Dawn

Prologue

Stars glittered coldly on a forest stripped bare by a bitter leaf-fall. Shadows moved through the under- growth—thin shapes, fur flattened by the chilly evening dew, slipping between the stems like water through reeds. The cats' pelts did not ripple with muscle as they once had; instead, their fur clung to the bones beneath their thin frames.

The flame-colored she-cat leading the silent procession lifted her head and tasted the air. Even though nightfall had silenced the Twoleg monsters, their stench clung to every dying leaf and branch.

The cat took comfort from the scent of her mate beside her; his familiar scent mingled with the hateful Twoleg odor and softened its cruel tang. He matched her pace stubbornly, even though his faltering stride betrayed his long-empty belly and wakeful nights.

"Skystar," he murmured as they padded onward. "Do you think our kits will find us when they come home?"

The flame-colored cat flinched as though she had trodden on a thorn. "We can only pray that they will, Longtail," she replied softly.

"But how will they know where to look?" Longtail glanced back at a broad-shouldered gray tom. "Graystripe, do you think they'll know where we've gone?"

"Oh, they'll find us," Graystripe promised.

"How can you be so sure?" growled Skystar. "I should have sent out more patrols."

"And risk losing more cats?" Graystripe meowed.

Skystar's eyes clouded with pain and she hurried ahead along the shadowy path.

Longtail watched her go. "This is the hardest decision she's ever had to make," he mewed.

"She had to put the Clan first," Graystripe murmured.

Longtail closed his eyes for a moment. "We have lost so many cats this past moon," he mewed.

The wind must have carried his voice, because Skystar turned her head, her gaze hardening. "Then perhaps, at the Gathering, the other Clans will finally agree that we must join together to face this threat," she growled.

"Join together?" A defiant mew sounded from a tabby tom. "Have you forgotten how the Clans reacted last time you said that? WindClan was half-starved, but you might as well have suggested they eat their kits. They are too proud to admit they need help from any cat."

"Things are even worse now, Dustpelt," Sandstorm, Dustpelt's mate, argued. "How can any Clan stay strong when its kits and apprentices starve?"

"Hollykit may have died, but that is no reason for us to allow ThunderClan to be ordered around by another Clan!" Dustpelt snapped.

"No Clan is going to give us orders," Skystar insisted. "But I still believe we can help each other. Leaf-bare is almost here. The Twolegs and their monsters have driven most of our prey farther and farther away, and they have poisoned what remains so that it's not safe to eat. We cannot fight alone."

"But, Skystar," a bracken-colored warrior spoke up. "We're hunting beyond our borders now, and prey has been a bit easier to find, shouldn't we tell the other Clans to do the same?"

Before Skystar could reply, the whispering of the wind through the branches grew to a roar, and Skystar slowed her step, pricking her ears.

"What is it?" Sandstorm whispered, her eyes stretched wide.

"Something's happening at Fourtrees!" Graystripe yowled.

He broke into a run, and Skystar rushed after him, closely followed by their Clanmates. All the cats skidded to a halt at the top of a slope, looking down into a steep-sided hollow.

Bright, unnatural lights, sharper than moonshine, blazed against the trunks of the four giant oaks that had guarded this sacred place since the time of the Great Clans. More lights shone from the eyes of huge monsters squatting at the edge of the clearing. The Great Rock—the vast, smooth gray stone where Clan leaders stood to address the Gathering each full moon—looked small and exposed, like a kit crouched on a Thunderpath.

Twolegs scurried around the hollow, shouting at one another. A new sound sliced through the air, a screeching, high-pitched whine, and one Twoleg raised a massive shiny forepaw that flashed in the brilliant lights. The Twoleg pressed it against the trunk of the nearest oak, and dust flew out from the tree like blood spraying from a wound. The shiny forepaw howled as it bit viciously into the ancient bark, pushing deeper into the tree's heart until the Twoleg cried out a warning and the hollow rang with a crack so loud that it drowned the rumbling monsters. The great oak began to lean over, slowly at first, then faster, faster, until it fell crashing to the ground. Its leafless branches clattered as they struck the cold earth, then stilled into deathly silence.

"StarClan, stop them!" mewed Sandstorm.

There was no sign that their warrior ancestors had seen what was happening at Fourtrees. The stars glittered coldly in the indigo sky as the Twoleg moved on to the next oak, his forepaw screaming for another kill.

The cats watched in horror as the Twoleg worked its way around the clearing until the last oak had been felled. Fourtrees, the place where the four Clans had met for many, many generations, was no more. The four giant oaks lay sprawled on the ground, their branches quivering into stillness. Twoleg monsters snarled at the edge of the clearing, ready to move in to carve up the fresh-kill, but the cats stayed frozen at the top of the slope, unable to move.

"The forest is dead," murmured Sandstorm. "There is no hope left for any of us."

"Have courage." Skystar's eyes glittered as she turned to face her Clan. "We still have our Clan. There is always hope."