The pale, watery sun stretched weakly over the horizon, it's skinny fingers brushing the western hilltops. The sky was tinged pink, but swiftly turning dusky purple and blue. Clouds were beginning to gather in the east. The moon was nowhere to be found.
Beneath the empty, ice-chilled sky, a faint fog was curling at a young she-cat's feet. It crept along the river, brewing thickly, rising, churning with the tide. It spilled over the riverbank, tangling in the thick reeds and burying all in a cool, pale grey blanket. As the she-cat forced her way through the thickest section, she wondered if, on the other side, the world had simply ceased to exist.
The thought was quickly gone from her mind as a series of faint splashes sounded just to her right. Mintwhisker jumped slightly, her thick taupe fur rising along the nape of her neck. Was she being followed? Was she surrounded? Not for the first time that evening, the young Medicine Cat found herself wondering if this was a good idea. After all, she knew that she was breaking the rules, disobeying direct orders from Tinystar himself. Traveling to Riverclan's camp was already dangerous enough- it could ruin Skyclan's chances of staying neutral, for one. The she-cat shivered, moving faster. It was nearly Leafbare, and prey was scarce. Any number of dangerous predators could be lurking just out of sight. Mintwhisker's abysmal battle skills would be no match for most creatures, let alone a particularly hungry fox or dog. She shuddered, her murky green eyes squinting ahead. The fog was thinner that way, and she thought she saw faint pinpricks of a pale pink horizon gleaming through the web of vapor. Keeping one ear trained on the babbling river, she steered her paws towards the light. A tumble into water could spell death for her. Her pelt was thicker than some, but she had no way to shed water like Riverclanners did, and wet fur was useless at repelling cold. She would be dead before night had really fallen.
Suddenly, a shadow moved across her path.
"Hello?" Mintwhisker spoke softly, crouching slowly. Her muscles shook as she gazed wide-eyed at the figure ahead of her. It was positioned between her and the light, it's pointed ears pricked. A faint pink outline shone against its fur, gleaming golden in the weakening glimmer of sunlight. "I mean you no harm. I-I just got lost, I swear." Her voice was barely a whisper, her warm breath swirling around her head, her words forming a cloudy wreath she wore like a crown. She was too scared to speak louder, for everyone knows that an echoing voice in the dark will only make you feel more alone.
So Mintwhisker spoke lowly, facing down the taller figure, unable to move a muscle. She was as still as the reeds lining the riverbank, untouched by the cool winter wind that stirred the fog.
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