Prologue

"Tristan, wait up!"

The kittypet Tristan's amber eyes shined softly in the darkness as he glanced over his shoulder. An awkward, tumbling shape moved toward him through the tall grass, each pawstep crunching loudly in the leaves beneath them. She puffed as she caught up, her small form crouching lower to the ground briefly as she caught her breath.

"Maybe…we should go back…" she panted.

Tristan cocked his head. "Go back?" he murmured, his voice barely audible above the whispering wind. "We can't go back, Angie. We've got to find the clans, remember?"

"They're an old myth, Tristan, a legend!" Angie's voice was pleading. She sounded close to tears. He'd never heard her like this before. "Mother just told us that story to scare us!"

Tristan touched his nose gently to his sister's. He knew, even though she didn't, that it wasn't just a story. That his mother, who said her name had once been Cherryblaze, had once been a clan cat. "Don't worry, Angie. I promise we'll get there soon."

"It doesn't exist," whimpered Angie. "I want to go home, Tristan."

"We can't go home," he muttered. There was nothing left for them there. Mother was gone, their twolegs were gone…they were alone. Abandoned.

A rustle to his left made him prick his ears. Angie pressed herself against his side. He could feel her heart pounding.

Three pairs of eyes gleamed from the shadows. Two older cats and one younger slid forth through the gently waving grass. Tristan positioned himself in front of Angie protectively.

"Who are you?" asked the younger cat, a light brown tabby, flicking her tail. "You smell funny." She wrinkled her nose.

"Stand back, Berrypaw. These are kittypets," meowed one of the older cats, a tom. Berrypaw took a step back immediately, her eyes flickering with disdain. "Oh, ew, no wonder they smell so weird."

"Get lost," the older tom snarled at Tristan. "Do you understand me? Get. Lost."

Tristan opened his mouth to hiss. His legs shook beneath him, but he stood his ground. Whimpering, Angie hid her face in his fur.

"Oakbranch, don't be cruel," said the third cat. "Look at them, the poor things. They're not doing anyone any harm."

Oakbranch took a step back, shuffling his paws. "But they're kittypets," he mumbled.

The third cat flicked him over the ear with a tail tip. "Shush, Oakbranch. That's racist and unnecessary, and you know it."

Oakbranch grumbled something inaudible.

"Come little ones, how about you come back to our camp? Our leader can check you over." The third cat padded softly toward them, ushering them with her tail. "Come now."

Slowly, Tristan stepped forward, falling behind the older cat as the three cats led the way back to camp. Angie tucked herself by his side, stumbling and tripping a bit as she tried to keep herself right next to Tristan, trying to match his stride exactly.

"This is ludicrous," Oakbranch mumbled, half to himself.

"Don't worry," said Berrystep brightly. "When I'm leader, I'll make sure we cut every kittypet who dares enter our territory to ribbons!"

Oakbranch smiled fondly. "There's my girl." He gave her a quick lick between the ears.

"Stop flirting with your apprentice," the third cat scolded.

Angie leaned up and whispered into Tristan's ear, "I'm scared. Are they gonna kill us?" Her amber eyes were wide with fear.

Tristan clenched his teeth. "Don't worry. I won't let them. I'll protect you, always." That's what his mother had told him to do when she'd carried the young Angie in from the cold outdoors. She's your sister now. Protect her with you life. And he would.

"You promise?" said Angie, her voice small and terrified.

"I promise," he replied.