A cold wind blew through the tall grasses that night, bringing with it the promise of a harsh leafbare. He fluffed his fur up against the cold but kept his eyes trained on the horizon, waiting.

They should be back by now, he thought. Perhaps the midnight patrol encountered an intruder and that was why they were late. Regardless, he would wait for their return. It was what a good leader did; and, besides that, Heatherfur was on the patrol.

A warm feeling spread through him at the thought of her name. The golden she-cat had captured his heart just when he'd resigned himself to believing he would never find a suitable mate. She was intelligent, strong and a great fighter, all of which were reasons he'd made her his deputy.

The more personal reason, however, was that it brought her closer to him. He had not yet made his feelings known, though at times he felt like his chest might burst from keeping them caged.

Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the heavy, bright moon above. Tonight is the night.

A rustling in the grasses behind him distracted him and he turned in time to see a brown and white cat jump up to settle beside him.

"I see common sense has no business where love is concerned," she mewed, flicking his ear with her long tabby tail.

Startled, the tom looked at his medicine cat with widened amber eyes.

She purred. "Heatherfur's a wonderful deputy and a great warrior. It's been obvious to me for a while now that you have feelings for her, Sootstar."

"I suppose they call you Finchwatcher for a reason," he replied.

"I may be more observant than an average cat, but I'm not the only one who has noticed," the older she-cat continued. "I must caution you, though: don't let your affections blind you. You are first and foremost the leader of MoorClan and your loyalties must lie with your Clan and StarClan, not with a she-cat."

Sootstar flinched at her words. "Can I not be loyal to both?"

Finchwatcher did not reply, instead staring up at the full moon. A moment later, a hiss escaped her mouth and she rose, hackles raised and fur on end. Following her gaze, a jolt of fear ran through the MoorClan leader.

"Great StarClan," he murmured. A shadow had passed over the moon, masking its right side. As the two cats watched, the shadow spread and the light coming from the moon dimmed, covering the moor in darkness.

"StarClan prophesied this night," Finchwatcher breathed. "They knew this was going to happen."

Eyes still trained on the slowly vanishing moon, Sootstar did not register the rustling of the grasses until almost too late. The figure jumped at him with claws unsheathed, forcefully knocking him to the ground. The grey and black tom defended himself, raking his claws over the attacker's face.

A yowl from the side told him MoorClan's medicine cat was in a similar predicament. Sootstar struggled to his paws, dealing his attacker a blow heavy enough to knock him to the ground before leaping to defend Finchwatcher. He arrived too late, her howls of pain cut off abruptly moments before he hit her killer.

He plunged his claws into the murderer without a second thought, taking them by surprise. Bringing his weight down on the cat's chest, he heard a satisfying crunch as its body broke and crumbled to the ground.

With his lips curled back, Sootstar glanced down at his kill only to stop dead in his tracks. A wave of cold fear washed over him as he recognized the dead yellow eyes of his brother. Turning to glance at his own attacker, he recognized the grass-coloured pelt of Yewtail, one of his senior warriors.

Dimly, the shocked leader became aware of screeches and battle cries coming from the direction of MoorClan's camp. Touching his nose gently to Finchwatcher's in a silent goodbye, he took off, willing his paws to move faster as the sounds of killing grew louder.

When he arrived, the camp was littered with corpses and washed with blood. In what little light the moon still shone, he caught the tips of retreating tails in the grasses, moving in the direction of the Gathering Place. Only two battling cats remained: Honeyfang, one of his own warriors, and a she-cat he knew to be from SeaClan.

Pouncing, he dragged the SeaClan intruder to the ground, holding her down by the throat and pressing his face into hers.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he hissed. The she-cat's face remained blank, but her eyes were lit by a bloodlust the likes of which Sootstar had never seen.

"Answer me!" he roared. A glint of fear crossed the warrior's face before the blankness returned.

He killed her in a single swipe, a chill running up his spine as her dead eyes stared up at him. Turning, Sootstar surveyed the camp. Honeyfang lay on the ground, wounded sides heaving.

