This page contains a fan fiction written by Cindersnakepaw.
This page contains the opinions of the original author(s), and is not patrolled for factual accuracy.
Remember that this story is non-canon. It may contain false characters, plots, or locations.
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Pretty Little Kittens Who Lie by (Cinderstar) Snakepaw

Fanfiction → Warriors (cats) by Erin Hunter

Starting date: 22 september 2014

BIGnewCOVER lyingkit

Cover (new version)


Seasons after the end of Tigerstar’s reign of terror and the victory against the savage BloodClan, trouble is back in the forest. Ghosts from the past are showing up and the dead are coming back. But is it real? Or are is everything an elaborate lie? Every cats wants to save their clans. However, some can’t keep secrets…


Warriors Series novels with all the cats are the property of Erin Hunter and I don't own anything. Nor does the books and TV show Pretty Little Liars, but I'll use their concept of dirty secrets, conspiracy and blackmail for this story.

NOTE: To avoid spoilers, you must have read the first Warriors serie (from "Into the wild" to"Darkest hour") and the second serie The New Prophecy, and the standalone manga "The Rise of Scourge", AND the short manga volumes of "Tigerstar and Sasha".

This fanfiction takes place at the beginning of The New Prophecy. To tell the truth, I haven't finish reading the second serie, and I KNOW that the main cats are on a mission far from the forest, but for this fanfic, let's pretend they never left and there's no prophecy, okay?

I don't know a lot about Hawkfrost and some others, so I'm sorry if they appear a bit out of character.

Unlike Rise of the Kittypets, the chapters won't be out every week, maybe more like once a month. Plus, the chapters are longer!

Again, english is NOT my first language so even if I re-read all of this 3000 times, there will still be some mistakes. If you stumble upon horrible mispellings in the texts, please tell me right away so I can fix them. Thank you!

Thank You for reading! :)

Chapter One: Ghost of a tiger

“Graystripe, I’ve seen him. I swear, it was him.”

Firestar paced nervously in a circle inside his dimly lit den, his frantic paws digging a track in the dust. He wasn’t sure if he was victim of a trick of his mind, a prophecy revealed by StarClan, or, he feared, a nightmare come to life. Last night, he could not remember if he had been walking within a really vivid dream or if he had been truly prowling unconsciously the familiar forest. It was so confusing. And inconceivable. Unrealistic. How could it be possible? He must be mistaken. But… What he saw… He could not ignore it. He could not keep the information to himself, no matter how unthinkable.

“Are you SURE it wasn’t Brambleclaw?”

The orange tom glared at the broad shouldered warrior like this was a statement crazier than his back-from-the-dead story. His gray friend gave him a look of apologies.

“Still, it was dark… You know, maybe you did not see well and…” began Graystripe but Firestar would not hear it.

“At first, I thought I was dreaming, that I was sleeping in my den… But I could feel the wind on my pelt, smell the crisp air of the cold night. The leaves felt crunchy under my steps. That couldn’t have been a dream. And StarClan’s visions are never so… clear. It had to be real, Graystripe!”

“Even so… You said that you did not remember how you got there in the first place”

“Cinderpelt said that it might have been StarClan who had led me there, then I woke up to witness what they had wanted to show me.”

“Oh? So she believes you?” asked Graystripe, skeptical.

Firestar wasn’t sure whether the medic believed his lunatic tale or not. She had understood the part where he woke up in the middle of the wild forest, not knowing why he was not in his den anymore, but it was unclear if she thought that Tigerstar was alive or not. As far as he was concerned, it was more likely that she acknowledged the image of Tigerstar as a mirage, an illusion sent as an omen from their warrior ancestors.

“Kind of.” he mumbled finally.

The ThunderClan deputy stared past his leader thoughtfully, reflecting. It was clear that Graystripe was trying his best to believe his longtime companion, then he shook his fluffy head vigorously.

“Okay, okay… Let’s all start over again. From the beginning. With as much detail as you can. So, you woke up on your way to Fourtrees, right? Then, you...”

