1The sky was dark. No moon was out. It was night. Two cats crouched in the shadows. One of them moaned softly in pain as her flanks rippled. She was giving birth to her kits. After a few minutes of pain, a small form entered the world. The second cat licked it all over, clearing the birth membrane from its mouth and nose. "It's a tom," he meowed to the female.
"The next on is coming fast, Pyre," the queen mewed in a strained voice, "But it feels small, so it should be easier."
Pyre, the male cat, nodded and waited with his newborn son. He kept his body curled around the kit's to keep it warm. Though he appeared cold and hard on the outside, Pyre was actually a very romantic tom. He was very much in love with his mate and his new son. He wondered wether the next kit would be male or female. With another yowl from his mate, a second shape entered the world. The queen took it on herself to care for this one.
Licking it all over, the she-cat reveled in the strength of its tiny heart beating. She could hear the pulse even from the height her head was at. She breathed in its scent. "A she-kit," she meowed happily to Pyre. Pyre nodded.
"You have your daughter and I have my son, Spark," Pyre purred, "This night is blessed. I will name my son. He will be called Weaver of Reveries, Weaver for short."
Spark nodded. "And my daughter will be called Hex of the New Moon, after the night she was born. We shall call her Hex."
Pyre transferred Weaver to Spark's side so he could have his first meal. The newborn kit drank Spark's milk greedily. Hex merely lay where she was.
"Pyre..." Spark whispered, "Why isn't she moving? Her heartbeat was so clear. She can't have died already!"
Pyre prodded Hex with a massive ginger paw. The kit remained motionless. He gently turned her onto her back. Blazing green eyes burned up at him. Not only was Hex alive, she was staring straight at him. Pyre's courage deserted him. Hex's eyes shouldn't have been open now. They should be closed for another few moons. The green lights blinked out briefly, then went right back to staring. The big night-black tom backed away uncertainly. He looked nervously over his shoulder. Hex crawled over to Spark's side and began to nurse.
Spark looked up at Pyre. She had seen it too. "Pyre...What does it mean?" she breathed.
"I'm not sure, Spark," Pyre replied, "Perhaps our daughter is strong in ways other than body. When she gazed up at me, I felt a presence behind me. That is why I looked."
"Did you see anything?" Spark demanded.
"Nothing," Pyre mewed, shaking his head in confusion, "Nothing at all. Just darkness."
"Perhaps what she saw left when it knew it had been seen. Maybe it was trying to kill you in secret, but Hex stopped it!"
Pyre looked over his shoulder once again, but saw nothing. He sighed. "I'll get you something to eat," he meowed, "You must be hungry after being in labor for so long."
"That would be lovely, Pyre. Thank you."
Pyre nodded and walked away into the night. Spark watched him go. She didn't see, however, Hex lift her tiny head, milk dripping from her muzzle. The kit's green eyes opened again. She stared intently at nothing, then nodded. By the time Spark looked down at her again, Hex had resumed drinking milk. Spark sighed. Something odd was going on, and it had to do with an innocent, newborn kit, who was probably not as innocent as she seemed.
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The kits grew healthy and normal. Pyre and Spark noticed each of the two had a unique quirk to them. Weaver would often sit to one side, muttering under his breath and swaying from side to side. He had developed an odd fascination with the Moon, often gazing up at it for hours on end. That was okay; cats had always had a special relationship with the Moon and Stars. But Hex...
Hex was something completely different. Like Weaver, she would sit alone and talk, but rather than mumble her words, she spoke as if carrying on an actual conversation. It wasn't that she talked to rocks or trees. Hex talked to thin air. And she was speaking some strange language that neither Pyre nor Spark could figure out for the life of them. She would become very angry when they pulled her away from her 'conversations.'
The two cats worried about Hex. She was obviously just a kitten, unable to stand up to her parents if they decided to kill her. But they wouldn't dare. As embarrassing as it was to them, Pyre and Spark were deathly afraid of their kit. They wondered if she was a demon-cat. They made the decision one night to abandon Hex the next night. If she came back, they would praise her as a great cat and hopefully appease any anger she had against them. If not...she was an ordinary kit.
The plan had been made while Pyre and his mate were far from their offspring. Neither had said anything even remotely relating to their "plot." Yet, still the same, after one of her conversations, Hex padded over to her parents and mewed, "I really don't think it's a good idea." They had asked her what. "You were planning to abandon me tomorrow night. Something about finding out if I was a demon."
