Don't Trust Anyone

Prologue

The crash and rumble of the livid storm seemed to shake the Mountain range to its core. The diagonal slant of the oncoming rain threatened to breach the Clan's security, and even Swiftstream, who had been issued with guarding the entrance, had been sent back into the clearing by MountainClan's leader —Jaggedstar.

The MountainClan cats fluffed their fur, anguish painting their narrowed eyes. A calico apprentice prodded the scrawny pieces of prey left in the pile, turning to her mentor with concern.

"When will the storm pass, Narrowwhisker?" the she-cat meowed, flattening her ears as something hard began to attack the mountain face. The noise echoed around their clearing, disrupting those who dared try and sleep through the storm. It had been going on for roughly four days, but tonight it was definitely at its worst.

The tabby named Narrowwhisker flicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "It will pass when its ready to, and not a moment before. A storm does just as it pleases, like how a cat should be."

Swiftstream laughed through his nose, shaking his black and white fur morosely. "Your way of thinking is too simple. I'd much rather you tell your apprentice useful things, like mechanisms and theories."

"Go on then," Narrowwhisker prompted, lazily drawing back to lie supine on the cave's surface.

"Hmph. Judging by the sudden intensity of the rain," the warrior began, facing Skypaw who listened with curiosity. "The storm is most probably at its worst and will die down early in the morning." Swiftstream concluded.

The intermittent noise outside suddenly became much louder.

"It's hailing harder than before," Narrowwhisker drawled. "StarClan doesn't approve of your answer."

"Nonsense. My answer was perfectly fine. The storm will still pass early morning. One glance at the colour of the clouds will tell you that."

Narrowwhisker rolled his eyes. "One glance at the colour of the clouds will tell me you're insane."

"You two never give it a rest, do you?" Cavernheart meowed, her tone edged with warning. The deputy was never one to fool around. She focused her sharp, yellow eyes on the two, silencing them easily. "Prey has been scarce since the storm began —naturally cats are on edge, and Stonefall has been in contractions for more than half the hour; it'd be best if you both kept quiet."

"Sorry," Swiftstream quickly mumbled, dipping his head. Narrowwhisker, however, merely returned her gaze, refusing to apologise for anything at all. After all, in his mind he was always right.

Skypaw piped up awkwardly, softening the tension the storm had created. "Do you think Stonefall's kitting is going okay?"

Her question was left unanswered when the sky suddenly rattled, sending hail as large as an apprentice's paws down against the earth. The dull thud eventually grew louder until Skypaw had to protect her ears with her paws. It's so loud! her brain shrieked.

Through the loud cacophony of noise, it was a miracle that someone had managed to hear the sound of a newborn's mewling.

"The first kit," the nearby Cragfoot noted. Cavernheart quickly rose to her paws. Skypaw nervously followed the deputy to the nursery, wondering if she'd be told off for following, but Cavernheart didn't seem to mind.

Skypaw's calico fur was almost ripped from her when a burst of wind cut through the entrance. One of the mice on the prey pile nearly went flying, but Narrowwhisker was quick to catch it with his paw. The cats in the clearing began to file back into their dens, fearing the storm and its temper.