Prologue

A single leaf relinquished its post on a magnificent oak, spiralling down to the forest floor, making its final journey as a member of the forest. The sun dipped just below the tree-tops, bathing the golden-amber scenery in a brilliant red hue as the moon rose up to replace its tired companion, returning once again to its silent vigil, watching over the three Tribes as leaf-fall settled in.

The golden leaf flitted between pine and birch, drifting past glorious beech and sapling maple, and finally coming to rest in a small clearing next to a fallen oak, hollow from countless seasons of enduring the elements. Inside the oak, a smoky tom was nudging a claw through stacks of various herbs and berries, his usually vague blue eyes focussed and calculating. 'Watercress, coltsfoot, juniper berries, catnip…' His crisp voice rattled off the names of the invaluable items in front of him. Being the only cat in TreeTribe who truly knew the value of the leaves, especially with the soon onset of leaf-bare, the tom took special care in keeping a well-stocked supply.

With a yawn the tom retracted his claws and padded out of the oak, yawning as he arched his back and stretched. Gathering himself up, he leaped onto the sturdy surface of the tree, sitting with his tail over his paws neatly as he gazed up at the night sky, a habit that he had enjoyed since kit-hood. Skyheart was always known as a dreamer by his tribe, but he had earned their respect tenfold over the few seasons that he had been medicine cat, his connection to their ancestors apparent in almost every action he ever made.

Across the clearing, a light grey tabby emerged from the nursery and, spotting the healer, made his way over to the oak. Settling next to him, his lean muscles rippling beneath his pelt, Stormstar lifted his own blue eyes to the stars. 'What do our ancestors have to share with us tonight, my good friend?' The leader's low mew seemed to float in the air, his words heavy in the crisp dusk of leaf-fall.

His healer blinked slowly without answering, his attention still focused on the moonless sky. The young tom shivered suddenly, a small breeze ruffling his pelt. 'There is unrest across the stream, Stormstar,' he murmered, green eyes mournful. 'This will be a harsh leafbare, for all of the tribes.' The tom stiffened suddenly, his fur bristling, eyes a misty lime rather than the crisp emerald that accompanied the healer. 'The stars will guide the moon home to watch over the forest.'

The leaf-fall wind became harsher as it left the forest, bending stalks of heather on the field of rocks and hills across the river. A dip in the landscape revealed a muddy brown tom pacing violently outside one of many caves, his long tail lashing the ground in frustration as a thin wailing filled the camp, setting all cats on edge. EarthTribe was dealing with too many problems, and the deputy knew it.

Across from the angry tom, a black she-cat with white fleck emerged from the nursery, grim. Duststar, EarthTribe's leader, let out a sigh as the wailing from within the cave continued, it's source a grieving queen. The stars are not being kind to us this season, she thought silently, her expression showing nothing to her approaching deputy. Buzzardpelt narrowed his eyes as Duststar faced him, giving him a small nod. The deputy growled softly in frustration. Flicking her tail, Duststar signalled to another she-cat, Nightfeather, and two toms, Dirtclaw and Stonetail. The five cats quickly made their way to the leader's den, another slightly smaller cave that dipped down into the earth.

Buzzardpelt erupted as soon as they had made it into the safety of the den. 'This is a disaster,' he growled, his claws gouging the sandy floor. 'First Heatherstep's kits, now this! Sunpetal's litter are the second this season that we've lost!'

Duststar hissed at the deputy, her eyes revealing the pain she shared with the mourning queen. 'What do you suggest we do, Buzzardpelt? Birchleaf is good, but no healer can bring back the dead!' Nightfeather rested her tail on her friend's shoulders, comforting the distressed leader.

Dirtclaw's low mew broke the silence, 'Heatherstep and Sunpetal still have milk for kits…' He trailed off as the two she-cats glared at him, their blue eyes piercing the brown tabby's yellow.

Nightfeather bristled, the black fur around his shoulders standing on end. 'Are you suggesting that we steal kits?' she hissed, unsheathing her claws and digging them into the sand.

Buzzardpelt stepped in front of Dirtclaw, his amber eyes burning her pelt. 'That's exactly what we are suggesting,' the deputy said coldly.

'That's absurd, Buzardpelt!' Duststar's shocked mew cut in, crackling in the tension like lightning. 'I will not separate a kit from its clan for anything. Not for all of the lives that our ancestors could offer me.' The leader's ice blue eyes glared at the three senior warriors, her decision final. The three toms retreated back into the safety of the hollow, the wind piercing the otherwise silent night above their heads.

Stonetail bristled, his long claws extended as he stalked towards the other two. 'We can't just sit here and do nothing while EarthTribe goes into leaf-bare with no kits. There are barely enough lower's as is!' One such lower, Hawk, made his way into camp with Windheart, his higher, and a small thrush that must have ventured too far out of the forest. The pair dropped their measly catch on the dwindling fresh-kill pile and made their way to their respective dens, hungry. Stonetail growled at the sight of how little prey was available to the clan.

Buzzardpelt couldn't take it anymore. Those mangepelts in TreeTribe had all the prey that StarTribe could offer, and more kits than they knew what to do with. He looked up at his companions, and decided that something had to be done. 'We won't just sit here, then,' he growled, amber eyes gleaming, and he hatched a plan to the other two.