Hey! As you can see, my name is minchyka. Basically, the alleigances are on my iPod, and I can only upload from my laptop. Soo, expect them soon. Also, This, although short, is my first story on here, so please, please, PLEASE review!
Prologue
A small, black and white cat sat facing the rushing water, her ears angling at any sound, her body tensed, ready to run, at the slightest sound of threat…
"Cloverpaw?" The small cat started, and whipped around, her blue eyes searching for the source of the call. Her gaze locked on two cats, and she relaxed, as she recognised her mentor, and her oldest friend.
"Dawnstar, Rosethorn, how can I help?" She dipped her head respectfully, and the ginger and white she-cat licked her forehead.
"I heard Oakfur kitted while we were at the gathering, are they okay?" The dusky brown tabby asked, and Cloverpaw nodded.
"She's fine, Rosethorn. Two toms, one she-kit, but I fear the smallest won't make it through the night." Cloverpaw remarked gravely. Dawnstar gave a small squeak of alarm, but Cloverpaw nudged her.
"Your kits are fine, Dawnstar, considering they haven't been born yet!" She purred. Dawnstar sighed, and Rosethorn frowned.
"Three kits, you say? Dawnstar, do you mind if I talk to my apprentice in private?" She added to her leader, who nodded bemusedly, turned and headed in the direction of home. Rosethorn leaned in to the black and white she-cat.
"Do you think it's time?" The black and white she-cat nodded solemnly.
"Yes, Rosethorn, I do. These are the cats who will save us from the impending darkness." She shivered, as she remembered the words uttered to her so many moons ago, when she first became Rosethorn's apprentice. Looking up, her blue eyes reflecting the moon's silvery light, she asked;
"Shouldn't Dawnstar know? I mean, she is our leader?" Rosethorn frowned, and shook her head.
"No, Cloverpaw." Looking out at the landscape, she closed her eyes, as if imagining the beautiful sights bathed in blood. Sighing, she added to the young cat next to her, her amber eyes narrowed.
"I think the almost certain battle may be Dawnstar's fault."
Cloverpaw gasped, and glanced back over to her leader, who was helping a furless elder into camp, licking his shoulder encouragingly. She found it hard to believe that the gentle, caring she-cat could be so ruthless and cold-hearted, but shook off her thoughts, and looked questioningly at the tabby next to her.
"D'you think it'll happen soon?" She asked tentatively. Rosethorn turned once again to face the rushing river.
"Hard to tell. It might not happen in my lifetime, but it will most definitely happen before you are called to join our ancestors." Suddenly, she fixed her apprentice with a glare so icy that Cloverpaw recoiled. Her neck fur on end.
"No cat can know. These kits must be treated the same as all other kits, or arrogance can become a problem."
Cloverpaw processed what she said, and let her fur lie flat. Widening her eyes, she asked.
"Will these cats be able to save us?" Her voice wavered with fear, and her blood ran cold. The future of all four Clans depended on these kits.
Rosethorn sighed.
"I hope so, or we're in for one heck of a ride.
