AN: This is a re-write of the terrible story we all know and hate, "Starkit's Prophecy". I will do my best to make it better, but quite honestly anybody could make this horrible story better.
The prologue.
A loud roar of a waterfall drowned out any other noises, three cats padding along the soft and pure white grass below them, their pelts starry and (for the most part) well groomed. A slight purr was able to be heard from a white furred tom, and beside him were an incredibly fluffy golden tom and a blue furred cat, her gaze stern.
"There is a prophecy-"she began, before being cut off by the golden furred tom, his voice deep and gruff.
"Bluestar, Whitestorm and I have found out a good while ago." He meowed, Whitestorm nodding in agreement, giving a kind smile as his ears flicked, jet white fur a bit wet from the flowing water nearby. Whitestorm spoke up, his voice soft and gentle, albeit wise.
"Indeed. Lionheart and I have looked into the pool earlier."
Bluestar nodded once, before meowing into the pool, sending a message to the blind medicine cat that belonged to the clan of Thunder, her voice dour and odd-,
"Within the creeping shadows with claws sharp as a tigers, they will fail to dismantle the heather that remains still and flamboyant…"