Prologue
Snare, a small gray she-cat, sat tensed at the bottom of the well-worn oak tree. She knew what was coming, all the cats of the clans did, but she didn't want to accept it.
Every twelve moons, six cats from each of the clans were chosen by an elderly cat called Figstern. The twenty four cats who were chosen were sent out for a quarter-moon to train, then they were released into some remote place to fight to the death. This was all to prove which clan was strongest.
The time had come, and every cat dreaded it.
The moon had risen to its height. Figstern was wearily hobbling over to take his place in the tree. Cats shifted uneasily, Snare unsheathed her claws, digging them into the dirt, hoping she would find some sense of security.
Each cat was desperately longing for something. Some were twitching their tales anxiously, wanting to be chosen. Most were just praying to Starclan that they could go home and be safe. Snare just wanted the whole thing to end. Not just this time, but forever. She hated the entire thing with every morsel of her dread-filled being.
Figstern jumped atop a low hanging branch, causing it to sway dismally. The silhouette of the old cat was eerie and distorted in the moonlight.
"Cats of all clans," He began, his voice was weary and droning, as if he didn't want to go through the entire process had he had done so many times before. "I know that you have all been anxiously awaiting this moment. So I will hurry my small talk and soon announce the lucky victims, ah, did I say victims? I meant, erm-" He sat fidgeting for a moment than continued,
"Well, let's start with Riverclan shall we?" Snare relaxed slightly, she was not of Riverclan blood, Figstern wouldn't be announcing Thunderclan names until later.
"Moonfur, Badgermask, Berryridge-" He continued meowing out names until the six Thunderclan cats stood in front of the oak, facing the ever-silent crowd.
The night, which was overcast by clouds seemed to darken menacingly, as if it knew what a terrible time this was for the cats, but the moon somehow remained untouched by the wispy black clouds.
Figstern dipped his head respectfully to the six cats and continued,
"The Windclan competitors are the following: Fledgling, Bloodfang, Snowwhisker, Wormpike-" When he was finished listing Windclan names he announced in his rasping meow,
"Now the Thunderclan cats are as follows:-" Snare instantly tensed, freezing and digging her claws into the ground. The scent of fear was all to evident, emanating off of each of the Thunderclan cats' pelts.
"Whisperwind, Twistmud, Snare-" Snare couldn't hear any of the other names called. Had she heard wrong? Was that really her name that Figstern had just called? Surely he had made a mistake!
She walked up to sit with the other cats in a sort of trance, the resounding voice of Figstern a barely audible noise in the back of her mind. She had been chosen. She would have to kill or be killed.
This can't be happening! She thought,
I'm walking to my death.
