Warrior Cats; Night Secrets #4

Chapter 19

Darkness pushed down on the border, a heavy weight. The larch trees swayed peacefully, leaves rustling in the wing, branches scraping the black sky. Hot air lingered, rolling down from the moors and colliding with the cool breeze from the lake. The scents of RainClan, fresh, clear, mingled with the sweet heather and earthy gorse flowers of BreezeClan.

Marshhare felt the branches tangle in his fur. He stayed still, jaws parted to taste the air.

"Sheercliff?" The branches trembled, a twig snapped with a sharp crack that echoed thoughout the valley. Then, just there in the shadows, bright eyes gleamed. A red face, scarred by battle, appeared from the border, and Sheercliff stalked out of the shadows.

He'd seen her earlier while gathering watermint, and urged her to meet again; the battle with SleetClan was a pressing worry, and Mottletail had been acting weird ever since. Well, weirder than usual.

"Stupid branches," she grumbled, trampling the leaves and shaking her pelt, thick with moss and twigs, out. Marshhare crouched low, tucking his paws towards himself, curling his tail around and sighed.

"How'd the battle go?" He asked.
"Don't you know?" She flicked an ear. There was a raw scratch on her face. "You got sent packing after Snakestar killed Pinespots,"

Marshhare shook his head. This whole battle could of been avoided!
"I told Harestar not to send a patrol down,"
"And if BreezeClan didn't show up, RainClan wouldn't of had to either," Sheercliff's tone was accussing, sharp. Her tail twitched, once, twice, and fell still.

Marshhare felt very small. His mind whirled with the prophecy.
"Is this what it meant?" He mewed, keeping his voice low, barely a whisper, "the end of StarClan? SleetClan's turned their back on StarClan, and Snakestar's made that very clear."

"Hawktail thinks Snakestar's right," Sheercliff cut in. Marshhare agreed, he could picture the RainClan deputy heading down the same path as SleetClan. "I think she's right too,"

"How many agree with her?" Something twisted in Marshhare. Worry? No, this was right. The Clans would be better off without the influence of StarClan. We would, right?

"I dunno," Sheercliff tipped her head to think, narrowing her eyes to stare off into the distant darkness, "probably a few who came to help Snakestar. Should I ask?"
"I don't- I'm not sure,"
Sheercliff snorted,
"Well we have to do something," and then paused, blinking dust out her eyes, "do you know what RainClan's punishment, or whatever, is gonna be?"

"Do you remember what Moon said?" He asked. Her eyes clouded, glazed with a far off look, and she fell silent. Silence, only the wind in the larches and birches above. Marshhare could hear his heart pounding.

"He said that RainClan must never give up," she murmured softly, slowly, with an ache in her mew, "and then I was given a vision of me, walking with my father, Birchstripe," Birchstripe? Oh, him. Marshhare briefly visualised the stocky white and brown tom, his thick pelt lashed with stripes.

"Have you spoken to him?" Could he be the key to solving the prophecy? Marshhare frowned, like a warrior had any place in StarCla- Moon's prophecies.
Sheercliff let out a rasping, choking, sound; a broken purr.
"He's dead,"
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Marshhare froze. He was definitely not the answer.

Sheercliff shook her head, closed her dull green eyes for a heartbeat and sighed. She looked up suddenly, ears pricked, the light and spirit returning to her eyes.
"Don't be," she muttered, "he was never much of a father," and settled into a comfier position, paws tucked under her chest, hind legs relaxed.

Marshhare felt his heart twist.
"I didn't know my father," Sheercliff raised her head, interest sparking in her eyes.
"Mottletail told me it was Sunfur," she mewed.
"Apparently not," Marshhare admitted. He could feel annoyance sweeping over him, his whiskers twitched and he fought the urge to sink his claws into the soft ground. "Could be a rogue for all I know," why wouldn't Featherflight tell him? What was the big secret?