Chapter Text
A small dark brown tabby kit was dreaming of being a respected warrior of his clan, Flowerclan, when the voice of one of his littermates broke through the cheers of his clan mates calling his name.
“Daggerkit! Wake up! Rainstar is making Willowclaw’s kits apprentices!” a small grey she-cat with light green eyes purred. Daggerkit noticed that Willowclaw was still asleep with her kits curled against her.
“Warmkit? Willowclaw is still asleep,” yawned Daggerkit, looking at his littermate.
“It was a dream, was it not?” asked his sister, looking at her paws.
“Maybe, your destiny is to be a medicine cat, like you want to be?” suggested Daggerkit.
“But why is Starclan sharing an apprentice ceremony with me?” asked Warmkit.
“Starclan works in mysterious ways, Warmkit,” Daggerkit yawned, hoping that his sister would go back to sleep.
He was used to his sister acting odd, especially at night. He noticed that his sister had not laid down in the nest.
“Warmkit? What is wrong?” asked Daggerkit, nudging his littermate’s head so she would meet his gaze.
“I cannot help what I see in dreams, Daggerkit. Sometimes, I see blood coating the camp and our clanmates looking thin. I see red eyes from the Large Rock and a hawk covered in blood flying overhead.
Daggerkit, can you promise me that no matter what, you will be a respected warrior?” asked Warmkit.
“I promise that nothing terrible will happen to our clan when I am a warrior,” purred Daggerkit. He nudged his sister towards their other littermates and curled up next to their mother.
He noticed how their father ignored him and he wanted to know why. Was it because he was smaller than his siblings? Or was his father, Rainstar, afraid? He did not know, and it made him worried.
Warmkit’s bouts of wisdom seem to distract him from the odd glare from their father. He would never tell anyone about some of his dreams.
He often had dreams of a pale tabby she-cat laying in a pool of blood, but the eyes haunted him deeply. They were the same green as Warmkit’s eyes.
He would hear a voice congratulating him on killing the pale cat and call him another name of Howling.
Sometimes, he got the feeling he knew Warmkit on a deeper level, like they had been alive together once before.
But there was no way that they were old souls in newer bodies. He sighed and rested his head on Lightkit’s back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~LINE BREAK~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A moon had passed and Daggerkit was listening to his new friend, Hawkkit, a Flameclan kit who was staying with Flowerclan while her mother recovered, talking about her future goals.
“What about you, Daggerkit? What do you want to be when you are older?” asked Hawkkit.
“I am going to be the best warrior that Flowerclan has ever seen!” replied Daggerkit.
“Don’t you want to be the Clan Leader? Imagine the two of us, both Leaders of Flowerclan and Flameclan! Don’t you want to show your clan that being small does not mean you are weak?” asked Hawkkit.
“My clan do not think I am weak because I am small!” gasped Daggerkit.
“That is not what I have heard while I wait for my mother to be healed enough to return to Flameclan. They all give you glares when you are looking away. That Daggerkit is too weak to become a warrior.
And the worst part is Rainstar agrees with them! He favours Lightkit, Sleetkit and Warmkit over you! But if you became leader after your father, you could show them you are not weak!
You can trick your father into making you his next deputy and then kill him once he trusts you,” suggested Hawkkit.
Daggerkit was thinking on Hawkkit’s future plan, when he saw horrified green eyes in the entrance of the nursery.
“Warmkit! She heard you!” hissed Daggerkit. He saw Hawkkit look him in the eyes, and he felt lighter.
“Silence her!” hissed Hawkkit’s voice.
Daggerkit blinked and found himself in the nursery, looking at the still body of Warmkit. He saw dead green eyes stare at him, and he felt something heavy in his belly.
He looked down at his paws, only to find them coated in blood. In his sister’s blood. He killed Warmkit. His sister had joined Starclan at five moons old because of him.
What would his mother say? What about his father, Sleetkit and Lightkit? Would Warmkit hate him from Starclan? What about her dream of being a medicine cat?
He felt like he was running out of air to breathe, and his ears were ringing. He had to hide how Warmkit had died. What if he pretended to be sleeping this whole time?
He tried to curl up and sleep, but his dreams were of the pale tabby cat again.
“Well done, Howlingwolf. Warmstar is clan leader no more. But our partnership must end. It is nothing personal, dear Howlingwolf. I cannot be associated with the murderer of Roseclan’s second Leader. After all, I must gain my nine lives and name.
Goodbye, Howlingwolf, but no one needs to know the truth about me,” the harsh voice he often heard hissed, clearer than before. He felt teeth on his throat and felt someone place a ghostly paw on his.
“My dear Howlingwolf. Look at you now. Tainted by Sin and dying. I warned you about Teastripe. She cannot be trusted. Now Roseclan will be punished by my grandmother,” he heard a gentle voice whisper.
He looked up to see the pale tabby.
Then he heard a yowl of sorrow and woke up to his mother, Silvershine, yowling over Warmkit’s lifeless body. Daggerkit felt the heavy feeling in his belly grow.
“Silvershine? Is something wrong?” Rainstar asked as he entered the den. “Warmkit is gone!” yowled Silvershine. Daggerkit felt even worse as his father bowed his head low.
“First Gingerkit and now Warmkit. Have I done something to anger Starclan?” meowed Rainstar. The murderer watched as his clan mourned Warmkit.
“You did this! You killed your only true friend! I guess a wolf never changes his howls,” hissed a cold voice in his ear. He turned to see the pale tabby cat from his dreams, glaring at him.