Prologue
The moon reflected off of the starlit pond. The hollow was unnaturally silent, as if holding its breath, the atmosphere heavy and oppressive. A feeble breeze did its best to stir the grass in the hollow, but nothing could shift the stifling feeling that clung stubbornly to the air.
The undergrowth rustled. A ginger cat melted from the shadows in the brush and stepped forward, then began making his way down to the pool, stars sparkling in his fur as he moved. His pawsteps were heavy, and his tail dragged on the ground behind him.
Another starry cat stepped from behind a tree and eyed its peeling bark with distaste.
"This is a disgrace," the matted gray she-cat growled with a flick of her ears. Dead grass crunched beneath her paws as she stiffly made her way down to the pool. "In my day, the medicine cats would have shuddered to see us in such a state."
"That time has passed," the tom mewed quietly, his eyes fixed on his reflection in the water.
It's been so long, he thought uneasily, staring into his own green eyes. To think that hope has come after so many seasons…
He felt a twinge as he remembered his friends who had already faded.
But is it too late?
He didn't look up as more cats padded from the bushes. Their pelts shimmered as they took up places on the ledges around the hollow, their posture betraying their unease.
When the pawsteps had stopped, the tom looked up again. The scruffy cats had finished gathering around the water's edge. The hollow almost seemed too large for them, and the gaps between them looked strangely empty. The bare places made them look small.
They looked at him expectantly, their gazes guarded.
"Well, Firestar?" a tom finally meowed, flicking his tail. He was one of the largest cats there, but also one of the most faded. The hollow beyond was clearly visible through his golden pelt. "Why have you gathered us here?"
The ginger tom looked stricken. "Is this all?" he whispered, his green eyes wide.
"You can't expect many to survive after so long a silence," a younger gray she-cat pointed out reasonably. "Most cats gave up hope."
"There is always hope," Firestar said harshly, his fur prickling.
"I never said there wasn't," the she-cat mewed calmly. Only her twitching tail-tip gave away her amusement, and she and the older gray she-cat exchanged a knowing glance.
Firestar's eyes flashed. "This isn't funny, Cinderpelt," he hissed, standing up. He began to stalk back and forth along the pool, lashing his tail in agitation. "This could be our last chance to revive our Clans."
Cinderpelt bristled. "I know it is. What's gotten under your pelt?" she muttered.
Firestar stopped pacing. He turned and looked at each cat around the hollow in turn. His heart twisted at the sight: every cat there was transparent, their starry forms merely an outline against the forest beyond. He looked down at his own paws, and could see the rock through them.
Firestar bowed his head.
"StarClan is fading," he meowed quietly.
A few of the cats around the hollow nodded. They all looked solemn.
"So?" a faded brown tabby tom mewed, his tail twined with that of the gray-blue she-cat next to him. "What can we do about it?"
Murmurs of agreement echoed through the clearing. "We have made so many attempts before," the she-cat at his side mewed softly. Her blue eyes were dull. "Nothing has worked."
Firestar looked at her sadly. "Even you, Bluestar?"
The she-cat turned her head away, staring at nothing. She had obviously given up. Her companion rubbed his flank against hers soothingly.
Firestar looked away from the pair. It didn't matter now. The stars were finally shifting in their favor, and destiny was smiling upon them.
Soon, he thought with a glance at his former mentor, Soon you will have hope again.
"Four kits have been born," he announced, raising his voice.
A snort sounded from the edge of the hollow.
"So?" a voice called. Firestar's whipped around to meet the brown she-cat's mocking stare. "In case you've forgotten, Firestar, kits are born all the time."
Amused mrrows followed her comment. Though her taunt might once have made his pelt hot with embarrassment, he had long since become immune to such biting words. His voice was calm as he responded.
"Not like these, Mousefur."
He held her gaze until she looked away, then turned back to the assembly.
"These kits have an unusually strong connection with StarClan," he informed them.
Like ice melting after after a frost, excited mews began to bubble up around the clearing. Ears pricked, and eyes looked bright for the first time in seasons. Firestar felt relief flood his pelt. They finally have hope again.
It was like a torrent had been released, as if they had all been given new life. Discussion of dreams and speaking with the newborn kits was already beginning, and all of the cats were moving down to circle around the pool's edge. They peered excitedly at the image now forming there.
Four tiny kits, curled against their respective mothers' stomachs, all of them unknowingly intertwined.
Firestar heard Cinderpelt whisper beside him, "Don't worry, little ones. You're safe in the paws of StarClan now."
Silently, he agreed with her. You will all be remembered for seasons to come.
His eyes burned with determination as he watched a tiny cream-colored she-kit mewling at her mother's belly.
He looked up at his Clanmates. "This is our last chance."
The meows died away immediately. All of the cats in the clearing took on somber expressions, their own eyes lit with the same passion as Firestar's. At that moment, they exchanged a silent vow.
"This time," Firestar meowed, voicing the promise aloud, "We will not fail."