'How can I decide on what's right,
When you're clouding up my mind?'

'Decode' - Paramore

¢нαρтєя ѕєνєη: ωιℓℓσω ιη тнє мυ∂

"She's sick, isn't she?" his voice was hollow and tinged with ice.

Her tortoiseshell jerked up in surprise as she twisted her head to look at the large silhouette blocking the faint sunlight from entering her den. Sighing she looked back down at the sweaty, heaving, ginger flanks of a very sickly she-cat. Shifting her paws to the ginger she-cat's forehead she could feel the heat radiating from her.

"Yes, she's very sick. The whitecough has intensified considerably whilst we were at the gathering last night. It would not surprise me if it turns into greencough before nightfall," the medicine cat answered truthfully.

The tom squeezed his large shoulders into the den, glaring burning hatred at a gray tabby apprentice that was hunched over a pile of herbs at the back of the den. "Why didn't your apprentice do anything to help her during the night?" he demanded gruffly.

Soft green eyes belonging to the apprentice in question rounded on him with fear and sorrow reflecting deep within them. "What did you expect her to do, Willowclaw?" the medicine cat snapped frostily back. "There is only so much us medicine cats can do to help a sick cat. The rest is up to her now. Only she can decide whether she wants to continue fighting or allow herself to slip away."

Willowclaw's dark, murky amber eyes narrowed slightly. "Is there a way you can ease her suffering a little, Iana?"

"I've given her enough poppy seeds to make her sleep with as little pain as possible," Iana responded as she stretched, bones popping in her legs. She shuffled away from the ginger she-cat's sickly form to where her apprentice was scowling at a pile of yarrow. "To stop the really old ones from flaking when you pick them up try licking them instead of spearing them," she offered gently.

"Oh. That makes sense. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Hera."

Iana returned her concentration to the bulky tom whose attention was focused entirely on the sleeping she-cat, a soft sort of look appearing in his usually hard eyes. "There's nothing wrong with admitting you care for someone," she murmured to him, sitting down next to him.

The dark tabby rolled his shoulders back as he shuffled his paws uncomfortably. "The Clan would lose a valuable asset if she was to die."

"Really, Willowclaw? Is that all you think of Plummet? She's just a'valuable asset'? You might not notice it the way she looks at you but I do. Try not to break her heart like you have every other she-cat in the Clan. Heaven knows you need all the friends you can get," Iana scoffed before ushering the tom from her den. "Go and train your apprentice or something. Plummet can sleep in peace until you come back and bother her some more." She chuckled to herself and then vanished back into her den leaving Willowclaw standing outside the medicine den with a foul look on his face.

All he wanted was to know if Plummet was feeling better, not receive a lecture on breaking she-cats hearts. He scoffed as he padded over to the fresh kill pile and picked up a thin vole that smelt strongly of fresh water. It wasn't his fault all those stupid she-cat's had been practically falling over their own paws to just catch a glimpse of him. He'd made it perfectly clear that he didn't want a mate anytime soon but they just didn't get the message.

His grumblings came to a stop as he took a bit from his vole, enjoying the pleasant taste as it filled w hole in his stomach. Stupid him had forgotten to eat before going to the Gathering last night. His thoughts turned to the Gathering. Three cats had just vanished from their Clans without a trace, one of them having been exiled just after her disappearance. "How odd," he muttered to himself. "Cats might start thinking they're planning an uprising if anymore cats vanish with a trace."

"Talking to yourself again, Willowclaw?"

Willowclaw groaned inwardly as his adopted brother plonked down beside him with a delicious looking mouse settled between his black-spotted paws. "Am I not allowed to talk to myself?"

"No. It makes you look stupid and even lonelier than you really are."

"Did you come over here to talk to me or to insult me, Singe?" Willowclaw spat. His appetite vanished abruptly and he pawed his vole away, glowering at his adopted brother through slitted eyes the entire time.

