Warriors: High Tides

Chapter 8

Bramblefoot stepped onto the Island lightly, Thistlepaw shortly behind her, grinning stupidly. Bramblefoot wanted to be happy with her new apprentice, but something nagged at the back of her head: what if this was the wrong choice? Her tail flicked nervously at the idea. ThunderClan will survive without me, she reminded herself. I'm sure they've gone through worse.

She sat down as Batstar launched himself onto the Great Oak, flicking his tail. He looked mighty and powerful, but he was only skin and bones below the thick fur. She sighed:they were hardly any better.

She twitched her ear as another cat entered the clearing. A pale ruddy red-brown tomcat walked in, thin body accentuated by equal hunger. In his mouth dangled a two-moon-old kit, chirping innocently. She could see he was hungry, too.

"Taking a kit on this journey?" Bramblefoot asked, more curious than demeaning.

"He's all I have left." The stranger meowed. "I want to give him a better life. He'll starve in WindClan."

The Medicine Cat nodded understandingly. "What's your name?"

"Gorsewhisker." The tom meowed. "And this is Harekit. Say hello, son."

The sweetfaced brown kitten wiggled his whiskers. "Hallo!"

She chuckled softly, looking around. "Wheres's Ryestar?"

Gorsewhisker flinched. "He... Was unwell. We decided to come alone." He said, voice monotone, betraying no emotions.

"I see." She meowed, nodding.

She waited for a while and spent the time unwasted; she showed Thistlepaw how to pull burrs out of knotted fur, and how to pull moss off of a tree without tearing it to shreds on the way.

The next representative showed up; a white she-cat, with silver ears and a fluffy silver tail. Her bright green eyes roved healthily. Bramblefoot noted, with envy, how plump the she-cat was; her fur was glossy and warm-looking, and her eyes were keen. Even her pawsteps were gentle and firm; she stalked happily up to the growing ring of destined cats. "Good afternoon," She purred.

Gorsewhisker lashed his tail at her. "Who are you?" He asked, clearly annoyed.

"Ivystream." She purred softly. "And yours?"

They introduced themselves in turn as the RiverClan leader, Cinderstar, made her way up the Great Oak. She vaulted herself up with ease, strong claws piercing the bark heartily. Bramblefoot saw Batstar study the other leader suspiciously.

Why are they so healthy when all the other Clans starve? She thought bitterly. Is StarClan biased?

Batstar and Cinderstar started talking casually on the Great Oak, and the medicine cat swooned with delight. The Clan Leaders hadn't been on good terms since the Drought started so many moons ago. They had always been fighting, accusing, even battling - which had ended many Gatherings.

Finally the final cat came in - a black tomcat with Maplestar, the ShadowClan leader, and a plump golden queen.

"Hello." The black tom meowed, looking at Gorsewhisker. The two toms shared a nod of mutual understanding.

We'll have a lot of kits on our paws, Bramblefoot thought huffily. But it's all for the best. Hopefully we'll have a camp before then.

Finally Bramblefoot felt a tug. It was instinctual, and she turned a little, perking up. In one of the trees, she saw a cat hanging in the branches, paws dangling off their chosen limb.

"Who are you?" She meowed, tilting her head. She didn't recognize this stranger. He was a heavyset tom, with bright ginger fur and green eyes, with wide white paws and a long curled tail.

Other cats seemed to appear from seemingly nowhere. A silver tom slipped out of the water, his fur buoyant. A black she-cat slid from the shadows, limber legs barely making a sound. And a small sand-colored tabby female, tail high and curved over her back.

And two cats on the topmost limbs of the Great Oak. One of them was a gray tom with white splashed on one side of his face and on his paws, visibly light. And the other was an ancient she-cat, glowing white pelt dingy with age, blue eyes wide.

All six of them turned to the sky, and the cats on the Island turned and followed their gazes: In the sky, slashing across like a clawmark, was a straight line of a cloud: It strained between two mountains in the distance, like the maws of a bird coming up to snap the insects that were stars out of the sky.

"We need to go between those mountains." Bramblefoot announced. "These cats are StarClanners!"

Everyone gasped and looked at the cats with new reverence. They all stood up proudly, smiling down at the living cats.

"ThunderClan," The ginger tom called out, "Headstrong and brave..."

"ShadowClan," The black she-cat crowed, "Secretive survivors..."

"RiverClan," The silver tom purred, "Swift and gentle..."

"WindClan," the wiry she-cat yowled, "Light and strong..."

The gray tom and the ancient she-cat looked at each other and smiled. "The future," The tom meowed, and faded away in the wind.

The ancient female scrunched her small body. "StarClan!" She cried in a surprisingly strong voice, ringing across the entire Valley in a great wave.

Then she dissapeared, and there was earsplitting silence. Even the bugs didn't buzz, the birds didnt chirp, the mice didn't chitter. Everyone stared at the two great peaks in the sunset.

And then they woke.