So this is the semi-prequel to Falling Stars Don't Scream. It tells the full story of Samhain's rebellion and the start of the ending of the Age and then meshes up with FSDS. When it does mesh up with FSDS, some of the events in the story will be independant of the original story. This will be formatted in the same way as FSDS, with explainations about any foreign concepts that need to be known. I highly recomend reading both stories.
Disclaimer- I own nothing you recognize.
The world outside the windows was a world unknown to Missy. It was strange and unfamiliar, often showing harshness to any being outside the comfort of a shelter. Rain, snow, sleet, hail...dogs, wildcats, hawks. Full of dangerous things. She couldn't imagine a life out there.
She'd been born into the world of a pampered pedigree housecat. She was a purebred auburn and white Turkish Van, spectacularly fluffy, with blue eyes standing out against the fiery markings that ended above him. She took pride in her bloodline, as any showcat should, making sure she was always well-groomed. She had less experience than her elder sisters, but still carried herself with a high strung walk.
Missy stretched each limb luxuriously as she emerged into the family room, laying eyes on her sisters and dipping her head in a brief greeting. The two queens returned the gesture and returned to their lounging. "You shouldn't even think about going outside today," Molly, another auburn and white, warned with a lick to her paw.
"Why?" Missy asked slowly. None of them usually went outside, even on nice days, in fear of getting a few points shaved off their next scoring.
"The wildcats have been around again," Maggie answered, setting about her cream and white fur. "The forest cats." She wrinkled her nose in disdain as she practically spat out the words. Missy looked between the two curiously.
She knew about the forest cats. Warriors bred for battle, sleek with muscle and power. The West Forest warriors were the nicest, always trying to uphold the peace, but known to be the most skilled. The Southern were the worst, not for battle but for attacking, thin and ragged from lack of prey but certainly not short in power. Most would leave tribe-less and non-warrior cats alone. She also knew that there had been a fair number of attacks in the past to innocents.
Missy shivered momentarily, trying to get all thoughts of wildcats out of her mind. There were more important things at hand, like her showing next week. Good things....
"I swear I say one the other day," Molly commented. "A queen, I think, Quite beautiful, I believe she was a blue-cream American Shorthair."
"Blue-cream, really?" Maggie returned with an interested glance. "I haven't seen one of those in ages."
"Her eyes, they were the most perfect shade of yellow, like sunshine," she continued. "She looked right at me."
"Oh? What did you do?"
"What do you think I did?" She gave her mane a luxurious toss, not really giving an answer. "I know she was jealous."
"Who wouldn't be?" Maggie gave her chestfur a proud lick. "We are, after all, the most beautiful cats in the neighborhood. Way better than that snotty nosed Persian." The two older Vans gave each other an admiring look.
"Don't worry, sister," Molly comforted, leaping down from her perch on the couch. "You're positively gorgeous, too." She rubbed her cheek against the kit's and slinked off. Missy watched her disappear into the bedroom before looking back at Maggie. The other queen smiled.
"Don't worry," she meowed with a flick of one cream ear. "The wildcats aren't going to bother you and you're going to get a good score on your showing."
She hoped so.