Singe laughed. "I'd rather not insult you, brother. You tend to get rather nasty if someone starts insulting you. I sat down with you to eat my mouse, talk with my brother and just enjoy such a pleasant morning." He took a final bite of his mouse before rolling onto his back with his belly facing up to the sky. "And might I say, it is a very pleasant morning," he purred with a saucy wink.

Willowclaw followed his brother's gaze to where his mate – a pretty tortoiseshell – sat outside the nursery watching her small kit tumble around chasing a leaf. He rolled his eyes and then hissed in surprise when his brother clouted him sharply. "What was that for!?"

"Eyes of my mate," Singe warned.

"What? But you- Looked? Made that - rotten mouseheart," Willowclaw sputtered helplessly.

His struggle for words made Singe laugh loudly. "Oh you're too fun to mess with, brother. I actually had a message for you from Kynsia," the black-spotted tom's face turned serious suddenly; "she wants you to take Garra out for some hunting practice."

"Great, of all the things Kynsia wants me to teach today it just has to be hunting. Does she enjoy watching me struggle? She knows my hunting is lousy," the dark tabby grumbled. He spotted his gray-furred apprentice dabbing a paw at Singe's kit with a lopsided smile on his face.

"Aren't you eating the rest of your vole?" Singe called as Willowclaw got to his paws and started padding over to his apprentice.

"No!" he called back. You made me lose my appetite eating that delicious mouse in front of me while I only had that mangy vole. His face pulled into its usual scowl; a scowl that Garra jumped a little at when it appeared in front of him.

The only warrior apprentice recovered from his surprise to give his mentor a lopsided grin, one of his ears falling down to cover his eye. Willowclaw couldn't help but roll his eyes and huff. His apprentice had to be the dopiest one around. "Come on, Garra. Kynsia wants us to practice hunting today."

Garra arched an eyebrow whiskers twitching in amusement. "But aren't you a lousy hunter?"

"Respect your elders," Willowclaw snapped. "We're practicing hunting regardless of how much I detest it." Without another word, the bulky tom turned on his heel and loped out of RogueClan's camp into the thick – and boggy – forest, leaving Garra to scramble after him on shorter legs.

The forest was alive around the warrior. He took a deep breath, inhaling all the scents that were around him; mouse, squirrel, frog, bird, other RogueClan cats and the unique smell of wet bark that radiated from the bottom of most trees. His large paws sunk deep into the muddy trap that had been dug out around RogueClan' camp so many seasons ago, followed by his flank and then shoulders. The mud covered him almost instantly but he didn't care. He was the only warrior that could basically walk through the mud trap without it fazing him even a little. Plus it amused him to watch his short-legged apprentice leap awkwardly into a large carved out log that passed over the mud.

The gluggy ground beneath his paws turned firm and began to rise up in a small slope, leading away from the mud and into the thick pine forest. When he pulled his shoulders out of the sucking mud they dripped with the brown sludge, his fur plastered against his skin. "Wow," Garra remarked, "don't you just look charming?"

"It's good for your skin," Willowclaw defended as he shook himself violently, flinging clumps of mud from his body. Some clumps ended up splattering over Garra and the apprentice curled his lip in disgust as the sludgy liquid dribbled down his fur.

"Says who?"

Willowclaw smirked at his apprentice, "me."

Garra shook his head, following his mentor into the thick forest. The two fell into a comfortable silence as they concentrated on picking apart the different scents and sounds that surrounded them, disregarding the scents that weren't prey. "Hunters crouch. Now," Willowclaw suddenly demanded.

"Right," the gray-furred apprentice grunted and fell into a hunting crouch. He pinned his ears back against his skull, kept his tail up off the ground, made sure his weight was spread evenly and then inhaled a deep breath. A flash of excitement rushed through him. The unmistakable scent of squirrel was strong in the air. "Where is it?" he whispered to his dark tabby mentor.

"Figure it out for yourself. You need to be able to pinpoint your prey's position without the help of other cats. Someday you might find yourself alone without the help of others," Willowclaw growled. He too had sunk into a hunting crouch but it looked like the big tom was struggling to evenly spread out his large weight. "Your crouch is very good, Garra, but remember to keep your tail still when you stalk. If it brushes against anything your prey will be alerted to your presence."