"Finchwatcher, where is she?" the she-cat gasped.

"Dead."

"Then we're all dead," the warrior said quietly. Sootstar listened to her breathing begin to fade until the only sound in the night was that of his frantically beating heart. Scenting the air, he found the scents of all three Clans.

A joint attack by SeaClan and RockClan? he thought. The Clans are in a time of peace. Yet there are kits and their mothers killed in their sleep, medicine cats murdered in cold blood...

The fear grew when he spotted a dull golden pelt amongst the mass of dead bodies. Heart threatening to beat right out of his chest, her name escaped his jaws before he could stop it.

The feeling of relief that spread through him when he saw it was not Heatherfur, but her sister Fawnheart, brought with it the sharp claws of guilt. Finchwatcher's words of caution returned to him but he shook them out of his head, turning in the direction of the Gathering Place.

Complete darkness covered the moor now, the only light the glow of Sootstar's amber eyes as he pelted after the attackers. The scent of MoorClan hit him as he travelled, filling the tom with a sense of hope and confusion. Were MoorClan's attackers taking prisoners? Or were there traitors within MoorClan's ranks? The latter filled him with dread and spurred him forward.

As Sootstar approached High Rocks, the site of the Gathering Place, the scents of all three Clans grew and, with them, the dread plaguing his body. Quietly, he crept closer, leaping lightly onto a low rock where he could remain hidden from view. Voices reached him, low and fast.

"MoorClan?"

"Taken care of."

"SeaClan?"

"Dead or dying."

"And RockClan has been razed to the ground."

A low purr followed the last statement, one that Sootstar knew well. He shook his head, short on breath as the realization came to him.

Claws stabbing into his back brought him back to reality and he screeched in pain as they dragged him from his perch. Teeth buried into his scruff and dragged him out of hiding into the High Rocks clearing.

"Well, well, who do we have here?" Rushclaw, a well-known SeaClan warrior, stepped forward. Through the haze before his eyes, Sootstar could make out the forms of two other cats behind him - the tabby pelt of Robinfang, a young warrior of RockClan, and the golden pelt of his own deputy. Around the clearing stood cats of all three Clans, watching him with blank eyes.

"What is this madness?" Sootstar croaked.

"A rebellion, dear one." Heatherfur's voice floated to him softly, though the words dripped with mockery. "The Clans are weak, too busy taking kittypets and loners into their ranks, crossing borders without consequence and sharing prey and herbs."

"It's a time of peace," he replied.

The she-cat moved forward, walking on silent paws. Her intelligent grey eyes fixed onto his own. "No. It's a time of weakness."

She turned to address the gathered cats. "Tonight is the night!" she cried. "Our frail Clans are no more and we are going to start anew, stronger than ever before! Ambition, intelligence and strength have brought us this far and they will continue to lead us forward in this new era - the Era of DarkClan!"

Her words were met with yowls of approval and Heatherfur pressed forward. "Compassion for outsiders and inter-Clan affections have made us feeble and overthrown our Clan structure. From now on, those feelings will be no more. We will be better than these fools, led astray by their love."

Sootstar stared up at Heatherfur, heart twisting sharply as her eyes fell on him once more.

"Look where love brought him." Her jaws twisted into a sneer. "Even StarClan warned you. But you refused to listen."

An image of heather flowers left before his den flashed through Sootstar's mind. He shook his head, refusing to believe her. She was his faithful deputy, she wouldn't go through with this.

The coldness in Heatherfur's grey eyes as she leaned towards him spoke differently.

"Look where love brought you," she whispered. She was so close he could feel their heartbeats beating in time, her warmth pressing into him even as dread filled him with cold.

Her sweet breath washed over him one last time. "It brought you to die."

// Welcome to my brand new story! I've been thinking about this plot line for a while now and decided to get a start on it, seeing as The Coming Storm has been hit by writer's block. Let me know what you think!