As Whitestorm was facing the fox-hearted Bone, he lunged, twisting to the side while he fooled the mouse-brained rouge, leaving him in the dust. He leaped up upon him and bit as hard as he could into his shoulder. The tom wailed out in agony, but managed to shake him off. He then sprinted at Whitestorm while he collected himself. No! thought Whitestorm, he tried to fight back, but the BloodClan warrior was too strong, and overpowerd him. A searing pain came over his neck as his enemy's teeth sunk in. It was his turn to wail out. Young Firestar heard him, and rushed over.
"Whitestorm!" He cried, "We need to get you to Cinderpelt-"
"Firestar, we both know that I cannot be healed this time." I said rather calmly for a cat about to lose his life.
"But your ThunderClan's deputy, we all need you!" The ginger tom said with a panicked expression on his face.
"You will chose who you always wanted as deputy, Graystripe." I whispered.
I started to see a pure white she-cat walking over from the sky. Her star-glazed pelt and white glow that echoed off of her made me know she was a StarClan warrior. As she drew nearer, I picked up her scent, the scent that Bluestar kept alive. Memories of the nursery and a comforting mother flooded into me. My mother sat down, purring, and she said,
"My son, it is time for you to join us in StarClan, I couldn't be more proud of you, sacrificing you life for the good of all the clans." She said, a shinning pride in her eyes. She beckoned me forward, and I followed her into the stars, where I saw Bluestar, who nursed me so well, and Patchpelt, my old mentor. As all of the other cat's I've known comforting scents wrapped around me, I padded slowly though, staying close to my mother, drinking in her scent. This was StarClan, I had made it.