Goosewing's kits were born in the heat of a summer day, as healthy and kit-like as they should have been. No extra eyes or long black legs in sight. But as his dreams grew steadily worse, the fear that gripped Seedscatter's heart felt tighter and tighter, restricting the blood that shouldn't have left his feet unsteady and his mind unsure.

The voices that spoke to him had told him terrible things, of death and fire and floods that would warp his home and leave him alive but terribly alone. They told him of his sister's kit, how she would be his spider, his adversary, and his end. But now she was just a rag doll that stretched out in the hay like a piece of fresh kill.

Silkkit.

That's what they had named her.

The tiny, squirming white she-kit that was to be the end of the clans as they knew them. Seedscatter knew he shouldn't have been angry at something that had only just entered the world, but he couldn't help it. He was furious.

He had visited the nursery a few days after the birth, as Shrewtoe was letting Goosewing rest up before visitors saw the kits. There were three of them: Windkit, Maplekit, and, of course, Silkkit.

It would be about a moon before they even opened their eyes. Seedscatter was betting that Silkkit's would be yellow - a dirty, hazy, black-rimmed mustard color that would make his throat burn with emotion. Just like his own.

Seedscatter used to love the deep color of his eyes, flecked with copper and gold framing two black slits. Now he despised them. At least one good thing came out of the lack of rain; there were no puddles that he could glimpse himself in, making the fur rise on his scruff. He would be the laughing stock of his clan: behold, the deputy who fears his own reflection!

The spider had been making an appearance in many of his dreams, enough for him to start remembering the taunts and jeers that the little bug had said to him. And now with Silkkit... It was just too much to handle.

Now, Seedscatter made his way along the southern border, his nose pressing into Finchfur's tail. Behind him, Stoneclaw's own nose was trained on Seedscatter. The method of staying together was devised many moons ago, as the grasses were easy to become lost in. It was simpler than traveling by scent alone.

The need for border patrols came and went with the seasons, it seemed. Though FieldClan was the only large group of cats in the area, loners liked to pass through, bringing tales of far away places to tell to young, impressionable minds. When food became plentiful, rogues made their own camps, and it was the patrol's job to drive them off, especially if they were being hostile. For now, all was quiet, and the borders had been marked.

"How are your sister's kits doing?" Finchfur asked, his tone friendly.

Seedscatter refrained from letting out a huff of annoyance. "I haven't seen them in a few days, but they were alright then," he meowed curtly.

Finchfur seemed to take the hint, however, and they treaded through the field in silence for a moment. To their right, something small scuffled through the undergrowth before finding shelter within its burrow.

"I'd love kits some day," Stoneclaw said behind him, his voice wistful. "But Thistleflower isn't keen on giving up her warrior duties." The grey tom shrugged, face skimming off of Seedscatter's tail for a moment before it was brought back down.

"Kits would be nice," Finchfur agreed. "What about you, Seedscatter? How would you feel about a couple of children to carry on your lineage?"

Seedscatter didn't really know how to answer that. "Sure." He might as well satisfy the toms. He didn't want to have to answer a bunch of unnecessary questions.

Stoneclaw purred in agreement. "I've always liked the prefix 'Wren'," he meowed. And the conversation went on like that for the rest of the trip home, Seedscatter only participating when he was directly asked a question. Otherwise, he brooded over Silkkit.

There had to be something he could do to get rid of her. He couldn't kill the thing, no, the blood would forever be on his paws. Goosewing would be mortified, and even if she didn't find out, someone eventually would. The only cat who might understand would be Shrewtoe. She knew all about omens and prophecies and the like. Maybe she could decipher it.

Seedscatter hated this feeling, the constant on-edge anxiety that flooded his thoughts and turned his legs into jelly. He shouldn't have to fear a kit! If anything, the kit should fear him. He probably shouldn't give the kit a reason to fear him, though. It wouldn't look very good to the others.

As he settled into his nest later that day, pelt ungroomed and filthy (he might actually have to wash it tomorrow), Seedscatter tried to calm his thoughts. He had gotten a poppy seed from Nutpaw, easily faking a headache, and could already feel the effects of the tiny black sleep-enhancer.

Eyes shut tight, Seedscatter willed his exhaustion to roll over him like a rain cloud, surrounded by the thunderous purrs of his denmates and the thin veil of humidity in the air.

Unfortunately, every thunderstorm comes with lightning.

____________

Seedscatter shuddered, feeling the water soak his fur and drip from his pelt in rivers and streams. But he had to keep going. Something was pushing him onwards, discouraging his need to rest underneath a bush or tree. He didn't know what the force was looking for, but it must have been important.

White light flashed above his head, lighting up everything in a sharp clarity for half of a second before going dark again. A booming clap of thunder came only a moment later. He was almost directly under the storm.

With little to no wind, the rain poured directly down onto him, feeling, at least to Seedscatter, like thousands - no, millions of tiny thorns digging into his pelt. Each drop was a hiss that fought to be heard. His yellow eyes cut through the haze, if a bit fitfully, to keep his insistent paws from stepping on anything harmful. He was becoming impatient, blinking angrily into the distance. Though the forest was too dark to see anything, Seedscatter could make out the towering pines when lightning cut streaks of gold through the clouds. The branches were completely bare, snaking tentatively towards the sky like claw marks in sand. Each movement and creak seemed to cry out to him, though he could hear no words beneath the roar of water.

"You shouldn't judge this place. A storm like this has already taken its toll on you."

Seedscatter spun around, fear piercing deeper than even the largest raindrops could manage. "Show yourself!" He yowled, a drowned rat in the paws of a fox.

The laughter that followed wasn't really laughter at all. It seemed to pour from all around him, slushing in between his toes and burrowing in his fur. The noise itself was the storm.

"You won't like me," the shadows crooned, a detectable pout in its tone.

Seedscatter said nothing, lifting his chin defiantly. He wouldn't stand and be played with, not if he could get the smallest grab on the situation.

"Ever the stoic one, hm? Oh well. I tried."

Seedscatter squinted through the darkness, unable to make out anything. His eyes strained to pick up any movement at all, but the rain was just too thick.

Then, as if sparks had erupted from StarClan itself, light lit up the forest, and he could see everything. Yet, at the same time, Seedscatter could see nothing. He was drowning in light, suffocating in blinding heat, so hot it was cold. He felt like he was on fire, like every nerve was curling and fraying, and each of those frays was curling and fraying itself. He let out a cry of pain, but he couldn't hear himself over the blood roaring in his ears. It was too much, he had to escape, he needed relief from the stimulative torture.

"Do you see me now, uncle?"

And he did. Flickering on the edge of his field of view were
two eyes, painted in the most unholy shade of black he had ever seen. His own, yellow irises glinted off of the gleaming surfaces, merging into the color he had grown to fear.

Scared of a color, some far away voice scoffed in his head. Who would have thought that he, deputy of FieldClan, would be scared of a color, of all things?! It was ridiculous.

But there were more pressing matters at hand. Those eyes were growing steadily bigger, taking up more and more space, replacing the empty white with swirling depths of malice and hatred. They swallowed the light and left something worse. It was a feat that Seedscatter would have deemed impossible only seconds before.

"D o y o u s e e m e n o w , u n c l e ?"

And with that, Seedscatter screamed.