Chapter Text
Cast, without MistClan and Cast without NightClan and the rogues. And, The Carrd of my Clans!
A brown tabby molly sat atop a grassy ridge. Thin patches of mist weaved around her body as the air carried them along, though she hardly seemed to notice them. Her eyes were trained on a distant forest, residing above a deep gorge. Even though the territory was far out of her reach, she could still hear the faint roar of a river at the bottom of the ravine, its waters higher and its currents feral from the thaws of newleaf.
Slowly, the she-cat's gaze traveled across the land before her. From the southern harsh forest above the cliff, to the eastern, barren territory. A faint hint of green littered the otherwise desolate patch of land, promising new growths for the seasons to come. To the west, the long grass of marshy moorland swayed in the wind, and the molly thought that the motions mimicked the dancing of spirits in the breeze. To the northeast, another river winded through a patch of a forest, its tides mimicking those of the gorge to the south. Then, to the northwest, a much more thickly forested piece of land seemed to be in full bloom.
In the middle of the territory rested a massive tree, and hidden in its leaves was a sneaky twinkle that caught the eye of the brown tabby. She tilted her head and leaned forward, trying—and failing—to get a closer look. Far beyond the territories, the sun began to set faster than she had ever seen. It slowed down as crimson rays of light were cast over not only the forest, but the ridge where the brown tabby sat. The final clouds overhead split apart to highlight her with a much more intense light.
At least, she thought it was aimed at her. When she realized she wasn't sitting under the warm embrace of the sunset, she turned to see what exactly was captured by its light. Next to her was a patch of silver ragwort, its fuzzy leaves stained red by the light that shone upon it.
No sooner than she saw it, the breeze began to pick up until it had reached torrential speeds. The she-cat unsheathed her claws and dug them into the soil beneath her, as if she were holding on for dear life. Masses of clouds rolled across the sky, blotting out the blood-red sheen that the sunset had cast over everything. The plant, however, remained stained red, its leaves eerily still in the stinging winds that weaved around the she-cat.
Almost as soon as it had started, the wind ceased without warning. Even the clouds high above had screeched to a halt, though the loomed threateningly overhead.
"A great storm, given countless seasons to fester, will soon wreak havoc on the Clans."
The tone of a thousand voices rang out, nearly deafening the molly. Far on the horizon, black storm clouds swirled together and crept menacingly across the sky. They snuffed out every light source, sending a dark shadow across all land in sight—but the ragwort remained red. Just when the brown-furred she-cat thought she would suffocate from the darkness, thunder rattled the earth and lightning tore a path across the sky. As if on cue, the clouds released a burst of rain. The droplets fell so hard that they bounced back off the ground by a hair, creating a sheen of mist along the earth.
The brown tabby squinted through the blinding, pouring rain, and stiffened when she saw that the rain was washing away the vermillion shades that stained the silver ragwort. A few final gusts of wind shoved the molly around before receding, followed closely by the rain, and then the dark clouds. The sun peeked out from the clouds—higher in the sky now, with glorious golden rays bursting from it. A few of these rays were directed to the soaking she-cat and the plant next to her, which she noticed glittered in the new light.
She took a few deep breaths as she tried to ground herself. Slowly, she took a step backwards to sit down—a step too far, she realized, as she slipped over the ledge of the ridge she had chosen and plummeted into nothingness.
With a start, she found herself awake in front of a pool that glittered with starlight. Around her sat four other cats, murmuring with each other cheerfully. Thin wisps of mist wrapped themselves around her as if to comfort her, while a small series of waterfalls rumbled reassuringly. Slowly, the molly sat up and looked around. As she did so, she realized that she'd been digging her claws into the edges of the pool, and that her companions were watching her worriedly.
"Rowanspots, are you okay?" asked a very dark grey molly.
"Yeah, you don't look too well," a fluffy ginger she-cat added, her gaze flitting across the brown tabby's form.
"What did you see?" a pale brown tom whispered urgently, his eyes wide as he waited for a response.
The brown tabby she-cat shook her head in an attempt to clear it. An unsettling sensation had taken hold of her, and she had to force air into her lungs with every breath. When she finally managed a response, her voice was raspy and strained.
"I . . . I think I just received a prophecy,"