A soft grey figure moved before the she-cat as she blearily opened her eyes. The grey figure sharpened into a little blue-grey cat, barely more than a kit, but sorting herbs with incredible speed and skill.
"Hello," the she-cat rasped, surprised at how weak she felt. The grey cat, who looked strangely familiar, swung around to look at the she-cat.
"You're awake!" she exclaimed, dropping a bundle of herbs she held in her mouth. The she-cat nodded, feeling a dry sensation in her throat and stomach.
"I don't feel well…" she said, trailing off. The smaller she-cat's expression changed. It was hard to define, a mix of disappointment, anger, sorrow, and… pity?
"I know." Her tone was soft, yet guarded, like a snake about to strike. "That's because you're dying."
"I'm dying?" the she-cat repeated.
"You kitted last night. I don't know if you remember, but you came to us. FireClan. Gorseclaw found you in the forest, and brought you here, about to kit. Speckleclaw and I tried to help, but…" The little she-cat hung her head in shame and anger. "I'm so sorry. My name is Jasminepaw."
"I… understand…"
"You had three kits. They're beautiful. Blueflower is nursing them now."
{This wasn't entirely true. Two of the kits were weak and struggling, barely clinging onto life. The other had died just that morning. But I think we can forgive Jasminepaw, as she was trying to comfort a dying queen.}
"Tell me about them, Jasminepaw."
The little medicine cat apprentice looked flustered for a moment, then nodded. "It's a tom and two she-cats. They look like you."
{Another lie there. But that'll all be discussed at length later.}
"Why am I in here?" she rasped.
Jasminepaw ignored her, her eyes glazing over. The she-cat narrowed her eyes in concern. "What is it?"
Suddenly, the light from the morning sun seemed to shine across the vines covering the enterance of the medicine den. It silhouetted the apprentice, showing only her wide blue eyes. The she-cat stared wonderingly as Jasminepaw murmured, "The first omen arrives."
"The first what?" the she-cat stammered.
"The kit of a star, the fur of the sun, the heart of the wild. Only these three can stop the rising darkness that has started with a simple flower. And the one forgotten will be the one most important of all…"
The medicine cat choked off, dropping to the floor.
"Jasminepaw!" the she-cat cried hoarsely. The grey-blue apprentice shuddered, blinking. "That was a prophecy," she said wonderingly. "An omen and a prophecy. And-" she snapped, staring at the she-cat, "it seems serious. And it collides with you coming here." She approached the she-cat, lashing her tail. "Who are you?"
"That's not important."
Jasminepaw's eyes grew wider. "It is!"
"It… is… not," the she-cat growled.
The medicine cat apprentice hissed and clawed at the ground. "I have to know!"
"I'm going to sleep," the she-cat said angrily, turning over.
"You can't!" the medicine cat cried, but the she-cat didn't reply.
{The she-cat was dead by sunhigh that day.}
Five cats came to the burial. A grey-blue medicine cat apprentice, an aged reddish medicine cat, and an unwilling queen carrying two tiny kits in her mouth.
There was another burial that day. Elmfur, a senior warrior, had stumbled upon the body of a black-and-white warrior, mysteriously killed, lying by a clear lake.
The leader, Ashstar, spent the day in his den, fretting over a prophecy made by a mere apprentice.