Vixen


 * Short (unlike Amaranthine hahaha)
 * The world with magic about once a generation per Clan
 * In BlizzardClan magic is feared and hunted
 * In SilverClan magic is suppressed and ignored
 * Aspenstar of SilverClan is Levana
 * Fawnwhisper of SilverClan can have visions of past events in the place she's in, and sense a vague future
 * BlizzardClan is up a high ledge and cats almost never cross

Plot

 * Sets scene; Aspenstar has recently risen to leader; SilverClan is named after the silver birches; BlizzardClan is much higher up and full of pines and snow, SilverClan can't access it
 * Aspenstar seems okay at first, at least to Fawnwhisper, who soon joins her 'entourage' of loyal cats.  Aspenstar keeps her away from Cloudfire, Sparrowtail, and Foxleaf, her mother, brother, and friend respectively, after they show signs of rebellion.
 * Aspenstar discovers Fawnwhisper's magic and instead of harassing her like she expected cats would, she accepts it and promotes her to the Council, a group of cats she consults.
 * Fawnwhisper does a variety of tasks for Aspenstar and practices her magic.  Aspenstar offers to find a witch outside the Clans to train her (but fails) and basically spoils her.
 * Fawnwhisper senses betrayal will happen in the training place and sees a flash of claws and blood on the ground.  Aspenstar places her most pawn-y guards there 24/7.
 * Fawnwhisper finds a way up the cliff for Aspenstar and discovers that cats once came down using a rockslide that created a ramp.  Aspenstar finds another rockslide and begins planning for the invasion.  Fawnwhisper senses the fall of a leader
 * Aspenstar begins scouting for the invasion and when she, a Council cat, and Fawnwhisper are going out to train in the guarded-place, a group of six cats including Cloudfire, Sparrowtail, and Foxleaf attack.  Fawnwhisper manages to use her magic to enhance her fighting abilities and the three of them fend off the attack, killing two of the cats involved, including Foxleaf.
 * Aspenstar punished the assassins by preventing them from leaving camp and forcing them to do the dirty tasks and eat scraps until the battle when they will be sent out into the front lines.
 * Fawnwhisper is spoken to by a cat in the shadows, telling her that she is helping a fox who will discard her as soon as she is of no use.  She doesn't listen.
 * Battle with BlizzardClan, a vision doesn't go as she interpreted it, and Aspenstar is badly wounded.  She tries to push Fawny off the cliff, where they've driven BlizzardClan.  Fawnwhisper uses her powers to kill her and flees.

Prologue
I used to think it was normal. I grew up in the SilverClan nursery, among the spindly birches that populated our territory. I grew up in a land of peace and plenty, Cloudfire's silver-tipped fur kept my brother and I warm as we laughed and played with Foxkit, Flamekit, and Jaykit, our mewls echoing through the stone walls of the den. Marigoldstar was our leader and every cat under her kind leadership was loyal and strong. Our fresh-kill piles were full and our land peaceful.

Sparrowkit and I were closer than two hairs on a vole's pelt, the both of us climbing all over our mother and tumbling with Cherrybreeze's three kits, the sun filtering through the roof of branches that capped the nursery. I'd pretend to be asleep as he jauntily padded into the den, carrying a mouse almost as big as he was. When he set down the vole and began to eat, satisfied he finally got a meal to himself, I'd jump out when he least expected it and tear my own bites off of the juicy meal.

We'd play a game of moss-ball with Cherrybreeze's litter, and Foxkit and I would compete to see who could get the most points. Vinekit, the former loner a moon older than I was, would join Sparrowkit and my team, and we'd compete against Flamekit, Jaykit, and Vixenkit fiercely, though they would usually beat us in the end, and Vixenkit would gloat eternally. Then we'd play hunt-the-mouse and I would catch her time after time, joking that the Clan's fresh-kill pile would stay full forever.

It didn't.

I would go up and get a tasty morsel from the fresh-kill pile and be thrown into a vision. Four bony cats dropping a single scrawny vole onto a measly stack of stale prey, one of them a young white she-cat with silver-tipped hair. A large group of cats looking devastated as the heavy rain created a raging river that soiled every last piece in the pile. A foggy feeling of hunger and a flash of an empty dip where the mountain of prey once stood before I was thrown back into reality.

I didn't question it at first and didn't speak of the visions after Sparrowkit looked at me strangely when I asked him about the young cat who looked rather like Cloudfire. It happened in other places too, and I once saw a river of blood and unsheathed claws as I walked past the elders' den. Lightning struck the formerly highest tree in camp and a fire blazed through the whole camp when I looked up at Marigoldstar's announcement branch. A scarred she-cat snatched two kits and ran off into the shadows once as I padded into the nursery.

The visions had plagued me all through my kithood and beyond, turning up when I least expected it. During my apprentice ceremony, a cat soaked in blood had raced into the camp, crying out about invaders from beyond the cliff. I had frozen and shrieked, which had caused the entire Clan to stare at me. They had politely pretended not to notice and turned back to Marigoldstar, who had gazed down on me and the newly-made Sparrowkit, while Vixenpaw and her brothers had gazed at us with excitement.

When I became Fawnpaw, the visions didn't fade away. Foxpaw and Sparrowpaw would joke about my random moments of sudden glassy-eyed pause. I had simply ignored them, pretending that I wasn't thrown into an alternate reality a few times a day. I trained with my mentor Fernfire every day and chatted away with the other apprentices in the evenings, but I never told anybody about my visions. During the nights, I trained myself to suppress the flashes of this other world and return to reality.

I would be training with Fernfire early in the morning, my mind vulnerable from exhaustion, and a vision would snatch me away from the hunting practice. Maybe a group of cats battling with four foxes, blood splattering the ground. The screeches would seem so real and the scent of blood so strong that sometimes I was convinced it was reality. Fernfire would fall to the ground, throat torn out by the largest vixen, and I'd screech in grief, and then the real Fernfire would shake me out of these waking dreams.

The visions only became more frequent as I got older, though I became more skilled at suppressing them. I once asked Silverstorm, an elder, about the most frequent one, a time of great starvation. I recognized a few cats from the Clan, including my mother, Cloudfire. She had told me that two seasons before my birth, SilverClan's prey had all but disappeared. Another one, an invasion of oddly-scented cats, had apparently happened seven seasons ago when rogues attacked our camp. Some of the scenes I saw didn't seem like the past, though. I saw an older Sparrowpaw struck to the ground by a golden tabby paw, his blood soaking the ground. Seven cats died in a fox attack that none of the older cats knew of. I had stopped trying to identify the cats when rumors began to spread around the camp about my odd stories, but the whispers eventually faded.

Four moons later, Fernfire led a large patrol out to check the borders. None of them returned.

The remains of their bodies were discovered a few moons later, torn apart by foxes.

Marigoldstar simply sacrificed that patch of territory, stating that it was too dangerous to defend. My fear only intensified. The visions became harder to control. Few of them were joyful. I saw every cat in the Clan die at least once, struck to the ground by foxes, pushed off a huge cliff, thrown to the bottom of a deep pit full of sharp rocks. Everywhere I went, death followed. A massacre in the warriors' den. Dozens of cats dying of greencough when I walked into the medicine den to get a scratch treated. The last remains of the fresh-kill pile rotting away.

Death. Destruction. Everywhere.

One
Fawnwhisper