A golden-furred she-lion with long, sunlit fur sat on a smooth rock in the heart of a moonlit clearing. Her amber eyes, sharp yet thoughtful, reflected the night sky as she listened to the soft breathing of lions sleeping in their dens. Above her, Silverpelt stretched across the dark heavens, each star a reminder of the warriors who had walked this path before her.

The underbrush at the clearing’s edge rustled softly. A shadow detached itself from the gloom, revealing a slender white lioness with delicate black spots scattered across her coat. Her orange eyes glimmered as she stepped forward and dipped her head respectfully.

“Greetings, Sunstar,” she meowed, her voice soft but steady.

The golden she-lion blinked and lowered her gaze to meet the newcomer’s. “Greetings, Willowclaw. How is Littlefoot?”

Willowclaw leapt gracefully onto the rock and settled beside her leader, curling her tail neatly over her paws. “Sleeping. Her cold is mild. A few more sunrises of rest, and she’ll be back to nagging the apprentices,” she purred, amusement flickering across her face.

Sunstar allowed a faint smile before her gaze drifted skyward once more. Silence stretched between them until Willowclaw spoke again.

“Are you searching Moonclan for answers?”

Sunstar sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Yes. It’s been many moons since they last sent me a sign. And you? Has Moonclan spoken in your dreams?”

Willowclaw shook her head, ears flicking back. “No. They’ve been silent.” She studied Sunstar’s face. “What troubles you, Sunstar?”

“The lack of prey... and warriors,” Sunstar admitted, her tail-tip twitching. “There’s always less prey in leaf-bare, but our patrols bring back fewer catches than ever before. And the Clan…” Her voice dropped. “The Clan is shrinking. Too few warriors, too few apprentices. If this continues, we won’t have the strength to defend our borders when newleaf comes.”

Willowclaw’s whiskers twitched in quiet amusement, though concern lingered in her eyes. “It’s always hardest when the trees are bare. But greenleaf will bring more prey and, with luck, more kits. The forest has survived worse.”

Sunstar gave a slow nod. “Yes... you’re right.”

The two she-lions sat quietly, watching the stars glitter like dew across the sky. Then, without warning, one star flared brighter than the rest—a silver flame burning in the heart of the night.

Willowclaw stiffened, fur bristling along her spine. Her ears shot forward, and her tail fluffed out twice its size.

Sunstar noticed the healer’s reaction but held her tongue. She had learned long ago not to interrupt when a medicine lion stood on the edge of a vision.

After a long moment, Willowclaw blinked and looked down, her expression troubled.

“It was a message,” she murmured, her voice low and reverent.

Sunstar leaned in. “What did Moonclan say?”

Willowclaw hesitated, as if tasting the words before speaking them aloud. Finally, she meowed, “Born under leaf-bare, light will rise in the smallest paws to save the Clan.”

“Light?” Sunstar echoed, eyes narrowing. “How can light save the Clan? Prey and warriors save the Clan.”

Willowclaw flicked her tail, frustration clouding her face. “Your guess is as good as mine, Sunstar. That’s the message Moonclan sent. Clear, yet clouded. As always.”

Sunstar studied her, then gave a slow nod. “You are a talented healer, Willowclaw. You’ve never misread Moonclan’s words before. If that is what they sent us, then we must trust it.”

Her gaze drifted skyward once more, to the cold, silent stars. Somewhere, among those ancient lights, Moonclan watched.