A/N: Ello, Gemskies, Spirit of the Brook here! Happy holidays! I haven't done a one-shot in a while and I got some inspiration from a song, so.. Here we go!

Bramblepaw tramped confidently through the ThunderClan woods, maneuvering his body quickly and easily through the long-familiarized territory. He smiled. He was on his warrior assessment and soon he was to become a warrior like his beloved mentor, Firestar and his mate, Sandstorm.

He couldn't believe that so soon, he was to join their warrior ranks. Prey and weather had been easy going and pleasant, after all for the last few seasons; Mousefur called it so quiet it was unnerving but Bramblepaw was happy to have the peace. When he had been a mere kit, ThunderClan, named after the great and powerful LionClan at the time, had been fighting against the evil forces of TigerClan, led by Tigerstar, Bramblepaw's own….father.

The dark brown tabby shuddered to think that he even resembled the vicious, blood-thirsty tom that had sought the downfall and total domination of the forest territories. He knew that Firestar had had haunting visions in his deputyship about Bramblepaw rising up against ThunderClan and joining his father, but Goldenflower comforted him and said it was just natural for Firestar to feel this way because the evil leader that had attempted to kill the ginger tom himself bore such striking resemblances to him.

It made Bramblepaw feel guilty and almost unpleasant that he had caused his mentor that much pain, but he quickly shrugged off his worries and focused again on his trek toward camp. But when he got to the camp, his worries, his nervousness, and his speculations about the last peaceful seasons came to a harsh stop. There before him was the camp, filled with the normal cats, but they seemed wraith-like, faded, and mournful.

There were shadows of Ferncloud's kits, some much bigger playing around the High Rock and he realized with a pain that on their pelts were multiple marks of death. Shrewkit's head, now about the size of a seven-moon old apprentice's was tilted at a very odd angle, which Bramblepaw knew meant his neck had been broken. Larchkit, still young had the shrunken, rib-showing look of someone that had starved to death; it held so much evidence, right down to the last detail that the tom noticed dark bags under her eyes. Hollykit, also looking as young as ever looked weak and frail, as any other kit but she was shuddering violently with the signs of weakness and her sunken in stomach proved that she had died from malnourishment. Spiderkit, much bigger, looking about senior warrior size with rippling muscles bulging at his broad shoulders, however looked like he had died from nobler causes; three claw marks were etched through his majestic, bloody face but he had the look in his eyes all young cats would wish to have when they died, proud and fierce.

This went on with the rest of the cats in camp, all looking bedraggled and like they had died at some time. He noticed an unfamiliar smoky black tom speaking with one of his Clanmates and his stomach lurched when the tom lifted his head and stared straight at him, revealing hollow sockets where his eyes should have been. Then he saw his leader and mentor, Firestar and his heart seemed to stop. The once mighty ginger tom now had his head low to the ground, almost touching his nose to the High Rock as it grazed the stone; his tail dragged and his pelt was spotted with soot. The most sickening thing about it all was that Bramblepaw could see now why he was limping; his spine stuck out of his long, thin back at a diagonal angle, rupturing his flesh and blackened fur.

It was terrible, seeing his Clanmates all bloodied, burnt, or torn apart. But at the same time, at the back of his sub consciousness, a voice was whispering in his ear, Don't be foolish, Bramblepaw. This isn't real. This is all just a dream. After all, you're just a warrior apprentice, aren't you? No one special, are you? But Bramblepaw knew. This wasn't just some weird dream he was having; this was real, terribly and formidably real. Somehow, he knew that Firestar was not really like this in the present but he would eventually be found one day like that, burnt with scratches and cuts all over his body, spine sticking out of his back. He hated to think it, but he was afraid the speculations were undoubtedly true.

But then a thought occurred to him. If I'm seeing something, does this mean I'm secretly a seer of…..fate? It seemed kind of funny to think that. Son of Tigerstar suddenly seeing grisly endings for all his Clanmates? And the thing was nobody was likely to believe it. Even Firestar would probably dismiss it as a funny piece of freshkill he had eaten. Only he would possibly know that he could see their fates. Could this be power? Possibly. But he didn't want to use it like that; it just seemed wrong and seemed to jeer at Firestar's acceptance of him as a normal warrior, not some power-crazy murderer's son who inherited his ambitions.

Maybe, he could warn them. But then, nobody would believe him, would they? "Or maybe, you won't use your powers at all, a harsh and cracking raspy voice echoed across the silent clearing. Bramblepaw spun around to see the smoky black tom only tail-lengths away. He nearly jumped out of his skin to be so close to those haunting, empty sockets. Apparently, the tom sensed his discomfort and took a few steps backward. "Don't think I can't smell your fear, son of the tiger," the cat spoke again. "I've seen a lot worse than you have with my power."

Bramblepaw's heart jumped at the thought that somebody could have a power like his. "What is your power?" he asked in a quavering, but curious voice. The tom stared grimly at him. It seemed like a thousand moons had passed before finally, he cleared his throat and told him his power. "You see, my power was not really unlike yours, seeing as we both see the cats that lead up to their fates, or as I would rather flat out say, deaths but I don't see them after their deaths. I see the scenes leading up to their deaths….Ah, you are Bramblestar, right?"

