Jayfeather was one of the last remaining clan cats in Starclan who knew of the Star and Darkness War. Oh, he knew what sorts of fantasies the twolegs had come up with in their heads about the clans and their history (ceurtousy of Firestar, Bluestar, and some of the other leaders who wanted their stories (and the stories of the clans) to be remembered. He knew they were given only a timelapsed glimpse into the entire moon of ambushes and attacks, nightmares and insomnia filled nights that had been draining all four of the clans at the time.

He'd been on the spiritual battlefield. He'd been healing cats from their injuries. He'd soothed the minds of those he could so that they may dream in the safety of Starclan's lands.

They had won. Of course they had. It was not, however, without cost.

Their numbers had dwindled. Skyclan had returned to them only to scatter during the final assault that the Dark Forest threw their way, absorbed into what remained of the four clans.

Four pillars, Starclan had told him. Four pillars holding up mere shambles, ruins of what once was.

Heh, look at him, being all poetic and nostalgic. Pathetic.

Though they'd also said that four would come again, given new form, new adaptations to help them survive the future.

Starting out as two, and then two more.

Two by Two.

Sounded like the beginning line to a prophecy.

Too bad Starclan cats didn't do those anymore, right? They struck deals, they kept to their word and their promises. They changed just as much as, if not more so, than the future clan cats.

Well, Jayfeather mused as he turned his gaze to two groups of cats, slowly building up their numbers as the days went by.

He never was one to follow the rules.