can't believe it [CLAN MEETING]

»STORMSTAR

A large tom sat rigidly in his nest, den lit up with morning sunlight. The gray leader had hesitated to start a Clan meeting last night, only because he'd needed to speak with Thistlespot and Emberheart about what had happened at the Gathering. The scent of blood still lingered in his nostrils, nightmares fresh in his mind. Stormstar was a massive tom and considerably hard to startle, but Morningstreak's freaky death had definitely shaken him up.Who in the world bleeds like that randomly? Thistlespot said she'd never seen a thing like it...

Moving so that the pins and needles intensified in his limbs from sitting so tensely still for so long, the mighty cat began to pace his den until he got the feeling back in them. The stormy-pelted cat also needed more time to digest what his medicine cat had told him of her visit to StarClan and the dream they'd sent her while she was there. It just didn't make sense! Then again, not much of anything made sense about the situation. A cat had bled out from no apparent wound anyone had seen and a hoard of a flock of blackbirds had swarmed over the Gathering, covering the moon. That was obviously a very bad omen; he didn't need to be a medicine cat to realise that.

It was time to approach ShadowClan. Stormstar could no longer be a coward and hide from the questioning gazes of his Clan. He was sure the gossip had already circulated, but they needed to know the complete truth of the matter from their leader. He needed to be strong for them in these terrible times that were foreshadowed. And so, the fluffy tom straightened his stance, threw his shoulders back, and strode out of his den with his head high. After all, who would be calm and confident if not Stormstar, the one notorious for near arrogance in such traits? No one. He was the only cat that could soothe his Clanmates' worries, and he'd do a damn good job at it. Fernstar had chosen him for a reason.

He was a gray shadow in the cool gray morning, the stark sunlight making his eyes glow an eerie shade of icy blue. His muscles rippled powerfully beneath his thick pelt as he slithered from his den beneath a large oak and took a few long strides before leaping onto the meeting rock. Stormstar crouched there, letting his gaze rake across his Clan's camp carefully. Cats slowly began to gather already, soundless aside from some whispers passing between a few groups. Although it didn't seem necessary since most were already arriving in a steady trickle, he wanted to be sure every cat heard what he was about to say.


"All cats who are old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath Tall Boulder for a Clan meeting. I'd also like for Emberheart and Thistlespot to join me up here."

He waited patiently for everyone else to join the crowd, narrowing his eyes at Smolderstrike sitting off to the side all by herself. The she-cat wasn't quite as sociable as most Clan cats and he worried she may not be close enough to her fellow ShadowClanners to have any true loyalty to them, especially now. Then again, she'd caught the attention of Blazingpaw lately, and that was quite something, seeing as he too wasn't quite a social butterfly.

Stormstar's severe gaze smoothed over the rest of ShadowClan, trying to see if his deputy and medicine cat were coming yet. He needed them not only for support, but so they could aid him in explaining what was going on to their Clan. It was so utterly frightening and odd that he feared he wouldn't be able to tell them about it correctly.For once, Stormstar's confidence was wavering and it left him feeling even further uneased. The gray tom hid it well however, his chiseled features still as stone and only showing how grimly serious the news was.

ooc: Sorry this is so late, I was grounded and just got my laptop back. >.<

The black tom hadn't gone to sleep. He had gone to his warm nest, but hadn't sleep. He had just stared blankly at the wall across from him, replying the scene with the Windclan deputy over and over in his head. It wasn't that he hadn't seen blood before. Hell, he had killed his own father. He knew the smell, the feel and the sight. But something about it wasn't right. It wasn't made by another cat, but by something he wasn't even sure the medicine cats could explain. He had heard other medicine cats rule out poison before they had cleared the gathering. So if it wasn't that, what had it been.

He didn't realize it was morning until Stormstar called for the cats to gather. so they were finally going to talk about this, huh? He didn't see the point. The she-cat hadn't been a member of Shadowclan. They had their own problems to worry about. The days were getting colder and prey was getting harder and harder to find. However, either way, he wanted to see how the leader and medicine cat explained this. Would be an interesting story to pass on, honestly.

Getting up and stretching he slowly emerged from the den and blinked in the light then went and found a fairly clear area to listen. Settling down, he wrapped his thick tail around his paws, looking more like a huge black shadow than a cat. Narrowing his eyes he let a long breath escape his mouth. Some cats would say it was a sound of annoyance, other boredom. Either way, Whiteclaw felt as there were better things they could be doing.

He inwardly chuckled to himself. He could tell he was starting to act a little like his father. Caring only about what seemed important at the time, and not the fact that maybe this was something that could effect all the clans. Maybe the she-cat had some disease and now they were all effected. He laughed to himself about that one. He caught a few narrowed glances from neighbors but kept silent. They had no need to know what he was thinking. Not that they would care anyway. no one ever cared about this big brute of a cat.

Word Count: 375
Tags: None
Thoughts: Not sure if i should smack him....or hug him....

Runningthorn spent the night tossing and turning in her nest. She hadn't gone to the gathering but it wasn't long before the news spread through camp like a wildfire. The air was tense - tight with the adrenaline pumping through their veins, and everyone was on edge. The energy was too high for her to rest. Something definitely happened, and she wanted to find out. Fortunately for her denmates, nobody was trying to sleep in the first place. She had tried to pry information out of a few, but apparently the events had been so traumatic nobody could repeat what they've seen. The she-cat only got their hollow eyes and gaping maws in response. As the night slithered into day, Runningthorn was able to piece it together bit by bit. It wasn't cut dry information - nothing that she wanted, but it worked for a curious mind as her own. Apparently windclan's deputy, Morningstreak, dropped dead like a fly mid-gathering. She simply bled out. No warning - no attack - nothing.

The lithe tabby rolled it over her tongue, over and over, numerous times and still she couldn't think of anything that made sense. The only thing that wasn't completely idiotic was that maybe Morningstreak had some sort of dormant disease? Something that wasn't detectable until it was too late. Now Runningthorn wasn't some medicine cat, but her father was a traveled tom, and he spoke of things that used to make her shiver. The she-cat let out a heavy sigh, if only her father was here to give the clan his usual well-heeded advice. Instead they were left in the shadows. "All cats who are old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath Tall Boulder for a Clan meeting. I'd also like for Emberheart and Thistlespot to join me up here."

Runningthorn lifted her chin from her paws and peered out of the warrior's den - it looked like Stormstar was calling a meeting. Finally, she could hear what she wanted to hear. With an over-exaggerated stretch the she-cat slid from her nest and into the bitterly cold camp. She clenched her jaw, bracing her body as a gust of frigid air brushed through her pelt. The she-cat began to shiver. It was times like these she wished she had a longer pelt. With a few absent nods, and awkward shoves the she-cat slipped between her clanmates and settled somewhere in the center. She always preferred to be dead-center for these kind of things. She always felt so out of place on the outside. Settling onto her haunches, the tabby lifted her gaze and waited quietly for Stormstart to begin.

He was balanced neatly atop the tall boulder, and seemed to be looking for his right-hand men. The she-cat narrowed her gaze, Stormstar was a handsome tom. He wasn't much older than her, and she remembered admiring him as an early apprentice. He was just finishing his training when she started out and although they've never really talked, she always found herself drawn to him. There was something about his easy-going arrogance that intrigued her. It was easy to get lost in the idea of him; especially if your mind desperately needed a distraction.

<sup>They’re beneath us.

Thistlespot twisted and turned, her eyes running frantically trough the darkness trying to find the source of the voice. Who is beneath us? She wanted to scream but her voice seemed to be gone and her throat felt choked, her lungs filled with unexisting smoke. The medicine cat could feel fire slowly making its way through her limbs but whenever she looked down at her paws she would see them free from flames and charring. Who is? Please! I’m begging you! No voice left her opened maw, she was mute and scared, no reassuring presence by her side to make the nightmares go away. She despised dreaming, she hated it, she didn’t want to go to sleep but she had. Curse whatever had made her drop asleep as soon as she had treated everyone and stepped inside her den.

They’re beneath us.

The imaginary fire grew in intensity, a silent screech left her mouth and raked her throat, she just wanted to wake up. Please… She closed her eyes and covered her ears, but as soon as this new darkness enveloped her the image of the WindClan’s deputy dancing and bleeding raced through her very vivid memories. Her dreams were plagued with horrible visions and fear rampaged freely through her veins, this had to stop.

The spotted cat opened her eyes with a start, it took her a little while to process that she was in her den and not in some perpetual and flaming darkness. She was a mess to say the least, the medicine cat hoped no one had seen her like that… the strong words she had muttered in the Gathering seemed hollow after the nightmare. Where is all that bravery now? Thistlespot felt the shy rays of morning sunlight creep through her golden pelt, it comforted her a bit and she felt how her muscles ached as they relaxed. Just a nightmare, I’m okay. This was the waking world, the land of sunlight, no nightmares haunted her here. She sat down and groomed her pelt with slow and seemingly lazy licks, no one had to know about her nightmares or her fear, they needed a strong medicine cat not a kit mewling for her mother. The she-cat took a deep breath, she had to uphold the sacred duty StarClan and Bluetail had entrusted to her, she had to try to be calm at least in the waking world.

"All cats who are old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath Tall Boulder for a Clan meeting. I'd also like for Emberheart and Thistlespot to join me up here."

The medicine cat counted five heartbeats before stepping out of her den, she looked tired, as if she had not slept for the last few days. However she still irradiated that odd calmness and confidence she had displayed in the Gathering when she tried to comfort every single clan cat. StarClan give me strength. The thought of silvery cats with pelts of stars always made the last lingering traces of nightmares go away, they were watching over her, over all of them, she trusted them with all her heart. Thistlespot walked to the Tall Boulder with light steps trying her best to reassure her clanmates with a confident look, or as confident as she could considering how tired she actually felt. She jumped to her leader’s right side and settled a few steps behind him, she inspected him absent-mindedly… there were no apparent injuries apart from the soreness she thought she saw in his shoulders. Stormstar was a strong tom, confident as well and confidence is exactly what they needed. The spotted cat closed her eyes and was greeted by a quick and flickering vision of fire, she quickly opened them… there was no comfort in darkness anyways.

Words: 631 words
Tags: ShadowClan
Notes: One down, two to go</sup>