Garra nodded and set about locating the squirrel. The scent was stronger to the left of him where a clump of scraggly bushes hid the base of a tree from view. He focused his hearing on that particular spot, grinning when he heard the sound of tiny paws tapping against either nuts or the base of the tree. "Got it. By the base of that tree behind those bushes," he whispered excitedly.

Willowclaw flashed his apprentice one of his very rare smiles. "Good. Now catch it."

Gray paws gently touched the ground as Garra stalked carefully and silently as close to the bushes as he dared. When the leaves from one the scraggly bushes touched his nose he paused, one leg raised partway in the air, and scented the air. The squirrel was still there but now he could just see it through the holes in the scraggly bush. It was scraping in the dirt at the base of the tree probably burying or digging something out. Its back was unfortunately facing Garra and the gray apprentice smiled. The squirrel wouldn't see him coming.

"If he jumps over the bush his reactions better be quick enough to swipe at the squirrel or it'll escape straight up that tree," Willowclaw murmured thoughtfully to himself as he watched his apprentice through slitted eyes. He was pleased with Garra's form. The tom was a rather good hunter and had learned how to keep his weight spread evenly quickly, something that had taken Willowclaw moons to even get slightly right. He still didn't have it down-pat.

He watched with baited breath as Garra tensed his muscles, scented the air one last time and then leaped over the bush with a powerful push off his back legs. The squirrel found itself pinned under a set of strong paws before it could really register what had happened. A swift bite to the neck and it went limp, Garra proudly waving his tail at Willowclaw as he picked the squirrel up in his jaws and jumped back over the scraggly bushes.

"Well done. Your hunting crouch was even, your stalking was near silent and you judged the distance you needed to leap over those bushes correctly," Willowclaw congratulated stiffly. "But that jump over the bushes was risky. Had you not judged the distance correctly the squirrely might've had the chance to scoot up that tree and vanish."

Garra's happy expression fell slightly. "Can't you just be happy with something I've done for once?"

"Me? Happy? You might have me confused with another cat. I wasn't made your mentor to smother you with congratulations and happy words when you do something wrong," Willowclaw sneered.

"No wonder no one in the Clan likes you!" Garra shouted angrily, throwing the squirrel down at his mentor's paws. "All you ever do is complain, whinge, growl and snap at anyone that tries to say even two words to you! I'm surprised Plummet can stand to spend any time around you." The apprentice curled his lip at Willowclaw and then stomped off into the forest.

Willowclaw snorted as he dug a small hole and buried the squirrel to pick up later. His apprentice could be so touchy at times. Besides, Garra had been out of line when he'd brought Plummet into the argument. The she-cat was one of the only cats Willowclaw could have a decent conversation with. She didn't expect him to be nice or laugh at all her jokes or make her feel like the most important cat in the world. She just expected him to him be and was okay with it.

His mood darkened considerably. But now she was lying in the medicine den with whitecough, her usually bright yellow eyes dulled by the sickness. Iana needed to get over herself and find the herbs she needed to make Plummet better, but apparently they weren't in season at the current time and she didn't have any stored away.

"Stupid medicine cats," Willowclaw muttered as he slunk away in the direction his apprentice had vanished, "thinking they're above everyone else just because they can mix a few herbs together and heal some cats wound. They're not much good if they can't heal a darn cough!" He continued his rant quietly as his paws scuffed over the leaf covered ground.

A hard body suddenly collided with his flank nearly knocking him over. "What the heck?" he cursed as he regained his balance and looked down at his apprentice. "What was that for!? Did I really insult you so much with my improvement tips that you found it necessary to barge into me?"

"Shut-up!" Garra snarled. Willowclaw narrowed his eyes and fought against the temptation to cuff his apprentice over the head for speaking to him so rudely. "There are a bunch of strange cats in our territory!"

