CinderHeart: You’re the one that changed every thing. LoinBlaze: No. This was all decided before I was born.

Fireheart tensed, waiting for whatever had hunted down these apprentices to emerge from the trees and attack, but nothing stirred. Feeling as if his legs hardly belonged to him, he sprang down and stumbled across to Swiftpaw. The apprentice lay on his side, his legs splayed out. His black-and-white fur was torn, and his body was covered with dreadful wounds, ripped by teeth far bigger than any cat's. His jaws still snarled and his eyes glared. He was dead, and Fireheart could see that he had died fighting.

Being Tigerstar's son has meant I've had to win the trust of every ThunderClan cat over and over. So I know how frustrating it is when you have to prove something that shouldn't need proving.

I buried her on the shore," he whispered as Fireheart padded up and sat down beside him. "She loved the river." He raised his head to where the first stars of Silverpelt were beginning to appear. "She hunts with StarClan now," he mewed softly. "Someday I'll find her again, and we'll be together.

It's coming, a battle between Starclan and The Dark Forest and every warrior will be called upon to fight.

Power is neither good nor evil, but its user makes it so.

We all have our flaws. But we overcome them. And sometimes, it's our flaws that make us who we are.