1. Three rogues
There is a new prophecy born: After the peace, shadow and thunder will clash, and three birds of the moss hold the future of the four Clans.
Forest streams ran smoothly down the path, beside a circle of bushes. It was newleaf. The soft sound slowly woke the three forms from their sleep. A white, thin furred cat slowly got up and prodded her one companion. The dark-fur tabby groaned and kicked the air with a paw. His fur was dark brown like the wood of an oak, and white above his paws. Light brown streaks stood out on his back and legs.
"Come on, Falcon. It's your turn to hunt. You promised," the white cat meowed. Falcon stirred and blinked at her with amber eyes
"Did I? Well, I guess there is no escaping." Falcon stretched and yawned. "This was a great place to stay. I guess we can't just stay a bit longer, Dove?" Dove snorted.
"We stayed here too long already. We don't want the cats to find our scent and us." She padded to the other form and prodded it sharply. "Eagle, wake up. You shouldn't sleep too late." Eagle opened her eyes.
"Don't forget I was watching for intruders last night. I deserve a good rest." She said, but got up on her paws when Dove prodded her with unsheathed claws. Gentle blue eyes stared into Eagle's sharp green eyes.
"No excuses. I don't want anything to happen to you two." Eagle purred.
"We care about you, too, Dove. Gentle, caring, and fierce is what our Dove is made out of." Eagle turned to look at Falcon. "Aren't you supposed to be hunting?"
"I'm going, you bossy furballs," He laughed, and ran out of the clearing, leaving behind rustling branches. Eagle snickered and turned to give her dark-brown and white body a wash. After a while, before her sister went to collect some herbs, Eagle turned to Dove. "Why is it so terrible to be found by those clan cats?" Dove sighed.
"I really don't know. I sometimes ask myself that same question."