Chapter 1 - Cycle Twelve: February of the Third Year

The story begins with a noble leader and his loyal Second Claw.

Wrenstar had occupied the highest position of power within the Copperwood Pride for a total of six years. He was not a young cat, his muzzle and the fur around his eyes flecked with a constellation of silver strands where there once was a handsome, light brown tabby coat. He had always been a small cat, but his shoulders had recently begun to show a frailness not typical for him, his fur growing dull, his tail flicking with a subtle lack of vigor that perhaps only his closest companions would notice.

Tawnysong, his Second Claw, had of course noticed. She, on the other paw, was a younger, more spry member of the Copperwood Pride. She was still of an appropriate age for her position, but had been born a number of years after the leader. He could remember her as a kitten, even. He had watched her grow. She had once been this tiny, pale orange bundle… now a strong, stoic and elegant cat.

He stared at her now, in his age, in his weary posture, thinking perhaps this may be the last discussion they would have this way. A discussion outside of conventional politics, the council, matters of cross pride relations, matters of guilds and all of the other creatures that occupied this great sprawling land they both called home. This might be the last they'd be alone here, so far from their base camp, surrounded by rattling, leafless trees, by snow, by stars… most significantly: a sliver moon, like a newly sharpened claw, hanging central in the sky.

Wrenstar knew this, not for certain, but he was confident enough that if he had something to say he ought to say it now. As the pale tabby knew, deep inside of him, down to his last claw and to the tips of his whiskers and ears… that he would soon die. He was not sad. In some ways he was hardly worried about the matter itself. It was simple. He felt the light and breath of the living world around him fleeting, first it has walked from him but now with each passing day picking up the pace… running now.

"Tawnysong, my loyal successor, my friend, my pridemate, I want to say…"

She blinked, staring him in his clear blue eyes with her round, golden amber pair.

"God, don't say it Wrenstar. I know what you are thinking. Mintfoot has spoken to me of it already. I grieve you with my entire heart, and look…" She motioned at him with her tail. "You are still living in front of me."

His chest welled up with nostalgia and an eerie hurt. It was not a sharp, painful hurt but one that was lingering and numb, like a sore muscle. He didn't like the thought of the she-cat damaged by his absence, or her mind in any state of extreme grief.

He gazed out from where they sat on an isolated, high lookout. He could see so much of the territory here, though his eyes had grown weaker… making them less adept from seeing far distances… he could still make out the gorgeous arrangement of evergreen trees, patches of them adding greenery to the bare, leafless aspens that lifted much higher above their pine and cedar counterparts. Above them, a single, gorgeous ponderosa pine that he had long ago claimed as his favorite tree in the entire kingdom of Scowl. It was an elder tree, full of scratch marks from being climbed, lush with long, almost basil green needles and swathes of budding cones.

There was a stagnant silence between the two cats, Tawnysong exhaling, her breath visible like clouds in the air.

Wrenstar dipped his head, flattening his ears respectfully, a strange action for such a figure of authority. He lifted his head back up, and looked at her once more.

"Listen, I want to respect your wishes, but it is also important for me to clarify my desires before… my passing." He managed, lingering a little on the word passing, as if he would have preferred to use some other word.. or no word at all. "Tawnysong, you will be raising kits soon. Me, I never had my own. However, you are like a daughter to me. I feel you, your mate and your expected kits will be kin to me, in some ways. There are things you must know, things that must be passed on to you while I am still living."

Tawnysong looked at him like it was a strange thing to say, and perhaps it was. They hadn't discussed the matter much, aside when she had informed the leader of the pregnancy.

She frowned, then her face softened. "I won't be carrying kits of my own, Wrenstar. Ridgewhisper is expecting, not I, you know this… we shall mother them together, but I won't require a leave from my duties."

"I know, this is not what I'm referring to." he assured her. "I was never concerned about this fact, in a way it was incredibly relieving when you chose a partnership with another she-cat. My concern presents itself more in regards to the lives of the kittens, the timeline in which they will be born… it won't bode well for their safety."

She nodded. "The cycle, I know. We are in the third year, which means in the short term… sickness, then the great fire."

He sighed. "Sickness, fire, and a potential for extreme unrest in our territory. War has never been an explicit component of the cycle, however in my years as leader and as a council member alike… it seems these things often walk with their tails intertwined."

"So what do you wish to share with me regarding all of this?" She breathed. "I cannot change Ridgewhisper's choice to bear kits, and I cannot deny my love for her. Kits cannot cease to be born during these dips in livelihood, our kind cannot resist keeping on despite hardship…" She trailed on. "You yourself were born in the heart of the eleventh sickness, were you not?"

Wrenstar curled his tail carefully over his front paws, remaining patient with his companion.

"I was raised in the midst of that sickness, yes, and the cat I am today can be attributed to the climate in which my ears grew tall. It was hard. I had four littermates and I was the only survivor. I am smaller than I was destined to be, body stunted by the flues and hunger. Tawnysong, I am dying as we speak, yet many cats born during different phases live years longer than I will. I have lived the best life I can but I… I cannot lie, my friend, I do not want this fate for your offspring. Furthermore, even less I want the fate of my littermates for them. Death."

She gulped, sitting up tall and proud to present her argument, which grew inside her like a parasite and willed itself from her lips.

