Plot

A great frost overtook the forest one leafbare, taking its toll on all wildlife from the smallest twoleg kit to the strongest of warriors. Yet the clans endured, sparing prey for queens and kits and creating a community between medicine cats to keep all four clans as healthy as possible. They lived, making it to newleaf and the glacier floods that came with it and as newleaf turned green it looked like they were going to be able to push through yet again. Queens were glowing, clans were growing, and the supply of herbs and remedies flourished.

Yet Starclan was silent.

The medicine cats could not make nose or tail of it, why wouldn't their ancestors speak to them? There were no incoming prophecies, no odd dreams, no contact with fallen loved ones. The clan cats didn't think much of this, hoping their ancestor's silence was merely a comment on how prosperous they were, how unnecessary their help was, until one message got through...

...this is the silence before the storm.

The next leafbare, disaster struck, freezing over the river and all hopes of plantlife, driving prey deep into their burrows and creating an accumulation of snow three foxlengths high, and avalanches down from Mistralclan territory that caused the clans to become trapped within camp, searching desperately for an escape, a chance at life, but with no hope. Great warriors died trying to find a way out, others died by their own clanmate's claws as stirrings of desperation drove them mad. Kits suffered without milk from their mothers, and slowly but surly the warrior code began to work against them as with each kit's fed mouth, another warrior died of starvation.

The snow began to melt, flooding camps and filling the sky with the stench of crowfood from the dead bodies. The remaining cats needed their leaders and medicine cats now more than ever, but they were gone, the eldest of cats barely warriors, apprentices who would have been tested during leafbare if not for the snow.

In the calm afterwards the young, starving cats slowly ventured out of their camps, finding the gathering place destroyed, the boarder markers erased, and the old training fields turned into a horrible graveyard for parents, siblings, and mentors alike.

These young cats are now faced with many difficult questions:

Who shall lead them?
Who shall heal them?
Can they survive?
Is Starclan even watching this?

For those of us who still believe... Starclan is waiting to hear our prayers.