Forget Me Not
Prologue
It was a night darker than usual, as rain-bearing clouds blocked both the moon and stars from shedding their light on the land around the lake. The sleek, lithe shapes of cats were gray against black as three glided silently through ferns and undergrowth. A large silver tabby she-cat led the patrol, guiding its direction while following a fresh trail. They were far too slow and cautious to be pursuing prey. No, the hunters were hunting for one of their own—a fellow predator.
A high-pitched scream traveled through the night. All three cats halted, sharing uneasy glances. "ThunderClan camp," the leader decided. The other cats nodded, and the patrol changed course. This time they broke into a dead run in the direction of the scream.
The silver tabby's heart lurched as they streamed in single file through the thorn tunnel that led to the stone hollow that ThunderClan called home. They could hear panicked mews coming from the other end of the camp, where a group of cats were huddled together. The nursery.
The silver tabby signalled with her tail for her cats to stay there, at the entrance to the camp, before padding cautiously forward to inspect the scene. The ThunderClan cats had formed a small circle around a limp form. It was far too dark to identify the body from afar, but it was definitely a full-grown warrior. One look told the silver tabby that the cat was dead, but she couldn't see a single wound on the cat, nor smell any blood. All she could scent was fear.
The ThunderClan cats had finally noticed the silver tabby and the strangers gathered in their camp. "SkyClan," they whispered, "SkyClan scouts are here." The crowd parted to let the silver tabby approach the body.
It was her mother.
"Stormflight." A pale tabby tom shouldered his way through the whispering cats, his amber eyes glowing with fury. "Leave us," he snarled. "This is ThunderClan business, not SkyClan's."
"Every Clan's business is SkyClan's, Galeclaw," the she-cat meowed sharply. "What happened here? How did Ashtail die?"
A dark golden tom limped to Galeclaw's side. One of his hind legs seemed bent strangely, giving him a hobbled gait. "Foxglove," he rasped. "She showed all signs of ingesting it, before she joined StarClan. As to where it came from…" He sighed heavily. "It may have been… hidden in her fresh-kill. It's the only way, unless she ate the seeds herself." The tom cast a look over his shoulder at Ashtail's body. "Foxglove seeds, hidden inside fresh-kill. It's certainly no way for a warrior to die."
Poison. Aster did this. "Have you and Rowanstar questioned your cats yet?" Stormflight demanded. "Who brought in Ashtail's piece of prey? Do you keep the foxglove seeds in your own stores?"
The medicine cat shook his head. "No, I don't keep foxglove. But Ashtail's death isn't all," he admitted quietly. "One of her kits is missing as well. Rowanstar's just sent out a patrol to look for him, but there hasn't been a single scent trail, the other kits hadn't noticed anything, no one's seen him leave the camp on his own..."
"And we don't need to question anyone," Galeclaw snarled, stepping between them. "We know who did this. This is Aster's work. Who else uses poison to kill cats in their sleep, inside their own camp?" He stepped forward, shoving his muzzle into Stormflight's. "And who," he growled, "has been tasked with hunting down that murderer, and has still failed to do so?"
Stormflight was a smaller cat than Galeclaw, but she drew herself up coldly to match his gaze. "We were following Aster's trail before we heard trouble from ThunderClan," she snapped, beckoning towards the other SkyClan cats. "All of SkyClan is trying to stop Aster, as are all the Clans."
"It's not enough to try!" Galeclaw roared. "How difficult is it to find one cowardly rogue, who skulks about in the shadows and kills proud warriors with tricks like poison? Do you expect me to sit and smile while you feed me false promises? Because of you incompetent lot, Ashtail and my son are gone!"
"Enough, Galeclaw." Stormflight recognized the large muscular form of ThunderClan's leader, Rowanstar. Galeclaw let out an angry snarl, but joined the rest of his Clan in mourning without further complaint. "I'm sorry, Stormflight," Rowanstar meowed quietly, "but I have to ask for SkyClan to leave."
She stared at the leader, her blue eyes narrowed. "And if we determine it necessary to intervene?"
Silence reigned the stone hollow as both ThunderClan and SkyClan held their breaths, watching the two cats. "Then intervene, freely," Rowanstar replied. "But please, consider returning at sunrise. Ashtail is not our first casualty in this war against Aster. Allow us to grieve, and to search for Frostkit." More than one cat let out a small sigh of relief.
"Then we shall return during daylight." Stormflight's eyes softened as she dipped her head in respect. "Our condolences to ThunderClan. We'll make sure all of SkyClan are notified to search for the missing kit, and return if we find any leads." She stood, and the other SkyClan cats stood with her. After a quick signal of her tail, they left the ThunderClan camp as quickly as they had come.
The SkyClan cats padded at a fair pace toward the lake. "Just the other sun it was a ShadowClan elder who was killed," one of the warriors growled. "And before that, a RiverClan apprentice. But a nursing queen and a kit? Aster's getting bolder, and we haven't gotten any closer to catching her."
"Don't talk like that, Foxwhisker. The kit's only missing; we don't know if it's dead." She let out a tired sigh as they drew closer to the SkyClan camp. "And we'll stop Aster. We have to."
They reached a small secluded clearing where other SkyClan cats were sleeping, and the three cats drifted apart toward their respective nests. The report on Aster and ThunderClan's loss had to wait until tomorrow, Stormflight decided. She made her way to her nest, hidden away underneath a tree's snarling roots. She rehearsed the report in her head, as she usually did. We found Aster's scent near the Sky Oak, she would say. It was fresh, so I took Foxwhisker and Whitefang to pursue the trail—
The silver tabby froze in her tracks. Aster's scent had been so fresh when she encountered it that it had set her fur bristling… but Aster hadn't poisoned Ashtail then. Every SkyClan scout had a basic knowledge of herbs, and Stormflight knew how foxglove worked. It was a slower poison than deadly nightshade or deathberries. Ashtail must have eaten that poisoned fresh-kill much earlier in the day. Was it just coincidence, then, that Aster's trail led a SkyClan patrol to ThunderClan close to the exact moment that Ashtail had died?
No. Stormflight knew enough by now that coincidences did not exist. Everything Aster did was a premeditated act, carefully crafted to fulfill some sinister purpose. Why was the rogue at the Sky Oak, so close to the SkyClan camp?
Could Aster have created that trail because she expected Stormflight to follow it? Did she want to shake the SkyClan cat's will by showing her the death of her mother?
Her thoughts halted when she realized that something—someone?—was in her nest. Confused, she padded closer. It was definitely a cat, but so small that she could have mistaken it for a rat.
It was the missing ThunderClan kit, his tail curled over his nose. He was her brother from a younger litter, but she didn't recognize him by sight. How could she? She hadn't returned to ThunderClan to visit ever since the day she had left it.
He wasn't breathing. She couldn't smell any blood—only the sickly sweet fragrance of flowers that she couldn't quite name, until she drew close enough to recognize the pink foxglove blossoms adorning her moss nest and masking the smell of blood. One flower was different from the rest, with tiny bright blue petals, and it was placed delicately on the kit's nose. Stormflight extended a shaky paw to the kit's body and stretched him out to look for the wound that might have killed him.
A single jagged line ran from the kit's throat down to his belly. Blood still leaked out from the scar into the moss nest, painting it red and brown. Shoved into the gaping wound were innumerable tiny black specks. Foxglove seeds, hidden inside fresh-kill.
Somewhere out there in the black night, a cat was washing her bloody paws in the lake, laughing.