Wind whipped through the trees, causing the few remaining leaves they had to rustle in the night. Cold moonlight shone down onto the floor of a large clearing where a huge amount of cats currently stood, their fur fluffed up against the chill of leaf-fall, their eyes shining in the pale moonlight. They greeted each other with mews and friendly nuzzles, all enmity forgotten as the moon shone above their heads. Five cats were standing atop a huge boulder in the center of the clearing. These five were talking quietly, their backs turned to the cats on the ground below them.

After a little while, one of them let out a loud caterwaul to quell the discussion. "Let the Gathering begin," spoke the cat. "Sootstar, would you care to begin?"

A gray tabby tom stepped forward, his muscles moving smoothly under his thin pelt. "WindClan is thriving," he began. "Despite the fact that it's leaf-bare, we are finding enough prey to feed all of us."

"Prey? That would be a good thing."

The unfamiliar voice rang out through the clearing, and the cats on the ground looked around in confusion for the speaker. Bushes rustled at the top of the slope, and before long a tabby tom had stepped into the moonlight.

More strange cats followed behind him, their claws flashing in the light. There was a faint, distasteful growling coming from the Clan cats as they looked at intruders. These were not allies.

The five Clan leaders jumped from the rock and stood there as the tabby approached. A space was cleared for them by all of the other cats. A few of the leaders were standing so close together that their pelts were brushing. All five were glaring with undisguised hostility at the tabby, although he seemed unfettered by the hatred the others were feeling toward him. He began to speak.

"My name is Slash," he explained. "My cats come from the territory beyond the highlands, where the roars of monsters ring in our ears all day and night. We have known of your presence for a while, and now we have decided to act. We are claiming your land. You have three days to leave. If you choose to stay, we will fight you, and we will win. Your territories belong to me now. This forest belongs to Slash."

An enraged yowling broke out behind the Clan leaders at these words, with many of the cats behind them thrusting themselves forward to stand beside their leaders. The cats behind the tabby - Slash, he had said his name was - made no move of any sort. They simply stood there, their eyes flashing and their claws flexing over the frosted grass. There was even a hint of amusement on the faces of some as they watched the enraged Clan cats.

"Leave?" One cry sounded out above all the rest. It was the WindClan leader, Sootstar. "Leave? How can you suggest such a thing? We've lived here all our lives. You come here without warning and suggest we leave just so you can have a little more territory?"

Several of the cats behind Slash hissed in anger, but the gray tom did not halt his speech. "You had a territory of your own, far beyond the forest. It was a place where you were able to live for many moons! Why would you rather have ours?"

Slash turned and gazed at his cats. Despite the muscles bulging under their pelts, they were thin and half-starved. Even the scrawny WindClan cats were more well-fed than Slash's cats.

"We need more," Slash growled simply. "The ranks of my cats are growing rapidly. Soon the rats of the Thunderpaths will no longer be able to sustain every cat. You have all the prey in the forest at your disposal, and you're not deserving of it. We hereby claim it for ourselves."

"What do you mean, we're not deserving?" hissed another one of the leaders, a powerful golden she-cat, as more yowls of outrage rose up around them. "We are Clan cats. We follow the warrior code and we believe in StarClan. We are much more deserving of any territory than lowlife like yourselves."

"No," Slash replied. "You do not know what it means to live life as a wild cat. You depend on the skills of your Clanmates for survival. We do not. We hunt and fight for ourselves. We are tougher and stronger than you, and only we have right to any territory, since only we know what it means to be a wild cat. You are nothing."

"That's not true," the she-cat hissed, anger visible in her bristling fur and her unsheathed claws. "We are the Clans. We follow the warrior code, and we trust in StarClan, something you do not. We are above all other cats in this world. We live in the wild, a luxury which kittypets are too stupid to agree with. We live together, companionship being something which rogues and loners lack. We train our kits in the ways of hunting and fighting. Our cats are stronger and faster than yours. You have no right to any territory."

Slash snorted. "You think that because you agree not to kill each other, and because you all think that the spirits of your dead friends exist in the sky, you are superior?" His gaze was filled with disbelief. "I bet none of you have any experience with killing cats! We could slice you open as easily as we would a mouse." He flicked his claws, as if slicing them down the side of an imaginary enemy. "You are weak. You do not understand what fighting for survival means."

"We fight the other Clans when they steal our prey. We fight so that we may feed our members. How is that not fighting for survival?" growled Sootstar.

"Yours is not an individual effort. One of your cats could have lost all four of his paws and you'd still feed him. How is that fighting for survival?" Slash asked coolly.

"You wouldn't feed a cat who'd lost his paws," the golden she-cat spat back. "We show compassion, an emotion of which you aren't capable."

"You're right," Slash answered emotionlessly. "We don't show compassion. And that will be your downfall when we fight."

The golden she-cat hissed in exasperation. "Fine. Fine. We will fight for it. We will all fight. You will never take over our territory. StarClan will be on our side. They won't let us be driven out." The cats behind her yowled in approval.

"So you'd rather place your trust into the paws of imaginary spirits than in your own power? You will definitely lose. We outnumber you. We are far stronger. My cats will rule the forest. You have three days to leave before we fight you and kill every last one of your cats." Slash turned away, and with a flick of his tail the other cats followed, leaving Fourtrees and heading back to their own territory. At the top of the slope, just before he vanished into the bushes, he turned back to the cats.

"And when your Clanmates lie there dying, their last thoughts will be of hatred for you for sacrificing them to try and save your precious territories rather than thinking in the best interests of your cats. Good night, Clan cats. This will be the last battle you'll ever see."

And with that, he turned, leaving the stunned Clan cats standing in the clearing, their Gathering broken by the arrival of Slash's cats.

Above them, the full moon shone endlessly.