Prologue: A Tight Prophecy Wind blew over the LeafClan camp as a tiny kit burst from the nursery, squealing with excitement. Halfkit skidded into the clearing, her blue eyes shining. “Mama! Look! I’m becoming an apprentice now!” Her little tail shot straight up as she bounced in place. Brightwhisker padded after her, amusement softening her voice. “You’re only three moons old, Halfkit.” But Halfkit was already racing toward Barkstar. “Is it happening?” she chirped, practically vibrating. Barkstar’s eyes warmed with amusement. “Not yet, young one. In two moons.” Halfkit’s tail drooped. Her excitement dimmed like a cloud passing over the sun. “Why…?” “Soon,” Barkstar promised gently. Halfkit sighed, then turned to her mother. “Mama… is it bedtime?” Brightwhisker nodded. “Goodnight, Barkstar.” “Goodnight, Brightwhisker,” the leader replied. As the camp quieted, the medicine‑cat’s den rustled. Softfeather stepped out, her fur bristling and her eyes wide with fear. “Barkstar…” she whispered. “I had a dream.” END OF PROLOGUE!
