Hi! I originally wrote this stroy for the Warriors forums, but not I'm reposting it here. By the way, it takes place in the past, so it's not technically an alternate universe, but it might conflict with the DOTC plot.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Warriors. There, I said it.

I have seen much. Much more than you would believe.

Your elders tell tales of my heroic deeds. But their stories hardly compare to the true story - unchanged with time, unwavering in details.

You are about to see history unfold - the pain, the despair, the battles, and most of all, the hope - from the eyes of those who were there.

Those who made history.

The first thing I remember was being alone.

I raced through the streets, lost and confused. I didn't know of the world, then. I only knew the dark and cold of the alleys, the reek of Twoleg food gone to waste, the roughness of the strange black ground beneath my tiring paws. Actually, I'm not sure I was even aware of that, at the time. I only knew that I was scared, and hungry, and tired, and that I was looking for... well, I didn't know what, yet.

Sometimes things chased me. Twolegs, monsters, dogs, it didn't matter to me. I just kept running. I didn't know what they were, and I didn't care if they wanted to hurt me or help me. As far as I knew, I was born running, and I was still running, and I was going to keep running forever.

At least, that's what I thought.

I don't know how long I held out for. Time wasn't important to me then. I don't remember the sun rising or setting. I don't think I would have cared if the sun fell on top of me. I would probably have kept running, right out of myself and into Starclan, and kept running, without distraction or hesitation.

But there was a time when nothing chased me. Of course, the world was still out to get me. Rain started to pour down. I didn't know what it was, this cold wetness coming down from the sky, but my only thought was to get the stuff out of my fur so that I could keep going.

I ran into yet another dark alley. Trash was littered everywhere, and the entire place was filled with a horrible, indescribable reek. Of course, it might have been flowers and catmint, for all I cared.

Then I did something that I hadn't done, ever, in my entire life.

I sat down.

And at that moment, I realized that there was nothing more important that lying down and closing my eyes. There was nothing more important than sleep.

I don't know if he came before or after I blacked out. But I saw him, saw him as clearly as my own paws, when there was nothing more important than running.

His fur? There was no color. He was covered in a shadow, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not see anything but his eyes.

But his eyes. They were a piercing blue, and the longer I looked into them, the more convinced I was that he knew. He knew what had happened to me, and what would happen to me, and he had known even before I was born, even before my ancestors were born. And in the future, when I would be nothing more than a memory, and my body would have long since crumbled to dust, well, he would know that, too.

He spoke to me. If you value your sanity, do not ask me to describe his voice.

He said to me, "Go to the forest, young one." None of that prophecy mumbo-jumbo you get today. After the sharp-eyed jay and the roaring lion, blood will spill blood and the lake will run red, no, none of what they say these days makes any sense. He told me, "Go to the forest."

So I did the only logical thing I could think of, in that state.

I went to the forest.