Quickfoot opened her eyes to see the lake, soft and smooth in the moonlight, with the faint outlines of starry warriors cast before it.
"Quickfoot," one of them whispered, its voice seeming to echo all around the lake.
She bowed her head to the ginger cat before her. It was unmistakable who he was. It was Firestar. His green eyes reflected the light of Silverpelt, and his fiery coat rippled in the quiet breeze. She looked up to the former ThunderClan leader. He had led the Clan for many moons, and did an excellent job at it. But, even with nine lives, he died like every other cat does.
"Yes, Firestar?" she murmured up to him.
"StarClan has a new prophecy for you. We trust that you will understand it and share it with the other Clans. It could cost every cat's life."
Quickfoot held her breath and looked at the StarClan warriors behind him. Leafpool, Cinderpelt, Bramblestar, Bluestar, Squirrelflight, and Sandstorm sat calmly, with their tails folded neatly over their paws.
"What is it, Firestar?" she asked anxiously.
"Four Clans will turn to three, if they do not blend to one. Trouble is near, Quickfoot. You are a great medicine cat. I trust you."
With that, he faded away into the darkness. Each StarClan warrior padded up to touch noses with her. Their light presence made her fur tingle, and she watched sadly as they, too, faded away into the night.
"Quickfoot! Wake up!"
Her eyes shot open, and she found herself surrounded by the aroma of herbs and cats. She was in the medicine cat's den. Her apprentice, Darkpaw, hovered over her. His bright blue eyes were full of concern.
"You were crying in your sleep. Did StarClan send a warning?" he mewed.
She swelled with pride. Darkpaw was learning quickly, and she had been thinking of giving him his name soon.
"Yes. I must tell Rowanstar now."
He trailed faithfully behind her as she strode across the clearing toward her leader's den. The mid-morning sun warmed her pelt, and she longed to doze in the sunshine. But there was danger to come, and cats to warn.
"Rowanstar?" she called in through the entrance.
"Quickfoot. Yes?" Rowanstar meowed back to her. She could just make out her long, ginger pelt in the dim light.
"StarClan has sent me a message of danger," Quickfoot answered, slowly ducking into the den. Darkpaw waited patiently in the opening, his eyes anxious, and his neck craning to see Rowanstar.
"Go ahead," Rowanstar mewed, her voice tense.
"Firestar told me that 'Four Clans will turn to three, if they do not blend to one'. That must mean that one of the Clans is in danger of being wiped out, and the other three must join forces to save them."
"This could happen any moment. We must warn the other leaders immediately," ThunderClan's leader replied urgently.
Quickfoot nodded and backed out of the den where Darkpaw was waiting. She glanced at him nervously. Any Clan could be in danger, and the only thing they could do was be prepared, and join together as one Clan. It reminded her of a time long ago, when Firestar was still ThunderClan's leader. The Clans had to journey over highrocks and other obstacles together, to save themselves. Cats died and some became traitors. Quickfoot wondered if the Clans were going to relive the past...