The pale-skinned girl walked to the apprentices' hut with an excited bounce in her step, despite the exhaustion in her pale green eyes. As the dark-haired apprentice collapsed tiredly in her nest, she couldn't shake the feeling of fear and dread that had plagued her mind all day like dark, ominous storm clouds.
Blossompaw's eyes fluttered open, blinking before taking in her surroundings. Soft orange lights illuminated the seemingly endless darkness around her. She propped herself up on the hard, cool, surface she found herself lying on. A barely audible 'hiss' was the only warning she received before being surrounded by thick, darkish gray mist the color of storm clouds along with the almost suffocating scents of smoke and rotting flesh.
She reached out, as if compelled by some unknown force, toward the mist. A sharp jolt up her arm was the last thing she felt before crumpling to the ground.
Far away, in another Clan, lavender eyes flashed open in alarm as a prophecy echoed in the white-haired apprentice's ears:
Unless the six unite against the two, the strife shall rule all, and the Clans will be no more.