From Mistpaw to the Beyond

Mistpaw, medicine cat apprentice of DewClan, awoke in her dream.

OOC: To respond to your little question (in the mind-set of Mistpaw), it's normal.

IC: Mistpaw awoke in a silvery clearing. Around her, if she looked, was a rushing silver river with shining stepping stones stretching across it.
Sitting on the center-most stone was a star-studded tom. He beckoned to the she-cat with his starry tail.

Mistpaw, while she wanted to stare at the unfamiliar territory, padded to the river's edge. Here and the surrounding territory smelled much like DewClan, which was comforting. But the rushing water put her off. The grey she-cat gulped but steadied herself, stretching out one paw, waiting until she was confident enough to go forward.
Slowly but surely she made it to the starry tom.

This tom, upon closer inspection, had dark brown fur and pale yellow eyes. This was not Jayleaf.
This tom looked at Mistpaw with a critical eye, a sneer just there at the edge of his lips.
"Mistpaw," he greeted her.

Mistpaw's first thought was that she didn't like this tom. He seemed almost out of place in what was usually a calm atmosphere, a place of wisdom and understand.
He was just judgmental.
Mistpaw had never seen this tom before so she dipped her head to him, mewing a short greeting.
Do I say anything else? Where's Jayleaf?

The tom stood, not minding the occasional splash of water that hit his face. His pelt was sleek and full, but he was strangely short and thin, an unusual look for a RiverClan tom.
"So," he mewed, his accent like that of the Clans but sounding older, more apart, like the root of the accent. "You're here to become medicine cat." His smirk became more apparent with his condescending tone. "So here I am. Here to..." He sighed, tasting for the proper term. "'Help' you on your way. Say the fun words, and all, since all the medicine cats have left you. The Healers, the Menders, other-Clanners - all have left." He stayed where he was, still staring at the gray she-cat with his judgmental eyes.
Mistpaw's feelings of unease were not wrong; in a way, he didn't belong. In another way, he really didn't belong.

OOC: I've personally always thought WindClanners were Scottish, ThunderClan Irish, RiverClan straight-up English, and the ShadowClanners having a cockney accent...well, sometimes I think their accents were slight, so there wasn't too much distinction between them since their imaginary location is in England.

Nowadays, the accents are basically the same, with some influence from the cats from the City who have a mid-American accent. Blah, blah, blah, Tribe cats are Welsh, ect...AbyssClan is Dutch, if anyone ever reads this.

ABYSSCLAN IS DUTCH. THEY SPEAK DUTCH (and some Latin).

"So why don't you," Mistpaw snapped suddenly, surprising herself. "Just get on with it. Give me my name and tell me my stupid prophecy, and leave me alone." She shook her head, scoffing; "You don't even want to help me - why are you here - where are the others?" She glared at the tom.

The tom smiled. It was slow and greasy, reeking of degeneracy. "My penance," he purred. "Taking a little, little bit off my...sentence."

Mistpaw felt her unease growing at a steady pace. "...Penance?"

The tom leered closer to her. "Do you like my pretty paper stars," he hissed, the stars in his pelt ripping away and into the river, blood flowing from where they once lay embedded in the tom's skin. "Pretty, pretty, pretty - once medicine cat, made murderer. Half-Clan, me - that's all they would give, don't you see, Mistpaw of DewClan?" Blood began to pour from his eyes. "That's all they would give you. Liar. Cheat. Usurper...Like me. They want nothing to do with you. So they sent...me." He jumped forward, sharing the same rock she stood upon, almost knocking off the she-cat.

"My name is lost, but I was medicine cat of WindClan - I'm one of your warrior ancestors, and how I look down upon you. You trained hard, of course, he tried to teach you well," he hacked up blood with each harsh syllable.
"And now see, see Mistpaw of DewClan? I need no promise from you - your path and oaths are quite clear to me. You will serve your Clan with every breath in your body till the day you die - and that day will be slow coming, and each breath will be as claws in your throat, the light as acid to your eyes. You will live long, Mistpaw of DewClan, but you will be as miserable and bitter. By the powers StarClan has given to me, you will be Mistjay - 'Jay', so you never forget the one whom you failed to heed, and the one whom you sent to this place ravaged and ruined, a wretched form of life so that even in death he will never know peace." The tom laughed maniacally.
"There's a special place for ones like us!" He shoved the she-cat off of the rock and into the rushing, hateful waters.

The tom's aura, by this point, was now apparent; he was like a stain in the beautiful realm - a weed of the worst kind in the greatest of gardens; a parasite. One of the Dark Forest.

Mistjay stared at the tom in horror as he had spoken, her guilt slowly turning into hatred towards herself as the tom described Jayleaf in his final rest.
No! It can't be true!
She was so shaken that she allowed the tom to shove her into the water - but it was the water that brought her back.
With a terrified shriek, the medicine cat lashed out with her claws and feebly grabbed at the stone.
"Wait," she wailed. "Is there nothing I can do? I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

The tom laughed cruelly. "'Is there anything I can do?'" he mocked in her own voice. "Mmm - no." He bit at the she-cat's paws and watched her go. As she swirled away he yowled, "Look not to the Abyss for your dreams - they care only for their own! Never trust - never trust!"
His voice echoed, deepened, grew to ferocious - then all was water, bubbles, foam, and a horrifying scream that was followed by a thousand others, they of pain and death.
Mistjay awoke.