An icy wind blew through the ancient trees of the starlit forest. A cool, blue mist hung in the air, smothering the woods in cloud-like tendrils, which seeped into cracks and crevices, invading everywhere, without leaving anything to anyone or anything else.
Further along the woods became dark, eerie, and intoxicating. The fog here was clingy, with a reddish tint and threatened to suffocate anything that entered. There was no starlight here, only darkness and the smell of blood and rotting things. The pools of what should normally be rainwater were a dark red and sticky.
Striding purposefully, a huge senior, cream tom-cat, who seemed to be emitting a dark aura, stepped from the darkness into the starry woods, his massive paws sticky with a metallic smelling, crimson fluid, presumably picked up from the marshy floors of the forest of darkness. Its bronze eyes cooly gazed at its surroundings, "I know you are there," the tom rumbled, its firm voice deep and ominous, "Come out."
A pair of young, emerald eyes peered out from behind a fallen tree, "Minkfur," the voice was gentle, but also stern and filled with wisdom even if it sounded young and high pitched "It's been a while hasn't it?"
"That it has, Cranepaw" Minkfur replied, addressing the young cat by their name.
"Unlike the rest of Starclan," Cranepaw announced slowly, a ginger-mackerel she-cat stepping out from behind the tree, her sleek, fur glinting with starlight, "I am not ready to leave behind our old life."
"You are right. Since the clans moved and were founded again, the place-of-no-stars has decided to leave, I am the only one left who is true to our old ways" his voice was soft and velvety, but Cranepaw seemed to see past it.
Stepping forward boldly -even when the tom in front was nearly three times as big as her- she snarled furiously, "Shut your muzzle! You don't give a whisker about honouring our ancient traditions!" Cranepaw spat, her green eyes blazing like fiery gemstones. "All you crave is to twist and corrupt, to seize power over your crowfood-eating dark-forest by turning the new clans against each other, staining their paws with the blood of their kin! You're nothing but a worthless wisp of fox-dung, and you know it!" Her words carried the weight of seasons long gone, infused with the fervour of youth. Cranepaw was practically spitting out the words by the end, and, though her distaste for this massive cream tom was clear, Minkfur purred a reply, "And you don't want the same thing?"
At this Cranepaw seemed to be at a loss for words. Stuttering and after a brief hesitation, "N-now you know I don't think that, why would I want power all I want is to rebuild my clan- not that I want these cats to die or anything!". After a few moments of trying to regain her composure, Cranepaw flattened her bristling fur and meowed firmly, "Minkfur, there was a reason I called you here."
"Ah yes," Minkfur, purred, "I was beginning to wonder if you were just lonely and wanted a cat to talk to."
For a split-second, Cranepaw glared at him then, "It's about the future of Gladeclan."
"Ahh the kit"
"The kit. Yes," Cranepaw sighed, "We must help him restore the clans. Tch, I wish I had no need to ask a dark-forest cat for help!"