DISCLAIMERS AND SUCHLIKE

1. I don't own Warriors. (Unfortunately. Aw man.)

2. The Clans in this story are totally of my creation. I have not ready any other fanfiction of the Warriors series and thus if my clan names collide, I apologize in advance. Please realize, however, that it was not at all intentional.

3. All characters are copyright moi, IzziCat.

4. Please at least leave a note if you read this! I love getting commments. 

Prologue

MoonClan roamed the mountains that night.

A big gray tom led the eager group, his green eyes sweeping the snow-dappled rocks and the dead grass between before he would allow the rest to follow. Tonight, he had only brought along those of MoonClan who had once belonged to SnowClan: Windpaw, Swiftkit, Blazeheart, and Stormface. The two other warriors shepherded the eager youngsters along, and while both the kit and the apprentice bounded along in the snow, laughing and teasing one another, an unusually solemn air hung over the group. The landscape could not have meant them harm, and nothing could really be foreboding that would put them in danger.

They were dead, after all.

MoonClan was made up of warrior ancestors—ancestors of the four highland clans: SnowClan, who chose to make their home closest to MoonClan, towards the peaks of the mountains; LeafClan, who thrived under the dappled shade of the evergreen forest below; LakeClan, who were avid swimmers and fishers and claimed the clear, cold mountain lake as their own; and ValleyClan, who lived farthest from MoonClan but perhaps no further away, down below in the green, lush valley.

The gray tom suddenly paused, one paw lifted. His ears flicked back. "Shhh!"

Windpaw and Swiftkit instantly fell silent, their eyes growing round. Blazeheart sidled up to the gray warrior, her shrewd gaze searching the moonlit snow ahead of them. "What is it, Grayclaw?"

"We're at the camp," he mewed softly. "I need to tell you why I brought you." He turned his green gaze to her face. "Don't I?"

"It would be polite of you," the dark tabby replied dryly. "We've only been dragged from our nests at this strange hour and forced to walk all the way across the mountain tops to get here. I've been to the SnowClan camp before, Grayclaw. What's going on?"

A blink. "Let's wait until the others get here."

The pair fell silent until Stormface at last managed to herd the younger cats onto the rock where Grayclaw and Blazeheart were standing. The pale tabby cocked his head, and the gray splotches on his head stood out in the moonlight. "Grayclaw?"

"We've reached the SnowClan camp," he announced softly.

Swiftkit stuck out her tongue. "Duh! I knew that before we even got here."

Stormface batted her lightly. "Shhh. Respect your elders, missy. Remember the Warrior code."

A roll of her eyes, but the little brown and white tabby kitten fell silent.

Grayclaw twitched his tail nervously. "MoonClan can't stand by and watch SnowClan come to ruin."

A look of surprise, then horror, passed across Blazeheart's face before her shoulders slump and she looked down at the rock with a sigh. "We've been through this."

"It was decided at the council that MoonClan is not to intervene," Stormface said gently.

"I know, but…"

For the first time, Windpaw spoke up, his green eyes serious. "Your loyalties lie with MoonClan now."

Grayclaw glanced at the apprentice, then frowned. "You agree with the other Clan ancestors, then? Or have you forgotten the Clan that birthed you? Cared for you?"

An uneasy silence had fallen over the other four cats, and they avoided Grayclaw's gaze. Finally, after glaring at each in turn, the gray tom shook his head. "I'll warn them myself, then." He bounded off the rock, landing silently in the snow below.

Windpaw grabbed for the tom's tail, but missed and fell off the boulder. With a sharp cry of worry, Blazeheart dove after him, followed by Swiftkit and then Stormface. Grayclaw paused and glanced back, a smug look on his face.

Blazeheart shook her head firmly. "We can't, Grayclaw. We would be defying that which we now stand for."

"And by going back—by telling the rest of MoonClan—you betray what you first stood for!" The gray tom did not return, but his fierce glare was evident even at the distance. He whirled and threw a last barb over his shoulder. "Follow me if you want your mates, your children, to live."

