A band of cats raced down the hill from the mountains, towards a small clearing in the forest, surrounded by a thin stream. The cat in front was a large, strong white tom. His muscles rippled as he ran, slowing to a halt when his paws left the rocky mountains behind. He glanced behind him and nodded to the long-haired brown tom that had been keeping pace with him. They moved through the other cats, stopping to take a squirming kit each from the cat carrying it. The group of cats had stopped, too, to catch their breath. One pale brown she-cat dropped her mewling bundle gently at the paws of a tortoiseshell queen and padded towards the large white tom. "Are we doing the right thing, Destinystorm?" she asked quietly, her voice filled with despair. The tom nodded. "We have to go, Mapleleaf," he replied, licking her ear gently. Mapleleaf nodded and padded back to her kit. The white tom stood silently where he was, like a statue.
The long-haired brown tom padded back up to Destinystorm. "Every cat's alright to carry on," he reported, before noticing the look on Destinystorm's face. "Are we doing the right thing, Shardheart?" asked Destinystorm. Shardheart nodded.
"Yes, Destinystorm. We are." He replied quietly. Destinystorm seemed cheered by this. He turned around to the cats behind him, his gaze sweeping over them before letting it rest on Mapleleaf. She gave a tiny nod, and with that, the large white tom turned back and started to run towards the clearing. His cats followed him, matching every paw step he took.
Destinystorm gathered his muscles and leapt the stream easily. He padded through the trees surrounding the clearing to give the other cats enough room to jump. What met his azure gaze shook him; doubts and uncertainty washed over him yet again.
What if I've led them into a trap?
A large black and white tom, a little similar to Destinystorm padded to the white tom's side. If he was surprised by the desperation in Destinystorm's eyes he did not show it. "it will be fine, son," he reassured him. Destinystorm fixed him with a clear blue gaze. "Oh, I know, father. But the kits... if a battle starts then what happens to the kits?" The black and white tom could not answer. Destinystorm nodded and looked ahead again.
"Magpiewing!" The call came from a pure black tom, but with paws as white as Destinystorm. "Coming, Icefoot," the black and white tom called, giving Destinystorm one last, hollow look. He was the oldest cat in the group, and it was showing. His pelt was ragged and he was thin from the harsh leaf-bare. His eyes were gaunt and his ribs showed under his patchy, unkempt coat. Silver hairs were scattered around his muzzle and he bore the scars of a long, harsh life. Shaking his head gently, he padded off towards the black tom named Icefoot. Destinystorm sighed. Maybe they should leave. It was not safe to linger here.
Just as he was about to yowl to his cats to turn back, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned slowly, fearing an ambush, his heart hammering, dreading what he might see. What he did see did nothing to calm him, yet nothing to make his fears worse.
A band of cats were heading towards the clearing, jumping the stream with ease. The cat at the head, a grey she-cat, picked her way towards him slowly through all the gathered cats. "Destinystorm," she greeted him politely. Destinystorm nodded. "Wishwave. Have you seen anything of Mythstone and Secretheart yet?" he asked casually. Only his fur prickling along his spine indicated his hidden fears.
Wishwave seemed to understand perfectly. "No. But we were all summoned here. They will turn up." Destinystorm shrugged and turned away from the grey she-cat. Wishwave glanced around before padding back to her cats.
Destinystorm sighed, before pricking his ears up. There was no mistaking the rumbling of paw steps or the sight of many pelts bunched together in a bounding mass.
"Mythstone and Secretheart are here!"

Destinystorm watched two masses of cats leap the stream. One was lead by a short, stumpy brown tom; the other was led by a long-legged, graceful tortoiseshell she-cat. Both cats, once they had landed and checked on their cats, padded up to Destinystorm and Wishwave, who had joined him again. Destinystorm dipped his head. "Mythstone, Secretheart," he greeted them, addressing first the brown tom, then the tortoiseshell. Mythstone dipped his head in return. "Are we ready?" he asked gruffly. The other three cats nodded, and Secretheart yowled to the cats to sit. They sat in their groups, not wanting to mingle with other cats. There could be no friendship between them. Even the four leading cats were not very friendly; polite, yes, but not friends at all.
The cats sat, fidgeting, in an awkward silence for a few moments that seemed to drag out forever. Even the kits were quiet. Suddenly, a ginger tabby sprung to her paws; she was a cat who had arrived with Mythstone. She called out to the four cats in front, her fur bristling. "What are we waiting for? Or is this a trap?" Her glittering green eyes never left Secretheart, who hissed and stepped forwards. "Mousebrain! Do you think we want another fight?" she spat challengingly. Mythstone snarled, spinning around to face Secretheart. "How dare you called Dawnflower a mousebrain!" he growled, unsheathing his claws. All of Secretheart's and Mythstone's cats tensed, unsheathing their claws and spitting, ready for a fight. "Oh, I 

