Flinthawk staggered to his paws, his heart pounding in his ears. The trees around him were tall and twisted, their bark the color of dried blood. Dark red leaves whispered above, though no breeze stirred the air. The ground was soft under his pads, like moss soaked through after a storm. But when he glanced down, it wasn’t moss at all just shadow, pooling thickly around his paws. “Hello?” his voice echoed strangely, as if the forest were swallowing the sound. “Is…is anycat there?” For a heartbeat, there was only silence. Then a shape stepped from between the trunks a cat made of starlight, their fur shining silver against the red gloom. Tiny sparks drifted from their pelt with every step, like fireflies caught in their fur. “Flinthawk,” the starry cat meowed, their eyes warm and knowing. “You have come far.” Flinthawk’s legs trembled. “A‑Are you from StarClan?” “Of course,” they replied, dipping their head. “And we’ve been waiting for you.” More cats began to appear, one by one, their star‑speckled pelts lighting the forest like scattered moons. Some he recognized from stories the elders told. Others were strangers, but each gaze rested on him with the same strange mix of pride and sorrow. Flinthawk swallowed. “Why is the forest red?” he whispered. The first starry cat’s expression darkened. “Because the path before you is stained with blood and choice,” they said quietly. Flinthawk’s ears flattened. A snarl rose in his throat before he could stop it. “Is this about the murders?” he hissed. “The ones done to keep the Clan pure just like you wanted?” The starlit cat’s eyes darkened. “That is not the pure we meant.” “Don’t lie to me.” His voice shook now. “You sent the signs. You showed me their faces.” Starlight around them flickered, like wind ripping through leaves. “We sent warnings, Flinthawk,” they whispered. “Not targets.” His breath caught. For a heartbeat, the clearing spun. “No,” he rasped. “You…you said the Clan was rotten. You said it had to be cleansed.” “We said the fear eating your Clan would destroy it,” the cat replied. “The choice to spill blood was always yours.”
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