#pebbleslash

The cat he could only assume was The Prophet’s Keeper, paused, studying his face, memorizing it.

“Fine,” she flicked her ear, turning and nodding to two cats who carried a monsterous bird between them. “Follow me.”

Pebbleslash nodded, swallowing thickly, he wasn’t sure what to expect, no one spoke of what happened at the Sky Teeth, it was forbidden. Some went back, drawn by a force they never described. Looking around now, there were cats eating together, talking, shaking snow out of their pelts, he wondered if the force that drew them back was so bad after all.

“In here,” The Keeper spoke quietly, their face cold as the mountain. “What you see is not to be repeated, and what you hear will be your burden, do not squander your question, it may change your fate.”

He nodded, entering the cave, and passing through to its open maw, it was dark, with pools of water glitering in the light as moss hung from its ceiling, crawling down the sides. The warrior could see a form, laying on a bed of moss on a raised stone, water flowed from somewhere deeper in the cave around the cat, who stared with eyes that showed silverpelt.

“My Prophet,” Keeper called from the entrance. “He carries a question.”

The Prophet blinked, and the entire cave warmed. “Allow me to ease the burden.” Their voice echoed around the cave, and Pebbleslash was nearly overwhelmed with the reality of a mere fraction of StarClan’s might.

He stepped forward, his tail bristling. “M-My Prophet,” he repeated, sweeping his leg under him and bowing. “My mate-she is sick, and this is our first litter,” he felt his voice tremble as he looked towards the ageless tolly. “I must know, what do you see? Will she live? I-I cannot do this on my own.”

The Prophet hummed, and the sound moved around Pebbleslash, drawing him forward, his paws seemed to glide, drawn in by the song of the ancestors.

“You seek knowledge, you wish to protect them, don’t you?” The Prophet asked, and Pebbleslash’s paws hung at the edge of the waters. “You wish to be a good father?”

“Yes,” Pebbleslash’s pelt smoothed, the chill leaving and he was left with a warmth. “Yes I do, I want to do good by them.”

“Then you will die.”

Pebbleslash’s face fell, the allure broken and he found himself standing in the waters. “Wh-what?”

The Prophet smiled, and the cave cooled, Pebbleslash was shivering in the waters. “You will die, it is written, your efforts . . . for naught. The kits destinies are chosen already.”

“What-what about my mate? Woodsong?” He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t.

“The kits will be the death of her.” The Prophet tilted their head, and their eyes glittered like stardust. “It is said; ‘There will be two, one will rise to glory, and the other will be doomed to fall, and fall they must’.”

Pebbleslash paled, his mouth dry.

The Prophet tilted their head. “You have sought the truth, and it is laid bare.”

“But-but that can’t be it!” he protested. “Which kit? What of my mate? Me?!”

“You will die, your mate will die, it is written,” the prophet’s tail twitched and curled up around them. “The stars have spoken, find the hero well, you will have no other chance.”

“Wh-?” Pebbleslash wanted to protest, but he felt a paw on his back.

“Time to leave, say your farewells,” The Keeper sneered at him. “You have brought no offering so this will have to suffice.” In a flash, she drew her claws down on his shoulder.

His claws unsheathed as the tom swore, flinching at the pain that ran through him as he felt blood well up on his fur. The Keeper touched his shoulder with a paw and washed it in the waters. He met her eyes and for a moment he saw the smallest sparkle of the night sky.

What else drew cats back here?

“You may take your leave now,” Keeper ordered. “The Healers will take care of your wound, and you will be permitted to eat before you return to your home.”

“I’m just supposed to go back after this?” He hissed, eyes flashing to The Prophet, who smiled blankly at the two. “This was nothing but a curse!”

The Keeper blinked at him. “You chose to come here, and bare the burden of knowledge, you cannot blame the future for being written.”

“You’re all insane,” he growled, stepping out of the water. “I-I can’t believe this mousedung.”

“You don’t have too,” The Prophet spoke finally. “The stars have made their choices.”