Miststar was lounging in his den, misty eyes seeming to focus on something far away. The eyes were eyes of one who was not bothered by life, but the brain behind them was one of evil. It was a twisted mind, made harsh by life's experiences. It was still, however, pure evil. Miststar was thinking, within that brain of his, about where the next RiverClan attack should be. His opponents had been mainly on the defensive during this war, but that could change at any moment. RiverClan and WindClan must continue to strike until their enemies were all dead. Down to the kit born that very day. Where to strike? So many places... And then he had it. They would strike at the most vulnerable point...