"You're absolutely certain that this is the prophecy that Mossnose was told about?" Sandstar inquired warily. "Why would StarClan choose to warn the RiverClan medicine cat about a prophecy, but give the actual prophecy to WindClan?"
Podtail lashed his tail. "You don't know what it felt like, Sandstar," he muttered. "StarClan was speaking directly through me in that moment. Grasspaw saw it; why don't you explain it, Grasspaw?"
Grasspaw had figured he'd be getting called on to retell his encounter with Podtail at the lake the previous day. Why else would the medicine cat have brought him in with him to disclose the event with Sandstar? He cleared his throat and did his best to summarize:
"I went down to the lake almost involuntarily. It was like my paws were moving on their own," he began, not sure how he could give words to such an otherworldly event. "Podtail was there, and when he spoke the clouds above him got darker and started to swirl. His fur stood on end and the wind picked up, and when he spoke his eyes glowed and his voice was really weird and echo-y."
Sandstar nodded along thoughtfully to Grasspaw's recount. Once he was done, the leader slowly raised himself to his paws, his joints creaking as he did so. "That confirms it, then," he meowed. "Grasspaw, you are the cat who will save us all."
What? That couldn't be right. Grasspaw was about to explain that Sandstar had to be wrong- there was nothing special whatsoever about him- when Podtail did it for him.
"With all due respect, Sandstar," Podtail meowed, his light brown tail swishing irritably, "Grasspaw may be a good cat, but he's no saviour of ours. I believe we should relay this message to Miststar; doesn't he always go on about one of his young cats being destined to be the saviour of the Clans or something?"
Maybe some other cat would have felt hurt by Podtail not even stopping to consider that the prophecy could be about them, but Grasspaw was grateful. He didn't want there to be anything unordinary about him, and he was positive there wasn't (besides his cursed pelt colour, but that was another story). Waterpaw was clearly the special one, and he was happy for her. From what Grasspaw could tell, she deserved a grand destiny better than any cat n his pathetic little Clan.
But Sandstar didn't take Podtail's suggestion well. "This prophecy belongs to WindClan," he hissed. "We need to be saved right now more than any other Clan. Why won't you let StarClan give us what we need?!"
"Because that's not what they're offering," Podtail shot back. "I happened to be down at the lake gathering herbs at the time. StarClan simply used me as a vessel to convey their message."
"At least let him go tell Mossnose about the prophecy," Grasspaw pleaded. "Please, Sandstar… I don't want a prophecy about me. I don't want to save the world, and I don't think I could if I tried."
Sandstar gazed at him with hollow eyes. "Why would you say such a thing, Grasspaw?" he whispered. "Why not allow yourself to be as great as I know you are meant to be?"
Grasspaw already knew the answer: because he wasn't meant for greatness. The best he hoped for was a half-decent future as a warrior and a relatively long life. Some days he half-wanted to get away from his dull life, but he wasn't completely lacking in pride for his Clan. There were one or two cats he liked spending time with, and there wasn't anything better for him outside of the WindClan borders.
But Sandstar was clearly too deluded to see Grasspaw for the ordinary cat he was. The poor old fool was desperate for salvation, but he didn't even realize that WindClan's real problem lied within his position as leader.
Podtail turned to Grasspaw and angled his ears outside the leader's den. "I think you'd better go," he muttered. "This discussion isn't meant for the ears of ordinary apprentices."
Grasspaw nodded, although he paused just outside the little alcove that Sandstar called his den and cast his eyes up to the proper leader's den, which had been unoccupied for as long as he could remember. Roseflower had taken to sleeping next to Sandstar as of late, as she always complained that the warriors' den was too cold and crowded. If only she'd just retire, Sandstar could make a younger warrior deputy and then live out the rest of his life knowing that he'd have a good cat to take his place once he was gone. Grasspaw wondered what life the old sandy tom was on. Surely by now it had to be one of his last.
The WindClan camp was covered in rain from the previous day and night, when the rain had finally let up around moonhigh. It wasn't raining now, but it was overcast, and the clouds felt as though they could produce more rain at any moment. Grasspaw tried to shake the sense of foreboding that looking up at the gray sky brought him. It was just a cloudy sky; it didn't mean anything.
What am I doing here?
Waterpaw wondered this as she sat on the riverbank, letting the river run over her paws, cooling them down and washing off the caked-on mud from yesterday.
