A bitter, forsaken wind stirs leaves along the floor of shady moors, nearly the only movement present in the camp that night. Dim skies cast even dimmer light on the grass, and shadows are ever in abundance as miserable cats huddle together to keep from freezing to death.
You sigh, huddling closer to a branch almost subconciously, praying for the cold to cease. The empty moors are chilling, spilled blood flowing in rivers, the scent of it heavy. Under the gorse bush, you feel the abscence of your precious Clanmates harder than ever. The open skies you love are obscured by branches, shutting you in and engulfing you in darkness. Fear-scent, mingling with the thick tension and the coppery tang of blood, flood your nostrils and override your other senses until you can't even feel the wind slice through your fur. Please, StarClan, just let it end.
As if an answer to your prayers, figures creep through heather and gorse, tails flicking. Broad-shouldered silhouettes press against the horizon, contrasting with barely-present moonlight. Around a large boulder they crowd themselves, pressing together like trapped rabbits in a burrow. Sickly yellow catches a ray of moonshine, and an even sicklier figure creeps up the boulder and stares down with hollow eyes.
"Warriors of WindClan," she begins, and you understand. One by one, cats file out of the nursery, gorse chafing fur as kits and queens alike duck under branches with grace and speed only known to WindClan, joined by elders and apprentices. The warriors hardly acknowledge you, only scooting aside slightly to allow more space.
Seeing all of her Clan gathered, Sallowstar begins her announcement. "We have fought bravely, as always. But WindClan was defeated," She pauses, allowing her statement to sink in before moving on. You aren't surprised, though, and neither is anyone else. WindClan has lost every battle for the past few moons, and below-freezing leaf-bares weren't exactly helping the matter. RiverClan, however, has plenty of fish in the river, considering that the fish have nowhere to hide and no reason to die. You almost envy how soft they've become; how easy their lives are.
"In honor of our fallen, we are holding silent vigil tonight. Friends and relatives of Fawnfur, Harestep, and Dogtooth, please stand vigil at the gorge tonight." More pauses. A silence louder than words as cats nod their heads. The hardened gazes of hardened warriors stare straight ahead, unfeeling, waiting for the speech to continue, the nadir having been established. Nobody feels. Nobody speaks. "And in honor of our brave apprentices, we are naming new warriors tonight. First, however, we will name new apprentices. Flurrykit, Snowkit, Dreamkit, please step forward."
You obey, and so do your brothers. "It has been six moons since these cats were first kitted, first became one of us. From then on, they have breathed our air, walked our ground, shared our prey. We present to you, StarClan, the newest apprentices and future warriors of WindClan." She's angled her head toward the sky now, fixated on warrior ancestors who have made the speech before her. "Flurrykit, you were named for your stormy eyes and messy fur. We ask StarClan to bless you on your path toward the life of a warrior."
Heads bowed, silent prayer echoing through your head as your brother climbs up the rock. You look up, breaking your silent prayer, almost struck by how proud of himself he looks. He tries to look tough, although his eyes betray his joy, and his alrady-fluffy chest hair is fluffed out in pride, the tangled mess swaying slightly in the night breeze. One by one, heads rise as the ritual reaches its end, followed at last by Sallowstar, who continues.
"Talonfur," The cat whose name is spoken bounds up the rock, his thin frame upright as he sits next to Flurrykit. "You have been chosen to mentor this apprentice. We hope you pass on your wit and charm to this young cat. I deem you Flurrypaw, newest apprentice of WindClan." Talonfur touches noses with Flurrypaw, and then they leave in a flash of white and brown fur, joining the other apprentices in the crowd.
"Snowkit, you were named for your fluffy, snow-like fur. We ask StarClan to bless you on your path toward the life of a warrior." Heads bow, then return to their normal stance. "Stonefall, you have been chosen to mentor this apprentice. We hope you pass on your calmness and precision to this young cat. I deem you Snowpaw, newest apprentice of WindClan." The mentor's nose meets the apprentice's, and they, too, disappear into the crowd. This is it, you think. You're next. Heart racing, you prepare to leap the tall, smooth stone as your name is called. In the blink of an eye, you can feel the hard, cold texture under your paws, and everything seems to be moving faster than normal.
Something smells of mint, yet nobody seems to have noticed. Heads bow before you, and you fluff out your fur subconciously. For a few precious moments, you stare into the sky, wondering if your father can see you. Is he proud of you?
You have no time to think, though. The minty scent is even stronger now, and you find yourself sniffing the air. Some cats look at you strangely, and you realize that you are the only one who notices it. The scenery is shifting almost as fast as your heart and mind are racing, mossy rocks replacing grassy shoots and raging river water spilling over dirt and sand. You're almost jumping out of your fur in sheer terror as the familiar scents of your Clanmates disappear, gradually being replaced by the rank smell of crowfood, fish, mint, and fear.
All in all, it isn't a pleasant combination, and you're jumping out of your fur again as you hear voices from cats that you can't see. They seem to be surrounding you, though, and the cat reeking of crowfood is breathing down your neck.
` Yowls pierce the black cape of night that has descended over the sky. A horrible splash- the fishy scent is gone. The fear-scent is stronger now. "I don't know what you want, but I'll go down fighting to my death if I have to! I swear to it!"
For a heartbeat, you can't tell if you were the one who had shouted so loudly, but when you open your mouth to apologize you find that no sound comes out. More yelping, and the sounds of fighting nearly drown out another splash, the minty scent disappearing.
"What will you accomplish by killing us all?" It's the same voice as earlier, and you realize that the fear-scented cat is speaking. The crowfood-scented one is advancing, breath stirring your ear fur. You can almost feel its claws unsheathing to deliver a final blow...
"My dear, you do not seem to understand." A cruel meow this time, one that chills your bones and sends a cold shiver down your spine.
"I never will if you won't tell me!"
Another splash. Only the crowfood-scent is left, and it ebbs away slowly. Everything blurs out once again, shifting and changing, and you close your eyes to escape the horrors. Inside your mind's eye, images dance around, distorting, horribly deformed. Yellow fur, streaked with blood, the multicolored pelt of a calico- ginger, black, and white fur that blurs into the shape of a white cat with eyes that fade in and out. Bile rises in your throat. You're almost afraid to open your eyes, but when you do, you see a crowd- cats, heads bowed in silent prayer. You are safe, safe under the open skies, safe with your Clanmates. Something had jerked you back into reality, and whatever it was, you were forever grateful.
The minty scent again. Your eyes widen and your claws unsheath, prepared to fight, but it only curls its tail around you. You relax and lean into it a bit, almost purring, breathing in the delicious smell of mint. It ebbs away under you, and you almost beg for it to come back, but it only whispers to you.
"One light, one dark, both of different worlds, will join forces to destroy the Terror."