"I'm expecting your kits....." Deathmoon whispered. Dragonfur barely heard it. But the part that did hear her flared to life, and hope. But his eyes wouldn't open. And the only sound was the sobs that came from Deathmoon. He drifted off to the darkness.

"Where am I?" Dragonfur yowled. He was on a little mist platform. Blue sky surrounded him for infinity. A cloud started to form, a swirling ball of white. A cat shape formed, But No distinct fur or size.

"Welcome." A voice called. It sounded like many cats put together. "We have been expecting you."

"Let me go to Deathmoon!" Dragonfur growled. The voice laughed.

"All in good time. First, we must tell you the prophecy." The voice paused.

"The great willow will help the death, and death and gold will fight to the death. Night will fall, along with the Jag, and two will face, the good and the bad. Blood will spill, and blood will cover the hill, But one will win, and the other will die, because in the battle of good and evil, your heart never lies. "

"What does it mean?" Dragonfur questioned.

"I can't tell you. But Deathmoon will learn soon enough. And you can tell her you know about it." The voice added quickly.

"Wait! You said I can tell her about it, does that mean I'm not dead?" Dragonfur felt hope flood through him. He could see his Deathmoon and their beautiful kits.

"No. You are very much alive, But you are on the brink of death. We have to hope you will survive. But I have a feeling you will." The voice drifted off. "Oh, and name one of your kits Bloodkit."

"Why?!" Dragonfur yowled, But nobody answered. The mist cat was gone. And He was alone, alone on the cloud.