Warriors: Omen of the Stars #2: Fading Echoes

a creative fantasy full of bravery, friendship, and doubt. readers will be hooked by this masterpiece.
-ursula murray-bozeman

Chapter 2:

Copperfang raced out of Tumblestar’s musty den to the queen in distress. She was wailing and yowling. A crowd had started to gather around her and Copperfang had to push through them to get to the queen. Upon closer inspection she realized it was her sister, Quailheart. She had recently kitted her first liter… the liter that is now said to be dead. Copperfang felt her sister’s grief building up and wanted to wail along with her. But she has to stay strong, after all… she was the deputy, she had to stay strong for the clan. “Everyone move away from Quailheart. Give her space please.” She ordered. The warriors and queens that had gathered around them started backing off to give her sister room. All Copperfang could think of to do was sit down next to Quailheart and nuzzle her, brushing her tail along her sister’s spine to calm her down. At last her sister mumbled, “why me? Why me Copperfang? My kits deserved to grow up to be warriors.” She choked out. “Do you know who killed them?” She asked her sister. “N-no, I assume a fox….” she stuttered. Copperfang saw eyes glint out of the shadows of the warriors den, malicious eyes… She twitched her ears in dismissal. But… what if it was a clanmate that had killed her sister’s liter? She closed her eyes, thinking, until a yowl broke her thoughts. “All cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the highrock for a clan meeting!” Her eyes flew open and she and her sister walked to the clearing where the rest of the clan gathered. “Today some of our youngest clanmates have died, Quailheart’s kits, Brakenkit, Featherkit, and Mistkit. Tonight we will sit vigil for these kits. Three warriors carefully carried the bloody bodies of the dead kits out to where the clan sat. Quailheart buried her head into Copperfang’s fur, not wanting to see her dead first liter. At that moment the hunting patrol trotted through the camp entrance, laden with prey, along with the border patrol. As soon as they got into camp they sensed the sadness that hung in the air. Berrystripe, Quailheart’s mate ran over to her rubbing his muzzle along her pelt, comforting her at this treacherous news. The limb bodies of the kits sat in the middle of a circle of warriors, queens, Tumblestar and Sandfeather, the medicine cat.
The moon hung high in the air as cat began to gather and sit. The eerie silence of the camp felt peaceful almost, compared to the constant chatter of day. Hours passed and still no one spoke a single word. Quailheart and Berrystripe sat closest to the kits and Copperfang a bit farther away but still closer than the rest of her clanmates. An owl hooted in the distance, but that was still the only noise besides the rustle of paws.

Chapter 3:

The sun rose over the stones circling the camp and the clan stirred, stiff from the long cold night. A patrol carried out the tiny bodies of the kits to be buried, and Copperfang watched them sadly, thinking about how they would never get the chance to be warriors. Again she felt the stab of greif that her sister is probably feeling right now. She got up, stuff but stable as her belly rumbled for food. She walked over to the fresh-kill pile and grabbed a nice fat rabbit to share with her sister. Her sister was staring numbly at her paws and barely even looked up when Copperfang walked up to her and set down the fat rabbit. The sun was just starting to warm up the camp when a loud “CRACK” echoed around the camp, something had broken. Every cat turned their heads to see what had cracked. It wasn’t visible from an angle but by craning her neck she could see through the brambles, a small figure clinging on to a dangling branch over a rapidly moving river. “My apprentice!” Cried Coyotespots. In fact it was Dustpaw, Coyotespots’ apprentice.
Another figure dashed away mysteriously from the scene. “Come on!” Exclaimed Coyotespots, “We have to go save my apprentice!” He wailed. Copperfang still had her mind fixed on the mysterious cat that had run away from the branch, were they the one that set up this accident? She shook her head to clear it and stood up signaling to Honeyfoot and Coyotespots to follow her. They sprinted out of the camp entrance and skidded to a stop by the broken branch hanging over the gorge with the scrawny apprentice hanging on for dear life. “Hang on!” She called to Dustpaw, then she sprinted to a grassy area so she could grab a stick to get the apprentice to hold onto. Copperfang picked up a nice thick stick and ran back to where the apprentice was still dangling. She slowly lowered the stick over the edge so the apprentice could grip it and they could pull Dustpaw safely out. Dustpaw gripped the stick and she slowly directed the two other warriors to help pull the stick up to the safe area of grass. They managed to pull up the stick onto the land and the apprentice scrabbled at the earth for a second before pulling herself up, gasping for breath. Coyotespots rushed to his apprentices side and flanked her, Honeyfoot did the same. The three warriors and shaking apprentice padded back into camp where Sandfeather was waiting with a mouthful of leaves. Coyotespots relaxed and let his apprentice be taken to the medicine den.

Copperfang curled up closer to Dovesong in the warriors’ den as the moon began to rise above the stony hills and after that days exhausting tasks she was ready to sleep for a moon.
Her dreams were strange and mixed, sometimes clear but mostly cloudy. One dream was of falling a very long way… maybe 40 tail lengths and another of floating. Copperfang thought these were very unusual dreams and when she woke up…. Her eyes stung and she couldn’t breath, her fur was wet and she was floating! Then she realized, she was in the gorge.

“Lost? What do you mean, lost?” Nightfall hissed. The two kits backed up quickly and Nightfall relaxed a little to not frighten the two kits. “Go back to Mouseflight and send Lionwing please.” She could barely speak calmly but it was good enough because Sagekit’s fur smoothed out and she led her sister away.
Nightfall waited impatiently for her mate and after a few heartbeats of his absence, she decided to search for Berrykit alone. He couldn’t have gotten far. She ran forward, sticking her nose up in the air for his scent. She smelt it easily and followed it westward. It led over thick growth and even crossed stale twoleg scent but they never crossed after that. Berrykit must have wandered off really far because Nightfall could find no end to his scent trail. Until she did, of course. It was almost twilight when she caught a mist spray on her pelt. She looked up, and saw a River. Berrykit’s trail went straight through it. Nightfall trembled so violently that she could hardly stand. His dream the night before from Starclan. Was it just a coincidence? No more time for thinking. She lunged into the icy depths and dove under. The current was too storing and the water wasn’t clear enough to see in. She bobbed her head helplessly above the water, just be pushed back under again. She yowled her son’s name countless times, and it soon became too dark to see. That’s when she felt it. She was still finding it hard to swim, but she somehow made it to a shallower part and hauled herself to she Sandy bank. A tuft of her briefly touched her hind leg. She immediately dove under again and hauled the fur bundle with her teeth. She brought it to the shore.
It was Berrykit. His fur matte black, his eyes closed and his body was broken. The rocks beneath the surface and the colliding water probably did this. Even though Nightfallk knew that her kit was dead she still meowed pleadingly. “Wake up, Berrykit! Wake up or you’ll get sick from the cold!” Silence.
What an awful way to die for a poor kit. He was just curious. Nightfall began to yowl with such a fierce pain that eventually, Lionwing found her, wet and kneeling beside her son’s dead body.

Chapter 3 in the next book of this series.