"Fogpaw! Fogpaw!"
A small white she-cat slid under a bramble into a small clearing, and by the side of it was a stream. An older, dark brown tom trailed behind, a look of exasperation on his face.
"Icepaw, we've looked everywhere. I'm positive she's gone… um… like, gone to hunt with… er… StarClan."
"No, Oakstripe! She's not dead! It was just a few moments ago we heard her…"
"The currents here are very fast, Icepaw. She could have been easily washed away. But, look on the bright side, she's—"
"There is no bright side, Oakstripe! Where ever she is, she's probably cold… and lonely.."
"Don't worry about it, Icepaw. Besides, it's your first medicine cat gathering tomorrow night! Maybe you'll see Fogpaw there."
Temporarily blinded by the cold mountain water, Fogpaw was being somewhat blown away by the blindingly fast flowing stream. There wasn't any hope for a half-trained ThunderClan apprentice like her; considering her paws were numb, and her shoulder was bleeding out, after being pierced by the jagged rocks. Fogpaw had tried to call out for
help, but it seemed she was too far away for anyone to see or hear her…
Fogpaw groaned at the feeling of fur against fur, not realizing she was being helped. Her gray fur now black, she was dragged out onto shore, still bleeding, and too shaken up to be thinking straight. After a few moments, Fogpaw regained her vision and stared up at
the tabby tom in front of her.
"Foxtail… is that you?"
What seemed to be miles away, four small, slender cats sat with a pleading look in their eyes before a dark gray tabby tom.
"Duststar! What has happened to Icepaw and Fogpaw?"
"What are we going to do, Duststar?"
"I think they went over to RiverClan camp by mistake… if we cross the border, Willowstar will kill us!"
"Where is Oakstripe?"
A few tail-lengths away, out of earshot and eyeshot, a young golden brown she-cat gazed admiringly at three small kits. Beside the kits was a proud queen—Nightstorm, to be exact.
"What are their names?" Honeypaw asked.
"They don't have names yet. And after Tigerleaf died, I don't know what to name them…do you have any ideas?"
The three kits mewled up at Honeypaw. One of them, the only she-kit in the litter, was a tortoiseshell, with a long tail that flew around everywhere, mainly whacking her brothers. The other one was black and white, and had his father's build, although Honeypaw vaguely remembered Tigerleaf. He was jet-black too, but he had died of greencough the day after Nightstorm had moved into the nursery-- at least three moons back, when Honeypaw was still a kit. The last one, who was tan, white, and dark brown, lay perfectly still, purring calmly.
"I think I'm going to name this one Leafkit," Nightstorm meowed, nudging the tortoiseshell.
"How about Ravenkit for this one?" Honeypaw asked, talking about the black and white tom.
"Ravenkit's perfect. And.. I think I'll name this one…"
"Owlkit?"
"Sure."
This was great. Honeypaw got to help name three kits, and she had a great day of training, and for sure, she had her sisters—
"Honeypaw!" an apprentice cried out to her. Rainpaw, she figured.
"Your sisters—they're gone!"