Oh. That might be why he ran into me, Willowclaw guessed. His mood perked up. Tearing the fur from a few of Crimson's soldiers would be a wonderful way to express his anger. "I wonder why Crimson's soldiers are entering our territory. Didn't they have enough fun last time?" He was about to take a step forward when Garra bit his tail and pulled him back. "Seriously, Garra, what is it this time!?"

"They aren't Crimson's soldiers! Or at least four of them aren't. The fifth…I recognise her," the gray apprentice shuddered a little.

Willowclaw wrinkled his nose, "who's the fifth cat?"

Garra looked up at his mentor with worried forest green eyes. "It's Tornheart."

"Where are they?" Willowclaw demanded with a hiss.

He followed his apprentice's pointing tail with his eyes, imagining Tornheart the Betrayer leading cats towards his camp with a malicious grin on her face. Oh how he hated that conniving, betraying, cowardly she-cat. "Go back to camp and tell Kynsia to send a patrol. I'll deal with the trespassers."

The warrior didn't want to hear his apprentice's protests, dashing off in the direction that Garra had pointed with his eyes narrowed in determination. The Clans would thank him later tonight when he stood up and told Crimson that he'd torn her right-paw cat apart.

His ears picked up distant chatter and he slowed his run to that of a quieter, slower lope through the territory he'd grown so accustom to. The voices of the trespassers reached his ears and he listened in on their conversation as he loped closer to them.

"How are you even sure it's a tom?"

"I just do!"

"How? Is it your magic?"

Magic? Crimson must be enlisting insane cats now, Willowclaw thought with a sneer.

"No, I don't think it's my magic. I just know that it's a tom and I'll know who it is the minute I see him."

"That's strange, Tornheart. Is that how you knew it was me when you came across Lightningfall and I during our patrol?"

"Indeed it was, Icepetal. It's also how I knew it was Eaglestrike when he fell on top of Rainpatch."

"I didn't fall! I jumped down from the tree and landed on top of him!"

"Sure you did."

Willowclaw found his curiosity heightening as he heard the names of two of the missing cats, including that of the exiled she-cat. Perhaps they'd gone and joined Crimson's army as living warriors compared to that of a brainwashed one. It was too late for him to stop and ask questions; he was running too fast to stop.

"Hey, do you guys hear that?"

It was also too late for the trespasser to do anything but watch in surprise as Willowclaw exploded from the undergrowth with a roaring battle cry vibrating in his throat and crash into Tornheart's flank sending both of them tumbling into a shallow pool of mud. "You!" Willowclaw screeched as he stood up from the mud, swiping at Tornheart's face as the she-cat struggled to find her footing amongst all the mud. "How dare you enter RogueClan territory!"

His swipes met their mark, ripping into the flesh on Tornheart's cheek. The black-furred she-cat howled in a mixture of pain and anger as she struggled helplessly in the mud. Before Willowclaw could deal anymore blows he found his head pushed under the mud. Cold fear skittered up his spine as his lungs rapidly emptied of air. They were going to drown him! Cowards!

But before he was forced to inhale the mud his head was yanked free and sweet air was allowed to surge back into his empty lungs. His look of relief turned into a scowl as he kicked the weight off of him, whirling around to meet a stunned pair of stormy blue eyes. "How could a Clan cat ever protect Tornheart!? You are a disgrace to yo-" he was interrupted by a pretty white she-cat with a brown face.

"Oh shut it, tabby. We're not here to attack your Clan or drag you screaming like a she-cat back to Crimson's army," the she-cat snapped coldly. "So can you please let my friends go so that they can explain why we're here? I'd like to get out of this rancid forest."

"Told you she'd be grumpy," Tornheart jested hoarsely. She'd managed to get out of the shallow pool of mud with some help from a small pale orange she-cat that stunk of CedarClan.

The others chuckled as Icepetal scowled nastily.

"Explain what? I'm not waiting around to hear any of you explain anything because I'm not stupid nor is my head full of mud. I know what you're trying to do by keeping me here whilst your army sneaks their way to RogueClan's camp," Willowclaw snarled viciously.

