Generate a natural continuation of the following text. Try to keep your continuation consistent with the original. ONLY return the continued text and nothing else.



## Chapter 2
##### todo: he looks into the stream and sees his reflection again. the voice speaks to him again and again. sometimes it taunts him, sometimes it appeals to his ambition. they have a long conversation and the voice manages to gain his trust. then curl comes
##### todo: they have a convo; curl laments on how RC is turning weaker, less prey, troubles from other clans, scared that kits will grow up in a dangerous environment 


A shadowed silhouette prowled silent against a sky of dying stars. 

It made its way, half-concealed, through the RiverClan forest terrain, navigating the twists and turns until the 
# todo here

It had kept him up all day and all night, sometimes repeating its vague words, sometimes calling his name, chasing him as if he was a piece of prey. Wherever he went and whatever he was doing, the voice didn't stop.

*Listen to me, Splashpaw...*

He'd approached the medicine cats, of course; but as he expected, they didn't take too kindly to his vague tales of ghostly voices. "Well, we can't do anything about it, Splashpaw, " Mothwing had said sharply before halfmindedly offering him poppy seeds for sleep. Finally he had given up and rose from his nest, sneaking into the forest, wandering around aimlessly, not knowing where he'd end up, just hoping to find some solace in the darkness of the night.

The same stream, the same wild waters that rushed through it; only now it was enveloped in a layer of darkness, the moonlight barely skimming off its surface like a bitter afterthought. He crouched on the riverbank, looking at nothing in particular, hoping only to cease the persistent whispers echoing in his mind. He tried covering his ears with his paws. It didn't help.

From the depths of the dark water floated his mirror image, the stream seemingly slowing to a halt so that he could make it out more clearly. He squinted, and so did his facsimile; the sight was oddly poetic in a way he couldn't quite put into words. Was that a trace of distress he saw, mixed with the tiredness of one who had been haunted relentlessly by their internal voice? A perfect recipe for insanity.

*I thought you wanted to be a warrior.* A silky and persuasive tone this time; he should ignore it, shout at it, chase it away - but he was too tired to care. *You have dreams, ambitions… I can help you with them.*

Splashpaw’s ears twitched, leaning closer to the water, drawn in despite his fear. “How can I trust you?” he whispered angrily in response, searching the depths of his reflection. “You ruined my assessment. You made me fail.”

*I didn’t make you fail,* the voice countered softly. *You listened to your doubts, your fears. They were your own. And let's be honest, you weren't exactly close to passing* - he winced - *but there’s power in you. I see it. Think of what you could achieve if you just trust in me.*

"Oh yeah? Do tell." A sarcastic snort, followed by an impatient huff. The newleaf air was getting cold, as it always did at night, some of its coldness managing to infiltrate past Splashpaw's thick fur and making him shiver ever so slightly. "How convenient that you appeared *during my assessment*, hmm? You couldn't have done it *before*, perhaps?"

A short pause. A cautious edge in its voice. *You weren't ready then. I appear only to those who can accept me.*

"That doesn't answer my question! Ready for *what*? What in StarClan are *you*, anyways? Can't you see I have enough to be dealing with at the moment?"

*I’m a guide, nothing more,* the voice replied, and Splashpaw could imagine the annoyingly mysterious expression on its face if it had one. *I am, in a way, part of you.*

*But enough about me. Imagine the respect you’ll earn as a warrior who overcame his doubts. A warrior who stands out and leads his Clan into a new dawn. The path I offer is one only the brave and strong can walk.*

“What do you want from me?” His doubtful, hesitant voice was almost drowned by the stream’s gentle babbling. A pebble shifted beneath his paws, and he mindlessly picked it up, its hard yet smooth surface offering a small distraction from his whirling thoughts.

*It’s not about what I want,* the voice continued, smooth and unwavering. *It’s about what you want, Splashpaw. Your doubts, your fears—they chain you. But I offer a key. A choice. Will you continue on this failing path, or will you forge your own path, one that leads you to greatness?*

Lost for words, he gazed up at the sky, where stars blinked down at him. His mind was a torrent of thoughts, one crashing against another, yet in that swirl, a small spark of curiosity whispered.

“Forge my own path?” he murmured, almost to himself. The idea was tantalizing, intoxicating in its potential for glory and disaster alike. “And what if I fail?”

*Failure is just another step on the path. It teaches, it strengthens,* the voice answered with firm assurance. *And I will be there, offering guidance, should you choose to heed it. You will not fail.*

The pebble slipped from his paw; with a soft clink, it slid into the river gracefully, and in the flick of a tail was swept away by the steady current.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, his voice a bit steadier now.

*Don't take long. And if you still don't trust me, I'll prove myself, don't worry...*

At long last the voice ceased, faded away until it was no more than the hum of the chilling wind as it blew over to the river and chilled Splashpaw to the bone. It was getting really cold. He should go, but he lingered by the riverbank just a bit longer, trying to understand the bizarre happenings. 

*I am, in a way, part of you.* What was *that* supposed to mean? He knew he was nothing like that silky voice, full of words and promises and confidence in him. It had said it would guide him to be a better warrior - *a warrior who stands out and leads his Clan into a new dawn*. He liked the sound of that; it had a nice ring that burned in his chest and made him feel like he could take on the world. He didn't trust it just yet, but he'd have to wait and see if the voice was really going to help him.

It was in that silent acceptance, just as the breeze whispered through the trees behind him, that a new realization dawned. Quiet pawsteps approached, breaking through the night. Startled, he turned around quickly; It was Curlfeather, the queen who'd recently given birth to three kits last leaf-bare: Frostkit, Mistkit and Graykit. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing out here this late? I thought you had kits to look after and everything."

"