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Hex sprang onto of Weaver's back. She made as if to sink her fangs into his ear. Pyre gave a warning growl and Hex scampered off. "Weaver, I know Hex is your sister, and I know you love her dearly, but you can't just give up like that."
"But Father, I didn't 'just give up.' Hex is strong! She had me down for the count!" Weaver protested.
Hex looked on as the two argued, Pyre telling his son to toughen up; Weaver telling his father he was tough, it was just that Hex was stronger. She sighed. 'Great,' she thought, 'Father and Weaver are at it again. I don't see why we have to play this game. Weaver just gets in trouble and Father never understands that he was trying.' The black she-kit looked off into the distance. A silvery tail was beckoning to her. She padded over to it.
(What are they talking about?) The spirit-cat asked. Hex knew him well. His name was Windwalker and he had been part of something called 'LakeClan.' He visited Hex often.
(Father insists that Weaver and I play this 'fighting game.' We have to 'attack' one another, and if I get to Weaver first, he gets scolded by Father,) Hex replied in the spirit's tongue.
(Doesn't Weaver fight back?) Windwalker asked.
Hex nodded rapidly. (Of course he does. But I'm heavier than I look, so he can't get out from under me.)
(Why do they make you play this 'game'? It seems a bit like apprentice training to me, but you're not even close to six moons yet.)
(I'm four moons old!) Hex mewed indignantly, (That's only two moons less!)
(Calm down, Hex, calm down,) Windwalker soothed, (Go back to your family. Your mother wants to talk to you.)
Hex looked over. Sure enough, Spark was flicking her tail at Hex. The black she-kit sighed softly and tapped Windwalker's misty, white pelt as she passed. Her tail, of course, passed right through him, but Windwalker knew what she meant. He evaporated in spirit fashion.
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Her parents had brought new "visitors." Hex knew what that meant. These were cats that her parents had something against and were going to kill. She sighed, climbing over a heap of human garbage to see them. It was an older cat and a younger one. The younger cat was a little older than she was, and was wearing an old fox pelt around his body. They were fighting with her parents.
"Stop," Hex commanded, coming down from her perch. The fighting immediately ceased. Pyre and Spark murmured their apologies, but Hex didn't hear them. She was mystified by the sight of a spirit-cat behind the smaller visitor, a bright red tom. Hex padded over to greet him.
He was a large cat with flame-red fur. He was faded like a spirit-cat, but his amber eyes were still glittering. He hadn't been a spirit for very long. His eyes still spoke of life. Hex nodded respectfully to him. The tom nodded.
(Hail, young one,) he meowed, (I am Foxpelt of DuskClan.)
(Were,) Hex corrected, (You were Foxpelt. I am Hex of the New Moon, Hex for short.) Foxpelt shrugged at her mention of his loss of life. Hex could tell he hadn't been ready to leave the living. (Were you killed in battle?) She asked.
(Worse,) Foxpelt grumbled, (By my own son. From behind. He drove a badger towards me.)
Hex nodded. She saw the way his gaze stayed almost permanently on the gray queen. She couldn't deny his sorrowful stare. (She was special to you...wasn't she?)
(Like a daughter. She is the only one who saw what happened. That is why she left. She knew no one would believe her, so she had to find more evidence. I tried to help her myself, but...) Foxpelt trailed off.
(But...?)
(I'm not the best with creating prophecies. I told her "When the river rises to meet the sun, those called foes will be avenged from their falling at the paws of the celestial.")
(I don't understand.)
(Just tell her that's what I said. I can't tell you any more. Riversong must figure it out herself.)
"When the river rises to meet the sun, those called foes will be avenged from their falling at the paws of the celestial," Hex mewed aloud, "But what else do you wish me to say, my lord?"
(Nothing. I told you, Riversong has to figure it out on her own.)
"I see. Very well," Hex murmured in cat language. Then, in spirit tongue, she added, (Will I see you again, Foxpelt?)
(You might. I like you Hex. You have very good knowledge of your gifts. Necromancy, speaking to the dead, is very difficult even for medicine cats, and they have a special connection with our warrior ancestors.)
Foxpelt's figure rippled, then evaporated like mist at dawn break. Hex took a deep breath, and turned to face the two visitors.