Dark Clouds (Book I)

I

Now

Stormshade purred as he sank into his nest. It had been a long day, and a tinge of satisfaction wormed its way into his stomach as he rolled onto his back, watching the stars overhead. 

"Goodnight," came a hushed whisper. A brown tom slunk past him, ears flicking. "Try not to snore this time." 

Stormshade chuckled. "Only if you don't kick me again," he murmured. Curling up, he added, "Sleep well, Swiftleap."

With that, he closed his eyes, allowing darkness to embrace him. 

Slowly, like a calming storm, the darkness receded, revealing a perfect, rolling field. Rabbits loped through the grass ahead, darting into a collection of lush ferns. The sun shone, but instead of blistering heat Stormshade felt a cool, soft breeze ruffling his fur.

"Welcome." An unfamiliar voice caught the WindClan warrior off guard. A grey tom was peering at him from ahead, his eyes bright. Stars danced around his paws.  

Stormshade flinched, his breath hitching. "You scared me!" Licking his chest self-consciously, he added, "Who are you?" 

"Your ancestor." The grey tom dipped his head, ears flicking.

I'm in StarClan?  Stormshade fell onto his haunches, paws tingling. "...Am I dead?"

"Fortunately not," the ancestor mewed wryly. "We wanted to tell you something." 

Stormshade paused to lick his shoulder fur, burning with embarrassment. He must be disappointed. "What is it?" 

An amused grin seemed to tug at the StarClan warrior's lips, though after a moment he restrained it with visible difficulty. "I have a warning for you." Padding to Stormshade's side, he gently steered him towards a shining pond.

"It's not good news." The StarClan warrior extended a paw, flicking a piece of debris from Stormshade's chest. It landed in the pond, causing the perfectly smooth water to ripple gently. "WindClan will face many challenges in the future," he explained. "Everyone will."

Stormshade's heart sank. "What should I do?" 

"Gather what remains," the Ancestor instructed, "And turn the embers into a raging fire. But first..." he broke off, leaning towards his descendant. Stormshade felt his soft breath billow into his ear. "Good intentions shall lead the noblest among you into darkness." 

Stormshade blinked, stumbling away from him. "What do you mean?" 

The Ancestor shrugged, dipping his head reverently. His frame began to grow transparent, and he merely dipped his head. "Make us proud." 

* * *

"Two fighting styles?" Hailpaw's mew was incredulous. "That's ridiculous!"

Stormshade was broken from his thoughts at his apprentice's words. Suppressing a sigh, he strolled around his apprentice confidently. "Hailpaw, we're tunnellers." Gesturing at the young tom's broad shoulders, he mewed, "Moor-runners are usually smaller than us, so they're trained to compensate for their smaller size."

"How?" Hailpaw tilted his head quizzically.

"They use our weight and momentum to their advantage," Stormshade replied matter-of-factly. "They like to do hit-and-run attacks, so it's very difficult to get a hit in. That's why, even though you're a tunneler, you still need to be quick on your paws."

Hailpaw scuffed the ground in front of him with a forepaw. "I guess."

"So," Stormshade meowed, "In other words, runners are both annoying in battle and in peacetime."