I know I said that I wouldn't be writing any more fanfics... but I'm still alive and technically active, dammit!

Now, I know what you're thinking: Storm, you said that you had to write this novel-thing or something. YOU LIED TO ME! *sobs*

I didn't lie. I finished the novel-thing. But now, I've already contacted THREE publishers and none of them responded... yet. It's been a long time, and I need to keep my creative juices flowing. You know? I'm truly sorry that I won't be continuing the other fanfics, but-

You know what? This is just all too sad for me. I'm going to update again!

But don't get too excited. I will only update when I really feel like it. I will very rarely, if at all, update Bring Up the Bodies, because I've no idea what to do with that one. I will update The Cat With No Soul Left the most, because I literally planned out everything, I'm proud of the plot, and I don't want to let it go to waste. Rising Storm... well, maybe, and the reviewing thing is just for fun when I'm in the mood for it.

I'll try to keep up with this with all the publisher and editor and emailing and query letter and synopsis and contacting stuff. I'll try.

In a forest, there was a clearing. In the clearing, there was a severed claw, and the severed claw once belonged to someone.

Only one shape sat at the center. His bulky golden fur stood out from the rest of the darkened woods, filled with the shadows of midnight. He almost wished for dawn again. The soft orange glows have never felt so welcoming.

Someone padded out from between two trees, and Lionspring found himself staring at his close friend, Snaketalon. "Hello," he said, rather relieved to be having some company. This was one of those rare times when Lionspring wished for the accompaniment of others. He never was one for crowds, anyway. They tended to misunderstand him.

Snaketalon scratched one claw on the dusty ground. "So, all's well?" he asked.

Lionspring nodded. "Yes, the plan is going according to schedule." Suddenly, he caught a whiff of something unusual, something not to be expected in a dark forest in the middle of the night, and so he spun around, sniffing the air cautiously.

Flashes of a light-colored, orange pelt. Orange. Such an unusual color, added to the now towering pile of strange things... he lashed out with his claws, suddenly and without a warning. Someone gasped, and it was one for air.

"What are you doing here, little rascal, listening in to our private conversations?" Lionspring snarled. The newcomer struggled in the warrior's grasp, terrified, his eyes wide.

"I- I promise I didn't come here of my own accord!" he stammered, looking around himself in bewilderment. Lionspring tilted his head in thought, then slowly lowered the kit to the ground.

"That is interesting indeed," he mused, taking close note of the petrified expression on the tiny cat. "What is your name, and how did you come to such a place like this?"

He was staring at the center of the clearing. "T-tigerkit," he said, trying to keep his voice as level and calm-sounding as possible. It wasn't working very well, he thought with gloom. "What's that thing on the ground?"

Snaketalon snickered. "Oh, an omen, according to him, but he has never been particularly good with omens, has he?" He jabbed his tail at Lionspring, and it made a slight cracking sound. Everyone except Snaketalon winced.

"My omens always come true, unlike yours," he snapped. "It's Piperpaw's own fault that he's stumbling into dreams like this."

"It's Tigerkit," he muttered. "I- I need to go."

No one protested as he bounded away, rather relieved and more than a little scared. "So," Lionspring said once the silence had taken over once again, "what did you think of that?"

Snaketalon hissed. "Pathetic. I think your omen described him well. Why did you let him get away?"

Something clicked in Lionspring's mind, and he was suddenly furious at how foolish he had been. "It was him!"

That was several moons ago, but I never quite forgot that dream.