A/N: Another chapter! The climax is coming up... And the mysterious killer will be revealed.
Chapter 7
"Do you know what it means?" asked Tornear, leaning forward, his eyes wide.
"No," Ashfoot replied, "but we can guess." She looked around at her senior Clanmates, each one with troubled and confused faces.
"Well," started Gorsetail, his tail-tip twitching, "Do not run into the shadows must mean ShadowClan. What else could it mean?"
"Yes," Whitetail nodded, her tail curled around her paws, "ShadowClan is probably up to something. They usually are. But what are flashes of light? Could it be ThunderClan?"
Tornear nodded vigorously. "Yes. Both ShadowClan and ThunderClan need to be avoided. Watery forces could mean RiverClan, because they practically live in the water, and 'all will be bright' would mean that if we follow the instructions, the future will be—"
"Wait a minute! You're forgetting something!" Kestrelflight stared at Tornear, who looked surprised at being interrupted. "This threat that's killing the Clan leaders, I'm pretty sure has something to do with Ashfoot's ceremony!" He took a deep breath, and continued. "If it has already targeted cats from two Clans, it's likely to get all the rest! The Clans need to work together!"
"Yes," Ashfoot agreed, standing up. "Kestrelflight is right. The other Clans are not to blame. The prophecy must have some other meaning."
Tornear opened his mouth to protest, but Ashfoot silenced him with an ear-flick. "This meeting is adjourned. For now, the senior warriors and I will share the deputy's duties, until this problem is solved."
The cats got up to their paws, and padded out of Ashfoot's den. As the others organized patrols amongst themselves, Tornear headed out of camp.
"I know I'm right," he hissed to himself as he ran into the wind. "This has nothing to do with the black flash that killed the leaders. This is only about Ashfoot's ceremony. Why won't the others listen? I know I'm right. I'll prove it to them, somehow."
Anger and frustration fueling him, he started to run harder and harder. There was no destination in his mind, only the need to get away. Tornear wanted some time alone; he needed to think. Thoughts clouded around him like fog, until he couldn't see anymore. He just felt his paws pounding on the ground, leading him farther and farther from the camp.
Blindly wandering around WindClan's territory, he soon found himself standing at the edge of ThunderCLan's territory. The bare, open hills were replaced by the trees and shrubs that the ThunderClan cats, known for their ways in the dense underbrush, hunted in. The Moonpool's sparkling stream separated the two territories, flowing away freely.
Something caught his eye. A large, gray squirrel was at the base of a tree, scuffling for nuts. It was perilously close to the ThunderClan border, but it still was WindClan territory.
Why not? Tornear thought, fixing his gaze on the squirrel. It's not a rabbit, but it'll do. Might as well hunt while I'm out here. Besides, ThunderClan's to be avoided. One less squirrel will make them weaker, and WindClan stronger.
Soon he had caught the squirrel. It had fled right to the border, over the stream, and his paw prints were etched on the borderline. Tornear scuffed some fallen leaves to cover the prints, and then headed back to camp, the limp squirrel held firmly in his jaws. He crossed the river in a great leap, the prey swinging in his jaws. Perhaps if he returned with a load of prey, Ashfoot would be more inclined to believe the great hunter.
He didn't notice the four pairs of eyes watching him—green, amber, ice blue, and frosty yellow. They followed him until he was out of sight. Then they, too, disappeared.
A/N: Can anyone guess who the four pairs of eyes belong too? Three of them should be easy.