"Our healers are incredible, we have the herbalists guilds in the south who make great discoveries every day and have always been friendly with our pride. Plus, who is to say it will be as bad? Perhaps the illness will be one of exhaustion, not wasting. Perhaps there will be sneezing instead of fevers." She shook her head. "Trust me, Wrenstar, I've thought about it. In fact, it keeps me up at night sometimes. It distracts me while I'm hunting. It makes me so afraid that the beginning of my leadership and my first instance of motherhood will be tainted by the destiny of the third year. But… I force myself to look forward, to take each day as it comes, to not use the events of the past to determine what the future will hold."

"I'm not telling you to not have kits, Tawnysong. I'm telling you I want you to protect them."

She flexed her claws in the moonlight, then peered over at him again. "Of course I will protect them."

"I don't mean protect them with your claws, I mean protect them by taking them away from here."

She gasped, then looked around. The wind was picking up and powdery snow was blowing all around them. Wrenstar somehow looked more angelic, like he was glowing in the thin clouds of snowflakes. If she released her focus from him, distanced herself from reality a little… he looked like a ghost.

"Take them away? Take them where? Away from our pride, our love, our culture… away from this gorgeous homeland? For them to be raised by outsiders? I cannot step down from my duties, my leader, and I cannot send my mate away with my children."

"I know it must sound absurd, but it is important." He meowed. "You need not leave the pride, and none of your family will be permanently alienated from the group. I just wish for you to consider letting them live their earliest days somewhere safer, away from the ferocity of the third year's beginning, away from the danger. I say this because I have reason to believe that at least one of these kits will be of great importance in Copperwood and perhaps even beyond our territory upon their maturity."

"That's so damn vague, I don't even know what you are trying to say, with all due respect." She said, with a bit of venom, a few tendrils of resentment slipping from her throat. "What are your reasons for believing this?"

Wrenstar sighed. She was so young, she wouldn't understand. The Prides were not a spiritual kind, not like their distant ancestors who believed in communicating with Starclan and the ghosts of deceased kin. No, instead their society was quite secular, driven by tradition, folklore, and of course… the never ending cycle.

The cycle was the only steadfast thing in their world… the fact that history would repeat itself in some ways, over and over and over. Some could say that the cycle itself is a god that is worshiped and respected, however, it is still a very distant concept from the conventions of ancient clan cats. This was a different, more visceral, more tangible god. This was nature itself, the pattern of life, and the predictable reality of the world in which they all lived.

She knows not of the scholars. Those who have studied the cycle for an eternity. The most intelligent of our kind. She is only Second Claw, she knows not of their power.

The only remnants of Starclan seekers were the distant scholarly faction who occupied the thorny plateau, the White Whiskers. They were not perfect prophets, but they often communicated with leaders when a threat great enough to penetrate the long forgotten spirit world presented itself. The secular nature of the Prides was tested most often during the most painful periods of the cycle. Painful periods of the cycle, such as the one that burgeoned before them as the winter matured.

"I don't know how else to say it, and I cannot speak with much specificity, friend, but I have communicated with the White Whiskers as I near death and as my Pridemates near this period of despair. They sought me out, I believe them, Tawnysong. I am not a cat who worships Starclan, but I know in my bones that darkness comes, it comes soon… and you Ridgewhisper will mother a kit who cannot fall ill. It will sicken the forest itself, this illness, I've seen it before."

She narrowed her eyes. "Will my kit be a healer, is this what you are implying?" She meowed. "Because even healers cannot change the progression of the cycle, they can only mend what is broken once the damage has been done."

"They will reach you, Tawnysong, when I am gone. You will understand. I needed only to tell you what I know now, because time is running out, and soon your kits will be born, perhaps before you are enlightened by the white whiskers of what is to come."

She did not understand, she did not want to believe what he was saying but she knew this leader and she knew to trust him, he would not push such a frightening ideal unless he truly believed in the risk. She both wanted to know more and hated to think of this at all. Her eyes were awash with tears, now, she sniffled, imagining the pain of not watching her litter grow and discover the world around them.

"Tell me what needs to be done, tell me what they… the white whiskers… think will help." She felt bile in her throat, ashamed that she might succumb to the demands of a bunch of cats she'd never even met.

"You need to send Ridgewhisper to the Alliance. She must go before she gives birth. She can be accompanied, if need be. She will have the shelter of the caverns, as well as great distance from the Prides. The Copperwood Pride is at peace with the alliance, they are noble cats, they will not deny a nursing queen a home."

Her mind swam with worry, she felt ill, she sobbed.

"They'll be so far from me."

"They can come home once the sickness has subsided."

"My heart will hurt, Wrenstar."

"Your heart will hurt less then if something happened to them."

"What if something does happen to them, out there?"

"It can't be worse than what's to come, dear Tawnysong."

He moved closer to her, resting his head on hers, purring softly in an attempt to comfort her. She cried, choking back wails.

"I don't want you to die." She said, "You can't leave me, not now."

"I'm sorry." He muttered. "I would stay around if I could."

"How will I convince Ridgewhisper?"

"She'll know it needs to be done. A mother with kits in her belly will do anything to protect them."

"I don't want her to raise them on her own."

"The alliance will provide a community. They are a peaceful kind, there is little conflict there. She will be far from alone."

"I will be the one who is alone." She muttered. Selfishness washed over her, it felt almost warm and indulgent. She was so afraid, and the world before her seemed larger than she could have ever imagined it to be.