Post by ♪☆ɴιɢнтpool☆♪ on Jul 29, 2016 15:29:30 GMT -5
NOTE: Back on the old WCF, this fic was completed, but it didn't have all that many readers. I'd move the whole thing over, but for one thing, people don't seem to like to read finished stories, and for another, moving it over all at once would be a huge hassle. So, it'll be coming up a chapter at a time, like any story. Enjoy!
When breeze falls, fire, water, tree, and stone will rise to destroy the Clans forever. So states the ancient prophecy, uttered by Firestar himself upon the four Clans’ arrival in the delta. Though even Firestar has faded from living memory, forgotten after many thousands of seasons, the prophecy remains, passed down from leader to deputy and medicine cat to apprentice. The ordinary cats of each Clan are none the wiser, and for the most part, the Clans go about their daily lives as normal. However, all that is about to change...
Ƥɾσʅσɠυҽ:
Screeches of battle filled the air. Many cats were already fleeing — where, they didn’t know. All they knew was that they had to escape from the rogues’ relentless attack. Muddyfur, the old medicine cat, watched in horror, powerless to stop the chaos. Sootstar collapsed beside him, his breath labored. Muddyfur could tell he had lost all but his last life.
“It has begun,” Sootstar murmured. “You realize that, right? The prophecy has begun.”
“How could I not?” the old tom growled. “WindClan — breeze — is falling around us. Our destruction spells the destruction of all Clans.”
“I only wish that breeze had meant something else. I hate to see my Clan like this.”
Muddyfur opened his mouth to agree, but was cut off as a mangy ginger she-cat sank her teeth into his throat. His eyes glazed over, and he coughed twice, took a final, laborious breath, and died. Sootstar stared for only a moment before leaping up to attack his friend’s murderer.
Sootstar felt a thrill of satisfaction as he sent the rogue howling straight through the camp’s destroyed boundary. He whirled, clawing a black-and-white tom on the flank before turning to defend himself from a pair of grey tabbies who looked barely old enough to be warriors. Though he fought well, the rogues were overwhelming him with sheer numbers. Finally, WindClan’s bold leader succumbed to the attack.
A tortoiseshell queen let out a despairing wail. “Sootstar is dead! WindClan is dead! Run while you still can!”
The once-proud warriors of WindClan scattered into the night. A few retreated to quiet dens and died of their wounds. Several sought sanctuary with ThunderClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan. One ran until he reached a twoleg farm and took to hunting there. The rest became rogues and loners, fending for themselves and occasionally family members.
~*~*~
Across the territory, a spotted brown she-cat licked three newborn kits in turn: a golden tom, a pale grey she-kit, and a dark brown she-kit who bore a strong resemblance to her mother. The little tom squeaked in protest, then tried to grab his mother’s tongue with a tiny paw. The grey she-kit tried to hide under brother, which didn’t work very well since he was squirming so much. The dark brown she-kit wriggled away from her mother to investigate the medicine cat.
An enromous golden tom poked his head into the nursery’s entrance. “May I come in now, Fallingleaf?” he inquired in a deep voice.
The she-cat laughed. “Of course, Thornstar! You’re just in time to help me name our kits!”
Thornstar stepped all the way into the cozy den, his green eyes shining. “That little tom’s a fiery one!” he commented with a laugh as the aforementioned little tom mewed and tried to bite his nose.
“Maybe Flamekit for him?”
“Perfect!” Fallingleaf agreed. “What about Cinderkit for the grey she-kit?”
As Thornstar nodded, an older kit poked her head over the edge of her nest. “The last one can be Sweetkit,” she suggested.
“Great idea, Maplekit!” Fallingleaf applauded.
Thornstar smiled at the three little bundles now curled up against their mother’s belly. “Our kits are sure to be some of the finest, most loyal warriors in ThunderClan,” he commented.
How very wrong he was.
Ƈԋαρƚҽɾ Ơɳҽ:
Ƈԋαρƚҽɾ Ƭɯσ:
Ƈԋαρƚҽɾ Ƭԋɾҽҽ:
Ƈԋαρƚҽɾ Ƒσυɾ:
Ƈԋαρƚҽɾ ƑΙʋҽ:
