Post by Rosefeather on Nov 10, 2007 12:36:40 GMT -8
Whitemoon alighted from his place in search of Song the rogue. He found her asleep in the High Plains. "Song." He entered her dreams and took her to the clearing of Mist. "Song listen closly." His voice felt raspy, like claws against stone.
"Cats of the cold are cats of the wise,
Cats are not Clanborn but they will still rise.
The one with the mark is the one with the song,
The ones who survived leafbare's long.
Smallest though they may be,
Truer hearts one could never see.
Beware of the blood that drenches the stars;
Rogues will soon have the paws.
Revenge may be bitter, but it still can be sweet,
For the winter scar and the song is defeat.
But never fear, for along in the midst
Are four cats who's bravery can insist
That good will prevail, but only when
Winter and song can save the land.
The small acorn of the earth
Is about to grow,
The smoke on the water
Is about to show,
The fox of the fire
Is about to begin,
And with the Thunder in the lightning
Winter and song can win."
"Cats of the cold are cats of the wise,
Cats are not Clanborn but they will still rise.
The one with the mark is the one with the song,
The ones who survived leafbare's long.
Smallest though they may be,
Truer hearts one could never see.
Beware of the blood that drenches the stars;
Rogues will soon have the paws.
Revenge may be bitter, but it still can be sweet,
For the winter scar and the song is defeat.
But never fear, for along in the midst
Are four cats who's bravery can insist
That good will prevail, but only when
Winter and song can save the land.
The small acorn of the earth
Is about to grow,
The smoke on the water
Is about to show,
The fox of the fire
Is about to begin,
And with the Thunder in the lightning
Winter and song can win."
