Mistystar’s Omen

“Leopardstar?” Mistyfoot bounded into the green stalks. A few strides in, she reached her leader’s side. She was slumped on the ground, her eyes stretched wide with pain, her flanks heaving with the effort to draw another breath. “Don’t move,” Mistyfoot ordered. “I’ll fetch help.” She thrust her way through the rest of the ferns and burst into the clearing at the heart of the territory. “Mothwing! Come quick! Leopardstar has fallen!”

There was the sound of racing paws; then Mothwing’s sandy pelt, so close to the shade of Leopardstar’s, appeared at the entrance to her den. The medicine cat paused, looking around, and Mistyfoot called, “This way!”

Side by side, the cats pushed through the ferns to their leader. Leopardstar had closed her eyes, and her breath rattled in her chest as she gasped for air. Mothwing bent over her, sniffing and tasting her fur with her tongue. Mistyfoot leaned forward but recoiled from the musty stench coming from the sick cat. Close up, she could see dirt and scurf in Leopardstar’s pelt, as if the leader hadn’t groomed herself in days.

“Fetch Mintfur and Pebblefoot,” Mothwing mewed quietly over her shoulder. “They haven’t gone out on patrol yet. They can help us carry Leopardstar to her den.”

Relieved to have an excuse to leave, and guilty that she wanted to, Mistyfoot backed away and raced to the clearing. She returned with Mintfur and Pebblefoot and watched as Mothwing eased Leopardstar to her paws, propped heavily on either flank by the warriors. Mistyfoot held the ferns aside as the cats half guided, half dragged their leader into the camp.

“Is Leopardstar dead?” Mistyfoot heard one of Duskfur’s kits whisper.

“Of course not, dear. She’s just very tired,” Duskfur mewed.

Mistyfoot stood at the entrance to the den and watched Pebblefoot pat moss into place beneath Leopardstar’s head. This was more than mere exhaustion. Already the den seemed darker, the shadows thicker, as though warriors from StarClan were gathering to welcome the RiverClan leader. Mintfur brushed past Mistyfoot as he left, his pale gray pelt smelling sharply of ferns. “Let me know if I can do anything else for her,” he murmured, and Mistyfoot nodded. Pebblefoot followed, his head lowered and the tip of his tail leaving a faint scar in the dust.

Mothwing tucked Leopardstar’s front paw more comfortably under the she-cat’s chest and straightened up. “I need to fetch some herbs from my den,” she meowed. “Stay with her; let her know that you are here.” She rested her muzzle briefly against Mistyfoot’s ear. “Be strong, my friend,” she whispered.

The den seemed deathly quiet after Mothwing had gone. Leopardstar’s breathing had grown shallow, a barely audible wheeze that did little more than flex the moss by her muzzle. Mistyfoot crouched down by her leader’s head and stroked her tail along Leopardstar’s bony flank. “Sleep well,” she mewed softly. “You’re safe now. Mothwing is gathering herbs to make you feel better.”

To her surprise, Leopardstar stirred. “It’s too late for that,” rasped the she-cat without opening her eyes. “StarClan draws near; I can feel them all around me. This is my time to leave.”

“Don’t say that!” hissed Mistyfoot. “Your ninth life has barely started! Mothwing will heal you.”

Leopardstar let out a grunt. “Mothwing has served me so well, but some things are beyond even her skills. Let me go peacefully, Mistyfoot. I won’t fight this last battle, and neither should you.”

“But I don’t want to lose you!” Mistyfoot protested.

One clouded blue eye opened and gazed at her. “Really?” Leopardstar wheezed. “After what I did to your brother? To all the half-Clan cats?”

For a heartbeat, Mistyfoot was plunged back into the dark and stinking rabbit hole in RiverClan’s old camp in the forest. Tigerstar and Leopardstar had united to form TigerClan, and in their quest for the purest warrior blood, they had imprisoned all cats with mixed Clan heritage. Mistyfoot and Stonefur, who had been the RiverClan deputy, had recently learned that Bluestar of ThunderClan was their mother. This had been enough to condemn them in Leopardstar’s eyes, and she had allowed Tigerstar to persecute them until Stonefur had been killed, murdered in cold blood by Tigerstar’s deputy, Blackfoot. Mistyfoot had been rescued by Firestar and taken to ThunderClan until the terrible battle with BloodClan had ended Tigerstar’s death-soaked rule.

“I never deserved your forgiveness,” Leopardstar whispered, jerking Mistyfoot back to the cold, quiet den.

“Tigerstar was responsible for the death of my brother,” Mistyfoot growled. “Tigerstar and Blackfoot. The time of TigerClan had nothing to do with the warrior code that I believe in. I was always loyal to RiverClan—and to you, as our leader.”

Leopardstar sighed. “Your life has been harder than I wanted, Mistyfoot. Losing your brother and three of your kits. You have borne your heartache well.”