He stared down into the water, as motionless as the rocks around him. A pale gray blur appeared on the surface of the pool, and all the cats craned forward to see it more clearly.
“That one?” murmured the blue-gray cat, staring at the shape in the water. “Are you sure, Oakheart?”
The tip of the bracken-colored tom’s tail flicked back and forth. “I thought that choice would please you, Bluestar,” he meowed, amusement in his tone. “Do you not think she was well mentored?”
“She was excellently mentored.” Bluestar’s neck fur rose as if he had said something to challenge her, then lay flat again.
“Does the rest of StarClan agree?” she asked.
A murmur of assent rose from the watching cats, and the pale gray shape thinned and vanished from the water, leaving it clear and empty again.
Now the black cat stood up and padded to the very edge of the pool. “Here is my choice,” he announced. “See and approve it.”
This time the shape in the pool was tawny-colored and lean, with strong, well-muscled shoulders. Bluestar gazed down at the image for some moments before nodding. “She has strength and courage,” she agreed.
“But Nightstar—does she have loyalty?” called another cat.
The black cat’s head whipped around and his claws dug into the ground in front of him. “Are you calling her disloyal?”
“If I do, there’s reason for it.” The answer was shot back.
“She was not born in ShadowClan, was she?”
“Then that could make her a good choice,” Bluestar meowed calmly. “If the Clans cannot work together now, they will all be destroyed. Maybe it will take cats with a paw in two Clans to understand what has to be done.” She paused for a moment, but no other objections were forthcoming. “Do StarClan approve?”
There was some hesitation, but it was not too long before soft meows of agreement came from all the assembled cats.
The surface of the pool rippled briefly, and when it stilled again the tawny shape had gone.
Another black cat got up and approached the water’s edge, limping on one stubby, twisted paw. “My turn, I think,” he rasped. “See and approve my choice.”
The gray-black shape that formed in the pool was hard to see against the reflection of the night sky, and the cats peered at it for some time before anyone spoke.
“What?” the bracken-colored cat exclaimed at last. “That’s an apprentice!”
“I had noticed, thank you, Oakheart,” the black tom meowed dryly.
“Deadfoot, you can’t send an apprentice into danger such as this,” another cat called from the back of the crowd.
“Apprentice he may be,” Deadfoot retorted, “but he has courage and skill to match many warriors. One day he might make a fine leader of WindClan.”
“One day is not now,” Bluestar pointed out. “And the qualities of a leader are not necessarily those that the Clans need to save them now. Do you wish to make another choice?”
Deadfoot’s tail lashed furiously and his neck fur bristled as he glared at Bluestar. “This is my choice,” he insisted. “Do you—or any other cat—dare to say he is not worthy?”
“What do you say?” Her gaze went around the circle. “Do StarClan approve? Remember that every Clan will be lost if one of our chosen cats should weaken or fail.”
Instead of a murmur of approval, the cats muttered at each other in small groups, casting uneasy glances at the shape in the pool and at the cat beside it. Deadfoot stared back with fury in his eyes, his fur fluffed up so that he looked twice his size. He was obviously ready to take on any cat who challenged him.
At length the muttering died away and Bluestar asked once again, “Does the Clan approve?” The assent came, but it was low and reluctant, and a few cats did not speak at all.
Deadfoot let out an ill-tempered growl as he turned and limped back to his place.
When the water was clear again Oakheart meowed, “You have not yet made your choice for ThunderClan, Bluestar.”
“No—but I am ready now,” she replied. “See and approve my choice.” She gazed down proudly as a dark tabby shape formed in the depths of the pool.
Oakheart stared at it, and stretched his jaws wide in a soundless mew of laughter. “That one! Bluestar, you never cease to surprise me.”
“Why?” Bluestar’s tone showed she was nettled. “He is a noble young cat, fit for the challenges this prophecy will bring.”
Oakheart’s ears twitched. “Did I say he was not?”
Bluestar held his gaze, not looking at the other cats as she demanded, “Does the Clan approve?” When the agreement came, strong and certain, she gave Oakheart a contemptuous flick of her tail and looked away.
“Cats of StarClan,” she meowed, raising her voice. “Your choices have been made. Soon the journey must begin, to meet the terrible storm that will be released on the forest. Go to your Clans, and make sure each cat is ready.”
She paused, and her eyes blazed with a fierce silver light.
“We can choose a warrior to save each Clan, but beyond that we cannot help them. May the spirits of all our warrior ancestors go with these cats, wherever the stars may lead them.”
Chapter 1
Leaves rustled as the young tabby cat slid through a gap between two bushes, his jaws wide open to drink in the scent of prey.
On this warm night in late greenleaf, the forest was full of the scuffles of tiny creatures. Movements twitched endlessly at the edge of his vision, but when he turned his head he could see nothing but thick clumps of fern and bramble, dappled with moonlight.
Suddenly he stepped out into a wide clearing and gazed around in confusion. He could not remember being in this part of the forest before. Smooth-cropped grass, glowing silver in a cold wash of moonlight, stretched in front of him as far as a softly rounded rock where another cat was sitting.
Starlight sparkled in her fur, and her eyes were two small moons.
The young tabby’s bewilderment increased as he recognized her. “Bluestar?” he meowed, his voice shrill with disbelief.
He had been an apprentice when the great leader of ThunderClan had died, four seasons ago, leaping into the gorge with a pack of blood-hungry dogs after her. Like all her Clan, he had grieved for her and honored her for the way she had given up her life to save them. He had never thought to see her again, and he realized for the first time that he must be dreaming.
“Come closer, young warrior,” Bluestar meowed. “I have a message for you.”
Shivering with awe, the tabby tom crept across the shining stretch of turf until he crouched below the rock and could look up into Bluestar’s eyes.
“I’m listening, Bluestar,” he mewed.
“A time of trouble is coming to the forest,” she told him.
“A new prophecy must be fulfilled if the Clans are to survive.
You have been chosen to meet with three other cats at the new moon, and you must listen to what midnight tells you.”
“What do you mean?” The young cat felt a prickle of dread, cold as snowmelt, creep down his spine. “What kind of trouble? And how can midnight tell us anything?”
“All will be made clear to you,” Bluestar replied.
Her voice faded, echoing strangely as if she were speaking from a cavern far beneath the earth. The moonlight also began to grow dim, leaving thick black shadows to creep out of the trees around them.
“No, wait!” the tabby cat cried out. “Don’t go!”
He let out a terrified yowl, thrashing his paws and tail, as darkness rose up and engulfed him. Something poked him in the side and his eyes flew open to see Graystripe, the ThunderClan deputy, standing over him with one paw raised to prod him again. He was scuffling among the moss in the warriors’ den, with the golden sunlight leaking through the branches above his head.