If only she could go back in time. Erase the sins she had committed, and just go back to life before it happened, before her life had taken a darker turn. She had never seen it coming, but in hindsight, she could have easily prevented all of it from happening.
Yet she had decided to leave the comforts of her clan to wander the forest at night, which was a rash decision on her part, especially due to the fact that the first snow of Leaf-bare had just started freeze the earth. But when else would she be able to prove herself than that night? Anyways, she would be a hero by morning. What cat wouldn't want to be a hero?
So, she had snuck out, fueled by her hurt pride to prove that, yes, she was a better hunter than Quickpaw would ever be! And she meant ever. There was just no way in Starclan that her sister could be better than her at something. That morning, just after she had came into camp with three fish, Quickpaw had burst in with a giant squirrel, which was as large as her. Of course, the rest of the clan had to go see her twin and congratulate her on finding prey of that proportion so late in the year, leaving Whitepaw to fester by the prey pile.
When the moon was just a silver sliver against the black sky, she had easily slipped out of the apprentice den, curving around the dark gray Minnowpaw and the almost black tabby who's long body coiled around her, the body of her brother Rushpaw. She would impress him too.
With paws as light as feathers on the breeze, she broke into a quick sprint the moment she skirted past the sleeping Sparrowbelly who was supposed to be keeping guard. It was as easy as beating a kit in battle.
She stopped at the top of the shallow dip that marked the edge of the Riverclan camp, staring down at the dens that held her sleeping clanmates. Excitement rushed through her as she thought about what they'd think in the morning.
Skystar would wake up first, his dark blue eyes clouded with sleep. But they would widen the second he stepped out of his den, when he would see her standing in the middle of camp, laden with fish. He would ask her "Whitepaw, did you catch all of this? I thought you were only good at fighting." To which she'd reply, ""Unlike Quickpaw, I'm great at both!" And then the whole clan would come out and be amazed and she'd be made a warrior and Quickpaw would just sit there at the back of camp, glaring, but secretly looking up to her. Scratch that, all of the apprentices would look up to her. But if they were nice to her, she'd teach them how to be great hunters too.
Struggling to keep from purring, she marched into the forest, not at all scared at the creaking, bare trees overhead, or the wind as it made an eerie moan that carried across the lake. No, Whitepaw looked as if she was a kit out of camp for the first time. She'd start with some fish, and maybe even a mouse or two. Sniffing, she changed directions, heading towards the river. She smelled a mouse
Whitepaw dropped quickly into a hunters crouch. Land hunting wasn't her most developed skill, but by Starclan, she could at least catch a mouse. Squinting, she spotted a small, moving body in front of her through the darkness. There it was. She was extra careful to set her white paws down on snow, not on sticks and leaves that would give away her position.
The brown, plump mouse didn't seem aware of her as it nibbled away on a nut, ignoring her glowing ice blue eyes. It only turned when she was half a fox-length away, and all she had to do was bite down to kill it. Maybe she'd even have to make two trips back to camp!
Just as she was standing up, she heard voices coming from the river. She immediately stiffened. Riverclan didn't have a midnight patrol out that night. Nervously pricking her ears, she listened to see if she could hear it again. She inwardly cringed as she heard the voices again. It could be Windclan invaders! The small river she was heading towards emptied out into the lake by the Horse place and the island. It would be easy for Windclan to cross the small Thunder-path and be at the river for a midnight strike!
Catching prey would have to wait. Whitepaw carefully, so as not to make too much noise, made a hole in the frozen ground for the mouse, and covered it up. Her mentor Briarheart had always told her never to engage enemy clans by herself. But Briarheart was always so protective, and Whitepaw was the best fighter out of all the apprentices. She could handle herself. Besides, Windclanners were known for being yellow-bellied cowards. With the element of surprise on her side, she could take them. It wasn't like they'd kill her. She'd be made a warrior right away!
With all thoughts of personal safety buried with her mouse, she confidently slunk forward, her claws unsheathed and ready to be full of Windclan fur. The voices got louder as she got closer. She privately sighed in relief as she realized that there were two, maybe three cats. So they wanted to take territory, huh? At midnight? What a rat-faced thing to do. Whitepaw scoffed quietly. Trust those rabbit-breathed cowards to underestimate her clan!
The voices were only low murmurs; she crept into a thick clump of reeds, curious as to what they were saying, but also staying hidden. Her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the cats.
There were only two of them, a whispy-furred gray she-cat, and a strong amber colored tom. And they were…cuddling? Sharing-tongues? Windclan stench came off the tom, but the she-cat…the she-cat was Mistfur! Mistfur, the Riverclan medicine cat!
Frozen in shock, Whitepaw stared at the two, in horror and fascination as the tom purred deeply.
"I love you, Mistfur." Blegh. Just as she had thought. But Medicine cats weren't' supposed to take mates, especially ones from other clans. How long had Mistfur been doing this? She had to tell Skystar! But moving now would reveal her presence, so she was forced to watch the two lovers.
"Do your clanmates suspect anything?" Mistfur asked, her green eyes cautious as she peered around the clearing. The amber-pelted tom shook his head, rubbing up against her.
"Not a thing. How about our kits? Are they…well? You know I wish to join Riverclan, but I cannot leave my kin behind." Mistfur sighed at this, obviously sad. But Whitepaw pricked her ears. Kits? Mistfur had been slightly larger the last few moons…She had broken the warrior code many times over, and it was Whitepaw's duty to show it to her clan.
