Hello! So, I'm doing a warriors/Hunger Games crossover, and I have the prologue right here! People can submit cats, just check my profile! And if you do submit a cat (which I'm really hoping you do), don't put the form in a review! Send the completed form to me by PM! Any cats left in a review will not be accepted or looked at!
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE HUNGER GAMES OR WARRIORS OR ANY OF THEIR IDEAS. KAPEESH? GOOD!
"So…Tendrilwhisker," a dark brown she-cat with long fur sits with her tail curled tightly around her paws.
"What is it, Brownfeather? You want your kits to be entertained?" a dark tabby she-cat with a graying muzzle asks.
"Well….kind of," Brownfeather, the dark she-cat, replies. "I need to ask you a favor."
"A favor?" Tendrilwhisker, the tabby, looks startled. "What kind of favor?"
"I'm not sure if Flightkit, Sleetkit, and Silverkit know what the Hunger Games are! I need you to explain them to my kits! They'll listen to you more; you're an elder! And besides, it should be easier for you." Brownfeather explains quickly.
Tendrilwhisker narrows her eyes. "How do you know they have no clue of the Hunger Games?"
"Today they asked about…about…Twigpaw. Oh Tendrilwhisker, he was so close to being a warrior!" Brownfeather wails.
"I can understand why they would ask about your son leaving and never returning. I'll tell them, it'll spare you the pain and trouble of remembering last year's Games. Starclan knows you've been grieving long enough," Tendrilwhisker muttered, a slightly annoyed look in her eyes. "Even if you did lose your son, you still need to support Skyclan. Go hunting; actually pretend you have a life outside of your kits. Just go and I'll tell them!" she spits. Brownfeather nods quickly with a surprised look on her face and dashes off to the nursery. Moments later, three kits bound into the elders' den.
"Tendrilwhisker!" they chorus and leap on top of her. She lets out a mrrow of laughter.
"Okay kits, get off. I have something to tell you," the kits immediately scramble off and sit in a neat row.
"Is it another story?" one asks, her eyes stretched wide.
"Kind of. It's a scary one, though. And very real,"
"Flightkit's favorite!" another kit pipes up, glancing at the kit that had just spoken.
"Yes. Now, long ago, cats lived in perfect harmony, in the exact same clans as we have today. However, evil cats whom had done wrong attacked. They were from the Dark Forrest, a place where you go if Starclan does not accept you because of your wrongdoings. Now, the Dark Forest attacked—"
"Why?" the kit that first spoke questioned.
"Flightkit! Stop interrupting the story!" a kit with light grey fur scolded.
"That's a story for another time, Flightkit. Anyways, they attacked and the six clans were outnumbered. The Dark Forest could have killed every cat easily. However, if they did kill every cat that wasn't on their side, they wouldn't have anything to do. No fighting, no rivalries, nothing. So they decided to let the cats live as they always have on one condition. Once every four seasons, two toms and two she-cats from each clan would be selected." The kits looked at the elder with wide eyes.
"How did the selection work?" a silver tom-kit asks.
"Each clan member who was not a kit, elder, or a leader, had their names etched onto a piece of bark. They would all be in two piles, one with toms' names and one with she-cats' names, and a Dark Forrest cat picks a name from each pile. The cats that had their name picked would leave the clans. You could have your name put in additional times in return for loads of prey and medicine during leaf-bare"
"Those cats would later be sent to another area, far from the clans. Then they would fight." Tendrilwhisker continues.
"For how long?" Flightkit asked.
"Until only one remained alive," Tendrilwhisker responded with a sorrowful look in her eyes. The three kits shrunk back.
"The one cat who lived could return to their clan. Their name would never be selected again. Their clan got extra medicine and prey for one leaf-bare. The clans go on as they always have, but with this one change. This ritual still goes on today. That's why Twigpaw isn't here. He was chosen and died in the cruel Games."
"Really? I DON'T WANT TO BE CHOSEN!" the silver kit wails.
"And it's likely that you won't be when you're an apprentice. We have so many clan-members, so I wouldn't worry about it. The clans have grown since before the battle, making it very unlikely that your name would be picked. Your mother wanted me to tell you this. Now run along, and don't worry about it. You're still four moons old; you don't have to worry about the dreadful day yet. The selection is in two sunrises, after all," Tendrilwhisker meows. The kits, stunned, rush off into the Skyclan camp. Guilt washed over the elderly she-cat. What they don't know is that I was a contender in these Games, and I won. She thinks as she makes her way out of the den for some sunlight.
How'd you like it? It's my first time writing in third-person, so it may be a little strange sounding. Don't forget to submit cats so they can be in my story! The form is on my profile! I will continue with the Reaping on this same story once I have all of my cats, but I need your help! PLEASE LOOK AT MY PROFILE AND SUBMIT BY PM, NO CATS IN A REVIEW WILL BE ACCEPTED!