The metallic drip, drip of water hitting the bare rock was the only sound that could be heard in the dimly lit cave. All of the cats inside of it stared at their leader, jaws hanging open, eyes full of questions. Then the cream-colored she-cat spoke again.
"We need their territory. We need their hunting grounds. Darla, do you want your kits to grow up with little food in a cramped cave? Melanie? Savannah? Cassie?" The four queens looked at their paws.
"We'll have the element of surprise on our side," the cream colored cat continued. "And Cinnamon has gotten us a little connection, haven't you, Cinnamon? One of the Clans' medicine cats seems to have fallen for her."
The she-cat next to her looked embarrassed, but also slightly proud of herself.
Then a spotted tom spoke up. "But won't it be risky? I mean, Cassie and Melanie can't even fight."
"I can fight just as well as any cat and you know it!" the she-cat next to him angrily growled. The tom cringed and tenderly licked the scar his mate had given him during one of her frequent blow-ups, which happened all the more often now that she was expecting his kits. "But I guess I shouldn't," the she-cat's tone softened, and she nuzzled the tom. He licked her ear.
Another tom cleared his throat. "But still, there must be hundreds of them."
"So?" the cream colored cat stared challengingly at him.
The tom swallowed. "Well, it's just that, um, there's only, like, twenty of us, and..." He trailed off. The she-cat was still staring menacingly at him. "Never mind."
"Does anyone else have something they would like to say?" She waited. The cave was silent again. She curved up her lips in what appeared to be a smile and purred.
"Well then," she said briskly. "It's settled. We're going to bring down the Clans."