A/N: Well hello there, glad to see you've stopped by. This is my first fanfiction, and I'm hoping you'll like it, and most importantly, review it! I really appreciate reviews, they're a great way to get feedback! Just a little info about this tale; it's set in the original territory of the Clans, many years after the deaths of Firestar etc., and told as though the other sagas didn't occur. This isn't because I don't like the rest, I just love the old territory! So anyway, enjoy!
"Surprise is the warrior's greatest weapon" - - - Into the Wild.
The roar of the waterfall overwhelmed the tiny squeaks that were coming from the direction of the shrubs. How could anyone hear them, over such a din? How could anyone attempt to even think that, while the water ran turbulent beside the banks, there was some carnivore very much trying to outdo it? No one, not normally, would spare a second thought to the waterfall, except to maybe admire its simplicity and its beauty. It was beautiful, the way it glistened in the sunlight, and sparkled against the rocks as it splashed down into the gorge, its turbulent waters churning and licking at the land that contained it. It had a wildness to it; artists and hikers alike enjoyed to look at, a testament of the small wonders of nature, this waterfall in the countryside.
But all that beauty was lost in the eyes of the tomcat, as he sat in the shrubs, thinking.
He thought quite a lot to be fair, about everything from the cache of food back at his camp, to whether kits were ready to become apprentices, to what cats he felt deserved to go to Gatherings. It was his job to think, and to act upon those thoughts in whatever way he deemed fit. He did his job well too, was always timely, always fair, and above all, always knew the right decision to be made with whatever situation came across his paws. He had prided himself on being unable to be surprised, and emitted an air of cool, calm collectiveness that his Clan liked. It seemed though, he reflected, his tail twitching in annoyance, razor sharp against the air, that his pride was taking a crushing blow, the likes of which he could never recover from.
He glanced down at the culprits of his blow, the source of the squeaking sound that seemed louder than the waterfall to the tom's ears. They flattened against his head, outer hairs poking into the sensitive inner area and making it as uncomfortable as possible for him. Two small kits, tiny in comparison to even his leg, rolled into each other until their fur melted together, and all that distinguished them were the two pink mouths that gaped open and squeaked their displeasure at being under a shrub, by the banks of a waterfall that successfully managed to get its spray on top of the plants. He couldn't be angry about that though, since it was able to maintain the shrub growth all year round.
How old were they anyway? He gave them a tentative prod with his paw, his claws safely sheathed. He was a tom after all, who had no mate, and also no kits. He was not exactly known for his dealing with the youngest members of the Clan until they were a little more…lively. It wasn't entirely his fault, he reasoned with himself. Queens generally didn't appreciate awkward paws in an already full nursery. A quick look in to congratulate was all they wanted. Why would he examine kits anyway? They were all the same, size wise at least, while nestled against their mother. He wished he had now.
What was he supposed to do with them? The loner had been in a bit of a rush when she left him with the two, only a brief while ago. The sun wasn't even fully up. He dropped his head, giving the two bundles a cautious sniff. They smelled of cat, as opposed to Clan. They would be recognised as frauds instantly. It made him a little sad to think of that. But it had been done before, even in his Clan, though that was a long time ago, in a different time. Now was a time of peace between the four. Did that go so far as to extend the welcome to two loner cats? He had to think a bit longer. He had time after all. He was known for his disappearances to 'think'. It wasn't questioned, at least out loud.
He could always just leave them out here. Their mother would never know.
His head shot up from the two kits in surprise at where his mind was wandering to. Leave them? Alone? Defenceless? The perfect prey for some hunting bird? 'Great StarClan,' how could he even remotely think such a thing! So much for being a fair and just cat. His tail twitched again, curling itself slightly around the kits. He couldn't let them die, and that would certainly be the case in the season they found themselves encased within. Kits were a gift, and he would never turn his nose up at a gift. So they had to stay, but how could he pass them off as his Clan members? More importantly, how could he pass them off tohis Clan members?
"Think, mousebrain!" he hissed to himself, the sound lost to the water, but the words clear in his mind. Had to remember, to try and remember the things he had been thought when he was a little older than the two bundles at his paws. He had to remember the elders' stories, and see if there was a way around his predicament.
It came to him suddenly, as if StarClan themselves had placed the idea in his head. Maybe they had performed that action. Maybe they saw something in the two kittens that the tom could never even dream of. It was a simple idea, but brilliant because of it. It had happened before, but so long ago that no one would remember, and no one would even think to question the queen on her litter, for fear of retribution in the form of harsh words and sharp claws. He purred to himself, pleased that his thinking had brought about such a foolproof idea, and bent down, picking the two kits up at once in his jaws. They squirmed a little as he adjusted his grip, then settled quietly into the swinging motion of his walk. She would take them. She loved him too much to deny his wishes. The spotted tom picked up his pace, angling for camp and avoiding the pathway he knew the morning patrol would take.
