"Prologue"

Stiff and scowling, the lithe black feline has posed himself out front a sea of reeds.

His unruly feather-soft pelt has bristled to fear and fury, raw emotion burning in his radiantly glowing blue eyes. The white dash on his chest remains unseen by the darkness, the moonlight casting shadows somewhere further off to the left.

"Show yourself, coward!" he growls, a mixture of kitten squeaky and warrior gruff.

The reeds part in a series of fluid motions, revealing a thick furred, orange tabby female of his kin.

"For someone who's supposedly keen on healing cats, you've certainly got a chip on your shoulder, hmm?" she mews, tone lighthearted and airy. Her pawsteps carry her body closer and to her relief, the tinier cat relaxes marginally.

"Russetburr," he identifies her by her childish timbre and unmistakable coat colour. Before her death, she was memorialized as one of RiverClan's greatest medicine cats. Her actions had been revolutionary and had brought the Clan to victory in remarkable ways.

Featherpaw could recall the stories.

"I must apologize," he adds, dipping his head in the presence of the legend. "I did not realize it was you in the rushes. I was led to the presumption it was someone meaning myself harm."

"You have much to learn, young one," Russetburr explains with an underlying purr. "And I don't just mean your social skills."

The black tom feels himself flush in embarrassment, his eyes lowering. "Why have you come to me tonight?" he asks instead of acknowledging his tendencies to using bitter words in the company of his clanmates.

Russetburr looms closer, guiding Featherpaw away from the reed bed and across the short trimmed grass to a barren structure that leaves a roaring in the young apprentice's ears. In front of their paws is the edge of the ground where the massive gorge separates the Clan of the River and the Clan of the Wind.

A fallen tree resides as a connector between the two different lands.

"A prophecy?" Featherpaw turns to the legend, his ears perked inquisitively. He watches with faint disappointment as Russetburr shakes her head.

"More of an omen," she purrs instead. "Look closer. What do you see?" She crouches down beside him, her thick fluffy pelt tickling his thinner coat.

Featherpaw squints. His features contort into deep concentration as be begins to analyze what lies in front of his vision. Staring longer than expected, the black tom observes several noteworthy examples of the supposed omen. "An oak tree," he meows quietly. "A brown oak tree that makes a bridge. A bridge between WindClan and RiverClan." Hesitantly, his bright blue eyes open back to their neutral round shape as he asks;

"Are RiverClan and WindClan meant to connect into one Clan? Are we supposed to share territory? Become allies?"

Russetburr chuckles deep in her chest, highly amused by the questions. "No, young one. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Look at those nuts there -" her bushy tail points toward a pair of nuts - one stark pale, the other a darker, ruddy hue - and how the pale one lays on the ground undisturbed. The second, however, clings to the toppled oak, desperately hanging on for dear life so as to not fall in the rushing torrent below. "- one has split from its origin. The other associates itself with the tree. The tree and that nut are connected."

"I don't understand."

"The nut and the tree are not a part of who we are!" Russetburr suddenly hisses, fury alight in her hollowed amber gaze. "Look at where the tree has fallen! The oak betrays us and has fallen to the enemy! The oak has birthed two nuts - only one of which has originated from our side!"

"The second one was created after the tree fell?"

Russetburr nods and allows her medicinal kin connect the dots.

"A fallen oak. . . Oakfrost?" His head lifts, confusion marring his face. Russetburr remains unreadable so Featherpaw continues to think. "She was a queen. . .but she only had one son. . ." He trailes off in uncertainty as the ginger she-cat gives him a dubious look. "No," he corrects himself. "She had another kit. Five moons later. You don't mean. . ?"

"Before your time, a RiverClan cat named Oakfrost gave birth to a solitary kit," Russetburr's voice booms, almost as if she were delivering a prophecy.

"Nutfur," Featherpaw's voice has gone quiet, speaking the name to himself for clarification.

