A cold breeze rattled through the gorge,a harsh reminder of Leaf-bare. A group of cats huddled in the bottom,encircling a thin,bedraggled body. A single ginger tom lay right beside her,his muzzle buried in her fur. Her kits Firepaw,Stormpaw, and Harrypaw were pressed against Billystoram's side. One dark, broad shouldered tom sat several tail-lengths away,his amber eyes dull with grief. He knew what this meant. He must fulfill StarClan's wish.
But I don't want to lead a clan where I watch my followers dies,helpless,he thought bitterly. His thoughts strayed to Cherrytail. A pang of sadness swept him as he remembered her frail body heaving to give birth, shuddering to a stop before even naming her one kit. He glanced over at Cherrykit,safely nestled at the belly of Clovertail. He fought to remain calm as he rasped,
"I must speak to StarClan to see if they wish for me to lead." He could sense the immediate change of mood,a beacon of hope shining from his words. So this is what it feels like to lead,he thought, surprised at how powerful a few words could be. He forced his stiff joints to stand up, padded over to breath in Leafstar's scent last time, and loped away.
Sharpclaw tried to remain numb, but already a surge of emotions crashed over him. Grief, anger,anxiety and confusion hit him like a blow and he stumbled outside the mouth of the whispering cave. Could he really be the leader SkyClan deserved? Was he meant to be leader? How would he lead a dying Clan? He backed away a few steps, wondering if he should ever enter. Suddenly, a warm scent breezed by him, stopping at the mouth of the cave.
"Cherrytail?"he asked hoarsely. He received no reply, just a quick stroke of a tail along his pelt and another hint of Cherrytail's scent. Sharpclaw steeled his nerves, took a deep breath, and padded forward. Whatever his destiny was, whatever the Clan's destiny was, he must face it.