A cool breeze washed over the tops of the cliff. It carried with it the stench of salt from the ocean below. The relentless crashing of the waves filled Sharpthunder's ears, a familiar sound to the tom. A purr rumbled in his chest as he opened his eyes, narrowing them against the mist being blown in with the wind. He found that he was standing at the edge of Highcliffs, the sky an endless black expanse beyond him. Curiously, he noted that Silverpelt was hidden, but not by clouds. There were none dotting the sky.
Looking down, Sharpthunder saw the jagged outlines of Sharpstones below him as another wave crashed over them. The sharp rocks glistened in the moonlight, wet from the ocean water. Bits of seaweed, barnacles, and crustaceans clung to the rocks desperately, their only refuge in the thrash of the waves.
The sound of another cat's gentle purring startled Sharpthunder. He was not alone.
The smokey-grey tom whirled around, the fur on the back of his neck bristling as he instinctually unsheathed his claws. Stood before him was a dark gray tom, with ice blue eyes that glinted in the moonlight.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the dark gray tom mewed. His voice was not familiar to Sharpthunder, but he sounded young. "I never got to spend time here before I died, being from HeatherClan. I come all the time now that I walk the skies."
Before he died?
Sharpthunder looked more closely at the newcomer. He was the size of an apprentice, but the wind was blowing in the opposite direction, so Sharpthunder was unable to catch a whiff of the sweet, sagey smell that all HeatherClan cats have clinging to their fur. As he squinted, Sharpthunder could make out the dotting of stars within the gray rosettes coloring the tom's pelt.
With a start, Sharpthunder snapped his gaze up to the tom's eyes, shivering as they appeared to burn right through him. "Are you-?"
"I'm Flailpaw," the cat mewed. "I think you know where we are, now."
Sharpthunder looked beyond the small frame of the cat, expecting to see the gentle expanse of sand and heather that should slope down and connect Highcliffs to the beach. Instead, he saw only darkness, like a dense forest was closing in on them, just beyond the sharpness of his gaze. The only light came from the almost full moon hanging in the sky above them. The moon felt closer, as if Sharpthunder could score a claw mark down it if he reached out.
Flailpaw sat down, curling his thin tail around his dark paws. Sharpthunder's unease turned to a sense of wonderment as he beheld the star-speckled cat in front of him.
"StarClan," Sharpthunder breathed. He dipped his head respectfully, and felt embarrassed that he had first reacted to Flailpaw's presence with hostility. "It's an honor."
Flailpaw's tail tip flicked where it rested in front of his paws, as if he was amused. He dipped his head, as if telling Sharpthunder he could relax.
"I come to you on the eve of a very important day for WillowClan," Flailpaw said, his voice more somber than before. "A Clan you love, and a Clan I know you'd protect with your life."
Sharpthunder's blood grew cold, and he lashed his tail once as he felt his protectiveness for his Clan surge within him. "Of course I would! What is going to happen? Is my Clan in danger?"
"Not if you can help it," Flailpaw murmured, a faint smile on his face, as if endeared by Sharpthunder's display of passion. "I need to know if you have what it takes."
Sharpthunder cocked his head in confusion as he stepped closer to Flailpaw. He felt the fur on his shoulder's bristling, not at Flailpaw, but at the unknown enemy he was being warned of.
"I do," Sharpthunder meowed, trying to match Flailpaw's tone. A quiver in his voice betrayed him.
"Tell me," Flailpaw leaned forward, almost touching his nose to Sharpthunder's. His gaze bored into Sharpthunder's, ice blue against daisy yellow. "Do you swear to your warrior ancestors to protect your leader with your life?"
"Yes, but," Sharpthunder cried, "you must tell me what is happening."
"Swear it!" Flailpaw suddenly hissed, spittle flicking Sharpthunder in the face as he found himself nose-to-nose with the starry apprentice.
"I swear!"
Immediately, the ground beneath Sharpthunder began to feel like it was tilting, and then falling away. As Sharpthunder began to fall through thin air, Flailpaw disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. The light from the moon cut off, Sharpthunder wailed as he heard the crashing of the ocean growing nearer. He felt the cold spray of the waves on his pelt. As soon as he was sure he was about to fall onto Sharpstones and meet his end, the feeling of falling through the air ceased, and the darkness of the cliffside was replaced by a gentle, glowing sunlight.
Sharpthunder woke with a start, the tail end of a yowl still on his tongue. He jerked his head up, finding himself safe and dry within his nest, sheltered inside the protective mangrove roots of the warriors' den.
"What a dream," he mumbled.