"A moon prior, that kit's father died and Oakfrost fell into depression. She spent a lot of time collecting her thoughts near the gorge. Five moons later, she gave birth to another kit."

"Brownpaw," the black furred apprentice murmurs again, eyes shaping like the moon as a dawn of realization creeps down his spine. He jolts and yells;

"Oakfrost took on a WindClan mate!"

Russetburr nods, her anger sated. "In her lonely, heartbroken state, she fell head over heels for a WindClan warrior and disgraced the name of RiverClan. She used that very oak bridge to cross and meet with him. After the kit's birth, moons later, she caught a case of greencough and died in her sleep."

"I recall," Featherpaw remembers the time back in the nursery a few moons after when an ill queen had taken refuge in the medicine den. She had never emerged since that night.

"So I say again," Russetburr clears her throat. "Oakfrost disgraced the name of RiverClan. Flouncing with the enemy is just as heinous as the maggot spawn the forbidden relationship produced."

"Half-Clan," Featherpaw curls his lip at the title, knowing the implications. It's a disgusting name - fit for the disgusting offspring. Only a cat so low would ever dream of dishonor. It brought shame and blame to the family and the Clan as a whole. They were mocked and ridiculed as a result of their genetics. Half-Clanners were outer-family bred worms who held no suitable place in Clan society.

There was a rule in the code to prevent such monstrosities from happening in the first place.

"What can I do about it?" With a growl, his eyes narrow and harden akin to ice chips. "Oakfrost and both of her mates are all dead, I presume."

"Nothing violent if that's what you're implying," the fluffy female snorts. "You'll represent our kind with class, thank you very much. Medicine cats do not shed blood upon their clanmates."

Featherpaw blinks. "Then how am I supposed to do anything about the scourge in our Clan?"

"Half-Clanners are indeed a scourge," Russetburr ignores his question at first. "But StarClan has their ways. I have discussed this with many cats and we have decided to put it to a test. Particularly, in this situation, we have reached the conclusion for a fight to death."

"Death?" Featherpaw sounds shocked.

"But of course," Russetburr chimes, her voice now like a shrill bell. "Your job - your duty as a medicine cat - is to speak with the accused and inform them that it is StarClan's will for a death. Both will fight and one shall die. The victor decides the fate of the Clans. Half-Clanners are abominations. However, if the tainted manages to win, they prove us and the code wrong. No longer will they be glared down upon with righteous fury and blame. This is not just a battle of win or lose - this is a battle for the fate of the Clans."

The black tom blinks slowly. "What of the victor if he is pure blooded?"

"Life goes on and the code remains unchanged. Half-Clan fiends remain the taints in society and pure bloods will reign with power in their souls. StarClan will see to that." Russetburr smiles at the young medicine cat's hesitation. "It's their destiny, young one. Life and death is a careful balance. We're only correcting the scale."

His head low, Featherpaw weighs his options over the course of what has been said.

StarClan demands death.

StarClan demands balance.

It is not murder.

It is StarClan's will.

"As my duty as role of medicine cat, I will carry out StarClan's will. One of the brothers will die and appease you. I promise."

A/N:

So, yeah. This is where it's going. Yup.

Alright, yes, I know many of you voted for either a continuation, next generation of sorts, for Their Journey. Yes, I still have ideas for that. And for those who argued I should finish A River Divided? Yes, that will come around eventually. Come on, you guys know how long TJ took to complete. Over a year. I'll get RD up and running soon enough.

But for now, I've had this little idea lodged in my head for quite a while. I've actually been jumping ahead and pre-writing some chapters so you hopefully won't have to wait as long while we get this show on the road.

QotC ( for all you uncultured swine out there, that means 'question of the chapter' :3 ) : What do you like so far? I know I don't have much for you to go on, but what are your immediate thoughts? Any ideas as to where the story might go?

I'll try to answer your comments and have my response in the following chapter. Go nuts!

- Snarky