Warriors: High Tides

Prologue

Bramblefoot trotted through the hot forest. It was Greenleaf, and that was the best time of the year for all of the Clans. Or, it should have been, anyway.

In the past seasons, life had been getting steadily harder. At first it was just seen as the usual cycle of life, but the hardship continued till Newleaf, and now it was bleeding into Greenleaf. Hunger gnawed at the Medicine Cat's belly as she hurried along a well-trodden path, twitching her tail.

Suddenly a presence stopped her continuing. She flicked her ears and glanced around, before remembering where she was in a flash. Her real body was at the Moonpool, sleeping under the stars. She was walking in StarClan's territory. It was the Halfmoon Medicine Cat Meeting.

"Bramblefoot," Called a deep, gentle voice. The brown tabby turned curiously and flicked her ears. There sat a transparent brown tabby; like her, but without the white belly, paws and tailtip. Dark amber eyes glowed with honor and personality.

"Greetings." The Medicine Cat dipped her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you from past dreams. May I ask your name?"

He shook his head lightly. "That is not important. Come with me." The tom suddenly bounded through the woods, and Bramblefoot followed.

For a few moments they ran before the StarClan stranger dissapeared. She kept running, worried she'd lost him, when suddenly the forest floor turned to thin air and she dropped.

She fell to the ground in the middle of ThunderClan's camp. She stood and shook herself, groaning, and glanced around. She felt horrified by what she saw.

The camp was empty, void of cats. The dens were in disarray, the floor was windblown - even the Leader's den was unkempt.

No, she was wrong. There were cats in Camp. She could smell and hear them. Following the strongest scent, she peered nervously into the Nursury and cried out in pain.

Two queens were there - she recognized them as Briarheart and Beechwhisker - with their kits. They were pregnant now, but they were due in the next moon.

But something was awry. The kits, eight in total, were dead. Their tiny bodies were skinny, and she could see their tiny ribs jutting out of their sides. Their mothers looked no healthier; they, too, were ribbed and thin, their eyes sunken into their heads with hunger. Their teats were hard and dry, milkless with hunger.

"A great famine is coming," The deep voice murmured into her fluffy ears. "And only the Leaders of the Clans can stop it."

"How?" Bramblefoot cried out, whirling around to look at the tom. His amber eyes were dark with sorrow, and his head was bowed.

"By performing another Journey." He murmured.

"This is a prophecy, isn't it?" Bramblefoot gasped.

"When the River meets the Rushing Water, Thunder crackles on the Wind, and Shadow drenches the Sky with darkness; only then will the prey return."

Bramblefoot felt herself waking up as the StarClan stranger began to fade. "No! Wait! What does that mean?" She knew it was futile, for StarClanners never elaborated, but she wanted to try. Like usual, the stranger faded off, and she felt her eyes slowly open and the real ThunderClan camp roar to life before her.