Mistystar's Omen Read Free

splash against the shore, when Mistyfoot woke. The den was pale with dawn light that flickered as the branches of the rowan tree swayed in the breeze. Beside Mistyfoot, Leopardstar was cold and still. Mistyfoot rested her muzzle on the old cat’s head, then slipped out of the den and padded through the sleeping camp down to the shore. She stared over the choppy gray water, wondering if Leopardstar had joined their ancestors yet.
    Paw steps behind her made Mistyfoot turn. Mothwing was stepping carefully over the stones. “Leopardstar is dead,” the medicine cat announced.
    â€œI know,” Mistyfoot meowed. She closed her eyes against the rush of pain. She felt Mothwing come to stand beside her, spilling warmth and softness from her fur. “I don’t feel ready to lead this Clan,” Mistyfoot confessed in a whisper without opening her eyes. “How can I follow in Leopardstar’s footsteps?”
    Mothwing rested her tail on Mistyfoot’s back. “You are more than ready,” she promised. “Think of the path you have traveled so far. You have seen more than most cats ever will in their lifetime.”
    â€œThat’s because I am old,” Mistyfoot pointed out. “Blackclaw was only a few seasons older than me! Sometimes I feel as if I have outstayed my welcome here, as if I should be walking in StarClan with Stonefur by now.”
    â€œThat’s mouse-brained, and you know it,” Mothwing retorted. “You have a long life yet to live. Nine long lives, in fact.”
    Nine lives! For a heartbeat, Mistyfoot felt overwhelmed with tiredness. How would she find enough energy to lead her Clan when she could barely move her paws? Would she have a chance to feel sad about Leopardstar’s death, with so much to do? Mothwing seemed to sense her hesitation.
    â€œThere will be plenty of time to grieve for Leopardstar. I will be here whenever you need me. You are not alone, Mistyfoot. You must summon our Clanmates; tell them about Leopardstar. You are their leader now, and they need you as much as they needed Leopardstar.”
    Keeping her tail on Mistyfoot’s spine, Mothwing led her back to the camp. Mistyfoot breathed in the delicate scent of herbs from her friend’s pelt and began to feel better. “I couldn’t do this without you,” she murmured.
    â€œNor should you have to,” Mothwing replied briskly. “I am your medicine cat, and I will do everything I can to help you.”
    The clearing was already filling up with cats, who circled anxiously, whispering. Mistyfoot jumped onto the broad willow stump outside Leopardstar’s den and called to her Clanmates. “Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words!” In spite of her grief, she couldn’t help feeling a rush of excitement as the cats stopped circling and settled on their haunches around the tree stump, gazing expectantly up at her. Mothwing was right! They see me as their leader even before I have been given my nine lives and my new name!
    â€œLeopardstar has gone to walk with StarClan,” she announced. A murmur of sadness spread through the cats like a gust of cold wind.
    â€œWe were lucky to have her as our leader for so many moons,” Graymist mewed. “She was brave and strong-willed on behalf of all of us.”
    â€œShe told me I was doing really well in my battle training,” the apprentice Mossypaw commented mournfully.
    Duskfur drew her kits closer with a sweep of her tail. “I had hoped she would live long enough to see these little ones become apprentices,” she sighed.
    Beetlewhisker stood up, his brown-and-white pelt gleaming in the early rays of the sun. “When will you be getting your nine lives?” he asked Mistyfoot.
    Mistyfoot winced. This was what she had been afraid of, that she would scarcely have time to draw breath—let alone mourn the former leader—before she was plunged into her new life. But