Once, long ago, she had been in a clan. It was OceanClan, or AcaciaClan, or OpalClan, something like that, with a beautiful lake in the centre of the camp, surrounded by bramble dens and leafless trees. That was long ago now. FrostPaw would be an elder if she were still in that clan now. But there had been rouges, BloodClan, led by the ruthless Scourge. They invaded the clan in leafbare, when the clan was struggling, greencough was spreading, and the prey just wasn't there. FrostPaw hadn't stayed to find out what happened next. For all she knew, her Clan could be dead. She felt guilty even to this day, not just for her Clan but for CreamPaw, the clumsy, forgetful kittypet who joined the Clan, and was laughed at by the other apprentices, until smart, popular FrostPaw had befriended her. FrostPaw often wondered where CreamPaw was now. But FrostPaw was a loner. Or was she? Loners didn't have warrior names. They didn't hunt like a warrior. They certainly didn't get prophecies from StarClan. FrostPaw often wondered why StarClan came to her, the cowardly apprentice who ran away from her Clan. But the dreams still came. And StarClan had a prophecy. She'd dreamt it, running through a forest, being chased by rouge cats. She was terrified, even though she lived nowhere near a forest, and knew it was a dream. But suddenly there were cats surrounding her, strong, fierce cats, on her side. A creamish-furred she-cat had turned to look at her, and spoke. "Frost will save the forest, and Mist will rise, ruling over every treetop until the Rose comes." FrostPaw dreamt it every night. And somehow, she knew that her clan was alive, and in terrible danger. She awoke from her den in long grass beside a river. About to catch a fish to eat, she heard a voice behind her...