Disclaimer: Again, I would like to make it clear to people that I do not own WARRIORS. These characters, however, are mine. I apologize if any names or descriptions sound familiar. I try to make them as original as possible.

Dedications: To Abhorrentdeath, who died too soon. (He wasn't even NAMED!)

Author's Note: Okay. Here's the third person thing. Kind of. It's weird at the beginning. But yeah. I think it works.

Chapter One…

FATE

For everyone, Fate is mysterious. She likes to give, and take away. The world is like her dollhouse. But—and no one knows the reason for this one—She made life particularly cruel for the Clans.

Two kits were born; one to SkyClan the other to StreamClan. On the very same day, they were conceived.

We shall begin in StreamClan, with a young, russet tom.

"RUSTPAW!"

The ginger apprentice flinched, glanced back, then ran faster. So Hyenafur had noticed his absence. That mentor sure seemed to be keeping a closer eye on him, these days.

Rustpaw trotted along the borderline, looking longingly into SkyClan territory. They had more prey this time of year, and Oakblossom's kits had again started to complain. The tom shook his head. They didn't understand that there wasn't much food to spare.

The russet tabby looked out, narrowing his eyes as a mouse scurried in front of him. They were stupid creatures, he decided, pouncing on it just as it noticed him.

Then Rustpaw was knocked over.

A warrior purred appreciatively, "Good job, Blackpaw. Your stalk is excellent."

The other apprentice held Rustpaw down—he had surprisingly large paws.

The two stared at each other, yellow eyes connecting with icy blue.

Then the black apprentice stepped back. "Get out." He said with a slight tremor.

Rustpaw stared, puzzled, at the one called 'Blackpaw'. "But-"

"I SAID GET OUT!" howled the SkyClan tom, lashing out, claws unsheathed.

Rustpaw didn't wait for a third telling. He scrambled away, in search of Hyenafur.

"Blackpaw," Hollowstream said carefully, "why did you let him go? Didn't you see him stealing prey?"

The black apprentice avoided her gaze. "He wore his heart proudly on his pelt. His eyes told me everything. Besides, the mouse never actually died." Blackpaw shrugged. He began to walk back to camp.

Hollowstream was about to reply when her apprentice added, "Also, I had a dream about him."

"Oh?"

"His name is Rustpaw."

Bearstar paced, agitated, around his den. "You mousebrain!" he hissed, glaring at the trouble-making apprentice.

"I…didn't mean to cross the borders…" mumbled Rustpaw, scraping the dirt in front of him with a small, shaky paw.

Hyenafur growled low in her throat. "I told you to stay in camp today. You were supposed to help the elders! Not hunt!"

Rustpaw glanced at his mentor, a grim smile creeping onto his face. "Lionpaw asked me to help him," he confided in a low voice.

"You don't take orders from Lionpaw!" snapped Bearstar, brown tabby tail lashing back and forth.

The apprentice paused. "Uh…there's actually…another reason I went over to that particular border.

Bearstar's yellow eyes blinked in surprise, and he stopped his pacing. Both he and Hyenafur waited patiently.

"Y'see," blurted Rustpaw, "I saw Blackpaw in my dreams."

About a minute passed without a word.

"Are you sure?" inquired Hyenafur anxiously.

"I…wasn't, at first," admitted the russet tom. "But then I saw his eyes. The iciest blue…" His voice trailed off, and Bearstar didn't miss the hint of wonder in it.

"Rustpaw," he commanded gravely, "I forbid you to venture anywhere near SkyClan's border."

Later, the golden tabby, Lionpaw, was still apologizing. "I'm sorry! I didn't think you'd get in trouble!"

Rustpaw purred in false amusement. "S'okay, Lionpaw. I'm not in trouble. Besides, I knew I should have helped the elders."

The other apprentice shook his head. "You could have at least let me help you with that, by the way."

Rustpaw shrugged. He looked around, and cringed when he saw Hyenafur walked towards him.

The mentor glared fiercely at Lionpaw with sharp yellow eyes. The dark tabby was a formidable fighter, and the golden tabby knew so. He immediately scampered off, throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder at his friend.

"Rustpaw," Hyenafur growled, "do you realize how lucky you are?"

The ginger tom opened his mouth to respond, then closed it thoughtfully. He guessed it was a rhetorical question.

He guessed right.

"If this—Blackpaw, is it?—hadn't let you leave with just a muddy back, then there could have been war. StreamClan is already weaker than usual, Rustpaw. SkyClan would easily win."

Her apprentice looked away. "I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

Rustpaw met her gaze squarely.

"FateClan was calling me."

A grey she-cat calmly watched Blackpaw pace restlessly. "Blackpaw, I'm not mad," she soothed dreamily.

"Well, you should be!" he snapped back, then nodded in apology.

The she-cat took no notice. "Hollowstream's filled me in about the dream, Blackpaw…" she sing-songed. "I have nooo reason to be maaad…"

Blackpaw watched tensely as the once-muscled she-cat was led away by a much stronger-looking she-cat. He sighed with sorrow when she was gone.

The well-built she-cat came back. "Emberstar's time is almost up, Blackpaw. Every cat knows it. Even she does, some nights."

The apprentice locked eyes with her. "Meadowheart," he confided, "I fear for SkyClan."

The deputy looked away. "So do I. FateClan seems at our door, doesn't it?"

Blackpaw tensed immediately.

"I've dreamed about them as of late." Meadowheart watched him thoughtfully. "So has Emberstar, but she shrugs them off as fancy."

"FateClan is no nearer to us than usual," the apprentice growled, and immediately walked to the Apprentices' Den.