CHAPTER ONE
"Quiet Storm, Deer Eyes, it's time to head back!" called Playful Brook.
The two fledgling sentries were marking their scent along the edge of the river that separated the Tribe of Many Rivers from the Tribe of White Fields. The name suited them; Quiet Storm could see the countless white blossoms that covered every inch beyond the river.
"Thank the Stars," Deer Eyes grumbled. "I thought we'd be out here until the stars came out."
Quiet Storm snickered, but Playful Brook silenced both of them with a sharp look.
Quiet Storm flicked her tail and started off back toward camp, following behind Deer Eyes and Playful Brook. The dusk light turned the sky pink and gold, dappled white with clouds. The air was warm and the sound of buzzing insects accompanied the gently flowing river. Finding herself dawdling to enjoy the calm sunset, Quiet Storm quickened her pace to catch up.
"I hope the scouts brought back something good tonight. Like a hare," she remarked to Deer Eyes.
The fawn colored tom twitched his whiskers. "You're going to eat a hare by yourself?"
"Well, I was going to share with you, but if you insist, I suppose I could finish one off…"
Deer Eyes nudged her playfully. "If there's a hare, I'll tear it in half before I let you have one to yourself."
"Not if I get to it first!" Quiet Storm kicked off, breaking into a run. She grinned to herself, hearing Deer Eyes' taunts behind her.
"Wait!"
"No way, Deer Eyes!"
"I didn't say anything," Deer Eyes called.
Quiet Storm skid to a stop and looked over her shoulder. Deer Eyes and Playful Brook were heading back toward the river, which was still in view. Beyond the river, she could see two cats standing side by side. Curious at who they were, she trotted briskly to Playful Brook's side.
"We were hoping a patrol would be passing by," said the cat to the left. He was a large brown tabby tom, larger than most White Fields cats, but still slender like them.
"You're in luck," Playful Brook murmured. She was eying the cats carefully. Once she saw the other cat, however, she dipped her head respectfully. "Owl Talon, this is Quiet Storm and Deer Eyes, fledgling sentries." Playful Brook looked back toward the fledglings. "And this is Owl Talon, healer of the Tribe of White Fields."
Quiet Storm and Deer Eyes quickly dipped their heads.
Owl Talon nodded placidly, though she looked concerned. "This is Tall Alder." She motioned at the large tom. "If you could escort us to camp, I'd like to speak with Hare Leap. I have important news to deliver."
"What news?" Playful Brook said.
"You'll find out soon enough. Right now, I just need to see Hare Leap," Owl Talon said hurriedly.
Playful Brook simply nodded. "I'll guide you to a shallow part of the river. You can cross there."
Once the two cats were safely across, the patrol guided them to camp at a brisk pace. Soon enough, they crossed through the fallen tree tunnel that lead into Many Rivers' camp: a dry lakebed.
Cats of all shapes and sizes milled about, chatting, sharing prey, or making routine repairs to the log and moss dens. Quiet Storm purred softly to herself. Returning to camp after a long patrol made her feel comfortable, like this was the place she belonged in.
As they entered, a few cats stopped to look at them. They no doubt had smelled the strong floral scent of White Fields cats, and noticed the two cats were strangers among the patrol.
"Quiet Storm, Deer Eyes, go and get something to eat. I'll take our guests to Hare Leap," Playful Brook commanded.
The two fledglings heeded, and trotted off toward the fresh kill pile.
Quiet Storm looked over the pile and frowned. "No hare."
"It's getting to leaf-fall, feel lucky we have this much prey," Deer Eyes mumbled through the furry red squirrel he had in his jaws.
Quiet Storm sighed with annoyance. Sometimes Deer Eyes could be such a grump. But sometimes he was funny, too, so she could tolerate being fledglings with him. She grabbed a trout off of the pile, enjoying the fishy taste of the juices as her teeth sank into it. She carried the prey off toward a big fern by the fledglings' den.
Until she lied down with the trout, she didn't realize how tired she was. She'd been battle training with Starling Swoop all morning, practice sparring with Deer Eyes in the afternoon, and on the patrol at dusk. Now, the sky was darkening overhead, and the twinges of salmon pink she'd seen in the clouds had almost entirely faded. She yawned, then took a bite of the fish. She couldn't wait to get into her nest tonight. It always seemed comfier after a long day.
Looking across camp, she could see Owl Talon talking to Hare Leap. The big white leader looked stoic, as usual, so Quiet Storm couldn't tell what the news was from her reaction. After a few minutes of talking, Hare Leap flicked her feathery tail and walked toward the Half Tree. Quiet Storm hadn't noticed that Fallen Pine was standing behind the leader. He accompanied her to the Half Tree, sitting to the left as healers did during tribe meetings. Flame Path, Hare Leap's second, sat to her right.
"Cats of the Tribe of Many Rivers, gather to hear my words," Hare Leap called from the top of the Half Tree. From her perch, she towered above the whole camp, and twice as big as she did on the ground. Quiet Storm remembered being frightened of the leader as a kitten because of how she towered over even the taller cats of the tribe.
