The dim light of the full moon guided the group of cats through the night. Every cat kept silence, either in respect or in fear of being punished for breaking the code. The quiet night was only filled with the gentle ripple of the river and the occasional cricket chrip.

The leader of the group held his head high as he lead the cats through the chilly woods. He held a small bundle of brown fur in his jaw. He walked also in silence ignoring the kits soft cries. Eventually the expansive forest began to dwindle down and the cats were meet with a small clearing leading up to the river. The leader turned to look back at his clan through his icy blue eyes.

He gingerly put the kit down and looked at the cats gathered. "Let all cats gathered here today sit around the big rock so that we may began" he yowled the ceremonial call.

The cats all sat down in the lush grass without a word. Once all cats were sitted, the leader jumped onto the rock that was dangerously close to the rapid river. Once again he surveyed the cats, looking at each and every one in detail. Finally he nodded to an elderly she-cat.

The she-cat got up slowly being very gentle on her legs as if they would break off at any moment. She trotted toward the kit who was still on the ground. As she picked up the squirming kit, it let out a sickly cough. Every cat winced at the sound of its painful cough. The she-cat trotted towards her leader handing him the kit but was interrupted by a high pitch wail.

All cats jumped in shock and turned towards the source of the noise. Out from the forest came a tan she-cat. Her fur was bristled and her hunches were raised. Her emerald eye reflect seer rage and anguish.

"Stop!" She screamed as she unsheathed her claws. With all of her energy the small she-cat jumped at her leader but was immediately taken down by two bigger toms, who were sitting in the front row.

The leader stared down at her in anger. How dare she intrude on the sacred tradition! His own fur began to bristle as he watched the she-cat struggle under the tom's grasp. He suddenly felt a tail touch his shoulder in comfort. He looked to see the elderly she-cat next to him. He was shocked, he didn't even see her climb on to the rock. She gently put the kit on the rock and wrapped her tail around it protectively.

"Don't hold her responsible, Bonestar" the elderly cat told him "she's a grieving mother. The bond between her mind and heart has disappeared".

Her reasoning calmed him down a bit, then he turned to the wise elderly "Could you try to reason with Cloudheart?"

"I could try" she repeated and turned to the she-cat sprawled across the grass, panting.

"Couldheart, please think about what's best for your clan, for dark forest, for your son. He'd never be able to live in peace" she began " He'll grow up sick and slowly die. You don't want do you?"

Cloudheart stared at the ground, still panting. Though Bonestar couldn't see her face he know he was considering the elder's word carefully. But it didn't matter, once the toms released her she once again launched at the rock. Only to be shoved back to the ground.

Bonestar sighed and picked up the little brown kit. Might as well get the ceremony over with.

"Dark forest I present you with Duskclan's sacrifice for our loss at Red Moon." Bonestar boomed through a mouthful of fur. He flung the little kit to the rushing river below. He squeaked as the freezing water touched his fur.

The kit struggled against the current but his little head quickly went under. Soon he could no longer be seen by any cat and the whole clearing was dead silent.

Expect Cloudheart, who let out a wail of grief.