Chapter 1

Rocky's panted in exhaustion, then tried to hold it in. His heart burned from lack of oxygen. He found shelter under a large bush, but didn't let himself breath. He was afraid he would be too loud—and would be caught.

The sky was pitch black. The moon shone brightly but it wasn't enough for Rocky. He couldn't see as much as he would have liked. He could only rely on his sense of smell—and his luck. Allowing himself silent, shallow breathes, Rocky pricked his ears. Did he hear footsteps? Or was it just his imagination overreacting? Suddenly he heard a loud crunch. Rocky's body tensed, and he made his breathing even shallower, until he almost couldn't breathe.

A loud yowl was heard and Rocky almost fainted in fear. Loud, pounding pawsteps drew near, and Rocky heard the strong heartbeat of a predator reading himself for the kill. Then, suddenly, it exploded into him, with flashing eyes and outstretched gleaming claws. Rocky was the prey!

He sprang away, but not without a price. A deep gash ran down his leg. Shrieking with fury and terror, Rocky tumbled away, crashing through the undergrowth. The night had suddenly been filled with yowling, screeching cats. The gleam of claws, and the clink of bared teeth filled Rocky's ears. Fur flew, and blood splattered. Rocky tried to get up but he was frozen in fear, watching the dreaded battle unfurl before his eyes. Then, suddenly, someone let out a warning yowl. Suddenly, the claws of a pouncing cat were all Rocky could see.

Rocky's eyes flew open, and he yowled in terror. After a few moments of deadly silence, Rocky breathed a small sigh of relief, then winced. It was only a dream—no, a nightmare. Rocky got up, but cringed in pain. Had he slept in such an uncomfortable position? The young cat glanced at himself, squinting in the dark. Rocky sniffed the tangy smell of blood. His heart skipped a beat as he realized it was his blood. The ginger tom limped to the nearest window so he get some moonlight to see by. He bristled when he saw a deep, raw gash down his leg. After sniffing it gently, he gave it a cautious lick. Shaking his fur, Rocky limped toward the cat door. He would not be able to sleep now. Rocky wondered what to do about his gash. Would his humans help him? Only in the morning, Rocky realized. Grunting with effort, Rocky pushed his way through the door. The moonlight shone brightly. Rocky breathed in the clean air. He surveyed his garden, and then leapt down. His wounded leg buckled at the last minute, and he landed awkwardly and was painfully reminded of his injury. What was he even doing? He should be resting—or waking up his housefolk. Grumbling to himself, Rocky crawled toward the small crack in the strong white fence. It was just small enough for him to squeeze through. His housefolk hadn't discovered it yet and he hoped they wouldn't fix it anytime soon. It was very useful for sneaking out.

Rocky slipped through the opening, careful to keep his wounded leg as close to the ground as possible. Rocky was beginning to think he was going crazy. Going out in to the woods at night with a wounded leg? Rocky wondered if he really believed in the rumors Prince told. Prince was a fluffy white cat with just as much attitude as he had fur. Prince claimed to know the secrets of the forest cats, but Rocky really doubted it. Would such a lazy cat venture into the forest?

Rocky thought about another friend, George. He had been great fun, just as Prince was despite his kinks. Then one day George went to the vet, and came back much plumper and lazier then he had before. Rocky and Prince pondered day and night, until finally Prince came up with the perfect solution. George fell of the roof of a tall building and was never the same again. Rocky shivered. He wondered if his daring escapade was even worse than falling off a roof. It seemed going even fat lazy George had enough sense to not to go into the forest.

Rocky bristled as he walked deeper into the forest. At least the lazy cat had more sense than him. As scared as he was beginning to become, something urged Rocky on. Rocky didn't know what it was. All his dreams about the forest were terrifying. Prince's accounts of the forest included bloodthirsty cats who ate live rabbits for dinner—bones and all. Maybe the knowledge of Prince's stories had seeped into his dreams. But they were just dreams, right? How could anything happen to him in real life? The cats in his dreams could do nothing to him. Rocky sighed in defeat. He was not convincing himself. Puffing up his chest, Rocky padded forward, one faltering step at a time.

Suddenly, leaves rustled behind Rocky. Rocky bristled, pricking his ears, crouching low to the ground. How could something have come from behind him? Rocky hoped it was a bird. He had never caught one before, but he had practiced in his garden—on Prince. Rocky slowly turned around, careful to place his feet as quietly as he could. Crouching lower to the ground, Rocky padded forward, proud at how smoothly his muscles adjusted. Rocky was about to leap when something leaped out in front of him. It crashed into him with full force. Rocky screeched out loud, only to be silenced by a mouthful of fur. As Rocky crashed into the shrubbery, his mind screaming with pain from his leg wound. Rocky struggled and squirmed, but his attacker kept a firm hold. Rocky felt thorn-sharp claws pricking his neck fur. Rocky thought fast. This was probably a forest cat. Not that he wanted to believe Prince, but he had to, when evidence was right before his eyes.