"Didn't Icepetal just explain to you that we are not here to attack your camp?" Tornheart retorted smoothly.

"And why should I believe you?" Willowclaw shot back, "I'm pretty sure I was taught by my parents as a kit to not believe what strangers say!"

Tornheart choked out a shrill laugh, eyes glinting darkly. "Your parents never taught you anything as a kit! They abandoned you, remember?"

A pain similar to that of a thorn being driven through his paw pierced his heart at the words that had slipped from between Tornheart's lips. Two thoughts crossed his mind at once. How dare she use that against me! How'd she know my parents abandoned me…? He felt anger heating up his blood as he glared down at the smaller she-cat. She glared back up at him with equal hate in her eyes.

"At least I didn't kill mine!" he roared back.

Tornheart jerked back like she'd been struck, "you think you've seen all the darkness in the world just because your parents abandoned you one cold night? You have no idea what real darkness is until it has caught you in its cold grasp. I don't know why such a shallow tom such as yourself was chosen to be part of a mission so important at this." There was disgust written all over Tornheart's face as she stalked around Willowclaw in a tightening circle. Both raised a clawed paw at the same time prepared to strike down and start yet another battle,

A sharp cry from Icepetal froze them in their places. "Enough with this useless arguing! We don't have enough time for you two to scream your sob stories at each other," she sneered icily. "Tornheart is he the one?" When Tornheart nodded Icepetal continued, "wonderful. You, tom with the massive shoulders, how would you like to help us kill Crimson?"

Willowclaw nearly laughed out loud. He had a hunch that those missing cats had been planning an uprising and he'd been right! And his Clanmates called him thick-headed. "Why would you think I'd want to join your…odd…group to make it only halfway out of this valley before being slaughtered as an example to the rest of the Clans? Hardly sounds appealing to me."

"A bit arrogant isn't he?" a blue and white-patched tom observed.

"A bit is an understatement," replied a reddish brown coloured tom, "you can practically smell the arrogance coming off him."

The 'arrogant' tom spat at them with angry eyes. "Can you blame me for not wanting to take part in a mission that's bound to be doomed from the start?"

"Our mission isn't doomed from the start," spoke up the small pale orange she-cat that was peering out at him from behind the reddish tom. "Tornheart h-h-had a prophecy and it sa-said that we've been chosen. We stand more of a c-chance."

Willowclaw scoffed, "we stand more of a c-chance," he mimicked her stutter and she scrunched closed her eyes. The reddish tom murmured a few words in her ear, "because a traitor supposedly had a prophecy? Who the heck did the prophecy come from? The afterlife was destroyed, all of it. There's no dead cats left to make up stupid prophecies anymore."

"There were four dead cats left that gave me the prophecy that led me to you, Willowclaw of RogueClan, although they left out the bit about you being an arrogant foxheart," Tornheart growled through clenched teeth.

"And who were these four dead cats?" Willowclaw queried with a bored tone.

"The Guardians: Fate, Time, Change and Destiny."

The dark tabby tom chuckled, whiskers twitching amusedly, "you've let yourself believe stilly little fairy tales told to kits by their mothers."

He didn't miss the look of pure rage flit across Tornheart's eyes as she curled her lip, narrowed her eyes and dug her claws into the soft ground. "What would Plummet think if she was to find out that you doomed the Clans because you were, yet again, thinking of only yourself?"

Willowclaw watched in stunned silence as Tornheart's form rippled like she was made of water and began to change. Her midnight black fur lightened in colour until it was ginger and her vivid green eyes bled out their colour, changing to a bright yellow. Tornheart no longer stood before him; Plummet did.

"You can't trick me with pretty illusions, trickster," he snarled hoarsely.

How could he explain to the trespassers that the cat Tornheart had morphed into was the only friend he'd ever really had? That she had stuck around him when no one else had? That she was his best friend?

