Promisepaw jolted awake at a twinge in her belly. She gazed with mingled love and fear at her flank. He stomach had swollen slightly over the last moon. Not enough to be noticed by any cat but herself, it seemed. She sighed and laid her head back down.
The group of cats was within a day's walk of their camp. So far, they had outdistanced the Pack, as the shouts of "Houndprint!" had long since faded away. The others were excited, infected with happy feelings of homecoming. Wavepaw and Shadowpaw had engaged themselves in a playful fight earlier that evening. Promisepaw had remained sullen and quiet in the corner.
Trickpaw...I miss him. He was so brave, so loyal, so true. He loved me...and I loved him. But returning to the life of a kittypet? Unthinkable! Now I'm alone, a pregnant queen with no father for the kits she shouldn't have in the first place! She sighed. I can't go on like this. Maybe if I'm lucky, the battle will end my life.
.-''-.-''-.-''-.
"I don't want to do this," Kenya mewed. "These kits are my kin! This isn't right! There must be some other way!" She turned to Brightstar. "Please," she begged softly. "Brightstar, don't make me do this. These kits are your kin as well! Can you stand by and let this happen?"
"I must," the yellow tom grunted. "It hurts me as well. She is my granddaughter. But she has broken our code, and for that, she must be punished."
Kenya shook her head, eyes wide with pain. "I can't. I can't," she squeaked in a tiny voice.
"Then I shall," a massive tomcat snarled, rising up from the ranks of StarClan. Kenya gave a shrill yowl of alarm and leapt down the Sightpool. The silver water parted and allowed the starry queen entrance to the living world.
Kenya dropped down neatly outside the small den where the cats slept. She padded inside, sniffing for that one particular scent. She detected it easily: Promisepaw. The astral tortoiseshell slipped over to the white cat's side. She peered within. Three kits—or what would be kits someday—lay nestled up within her belly. Kenya sighed. They were so precious. She could see down into their very futures.
Two toms and a she-kit. The toms would be identical: ginger with white tails. The she-kit, however, would be pure white, with a soft, sleek pelt. Her eyes would be mismatched, one amber, one pale blue. The toms would both grow to be lean like their father, while the female would be sturdy like her mother. The she-kit would have the best sight of them all. All of this was carefully planned and hidden in the kits' tiny bodies.
In case you didn't realize it, Kenya was looking at their DNA.
Kenya took a deep breath. "I must," she reminded herself, and reached in with a paw. She tapped the first tom-kit. Her heart gave an anguished jerk as his minute body withered and died. She tapped the second tom. He too was killed. When it came to the final kit, though, Kenya felt a tug on her tail. The Sightpool was starting to refill, and her portal to StarClan would soon close up. She whisked her paw over the she-kit and left, taking it for dead.
But the final kit was not killed. Her future was rewritten by that light brushing-over. Her fur color was changed to soot black, and became scruffy and rumpled. Her clear sight was to be clouded by blindness from birth. She would keep her strong body, but it would be crippled, with a kinked tail and a lame paw. This new persona acquired, the surviving kit curled into a tighter ball to develop and grow, preparing for birth when the time arrived.
.-''-.-''-.-''-.
Kenya shook her pelt all over, scattering water from the Sightpool. Brightstar gave her head a gentle lick, but she pulled away, flattening her ears angrily. "You monster!" she spat. "Killing innocent kits! Is this the StarClan forest cats worship?"
"Follow me, Kenya," Brightstar meowed. "Follow me, and I will show you all."
Kenya gave a low rumble of general disapproval and plodded after Brightstar. The two cats seated themselves beside the Sightpool. Brightstar lapped a small bit of the water up, and the future appeared.
"We called you back before the final kit was killed," he explained, while Kenya gazed in awe at the rippling images. "This kit has a destiny all her own. You see, while she will cause her mother much dismay, her role is an important one." Kenya gasped as the silver water started to turn red and the scent of blood wafted out of the pool. "We have not received a prophecy, but we expect one once she is born."
