"Oh… StarClan… What am I gonna tell the Clan?" she paced nervously back and forth inside Starstone. "I could just go, 'Hey, what's up! I have nine lives and you can call me Mistlestar now!'"
Pebblepaw looked at her quizzically. "Why don't you just jump on the Pebble Hill and tell them?"
"No, no, no…" Mistlestar muttered.
"Come on, Mistleheart,-I mean star-Just tell them the truth!" Pebblepaw spluttered.
"Alright, I'll try," she agreed.
"Let's go, slowpoke," Pebblepaw nudged her to her feet. "You gonna sit here all day?"
Mistlestar shot a playful glare at the medicine cat apprentice. "No," she said primly.
They squeezed through the damp tunnel. It was night. A chill breeze sent goosebumps up her spine.
"So?" A voice asked. Mistlestar nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Emberdawn?"
"Mmm?"
"Go back to camp." Mistlestar ordered.
"Alright, your majesty," Emberdawn chuckled and slipped away.
Mistleheart's emerald eyes shot daggers after her. Pebblepaw and Mistlestar trudged back to camp in silence. Emberdawn was waiting for them at the camp entrance. Her usual mysterious gaze had wavered to hatred and uncertainty.
"You've got to see this," she meowed urgently.
"What?" Mistleheart and the apprentice peered through the camp entrance and stepped inside. The cats were all clustered around the pebbles, whispering excitedly. A slender golden she-cat with a nasty grin reclined on top.
"I am StreamClan's leader!" snarled an all too familiar voice.