"Would you like me to show you what the world will look like if you don't realise that you have been made part of this journey?" Tornheart hissed.

The world before Willowclaw's eyes dissolved rapidly, the colours melding with each other as they vanished. It went momentarily pitch black before the darkness was tainted by a familiar red light; the red light that came from the moon. Frantically he swept his head from left to right expecting to see the trespassers watching him with their stony gazes. But they were not there. Not even Tornheart was there.

Curiously he glanced up to see the red moon winking at him through the empty branches of a willow tree. No leaves? But I've never seen a willow tree lose its leaves during leaf bare…His eyes glanced down to the world beneath the trees. All around him everything was either dead or dying. The mud beneath his paws was dry. He couldn't hear the sounds of prey dashing about. It was chillingly silent, so silent that it left a ringing sensation in his hears.

"There is only so much darkness the world can handle," he heard Tornheart say, twisting his head to find her standing next to him looking out at the dark, dead forest with mournful eyes.

"Are you showing me the future?"

She nodded. "The future the world will meet if Crimson is not defeated; if the sun is not brought back."

Willowclaw's brows furrowed, "but the sun hasn't gone missing?"

"It will," was her hoarse reply. "Have you not noticed it rising a little less with each passing day? It only rose just above the mountains that ring this valley this morning."

A sudden horrifying thought crossed the tom's mind as he glanced around at his dark, dead, uninhabitable territory. "Does Crimson still live?"

"Barely. She frailly clutches onto her life as it slips through her paws. Crimson will always die, regardless of her winning the battle against the Chosen."

"Her army?"

Tornheart shook her head with a satisfied grunt. "The ones that didn't flee when Crimson's rage at Frozengaze's departure reached a boiling point simply died out."

"The Clans?" he mewed feebly.

Her green eyes filled with unmeasurable pain and loss. "Dead. Lost. Destroyed. The constant wars between Crimson's army and them began to take their toll. When the prey stopped running so did they. The last remaining Clan cat that died," she paused, scrunching her eyes closed, "was me."

The sudden weight of being responsible for the deaths of so many – for the destruction of an entire world – struck Willowclaw like a blow to the stomach and left him gasping for breath. Everyone he had known – Iana, Hera, Singe, Garra, Plummet – they were all dead, all because he hadn't been able to look past his own muzzle. "I-I didn't mean for this to happen! Please, Tornheart, can this stop? Can the future be changed so that nobody will die!? Please tell me it can!"

He looked into Tornheart's eyes and watched as the vibrant green colour began to bleed from them, mingling with the bleeding colour of the moon and the darkness that surrounded them. The world spun around him, making him dizzy, forcing him to his knees. He scrunched his eyes closed and prayed; prayed desperately for a chance to change this terrifying, hideous future.

"This is what the future will look like if the sun is not caught before it has sunk for too long. The world can only take so much darkness before it collapses in on itself to begin rewriting the laws of nature in the rare hope that something will live on to create a new world in the darkness," Tornheart's voice boomed into his ears.

His eyes snapped open to find himself on his knees in the thick mud, panting heavily and uncontrollably. Sweat dripped from his brows, gathering on the ends of his whiskers before falling to the mud.

"What did you show him?" one of the trespassers asked quietly.

Willowclaw looked up at Tornheart without moving his head. She was shaking just as much as he was, the nightmare of a world in darkness still haunting her eyes. "The end," the black-furred she-cat whispered.

A shrill battle cry rang out from the forest around them as dozens of cats surrounded them from the shadows, using a similar technique as Willowclaw had used; leaping from the long grass to tackle the trespassers onto the ground.

Writhing and shrieking the trespassers fought back with slashing claws that drew blood. The fighting only served to anger the RogueClan warriors that fought back with twice as much intensity. A loud howl brought the fighting to a stop as one of the warriors, who Willowclaw recognised to be Kynsia, pressed the small pale orange Cedarclanner to the ground, claws digging into the she-cat's throat.

"Littleflame!" the reddish tom cried before he found his muzzle pressed into the mud.

