Hello, everybody. This is the sequel to Cat's Wish Saga: The Fallen Warrior. If you are interested in reading this, I recommend checking out the first book in this series first if you haven't already, to help things make sense, although this story actually occurs at the same time as the previous one. At the time of the release of this chapter, The Fallen Warrior was nowhere near finished. However, I am interested in experimenting with the point of view of another warrior: Oceanpelt. Sounds familiar to those of you who are reading The Fallen Warrior, doesn't it?

Yes, you probably remember him as that cat who disappeared from RiverClan at the same time that Hazelfur joined...

Let's shed some light on his story, shall we?

Prologue

Swim, Oceanpelt, swim! The voices rang out in Oceanpelt's head, a chorus of pleads urging him to wet his sleek grey fur in the silky black lake water. Come on, don't be a coward! You're a RiverClan cat, aren't you? Then swim! He tentatively put his paw close to the lakewater, its soft lapping on the muddy bank soothing his ears in a gentle repetitive thrum. The gentle waves of crashing foam almost touched his paws, and he longed to reach out and become one with the foamy black waves. Surely it wouldn't he wrong to have a quick nip in the water, even though he was sitting his warrior vigil? Swim! High above, the clear night sky balanced in a perfect picture, reflected on the lake as the stars danced on the surface. The sounds of the night were silent, except for the soft cooing if a night cricket and the lapping of the water on shore. The soft night breeze ruffled his fur as the water lay still, invitingly cool. SWIM! Giving in to his desire, he plunged his paw in the silky cold liquid, full of delight at the perfect, icy chill he felt as it engulfed his paw. Under the pale light of the glowing moon, he slid forward in the mud, soaking his body as water lapped at his belly fur. Shivering, he plunged in, cold, black water swallowing him as he dived under like a fish, enjoying the cold, smooth touch of it.

The urging voices ebbed away to a whisper as he pushed on his hind legs, gliding under the waves as the moonlight turned his pelt sleek silver. Graceful like an otter, he surged up for a breath of fresh night air. Plunging back under, he enjoyed the silky touch of the waves on his skin. He wished that he could always be as happy as this, carefree, one with a lake of pooling water. Sliding through the depths, he was a fish as he swam gently through, rising once more to look at the night sky.

As the stars glittered on above, Oceanpelt waded through the lakewater to the moss-clung trunk of the fallen tree that led to the gathering island. The tree had supposedly been struck down by StarClan many moons ago, as a sign that the cruel WindClan warrior Mudclaw was not to become leader. Now, the trunk was a safe path for all the Clans to the sacred island in the lake, where gatherings were held every moon. Sliding out his paws from the water, the RiverClan warrior dug his claws into the smooth, wet bark and pulled himself up onto the log. Moss clung to the bark, wetting it and feeling slippery under his paws. Shaking his drenched pelt, he sat down comfortably and gazed at the stars. Blinking in the cold pale moonlight, he drank in the scents of the lake.

Brrr, it's cold, he shivered, shaking loose water droplets from his pelt. But at least it's very beautiful. Over in front of him, far away on the other banks of the lake above ThunderClan and ShadowClan territory, he saw a set of stormy rain clouds gather in the sky, heavy with precipitation and on the brink of spilling into a downpour. Grateful that the weather was good with him, Oceanpely admired the beautiful calm scenery.

If only all nights could be as satisfying as this... Suddenly, he saw out of the corner of his eye a flickering black figure on the island. Instantly the hair stood up on his neck as he pricked his ears, craning them to see of he could hear sound, but he could hear none. Tentatively raising his paw to a standingn position, he crept forward on the mossy trunk, sliding forward, a dark figure in the night.

Am I just imagining it? he wondered as his paws clung to the mossy wet bark. He squinted in the dark, struggling to catch a glimpse of the figure. Bit it was gone. Frog-brain! Oceanpelt told himself as he shook his thick-furred stormy grey head and sat back down.

Honestly, sometimes you just imagine things. If Coldpaw saw you now, he would call you a frog-face. Who would be on the Gathering island at this time of night, alone? There's nothing to worry about! Oceanpelt relaxed and laid back, his muscles loosening. He was a warrior now! His name was Oceanpelt now. It felt strange not to be called Oceanpaw anymore. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he was going to be the greatest warrior that RiverClan had ever seen!

Hopefully no-cat will find out about me leaving my vigil. Suddenly a dark thought entered his mind. What if ShadowClan or WindClan attack? There'll be nobody to warn the cats at camp! His whirls of thought hurriedly pacing, he stood up to skirt back to his vigil point. The wood under his pads felt as slippery as an eel, and he clung on tightly with his claws to keep himself from falling.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow on the island distracting him from his task. There is someone there! I wasn't imagining things! Perhaps that was what his vigil was for - to check for intruders. What if there was a fox? Some cats had scented one around recently. He had to check! Heartbeat quickening, he spun round on his paws and slid forward to have a closer look.

