[MockingRabbit]

Prologue

Sunlight glistens on the still surface of a pond. A she-cat sits at its edge, staring into the depth. Starlight glimmers at her paws. The reed stems to the far side of her rustle, and a broad-shouldered tom pushes his way through. He sits, and the two gaze at each other coolly.
“Lionstreak,” the she-cat says at length with a dip of her head, her ears twitching.
“Briarwing,” the tom greets in kind. “You wished to discuss the living.”
Briarwing nods her head. “Indeed. I presume that you have seen the states of the Clans, and more specifically, our own, ShadowClan.”
Lionstreak nods sharply. “ShadowClan remains stronger than any other.”
“Not for much longer, though. You have read the signs as well as any cat. Great weakness will spread through ShadowClan in the form of disease. It will wipe out many cats if it cannot be stopped.”
Lionstreak grunts grudgingly. “So what?” He asks. “They have medicine cats, that is what they are there for.”
“Medicine cat,” Briarwing corrects him. “Singular. And Lostspark does not have the knowledge to deal with this, no Clan cat does.”
“Well, what do you propose to do about it?”
“I propose we help them, suggest them a new Medicine Cat.”
Lionstreak’s golden pelt fluffs up. “Got anyone in mind?”
In answer, Briarwing drags a paw over the pond’s surface, sending ripples flowing outward. An image seems to rise from the depths and imprint itself into the water.
“Him?” Lionstreak’s mew is thick, and he looks up in dumb surprise. “He is hardly anyone’s first choice.”
“No,” Briarwing agrees, “but he has his unique traits.”
“What, like not being able to walk straight?” Humour drips from his voice like honey.
“Among other things. He has an active mind, for starters.”
Lionstreak shakes his head. “Honestly, I think you would do better -the clan would do better- choosing someone else. Someone more experienced, someone who has finished their training or hey, maybe even tell Lostspark herself how to cure it.”
Briarwing glares at him coldly.
Lionstreak lets out a ragged sigh. “But that is never the way of you, is it? You can never just make it easy. Very well, I will approve of your choice, just don’t blame me if it all goes horribly wrong.”
“It won’t. And thank you,” Briarwing says, her expression softening slightly. Lionstreak gives his tail a flick and stomps away. Briarwing looks down at the sleeping tom in the pond and drags her paw over it until the image disperses, then she too whisks away into the reeds.