AN: Well, someone finally reviewed some cats! :D
Pen-name: BlackFlower MistyClan
Chosen Cats:
MistClan:
Mistwhisker (Edited version of Mistywhisker)
Fogpaw (Edited version of Fogcloud)
Greysmoke
DuneClan:
Hotpelt
Dunestar (Edited version of Dune-eye)
That's all, folks!
Oh, and please review. ^w^
This chapter will take roughly 70 moons before the present time of the story – and trust me, it's not filler – just to show you how important this story's arc is.
Rapidstar
Pale Ginger Tabby
MistClan leader
67 Moons
(Many Moons Before the Present)
It was an incredibly foggy night in the marshlands. This was the norm there, as the marsh was almost always incredibly humid, creating loads of fog and mist to be used in the environment. Within these "foglands," sat DuneClan's neighbor, MistClan.
"Very good, Mistwhisker," mewed Rapidstar to the aforementioned Warrior. Mistwhisker, a black and white she-cat, dipped her head in acknowledgement, dropping her share of the fresh-kill on the pile. It was starting to reach the height of two tail-lengths, much to the Clan's pleasure.
"This should be enough to last us through most of leaf-bare," nodded Shellstep, a senior warrior tabby tom. "Indeed, it might," Rapidstar half-heartedly agreed, his whiskers twitching in thought.
MistClan was incredibly successful, as the nearly permanent coat of mist that had been bestowed upon their land meant that they had learnt to use their scents of smell primarily for hunting, as you could not see more than three tail-lengths in front of you.
Because, of the Clan's adaptations, they could hunt fairly efficiently since their prey had not changed to the same extent as the Clan cats had.
A sudden gust of the breeze alerted the leader of MistClan that leaf-fall was coming to an end, and that pretty soon, the Clan cats would be struggling to find any sort of nutritional support. Leaf-bares were always hard, and since MistClan's location was in a marsh, there was very little cover from the northern winds that befall the land.
"Rapidstar, you seem chilled to the bones. Might I suggest going into the community den?" asked Shellstep, pulling the wise, old leader out of his thoughts. The community den was a cavern that MistClan had turned into a place of socialization. And warmth during leaf-bare.
"Yes, that would be best," nodded Rapidstar, turning around and padding towards his desired location with Shellstep on his flank. Once they arrived, the old leader caught sight of the Clan's deputy, Branchspot.
"Why don't you park your old and tired bones right here!" mewed the deputy jokingly, patting the spot next to him, effectively inviting both Rapidstar and Shellstep towards a firehole.
Fireholes were when Clan cats dug pits into the ground and put burning materials into it, creating a flame, then a fire, so they could stay warm.
Rapidstar accept the invitation, sitting himself next to the young deputy. "Leaf-bare will be hard, these next moons," meowed Rapidstar, "there's no doubting it."
"I certainly don't," Shellstep told Rapidstar. "If we continue this manner of hunting, though, we may have enough food to last us through leaf-bare – if properly handled," pointed out Branchspot optimistically.
The fire's reflection danced in Branchspot's eyes and played off his fur, giving him a wild yet ethereal look. "Our prey is becoming craftier, and the times that our warriors are catching things are starting to become few and far in between," responded Rapidstar shrewdly, sighing sadly.
"We could line our collectively gathered fresh-kill in snow to keep it from becoming crow-food," suggest Shellstep. "You think we have not tried that?" snapped Rapidstar unexpectedly, "I apologize. I am put under a large amount of stress at the moment. What I meant is that our problem is not with our gathered fresh-kill spoiling, but it running out before leaf-bare ends. Prey is scarce these moons, leaving us with hungry kits and empty bellies."
Shellstep and Branchspot, who had been caught off guard with the weathered leader's sudden comeback, understood completely. It could not be easy being MistClan leader during these moons. "It'd be useless to try to fix a problem that never existed in the first place," finished Rapidstar, flicking his tail as non-verbal punctuation.
"I see…" Branchspot trailed off, lost in thought, "we cannot do much now that prey is retreating to its hiding spots for leaf-bare. So, now, all we can do is pray that MistClan survives."
0-0-0
"The sun is gone!" cried one kit. Much to Rapidstar's despair, what the young kit had said was true. In the sky, what should've been a crisp and clear leaf-bare morning, the sky was thick with black smog. It reeked of notails.
The fear-scent of many cats could be smelled by Rapidstar. For once, he understood the term fear. This was not a problem that he could simply claw away or beat to the death. This was something that was out of his control, something he had no defense against.
This was what he truly feared. Something slipping through his paws and no longer in his control. "StarClan, please let this be a dream," he breathed, stunned by the sight that sat in the sky.
Branchspot raced up to him, his fear-scent heavy and clinging to his pelt. "Rapidstar, what do we do?!" half-asked, half-exclaimed Branchspot. Rapidstar had gathered his wits, and slid into defense mode, "First of all, get all kits and queens inside the nursery. Have all the Warriors and apprentices cover the fresh-kill pile with as much snow as possible – we cannot risk losing the only nutritional support we have left, then tell them to head into their dens."
"Yes, Rapidstar," mewed Branchspot, becoming calmer now that the leader of MistClan had issued commands and knew what to do.
StarClan, are we meant to survive through this without incident, or to die from this black veil? he thought sadly, seeing Branchspot relaying his orders and all the Warriors & apprentices piling snow on top of the pit that had been lined with snow.
Finally, all the cats had managed to pile a couple of tail-lengths worth of snow on top of the fresh-kill pit, insuring the food's safety. They immediately all retreated back to their dens, save for a few determined MistClan Warriors. Shellstep and Branchspot were among them.
Suddenly, it started to snow. But not regular snow – the crystals were pure black – dark as night.
"What is this supposed to mean?" mewed Shellstep desperately to their Medicine Cat, Flowerpond. "I… don't know," she admitted. Her panic had seemed to subside for the second she answered, her head hanging in shame.
"It does not matter now," Rapidstar felt a mix of fear, panic, and worry. He did not care for his well-being, as long as the clan lived on.
The already thick-layer of snow that had coated the marshlands started becoming pure black, resembling ashen soot more than frigid, white snow. It was worrisome, to say the least.
Rapidstar could not think of anything to combat this, "May StarClan save us."
