Prologue
Silverfeather crouched, her blue eyes narrowed. The moonlight bleached her silver tabby fur pure white, making it gleam like a Greenleaf sun. She felt the wind ruffle her fur, making her shudder. It was early Greenleaf, and her short, smooth fur was not much protection from a cold night. Her tail flicked from side to side as she crept along the forest floor. The squirrel continued to nibble on the hazelnuts, unaware of the silent hunter who was coming ever closer.
Bunching her muscles, Silverfeather prepared to spring. She was eager to make this kill, it would be her first catch of the night. She placed all of her weight on her haunches and she shifted quietly into position. She wasn't going to mess up this time.
A crow cawed, causing the squirrel to jump in alarm. Silverfeather sprang, her powerful hind legs sending her two foxlengths across the mossy ground, landing squarely onto the squirrel. With a quick swipe of her forepaw, the squirrel was dead. Silverfeather relaxed, then scraped dirt over the dead squirrel to protect it from predators, like that crow. Raising her pretty head, she sniffed the air for the scent of more prey. Vole!
Silverfeather turned and stalked lightly through the undergrowth in the direction of the smell, careful to avoid ferns and brambles that would brush or snag her fur or boulders that would scrape against her claws. As she neared the rodent, the wind changed, carrying her sent to the vole. The rodent bolted, vanishing into the ferns. Silverfeather tore after it, her claws out. She followed the vole through the forest, frustration burning through her veins. She followed it all the way to Twolegplace, where she lost sight of her prey.
"Fox dung." She muttered, glancing up and down the fence line. In front of her was a small hole in the fence that reeked of vole. She probably shouldn't have chased the creature so rashly, being a young warrior trying to prove herself. She sighed and sat down, sniffing for any scent of prey. She smelled Twoleg, cat, and the fresh scent of vole, but nothing else. She stood and was about to head deeper into the forest when she heard something hit the ground behind her. Whirling, Silverfeather gasped at what she saw.
An extremely handsome brown-and-white tom had apparently leaped over the fence, and dangling from his jaws was the vole. His amber eyes were shining with amusement at Silverfeather's face. To Silverfeather, he didn't look like a kittypet. He had a few scars on his ears, and no kittypet would bother to catch a vole. He placed the fresh-kill on the ground at his paws, his gaze never leaving Silverfeather. His long fur was well-groomed and sleek, with dark tabby stripes and a white muzzle, chest, belly, and paws. He stepped back from the vole.
"I believe this belongs to you." He meowed in a rich voice.
Silverfeather nodded, her eyes wide. "Yes, it does." She breathed.
"I'm Rye," The stranger said, sitting down and curling his tail around his paws. "Who are you?"
"I'm Silverfeather." She replied, snapping out of her shock. "And you're trespassing."
Rye cocked his head. "Are you one of those forest cats? Those ones all the kittypets gossip about?"
"Get out of here, kittypet!" growled Silverfeather. "And yes, I'm a forest cat."
"I'm not a kittypet. I'm what you'd call a… rogue, I guess. I'm not threatening you. I just caught this vole for you, you should be grateful." Rye replied, sounding mildly offended.
Silverfeather growled and snatched up the vole, flicking her tail in dismissal. "Leave now, rogue. And thank you." She called back, her voice muffled. She heard the cat leap over the fence and land on the other side. Silverfeather paused, glancing back at the fence. She would have to come back to thank the brown rogue… she shook her head and kept going to where she had buried the squirrel. She arrived on the site, digging up her prey. As she rolled it over as she tried to lift it, she saw its belly crawling with maggots. Silverfeather shrieked and dropped her vole in surprise. The squirrel reeked of crowfood.
I only just caught this! She thought, her eyes wide. How could it have rotted in so little time? She glanced up at the sky, where Silverpelt was shining brightly. Was it a sign from StarClan? Silverfeather glanced at the rotted-out squirrel, then picked up the vole and ran back to camp, her eyes wide. What did it mean?
***
"They're beautiful, Silverfeather." Murmured Torncloud. "What will you name them?"
Silverfeather looked down at her two kits suckling from her belly. One was a fluffy silver tabby like Silverfeather, the other was a tortoiseshell. Silverfeather purred at her two daughters, one of which let out a loud squeak before starting to suckle again.
"The tabby will be Ashkit," She replied, "For my mother, Ashstorm."
"That's a wonderful name," Torncloud meowed. "And the other?"
Silverfeather had already decided on the other's name. She had decided to honor Rye's freedom by naming her mottled daughter—"Wildkit," Silverfeather mewed. "Her name is Wildkit." Her daughter's tortoiseshell fur was also a good explanation, her fur was a wild mess of black, brown, ginger, and white on her belly and paws.
"Wildkit?" Exclaimed Hailkit, who had been watching from behind his mother, Echowhisper.
Silverfeather glared at the gray kit, who shrank back behind Echowhisper under Silverfeather's cold blue gaze.
"I think it's a wonderful name, Silverfeather." Meowed Echowhisper, glancing at her kit.
"Eat these," Torncloud ordered. Hailkit bounded over to the gray-and-white medicine cat and sniffed the herbs at his paws.
"What do these do?" Hailkit asked.
"Those are borage," Torncloud replied. "They'll help Silverfeather's milk supply."
"Can I help?" Hailkit mewed.
"No, Silverfeather will eat these herself." Torncloud replied, pushing the hairy leaves over to Silverfeather.
Bending her head, she ate the herbs quickly, forcing down the bitter leaves. Ashkit squeaked indignantly as Silverfeather shifted her position.
Echowhisper stood and stretched, her white-tipped tail kinked high into the air. "Hailkit, come with me to the medicine den. I have this stubborn thorn that just won't go away." Hailkit bounced with excitement and chased his tail.
Torncloud looked at Silverfeather, his eyes shining with worry. "Will you be alright by yourself?" He asked.
Silverfeather nodded. "I'll yowl if I need you." Echowhisper, Hailkit, and Torncloud left the nursery, leaving the silver tabby queen alone with her kits.
A handsome brown-and-white head poked in through the hidden weak spot in the nursery walls. Silverfeather had torn it when she had discovered she was pregnant, so Rye could visit her without her having to go to Twolegplace. Rye purred and shouldered his way into the den, padding over to Silverfeather. He nuzzled her, his eyes closed happily.
"They're beautiful, Silverfeather. What are their names?" Rye murmured.
"The silver tabby is Ashkit, and the tortoiseshell is Wildkit." Silverfeather replied, licking her mate's muzzle. "After you."
"Beautiful names for beautiful kits." Rye meowed, "Here, I caught you a few mice." He placed two mice at Silverfeather's paws. Silverfeather purred and bent to sink her teeth into the largest.
She drew back sharply, her nose wrinkled at the scent of crowfood. Rye blinked in surprise. "What?" He asked.
"It smells of crowfood!" Silverfeather gasped, flipping over the mouse with one paw. Maggots squirmed through the mouse's belly fur.
"But I just killed it!" Rye protested. "How can it be rotten?"
"It's a sign," Muttered Silverfeather, "From StarClan. I had it once before, when we first met…"
Rye blinked, obviously disbelieving her. "Silverfeather, there's probably another explanation," He meowed.
Silverfeather ignored him. "One of our kits will create something that will destroy her one day." She murmured, feeling her mouth moving but not aware of what she was saying.
"Silverfeather…"
Silverfeather looked to where Silverpelt was sparkling in the shadowy sky. "StarClan protect us from what is to come."