Hi, this is AgentSmith321. This is my first fan fiction, so bear with me. I'm also incredibly theme-oriented, and some find that annoying.
Symbolism & Theme Analysis in Prologue (Read after Story): Color of cat is gray. Gray symbolizes stability and authority. Lack of change in nature perceived by the gray cat relates to societal issues of conservatism, authority, determinism, and tradition. Cyclical patterns (like seasons) described in first paragraph, relates to the need of societal change, which the self-proclaimed all-knowing cat is against. Food chain example, relates to the hierarchical authoritarianism of the Warriors Cat's society, and human society. "Interprets will of ancestors", relates to the role of religion in society. "Tyranny of certain individuals and collectives", this shows that this cat is obviously against any change, or revolutionary force from arising.
To the west, the sunset elongated across the horizon, the silhouette of rolling hills and trees blotting out portions of the orange mass. A conglomeration of almost phantasmagoric color patterns served as the backdrop for the sun. Orange, red, purple, all conjoining. To the east, mist shrouded the tops of forested mountains in the distance; crystalline lakes were present at the bottoms of these monolithic mountains, the brilliant, colorful, reflection of the sun rebounded off the glass surface of the pools of truth. This nomadic feline observed the cyclical patterns of nature in action with a pathological obsession. The consistency, the lack of change, the determinism, the repetitiveness. The sun rose and fell, flowers bloom after the snow melts, then the leaves fall to the ground yet again, and the cycle repeats itself. The cat eats the mouse, the mouse eats the insects, the insects eat other smaller insects, and the hierarchy continued. It was the way nature worked. Change was to be found nowhere. The pattern itself stayed. It was tradition.
The conservation of tradition was what this gray feline had devoted his entire life to. The will of the ancestors, the promotion of conformity, maintaining stability was what he perpetuated. To protect populations of cats against the tyranny of certain individuals and majorities was his sole purpose. He interpreted the will of ancestors, and acted accordingly. He stabilized. He preserved. He conserved the tradition. This cat was fulfilled, and felt accomplished. He had saved an innumerable number of collectives from complete and utter moral extirpation. The tom was well aware that a small minority of nihilistic cats always resisted the stability and safety of him. The tom never understood the logic of that. Too many times, the stable society had been brought to its knees by radical individuals and minorities, and majorities, too, as a matter of fact. Their excuses for dictatorship and chaos were often equality, individualism, anarchy, liberty, and many other serpentine concepts that had proven to be detrimental to the cats. And yet, these iconoclastic insurrectionaries never let go of their flawed images of society.
The lithe gray cat padded along the worn trail, carrying him down the path. The path of the majority. He swiveled his head back and forth, observing the landscape with his icy blue eyes. One paradox, one conundrum, still, existed like a splinter in his consciousness. The one thing that made him doubt the pre-determination that he was so sure of.
I chose to do this. I chose to prevent change. I chose. Agitated and hungry, the cat grew incensed at his own skepticism about his own beliefs. I can wander off this trail, just veer off, just let go, just free the mind….. BUT NO! The cat kneaded the soil with his paws, in frustration. The cat had grown frustrated with his own excessive cogitation. That contemplation was worth nothing. He reminded himself that he mustn't allow himself to be adulterated by these trivial hypothetical conundrums.
The gray tom's growling stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since sunrise. He stopped and easily pounced and dispatched a small vole burrowing in the bank of a stream, and greedily devoured it, then carried on. The cat prayed that he would encounter a community of cats soon. The tom sighed, and, looking north, discerned the outline of human nests. Cats are near. The lone traveler had overheard some lawless, violent cats from a human nest not too far south of him discuss cats that lived in the forest by a lake, up north. They spoke of invasion and war. He padded on, into the distance, as the sun sank behind the horizon, which appeared warped, due to the lack of objects impeding the view of realms far away. He padded softly along, tail drooping, towards the northern mountains, where the forest cats where, and where the zeitgeist shall be distorted, yet again.