Split: Book Two: Fleeting Storms

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

Crowsight yawned, narrowing his eyes against the shadows that immediately swept into his vision as he woke up. The nest was scratchy and uncomfortable against his pelt, and the bitter smells of herbs assaulted his nose. He stretched his paws out in front of him and flexed his claws, the fur along his spine prickling as he released the tension from his muscles. He shifted to sit upright with another massive yawn.

"Up late?" asked Streamspeckle with a smile, curling her tail around her paws and glancing over at Crowsight. Her pale fur was dappled with white snow, and her ghostly-white face was bright, deep golden eyes sparkling.

Crowsight shrugged, biting back another yawn. "You could say that."

He hadn't been able to sleep the previous night, his argument with his siblings ringing through his ears and making it impossible to rest. He couldn't stop thinking about what Windclaw had said. Who's to say she's not lying? That Brightstar is the one who's right in all this? He felt shivers running through his pelt, and Crowsight blinked, shaking his head. No. He was too tired to think about that right now.

In the corner of the den, Featherclaw was organizing herbs quietly, her dark eyes focused on the herbs. "Darkfire was awake for a few minutes early this morning," she hummed off-handedly, pushing a few stalks of marigold into another pile.

"Featherclaw," sighed Streamspeckle. "That was supposed to be big news. A surprise, if you will." Featherclaw shrugged her shoulders, not looking over.

Crowsight's eyes widened. "Really?" he exclaimed, delight rushing through him. He leaped to his paws. "Does that mean she'll be okay?"

"We hope so," said Streamspeckle. "She was a bit groggy. She asked if you were okay, first. She wanted to talk to you, but before we could get you up, she had gone under again."

Crowsight's eyes traveled to Darkfire's sleeping figure. "I should tend her wounds," he said, but Streamspeckle shook her head.

"Already done," she said, and Crowsight noticed the thick green polituces rubbed gently into the scratches flanking her pelt. "We're not sure when she'll wake up again, but for now she's steady." Streamspeckle smiled softly at Crowsight. "I think she'll make it, Crowsight. I really do."

Crowsight smiled back, taking a deep breath. "Me too."

Suddenly, there was a slight rustling from Darkfire's nest. Crowsight's head whipped around just in time to see the flicker of her golden eyes as they slowly began to open. He felt light spreading through his chest, and his face lit up as he bounded over to sit next to her.

Darkfire raised her head with a wince, her round eyes still slits, but she managed to turn her gaze up at Crowsight.

"Crowsight," she gasped, in a strained, rough voice. "Oh, StarClan."

It was as if the stars had all burst to life inside of Crowsight, and were singing and dancing around, sending rushes of joy surging through him. His face lit up so brightly that it looked like the moon itself.

"Darkfire!" exclaimed Crowsight, his voice overflowing with joy, and he rubbed his cheek along her's as gently as he could. "Are you okay? How do your wounds feel?"

"That's not important." Her eyes flashed with worry, and a small crease appeared on her forehead. "I was in StarClan. They gave me a prophecy."

Crowsight's blood turned to ice. The happy feeling slowly fell away, until it seemed to have been swallowed by the shadows of the medicine den. "A prophecy? Like, they spoke to you and told you it?"

Darkfire nodded gravely, her expression twisted with pain. She attempted to push herself up but collapsed back onto the nest with a small hiss.

"Darkfire! Careful!" Crowsight nudged her back onto her stomach. She growled softly, shaking her head. Her fur began to bristle with frustration.