So heres the prologue, I can promise that you're going to love it! It has a lot of surprises.

PROLOGUE

Pain engulfed Batwing with a cold fire, and she let out a snarl of agony. Sweat had plastered her fur flat and her black pelt glistened in the light of the moon. Dewpelt's eyes flicked back and forth, the terror that this she-cat might die clear in her blue eyes.

The whole cave was lit up with moonlight and Dewpelt's stacks of herbs glowed with an eerie silver light. It was the thick scent of fear that made Cloverfoot enter the medicine cat den. The smell had made him cough and gag at the thick and pungent oder, and it filled the air around him.

"Is she alright?"

Dewpelt didn't answer him and continued to push at Batwing's stomach while shoving different herbs into the she-cat's mouth in a hurried frenzy. Finally her response came. "I'm not sure. There's a lot of them, and its going to be a hard kitting."

Cloverfoot stared at his mate, alarm tearing through his eyes. "She won't die will she?"

Dewpelt let out a raspy laugh. "She's a valuable warrior of Thunderclan. Do you really think I would let her die." Although her words were firm, her voice wobbled in uncertainty. At Cloverfoot's sharp look, she glared at him. "I don't know," she snapped. "I'm trying to concentrate on helping her, not comforting her stupid mate."

Dewpelt winced as she noticed her apprentice, Mosspaw shrinking away from the two fighting cats. Dewpelt flicked her tail towards the entrance to the cave, and Mosspaw obediently scampered out as fast as she could.

Cloverfoot watched the she-cat go and then he turned back to Dewpelt. "Can't you give me some reassurance that she'll be alright?" he cried, his lips drawn back in an angry and protective smile.

Dewpelt sighed. "She'll be fine, just give us some space."

Cloverfoot's mouth tightened into a thin line and he started to leave. "Call me back when her kits come," he growled, and he then stalked out of the cave.

Dewpelt let out a sigh of despair as she watched the tom go. She should have been more sympathetic, Cloverfoot was simply worried about his mate, however she had so much on her mind already. Her mind strayed to the disturbing dream that she had had the night before.

Stormpelt had come to her and foretold that there would be darker times ahead, times filled with betrayal and death. His prophecy had been simple yet it still sent shivers down the medicine cat's spine.

"Born from the greatest, some shall not be so, and only one can fulfill their destiny."

It had taken her a whole day to grasp ahold of the meaning, yet now she had begun to grasp its true meaning. "Batwing's kits," she murmured, repeating the thought which had been running through her mind all day. She stared ahead of herself at the moaning queen, her body cold. The true realization was slowly hitting her. "Only one can fulfill their destiny," she whispered. "Only one of her kits will be loyal to Thunderclan!"

She turned at the sharp cry from the queen. A kit was starting to push its way out. Dewpelt inhaled sharply and beckoned to Mosspaw who stood at the entrance to the medicine cat den. "Push!" she instructed, her gaze slightly panicked. Mosspaw nodded and raced over, pushing with all her might.

Slowly the first kit slid out. It had a pale silver pelt that seemed to glow. "Its a she-kit!" Dewpelt cried, gazing at the beautiful shining pelt.

Batwing reached over to where Mosspaw was licking the kit. "She's beautiful," she croaked, her eyes filled with love for her newborn kit. Suddenly she cried out again as the next kit began to come.

Dewpelt pressed her paws against the queen's stomach and pushed as hard as she could. As the kit came out, she quickly nipped open the sack, and began to lick it's white fur with warm clean strokes. "This ones also a she-kit!" she called to the anxiously waiting mother.

Batwing smiled as she gazed at the she-kit. "Is that all?" she asked nervously.

Dewpelt shook her head as Batwing's eyes widened. "One more," she said curtly. Slowly a kit began to slide out. Dewpelt smiled as she noticed the ebony black fur. "He looks like you," she whispered.

Batwing looked up. "A tom?"

Dewpelt nodded.

Batwing smiled slightly gazing at the small tom whom Dewpelt was furiously licking. "He looks like Nightclaw," she said quietly.

"What!" Dewpelt's head jerked upward in surprise. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Batwing muttered, still staring at the kit. "Nothing." She then stiffened as pain filled her body. "I thought you said that that was all," she cried, her eyes glazed over in pain.

