Chapter Three: Whispers and Dreams
Snowpaw opened her eyes to a haze. As small as a newborn kit, her eyes were blurry and unfocused. Snowpaw could barely tell she was in the clearing of ThunderClan's hollow; however, the warm smells of the hollow relaxed Snowpaw. She knew where she was by the scent and sounds of her classmates around her.
A small movement to the left brought her attention to a black rock that had shifted against her. Snowpaw narrowed her eyes trying to make out the shape when another black rock moved against her other side. They were warm and familiar. She looked at these strange things for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly they were before suddenly lightning struck in front of her.
Terrified wails rose all around her as lightning flashed again and again, dancing in front of her as thunderous caterwauls roared with each strike. Snowpaw began to wail too. She was scared and didn't know why. Suddenly, the lightning struck next to her on the black rock, shattering it to pieces, then the other moving rock. Snowpaw watched, her fuffy newborn fur on ends as the lightning came down to strike her to pieces.
Raising to her paws, claws unsheathed Snowpaw turned snarling in the apprentice's den. Slatepaw, who sat perched in her nest, had been watching Snowpaw in the night with her wide blazing blue eyes. "You were dreaming," Slatepaw whispered gently. "It was a bad dream. You are awake now."
Slatepaw rose from her crouched position as her words soothed Snowpaw's fur. Shyly, Snowpaw sheathed her claws and asked, "Did I wake you?"
"No," Slatepaw responded as through she was expecting her to ask. "What were you dreaming about?"
"Why are you awake?" Snowpaw countered, suspicious of Slatepaw along with curiosity tugging her.
Slatepaw's eyes betrayed a flash of fear before narrowing warily at Snowpaw. She suddenly felt shameful for asking her things that were none of her business but realized Slatepaw had asked first. Maybe Slatepaw was thinking the same thing. They stared at each other, blue eyes against green in the darkness for several seconds. Finally, Slatepaw blinked, ending the silent challenge, then sat down and wrapped her thick tail neatly around her side before answering, "I hear voices calling me at night when I sleep." Snowpaw bristled. "They aren't calling to me exactly, but to a cat who understands them and I fear, because I hear them, they are calling for me."
"What are they?" Snowpaw breathed out the question, terror from her dream forgotten.
"I'm not sure. I'm not even sure if they are real. It calms my pelt to walk around the hollow and ensure the dirtplace entrance is still blocked off and that a warrior is on watch. Sometimes, if they look sleepy I scare them and run into the warriors den before they see who it is."
She raised her black and gray-striped head proudly at her mischief. Snowpaw remembered unjustly getting in trouble for sneaking out of her nest as a kit to scare warriors as she bit back a sharp remark. As calm and proud as Slatepaw appeared all the time, Snowpaw could now tell she was also scared.
"Featherwhisker says it's a gift and not to tell anybody. The medicine cats are the only other ones who know so keep it a secret and I'll return the favor," she whispered.
Before Snowpaw could ask her another question, the challenge burned in Slatepaw's eyes again, silencing her. "What were you dreaming about? I watched you turn and wail softly in your nest without waking you so that you could see the whole dream. You almost woke up Perchpaw, but Droppaw snored louder than your fidgeting."
Snowpaw fluffed her pelt again, wary to share dreams with a she-cat who claimed to hear voices calling to her outside the hollow. Slatepaw told Snowpaw the truth though, from what she could tell at least; therefore, Slatepaw expected the satisfied curiosity she had given Snowpaw to be returned. Snowpaw blinked and mimicked Slatepaw as she sat to tell her dream story.
When she was finished, Slatepaw seemed disappointed, "Have you ever had that dream before?"
"No."
"Then I wouldn't worry unless it becomes reoccurring," she waved her tail dismissively. "We all have bad dreams sometimes."
"But we all don't hear voices," Snowpaw countered.
Slatepaw's ears flattened, "Don't tell."
"I won't," Snowpaw promised. Snowpaw suddenly realized that Slatepaw might have been hoping that she was hearing the voices too. "Why haven't you told anyone else though?"
The flash of fear crossed her blue eyes, the same blue eyes that Bigheart has told stories upon stories behind. Snowpaw almost gasped. Slatepaw is related to Bigheart! She realized that Meadowfoot never had a tom come and visit the kits besides curious warriors. Could Bigheart and Meadowfoot..? No, that would be ridiculous. Bigheart was much older than Meadowfoot and was in the Elder's den moons before she kitted. Moonpelt never picked a mate.
Slatepaw stood to her paws and whispered, "Any visions that come from me will only scare the Clan, given who my father is." In a silent bound, she left Snowpaw with a realization that left her fur on ends.
Sootheart, Bigheart's son known as the exiled warrior of ThunderClan, was the father of Slatepaw and Droppaw.
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