It is the time before dawn when the moon has set, but the sun has yet to streak the horizon with milky fingers of light. The night is still and cold, black like frozen water.

Graystar pads out of his den. The clearing is empty, but he can hear the faint sounds of warriors waking up. Frost glitters on the ground, while above his head Silverpelt flows like a river across the sky.

Pausing to drink in the night air filled with the scents of so many familiar cats, Graystar feels every hair on his pelt stand up. This could be the last morning he will ever spend in camp. It could be the last morning for any clan. He feels as if everything is spinning out of his control, but when he looks for strength in the knowledge that Starclan controls his fate, he finds only uncertainty. But he knows he is not alone in this battle, he has his clanmates and the three other clans helping them to drive Scourge out of the forest along with his clan.

Graystar sighs and shakes himself before walking over to the fern tunnel that leads to Cinderpelt's den.

The Medicine cat is dragging herbs and berries into the clearing, where Fernpaw is making them into bundles ready to carry.

"Is everything ready?" Graytar asks.

"I think so."

Pain fills Cinderpelt's blue eyes, as if she is already seeing the wounded cats who will soon need her help.

"I'll need more cats to carry all this up to Fourtrees. Fernpaw and I can't manage it on our own."

"You can have all the apprentices," Graystar meows. "Fernpaw, will you go and tell them?"

The young she-cat dips her head and hurries off.

"Once we get there, the other apprentices will be needed to fight," Graystar goes on. "But Fernpaw can stay with you. Find somewhere well out of the way. I think there's a sheltered hollow on the other side of the stream….."

Cinderpelt bristles.

"Graystar, you don't mean that? What use will I be if I'm not where the fighting is?"

"But the cats need you," Graystar insists. "If you're injured, what happens to the rest of us?"

"Fernpaw and I can take care of ourselves. We're not helpless kits, you know."

Cinderpelt's tart response reminds Graystar of her mentor, Yellowfang. Sighing, he pads up to the medicine cat and touches noses with her.

"Have it your own way," he meows. "I know I can't say anything to change your mind. But please…be careful."

Cinderpelt lets out a soft purr.

"Don't worry, Graystar. We'll be fine."

"Have StarClan spoken to you about the battle?" Graystar forces himself to ask.

"No, I've seen no omens at all."

The Medicine cat raises her eyes to Silverpelt, where it is fading in the predawn sky.

"It's not like StarClan to be silent when something so important is going to happen."

"Perhaps the prophecy is omen enough." He echoes what he said previously before the meeting at Fourtrees when Scourge had killed Tigerstar.

Graystar returns through the fern tunnel leaving Cinderpelt to prepare what is left of the herbs with Fernpaw and crosses the clearing to the elders' den. On the way he passes Brackenfur on watch, and waves a greeting with his tail.

When he reaches the fallen tree, charred by the fire that had swept through the camp last greenleaf, Graytar finds all the elders still sleeping except for Speckletail, who sits with her tail curled around her paws.

The she-cat rises to her paws as Graystar comes toward her.

"Is it time?"

"Yes," Graystar replies. "We'll be leaving soon…but you're not coming with us, Speckletail."

"What?"

The fur on Speckletail's shoulders stiffen with annoyance.

"Why not? We may be elders, but we're not useless. Do you really think we're going to sit back an…."

"Speckletail, listen. This is important. If you're honest, you know that Smallear and One-eye would barely make it to Fourtrees, never mind fight when they got there. And Dappletail is getting very frail. I can't lead them into battle against Scourge."

"And what about me?"

"I know you're a fighter, Speckletail."

Graystar has thought carefully about what he is going to say, but with the elder glaring at him he feels like a raw apprentice again.

"That's why I need you here. There'll be the other three elders here, and Willowpelt's kits. They've learned some defensive moves but they're not ready for battle. I'm putting you in charge of the camp while the rest of us are away."

"But I—Oh."