Dewpelt stared at the she-cat in confusion. "I thought it was," she mewed, shock clouding her gaze. "I must have been wrong."

Suddenly, one last kit began to slide out. Dewpelt immediately bit open its sack and vigorously began to lick its tiny body. "Its a she-kit," she whispered.

Batwing gazed at her last unexpected kit, awestruck by the spotted pelt. "She looks like a cat from Leopardclan," she said softly, beaming.

Dewpelt also smiled. She must be the one to follow in her mothers pawsteps, shethought. The one destined for greatness. Tragic that the rest will never lead normal lives, they may even betray their clan for all I know. But I do know for certain that they will never achieve greatness.

She then turned to Mosspaw. "Go fetch Cloverfoot," she ordered. "He'll want to know his kits were born."

Mosspaw nodded and raced out of the cave to get the tom. In a few seconds Cloverfoot came racing in, his eyes stretched wide. "Where are they?" he demanded. "I want to see them."

Dewpelt smiled in amusement at the father's enthusiasm. "Don't worry," she mewed. "I told you would take care of everything." She led Cloverfoot over to his mate where the four kits were suckling.

"They're wonderful!" he cried padding over. "What do you think we should name them?"

Batwing laughed. "Already? But they were just born."

Cloverfoot nodded vigorously. "I know." He then looked down at the kits. "We should name that one Moonkit," he mewed softly.

Batwing looked up sharply. "No," she whispered quietly. "That would be too painful."

Cloverfoot shook his head. "It will be like preserving Moonpelt's memory. I never even knew her, but I've heard enough from you to want to name my kit after her."

Batwing smiled up at her mate, swallowing back the lump that had filled her throat. "Well then, I think thats wonderful idea. Moonkit it is!"

Cloverfoot beamed. "What about the white she-kit?"

For a second, an image flashed into Batwing's mind, a picture of an older white she-cat with big blue eyes. The she-cat stood next to a black tom and a dark brown she-cat. The white cat looked sad, as if she was saying goodbye to her friends. "Echo," she murmured. "We'll name her Echokit."

"Echokit? Are you sure?" Cloverfoot looked a little reluctant on giving his daughter the strange name. "I've never heard that name before."

Batwing shook her head. "I have. It belonged to a very brave friend of mine."

Dewpelt nodded. "I like the name," she mewed, smiling in approval. "It is unique, just like the kits themselves."

Batwing looked up in surprise at the medicine cat's remark but put it aside.

"The black tom?" asked Cloverfoot. "What should we name him?"

"Nightkit." Batwing smiled at the name. "Nightkit," she repeated. "I hope that one day he will be as brave as his name sake."

Once again, Dewpelt nodded. "You choose to remember the most important cats, Batwing. Your selection is wise. Starclan will not trifle with these kits if they were named to honor loved ones."

But Batwing shook her head. "I do not mind the trifling," she murmured. "Protection for them is what I want."

Dewpelt sighed. "I'm afraid that is too much to ask from Starclan. They might try, but you cannot be sure that they will succeed."

Cloverfoot looked at the medicine cat in confusion, not quite understanding what the riddles she spoke in meant. "I like the name Spottedkit," he blurted out, wanting to break the uneasy tension.

"What?" Batwing looked up at him in surprise. "Spottedkit?"

Cloverfoot nodded. "For the last she-kit. I like that name."

Batwing beamed. "Its perfect!" she cried. "Its suits her exactly." She then nuzzled Spottedkit closer to her. "You will be a great warrior, little one," she murmured. "I can see it in your eyes."

Dewpelt smiled as she began to leave. "I know she will," the she-cat murmured. "Spottedkit will achieve greatness."


Cold air blew through the empty night sky, causing small clouds to change their course of direction as if indecisive over which way to go. Bright stars glowed in the dark ebony blackness, covering it like a fur coat might on a cat.

The moonpool shimmered in the light of the stars, and its brilliance outshone any of the wonders of the Starclan forest. The pool reflected both the soft greenery and silent atmosphere of the forest, yet also that of a cat whose face was outlined with worry and confusion.

