Before I start my story, I would like to explain a little bit about WildClan. In real life, I live on a farm. We have our own little cat farm (currently, we have over 10 cats!). Unfortunately, almost all the kittens that are born mysteriously disappear, as well as some of the very young cats. This fanfic is about what happens to those cats. Another thing, Whitestar is real, a tom of over 18 years old. All of the other characters in this fanfic except SkyClan are real as well, just some with different names (Skyleaf is real, though!).
This story is for all the cats who have lived on my farm.
"Cats of the Clan!" The familiar, booming yowl of Whitestar rang out clearly throughout the snowy clearing, causing a pair of scuffling kits nearby to leap apart, squeaking fearfully. "May all of you old enough to catch your own prey gather here beneath the Highrock!"
Slowly, cats of all different colours of pelts began to file in from between the trees, unusually small bodies winding in and out. Whitestar waited patiently upon the Highrock, ears pricked attentively. He repeated the summons until almost all of WildClan could be seen gathered beneath the smooth tablet of stone his powerful tabby frame stood upon.
Whitestar scanned the clearing, lean cats waiting in silence. "Where is Palerose?"
An undersized slate-black cat with a white star on his chest stepped forwards. "With her kits, back at the Twoleghouse."
"Thank you, Nightsky. Are they well?"
"Last I heard, your kits were getting strong on the milk the she-Twoleg is bringing them," the second deputy replied cheerfully.
A kit's shrill mew interrupted their conversation, "When am I going to see them? I want to see the Twoleghouse!"
"Graykit, be quiet!" The black queen, Blackspirit, sitting beside her only kit, scolded him.
"All in good time. You must know how to fight and hunt. The warrior code comes first," Whitestar reminded the young kit.
"Anyways, I have summoned you here to discuss the matter of Stormyheart. But-" he added as the Clan broke out in whispers and hisses, "I would like to discuss it in private with the experienced warriors in the Deerhollow."
All of the cats who had visited the Twoleghouse filed out of the clearing, some taking different routes.
Two in particular took a worn deer-path separate from the rest of the Clan. One had a soft, beautiful, white, black and tan calico pelt and stunning green eyes. The other, a tom, was a glossy black with two forepaws, the tip of his tail, and a miniature marking on his face which were snow-white. He had a deeper green shade of eye color.
"Don't tell me that furball's been stirring up trouble again!" Nutflower hissed, swiping angrily at a leaf fluttering by.
"Nutflower, you know as well as I do that Stormyheart will try to cause trouble for Whitestar," Ravenwing, the tom, soothed her.
"Yes, but why must he act so violently?" the pretty tortoiseshell stumbled over a fallen tree branch and lurched forwards.
Ravenwing caught her by her scruff and set her gently back on her feet, looking her in her green eyes. "Because it's his nature. Nutflower, don't brood about the past. It's true, Stormyheart killed your mother, and you have every reason to hate him. But if he shows up, attacking isn't necessarily the best way to confront him."
Nutflower's eyes softened, but she looked away. "Sometimes you're too much of a peacekeeper."
Ravenwing let out a soft hiss and snapped, "I can fight as well as any warrior."
Both of their heads snapped around as a nearby bush rustled threateningly.
"Who's there?" Ravenwing demanded.
Nutflower caught the familiar scent of a young warrior who had just recently completed the warrior ceremony by visiting the Twoleghouse.
She brushed past her mate and called, "Gingerfur, come out."
A ginger and white-splotched she-cat emerged nervously from the bush. "I'm sorry. I didn't know-" she started, eyes cast downwards.
"That's all right, Gingerfur," Ravenwing interrupted her. "We were just about to leave," he glared at Nutflower, who glared in return.
Nutflower stalked over to Gingerfur. "Come on, Gingerfur, let's go. We don't want to miss the meeting."
Ravenwing watched angrily as his mate walked away, her back turned to him. Gingerfur hurried after her, throwing worried glances after Ravenwing.
"Good! You have arrived," Whitestar greeted them with a throaty purr as they stepped into the Deerhollow. It was hardly a clearing, very small with random trees placed in the center. The green grass was flattened thoroughly from the deer which slept upon it while the Clan was not using it for battle training. All the warriors were gathered beneath the tallest tree in the Deerhollow in which Whitestar was balanced upon.
Nutflower settled down beside her brother, Firestripe. He was a light orange tabby with extremely long fur. He seemed to sense something was amiss.
"What's wrong, Nutflower?"
Nutflower's eyes narrowed as Ravenwing entered the clearing, but he padded over towards Nightsky, who greeted him with a hint of surprise.
"Warriors of WildClan!"
At the commanding yowl, all the cats instantly fell silent.
"There is grave news to be shared. Our enemy Stormyheart is finding more cats to support him. They are a threat to our Clan, and this is proved by the incident last night."
Whitestar nodded to Nightsky, who leapt onto a lower branch and drew a breath.
"On the night patrol, we were skirting the no-cat's land when Dawnlight scented rogue cats. We followed the scent all the way to the Twoleghouse, where we were ambushed!"
Gasps of horror followed the proclamation, but they died down as the black deputy continued.
"There were too many of them for us to fight off, so we were forced to run away. But, not before Stormyheart slaughtered Brackenpaw," Nightsky ended, voice breaking. He descended from the oak, composure expressionless.
A shocked silence was all that was heard. Then, chaos erupted.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" Palerose, the dead apprentice's mother, was wailing in grief along with the other warriors.
Whitestar looked like his heart had broken. "Palerose, I thought you knew!"
Nightsky stepped forwards once more. "It's my fault, Whitestar. I couldn't bear to tell her."
The white tabby tom's tail drooped. "No, Nightsky. I was not brave enough to inform my own mate of our son's death."
Palerose wavered, then collapsed heavily.
"Dovefeather!"
The gray and white medicine cat raced over to the fallen she-cat.
The other warriors watched in anxiety for Palerose while some continued to grieve for Brackenpaw with soft yowls.
But, there was one cat who was curious. His pale blue eyes glinted from his place in the mossy tree, far above the warriors. The tom did not feel concern for Palerose. He already knew that she was fine. What he wanted to know was, who was this Stormyheart? He sounded…
Powerful. Power was always good. It could be used for lots of things, not all of them unpleasant. No matter. He would find out soon.