Firestar did what he was asked and went over the events of last night for the second or third time today. After his evening patrol with Brackenfur and Sorreltail, he took a quick meal before going to bed early, exhausted from his day. He fell asleep into a dreamless slumber until, he couldn’t figure out, he was padding on fallen leaves and branches and woke up a couple of foxlengths away from the Gathering place. It was cold and foggy, but he was definitely outside his warm den and not drowsing like he was supposed to. Silverpelt shone brightly up in the sky and the moon cast its shining beams toward the four greater oaks. Being a sign of their ancestors or not, Firestar could not ignore the moon bathed clearing and went to investigate. It was there, on the large rock where only the leaders stand, that he saw HIM. His old enemy who had died seasons ago. The traitor. The tyrant. The murderer. Tigerstar. He stood proudly on the rock, high and mighty with defiance and greed flashing in his amber eyes. He looked big and menacing. Not pale and silvery like the ghost of the deceased warriors. Tigerstar was flesh and blood, his dark tabby pelt glowing nearly gold in the shadows. He did not say a thing. Nor did Firestar, too stunned by the eerie appearance of his dead rival. Suddenly, clouds washed over the moon and hid the muscular tom in its darkness, letting only his luminescent pupils float in the black of the night. When the clouds had passed, Tigerstar was gone and Firestar had to go back to the ThunderClan camp on shaky legs, trembling from this ghostly encounter.

The deputy had listened carefully without interruption and when his leader had finished, nothing in his expression showed that he was understanding of the situation.

“Did you tell Sandstorm about this?” he inquired after a pause.

“No.” admitted Firestar, troubled and worried, shaking the goosebumps out of his back fur nervously.

“Well… She’s not going to like this.”

Chapter Two: Denied truth

As Graystripe had predicted, Sandstorm didn’t like it one bit. When he had gone over his nocturnal adventure again, with his lover, this time, the ThunderClan leader was hoping she would find a rational part in those incredible issues like Cinderpelt had, or say that he had mistaken another cat for the former ShadowClan leader, but he had never thought that she would question his sanity. She looked at him like she would look at an elder who was losing his mind, who would hear and see things that were not there. The tale he told made her angry and she denied it all, like nothing had happened and suggested that he do the same for his own sake. It would be easy to ignore what he saw. Still, what if he was really back? In that case, they would be in serious danger. Not only his clan, but all the clans. Tigerstar had been a threat to every living cat of the forest and beyond. He had to warn everyone. That was the reasonable thing to do. Moreover, he had to inform the other leaders.

“Firestar?” The small voice came from outside his den and he meowed his permission to enter. A slim, pale brownish, tabby she-cat approached him.

“Yes, Leafpaw?” he asked his daughter.

“Sandstorm said you’re not feeling well.” said the medic apprentice, shyly. Cinderpelt had assured her that her father was fine and just had a bad dream, but she wanted to see for herself.

“I’m okay.” he reassured her. “Can you fetch Brambleclaw for me, please? There’s something I need to discuss with him.”

She meowed softly in agreement and disappeared by the mouth of his nest where he saw another cat, a dark brown tabby with amber eyes, entered not long after.

“You wanted to see me, Firestar?” asked Brambleclaw.

“Sit down.” he invited him, gesturing to the space in front of his bedding with his nose, “You might not believe me, however, I swear over all of our ancestors, I saw Tigerstar. Alive.”

The young warrior, so physically alike his cruel father, blinked without uttering a word. Surely, this was a joke. Firestar was testing him somehow, even though it was not like him to do such harsh loyalty check.

Brambleclaw was saved from answering properly this impossible statement, when a black cat crashed into the ThunderClan leader’s den at full speed. The dark furred tom stopped abruptly beside him, his pelt ruffled and his eyes opened like huge yellow balls. The newcomer was out of breath and before he could recover, it was Graystripe’s turn to join the group.