Her pelt was the hue of the full moon which hung suspended above her, and she had eyes which were a warm and welcoming shade of blue.

"I don't understand." Her voice broke through the silence although her tone remained a hollow murmur, with knowledge and the whisperings of the forest running through it. "I simply don't understand," she repeated. "This was something I had not predicted. Where did we go wrong?"

She shook her head in bafflement, twinkling bits of what appeared to be shimmering snowflakes drifting from her fur to the grassy earth.

The Starclan cat reached out and touched her paw to the surface of the Moonpool, her eyes hopeful as if to obtain answers from what images might appear. The water rippled at her touch, and once it had settled, the face of a black cat with four skinny kits resting against her side mesmerized into the clear pool.

An anxious looking tabby tom hovered over her, his eyes wide with affection and concern for his mate. The she-cat sighed turning away momentarily from the scene, as if she could sense she was intruding on a precious moment for the couple.

The Starclan warrior padded away from the Moonpool, her gaze troubled and grief filled. She looked up in surprise at a rustling in the underbrush. Her silver pelt prickled, but slowly relaxed as a familiar face popped into view.

"Nightclaw," she mewed in relief, ducking her head at the black tom.

Nightclaw padded forward, his dark coat shining in the light of the moon and his leafy green eyes gazing at her curiously. "What brings you up here at such a late hour, Moonpelt," he said quietly, making sure to keep his voice hushed in respect for the sleeping cats of Starclan.

"Same as you," Moonpelt replied softly, her voice tender. "The birth of your daughter's kits." She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowed. "You haven't told her yet have you? Haven't told her that you're here, with us."

With another skeptical look, the tom shook his head with a raspy chuckle, yet he did not answer her question, deliberately avoiding it. "The birth of kits should be a joyful occasion, especially for one so close to my dear Batwing, even to have one of the kits carry your name and legacy. Yet your eyes say much different things."

Moonpelt glanced up at Nightclaw, surprised, for she knew he was correct. She should be rejoicing at this news, however her fears concerning the dangers these kits would bring upon the clan she loved so much, this was what prevented her from happier emotions. With a sigh, she twisted her head around to look back at the Moonpool, where the image of Batwing, her mate, and her kits had melted away. Her eyes darkened. "I cannot be happy," she growled quietly, her words nearly lost over the whispering of the wind. "Everything is about to go wrong. Terribly wrong."


Moonkit snuggled closer to her mother's cozy fur. As the night wore on, she had continued to get colder and colder, and she hoped that soon sleep would claim her and carry her away from this dreadful feeling of frostiness.

Every time a shiver escaped her small body it became harder to breathe, and Moonkit whimpered as she struggled to inhale a gust of oxygen. She wondered what her mother's name was, and when she would be able to see and catch a glimpse of what each of the voices she had heard looked like.

A rustling behind her made the kit quake, yet she managed to scrunch her body up into a smaller ball and force all thoughts of fear out of her mind. She didn't quite know why she could sense fear, for her birth had just occurred and she had never known what true fear felt like.

However, this did not prevent Moonkit from sensing impending danger, although she could not quite process what she might be afraid of.

Another shiver racked her body, and Moonkit opened her mouth to let in the air, moaning as she felt a stabbing pain from somewhere deep in her little furry body. She lifted her head off of where it lay resting on the moss, struggling to inhale the sweet air.

Yet exhaustion prevailed, for she collapsed back on the moss, unable to move. She could feel her chest rising up and down as she breathed, but her lungs felt empty as if none of the air was reaching them. She yearned to cry out for help, to warn her mother that she was in danger, but her mouth did not know how to make these sounds.

Moonkit then felt one shallow breath slowly fade out of her, and she knew her wish for peaceful sleep was being fulfilled.

She inhaled once more, and sank down deep into the moss, feeling her last breath trickled through her as her body sank down in the escape of unfeeling darkness and death.

And Moonkit knew. Her death was only the beginning.

How'd everyone like it?

Before you review, I have a question for all of my readers. (Just add your answer in with your review)

Which cat would you like to return to the story?

-Blueflower

-Tansypaw

-Leappelt

-Blazestar