"We need to send them the prophecy! Don't you get it, Griffintuft?" A black she cat with blue eyes pleaded.

"A little longer, Ravenstrike, a little longer," an old creamy tom with green eyes rasped.

With a sigh, Ravenstrike - the black she cat - walked away, grumpily muttering stuff.

"They need to know!" She mumbled angrily. " Fox dung!" She cursed when she tripped over a twig. ^Can anything get any worse?^ she thought. She was a StarClan cat, a Clan where good cats go when they die. Former SkyClan cat, she was good at leaping. She pounced up onto a tree, the second to lowest branch. She dug her claws in carefully, not imagining what it would be like to slip. Wrapping tail over her nose, she dozed off.

"Ravenstrike!"

"Ravenstrike!"

The calls woke her up. Wearily opening her eyes, she looked down. A brown tabby tom was there, his mouth open to yowl again. With a grunt, Ravenstrike slipped from the tree, landing on all four paws. Shaking herself, she looked up.

"I just wanted to tell you that the cats are going to be chosen for the Roar Battle today. Do you want to watch?" The tom asked.

Ravenstrike pricked her ears with interest as she nodded. Forgetting her tired legs, she dashed up a slope towards a pool, ripples ringing as rain started to fall. Ravenstrike brushed up her fur, not allowing the cold to get inside of her. The two cats lay down and touched their muzzles to the cool water. With a dazzling light, they were both brung into Snowclan, who were naming the cats who were to take part in the Roar battle.