“Ravenpaw!” cried the deputy, “What’s wrong! You flew like your tail was on fire!”

“It’s worse than that, Graystripe! Guys, you’re not going to believe me! But, I swear, it’s the truth!”

“What is it?! Tell us already!” Firestar yelled, losing his nerves, impatient to learn the dreaded news. Was it the same as him? Could it be…

Ravenpaw breathed loudly before spilling the impossible words: “Tigerstar is alive.”

The whole group of cats fell silent. The loner had seen him too! It was all true.

“I knew it!” Firestar exclaimed at last, puffing his chest, victorious.

“You did?!” wondered the black cat, surprised.

“Yes. At Fourtrees, two nights ago. StarClan showed me the way.” explained the leader.

Graystripe was uneasy on his paws, his nervous eyes switching restlessly between his two old apprenticehood friends.

“A rogue, who used to be part of BloodClan, came to our barn and told us that he caught sight of Tigerstar. Of course, we thought he was saying rubbish, but then I saw him myself! Near WindClan territory! He was… standing there, in the sunlight, distinct against the stony path. At first, I wasn’t sure, you know. Maybe it’s just some loner that happened to be similar, but Firestar, he looked at me, the way he always had… It was him.”

Ravenpaw was shaking with emotion while the younger warrior was completely stunned by the story. His father? Back from the dead?

“I… I don’t understand. What....” he began, but the ThunderClan leader furiously turned on him, showing his sharp teeth.

“I--WE saw your father. Tigerstar.”

“I… don’t know what to say, Firestar.”

“Try telling me what you will do about it, Brambleclaw!” he growled, suddenly angry, like he was facing his newly returned enemy and not his innocent son.

What was he supposed to do? What exactly was his old mentor implying? That this was somehow his fault? That he had helped him in some way? That he would go to him? How could he think such a thing? After all that he taught him. Brambleclaw was deeply wounded, nonetheless, he could not manage a single word to defend himself. Sensing the young, dark brown tabby’s uneasiness and perhaps regretting yelling at him, the flames in Firestar’s green eyes faded and he dismissed him less aggressively. “You can leave now.”

Brambleclaw did not waste another heartbeat. He bolted out of the leader’s den, running with his head low, not wanting to meet any cat’s stare. Suddenly, he found himself crashing into a ball of deep orange pelt and the two cats rolled over on the yellowish grass, their bodied tangled.

“WOAH! Where do you think you were going in such a rush? Are you blind or just stupid!” cried a high pitched voice belonging to a pestering she-cat who kicked him with her hind legs. She scrambled to her paws and furiously licked her chest fur. He had collided into Squirrelpaw, Firestar’s difficult daughter. “Or you might just be mute?”

Brambleclaw looked up at her with an expression of such dismay that even someone as arrogant as the flame coated apprentice was taken aback, pity squeezing her stomach.

She flinched for a moment and when she spoke again, her tone was still hard, but more considerate, betraying her disguised kindness.

“What? Are… Are you going to mewl like a wimpy kit? Get a grip, Brambleclaw!”

The warrior tom did not answer right away, clearing his thoughts and recovering from his outburst, unfazed by her fake provocative words.

“Sorry… I didn’t see you back there.”

The hot-tempered she-cat gave him a suspicious glare. “So?! Are you going to tell me which cat bit your tail or what?”

Brambleclaw, calmer now, whispered to her in a hushed voice about his meeting with the clan leader, the deputy and the loner. When he finished,  her sole response was a mere shrug, as if it was no big deal.

“Really?” He frowned.

“If my father says so, then it’s good enough for me. Or are you saying he’s a liar?” scowled Squirrelpaw.

That was not what he intended, though he wished that was the case.