There it was again! A blurry, dark silhouette situated near the Great Oak, nestling by a beech copse. Should he warn the clan? There might be an intruder nearby...

No, he told himself firmly. I'm a warrior! I'll act like one! Pressing his pads closer to the moss-soaked trunk, he crept forward, his sleek wet pelt almost brushing the bark underpaw. He would get a closer look first. There was no pint in raising a false alarm.

Suddenly a magpie clucked loudly from an oak in the island, and Oceanpelt let out a squeak of surprise. Stumbling, his thoughts raced in surprise as he plummeted from his standing spot and plunged into the ice-cold lake with a loud *splash*. Freezing, churning lakewater infiltrated his eyes and nostrils, and he swam up to the surface to gulp a breathful of air. StarClan curse this! his thoughts yelped in panick. I hope nobody heard me fall in!

Bubbles rose as he glided smoothly under the waves to the island, his thick fur shedding water in perfect unison with his limbs' rhythmic, powerful strokes. Confident as an otter in the smooth lakewater, he surged forward and his thick, sodden head emerged from the softly lapping waves at the muddy bank of the island.

Smooth and silent as a shadow, he crept forward on the tip of his paws, with no water droplets dripping from his water-shedding RiverClan fur. Cold air whipped against his skin and the light moonhigh breeze ruffled his fur. He realised that the next time he would come to this island, it would be at a Gathering, at the night of the full moon truce. His first Gathering as a warrior! Pride stabbed his heart at this thought and his lungs swelled up happily.

Peeking around the knotted trunk of an old, granted oak, his heart racing and his paws deft and quick on the peaty, springy ground, he caught a glimpse of the strange, dark, figure - it was sitting on the HighBranch that the leaders always sat on at Gatherings! How disrespectful! thought Oceanpelt, pushing back a growl that was rising in his throat. And...it was muttering. It was muttering words. Straining his ears to catch the sound, he thought he heard "Death at moonlight, death at moonlight." What was this stranger talking about? Who could it be? It was the shape of a cat...a large cat. It didn't seem to be one that Oceanpelt recognised. What is that mangy furball doing up there? Grr, I'll show their flea-ridden pelt what RiverClan is made of!

Then a thought held him back. Are you supposed to fight on your warrior vigil? Shouldn't I go back to warn your clanmates?

But what if it was a false alarm? No, it wasn't worth it, Oceanpelt thought. I better go to investigate first, just to check.

Hunching down low and hoping his wet fur would hide his scent, he was about to put a paw forward when a voice coming from the stranger chilled his blood:

"I know you're there."

An icy cold touch gripped his spin. Forcing his fur to lie smooth, Oceanpelt stepped out from the shadows to have his first good look at the cat above him. What he saw shocked him. A huge, pink, hairless cat was propped up on the HighBranch, his flesh raw and fat, while his eyes, which were hairy and blind, bulged out of their sockets, milky white and peppered grey. His dirty, scarred muzzle was snapped open to display a set of humongous, rotting yellow teeth, and his while body bore the scars and wounds of a warrior, it was the deep, matted nick in one of his ears that scared Oceanpelt the most.

A low growl pushed from the cat's throat. "I know what you're thinking," he meowed, his sightless eyes rolling around and his grey, withered whiskers twitching in disappointment. "How can a cat be this ugly?"

Oceanpelt fought back his embarrassment. This cat knows what I'm thinking. Lowering his voice to a menacing threat, he growled, "Who are you, and what are you doing on Clan territories?"

The cat laughed feebly, throwing his head back to create a low, rumbling, snooty sound so ugly that Oceanpelt thought his ears would burst. "Ah, what a foolish young warrior," he purred, "just like those others. Always keen to seem menacing, create an unextisting war. They don't know a thing!" Then he rumbled into cackles again.

Oceanpelt felt his ears flattening in embarrassment and his paws twitching in frustration to being addressed like a kit. "Answer my question!" he hissed, the fur along his spine bristling dangerously.

"Why should I?" the tom answered, wrapping a half-battered, knotty, stumpy tail around his paws. For a moment his flesh faded a little, making him slightly see-through for half a moment. "You shouldn't have asked a question at all. You should be taking your warrior vigil. You just broke you vow of silence."

Oceanpelt arched his back and yowled in annoyance. "Warriors may break their vigil if their is an intruder!" In truth, he was mesmerised by how this old, crazy cat knew he was supposed to be at his warrior vigil. And how did he know about the vow of silence, which was a clan custom? He wasn't a clan cat!

The cat shrugged, his fat pink tongue lolling out if his mouth as he licked his matted muzzle. "You won't care who I am. It won't make a difference." Then he spring down with surprising deftness for such an old, broken cat as him, and stalled up to the paralysed Oceanpelt, who was trembling with curiosity and fear. "What matters," he meowed, "is who you are."

