This story is adopted from Kira-QueenOfDarkness

Prologue

"Sunfeather! It's been a while."

"How are you doing, Toadfang?"

"Frostfall, it's nice to see you again."

Cats mingled and chatted with each other at the Gathering. Elders shared tongues, and new apprentices practiced pouncing on each other. Warriors said their "how do you do"'s and "hello"'s, and everyone seemed to know each other like they were family. Why not? It was greenleaf, and the clans were relaxed and comfortable.

I was talking with some of my friends too, the ones from ThunderClan and WindClan, at least until the leaders started talking. Then everyone was silent, except for the occasional sneeze from that apprentice from ShadowClan who always seems to have a cold.

Lightstar, the leader of WindClan, went first. Yada yada yada, boring stuff, rabbits getting poisoned by those dumb twolegs. Nothing that interesting.

The RiverClan warrior next to me apparently thought so too, because he leaned over to me and whispered, "When's Lightstar going to finish?" His name was Wildtail, and I'd known him my whole life. I should, considering that I'm from his clan and that he's my older brother. He had always been a rather impatient tom, snapping at others to hurry up and move on. It was no surprise that he was getting annoyed with the slow-moving ancient WindClan leader.

I shrugged. "Dunno," I whispered back.

Wildtail sighed and lashed the scruffy, ragged dappled gray tail that he had been named for. His brilliant emerald-green eyes narrowed, and he twisted the off-white fur of his muzzle into an scowl. "This is so boring, Cloudfang," he whined.

I purred. I couldn't help it; Wildtail just seemed so ridiculous, with pouty, shiny eyes that begged for the Gathering to be over, laid-back ears, spiked creamy fur, and his muzzle forming a part-snarl, part-grimace. You would've thought that he had been taken by an enemy clan and was being tortured for information or something instead of attending a friendly social event.

I poked him in the side. "Aw, it's not that bad Wildtail," I said. Wildtail glared at me. "Yeah, right."

"Will you two be quiet back there?"

I jumped. The cat sitting right in front of me, Grassclaw of ThunderClan, had twisted her sleek dark body toward us. She looked rather annoyed, and her ears were back, flat and slick against her smooth, small head. "I can't even hear Lightstar speak! Other cats matter beside you fat RiverClan fish, you know."

"Oops." I gave a nervous, wavering purr that was quickly cut off as Grassclaw let out a low, rumbling growl, surprisingly loud from someone so petite. "Sorry!"

Wildtail only rolled his eyes and said, "We weren't being that loud."

Grassclaw, the snobby she-cat, only lifted her head up, gave a little sniff, and turned back to the leaders. I glared at the back of her head, wishing that I could burn holes in them. My pelt was still hot with embarrassment, since all the cats around us had heard her reprimand us.

"She treated us like kits!" hissed Wildtail. I nodded, and dug my claws into the ground.

Finally, Lightstar finished his slow, dreary report, ending with the death of a sickly kit. Then Goosestar of RiverClan went, talking about two new warriors, Dewfall and Volewhisker, the said warriors puffing up their chests with pride. And then when he concluded with saying that the fish were fat and plentiful, next stepped up Petalstar of ShadowClan, a petite leader with a fiery temper and a fierce loyalty for her clan, before Lionstar of ThunderClan came up, going on and on about some medicine cat who had retired to the elder's den.

When the Gathering was finally over, the leaders leapt down from the Great Oak onto the ground. Goosestar called out, "RiverClan! We're heading home," and my clan followed him.

Except for me. I really needed to make dirt, so I slunk away, jumping into a clump of leafy bushes.

I was done and ready to head to the bridge when I heard a dreadful, terrified yowl, filled with fear and pain and hurt. It seemed to go on and on, filling the island with the mournful sound. I gasped, and bushed my fur up, wide-eyed and rooted to the spot.

The yowl was cut off abruptly, like a mouse's final squeaks of fear before I, the hunter, snapped its neck with a single, quick bite. The only difference: A mouse benefits my clan. Somecat screaming their head off does not.

"What's happened!" I could make out Petalstar's loud voice, filled with authority yet laced with fear.

"W-who was that?" squeaked someone else, before adding, "If you're not a clan cat, you better leave this place!" The nervous, fluttery voice and the stuttering combined with the pathetic attempt at false bravado led me to believe that it was one of our newest warriors, Volewhisker. He had always been a boaster, a she-cat's tom, and a little bit full of himself.

I poked my head out of the bushes and saw that almost everyone was past the tree-bridge. No one was moving, though. All their pelts were bristling, and flat ears and unsheathed claws were visible on all of them.

I noticed that Goosestar was missing. The mystery of where he was, however, was solved when he emerged from the shadows, from where the cry had come from.

He was dragging something along in his mouth. As he got closer and closer, I realized that it was a cat.

Goosestar put the body down, and turned to face the crowd at the tree-bridge. I didn't hear what he was saying however, because I was too captured by the body of the cat, too absorbed in its appearance.

A ragged dark gray tail had made a small trail in the pebbly shore from where its body had been found. Milky, creamy fur glowed in the moonlight. Green eyes were wide open, stretched in a look of absolute horror. An ugly red slash in the throat of the cat still bled, and drops of blood marked its path. Pearly white teeth glinted in the night, and suddenly, I found myself running toward the cat.

Toward Wildtail.

"No!" I screeched. "No!" Goosestar whirled around, shouting something at me, but I ignored him and raced to my older brother.

Up close, his features were terrifying. The scowling, impatient look he always wore had been replaced with an expression of fear and pain. Long claws showed from beneath his bloodstained, matted fur. The claws were tipped with still-drying blood.

"No," I whispered, and sank to the ground, my pads pressing against Wildtail's claws, squeezing them, hoping desperately that he would wake up.

I guess I must've fainted or something, because the next thing I knew, the world was spinning and everything became dark, and the last thing I could truly tell was real and not my imagination was slipping on the wet, sandy, rocky shore, letting the jagged stones that had broken from seasons of being smashed about in the water tear into my flesh, and my pelt brushing against Wildtail's cold, still fur.