Chapter Three: A black and white shadow

The next day, it was time to tell the three other leaders. Firestar had charged Ravenpaw with the task of warning WindClan, and Graystripe of RiverClan, so it was up to him to travel to ShadowClan. He had asked Ashfur that morning, who was part of the dawn patrol to the ShadowClan border, to give a message to a passing rival patrol that he wanted to meet their leader at Fourtrees at sunhigh. Once the request successfully delivered, Ashfur reported to him and the ThunderClan leader went on his way to the Gathering place. The journey did not take him very long, and he arrived early to discover that his fellow leader was already waiting.

“This better be important.” growled Blackstar, obviously not thrilled about this impromptu rendezvous, as Firestar appeared out of a thick bush, the sunlight illuminating his coat of flame. He settled himself on a warm rock next to the unhappy ShadowClan leader. Tired of repeating the same tale over and over, the ThunderClan leader went straight to the point: “I’ve seen Tigerstar.”

The white tom with the black paws blinked at him.

“Are you completely mad?”

He flinched a little at the hard tone used by Blackstar, even though he had expected such  reaction from the obnoxious cat.

“I… I know it sounds unbelievable…” Firestar began, but was cut short by the white cat’s mumblings.

“That does not even begin to describe it.”

Nonetheless, he continued more confidently, as if he hadn’t heard the other: “But, I thought it was my duty to report it to you. It's your choice to trust me or not.”

“You’re insane.” concluded the unpleasant ShadowClan leader.

“My loner friend Ravenpaw and his acquaintances could vouch otherwise.”

Seeing that the ThunderClan leader was adamant about his crazy tale, the black and white cat sighed audibly and shook his head with strong disapproval. Nothing would convince him, thought Firestar.

“I had to warn you. And, now, I have. So, what you do now with this information is your business.”

“We were there, Firestar! Or have you forgotten?” spat Blackstar, furious and disgusted by the lies perturbing the orange tom’s mind.

No, he hadn’t. Of course not. How could he? That scene will be forever engraved in his memory and in his heart. Tigerstar’s death. He had a disgraceful death. A reckless death. Far from the noble fight between grand Clan leaders that he would have preferred. There were no words to describe the way that tiny savage black cat just sliced him open in front of every living cat of the forest. As easily as a RiverClan cat would claw the belly of a fish. He would never forget that day. And neither would any cat who was present.

“Good day, Blackstar.”

And the ThunderClan leader left as he had come, leaving the fuming tom to ponder alone on his disbelief of his former leader’s unimaginable resurrection.


“Tawnypelt, you're coming with us for the evening patrol.” snapped the ShadowClan leader, passing in front of the warriors’ den, where the she-cat was napping peacefully.

Instead of being grumpy for the brisk wake-up, she yawned and stretched, content to be chosen for the task. She was always pleased to be part of missions and patrols so she can prove herself to her adopted Clan. Even better if their leader himself was present to witness her efforts.

As the trio of ShadowClan cats walked along the mud covered path, the sun was disappearing and the moon rose in the darkening sky. Blackstar had wondered all afternoon if he should share Firestar's insanity with Tawnypelt. He might not trust the ginger tom, but it was not his place to deny the daughter of the defunct Tigerstar the right to know about the possibility of his return. Now, watching her prowl the shadows of their territory, her tortoiseshell coat turning gray by the night, he didn’t feel like telling her anymore. She would probably think that he was as mouse-brained as the ThunderClan leader for even mentioning it.

“Something wrong?” she asked, puzzled at the strange way he was peering at her since they had left camp. “You…”

She was about to accuse him of unfairly suspecting her of charges she was innocent of, again, and that he was wrong to even consider it, when a sound broke the silence of the sleeping forest. The three cats stopped abruptly in their tracks and listened carefully. Blackstar went rigid, focusing on a spot far away in front of them. The fur on his back rose up and he unsheathed his claws from his black paws. The noises came from different directions: pawsteps. They could make out the soft padding of at least three animals, perhaps five. Cats? The ShadowClan leader gestured quietly with his nose to Tawnypelt to the right, to the other cat to the left, then, he took the front, advancing in a low crouch.

