The pitch black blanket of night draped over the sky; seeming to twist and warp the shadows that the pine trees cast onto the forest floor. Silver stars, their light like scattered embers of a dying fire, dotted the atramentous curtain of sky. The ivory light of the moon illuminated the surface of a smooth rock that jutted out from the soft forest ground. Moonbeams danced on the forest floor, the dappled light from them revealing a dark ginger tom, gazing serenely at the blinking, silvery pinpricks in the sky. Unobserved by the tom, a wisp of smoke rose in the distance. After a few moments, the ginger cat blinked, noticing it for the first time.

The tendrils of smoke could barely be seen against the inky darkness, but the tom's sharp amber gaze narrowed as his muscles tensed underneath his sleek pelt. He leaped down from the rock, and pelted to the smoke, his paws picking their way soundlessly around twigs and rocks. Trusting his nose to guide him, he darted through the familiar territory, swerving away from trees and ducking low under their leafless branches. Though he was panting heavily, his breath visible in swirls of mist, he didn't slow his pace or stop until he reached the source of the smoke.

A fire. He skidded to a stop, his amber eyes widening as he took in the roaring blaze burning in front of him. His pelt prickling with unease; he glanced back. The pine forest was far away; a smudge of black in the distance. The tom breathed a sigh of relief, before taking a cautious step away from the blaze. The smoke was heavy; blocking his vision as he squinted through the thick veil.

Suddenly, over the loud cracks and snaps of the fire, was a tiny mewl, so quiet that the leader wondered if the smoke was clouding his senses. He turned away from the fire. The fear urged his paws forward towards the safety of his Clan, but there was something that made him pause. He peered into the smoke, and this time, not a heartbeat had passed before it came again.

Ignoring his instincts that screamed at him to stay away, he followed the sound through the flames to an ancient oak tree, where a tiny grey kit was crouched, trembling. Her sea-green eyes met his with a surprising intensity as the fire surged forward, creeping closer and closer.

He immediately knew that if he waited any longer, the flames would engulf the small kit.

Without thinking, the tom picked the small kit up by the scruff of the neck and bounded away, far from the flames that burned brighter, sending plumes of ember lighting up the night sky. A thick layer of cinder and ash coated the once vibrant forest floor, as the tom carried the kit far away from the burning world. The tiny bundle meowed helplessly, batting him with sheathed paws, though her green eyes burned with something akin to the fire she was found in.

The land was deserted, with only the occasional rustle of leaves breaking the silence; it was clear that whoever had left the kit there was gone now.

Breathing heavily, the tom set the kit down, his thoughts torn as he glanced to the far away shadowy expanse pine trees shrouded of darkness; his home. He hesitated, staring at the grey bundle before shaking his pelt and helping the kit to her paws.

She met his eyes; her green eyes fierce as she stood on trembling paws. The tom let out a small purr, marvelling at the strength of the kit born of ember and ash.

"One day, you'll make a fine DawnClan warrior," the tom meowed outloud to the darkness.

The grey kit meowed louder, her eyes unblinking as they met the tom's stare.

"Your name shall be Cinderkit," the tom decided as he picked her up by the scruff of her neck.

A kit born from fire and ash, he thought, as he bounded away. He cast one last look at the smouldering landscape before slipping into the darkness, heading for his clan. Behind him, the world continued to burn, until the silhouette of the tom with the kit in his jaws was only a smudge in the distance.

And so, the tales of the stars began.