Bronzepaw pov
It was now Starclan's time to shine; the sun had sunken, the moon watching the land. Bronzepaw always loved watching Starclan hunt, the occasional flying leap of the celestial cats, painting a fleeting trail of white across the hunting grounds. Bronzepaw leaped into a small tree, then a bigger one, climbing his way up, until he reached the favorite spot of Jungleclan; a cluster of maple trees, intertwined at the trunk. The sight was beautiful. After a quiet few minutes, a familiar warm breeze blew past. Behind the tom, a startling "caw" roused him from his trance-like fixation. Bronzepaw spun around, to find a crow, emanating a stark white from its every fibre of its being, but it was a warm light, not harsh. The young cat jumped away, but then drew close, attempting to smell, to taste the scent of the divine creature, parting his maw. He no longer felt afraid; instead he felt a belonging, a purpose..."gah!" Bronzepaw woke from the moss bed. It was just a dream, just a dream. But he felt that it was more than that. For the rest of the evening, Bronzepaw made himself useful. He hunted, cleanes the elders' beds, anything to fet rid of the nagging feeling of guilt and longing.