She nodded and followed the sound to her right, distancing herself from her Clanmates. A couple of foxlengths away, twigs were crushed and she drew her head up, scanning the dark trees. There, she saw the silhouette of a cat, too far from her to identify its scent, but definitely a cat. It had seen her too. No longer needing to be stealthy, she darted through the trees, ignoring her surroundings, dashing at full speed on the cold muddy soil.

Further away, the shadow walked slowly, turning around to make sure she was still on its track, until it entered a small clearing, disappearing into the black foliage. Tawnypelt jumped into the empty clearing, only to realize her careless mistake when it was too late.

Oh, no! Was it a trap? Could she have been more stupid!? The she-cat braced herself for an ambush of rogue cats, but instead, only one was present, the same she had chased. It was a male, huge. He remained shaded by low branches, hidden in the dark.

“Show yourself!” she demanded, bravely.

A deep meow resonated. He was laughing, mocking her.

The she-cat let out a furious yowl, threatening, ready to fight off the insolent intruder. The large tom laugh louder and swaggered his way out of hiding, revealing a dark brown tabby pelt, muscular shoulders and a chipped ear. His bright orange eyes, so familiar, flashed at her like burning ember.


Chapter Four: Fallen leaves on the ground

The imposing tom halted for a moment and gazed at his daughter with satisfaction, savoring the horrified expression on her tawny face. Was she dreaming? Surely, it could not be her father. Not alive. Breathing and frightening. Yet, here he was, his dark tabby pelt made glossy by the moonlight, and his eye the color of the radiant glow of a fire. He looked deadly. She was too shocked for words and did not back away when he approached her, one long clawed paw in front of the other, stopping only a tail-length from her.

"It's... really you." Tawnypelt managed to say, as a fact, not a question.

The tom who stood before her was Tigerstar.

“Can you keep a secret, my daughter?”


Tigerstar had let Tawnypelt go without any harm, the fear of his ominous presence a far better warning than wounds from a fight. On the other hand, she was not going to keep quiet about his magical recovery. How did he accomplish such an exploit in the first place? That night, when she had returned to camp, she waited for Blackstar to be alone and told him of her encounter with her father. Her leader barely had any reaction, he acknowledged her story and that was all. Disappointed and upset, she turned to the only cat in the forest that she could trust: her brother.

“B… But! Was it truly HIM? What about his scent? Did you recognize it?” meowed her brother, once she had gone over last night’s episode with him. He was not as surprised as she would have thought.

Tawnypelt sighed “Frankly, I don’t remember what he smelled like, Brambleclaw.”

They were standing near the border that separated both of their territories and Brambleclaw was nervous to be overheard. Not only was the ThunderClan leader right on Tigerstar’s case, but he had approached Tawnypelt for StarClan knows why. How would he explain it to Firestar, who already suspected him of working with his father? She could be accused of treason more than him.

"Have you told Blackstar, yet?" he asked, worried.

Tawnypelt nodded. "Yes, but... His expression was unreadable. For all we know, he doesn't give a rat's dropping about it."

Brambleclaw wondered if the ShadowClan leader genuinely did not care whether the greatest enemy of the forest was alive or not. Didn't he fear Tigerstar would demand the leadership of his Clan back?

“Will you tell Firestar?” Tawnypelt inquired seriously, staring at him with green eyes. Brambleclaw was torn for a moment and decided against it, afraid to make them appear more guilty than they actually were. He wasn’t sure if he believed it himself, there could be many other explanations. “He’ll learn it by Blackstar in good time.”


