If an eagle had chosen to spread his mighty wings and take to the sky on one particular day, he might have seen a very strange sight.
If he had soared over the lofty peaks of the frigid mountains, made misty by the melting snow of newleaf, and swooped down over a desolate wood, he would have found himself gliding over a river, sludgy grey with ash and soot. Thin charred strands of charcoal-black trees stabbed at a sweet blue sky while the rest of the earth was dead and lost.
Three suns ago a group of young humans arrived with violent gifts of orange flame hidden safely from forest eyes. They had hoisted their strange dwellings and called the burning light to life, feeding it on twigs and leaves until the novelty of trees and deer seemed to wear off. They had kicked the fire into submission, burying it in its own waste, before felling their tents and climbing into their cars and driving away.

But the fire was still very much alive and all it needed was a strong breeze to kiss away the choking soot before it raged against the forest and reduced an entire world to ash and dust.
Though saddening, it would not be the burned wasteland that would shake the eagle, for these things were sadly common. The rains, which might have safeguarded the forest against such an occurrence, had yet to arrive. The whole stretch of land was silent and empty save the polluted river, wearily carrying its burden of destruction further downstream.
Empty of life except for three creatures who were tracking steadily by the river, and it would be this that would shatter the eagle's perception.

Leading the way was a silver she-wolf, very large for the standards of her kind, holding her tail and head high as she paced briskly ahead, her glittering fur obscured somewhat by the clouds of ash. Just behind her, padding at her heels, was a tiny brown-and-white tom-cat, who kept jerking his head back and forth.
And then, trailing several fox-lengths behind both of them, almost invisible in the dark earth, came a black she-cat. Her head was also held high as she walked on.
If the eagle had been of a mind to fly closer and observe this strange phenomenon, he might have noticed the way the small tom seemed to hunch in on himself, as though he feared the whole world might collapse around him. He would have noticed that though the black she-cat carried herself loftily, her strides were strangely small and uncertain. He would have seen the way the she-wolf's spine bristled every now and again and her tongue would flash out and clean her fangs.

But the bird would have to have been watching them for many suns to truly understand their thoughts and feelings. As Matilda led on, her heart burned with a kind of bloody violence that only the true wild predator could have a hope of understanding. Rabbit That Leaps Over Stream looked around himself and found only fear in every step he took; fear of the wolf who was his keeper; fear of the she-cat who had betrayed him; fear of this strange and broken world that his paws crushed into.
And Hollyleaf felt neither rage nor terror, though deep within her soul, vengeance burned like the dormant campfire. Her eyes and mind were shadowed with a blank darkness that she felt herself slowly slipping into. Only her quest held it at bay; her quest to destroy the Clans who had taken everything she had ever loved-her home, her family, her future, and now her mate. Whenever Rabbit or Matilda made a comment, she would often turn her head, searching for his warm golden presence to gauge his expression. But Saffron, just like Squirrelflight, Crowfeather, and Ashfur, were gone forever.

When she had found the wolf's trail and caught up to them both, Hollyleaf had expected an inquisition, especially from Matilda, who had apparently made it clear that the self-exiled warrior would be eaten if they met again. But the she-wolf had said nothing. Indeed, it was almost as though she had expected Hollyleaf to find her. Matilda had merely asked quietly where Saffron was, and Hollyleaf's simple, two-word answer, had apparently been enough for her.
Rabbit was almost as scared of Hollyleaf as he was of the wolf, and she remembered with some guilt how she had threatened to kill him. No matter how many times she'd tried to apologize, he'd just give her a quick glance and find something else to do.

Hollyleaf's stomach rumbled and she tilted her head upwards to scent the air. They had eaten nothing while inside the burned zone, which was nearly four suns now.
A deep yet lilting voice broke her skein of thought. "Hollyleaf," rumbled the she-wolf, "how far now?" She had slowed her pace to catch up with the black cat.
Hollyleaf thought quickly. There were no longer any landmarks to gauge their progress, but she knew more or less how far they'd come.
"Not far," she rasped, her green eyes fixed on the horizon. "Maybe three suns-two, if we walk quickly."
Matilda glanced at her. "How long does this burned land go on for? I have not eaten since I first awoke from the herbs, and I am hungry."
Hollyleaf shook her head. "I don't know. It's not usually like this. It's something the Twolegs have done."
"Twolegs?" The wolf wrinkled her nose.

"You don't know them?" Hollyleaf was puzzled. "They're big, tall creatures that walk on their hind legs. They have flat muzzles and no fur except for a patch on top of their heads…" she trailed off.
"Ah," said Matilda without expression. "Humans."
"Humans." Hollyleaf tasted the word on her tongue. "Is that what wolves call them?"
"It is what they call themselves, little one. Wolves know more of humans than cats do."
Even Rabbit looked up at this. "How?" asked Hollyleaf.
The silver beast walked on silently for a while, and Hollyleaf began to think she was not going to answer. But finally she spoke:
"Many, many seasons ago, wolves and humans were pack-mates. We showed them how to live in packs; in return they let us share their warmth and protected us from predators. Together we hunted the largest of animals-deer, boar, elk. It was a peaceful time, so peaceful that many wolves forgot what it meant to be truly wild and became tame."
Hollyleaf and Rabbit both shivered slightly. Tame was almost a taboo word among both Tribe and Clan. Both would have members who had forsaken their homes and joined Twolegs in search of food and shelter.