Bramblepaw was confused. "No, I'm Bramblepaw," he replied. "There couldn't be another Bramblestar in this camp?" The tom looked confused, his eyebrows pushing down over his sockets which made for a ghastly sight. "Oh, well, I guess Bramblestar might be your last name because there was this old sandy ginger she-cat with green eyes, she had flecks of grey on her muzzle and frayed whiskers and everything. She was chasing after you, yelling your name. And you have flecks of grey on your muzzle, too though not quite as many as the she-cat's. She screamed to not follow the same fate as Firestar and tried to stop you at this big nook near a river but then you jumped into the rushing river flow and you were gone. And so was your death scene." Bramblepaw was beyond confused. If that old she-cat that had perfectly fit the description of Sandstorm had called him Bramblestar, did that mean he was going to be leader when he died? Oh, boy, did he wish to be older then.

"And since it seems you cannot see your actual self as Bramblestar, I assume you see me at my present death form," he prompted. Bramblepaw nodded, lost in his own fantasy of his leadership. "What do I look like now?" the tom suddenly burst out in kit-like enthusiasm. "Um, well, you have hollow sockets for eyes and you look about as thin and measly as a mouse about to croak. You're showing a few very dusty ribs and your insides have shriveled up. Oh, and you have a smoky black pelt but it's been almost completely covered up with rock dust and…cave…..debris." The ancient-looking, hollowed-out tom leapt up in excitement.

"I've always wondered what the anatomy of a cat that has fallen thousands of sky-lengths from a narrow cliff face looks like after several seasons of being dead," he said, almost excitedly to Bramblepaw's disgust. "Well, goodbye now! I have important research to do!" The tom gave a childish giggle which sounded like rocks scraping together at high speed and was about to head off into the woods when Bramblepaw stopped him. "Wait, you haven't told me your name," he called out. "Oh, it's Smokepaw, apprentice of ShadowClan, traveler with all four Clans."

With that, Bramblepaw fell out of his vision with a crash, feeling dazed and confused. Had he really imagined this all? But then he knew. No. Once again, this was not the place he knew and loved. It was bare and desolate, a flat plain filled with nothing but dust, the dust of a lost home. And then this same flat plain filled up with water, choking water, surging water that lifted Bramblepaw off his paws and carried him through the unmarked land. Then he saw Sandstorm rushing past him, her green eyes wide with terror. "Firestar, help!" she was spluttering and Bramblepaw knew he had to save her. But he was unable to move. With horror, he realized he had not been moving; he had simply been rooted to the same spot, thinking he was watching the unchanging landscape go by.

He watched in complete, helpless grief and guilt as Sandstorm was swept off by the current and then the water slowed down to a tiny creek and he saw a gingery, soaked body flop onto the shore. His heart jumped with hope when he saw the slightest twitching of Sandstorm's paw but then the twitching fell still. His heart was still running a hundred beats per second when Firestar appeared, also soaked and bedraggled, his fur twisted and ruined beyond compare. With horror, he realized that he looked about the same age as the Firestar that he had seen in the camp in which he saw the fates of each and every Clanmate. Would this be how the great and powerful leader died, stooped over the body of his mate, grieving? Bramblepaw did not know, for the scene changed.

He was in what looked like tall, frightening mountains. He had been close to WindClan's border once and had seen great, big stony peaks like this far off in the distance. Were these the same mountains? "Young cat, not mountains same," a peaceful grunt sounded close to him. He jumped and began to cower in terror as he saw a great, looming badger beside him. The badger looked at him with its small, berry bright eyes and cocked its head to one side curiously. "Know, cat, never get visitors many these parts around," she spoke haltingly, her voice heavily overladen with what must've been the equivalent of a mountain accent. She obviously didn't know cat language very well.

"Sun-drown-place too frightening for some, they say," the badger huffed and snorted, looking off to the very tips of the snowy peaks where they glittered under the cold, but dazzling sun. "Have to soon toughen up them," she grunted and then strangely enough, the black-and-white beast disappeared under the sunlight before Bramblepaw's eyes. He blinked, hoping it was some trick of the light, but there was really nothing there. He shrugged. "If I'm going to stay here, I might as well sit in a warmed spot," he said, stepping forward and placing a paw into the small dip that the badger had made in her sitting spot.

But as soon as he had made himself comfortable, frightening mind images overtook his vision. Huge birds diving everywhere, diving onto Clan cats and The mangled jet-black face of a badger with blood-red eyes reared up and was about to crush him with its huge, rounded paws when the camp appeared before his eyes. This time, there was nothing different. It was plain and simple, as it had once been. Cats wandered around camp and Ferncloud's kits, definitely not shadows now were playing around near the nursery. "Stop it, Hollykit!" Shrewkit laughed as the dark brown she-cat pummeled him into the leaves. "Never!" the she-kit squealed and resumed to flip his flailing body into more leaves.

He let out a sigh of relief. He was home. No more visions were appearing anymore and that was a good sign. "Hey, Bramblepaw, what's up?" the voice of Leafkit, one of the oldest kits in the nursery asked. He jumped then turned around calmly to face the light brown tabby, ridding his face of distress. "Oh, I'm good," he replied. "What are you doing out of camp?"

The she-kit shrugged. "I don't know, just thought I'd have a look around the barrier and the ravine," she said and then walked back into camp, seemingly fading into non-existence as she passed through the gorse tunnel. Bramblepaw's grin disappeared. Is this another vision? He wondered, internally groaning. "I don't think so, but I think I'd like to check," Smokepaw's voice seemed to come from another dimension, very far away from him now. He let out a huff of disappointment, ready to see the same thing all over again.