Oceanpelt had never been so surprised in his life. Who was this cat? What did he want? An exciting possibility wavered into his mind.

"Are you from StarClan?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. He had always dreamed of becoming the greatest leader of RiverClan to exist. Perhaps StarClan had descended from Silverpelt especially to confirm his destiny!

The cat seemed to read his mind. "Foolish, vain hawk-heart," he sighed wearily, shaking his head. "Why would StarClan come to visit a silly useless apprentice like you?"

This insult shook Oceanpelt, and his shoved his muzzle forward aggressively, his eyes burning and nostrils flaring. "I'm a warrior now!" he hissed. He was disliking this stranger more and more.

"That's what you think," the cat replied matter-of-factly. "You are about to be proven wrong. Do you expect StarClan to come to see you? No, I am not from StarClan, nor the Place of No Stars, although I once was a warrior in my heart." His voice trailed away wistfully as whipped his tail around his legs. "Call me Rock," he instructed.

Rock? What kind of name was that? "What were you mumbling about before I came?" Oceanpelt asked, as curiosity pricked his mind. "I thought I heard you say "Death at moonlight" or something..."

Rock's gaze hardened and his fur seemed to suddenly bristle alarmingly as his body went tense. "Don't ask questions," he snapped, his tone a little faltering, as if he was hiding something...

Oceanpelt reeled back, surprised as the harsh words slapped his pelt. "Okay, okay," he muttered, clearly annoyed. What's up with him? He clammed up suddenly as soon as I mentioned what he said...is he hiding something?

He shook his head to get rid of his thoughts. What he had heard Rock say before probably had no meaning. His breathing slowed to a shallow pitter patter against his ribcage. "Rock," he asked, "I've still got to ask, what are you doing here? I doubt whether you are here to cause harm, but my first loyalty is to my clan, and I am ready to defend it with my life!"

Rock paused for a second to taste the fresh night air. The distant thrum of the lake pooling on the banks of the clan territories seemed so far away now.

"I have come here briefly to tell you something," Rock answered, his blind gaze forlorn and unblinking. "You believe you have a great destiny ahead of you. Well, I can tell you that you are correct."

Oceanpelt's heartbeat quickened. Aha! So this stranger did come to tell me about my great future! This is it! I will make RiverClan proud!

"...But I have also come to warn you," Rock meowed, his tone the most unfathomable that Oceanpelt had ever heard in his life. "Often, the greatest paths have the most obstacles in their way, and the noblest leaders face the most struggle, strife and sorrow. Having a praised, famous name among the ranks of clan life signifies that the cat has led a hard, dangerous and painful life, as the best, most fulfilling and satisfying paths are never, ever easy..."

These words struck Oceanpelt like a thorn in his heart. Painful? Surely a great leader would never have to feel pain! Yet...truth reflected in the blind cat's words, and stabs of grief almost choked out his hopes.

"You are part of a fantastic, noble destiny," Rock echoed, stock-still, "but it is not the one that you expect. You are part of The Four. You and the others will unite to battle the evil that in currently invisible. You are the Clans' last hopes. Fulfil your destiny, young one."

...What? The Four? Who were The Four? Was he really one of them? What was he supposed to do? Who were the the other three? And what about the invisible evil?

"Be grateful that you have the privilege to see me. The other three know little of their mission, nor the fact that they are part of The Four. It is up to you to piece them together, bring them here under the light of the moon to meet in secret...

Bask in the glory of the sun atop the tree,

But when the tree is felled, where will you be? "

The prophecy seemed to echo around ominously, and the somber words rang in Oceanpelt's ears. "What?!" he yowled, reeling backwards, as suddenly, the outline of the lake around the island seemed to swell up and rise, in perfect unison, higher and higher, like a great wave waiting to swallow him up...

"Rock?" he called, his voice rising to a high note of panic. "Rock? What are you talking about? What's happening?!" He spun around, quick as a hare.

Rock had mysteriously vanished.

A flurry of panic coursed through his veins as he raised his head up high in fear. "ROCK!" he yowled as he raced through the thick trunks of trees, only to see the great, looming wave rising higher and higher. Skirting back alarmingly, he ran to the beech copse and whimpered like a kit. Moonlight glittered frostily through the canopy of trees, illuminating the clearing an eerie white with leaf dapples revolving on the ground. Moonlight... Moonlight... Death at moonlight...

Those words had to have some meaning.

"Rock! You lied!" hissed Oceanpelt as a dizzying blackness entered his mind, sending tremors through his thoughts as he staggered backwards. "...Rock!" Suddenly, the earth shook mightily, and a huge spray of water rained from the skies as the powerful wave came crashing down, engulfing the thrashing Oceanpelt into its murky depths...