His attacker pressed Rocky's face into the ground, and Rocky shut his eyes tightly. Well, he would be able to see his attacker if his plan worked. Sending a silent prayer, Rocky flipped over on his back, with his belly fur exposed. It was a big risk—the forest cat would be a much better fighter then him, no matter how much he practice-sparred with Prince. Not even a second later, Rocky began fiercely clawing his opponent's belly. Yowling, the other cat leapt off. The power of the jump crushed the breath out of Rocky, but it was for a split second. His attacker had landed in a perfect crouch position, blood spilling into a pool on the ground. The other cat hissed threateningly, but Rocky's eyes were only on the pool of blood under the wild cat. Did I do that? Rocky was terrified—of the forest cat, and himself. The forest cat was a better fighter then Rocky could have ever imagined, but so was he! Rocky struggled to get up. He felt his leg give way, but he forced his other three legs to stand strong. He would not show any weakness to this forest cat, in case it got any other ideas.

Rocky finally got a good look at his attacker. It was a large dark brown kitten, about the same age as Rocky, despite his enormous size. It was a tomcat. He smelt of the wild forest beyond. Rocky shivered. He stood, still bristling till he was twice his normal size.

"Calm down, kitty, don't attract any more attention."

Rocky knew if his fur stood out anymore it would probably fall off. Rocky kept him under a threatening glare.

"I'll fight you if I have to!" Rocky growled, wondering if he could really keep his word.

The tom leapt up, bristling. "Was that a challenge?"

"Hold up!" meowed another unfamiliar voice.

Rocky whipped around to see another kitten crawl out of the bushes. This was a large silver tabby tom. His fur was still kit-soft, but Rocky could see the hard muscle rippling under the soft fur. The exact same as the other tom that had attacked him earlier. A new wave of fear washed over Rocky. Could he really fight two forest cats? Rocky was suddenly sure this was his last walk in the forest. He might not make it back home. He silently sent goodbyes to his housefolk and Prince. Goodbye, world.

"Flintpaw!" snarled the brown tom. "Don't bother me! Let me finish this!"

"Calm down, Hawkpaw!" mewed the gray kitten. "It's only a kittypet!"

Kittypet? Rocky then realized the Flint-something was referring to him. He was the kittypet. … What was a kittypet?

"You put up quite a fight!" the silver tom exclaimed, now addressing Rocky. He had bright dark green eyes. His sliver fur gleamed in the moonlight.

"I could have finished him!" snarled the brown tom.

The gray kitten sat down closer to Rocky. Rocky wondered whether to trust either of them. The gray kitten did seem a lot friendlier, though. "I'm Flintpaw!" he mewed. "And the stupid furball over there is Hawkpaw." Hawkpaw spat at the last comment. "What's your name?" Flintpaw continued as if Hawkpaw hadn't reacted.

Rocky clenched his jaws, wondering whether to answer. "Rocky," he finally allowed.

"Rocky." Flintpaw said thoughtfully. "Interesting!"

"So, what are you doing out here, kitty?" the brown kitten, Hawkpaw, sneered. "You know, the forest is too dangerous for a soft kittypet like you."

"But look at that wound, Hawkpaw!" Flintpaw exclaimed. "He must have been fighting ShadowClan to get something like that!"

Hawkpaw narrowed his gleaming green eyes. "Why would a kittypet fight ShadowClan?" he growled suspiciously.

"Maybe he's an evil genius trying to take over," Flintpaw suggested.

"It looks fishy to me," Hawkpaw muttered.

"Leave that to RiverClan!" Flintpaw yowled.

All the while, Rocky stood silently, surveying the two forest cats. From the conversation he was hearing, they sounded like normal cats—if not slightly crazy.

"RiverClan?" Rocky spoke up. "ShadowClan?"

Hawkpaw snorted. "See, he's completely clueless!"

Flintpaw turned toward Rocky. "Don't tell me you haven't heard of the four warrior Clans!"

"He won't tell you, but it won't change the fact that he doesn't know," Hawkpaw muttered, loud enough for all of them to hear.

"We are from ThunderClan, and we're training to be warriors." Flintpaw explained. "The other three Clans always try to steal our prey, so as warriors, we defend what's rightfully ours!" Flintpaw paused to spit at the ground. "It's honestly the best job in the world!"

Hawkpaw pricked his ears. "Flintpaw, it's Redstar and Snowheart!" He turned toward Rocky. "You'd better get out of here, kitty."

"They won't be happy to find you on our territory!" Flintpaw hissed in warning.

"Or find us happily chatting with an intruder!" Hawkpaw hissed. He gave Rocky a sharp nudge. "Get out of here!"

Rocky opened his jaws to ask another question, but clinked them shut at Hawkpaw's threatening glare. He whipped around, and dashed three tail lengths away before a loud yowl split the air.

"Stop!"