He thanked StarClan that he had put off Dreampaw's warrior ceremony till tonight. There were no prying eyes, eager to please, to see him enter the camp through the quieter entrance and head toward the nursery. A purr, so soft it could have been mistaken for the light breeze that tickled the chins' of cats, sounded. Whitetail lay in the nursery, her nest consisting of sticks lined with rabbit fur, and mouse fur and moss, her long tail that was tipped with black curling around two squirming bundles in a loving fashion, watching her kits suckle with a tender expression. She glanced up at the sound that had rumbled from the tom's throat.
"Runningstar, good mor…" the sound trailed off into nothing, her head tilting to view the kits hanging from his mouth with a puzzled expression. He watched her nose scrunch up as she sniffed, her eyes widening like saucers. Padding over to her carefully, his paws light to avoid waking the other queen that lay sleeping in the corner, he dropped the two in front of her, giving them a nose as they began to mew.
"They need milk," he stated, as though that explained everything, "And you have some to spare." He felt a shiver twitch through him, like a sense of déjà vu, like history was repeating itself only he wasn't to know that. It was the same feeling he experienced when he shared tongues with Starclan at Highstones. Runningstar looked at the queen's face, searching for an answer that he knew she would give him, but he hoped for the right reasons, and not just because he was her leader.
"You're right, I have plenty of milk to spare," she agreed, and he released the breath he had been holding. They were a little larger than her own, and the tom realised that they were in fact older than he had anticipated. Still, they would be treated just like her kits, and therefore would begin at their age. It was only fair, and, as he well knew, he was a fair cat, and a fair leader. "I won't forget this kindness Whitetail," he answered with a dip of his head, watching her paw the two larger kits closer to get at her milk, "But I would appreciate if a word wasn't mentioned. I don't want RiverClan to judge kits that did no wrong, just because of the parents' actions." His tail flicked from side to side, causing a stray feather to shake loose from the roof branches and fall gently to the ground.
"What actions?" Whitetail asked, her tail reaching out to include the two kits now, curling it protectively over their fur, "I have done nothing wrong Runningstar. These are my kits." The queen slowly brought her elegant white head down to rest beside her tail tip. The tom purred, relief apparent in his eyes, and he brought a paw up to poke the rump of the dirty white coloured kit.
"That's Cotton," he informed her, before prodding the striped and spotted sibling, "And that's Swift." He could at least tell her that much, and save her the bother of having to figure out names for the offspring that were not her own, without having to ask her mate. They were not his choice of course, but the loner's, spoken to him just before she left. Her streaking away into the distance had sent the curious thought that she was running from a saliva-drooling pack of dogs, but she had remembered to inform him of her kits' names before that specific analogy entered his head.
Whitetail half-nodded, her chin touching the ground in a bobbing fashion. "I've decided names for them Runningstar. Rosekit, Lionkit…Cottonkit and…Swiftkit." The leader nodded his approval, expressing a gratitude for the accepting queen. They were good names, strong names, and appropriate names. RiverClan needed these kits, and needed the she-cat for that reason. Whitetail had always been a good warrior and good Clan member. She would raise the kits right. Runningstar moved back the way he came, his tail continuing to twitch. He had mentored her well, if he did say so himself. Padding over to the river that flowed along the edge of the camp, deathly calm in comparison to its predecessor, the waterfall, he dipped his head down to lap some water. All that thinking had taken it out of him.
She will bring destruction, and she will bring fire. Your world will burn and only she can save you.
The tom almost yowled in surprise as he stared at the water, amber eyes that were not his own staring back at him, the dappled head rigid in the river. He knew her. He had met her when he shared tongues with StarClan. His fur bristled slightly as his hackles rose. Her words echoed in his head, the rumbling sound unmistakeable to his ears. "Leopardstar," he breathed softly, his green eyes fixed on her. He heaved out a breath as she remained silent in the water. "Destruction? Burning? You need to tell me more…" he continued, knowing it was fruitless, knowing he would only be told just enough.
Only she can save you.
Runningstar blinked, and the reflection was his own again. He swiped his paw through the water in annoyance, the droplets glinting in the sun. Who was she? Was it his own life that was in danger? Was this a personal thing, or something that could affect the whole Clan? His claws dug into the soft ground of the bank absentmindedly; he hadn't even realised they had unsheathed. Another sigh heaved from his jaws. That 'will' certainly sounded certain. Was he even able to stop this?
Only she can save you.
Only she…
'But how?'