"They are well, I slipped them into Mintflower's litter. She's been a long-time friend of mine, she understood, Rowanheart. One died, I buried him in the snow." She relaxed into the tom, apparently Rowanheart's, body, staring up at the moon. "But you joining would evoke suspicion. Whiskerpaw has almost finished his training…I could join Windclan." Rowanheart shrugged, his head on Mistfur's shoulder.
Whitepaw watched them sit there for a while, discussing, or more likely, sharing dangerous information about their clans. What would Rowanheart do with the information that their deputy Honeylight was suffering from a twisted paw? And she knew that if Ashstar had white-cough, the rest of Windclan could have it as well. She would just have to get Mistfur to confess to Skystar before this went too far!
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow night, love." Rowanclaw purred, his bushy tail tickling Mistfur as he leapt across the stream, on to Windclan territory.
"Same place, same time, right?" Mistfur called after him. He swished his tail, winking his dark green eyes.
"Yep, unless I'm called off on some crazy patrol." Mistfur let out a long purr, and wistfully watched him disappear into the darkness.
"So this is how a medicine cat spends her time?" Whitepaw growled, emerging from the reeds. Mistfur whirled around, eyes wide in surprise as she saw the white apprentice stalking towards her. Riverclan needed a good medicine cat, and Mistfur wasn't acting the part. Anyways, if she was removed from her position, Whiskerpaw was more than capable of taking over.
"Wh-Whitepaw! What are you doing up so late?" The gray medicine cats voice was trembling as she kneaded her paws nervously into the earth. Her fur was raised, either from fear or the merciless chill.
"What are you doing, Mistfur? You have to tell Skystar about this, or I will." Whitepaw challenged. She narrowed her blue eyes, making her voice sound as stern as possible.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't! I want to stay a medicine cat, but I can't leave Rowanheart. Please, just forget you ever saw this." Whitepaw rolled her eyes as Mistfur begged her. She had to do what was best for the clan.
"I'm sorry too, but you broke the code. You can't have kits, or a mate." Tears glistened in Mistfur's eyes as she looked away, trembling. Whitepaw felt a little bit guilty, but she was doing what was best, wasn't she? Sure, nothing bad had happened when Mistfur had her kits, but still.
"Uh, Mistfur…" Whitepaw began, only to step back as the gray she-cat swung her head back, fury in her light green eyes.
"Shut up! I know I can't have a mate, I've heard it every day of my life! I know already! But you can't take Rowanheart away from me!" Whitepaw began to move backwards, away from the raving she-cat.
But Mistheart was too quick, ramming into her and knocking her to the ground, her head smashing against a rock.
Stars flew across her vision as Mistheart swayed above her, shifting in and out of focus as white fangs emerged from her gray mouth. Long, sharp white fangs.
"N-no…I-I won't tell." She meowed, but her voice seemed to come from a million miles away, and she felt as if she was swathed in cotton.
"You won't take my happiness away, Whitepaw. You can't tell. Never. Nope. Your voice must be silenced." Mistfur's green eyes flashed above her, shifting and swirling like the river as Whitepaw gazed blankly up, her head feeling like it was being cracked open. She let out a little whimper, even moving her tail sent pain arcing up her spine.
No. No. She couldn't die. She was going to be a warrior, and prove herself to her clanmates. But the white fangs were already coming down for the kill.
As if by a primal instinct, she threw the mad medicine cat off with a mighty heave of her back paws, wincing as she got to her feet. The ground seemed to be spinning as she stumbled forward.
Mistfur didn't come and get her, so she guessed the she-cat had run off. Crouching low to the ground, she let out a moan, her throbbing head making her nauseous. She stayed there for a long time, her whole body tensed and afraid to move.
When the pain finally stopped, she carefully straightened up, only to gasp as she saw the slumped figure of Mistfur lying on the ground. She shot forward, her head aching dully as she collapsed next to the gray she-cat. Her chest did not rise and fall, and a red bump was on the back of her head.
No. No. Whitepaw had though the first cat she would kill would be in battle, but not at all her medicine cat. Dead, dead, dead. Another thought drifted through her head. She couldn't go back to camp. How would she explain being out of camp so late? And that there trusty medicine cat had a mate and kits? She would be killed. Hot tears poured from her eyes as sobs racked her body. She wished she had never come out there. But she just couldn't leave Riverclan.
Trembling, she pushed the body into the river, washing off her scent and hopefully all evidence. Okay, yes. This might work. She wouldn't be a murderer, and there would be one less traitor in the forest. Whiskerpaw could take over, and she would play the part of a grieving clanmate. If the body ever were discovered, Windclan would be to blame.
With a heavy heart, she watched her medicine cat vanish into the river that reflected a million stars, never to be seen again. Life would go on in Riverclan. Perhaps it was better that Mistfur was gone.
When she got back to camp, she took the same path she did before, her mind buzzing. It all seemed unreal to her that now a cat was dead. Everything had happened so fast.
She quietly slipped into the apprentice den, her fur smelling of cold snow and starlight as she lay down in her cold moss bed beside her white and gray sister, Quickpaw.
"Whitepaw, what're you doin' up?" Her sister slurred, eyes clouded with sleep. Whitepaw sighed, curling up tightly next to her sister as if nothing had ever happened.
"I went to make dirt, now go to bed, Quickpaw." She listened as Quickpaw's breaths smoothed into a steady rhythm of sleep. Soon, her own breathing matched her sister's, and as the moon shone above, no cat knew about the body at the bottom of the river of a million stars.
The snow that fell softly outside of the warm den covered up her tracks, a white layer that held a murderous secret beneath.