The night was dark and eerily silent, as if the elements themselves were mourning Redtail's passing, marking the night with low lying white mist that crept across the camp to touch his russet fur, and a clear white moon gazing down benevolently from above. Silverpelt was clear tonight, and in vain Bluestar tried to pick out a new star among the throng, to see her faithful deputy- and more importantly, to seek out Oakheart, to see him smile and laugh and cry once more, before the end.

The leader sighed and leaned down to nuzzle Redtail's broken frame, her voice choked with emotion as she whispered,

"I won't forget you…"

She glanced up once more towards the midnight sky, her misty blue eyes reflecting the light of the full moon,

"Either of you."

She tucked her paws beneath her belly and settled down into the frosted grass, resting her head down on Redtail's cold flank and wrapping her tail around her shivering body for warmth. Leaf-bare had been hard this year, and though buds were showing on the trees, the chill had not yet left Thunderclan camp. Her mind wandered to Firepaw, the kittypet that showed such promise, and to Spottedleaf's prophecy.

Fire….Fire will save our clan.

Could it be him?

Suddenly, a shadow moved at the edge of the camp, and Bluestar scrambled to her feet hastily, hackles bristling, and hissed quietly. Most likely it was some apprentice sneaking out to get up to some mischief in the camp at night, but with foxes and badgers wandering the territory, you could never be too careful…..

But the scent she caught from the newcomer was not fox, or badger. It was cat, a dreadfully familiar smell, an impossible smell…

"Mosskit?" Bluestar breathed, straining her eyes to see as she stepped towards the shadowy intruder tentatively, "Is that you?"

The leaders whole body shook with tension, her eyes shining with hope- hope that her long-lost kitten had finally returned to her, had done the impossible and left Silverpelt to walk the forest once more.

Then the cat stepped from the shadows, and Bluestar gasped.

It was Mosskit, grown up and dreadfully altered. Her pelt had changed from grey and white patches to bright, clear silver dappled with frosty snow-white. But most noticeable of all were her eyes, no longer the bright, clear blue of kittenhood; they had darkened to pure onyx black, like twin tunnels of despair looking out from the beautiful she-cats face. But Bluestar was blind to all this; she saw only that her beloved child had returned home.

"But Mosskit," she gasped, her eyes wide with astonishment, "You….you died, in the snow. You died!"

The strange cat that was and yet was not Mosskit turned her head to face Bluestar, her blank eyes betraying no joy at he parents presence.

"No, Mother," she said, her voice quiet and velvety, "When you abandoned me for dead in the snow, it is true that I was very close to leaving this earth. But I lived still, and when the loners straying upon your territory found me, they saw my heart still beat. They took me, tiny kit that I was, to Bloodclan, and taught me to live and breathe once more."

Bluestar stared, astonished.

"Bloodclan?" she asked, sitting down with a thump as she feasted her eyes upon her daughter's skeletal frame, "There are only four clans in the forest."

"But many, many more beyond." The cat breathed, flexing her long claws. "They cared for me, taught me when you did not."

"But, Mosskit," Bluestar began, "It was for the good of the Clan!"

"I am not Mosskit," Bluestar's daughter hissed, her pupils dilated with cold rage, "That name is gone. You sacrificed me for the clan, and so your name disappears."

Bluestar leaned forward frantically to reach her daughter, her eyes reflecting the desperation not to lose her again after so many years.

"Then what is you name?" she asked, transfixed by the cats cold gaze.

"Moonstar," the silver she-cat answered, and dealt the older queen a mighty blow with silver paws, knocking her to the ground.

She did not get back up.

As her mothers last breath rattled trough the clearing, Moonstar leapt up upon the Highrock, standing tall over Bluestar's' limp frame.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather for a Clan meeting beneath the Highrock!" she yowled, her sleek silver fur bristling.

The clan stumbled out of their nests stupidly, still groggy from their long nights rest and half asleep after the troubles of the day.

"Wha-?" yelped Lionheart, the first to see that the cat upon the Highrock was not Bluestar, "Who are you? And where's Bluestar?" He bristled, baring his long, white teeth.

"Bluestar is dead, and rightfully so, for she abandoned her kits to die in the snow!" Moonstar hissed, casting Lionheart a long glance with her jet black eyes. He collapsed as though he had been dealt a physical blow, crumpling like a broken toy upon the ground. The rest of the clan stared, transfixed by horror.

"I, Bluestar's daughter, am you new leader," The wild she-cat hissed, staring at each of them in turn, "and you will obey me."

As she stared at each cat, something seemed to leave them, the glint in their eyes replaced by a manic, fanatical gleam,

"Moonstar! Moonstar! Moonstar!"

They chanted dully, all staring transfixed at the silver queen.

"Moonstar, new leader of Thunderclan!"