Speckletail breaks off as she understands what Graystar is asking her to do. Slowly the fur on her shoulders lies flat again.

"I see. All right, Graystar. You can count on me."

"Thank you."

He blinks his gratitude at her.

"If the battle goes badly, we'll try to fall back here and reinforce you, but we might not make it. If Bloodclan comes here, you'll be all that's left of Thunderclan."

His eyes meet Speckletail's.

"You'll need to get the kits and elders away. Try to cross the river, then head for Barley's farm."

"Right." Speckletail gives him a brisk nod. "I'll do the best I can."

Turning, she looks over to where Brightspirit sleeps in the shelter of the tree trunk.

"What about her?"

"Brightspirit is as strong as any warrior now," Graystar meows, his heart lifting. "She's coming with us."

He pads over and nudges the young she-cat with one paw.

"Wake up, Brightspirit. It's time to go."

Brightspirit blinks up at him with her good eye, then rises and stretches.

"Okay, Graystar. I'm ready."

She is heading out into the clearing when Graystar calls her back.

"Brightspirit, if we come through this, you'll be sleeping in the warriors' den from now on."

Brightspirit's ears prick and she seems to stand taller.

"Thank you, Graystar!" she meows, and dashes off, all her drowsiness vanishing.

Dipping his head in farewell to Speckletail, Graystar follows Brightheart into the clearing. By now the other cats have begun to emerge from their dens. The apprentices, Featherpaw and Stormpaw among them, are clustered around Cinderpelt, each carrying a bundle of herbs. Dustpelt is with them, speaking urgently in a low voice to Fernpaw.

Closer to the warriors' den, Brightspirit has joined Cloudtail, while Mousefur and Longtail stalk around each other in a final practice of their fighting moves. As Graystar watches, Brackenfur and Sandstorm slip out from between the branches of the den with Thornbramch and Owlfur just behind. Whitestorm comes up and urges the cats toward the nettle patch for a piece of fresh-kill.

Graystar feels a rush of pride. These are his cats, brave and loyal, every one of them. Above him, the outlines of bare branches have begun to show black against the sky. Graystar feels a moment of sheer terror at the reminder of the approaching sunrise. He forces himself to stride confidently across the clearing until he joins Whitestorm beside the fresh-kill pile.

"This is it," the white warrior meows.

Graystar takes a vole from the pile of fresh-kill. His belly is churning with tension, but he forces himself to swallow a few mouthfuls.

"Graystar," Whitestorm continues after a moment, "I just wanted to say that Bluestar could not have led us better in these terrible days.I've been proud to serve as a senior warrior under you."

He stares at the white warrior.

"Whitestorm, you're talking as if…"

The gray tom can't put what he is afraid of into words. The older warrior's respect means more to him than he can say, and he can't imagine how he will cope if Whitestorm did not come back from the battle.

Whitestorm concentrates on the blackbird he is eating, avoiding his eyes, and doesn't say any more.

The camp is still dark when Speckletail emerges with the other elders to see the warriors off. Willowpelt's kits rush out of the nursery to say good-bye to their mother and Sandstorm. They look excited; they don't fully understand what the clan is going to face.

"Well, Graystar," Cloudtail meows. "Is everything ready?"

The tip of his tail twitches nervously as he admits, "I'll be a lot happier when we're on the move."

Graystar swallows the last of his vole.

"So will I, Cloudtail," he replies. "Let's go."

Rising to his paws, he gathers his clan with a flick of his tail. As his gaze meets Sandstorm's, he feels strengthened to see her green eyes glow with trust and love.

"Cats of Thunderclan," Graystar calls, "we go now to fight against Bloodclan. But we're not alone. Remember there are four clans in the forest, and always will be, and the other three will fight with us today. We will drive out these evil cats!"

His warriors spring up, yowling their agreement.

Graystar turns and begins to lead them through the gorse tunnel and up the ravine toward Fourtrees. When he pauses at the top for a last glance back at the camp, he does not know if he will ever see his beloved home again.