An ambrosial breeze quietly whispered throughout the island, creating a peaceful atmosphere for all creatures. The encroaching undergrowth on the opposite side of camp even seemed to have a less intimidating effect tonight, as a bright half-moon shone down into the pond at the side, reflecting its own gaze like a mirror. Tree branches rustled together as the wind increased in power but this went unnoticed by all except for the tom down by the waterhole, as he lift his head from drinking.

The dark tom blinked and hauled his body out of the crouching position he'd been in, lapping away at the water droplets that clung to his black muzzle with his rough tongue, and glanced about curiously. The loud rattling of the tree arms didn't seem to have disturbed any of the sleeping warriors or apprentices. But something else was eating at him. Narrowing his eyes, Ravensky briefly glimpsed his silhouette on the pale, dusty ground before rising to his paws.

Beside him, the wild flowers danced energetically in the gusting wind. He watched as the wind picked up again, this time strong enough to ruffle his thick fur, and plucked a few pedals, four of them in total, from the flower's stems and began to carry them away. Suddenly, the wind ceased flowing, and a single pedal landed on the pond, and started to sink into the moon's mirror. The other pedals gently flew away into the breeze, leaving their friend behind.

The black tom, being the medicine cat that he was, stiffened as he interpreted the message the StarClan was sending to him. His usually neat fur was bristling madly now, standing on end in wild clusters of hackles. He needed to tell Barbstar what had just transpired, and what their warrior ancestors warned them of: