A shiver ran through Jayfeather. “But he hasn’t chosen a successor!”

“I know.” Cloud’s eyes, like tiny moons, were fixed on Jayfeather. “Tomorrow it will be your duty to name the next Stoneteller.” As Jayfeather gaped at her in dismay, she went on. “Not all of us have abandoned the Tribe. Some of us still have faith that it will survive.”

“But—but how can I appoint a new Healer?” Jayfeather stammered.

Cloud leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “Because you appointed the first, remember?” She turned to look up the cliff, angling her ears toward a shape at the very top of the ranks of cats, glowing and barely visible.

“Half Moon…” Jayfeather breathed. He strained to see more clearly, but he was too far away to make out her features.

“We have been grateful to you for all these years,” Cloud went on. “We always knew that you would come back. What you do now will affect all cats, past and future, from the lake and the mountains and the old forest where your Clans lived for so long.”

Jayfeather wrenched his gaze from Half Moon and stared at Cloud. “I don’t understand….” he faltered.

“The end of the stars draws near,” Cloud continued. “Three must become four, to challenge the darkness that lasts forever.”

Jayfeather stepped back, realizing that the ranks of starry cats around them had begun to fade. There was darkness on all sides of the hollow, penetrated by only the tiniest faint gleams of light.

“But we have always been three!” he cried. “Who is the fourth?”

The icy glow of starlight from Cloud’s pelt grew dimmer. Her voice grew fainter, too, as she replied, “The fourth is with you already. You will not have to search far.”

Jayfeather jerked awake to darkness and the endless dripping of water in the Cave of Pointed Stones. Scrambling to his paws, he ran into the main cavern and down the tunnel that led into Stoneteller’s den. The old cat’s scent wreathed around him as he halted, panting. Jayfeather could hear Stoneteller’s breath bubbling as he tried to speak.

“I see them now!” Every word was a struggle. “My ancestors! They have not abandoned us! I am so sorry….”

His voice faded. Jayfeather waited for the hoarse breathing to start up again, but there was only silence. He stood with his head bowed. “Rest well, Stoneteller,” he murmured. “The Tribe of Endless Hunting is waiting for you.”

He padded out into the cavern and picked up Wing’s scent as the she-cat approached. “Is everything okay?” she mewed.

“No,” Jayfeather replied. “Stoneteller has died.”

Wing let out a wail of grief and terror; disturbed by the noise, the rest of the Tribe began to stir. Their dismay churned around Jayfeather like waves: grief and loss and the fear of being without a leader.

“Did Stoneteller name his successor before he died?” Wing asked.

A tense silence slammed down in the cave. Jayfeather realized that the whole Tribe was waiting to hear his answer. He took a deep breath.