Wolfsoul gently licked the top of Jaykit's head. There wasn't something quite right about the kit, but even Stonepool couldn't figure it out. Hera and all four kits were sleeping, but Wolfsoul wasn't. He was worried.

The wolf-like warrior was worried about Jaykit, but most of all, he was worried about Starclan. Each sunrise they found more stars in the territory and less in the sky that night. If any more stars fell, Starclan might perish. The few that remained didn't shine as brightly. The skies were darker every night. The Dark Forest was doing pretty well taking over Starclan.

Wolfsoul knew that he has to stop them. Stop the Dark Forest before nothing was left. Even if he died trying. Every cat seemed to sense that the final battle was nearing. But no cat knew about the prophecy.

Disaster will strike, the best may fall, only one can save it all. Wolfsoul replayed it in his head. He did nearly every day. Starclan needed him now more than ever.

He got to his paws and headed over to the warrior's den, looking up at the barely shining few stars. He staggered into the den and carefully picked his way to his nest. He curled up and closed his eyes, hoping for the best.