It was sunny, a bright, clear day in newleaf. The lake shimmered in all of its glory, and the sun reflected beautifully on the water. The Clans were going about their duties cheerfully, and patrols were to be seen happily checking their territories without a word of complaint. Every cat was breathing deeply, taking in the sounds and sights of the lake, forest, and moors.
But somewhere to the east of WindClan territory, a ragged shape was making its way towards the lake territories. And this cat's arrival would change the Clans forever.
"Onestar! Onestar!" Crowfeather yowled, racing up the slope leading to the dip in the moors that was the WindClan camp. Breezepaw, Whitetail, Heatherpaw, and Tornear raced beside him, making no sound. The patrol skidded to a halt in front of the leader's den, and waited respectfully for Onestar to emerge.
"What is it?" the small, brown tom asked, his brow furrowing in concern. Crowfeather struggled to catch his breath, and managed to get the words out. "There's a rogue— or a loner— in our territory!" he panted. Heatherpaw pushed her way to the front of the group and stood next to her mentor. "And he tried to come talk to us. He was muttering something about Twolegs," she added hastily. "He padded up to me and tried to pin me to the ground, and started hissing about Twolegs!" Heatherpaw shivered at the memory.
"I chased him away, and we began to leave, but I saw him turn around and come back," Crowfeather meowed. He had never seen a rogue do that before. What did it mean?
Onestar pursed his lips and was about to say something when Ashfoot made her way over to the group. "What's all this about?" she mewed concernedly. Crowfeather repeated what he and Heatherpaw had told Onestar, and by the time he was done, the gray-furred deputy was wearing the same worried expression as Onestar.
"What are we going to do?" mewed Breezepaw, speaking up at last.
"We need to find him. If he knows anything about Twolegs…"
"Maybe they're going to…" Whitetail trailed off, her mew fading into nothing. Every cat knew what Twolegs could do.
"I think we should keep a watch out for him," Ashfoot mewed strongly. "If he attempts anything, we should take major action. But if he doesn't, I don't think we should do anything drastic."
Onestar nodded. "Very good, Ashfoot. That is what we will do." He dismissed the patrol with a flick of his brown tail, and the cats padded away. Before moonhigh, the incident was forgotten.
Loon sat upon a huge boulder and raised his head to the moon. His blue eyes looked even bluer in the light of the white orb hanging above, and his black fur shimmered as if it was made of starlight. He opened his mouth and let loose a yowl that seemed to hang in the air forever. The moment was over, and Loon reverted to a crouched, unbalanced cat, body wracked by short spasms and shivers. His eyes wildly darted back and forth, reflecting the madness held within his sleek form.
He leapt off of the rock and dashed away. "They're following me!" he mewed, his ears flat against his head. But nothing was behind him. It was all in his head. He disappeared into a clump of trees, leaving the sweeping moorland behind.