blurred dreams [c]

Plumpaw hovered outside the leader's den, shifting her weight nervously. She hadn't been able to get Starclan's message out of her mind, and she was no closer to understanding what it meant regardless of how much she thought about it. She'd considered asking Fogpaw if he had any ideas, but she didn't want to burden him. He seemed to be handling the whole "no mentor" situation well, but Plumpaw knew he was just as clueless as she was.

"Um, Briarthorn? May I... have a word with you?" She debated telling her leader it was urgent, then decided against it. Hopefully, the dark-furred molly would be able to understand the cryptic prophecy.

Briarthorn had been cleaning up around camp, checking in on those she bumped into along the way. It had been a long, tiresome day thus far, but she continued her rounds, making sure that everyone had what they needed. Her mind frequently thought back to the two apprentices that had set out for their first medicine cat meeting, but she quickly brushed those thoughts away- they’d be returning soon, and she was sure it would go as smoothly as possible.

Just as she’d expected, Plumpaw had quickly found her upon her return, and Briarthorn nodded in greeting to her. She furrowed her brow for a moment at the younger molly’s question. She didn’t seem overly worried, but there was a hint of nervousness in her tone. ”Yes, of course.” She mewed, turning and flicking her tail as she walked. ”Why don’t you join me in the leader’s den, so we can chat together in there?” Briarthorn didn’t wait for a response, instead shouldering her way into the den where it was quieter, and they could speak in confidence. ”What can I help with?” She said, voice gentle and caring.

Plumpaw followed Briarthorn into the den, visibly relaxing a bit at the molly's comforting tone. Whatever happened, she was sure she and Briarthorn could figure it out together. The thought gave Plumpaw a bit more confidence, her voice noticeably steadier when she spoke.

"I wanted to ask you about this prophecy, I can't seem to figure out what it means, and I was hoping you could help." Taking a deep breath, she repeated the words echoing in her mind.

"A crack in the night severs the old pine, splitting it down the middle. Branches and leaves scatter left and right, creating division and imbalance. Will leaves catch upon the thorns or be left to wander aimlessly, scattered across the forest... What do you think it means?"