Kenya merely stared, mouth open in sheer amazement. Brightstar gave her a gentle lick, which she did not avoid this time. The huge tom who had threatened the kits before now padded up with the toms beside him. They were grown and everything their future had predicted for them. Kenya turned to face them.
"We will always be here," the first assured her.
"Even though you ended our lives, we feel no bitterness," his brother added.
"They will be called Whitetail and Whiteclaw," Brightstar meowed. The twin tomcats dipped their heads in assent. "Kenya, StarClan are not evil. The things we do may be considered evil by our living brethren, but they do not realize the future we have planned for them. Remember this." A glimmer of humor entered his eyes as he added, "Because you'll be with us for a very long time."
.-''-.-''-.-''-.
Promisepaw opened one eye. The kits had stopped jostling in her belly for once. But she was filled with sudden dread. They should still be bumping around. Something was wrong with her pregnancy, and Promisepaw didn't feel brave enough to tell anyone. She bit her lip and got to her paws. Shadowpaw and Sunpaw were stirring around her, while Wavepaw let out a loud, fake snore.
"We must hurry!" Starchild urged them. Promisepaw whirled around. The young fox was seated at the entrance of the cave, her mother's fur billowing around her. "The Pack is on the move, and I fear that they may overtake us!"
Her words caused all the young cats to bolt fearfully out of the den and over the frozen ground. Promisepaw found the rest falling behind her. They think I can lead them into battle, but I'm too cowardly to even admit my mistakes! she thought bitterly. She thought briefly of Trickpaw, his shimmering coat rising and falling as his muscles pushed and pulled under the fur. For a moment, she fancied he was running alongside her. A hard right to avoid a fallen tree scattered the image from her mind.
"Slow down, Promisepaw!" Wavepaw yowled. "We'll be worn out before we even get to camp!"
Promisepaw slowed her mad dash, but only just. The others dragged themselves up behind her. It was then that the white queen realized just how hard she had been pushing herself. Steam rose from her open mouth as she panted fiercely. Her heart hammered hard against her ribs. She stopped without warning, and a wail escaped her throat. Her heart was breaking. Trickpaw. She needed him now.
Starchild licked her gently. "Rest. I was wrong. The hounds have not yet moved. But I feel a great evil starting to stir the forest." She lifted her muzzle to the wind. "Many lives have been lost already, and many more are to be lost soon."
Promisepaw felt the words crash down on her ears like heavy thunder. She knew her Clanmates would die. She wanted to keep running, but a heaviness in her belly kept her down. She panted harder, feeling sick. How much longer can I keep this up?
.-''-.-''-.-''-.
"I think she's starting to wake up," Sunpaw mewed.
Promisepaw couldn't recall ever going to sleep. Warm darkness had been pressing around her, but now it was starting to fade. She reached out with a feeble paw to try and snag it, to bring it back around herself.
"Definitely," Wavepaw confirmed. "Promisepaw, if you can hear me, say something."
"Something," Promisepaw muttered bluntly, blinking open one eye. Wavepaw heaved a sigh of relief. "Wh-what happened?"
"You just passed out, out of nowhere!" Wavepaw meowed. "You scared all of us. Now, can you get up? How many paws am I standing on? What color is Sunpaw's fur? What Clan are you from? Where—yawp!" He broke off in a startled yowl. Promisepaw sat up, shaking her head dizzily. Shadowpaw braced her with a dark shoulder.
"Can you make it to camp?" she asked. "We're almost there."
"I'll...yeah." Promisepaw lurched forwards, supported by her friends on both sides. "Yeah. Just...time. Can...make it..."
.-''-.-''-.-''-.
What a shame. Poor Follower. The loss of his friend Leader, coupled with crushing responsibility, had caused him to eat killing berries. The rabbit in his cold paws bore the scent of not Blood Fang, but of Smallfurs. Seemed to be a gift, one that Follower used to visit Starsire in his cave. Oh well. No other wolf but Blood Fang wanted to lead the Pack.
The Pups of High Tail moved on, leaving behind Nameless Barker and No Tail. Along with Ocarina-Smallfur, the glorious leader, Blood Fang, led his Pack to victory.