Kynsia regarded the pinned trespassers with a cold, calculating gaze until her eyes fell upon the spitting form of Tornheart. Anger mixed with bloodlust flitted across her face. "You are all trespassing on RogueClan land without a valid reason. I can also see that my warrior has been injured. For these reasons you will be coming back to RogueClan camp to be imprisoned for as long as I see fit, which for some of you," her gaze once again lingered on Tornheart, "will be a very long time."

Soft fur brushed against Willowclaw's flank making him flinch in surprise. Glancing down he looked into Garra's keen - but guarded – gaze. "Did I warn the Clan quick enough?" the gray apprentice mumbled whilst indicating to the few wounds Willowclaw had obtained.

"Of course you did," Willowclaw rumbled. He pressed his nose to the top of Garra's head in a rare show of slight affection.

The apprentice shuffled awkwardly before he too spotted Tornheart being jostled in between four warriors. "What's Kynsia going to do with her?"

"No idea. Probably something stupid," he replied with a wry smile.

But behind his wry smile Willowclaw was teetering on the edge. He glanced over at Tornheart and could see a silent plea in her eyes. "Don't give us away."

What had he done?

He'd let the Clans only hope get captured.

Suddenly the dark shadows lurking in the corners of his eyes seemed so much more malevolent.

RogueClan

Leader: Shiver- Icy silver tom with a long scar running across his back. Amber eyes.

Deputy: Kynsia- Dusty brown she-cat with lighter streaks. Yellow eyes.

Medicine Cat: Iana- Sleek tortoiseshell she-cat with a black tail tip. Green eyes.

Warriors:

Feather- Light brown lynx point she-cat. Dark amber eyes.

Twist- Scruffy fawn tabby she-cat with white dapples. Pale blue eyes.

Kite- Gray tabby tom. Yellow eyes.

Flower- Tortoiseshell she-cat with a black patch over both eyes. Green eyes.

Singe- Red tom with black spots that look like burn marks, named in remembrance of the previous leader, Singe. Amber eyes.

Blood- Dark red tom with a white splash on his chest. Icy blue eyes.

Frost- A huge pure white tom with amber eyes (GlimmerIcewood)

Scratch- Large ginger tabby tom with a white chest, long claws and blue eyes (Joyful Call of Soaring Wren)

Plummet- A ginger she-cat with yellow eyes

Apprentices:

Garra- Gray tom with unkempt fur. Forest green eyes.

Hera- Sleek light gray tabby she-cat with a thick plumy tail. Soft green eyes.

Queens:

Evelena- Light brown tabby she-cat with darker stripes around her ankles, green eyes

Rose- Tortoiseshell she-cat with pale yellow-green eyes. Fluffy and has rounded ears. Pale gray chest fur and long legs. Oddly large ears.

Flight- Brown she-cat with silver tabby stripes and green eyes (Joyful Call of Soaring Wren)

Kits:

Shine- Pale silver she-cat with bright yellow eyes, has yet to be born.

Apollo- Dark silver tabby she-cat with a white underbelly and black paws. Icy blue eyes.

Ferran- Long-furred brown tabby tom. Green eyes.

Midnight- Pale blue tom with black marbled tabby markings. Amber eyes.

Jay- Icy silver tabby tom. Dark amber eyes.

Silver- Silver tabby she-cat with blue eyes (Joyful Call of Soaring Wren)

Dawn- Silver she-cat with a ginger underbelly and paws, green eyes (Joyful Call of Soaring Wren)

River- Gray tabby tom with a white underbelly and green eyes (Joyful Call of Soaring Wren)

Elders:

Red- A small, very dark ginger she-cat with pale amber eyes and white paws. Her nose is a dark brown, and she has a white tail tip. She has a broken leg that never healed right, causing her to retire early. (Heron That Takes Flight)

AN: And we have met the fifth and final Chosen. I don't normally mention this...but is there a reason most of my faithful reviewers have vanished? I miss all you guys :(

-нυηтєя