In the sheen of the silver moonlight, a massive, but scrawny, gray tabby tom seated himself at the edge of the rolling river. His blind blue eyes narrowed in concentration as he watched the fish in the stream struggle to defeat the current. The tom twitched an ear as the brush of the meadow thicket parted, and a small brown tabby picked her way through the twisted roots of the tree towering above.
"How is Howling Wind?" Rock murmured to the she-cat. His heart seemed to beat faster whenever he thought of his sickly son- his own blood. Perhaps Rock anticipated the idea of young descendants, in the long run, assuming that Howling Wind managed to recover from the leaf-bare sickness.
"He's fine, Rock," she reassured her mate. Her tail-tip twitched as she glanced over at the skinny tom, who was intently staring at the rushing water. His paws shuffled awkwardly as he swiveled his head to look at the petite she-cat. Parting his jaws to speak, Rock heaved a long sigh prior.
"I've had a vision, Water," Rock whispered, with uncertainty ringing in his voice. The young tom had always been blind, straight from birth, but he maintained the gift of receiving visions whenever some means of an omen was passed down from the heavens. Water sat down approximately one mouse-length away from the Healer. She rested the tail-tip of her bushy tail onto Rock's slender shoulder, indicating for him to continue.
"I desperately hope I am wrong, Water.. but if the vision remains true: we will be overrun."