[vellichor]

[just throwin this in here for prophecy purposes]

Snailswirl
________

The air around them felt deathly cold. The tabby cat opened their green eyes, widening them in shock. They were in WimdClan territory! And it was broad daylight! And there was about a few mouselengths of snow underpaw! What was happening? Was this a dream? Their teeth chattered as the cold dug into their fur. If this was a dream, it was a horribly realistic one.

They did the only sensible thing — trot towards camp. They knew camp was at least a little warmer than this frozen wasteland. The medicine cat’s paws were beginning to freeze. Brrrr. They disliked leaf-bare. The snow was fun for about 5 minutes, then it was just sad and miserable. As they created the ridge to camp, they were met with a horrid scent. All too familiar coughing plagued their ears.

Greencough.

Coldamber must need them! What were they doing out here? Snailswirl jogged and struggled through the snow as quickly as the could. They headed toward the medicine den, until more coughing caught their ear. From the warriors den? Their ears flattened. This was going to be worse than they thought.

That was when Snail noticed the fresh-kill pile.

Or, rather, the lack of it.

Suddenly, there was screaming. Wails of anguish. Cats too weak to go hunt in the bitter cold left to starve on the moors. Dozens of sick cats, the dreaded Greencough spreading through WindClan. Coldamber, Twilightstar, Breezefeather, nowhere to be found. It was practically a death sentence.

Tears pricked at their eyes, and they tried to blink the tears away. That was when the scene vanished. Replaced by darkness, along with a few glittering stars. Their heart was racing. Snailswirl felt a presence, as if they weren’t there alone. In the same instant, foreboding words whispered themselves in the cat’s ear.

"Preparation is key to the Wind. Remember, history tends to repeat itself..."