The wind blows through the treetops on a very dark night. A lone cat steps out of the shadows into a clearing. He gazes at the moon as the wind ruffles the fur on his tail. The prophecy said it would happen tonight. Where was it? The fate of his clan- and the others -were in the paws of the prophecy. Minutes passed. The leafbare wind nipped and bit at his ears. Just as the cat was about to give up hope, a white she-cat emerged from the trees. Even in the darkness, the moonlight glinted off her fur. She was radiant. Tears formed in the first cat's eyes. The prophecy was true. "Snowrose." He breathed. "Hello, Coalstream." The she-cat pads forwards and touches noses with the black cat. "You have no idea how much I've missed you since-" Snowrose ran her tail along Coalstream's mouth to silence him. "I know, Coal. I've missed you too. I'm here for a different reason. The prophecy…."
The wind blew harder and the image of Snowrose quivered. "I cannot stay much longer. The prophecy says 'When all seems lost, three will rise again.' It was set into motion. I must leave. Coalstream, I- Don't forget me. I will always be watching. Good Luck." Snowrose blinked regretfully. The wind blew through Coalstream's fur, but Snowrose's fur stayed solid. Coalstream turned and headed for the trees again. He turned back, but his beloved mate was gone. Snowrose's scent still lingered in Coalstream's nose: Flowers, happiness, and the faint scent of the Thunderpath. Coalstream yowled in frustration. The thunderpath had taken her from him. With the moon shining overhead, he raced back to his camp.