A bright silver disc hung in the clear dark sky, signalling the truce between the five - or four, Clans. Yet even though it was to be a night of peace, the night air was ripe with tension. The first battles of a war had been fought, a peace-shattering alliance had been made, cats had been murdered, plots had been brewed, all in the last moon. That was nothing to say of the dangerous secret had been revealed the last time the Clans had met underneath the pale moon and the four Great Oaks. It had been a troubling time for everyone...
The cats of the forest had grown warier and more hostile with each meeting the last few moons, and doubtless things would continue to escalate with this one... but StarClan did not hide the moonlight, and tradition demanded the Clans to come to Fourtrees for the night to share tongues. The stars of Silverpelt were streaked across the sky as well. Were their ancestors blind to the bloodshed that came closer and closer?
The stars were clear to see and the mews and pawsteps of approaching cats grew closer. Soon, inevitably, the trees would ring with the shouts of leaders and angry warriors, and StarClan would not be there to stop it.
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