Why was she sitting there wasting time cleaning her paws off? Wasn't there anything better she could or should be doing? It felt like there was, but she couldn't find anything to do. Foxfang's mate, Lakesplash, had just found out she was expecting kits, and Foxfang had been fluttering around her all day in concern, even though Mossnose said she was in perfect health and the ginger tom had no need to worry. He'd been so busy making sure his mate was doing okay that he hadn't bothered taking his apprentice out, so Waterpaw had gathered some moss and checked the elders for ticks and helped soak up the last but of excess water in the apprentices' den. Those things had kept her busy for most of the day, but it had been barely past sunhigh and Waterpaw had gotten restless. What she really wanted to do was some battle training, but Foxfang was too busy with Lakesplash to do that!
Instead, she'd asked Miststar if she could go hunting, and he'd given her permission as long as Patchfur went with her. The black-and-white tom hadn't shut up the whole time about some she-cat or tom or something else entirely- Waterpaw hadn't caught who his newest obsession was, but she was sure they'd have no interest in him, like all the other cats he'd chased. They'd crossed a particularly muddy ditch while out hunting for some land prey, and after going back to camp to drop off the mice they'd caught, they'd headed back out, but not to hunt this time.
Patchfur slunk off to StarClan-knows-where- probably to the border, where he'd probably agreed to meet with some attractive young cat from another Clan. They probably wouldn't be there, just as the last seven hadn't been there. Patchfur was one of the best at falling in love with cats he shouldn't fall in love with, but one of the worst at getting them to love him back. Waterpaw was just glad he was unlucky in love, because a forbidden romance could get him in real trouble if any cat found out about it.
It was a good thing Waterpaw was too smart to ever fall for a cat from across the border. She hoped to become better friends with Grasspaw, but friendship was all she'd ever let it be. Her destiny was going to be something so great that no tom could ever be worth it, and breaking the warrior code was an imperfection she doubted StarClan would forgive.
Now she was washing her muddy paws off in the river. A few chunks of ice still floated in the icy water, but most of it had melted, combining with the rainfall of the previous day to push the water level high above what it normally was. Once Waterpaw felt that her paws were sufficiently clean, she stepped out into the current, letting it tug at her fur. The undercurrent dragged her paws downstream, but she unsheathed her claws and dug them into the mossy rocks at the bottom of the water so she wouldn't get pulled away.
The water lapped at Waterpaw's fluffy white chest fur, and she craned her neck so that it wouldn't reach her muzzle. There were fish swimming around her, frantically changing their course to avoid her. A cloud of minnows swam by and she touched her nose to the water and watched them- too small to eat, but fun to observe. She took a deep breath in and stuck her head under the water, letting go of the bottom altogether and letting the current carry her along for a minute before striking out with her powerful hind legs, swimming upwards against the current.
Waterpaw always struggled with opening her eyes underwater. But whenever she did, she felt like she was in a different world. She pushed herself up to a little waterfall- not a proper waterfall; it was only a tail-length or so high- and climbed out of the river for a second. She scrambled up the rocks at the side of the river and little chips of shale showered down behind her before she reached the top, coiled her muscles, and leaped over the little falls, splashing into the turbulent water below. It was a thing she'd heard of twolegs doing sometimes when they came to the lake in greenleaf, and it was very fun, especially in that one moment at the top when you never knew if you were going to make it over the falls.
A little chunk of ice floated by and Waterpaw pushed herself as far down as she could and let the chunk float by overtop of her. She flipped herself over and dug her claws into the chunk of ice and it carried her a bit downstream before breaking apart. Then Waterpaw saw a trout swimming downstream and she clung to an algae-covered rock until it swam by, at which point she reached out and nabbed it. Waterpaw flung the trout out of the river and let it flop around until it was dead while she continued swimming, relishing in the sensation of her body submerged in cold water.
It was hard to tell how much time passed. But before long, the sun was low in the sky, and it was time to go back to camp. Waterpaw hoisted herself out of the river, surprised to find herself staring up at a triumphantly grinning Patchfur.
"Hey, Waterpaw," he purred, pressing his paw teasingly to Waterpaw's forehead as though he was going to try to push her back in the water. "Living up to your name, I see."
Waterpaw shook out her pelt defiantly, spraying Patchfur. He jumped back, trying to look offended but in too a good a mood for it to be convincing. There was a twig poking out form between his lips, dotted with fuzzy, newly formed pussy willows. It carried the scent of ShadowClan; Waterpaw sighed. It made sense that even Patchfur would hit a streak of luck sometimes, but she really didn't want him to do anything he'd regret.
