Ok, so this is my first Warriors story - also a series I love - and my second story on this site! Just to avoid confusion, this trilogy is set in the time of the Power of Three like the Power of Three never took place. And never will take place. :) Don't get me wrong, though, I do love the Three - even if Hollyleaf is a total psycho and not really alive anymore. And this story does have an OC, so if that bugs you, I'm really sorry! I find it fun coming up with my own warriors and stuff...

Disclaimer: I do not own Firestar or Leafpool or StarClan or Warriors. Though I'd be a very happy lady if I did! *huggles my cat* I do, however, own Storm, the raggedy, bad-tempered rogue who's new to ThunderClan. I also own the present Storm-Keeper - the freak cat that's hunting Storm.

Prologue: The Coming

It wasn't a soft rain that drenched the clans around the lake that night, its razor-like claws driving into the ground and forcing the cats to retreat into their dens for an early retirement. Lightning flashed its anger across the black sky, ripping mercilessly with golden points. The ground shook with horror every time the storm bellowed, the thunder cracking and rumbling threateningly. The storm even sent its claws of wind in through the trees, making them sway, leaf smacking against leaf.

Curled and shivering in his nest, Firestar stared out at the rain with large green eyes. His famous flame-colored pelt was matted and beginning to dry and he tucked his paws under his chest to retain some warmth. The one bad thing about leaf-fall, Firestar decided with a sigh, was when it was cold and storming at the same time. He shook his head anxiously, a feeling of dread for the upcoming leaf-bare smoldering in his belly. There was nothing harder for a leader than to watch his clan weaken at the paws of some invisible foe.

The ginger savior craned his neck just so he could see the sky, and make out what was left of Silverpelt in the black of the tempest. Closing his glossy green eyes, he silently thanked StarClan for a prosperous green-leaf, and prayed for protection in the times to come. Mind at ease now, he stretched his scruffy front limbs out in front of him, muscles flexing, and arched his back, all the while listening to the patter of the rain on rock.

Once comfortable again, he slowly opened his eyes to find he was almost nose-to-nose with a she-cat, her amber eyes thoughtful and wise – yet, before his shock registered, he thought he saw something else there. Then, though, his spine bristled and he mewed, "Leafpool, you scared my fur off! I didn't even hear you come up. And look, at you, love – you've gone and got that beautiful fur of yours soaked."

Her whiskers twitched in amusement, but rain seeping through her pale brown pelt must not have been enough to keep her in her den. She pushed herself into the den with her father, who sat up, and scooted back, making room. "Sorry, Firestar," her mew was littered with worry, and Firestar blinked as he picked it up. "But I bring news from our ancestors. StarClan has given me a warning."

Firestar's ears flattened against his head as his thought instinctively went back to the devastating leaf-bare he fretted about. Were his fears about to be confirmed, even after he'd given StarClan his personal plea? Anxious, he waited for her to continue, but, when she began to lick her fur dry, he prompted her. "What of, Leafpool?"

Her golden eyes flicked ominously up toward him, the darkness of the night giving her a chilling appearance. "They warned me about the storm." Firestar shivered and his tail puffed out, his heart speeding up. Some part of him wondered how his daughter was being so calm about this. StarClan had given her a warning about the very storm they were trapped in, and she was unperturbed?

"The storm? Were they specific?" He crept toward her, placing his paw on hers as she licked the other one, his eyes wide.. She nodded once, her fur finally beginning to bristle as her pent up fear released itself. She brought her muzzle close to her father's ear and whispered softly, shakily, "They said it was coming, father. I don't know what it means – I don't know how to help.. What can we do?"

"Perhaps it is not a bad omen, Leafpool," Firestar turned his head and blinked comfortingly into his daughter's round amber eyes. He pressed his side against her, warming her from the bitter cold, and purred as she calmed down. "'Blood will spill blood and the lake with run red.' That one ended well, remember?" He chuckled softly, "though I'll bet poor Hawkfrost would beg to differ.. Perhaps this one will be beneficial as well."

"I suppose." Leafpool nodded, carefully assessing whatever dream or vision Firestar assumed she had been given. She shook her head and sighed, before nodding to her father, and he could almost see the rain in her eyes. "I can't help but think this one is different somehow, though. It felt – I don't even know. Dangerous; sinister, even. But, I guess we won't truly know until it presents itself." Leafpool stood, stretching, and turned back to exit the den, her bushy tail catching an unsuspecting Firestar in the mouth.

The ginger tom curled up again once he had the room, sputtering the tabby fur of the she-cat's tail from his tongue, and cast his eyes back up at her. Leafpool was waiting at the mouth of his den, and Firestar purred as he realized the rain had more of an effect on her than he'd first thought. "By the way you came crawling in here, one would think you were of RiverClan," he meowed good-humoredly and Leafpool purred as she glanced back at him..

