-Prologue-

Wind blew over the rocks, making ghostly noises as One Ear padded up to the woods, his black fur bristling and his tail twitching. The woods towered over him, big and majestic. Leaves crunched as his paws led him into the dark canopy. His one ear turned this way and that, listening for any sign of movement. A mouse scurried behind him and a crow flew overhead, but no other sound came; not even the falling of a leaf. The moon shown through the trees’ leaves, casting dancing movements on the forest floor. One Ear’s muscles ached; he’d been walking all night, and had hunted all day.

Soon he found a small crack between two rocks underneath a large oak. Inside he heard slow, steady breathing. A cat! I thought there were no cats here! He thought. Peering in, One Ear spotted an orange cat with one white paw and a scar over an eye sleeping peacefully. One Ear backed away quietly, then heard a loud yowl. One Eye froze, his heart beating wildly. Is he awake? What will he do? He looks pretty strong…. One Ear shook. COWARD! You can fight him! He thought, and raised his hackles. But no more sound came but the wild beating of One Ear’s heart and the blood rushing in his ears. Then it hit him. Flea brain! He thought. He’s still sleeping! One Ear felt a pang of pity for the cat. He must having a nightmare. He had an urge to wake him, but the cat might be hostile, so he crept away instead.

As he stepped over smooth pebbles by a river, he suddenly felt as though he could walk no more. The river rushing soothed him, and his eyes drooped. He settled down on the sand on the side and allowed sleep to overcome him. I can continue another day….

“Hello?”

One Ear opened his eyes and jumped into the sky. A furry white she-kit stood staring at him with green eyes. She looked as though she were almost an adult, but not quite. One Ear relaxed. He licked a paw and ran it over his ear. The kit watched him. The black tomstretched and sat, unsure of what to say. Fortunately, the white she-kit started the conversation for him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I’ve only seen my mother and father on The Shores.” One Ear drew a line in the sand with a claw nervously.

“I was just passing through. Do you know a scared orange tom? I-” but that’s as far as he got. The small white cat had ducked inside some reeds, her furry pelt shivering. She looked around with wide eyes, seeking the cat that One Ear spoke of.

“N-no. My mother is orange, but she has no scar, and she also has three white paws. She does have an enemy, though- a short-haired ginger tom with one white paw and a scar over one eye- Scar. She told me of him. See, here’s the story….” and the white cat began…

“My mother, River, lived with a group of cats called, ‘Lion Pouncing’. She lived with her mate-to-become, Drip, and his mother and father, as hers had died. She often played around a group of stones called ‘mountain’, as she called it, until she grew to be a couple more moons old then I, and mated Drip. Soon before she became pregnant with me, an evil cat named Faster Stream came and tried to take over. He put the cats into labor, and if they did a thing wrong, he would claw them. If they dared step up to him, he would gather cats and attack the one that had stood up and torture her, then kill her. Then, Scar, who was know as Ginger Fur, gathered many cats and drove off Faster Stream. He was a hero! Cats all over congratulated him, until he decided he was worthy to become leader of Lion Pouncing, but the true leader, Pouncer, wouldn’t step down, so Ginger Fur attacked him. He was drove out as I said, and left bearing the name, ‘Scar.’ Then River became pregnant with me, Frog, and Ink. She thought it too dangerous to stay in Lion Pouncing, so she moved here- a perfect place with a river and short, flat rocks to play on. And it IS perfect- for kits. But I’m a big cat now!” Feather suddenly stopped, and said in a low voice, eying him suspiciously. “I advise you to stay away from him. Where did you even learn of him?” One Ear was surprised at the small she-kit. Hetwitched his tail tip as he let the words sink in and finally answered, lying,

“Oh.. around. Cat’s talk. Anyway, what’s your name?” The kit let out a mew of amusement.

“I’m Feather. What’s your name? One Ear, I suppose? Not to be rude!” The she-kit answered. One Ear nodded.

“Yes, actually,” he said. Feather nodded respectfully and leaped on an empty clam shell and rolled around several times, as if fighting hard prey. Finally she mimicked a killing blow, licked her paw, and turned to One Eye, a glimmer of an adventurous spirit in her eyes. She settled down on the sandy shoreline and licked her paw again.

“I bet I could fight Scar! I’m big and tough. Right?” asked Feather excitedly.

“Yes….” agreed One Ear. But a feeling of dread washed over him.

I don’t want to run into any more cats- certainly not Scar….

Chapter 1

Socks padded around in the soft grass beneath the pine trees. The sharp smell of pine and sap clung to everything as the gray and white tabby tom walked over the dewy grass. As he walked past a large pine tree with an owl hole, he heard skittering.

Mouse!

Socks immediately dropped into a hunting crouch. As he moved silently across the wet grass, he caught sight of it. It was munching on a round acorn. The small tom lifted his hind legs and prepared to pounce, when something flew in his face and grabbed the mouse, then flew away, the white mouse growing limp in it’s talons.

Stupid Owl! The tom thought, his belly rumbling. Maybe I’ll come across something else. As he walked across the dewy weeds, he caught another scent. He crept closer to the smell. At first the only scent he could smell was blood, but then a fresh-kill and a cat. Peeking through some shrubs, Socks saw a tortoiseshell she-cat, liking a wound on her paw. She was so thin that he could see her ribs and she looked exhausted. He stepped out of the brush, causing the skinny she-cat to whip around, claws unsheathed. Socks forced his fur to lay flat, and sat down, slowly.

“It’s okay.” the gray and white tom reassured. “I just want to help.” The tortoiseshell cat stepped forward cautiously.

“Who are you and why are you spying on me?” she asked. Socks forced his claws to stay sheathed. “I’m Socks- and I wasn’t spying on you. I want to help. I was just looking for prey, when I smelled blood. Are you hurt?” The she-cat quickly covered her scratch with her tail, embarrassed. She quickly shook her head and slunk to the ground, but kept an eye on the Socks.

“I’m Whiskers, Socks,” she spat. Socks realized that he hadn’t noticed her long whiskers. Socks stole a hungry glance at a dead, half-eaten rat that sat beside her. Whiskers lept on top of it, hissing. Socks jumped away in surprise, yowling as the she-cat scratched his tail with sharp claws. “You just want my prey!”

“No! I want”- he lept aside- “to help!” Whiskers stopped, grabbed her prey in her jaws, and lept away.

That was weird. He thought, and padded away.

Socks tried to shake the memory of whiskers, but he couldn’t rid the thought that he could of helped her. She seemed so helpless. He couldn’t even catch the mouse he’d found, because it reminded him of the rat, and now he was very hungry. The sky was dark and stars where painted across the sky. The gray tom slowly strode to his den in the brambles and lay down in the soft moss. He wished he could know that Whiskers had the same. After a long time, finally sleep washed over him.

A tortoiseshell cat licked her paw and ran smoothly to a den. In it lay an elderly tom. Socks immediately ran over, but as he neared the two cats, they vanished. He looked around wildly, and saw them in the woods. The tortoiseshell, he knew, was Whiskers. Now she and another cat were fighting a large ginger tom. They were far away, so Socks couldn’t make out who the other cat fighting was. All he saw was a flash of gray, and the ginger tom stumbled back. Then his vision blurred, and Socks saw a white face…