"Sooo," she mewed as they padded back to camp together. "Tell me all about it."
"Well, they're… younger than I expected," Patchfur meowed slowly. "Still an apprentice, actually. But they've been an apprentice for longer than usual. Jadestar's been holding them back because they're too 'rebellious'." He rolled his eyes and let out a disbelieving snort. "What kind of leader does that?! Anyways, their name is Birchpaw and they are insanely cute. We're going to meet up at the Gathering tomorrow night."
Waterpaw wanted to be happy for her friend, but she was forced to hope things would turn out badly and it felt awful. Patchfur couldn't keep doing this! His casual disregard for the warrior code always baffled Waterpaw. Didn't he care what his Clanmates thought? Didn't he care what Miststar thought?!
But she didn't want to tell any of that to her friend. Instead, she asked, "so, what does Birchpaw look like?"
"Oh, they're breathtaking," Patchfur sighed with a dreamy look in his eyes. "They're a tabby, with really light brown fur and darker brown and black stripes! Their face has some white on it too, and they've got the most dazzling green eyes!"
"Why do you keep calling them 'they'?" Waterpaw wondered. "Didn't they tell you whether they were a she-cat or a tom?"
"I'm just using the pronouns they told me to use," Patchfur meowed. "But from what I could tell Birchpaw is… biologically… a she-cat." He jumped up onto an old decaying log and walked along on top of it for a while before jumping down. "I really think they like me."
That was what Waterpaw was worried about. She wanted to tell him so, but she knew he wouldn't listen. So she simply walked along in silence, listening to her friend babble on about his new (forbidden, not that he cared) love. Sometimes she envied cats who had a simpler life- like Grasspaw. Surely none of his Clanmates were like this, and he never had to worry about his every action in case StarClan didn't like something he did. Maybe it was wrong to be critical of such a blessed life, but sometimes it felt more like a curse to Waterpaw.
Clouds still covered most of the sky, but far to the west there was a strip of purple and orange that let Grasspaw know that the sun was setting. He sighed, hoping that the weather would clear up for the Gathering the next night. He wanted to be able to see the moon and the stars shining clearly so he would know StarClan approved of what he was doing.
He told this to Seedpelt, who was sharing a rabbit he'd caught with him, and the glossy brown tom didn't seem to understand Grasspaw's reasoning.
"Don't get your hopes too high," Seedpelt muttered to him. "For all you know, you might not even get invited."
"I guess you're right," Grasspaw grumbled. "I'd just like to think I have something to look forward to."
Seedpelt blinked at him. "Please don't tell me you're back to that awful nihilistic attitude of yours," he sighed. "I thought you'd gotten over that when you became an apprentice."
"I'm not nihilistic," Grasspaw objected. "My life just happens to be horrible."
Seedpelt rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say," he muttered. Then he placed his front paw on Grasspaw's muzzle and guided it over so that Grasspaw was facing him and said more seriously, "Grasspaw, you have plenty to look forward to in life. And one day you'll accomplish something that makes you feel special, even if you don't have any kind of mystical destiny. Every warrior gets that chance at some point."
Grasspaw knew his friend was right, but it didn't feel like it. Getting a chance to interact with cats from other Clans seemed like the best thing that could happen to a cat like him, with his own Clan in such a sorry state. It would still be several moons before Grasspaw and his littermates would become warriors, and he just wasn't sure if he could wait that long without his rabbit-brained Clanmates driving him crazy. Other than Seedpelt, he could hardly stand any of them.
Not for the first time, Grasspaw felt a pang of jealousy for Waterpaw's life. She lived in a thriving Clan, with no littermates and lots of cats who liked her. She even had a prophecy about her. If Grasspaw could change places with her, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
Well, maybe he wouldn't really do that. A nice life would be fun, but swimming didn't appeal to Grasspaw in the slightest. He didn't like to get his paws wet, and fish smelled horrible. Besides, Grasspaw would never want all the pressure that would come with having a prophecy about him. How could cats like that even live their daily lives? It seemed awful to Grasspaw, but Waterpaw always seemed so happy about it that he figured he was just missing some critical aspect of it that made having a special life enjoyable.
Maybe he'd ask her about it at the Gathering- if Roseflower included him in the group of cats that were going. It was hard to say if the elderly deputy would even bother to include him in that group this time around; after all, it wasn't as if there was anything extraordinary about him that would warrant him being there. He was just another average cat.