Disclaimer: I do not own anything Warriors except for the characters' names.
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The petite gray medicine cat slipped out of his den, shaking the frost from his whiskers. Raising his eyes to the cloud-covered sky, his left eye ticked - he could tell something was wrong. There was a disturbance in the cosmos, and he could sense it. Suddenly agitated, the ash-colored medicine cat's deep blue eyes - the color of the lake, and the streams that ran through the territory - scoured the camp, overlooking each of the dens with nervous interest. Lastly, his gaze settled on the leader's den, a mossy nest beneath a pile of jagged boulders, lichen hanging off the side. The medicine cat stiffened. He could feel the disturbance yank at him, its force seeming to originate in the direction of the leader's den. Apprehension rising in his gut, the medicine cat returned to his damp den, sniffing his two whitecough patients as he padded silently by them. Rudderpaw and Splashfrost would survive this epidemic, he was sure of it. They were strong. He wasn't worried about them. What worried him was the painful, ragged coughing fits his heightened sense of hearing picked up from the leader's den.
Sleekstar was on her last life.
The Clan did not know that. She had told them she had three lives left, in order to maintain confidence amongst her Clan in this dark time of war and conflict.
But the medicine cat knew. Yes, he knew. Not because Sleekstar herself had told him, but because of his gift of communication with their warrior ancestors.
Sleekstar was going to die.
The medicine cat closed his eyes and bowed his head in sorrow, wishing he had more time with his old friend, remembering what StarClan had told him.
There will be a Gathering, at which the malicious will lose their grip and violence will break loose. A new spirit will join us, and StarClan will obscure the sky. Three dawns afterwards, the sun will be wreathed in darkness, its fiery tendrils fighting to break away from the darkness casting its shadow on the Clans.
The medicine cat shivered. The Gathering was tomorrow. He knew it could be any Gathering, but something cold and determined in his gut insisted it was this one. He gnawed his lip, an old habit of his.
Suddenly aware of another presence, the fur of the medicine cat's nape rose into spikes as he felt a new spirit touch him. This spirit was still slightly solid, and had undoubtedly been outside of its physical body for a very short time.
The medicine cat was suddenly aware that Sleekstar had stopped coughing.
Heart racing, the medicine cat glancing sideways at the beautiful silver spirit seated beside him. "It is time," Sleekstar's eighth life murmured, touching the medicine cat's cheek with her nose then losing her shape into the form of fog as she drifted up into the heavens.
The medicine cat sighed. Sleekstar was fortunate. She had departed from this realm of existence before the real suffering began.
Curling up in his den, the stone-gray medicine cat's heart felt heavy as he mourned for his leader. He knew he would barely sleep tonight, and he prayed to StarClan that if he did a spirit would come to him with consolation and/or advice.
He dreaded the knowledge of the fact that tomorrow morning, the Clan would find their leader dead. The death of such a strong leader was not what the Clan needed in these dark times. Yet fate had chosen Sleekstar's course, and she was in StarClan now, watching her Clan from above. The medicine cat hoped she was in peace.