Prologue.
"Do you believe we should remain silent?" The words travelled throughout the clearing, echoing slightly. The speaker, a jet black tom, asked his question not with hostility, but with genuine earnest. His companion stared at him, bemused by his inquiry.
"Whether or not we tell them, it will come to pass." The silver she-cat closed her eyes, confident in her belief. The outcome may not be set, but it would, without a doubt happen. It's how it had always been and how it would always be.
"Shouldn't we at least warn them? So they can prepare," the tom asked.
"Preparation may not save them Crowflight. I doubt..." her voice trailed off as her eyes glossed over. Her fur stood on end, sending Crowflight scrabbling backwards.
"After the storm, a fire will rise," she meowed, her voice becoming thunderous, "Earth and sky will become one. Fire and water will collide," her voice dropped down to a hoarse whisper. "The one who hides in the open will lie, and a warrior of black will die." She blinked and stared at Crowflight, who had retreated several fox lengths.
"It will come to pass," she repeated distantly.