Not all Twoleg pets were tame, just as not all forest creatures were truly wild. Firestar had not been tame, although he was a kittypet and had grown relatively attached to them. But his heart had lay in the darkness outside his fence and he had wandered there almost as soon as he was able. His best friend Ravenpaw had not been wild, though he was Clanborn through and through, and had gravitated away from the Clans to live in a Twoleg barn. Then there were cats like Daisy and Cloudtail, who seemed to have paws in both worlds, regardless of what they might tell themselves.
Matilda was speaking again.
"They forgot the true meaning of the pack and how loyalty to your own kin comes above all else. For eventually a time would come when the humans themselves drifted away from their original ways and turned to violence and destruction. They are the greatest predators the world has ever seen; it is only right that they have the most powerful choices. But they chose wrongly, and soon we were no longer capable of communicating with the humans. As humanity grew ever more greedy, they began stealing our kills and then, finally, our young. That was the most unforgivable act of all…" she broke off. "And so we left the humans to their own brutality. However, not all of us left. There were some of our kind who had grown tame and thought they could teach humans the spirit of the forest again. Undoubtedly they did not succeed, for humans only grew worse. But as they tried to change their masters, our brothers and sisters began to change themselves. They wore different pelts, their bodies changed shape…they became dogs."

Rabbit's mouth was hanging open. Hollyleaf merely shook her head and then thought of something. "Where did cats come from, Matilda?" she asked curiously.
"That I do not know. None of our stories ever mention cats, so I must believe that cats came after the war between man and wolf." She kept her eyes fixed ahead as she asked: "Little one, what do cats believe in?"
Hollyleaf looked at the wolf, startled at the question. "We…many of us, Rabbit's Tribe and my Clans, we believe that when we die our spirits go to the stars and watch over us. They form a Clan-or Tribe- of their own, and speak to us through dreams."
"And are your ancestors all-knowing?"

"I don't know. I've never seen them. But I'm not sure if I even believe in them now. What do wolves believe in?"
"Our faith is not so complicated. Wolves believe in the spirit of the pack foremost, but when we die our souls travel inwards, not upwards. We do not see these stars as well as you do, so we travel into the centre of the world, a great churning ball of flame made up of every wolf spirit. Whenever a new cub is born, one of these spirits flies to its body. The wolf-fire is supposed to know everything that every wolf has ever learned, but it does not share its knowledge with us."
Hollyleaf blinked. "That seems…odd." She winced, but Matilda did not seem to take offense.
"There are stranger beliefs. Deer believe in only one entity, a great all-knowing stag that watches from above. And owls place their faith in the fact that certain laws guard our world. They have no afterlife, and they say that if there are gods, then it is not their place to know them." Her shoulders straightened. "Come. It will be dark soon and I wish to find a place to rest."
Hollyleaf nodded and followed, glancing at Rabbit, who flattened his ears at her and ran to the wolf's shoulder. She sighed.

The eagle could have perhaps watched all this and understood something of what they were saying, but as the blue sky turned into the curtains of dusk and then into midnight, he would have needed to change his shape and become an owl to see what happened next. And this owl, whose kind had understood the laws of physics and astronomy long before humans could even form notions about it, would have settled into the trees and watched as Hollyleaf, almost invisible in the shadows, padded over to her sooty scrape in the earth. She had been fruitlessly searching for food and returned with an empty belly.
She stopped. The whole world seemed barren and silent, silent in a way that sent chills up her spine. Glancing around, she realized why she felt uneasy. Both Rabbit and Matilda were gone.
Slowly the black she-cat stepped forwards and caught sight of a silver glittering among the dead husks of trees. Hollyleaf padded over to her.
The wolf's fur was coated with dark liquid, the cat-claw moon glinting off her damp muzzle. She turned to meet Hollyleaf's gaze with her cold, cold eyes.
"Hollyleaf. Go."

The she-cat took a few steps away, wondering if this really was the same animal who she had calmly discussed religion with earlier. "Matilda, Rabbit's missing."
The wolf made a deep noise in her throat, and all of a sudden she did not seem able to hold Hollyleaf's gaze.
"The little one was unnecessary, Hollyleaf, and I was very hungry."
Hollyleaf backed up further. "And me? Am I unnecessary?"
"You will show me where the Clans are. Go, Hollyleaf, for I still need food. Tomorrow we will leave this dead place and return to green lands, even if it means we delay in reaching the lake. I will hunt and prepare myself."
Hollyleaf could have done anything then. Ran away as far as she could and see how far she got before the wolf hunted her down. Attacked her and end up like her dead mate. It would be what was right. What her brothers would have done.

She dipped her head once, and returned to her filthy, cold nest, and curled up, knowing full well that she would not sleep that night.

The next sun when they awoke Hollyleaf made some sort of pretence of searching for Rabbit, but she knew perfectly well where he was. Stoneteller's vision, the reason why he had been sent from the Tribe to follow the Clan cats, had come true at last.