A dozen of faceless, indescribable cats were walking in circle like black silhouettes in a shady clearing that was glowing pink and orange with the setting sun. In the silent twilight, only a crunching padding could be heard, the sound of crumpled dried leaves. Unexpectedly, the fallen leaves on the ground woke up and grabbed the cats' paws like the talon of a papery bird of prey. The cats could neither move nor cry, paralyzed by the touch of dead leaves. Suddenly, the soil turned to mud, then to a rusty reddish goo. In the center of the group of cats, a pool of thick scarlet liquid had formed, bubbling like it was boiling. The cats, rigid as if made of rock, did not even blink when a greater feline entered the clearing. It was a majestic tiger, huge and powerful, its stripped pelt darker than most of his species. He padded silently despite of the large size of its paws and went directly in the middle, to where was the gurgling pool of blood. The tiger, then lowered its head as to drink the red liquid, but instead plunged it right in. A heartbeat later, its head resurfaced, covered in viscous blood, dripping, a bundle of wet fur clutched in its mighty jaw. The tiger turned around and dropped what it had fished on a more solid ground for all the spectators to watch. The torn ball of ragged pelt twitched and got up to its small paw. The blood washed over its slim body as if rain had started pouring and was washing its stained sticky fur. The redness left place to black, a sleek dark pelt. The thing that had been in the pool was a cat. A tiny black tom with one little white paw. The claws that protruded from its paws were grotesquely big and sharp, like the great tiger behind him. He slowly raised his head to the circle of cats and opened icy blue eyes in a stare colder than the cruel chill of leaf-bare.

Leafpaw woke up from her nap in panic, panting, her heart ready to burst out of her chest. What an awful nightmare! Or was it? To calm down, she trotted around the camp and rested under the shade of a tree. Even though she wasn’t stressed anymore, she was still lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. Who were those cats? Was it a message from StarClan? Why a tiger? Who was that strange black tom? It was not long before her sister Squirrelpaw spotted her asking questions out loud without realizing it.

“Are you alright? You look… Well… a bit crazy, right now, mumbling to yourself. Cinderpelt does that too… It must be a medic thing.”

Leafpaw nodded absent-mindedly.

Her sister poked her gently with one orange front paw. "Hey! Stop spacing out, I'm talking to you. Is something wrong?”

“Huh? Hum, yes... No. It's... I had a dream.” told her Leafpaw, then add rapidly, “It's nothing important”.

“What? Did you see something?” the young orange she-cat asked anyway.

Squirrelpaw meant the way medics and their apprentices received omens from their ancestor hunters in the starry sky. She did not like lying to her sister, but what other choice did she had. She would need more time to figure that dream out. A prophetic sign or not.

“Oh. Well, just leaf-fall, cats in a clearing, then more cats. Probably meant nothing special.”

It was not entirely a lie, she had seen a lot of cats, but they were far from enjoying themselves.

And telling her about a tiger that brought out a monster born from a pool a blood was not an option.

Chapter Five: Ember after fire

Some dawns had passed since he warned the other leaders and the rumors about Tigerstar’s return were thinning, along with the ThunderClan leader’s credibility, when a familiar black loner was back in his den. With his fur sticky with mud and dried leaves, he was panting, his yellow eyes wildly alert.

“What is it, Ravenpaw? Have you seen Tigerstar again?” inquired Firestar hopefully, greeting once more his old friend who had obviously ran all the way to the ThunderClan camp in a hurry. His deputy, followed by a fluffy white warrior, Firestar’s nephew Cloudtail, entered just after the loner, curious to hear Ravenpaw’s dreadful news.

“No. It’s worse than that.”

“Aw, come on. What can be worse than Tigerstar!” cried Graystripe out loud, rolling his eyes.

“Hum… Scourge.” Ravenpaw told him.

The four cats stared dead quiet at each other, until Cloudtail could not keep down his indignation any longer. It was simply too much.

“You must be kidding me?! Firestar killed him. I was there!” scolded the long-haired white tom, outraged. “We beat the crap out of that long-clawed freak. There’s no way he’s alive. And Tigerstar even less!”

He was fuming with rage at the stupidity of his superiors. How could Firestar be so gullible?! They had all been there, on the battlefield. Scourge fell from Firestar’s fangs while Tigerstar was… destroyed, beyond any possible glamourous repair from ancestors living in the stars. This was utter fox dung! They were old fools to believe otherwise.