dare," secretheart replied smoothly. With a snarl Mythstone launched himself at her. Instantly the clearing turned into a battlefield; a mass of writhing, screeching cats, Claws and fangs flashed, spattered red with blood. Wishwave and Destinystorm exchanged worried glances; their cats edged away from the fight. No cat knew what to do. All Destinystorm could think of was the kits. "Someone save the kits," he whispered. But he was frozen to the spot with shock, watching the horror unfold.
"Stop."
Every cat froze, some with a paw raised ready to claw their opponent. Mythstone and Secretheart were both reared up on their hind legs, ready to claw each other, but they froze at the voice- or voices. There seemed to be the voice of every cat ever know to the land, all squeezed into the voice of one cat.
Every single cat turned to watch as a small brown tom stepped into the clearing. But he was no ordinary tom.
His pelt glittered with the stars.

The tom stopped in front of the cats, gazing at them. For a long moment that seemed like hours but could have been no more than a second he let his gaze sweep over the four groups of cats. Then he gazed directly at Mythstone, turning to the side. Gasps came from most cats in the clearing; the tom had a slash down the side of his face, tearing his ear in two.
"This is what you did," the tom told every cat. "If you do not stop fighting then every cat will end up like me. That is not what you want, is it? Is this the life you have planned for your kits?" Cats shuffled uneasily, glancing awkwardly at each other. Mythstone glanced upwards, his eyes unusually bright. "Brother, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I will avenge your death, I promise." The brown tom growled slightly.
"Mythstone, did you listen to me? That is not what I want. I want peace, Mythstone. That is why I have brought these cats with me." He stepped to the side to allow four more cats into the clearing; an elegant, blue-grey she-cat; a black and white tom; a huge light tabby tom and a black tom. Each of them glittered icily with the stars above, and fanned out, flanking the brown tom; the she-cat and black and white tom on the left, and the tabby and black tom on the right. The she-cat spoke first. "Cats gathered here, you have seen what your fighting has done. You have killed many cats; you have lost, sisters, brothers, kit, mothers, fathers and mates. But it seems you will not stop until all of you are dead. That is why Rockheart brought us to intervene." The black and white tom stepped forwards, taking her place.
"Bluestar is right," he told the cats, flicking his tail at the she-cat. "But we are here to bring you out of this dark age into the light. The light of StarClan." He paused for a moment. "We have all been leaders of Clans when we lived. Now we hunt with StarClan, as you will. Though our hunting grounds will be different, you will need us to establish the warrior code. But after tonight, you will not see us again." The black and white tom dipped his head, standing back and allowing the light coloured tabby to step forwards. His jaw was twisted, like it had healed badly after being broken. He began to speak immediately.
"Our own lives have been hard with fights, but we were warriors! We did not fight as you did. But once, many moons ago, so long ago that no cat in living memory can remember it, we were like you. We fought for no reason. Cats died for no reason, until out of many, only four cats were left. Is this what you want to happen?" he stepped backwards, and the black tom stepped forwards.
"We are here to save you. You will be warriors, like we were when we lived. You will live like we did. We are here to save you from destruction. You will live your lives in the sight of StarClan. We are here to save you; we are here to turn your lives from the black darkness of nothing to basking in the light of StarClan." The brown tom stepped forwards next.
"If you do not do as these cats have said then you will be destroyed eventually. It is your destiny." He glanced again at Mythstone. "It is your choice."

Destinystorm stared at the brown tom. He was about to speak when Rockheart dipped his head. "Of course, you must talk about this," he told them, flicking his tail. Destinystorm nodded and his cats moved into a large circle to discuss the proposal, as did all other cats in the clearing apart from the five starry cats.
"Should we do this?" Larksong, a small tortoiseshell she-cat, asked immediately. No cat knew what to reply; they were all wondering the same thing. Destinystorm, however, looked straight into Larksong's worried amber gaze. "I think we should. I trust these cats. But more than that, I don't want our kits to have to live this life. If we stay as rogues, fighting for every tiny scrap of prey then their lives will be filled with misery. Are we agreed?" A few cats murmured assent, before the whole group agreed. A few days ago they would never have accepted the idea but after seeing the horror of a rogue life doubt had been chased from their minds. Twitching his ears, Destinystorm turned to face the starry cats. "We will take part in you... idea," he called out. The starry she-cat exchanged a glance with the black tom and leapt over to the in a single bound.
"I am Bluestar. Before I lost my ninth life I led ThunderClan in a land far from here. I will return to watch over ThunderClan but first I must help you. With the help of Tallstar, Nightstar and Crookedstar you will become Clans."
"Wait." A dark brown she-cat called. "Are you trying to turn us into the Clans you come from?" she growled, narrowing her 

eyes. Bluestar laughed.
"No. We were called by Rockheart to help you, and that is what we will do."