Wriggling between bare branches, snow clinging to her pelt, Misty's ears pricked. She held still, listening to the slight scrabbling of a wood mouse at the base of a tree. Pinpointing her prey, she crouched and slowly stalked the little creature, keeping upwind so it did not notice death lurking just behind it.
With a swift pounce, kicking the ground hard with her hind legs, Misty landed on top of the mouse. Pinning it under her paw, she gave it a quick bite to the neck.
It was then that she realized she could spot WindClan's territory through the trees. It wasn't far from here that she had encountered her first clan cats. For a moment, she was caught by curiosity, abandoning her mouse to a dead thicket at the base of a tree. She crept forward.
Unlike the snow-covered moor or the pine forest Stormheart had led her through in her dream, this was a place of mighty oaks and towering maples. Gnarled branches reached up to the sky, gray and frost-bitten. She padded cautiously, scenting the air for fear she might get caught. She could smell cats, many of them, but their scent was stale. Maybe she could avoid them for now. Sootfur and Dawnfrost had warned her against this.
The air was quiet, save for a gentle and consistent breeze that came from behind her, carrying her scent off into the trees. Night would give her much grief in she ever found out, Misty thought. The black loner still highly disapproved of Misty's fascination with the clan cats.
But I have to do this, Misty insisted, recalling her strange dreams. I know this is what Stormheart wants. And I've also got to find my mother, she added solemnly.
She padded further until she could hear the distant rumble of water over rocks. That's when she spotted the vole, a small, starved creature, but food nonetheless. Maybe she could catch it for Night. The loner need never know where it came from.
Lowering herself onto her haunches, she slowly crept forward, careful to stay silent. At the last moment, she leaped.
Something like a boulder crashed into her side, sending her sprawling and winded. Confused, she tried to get up only for the weight to come on her again, squashing every last bit of air from her lungs. She gasped. Pain seared her fleshed from ice-sharp claws.
Letting out a desperate mew, she gazed up into the face of her attacker. It was a light tabby tom, a scar drawn across the side of his face. His yellow eyes gleamed menacingly as he lifted a paw to deliver the death blow.
Fear stunned Misty, leaving her unsure what to do, her heart pounding frantically in her chest. Her last thought would be that she shouldn't have listened to Stormheart. Perhaps she should have obeyed Night instead. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the excruciating pain. For the ripping of claws and then for all of oblivion.
But it never came.
The weight lifted off her and her attacker gave a yowl of surprise.
Scrambling to her feet, she expected to see Night there, chasing the other cat away. But no. No, this cat Misty had never seen in her life. He was larger than her, yet wiry, with smooth blue-gray fur. Though he seemed impressive in her eyes, the other cat was far bigger, with wide shoulders and rippling muscles.
Her rescuer raised a paw, claws unsheathed, but didn't strike. He just glared at the tabby whose eyes glittered with hatred.
"You aren't to kill to defend our territory, Thistletooth," the cat spat harshly. From the tense set of his shoulders, his bristling fur, Misty thought he was likely to sink his claws into the larger cat's fur.
"But Rainstorm, you are forgetting something," the one called Thistletooth replied. "I'm deputy and you, you don't even have an apprentice. With your experience, you might as well be a kit," he taunted. "A helpless, mewling kit!"
"It's against the Code to kill like this," Rainstorm growled. "You chase out intruders, not turn them into crow-food!"
"Well maybe it's time someone turned you into crow-food," Thistletooth snarled and, before Misty could quite realize what was happeniing, he lunged.
Without a sound, Rainstorm twisted to the side. It was enough to avoid most of the attack but not to miss the swipe of claws along his side. Turning in frustration, Thistletooth struck out and Rainstorm, ears flat, pounced on his back, nipping with thorn-sharp teeth. Misty watched in horror, unable to move, unable to breathe, as the two cats converged into one spitting ball of fury.
Thistletooth bared his teeth in a snarl and whipped around. He connected with Rainstorm's hind leg and there was a furious yowl as the latter was pulled off. He flew through the air, hitting the trunk of a tree with a sickening thud, and falling limply to the ground. Misty noticed fresh healing wounds on him that were opening up again.
Shaking his head, Rainstorm sat back up just in time to see Thistletooth's next attack. He rolled to the side and Thistletooth skidded to a halt a mouse-length from the sturdy oak. He turned just as Rainstorm raked his claws along his flank, drawing lines of bright red against the paleness of his coat.
His eyes alight with fury, Thistletooh rounded on the younger warrior, baring his teeth and lunging for the throat. Rainstorm fell back as the weight landed on him and he thrust his hind paws into his opponent's belly. The two of them rolled over and over on the ground, staining the snow with their mixed blood. Spitting, Rainstorm managed to get back to his feet, only to be pulled down again. Teeth sank into his shoulder and he screamed.
Confident in his victory, Thistletooth raised a paw to strike. But Rainstorm slashed fiercely and his opponent recoiled. In that instant, Rainstorm flipped him over onto his back, placing a paw on his throat.
Thistletooth froze. The two cats simply glared at each other, panting hard from their struggle.
"You don't need to kill to win battles," Rainstorm growled through gritted teeth and he stepped back, releasing his hold. Misty could tell his didn't really want to.
"You can never get away with what you've just done," Thistletooth hissed as he got to his feet. "Shadestar won't let you. He'll drive you out. Better yet, he'll kill you."
Rainstorm just stood rigid, his fur ruffled, blood dripping from the wound on his shoulder. He raised his head, wincing just a bit, and stared back defiantly. "So be it," he said coolly. "His reign will soon be at its end."
Obviously not believing a word of what Rainstorm had said and angry at his apparent lack of fear, Thistletooth backed away. "Traitor," he snarled, then vanished into the undergrowth.
As soon as Thistletooth had gone, Rainstorm's shoulders slumped in sudden exhaustion. He bowed his head and Misty saw the way he was holding his hind paw, as if it hurt badly.
"You should go now," he said in a quiet voice, without once looking up.
"I–I'm sorry," Misty stammered. "I didn't mean to cause you all this trouble."
"It's not your fault. Thistletooth knows it's against the Code to kill without good reason."
"You're hurt," Misty pointed out. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"No," Rainstorm replied. "Littlestep will take care of it."
Misty cocked her head but didn't ask any more questions, for once her playful curiosity deserting her. She was about to leave when she caught a familiar scent on the air, one which couldn't possibly be there. It was Stormheart!
And with the scent came his words. This is who you seek, the wind whispered. He will help you fulfill the prophecy. But first, you must learn to fight.
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
"My mentor taught me," was the simple reply.
A pause. Then, "Can you teach me?"
For the first time, the young warrior turned around to face her. "But you're a loner. You can never learn from a clan cat. We have our own places in this world. Mine is with my clan and yours," he stopped. "Yours is in that safe haven." With that, he leaped to his feet and left Misty sitting in the cold snow, utterly alone.