The Cat with strange Eyes

It was night. There was a full-moon, its pale light flooding the forest, slipping through the thick canopy, illuminating the tangled undergrowth. A pale, slender white she-cat padded through the ferns, ducking under branches, keeping close to the trees. Whiteflower's fur seemed to glow with an inner light, and although she was completely silent, her white pelt was a dead giveaway. And soon, she would just be dead.

Hawkstar, the ThunderClan leader, had told her—and everyone else in the Clan—repeatedly to stay in the camp during the night. There was a killer about, silent, deadly. None had lived to tell the tale once he had struck his fateful victim. And the cats almost always disappeared at night. After taking a walk, going to the dirtplace, nighttime hunting, they all vanished. Without a trace. That is, until the warriors found their Clanmates' bodies stowed away beneath a bush or whatnot.

But there was one clue… The last Gathering they had discussed this rapidly growing dilemma, Splashstar, RiverClan's leader, told of her apprentice, Riverpaw, and how she, during a night stroll along the river, had almost been killed by this shadowy figure. Apparently, the blue-gray apprentice had exceptionally sharp senses and strong instincts, and she had sensedsomeone in the tree-line, watching her. Riverpaw had spun around, just in time to see the cat. Splashstar had told of the strange eyes: one eye was piercing amber, pale and like daggers, in some way. The other was a unique blue-green. It seemed to flicker in color: blue, gray, green, gray, green, blue. And then Riverpaw had run. She had flung herself into the fast-flowing river, and escaped home, traumatized by the shock and the fact that she had been a whisker from death.

Despite all the warnings, the deaths, everything, Whiteflower felt compelled to leave the camp during the full-moon. There was no Gathering tonight. All the Clans feared the shadowy murderer, and Petalstar of WindClan had been first to back out, cutting off the full-moon tradition, fearing for the lives of her Clanmates. Splashstar had agreed next. Hawkstar, seeing the reason of staying in camp and not tromping through the undergrowth with the strange-eyed cat stalking them, gave in. And only then did ShadowClan's leader, Graystar, agree. After all, Whiteflower had said dryly, there was no point going to a Gathering when no other Clan was present.

Whiteflower threaded through the ferns, wishing the season was wet enough so there was some mud she could roll in, to cover her glowing white fur. She would have brought her sister, Ivyshine, with her, but the silver tabby was terrified of losing another Clanmate, and if Whiteflower had told her littermate what she was going to do, Ivyshine would've woken the entire camp just to make sure that her sister stayed where it was safe.

Ivyshine…. Ivyshine was not as easily terror-stricken as she was now before. At least, before the killing of Graycloud, their mother, this is. That, one of the non-night deaths, was during an early dawn patrol, when Graycloud had strayed away from her Clanmates, to get a drink at the stream. Whiteflower shook herself. That was why she wanted to get out tonight. Partly the reason, she reprimanded herself silently. No, it was the complete reason that she came out tonight just to visit Graycloud's grave. No, it was to visit Nightflight of ShadowClan. Whiteflower knew it was practically asking for a death sentence for both her and her mate, but they had been able to see each other for a moon. Her tail flicked back and forth, disturbing the surrounding foliage, before Whiteflower remembered to keep a low profile. Despite her outwards look of rash bravery and the hard shell around her heart, she was quaking like a leaf inside, out of fear.

What if the mysterious killer caught her? Terrifying. What if Nightflight was killed just because of her? That thought made her vision cloud over, her stomach to tighten, bile rising in her throat. Whiteflower walked quicker, her paws now making audible sounds on the grass. Faster, faster. She passed the Sky Oak, her fear now making her heart thump, for her to jump at every little noise. Oh, why had she thought of all those depressing memories? Whiteflower stumbled to a stop by a small "puddle" by the stream. She eagerly drank, trying to wash away the sour taste in her mouth. The leaves in the tree rustled above her head, and she jerked her head up, stumbling away from the maple. Nothing. It was just her nerves. But the rustling foliage seemed to sing, Back, back. Go back. Back, back. Go back.

But Whiteflower had gone too far to turn away. Nightflight was waiting for her. She could not disappoint him. The white warrior stood by the puddle, trying to calm her breathing, to no avail. Whiteflower knew she probably sounded like an elephant tromping through the forest. Her fear had taken over, making her run without trying to be silent, to breath, like she wasn't stalking through the forest, trying not to be heard. Nightflight. What if he's de—hurt? Whiteflower quickly corrected herself. "I can't think of that. It may come true," she breathed. "No."

The ThunderClan warrior glanced around, realized she was almost to the Lightning Birch. So far. It was a miracle. A bit of her old dry humor threaded through her mind, and then vanished just as quickly as a new thought slammed into her, literally making her stumble. That could mean the shadowy cat was stalking Nightflight! Whiteflower swallowed, then broke into a hasty run, flying through the trees, no longer worried about being silent. As she neared the ShadowClan border, the white she-cat slowed, heart hammering. And there he was! Sitting beside a pine tree, eyes closed, the moon behind him, so he was thrown in shadow. "N-nightflight!" Whiteflower burst out, her paws crunching across the grass.

Then she froze. The tom's eyes opened. They were not Nightflight's warm, brilliant green. Whiteflower wanted to yowl. One eye was piercing amber, pale and like daggers, in some way. The other was a unique blue-green. It seemed to flicker in color: blue, green, gray, green, gray blue. It was him.
Whiteflower turned to run, but the killer was upon her. His massive paws pinned her down with ease, and his claws glinted in the sunlight. "Mistake,' he breathed. "Mistake to run, to even leave your precious camp." The white she-cat struggled to say something, gasping for breath. "Remember me," the killer meowed, sneering cruelly. "When you meet Nightflight in your precious StarClan." And then there was a cold, pinching feeling. Whiteflower blinked, feeling sluggish. The ground beneath her was wet, the killer leaping away, vanishing into the undergrowth. Confused, the white warrior rolled over to look at the moon. The cat with strange eyes… And her eyes closed as a strange sleepiness over took her. Whiteflower no longer felt fear. She sighed, and gave way to the crowding blackness.