Chapter One
Buzzardstar tilted his head back, dark gray eyes fixed on the scattering of stars that freckled the sky. "Owlstream," he called softly, the tip of his long scarred tail twitching back and forth as the only sign that betrayed his inner agitation.
A lithe tom pushed his way from the fern-draped entrance of his fallen log den. The moonlight made his silver tabby fur glow with an otherworldly light as he padded silently across the sandy ground to leap gracefully to the top of the colossal stump that jutted up from the ground. "Yes, Buzzardstar?"
"Has StarClan spoken to you recently?" The leader asked, not moving his gaze from the shining expanse of Silverpelt.
"No, Buzzardstar," Owlstream confessed, ducking his head and muffling a sneeze as a breeze whispered over the silent camp. "Have you had a sign?"
"I believe so." The long-haired tortoiseshell jumped down from the stump, landing in a soft spray of sand. "Come with me; we need to talk."
Owlstream leaped down beside him, landing in a crouch to absorb the shock through his sturdy muscles. "What is it? What have our ancestors showed you?"
"Not here," Buzzardstar answered cryptically, not looking at the glossy-pelted medicine cat as he trotted quickly away from the camp, his bushy tail held high. "Follow me."
Owlstream cast an uncertain glance over his shoulder but obeyed his leader nonetheless, his pawsteps as noiseless as the deepening dark that stole over the land. The two cats made their way in silence, and Owlstream knew that whatever had happened, it was serious, for even though it was the last lingering days of leaf-fall, Buzzardstar did not stop to hunt even when a temptingly fat squirrel nearly ran right across his paws. He pushed his way through a thick clump of shrubbery, not seeming to notice when the prickly branches caught and tugged at his long fur. Owlstream shoved his way after him, wincing as the wooden claws scraped through his pelt.
Buzzardstar didn't stop until he sat at the base of an enormous pine tree that stood several feet apart from the surrounding forest in all directions; it was as though the rest of the life in the forest scarcely dared to grow close to this massive giant. "Sit," he invited.
Owlstream sank onto his haunches and wrapped his tail over his forepaws. "What is it?" He panted, leaning down to lick a scratch on his chest, courtesy of the prickly bushes.
"StarClan visited me in a dream," Buzzardstar said, raising his head and looking again at the stars strewn through the blackness above. "Our warrior ancestors were in a state of terrible distress."
Owlstream caught his breath. "Why?"
"Swampstar spoke to me," Buzzardstar went on as though his medicine cat had not spoken. "His exact words were 'Blood shall shake your Clan to the roots.'"
Despite hearing the words from StarClan, Owlstream couldn't help but feel a little irritated that he had been roused from his cozy nest just for that. "What do you think it means?" He asked, hiding his feelings.
"After Swampstar's words, I heard the bone-chilling cry of a cat," Buzzardstar told him. "It echoes in my ears even now..."
"What sort of cry was it?" Owlstream prompted gently.
"Terrible to hear," Buzzardstar sighed, his ears slumping to the sides in weariness. "Full of grief and agony, almost like the sound Hazelpelt made when she lost her kit..."
Owlstream couldn't hold back a shudder, shivering from nose to tail. "That cry haunts my dreams," he confessed, crouching lower to the forest floor, ignoring the prickle of pine needles against his pads. Eager to move from the topic of death, he looked up into Buzzardstar's gray eyes. "Did Swampstar say anything else?"
"Not Swampstar, but Whimbrelpelt," Buzzardstar supplied. Owlstream nodded, remembering the beautiful tan queen who had been the deputy Gullclaw's mentor. "She told me to beware of an untrustworthy cat, one whose face is familiar but whose heart is not."
"Ominous words," Owlstream murmured. Silence fell, stretching over the forest like ice stealing over a river, before the silver tabby dared to pose another question to his leader. "Do you have any idea who that might be? I can't think of any cat that would want to tear SmokeClan apart..."
"Neither can I, Owlstream," Buzzardstar sighed. He threw a glance upward at the splinter of moon that glowed coldly up in the sky. "We should head back," he meowed at last.
Owlstream nodded, only too glad to make his way back toward his warm nest; cold was seeping up through the pads of his paws, chilling him just as much as the enigmatic prophecy from his warrior ancestors.