A lone speckled molly pads tiredly to a clear stream. The sound of the burbling water makes her flinch, reminding her of happier times. She sighs and dips her head, lapping at the crystal water. Seeing a bush nearby, she curls up underneath, closing her eyes tightly to fend off the memories, intending to stay for the night. However, her rest is interrupted by voices and prey-scent. She looks up and sees a small group of cats mingling and smiling. For a split second, she sees her old clan. When the vision passes she hears the voice of Silverpaw, and her heart aches with grief. “Revive BrookClan,” is all she hears from her former apprentice.