"Probably. But RiverClan is much too smelly – I prefer the forests." She puffed her fluffy chest out proudly, and Firestar's affection for the medicine cat swelled. After a long wait, the tabby took a breath and stepped into the blistering rain, and she yowled, "Goodnight, father!"

"Rest well, Leafpool! And pray this rain stops by morning." He responded, head tilting as she halted, her blackened fur bristling. Firestar was about to warn her to keep moving, or she would get even more wet than she already would've, but before he could, she turned and with an ominous, breathy whisper, mewed, "I do."

The storm cracked and howled, taunting him as he sauntered through the forest, dark and almost impossible to navigate through. He hissed at it bad-temperedly; his tail lashing as his stomach growled again, empty as ever. The muscular, powerful rogue made no effort to dry his sodden fur, paid no heed to the ache in his limbs. As if he couldn't feel the world around him, he didn't even attempt to locate a shelter.

Unbothered by the rain blistering into his back, he stopped and sat, letting the water drip off his frame in a way he was surprisingly comfortable with. He brought one paw, claws hooked and sinister, up to his muzzle, eyelids falling halfway as he examined them. "What I wouldn't give," he dropped his claw, sliding them both into the earth with successful cracks as they punctured leaves, "for a dumb little animal to sink my claws into."

"That's not nice, Storm."

The hardened black tom's eyes snapped up, his chest fluttering as he heard the familiar, whimsical voice. Stormy blue eyes swerved in all directions, his body poised to attack any apparition that made a move. His heart sped up, his breathing shallow. He didn't dare speak her name – not anymore.

"Leave me alone," his voice hooked a dangerous tone, his eyes narrowing and fur spiking up. In an attempt to ward her off, he dug his claws into the leaves, and snarled. "I'm not your host, or whatever it is you want me to be." His ears flicked as he tried to make out a reply through the rain and thunder, and was about to give it up when he saw a faint flash of silver.

"Not 'host', but rather 'successor'." The lightning burst through the sky, illuminating his view for a moment, and his spine arched with what he saw. She was there, right in front of him – her ragged silver fur cold and dry despite the rain, her one blind eye a cloudy white while the other glittered with malevolence, her slender face scarred and mangled. In spite of his strong, bold nature, the shady tom gave a shriek of surprise, bouncing into the air.

Then, as quickly as it came, the light was gone, and she was no longer there; but neither was he. Thoroughly spooked from the unexpected appearance of his haunter, he was running, eyes wide and set forward, paws pounding on the ground. He tore through underbrush, branches, trees, burning rain, completely ignoring the environment around him as he tried to put as much distance between himself and her.

Next thing he knew, his pelt was being prickled by the sharp thorns of a bramble bush, and he lurched forward into a clearing. The rain marred his view, but, as he lifted his nose to inhale, he picked up a strange scent, mingled in with the individual scents of multiple cats. His ears flattened and he looked around, searching for a meal. He crept across the clearing, large black paws silenced by the distracting sound of the rain and thunder.

At the center of the camp, he picked up the tangy scent of prey, and he cursed his timing and mewed, "Already gone." Looking up with a glance around, he attempted to pick up movement of prey – anything to fill his hunger. The sound of paws on rock made his head snap over to the mound beside him, and he traced up its frame with ever-narrowing wicked eyes. He crouched into the shadows as the she-cat pounced off her last rock, and meandered through the rain to a den he could just barely make out.

When she had gone, curiosity lurked over him, and he once again dragged himself into the rain, clawing his way up the rock ledge. What he saw made his lips curl – a ginger tom, curled up and dry, in his precious little den while he was out here freezing his tail off. He placed one paw on the stone ground, his twisted claws making a soft "click".

Firestar looked up, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the muscular, shadowed tom before him. He brought his eyes over the talons protruding from his heavy paws, the strong way he held himself, the way his eyes were clouded - haunted.

The tom took a threatening step forward, lips curling into a baleful snarl, whispering softly, "The name's Storm, stranger."

And, as Firestar stared into the icy, storming eyes he saw the oblivion of all clans in them; saw the storm that would engulf them. But when he blinked, the cat was again nothing more than a cat. Nothing more than a cat who he would indeed welcome into ThunderClan like all other homeless cats he came across.

Except this one was different.

I felt like trying something creepy... Don't worry, in the first chapter, Storm will get his warrior name, and meet the two she-cats that are going to set up his love triangle! Hmm, maybe I shouldn't have spoiled that... Ah well, review please! I love knowing what you thought of my work, peoples!