Quiet Storm licked her paws clean, having buried the bones of the trout just outside of camp. She gathered along with the rest of the cats, sitting beside Deer Eyes and Speckled Pebble, a fledgling scout.
"I saw you and Deer Eyes bring those cats to camp," the tortoiseshell molly whispered to Quiet Storm. "Who are they?"
"The healer of White Fields is the molly, and the tom is a sentry," Quiet Storm responded. "They had some news, but wouldn't say what."
Once most of the cats had taken their place below the Half Tree, Hare Leap spoke again. "Owl Talon, healer of the Tribe of White Fields, has come to share important news. This is a serious matter, and I expect all of you to show Owl Talon the same respect you would show me."
Hare Leap jumped down from the tree and sat beside Flame Path. Owl Talon took the position, scrabbling a bit to leap up. She looked much smaller compared to Hare Leap, her lithe figured different than Hare Leap's furry bulk.
The healer took a deep breath before speaking. "The Stars have gone silent." She stated simply.
A few murmurs coursed through the crowd of cats.
"I do not hear them in my dreams, or see their faces in the Falls. Normally, I hear them nightly, but I have not heard anything in seven sunrises."
The murmurs grew into shouts, cries of shock, despair, and confusion.
"Do the other healers know about this?" A voice declared, louder than the others.
The crowd parted slightly around Clever Raven, a scout. He was known for speaking his mind. He held his head high, and stared directly at Owl Talon.
Owl Talon shifted on her paws. "Yes. I spoke with Dark Cloud of Broken Stones this morning, and your healer Fallen Pine just a moment ago. Both had also not heard from the Stars in the past seven sunrises."
Attention shifted to Fallen Pine. He said nothing, but nodded sharply in confirmation.
"The Stars are strange beings," Owl Talon continued. "Sometimes they are quiet toward us. The spirits of our ancestors and the Great Beasts are volatile, and not like us, but they are wiser and know what they are doing. It's…difficult to determine their intentions right now." She paused, and looked at her paws. "Tomorrow night, at the full moon, we will all meet at the Falls. Not just healers- all cats who are well enough to leave camp may come. There, we will try to reconnect with the Stars. With all of our cats combined, perhaps our words will be strong enough to reach them."
The cats below her voiced their agreement. As long as there was still hope, they were pleased.
"That is all." Owl Talon was silent for a moment. "I hope to see you all tomorrow night." With that, she scrabbled down from the Half Tree.
"You are dismissed," Hare Leap said, ending the meeting. "Playful Brook, please escort Owl Talon and Tall Alder back to the border."
By now, the sky was dark and full of stars. Quiet Storm yawned, and stretched her neck. She longed for her nest. She mewed a soft good-night to Speckled Pebble and Deer Eyes before the three fledglings headed to their den- a hollow log covered in the remains of water plants and moss.
The moment Quiet Storm curled up in her moss nest, she felt herself grow heavy and drift into sleep. Everything was warm, and dark…
Then it was light. Bright, white light. And cold. A freezing wind penetrated through her fur and pierced her skin like shards of ice.
She looked up. The sky was solid pale grey, and snow flurried down in every direction. She could see her breath in front of her in clouds, and her chest heaved.
She was running, and fast. Her paws sent up puffs of snow with each bound. She dodged trees and darted over rocks, running faster than she'd ever run before. That's when she saw what she was running after. A beautiful doe ran in front of her, a foxlength or two out of her reach. It ran in graceful leaps, a stark contrast to her frenzied pace.
Quiet Storm focused on her target. No cat could take down a deer; they were too large and could easily fight back. It was a bit of a taboo to eat deer meat as well, as a carcass found was often killed by…
Wolves. A pack 20 strong ran behind her, breathing as heavily as she was and running just as fast. It didn't seem like they were chasing her, though. No, she was leading them. They were her pack, and they were going to catch the deer.
The wolves came up beside her, huge and heavy-pawed. She was in awe of their ferocity, their determination. They pulled closer and closer to the doe as it tired and they only grew more energized. Quiet Storm was so close, she could feel the heat from it's body.
The doe took a sharp turn, but the pack did not. Quiet Storm stopped, confused. They were so close! The pack swarmed around her, running forward still. She paused, hunched over, trying to catch her breath. If they weren't running after the deer, why were they running?
She turned around slowly, hearing nothing but her own beating heart. In the near distance, a creature was running toward her- fast. It looked like a wolf, but smaller, and brown. Its eyes were wild and hungry. It growled, showing sharp yellow teeth. She'd heard of a creature like this in stories, but they hadn't been seen in the mountains for hundreds of generations. It was a coyote.
Quiet Storm tried to run, but her paws would not move. She felt fear rising in her chest as it raced toward her. Its jaws parted, and it lunged.
She woke up to soft sunlight and the sound of Speckled Pebble breathing next to her. It had just been a dream, a very vivid dream. She sighed, and got to her paws slowly, feeling more tired than when she'd gone to sleep.