Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors or Firestar. But I do own Firestar plushies for people who review! Now, Summary: "When the next deputy is appointed, let the second queen to be born with the name 'Spotted' have 'fire' as her warrior name." These are Firestar's dying words. Now, with Spot knowing his wish from her loner mother Spottedpool, she tries to live up to him. A new prophecy is made, and Firewish of WindClan must teach Spot in the ways of StarClan, which she has never known. And if they make it through the training, she must guide him through a perilous journey to the Land of the Exiles, a place only rogues and loners know, to find a cure for a terrible disease, before it's too late.
"I truly wish you wouldn't leave," the brown tom murmured, pressing his nose to a she-cat's shoulder. She returned the affectionate touch.
"I'm sorry, Brackenwhisker, but…they will not enjoy our match. Our kits will be rejected." The orange cat looked down, almost eyeballing her belly, which was growing bigger by the day. "If only Firestar were here…I could trust him," she said, too soft for her mate.
"But what if something goes wrong at the kitting?" Brackenwhisker meowed, alarmed. "I won't be there. I couldn't heal you!"
"StarClan wouldn't let that happen. Calm yourself. It will be fine. And I promise, one of your kits will come to you. The others, or other, I will keep." She licked his cheek. "Goodbye, Brackenwhisker."
"Goodbye, Spottedpool." He looked fondly after her as she disappeared, her black-splotched legs moving agilely in the darkness.
"MRRROWW!" Spottedpool howled. The kitting hurt! She remembered taking stuff from Brackenwhisker to make her milk come, but nothing to make her kits live. The two she'd already had were puny and weren't moving.
The next two were beautiful. The female was a tortoiseshell, with spots across her face. The tom was dark brown, with an orange ring around his eye. "You will be Spot," she gasped to the female, "and you will be Ring," she told the tom. Spot and Ring squirmed to her belly and began suckling her rich milk.
"Brackenwhisker!" a voice hissed. The medicine cat turned, not recognizing the scent of wild garlic with a mouth. He saw a face in the bushes. "I've come to give you your kit. Come along, Ring."
Brackenwhisker felt curiosity rising in him, so he put his face in the ferns. "Well, where is he?"
A tiny kit, just the color of his father, was pushed forward by a prodding paw. He was Brackenwhisker in all ways except for the handsome orange ring around his eye. He smelled heavily of garlic. "Alright. Come on, Ring, let's go."
"Goodbye, my beautiful kit!" Spottedpool whispered, turning and hurrying away. Brackenwhisker heard a tiny voice: "Mommy, why did Ring go? Is he going with Daddy?" "Yes, dear. Now come. I need to hunt."
Brackenwhisker gave a small smile and, getting a thought, rubbed his legs on Ring's fur, to make it seem like he'd walked in a garlic patch. Then he picked up his kit and sprinted out of the medicine cat den.
Everyone turned to see the medicine cat holding a small kit. He gently placed him at the foot of the Highledge and called out: "Graystar!" The thick-furred gray leader stepped out, his broad face looking down.
"What's this you've got, Brackenwhisker?" he asked, jumping down the rocks to sniff Ring. "Why does he smell like garlic?"
"I found him on my way to look for catmint. He was sitting in a garlic patch, mewling." Ring looked up, skeptical, but said nothing.
"Well, we can't leave him. We must take him in. Alright now." Graystar hopped back up to the Highledge, and tried to make up something that sounded official. "Until this kit receives his apprentice name, he will be called Orangekit."