Five silent cats crept into the hollow that was the SnowClan camp. Past the new warrior sitting on silent vigil, her fur a patch of blood against the snow. Past the nursery, where a newborn kit mewled faintly for his mother. Past the warriors' den, where soft snoring could be heard. And Grayclaw stopped in the center, pausing to let the other four ghostly cats catch up. He spoke in a half-whisper. "Swifkit, go to the nursery. Tell the queens. Windpaw, the apprentices have to know as well. Stormface, speak to the warriors." The three nodded their understanding and padded away, leaving Grayclaw and Blazeheart standing nose-to-nose, their whiskers almost touching.

Grayclaw thrust out his chin defiantly. "Stop me."

"I won't," Blazeheart meowed, her tailtip twitching. A faint smile crossed her muzzle. "Stubbornness is rarely seen as a virtue, Grayclaw, but there are a few exceptions."

His shoulders slumped with relief. "Thank you, Blazeheart."

"This does not, however," she added sharply, her eyes narrowing, "mean that I do not intend to report back to the council." Grayclaw's face fell, but she went on without pause. "What you are doing is in direct disobedience to their orders. However…" Now she paused to lick her paw and swipe it across her ear. "…I, too, am loyal to my clan."

"Please speak to the elders and the medicine cat," Grayclaw said, turning. "I'm going to tell Falconstar myself."

A flicker of moonlight, and he was gone.

Falconstar turned uneasily in the fresh pine boughs. Their sharp scent filled his nostrils—Shadowpaw must have brought them in recently, he thought in his half-sleep—but it was not as comforting as it usually was. Even when he leaned over to bury his nose in Sandshadow's fur, the smell of his mate was not soothing enough to allow him sleep.

So, finally, the leader of MoonClan closed his eyes and began to imagine his former days—as an apprentice, as a warrior, and as the noble Brightstar's deputy.

Eventually, he grew tired of reminiscing and opened his eyes. A blink of his golden eyes. He was standing in the center of the camp, the snow cold beneath his paws, the moon bright above his head, his whiskers tingling in the slight breeze. It was so real…

…but when he saw the ghostly gray cat stalking across the snow towards him, he knew that it was a dream. He started forward, and a name sprang unbidden to his lips. "Grayclaw."

The smoky-furred tom dipped his head. "Falconstar."

Falconstar's mind whirled. Grayclaw had been a young warrior, killed just a season ago by a cougar that had unexpectedly intruded on the SnowClan camp. In his bravery—perhaps foolishness—Grayclaw had chosen to throw himself in the way of the cougar instead of running with the kits and apprentices to the hiding cave. He could have made it in time; instead, the cougar's teeth had found his throat and the hunting patrols returned to his bloody corpse.

Now, here he was, his eyes full of the wisdom of MoonClan far beyond his years with SnowClan. When he spoke, his voice was rich life. "I bring you urgent news from MoonClan."

Falconstar drew back. "Me? I don't share dreams with MoonClan. You should have gone to my medicine cat. I…I don't know how to interpret them, I don't know—"

"Shhh," Grayclaw meowed softly, putting a paw to Falconstar's muzzle.

At the touch, the leader of SnowClan was thrown into a new scene, one that chilled him. He was standing on the familiar boulder just outside of the camp, fighting to see against a roaring wind filled with icy snow. When he managed to open his eyes against the blizzard, he could just make out the faintest outlines of cats—his cats!—struggling along the cliff as they descended the mountain. Falconstar moved to join them, but as he did, one of the kits, bounding alongside its mother, spotted him and turned back, its eyes bright with joy. The wind caught it headlong and spun it over the edge of the cliff, wailing a horrible death cry.

Even as Falconstar lunged forward, keening his grief, the scene was gone and he was lying once more in the leader's den with Sandshadow breathing softly beside him.

Panting, the dark tabby looked wildly around the den. There was no sign of a ghostly cat, nor was there a shadow falling across the entrance. Slowly, his breathing slowed and he laid his head on his paws again. He would ask Firemask in the morning if she had seen anything. For now… Troubling as it was, he needed to sleep on the vision. Tomorrow he could speak with Ravenmoon. Tomorrow he could ask around, to see if any other cats had experienced strange dreams. Tomorrow he could worry about what the vision meant.

Tomorrow…