Thistle sat there, throughly depressed. Heather was well and truly dead. Suddenly thistle glanced at the body, he had been too upset to look upon it before. Heather's body started shaking. Thistle gazed on silently. "What? I thought she was dead!" Suddenly a white mist enveloped the body. The mist shaped itself into a cat. "Heather!" Thistle mewed in joy. Heather looked on sadly. "I am dead." Thistle stared, "What?! But you are right in front of me!" "That is my body," Heather replied patiently. "I am now a ghost, but I will still watch over you Thistle." Thistle didn't know wether to laugh or cry. "Why did you have to die? You could have just run-" "Thistle. You are destined for great things." Thistle's eyes filled with tears as he saw his mother start to fade away, until she was so pale, Thistle could see the forest behind her. She whispered as light as the wind; "Search for the golden pawprint Thistle." "What do you mean?" thistle cried. Heather's eyes filled with love as she faded away. Thistle stood there, awestruck as he broke down in tears. He fell asleep into dreams of golden paws and prints.