“Cloudtail…” warned his leader, his patience reaching its limit with his rebel nephew’s arrogance. Addressing them with such disrespect was unacceptable.

“What? It’s true. You’re just a bunch of scared kittypets. Whining like little kits that sees monsters that aren’t there. You’re all pathetic.”

The ThunderClan snarled at him.

“Get out, Cloudtail.” growled Firestar, though it was unnecessary since the white warrior was already leaving.


“Whitepaw, have you seen Cloudtail?” asked a white she-cat with ginger spots, calling her daughter. The side of her face that wasn’t horribly scarred showed a worried expression. The apprentice joined her frantic mother, her mates Squirrelpaw and Leafpaw behind her.

“No. Why?”

“I… can’t find your father. He was angry earlier. I’m afraid he went to do something reckless. Can you please ask around? Maybe he’s just hunting.”

“Okay, Brightheart. We’re on it!” chimed Squirrelpaw, ready for action.

The warrior touched noses with the three young she-cats to thank them and trotted to the elders' den to question them.


The sun was setting over a backstreet alley filled with garbages, boxes and crates. There, rogue felines were enjoying the last bit of sunshine that the end of the day had to offer. Inside a large tumbled broken old fruit crate rested lazily a big cat with a slightly flat nose. The sunlight that passed through the wood planks drew bloody red stripes on his pelt.

Ember was the leader of a reformed BloodClan. Though, more structured and less violent, they were still a very nasty group of city cats. He had a long-haired auburn coat, the color of falling leaves, and pale yellow eyes. It was said that his dark red fur was the result of bathing in the blood of his enemy.

Of course, that wasn’t true, but they did not need to know that. He had a reputation to maintain. Some nicknamed him the Red Death, which, again, was highly exaggerated. Ember was young, broad-shouldered, muscular and his thick pelt made him appear bigger, however, he was never even near as astounding as they liked to describe him. Well, nothing like Scourge, anyway.

“Ember? … Ember, are you in there?”

“Yeah.” the auburn tom replied, yawning.

A wrinkled skinny creature stepped inside the BloodClan leader’s makeshift den built out of an aged wooden crate that still smelled like rotten apples. The weirdly shaped cat approached him with a crooked walk and sat awkwardly next to his nest.

“What can I do for you today, Blankpelt?” inquired Ember with an amused tone. Blankpelt was an exotic feline that twolegs found very precious and valuable, but on the streets, he was regarded as ugly and grotesque, since his skin was smooth and furless like a newborn rat. He used to be a fancy kittypet named Mister Diamond and was later called Blankpelt by rogues. Ember had suggested better names like Moon Plague or Pale Terror, but the other tom would not change it. He was the most peculiar cat he had ever met and enjoyed his company the most. Inside the Clan, he played the role of advisor and semi-healer. What he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in brains.

“If you could describe Scourge, how would you do it?” rasped the unusual cat with his ageless voice. An odd question from an odd cat. Ember was used to his eccentric habits.

“Hum... I’d say deadly. Black, small, but swift, with the dog fang claws we don’t use anymore. Why?” the leader asked, then joked “Is he coming back?”

“I think so.”

Coming from any other cat, he would have laughed at the silly idea, however, his friend was cold and reserved, joking around was not part of something he did.

“Care to elaborate? Because, I’m not sure what you’re telling me, right now.”

“I happened to see a tiny cat like the one you just described. Adding blue eyes, a white tipped paw and the spiked collar signature of former BloodClan. More members claim to have witnessed the same.”

What sort of nonsense was that? If his cats were to believe Scourge’s return, there would be riots. The dark auburn tom jumped out of his dirty rags bedding and stomped the wood with an angry paw.

“Well, I think it’s rubbish!” Ember yowled, irritated, nearly spitting in the other cat’s face.

Blankpelt blinked mechanically, his expression neutral, unreadable.

“Don’t you!?” he added, annoyed by the lack of response of the hairless cat.

“What I think is that it is too high of a likelihood to be a coincidence.”


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