Prologue – Tallstar's POV
We are Windclan. We are the descendants of the great cats, of the kings and queens of the forest: leopards, lions, tigers. We are named after one of the great founders of the clans. Named after air itself: the breath of life. And yet, we have been defeated.
I should have seen it coming. They have been encroaching on our territory for moons now, tearing off our homeland fiber by fiber. Their sent markers have crept further and further into our territory. They proudly parade along our borders, their eyes glinting maliciously. Brokenstar, you call yourself the soon-to-be ruler of the clans. You will be the end of the clans.
They came at midnight. The moon was just a sliver of a claw hanging in the sky, so our camp was cloaked in darkness. Shadowclan. I was sound asleep in the clearing at the time, along with my fellow clan mates. Where was the guard, you ask? Silenced. We found him lying in a pool of his own blood. A deep, crimson gash snaked up his throat. I am sorry Littlemouse, you will be remembered.
It all happened so fast. In a flurry of terror, mothers claimed their kits, apprentices woke up, and warriors towered defensively over their clan mates. Barkface even managed to grab a mouthful of herbs out of the medicine cat den without them noticing. We left obediently after that. My cats were injured, and matted with blood from previous fights. I couldn't bare to lose any more cats.
I looked back, perhaps I shouldn't have. Past where my deputy, Deadfoot was limping, I could see the invaders. Shadowclan was proudly claiming its new hunting ground. The invaders kicked dirt over the fresh kill pile. Brokenstar didn't want more land, he wanted us to wither into nothing. And now we will. Without our grasslands, we won't be able to hunt the meager, precious rabbits that sustained us. The cruel irony is, Shadowclan don't even eat rabbits.