I wake up. I stretch. I rapidly blink to adjust my eyes to the daylight. I try to convince myself today's not the day. I fail miserably. A loud chime rang twelve times, signaling that it was only twelve hours until it happens. Twelve hours until we gather in the clearing. Twelve hours until three of our own are condemned to certain death. Certain death, the Black Sun Games. The games "celebrating" the day the rogues of StarClan won the Great War, condemning the other clans to this treachery. I sigh and look to my side. It's empty. Petalstorm must have left to sleep with Thornstep during the night.