The sea beat relentless on the shore, spraying salt and foam upon the ancient she-cat sitting alone on the damp sand, her face turned up to the sky. At her back, the driftwood dens in which her clanmates, all younger than she, slept peacefully were silent and still.
"Seeking council from StarClan?" A voice came from behind her, but if the medicine cat heard, she made no indication to respond, her yellow eyes, one clouded by cataracts, fixed upon the skies above. A beautiful silver she-cat with an air of royalty about her sat beside the ancient medicine cat. Their furs matched in hue, but that is where their similarities ceased. The elder of the two had long, tangled fur, matted around her paws with sand and bits of kelp. The younger was the Clan's leader, and her pelt was sleek, healthy, her whiskers and tail long like banners, and scars decorated her long legs. "Creepingwillow? I said-"
"I heard you," the old medicine cat mewed in a cracked, dry voice. "They're being stubborn," she accused the stars. The leader purred her amusement.
"Are they?"
"Mmhmm... Even my own sisters aren't piping up, and you remember Snowshell used to love her own voice." The younger she-cat again purred at the memory of the old queen that had passed away only eight moons ago, who certainly had enjoyed talking the ears off any apprentice willing to listen. "Haven't heard a single thing from up above in almost two moons. Must be waiting to tell me nose to nose."
"Oh, now don't say that," the younger cat mewed in worry. "I'm not ready to lose such a trusted friend."
"Well, Softstar, I'd warm up to the idea if I were you," Creepingwillow creaked, then coughed, her breath rattling. "It'll be a blessing if I see Leafbare."
"You say that every year," Softstar countered, "and yet you live on and on, the second oldest cat in all the Clans, and by far one of the healthiest."
"Bah. My luck will run out one day soon," Creepingwillow replied, hunching her shoulders slightly as a particularly strong wind sent a chill over the waves.
"As will happen to each of us in our turn," meowed Softstar thoughtfully. After a moment she stood and shook the loose sand from her fur. "I'll see you at sunrise. Try to get some sleep, my friend."
Creepingwillow grunted softly in reply, turning her gaze up just as a shooting star flickered across Silverpelt, vanishing so quickly it would have been missed in a single blink. "Aaah, there they are." She got to her feet and mewed softly in pain as her stiff back legs ached. Softstar paused on her way back to her den, ears pricking up.
"Anything of interest?"
"A prophecy," Creepingwillow answered, as though it was as casual a thing as the tides.
"A Prophecy?" Softstar turned, her full attention on the medicine cat now. "What did they say?" Creepingwillow shook the sand from her fur and began to limp slightly towards her own den, sighing a little before she replied.
"'The forest thickens its hold, and nothing else can grow. Listen for an echo.' It was meant for Puddleweed, from RainClan. I only hope she's seen it." At hearing it was not meant for her Clan, Softstar's ears drooped a bit in disappointment, though she could make no sense of it anyways.
"Oh. Well, the Gathering is in a few days, and we can ask her then."
"You can ask her," Creepingwillow sniffed. "I'm getting too old to make my way to Gatherings. You best remember it." The ancient she-cat ducked into her den then and said no more. Softstar looked up at the night sky as a wave crashed just before her paws.
"'Listen for an echo...' Let's hope we hear it soon."
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