He flinches at the sight of the gnarled face and ungroomed pelt, seemingly frozen into the steep rock face that leads down into camp. But no - the stranger is not frozen at all and his breath catches in his throat as the thought comes to him that only a SkyClan cat can make the difficult climb down the hidden trail into camp and, almost as soon as the thought forms itself in his mind, the stranger's paws slip out from under it - her he notices, unused to the sight of any cat so untidy, let alone a she cat - and the Clan watches with baited breath as the stranger plummets down from the sky and lands with a dull thump on the hard rock surface that lines camp.

He rushes forward, delicate ginger paws carrying him effortlessly towards the stranger - intruder? - and the apprentice feels his mentor and leader start on his tail after a stunned heartbeat. The rest of his Clanmates are frozen, stunned into silence by the unexpected visitor. He is glad he is not one of them, one of the crowd that cannot help anyone in this situation. He is glad of his choice to join his mentor in caring for the Clan in more ways than just fighting. After all, who is there but the occasional rogue to fight?

He has reached the crumpled body of the old she cat and nudges her back down to the ground as she tries to heave herself up. She is almost on autopilot, it seems to him, not quite with the world and yet not quite gone. She shoves him away, roughly, and he is amazed.

She surely must be a warrior of some sort if she refuses treatment so bravely.

By now his leader and mentor have joined him at the stranger's quivering side and again he is struck by the feeling that this cat is more than some foolish rogue come wandering into the very heart of their territory. Perhaps it is the glint in her amber eyes, the way she bats away the herbs and zeros in on the leader with just the barest of nods to him.

His leader goes introduce himself to the strange warrior, but she opens her mouth and summons words so quite and weak that the three of them could barely make them out.

"I do not care for your names," she hisses, mouth opening slightly to reveal rows of sharp, yellowing teeth. "I care only to complete my mission and complete it I will." The stranger pauses in her words, straining to bring her front paws under herself. He cannot help the rush of breath that claws its way out of his throat at the site of white bone splitting through the flesh and brown, dirty fur. She carries on, regardless.

"StarClan has fallen," comes the faint whisper from the weakening she cat, although her eyes are glowing as her load seems to lighten, despite the heavy feeling that settles in his own heart. "They fell moons ago by ancestors long forgotten and feared, ancestors who have powers stronger than we can imagine. You," she addresses, staring at each of the three cats in turn with her clearing eyes, "are the last surviving Clan."

She lays her head down, amber eyes finally dulling and closing, and her breathing is shallow. "We failed you, moons ago, and for that I am truly sorry, but this is your fight now and I hope, if only for your own sakes, that you do not lose this battle as we did." Her breath teeters and the apprentice realises his breath is as shallow as hers, and then it just stops.

He lets out a long, shaky breath that ruffles his ginger pelt and turns his wide-eyed gaze on his mentor.

His mentor is quiet for a moment, striped tail twitching in the dirt before he presses forward to check for any breath - any hope - but there is none. He turns to him then and speaks, voice unsteady. "Foxpaw," he murmurs quietly, surveying the frozen Clan around them, "we must take the body into our den. She needs to be prepared for her burial and then I must speak to StarClan."

There is doubt in Foxpaw's mentor's heart, for StarClan has been silent for moons now. He hopes in vain that what this passed stranger has told them in incorrect, but he is sure any hope is futile.

Foxpaw has not yet made a move and is instead staring at the body. He is overwhelmed and frightened. The day was not supposed to turn out like this. It was supposed to be as every other day had been: normal.

"Foxpaw," his mentor urges and brushes past him to grasp the scruff in his jaws. He begins to drag the bloodied body towards his den and is relieved when the apprentice comes to his senses and rushes to help him, tugging on the scruff to help him pull her into the dark recesses of his den.

His green eyes glint in the darkness and he opens his mouth. "Hawkeye, what did she mean?" His voice is timid for once and Hawkeye has no reply. He opens his mouth to say that he doesn't know, but he is interrupted by the tugging of fur on thorns as their leader stalks into the den.

There is a nervous energy to him and Hawkeye thinks that Cliffstar reminds him of the leader's own son, jumpy Rabbitfur who is the complete opposite to his father. "Hawkeye, Foxpaw," he greets above the noise of the confused Clan, leaving the members behind him with a swish of his tail and the drop of the trailing bindweed.

A moment later, a pretty white head pokes its way into the den, drawing the rest of the well proportioned body in after it. The white she cat doesn't waste a moment with pleasantries, golden eyes raking her Clanmates and the lifeless body at their paws. "Well," she demands, voice quiet and pretty and quite the opposite of the expression on her face, "who wants to tell me what's going on? I just got back with my hunting patrol only to find blood on the floor and a noisy Clan with no official present."

The apprentice stares at his paws, drawing his tail around them as he notices the drying blood speckling the fur there. His mentor mirrors his appearance and the two medicine cats are silent in their uncertainty.

Cliffstar turns to face the petite she cat and his tails brushes over the cooling body lying on the floor and all four of them wince. "It seems," he starts, stepping away from the body. "It seems that we have a problem." At the expression on his deputy's face, he hesitates before continuing. "This rogue -"

"Warrior," comes the quiet interruption from the medicine cat apprentice. "She was a warrior, not a rogue."

"This warrior came into our camp and said that StarClan has... fallen." The leader frowns to himself and turns just as the white deputy speaks to the others present in the den.

"StarClan fallen! That's ridiculous! Hawkeye? Foxpaw? The two of you are medicine cats, or at least in training to be one. Tell me what's really going on! StarClan would have told any of you here about any problems, right?" She lashes her tail furiously, although there is fear in her heart.

Foxpaw is surprised when Hawkeye speaks. "I haven't heard from StarClan for moons, Cloudyfoot, and Foxpaw hasn't either. They've been silent for a long time, but we didn't think it was because they'd fallen." No, they'd thought that perhaps it had been the secret the two of them had been keeping for another Clanmate that had caused StarClan to ignore them. Never this.

Silence falls over the den then, for neither Cliffstar nor Cloudyfoot had any reply to that. Fours pairs of eyes are drawn to the lifeless body between them and Cliffstar sighs, tail hitting the dirt and shoulders falling forwards. "Clean the body. We'll give her a proper burial when the moon has fully risen."

He makes to leave, but Cloudyfoot's resigned words stop him. "What do we tell the Clan?"

The large grey and white tom, who was so powerful in battle, seemed totally helpless at the thought of facing the Clan. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before replying. "We tell them that a war is coming."