I'm so glad you are reading this story! My name is Ember, and enjoy my fanfiction.

Characters Are Made By Myself, And The Idea Comes From Erin Hunter's Warrior Cats.

Enjoy!(~)

Kits tousled eachother, boring down eagerly on a frail, elderly calico she-cat. The kits shoved eachother to be in front, yearning for the elder's tale.

The elder tipped her head in amusement, her eyes sparkling. She gazed around at the kits and cleared her throat. "'F we are all settled in." She rasped.

The kits stopped in their tracks, lifting their eyes and listening intently.

The she-cat started her long-told tale.

"Every-cat wonders what happens after we are long-forgotten in StarClan. Every cat has their own opinion. Two of the named opinions are simplistic, like how some cats believe that after StarClan our soul is transfered into another outer-shell, or body. They believe when we are forgotten, we are reincarnated.

"Some beleive that our soul fades. Those that believe that our soul is run on faith, and remembrance, and memories. To them, when all of those are lost, we are lost. Our soul dissapears into eternal darkness. When you are forgotten, it is impossible for a cat to have faith in you. It is impossible for them to honor you.

"Some, like myself, beleive there is life after StarClan. And where you end up in the after-after life, that the story I tell right now is about life, it depends on your Blood-line and choices. In the after-after life, or what most cats call, décès it is much like StarClan. Yet they are very different.

"Unlike StarClan, The décès has leaders. The décès holds many, many cats. So it is impossible for one leader to take control of the amount. So they have four leaders, and they divide the amount into sections. A section for each leader. What determines what section you would be held to is determined by your choices and bloodline. I-"

A kit interupted, bouncing up from his sitting position. "But Bloodline isn't fair to judge on! What if you daddy did something bad? You can't choose what he does!" He argued.

The elder chuckled deeply. "I'm sure it's more complicated than that, little kit. Where you end up doesn't depend on the evil emnating from your parents or kin. Not even most anscestors!" She insisted, her eyes warm as she looked upon the kit.

"As I was saying, There is four leaders. There is the first one, The Voice Of Wind. She is a very beautiful she-cat who controls the demention of gravity, and she also controls the dimention of time. She is a goddess, and she looks like wind in cat-form. She has a swirly tail that always stays high, and she has a petite frame and golden, grave eyes. She is the heat in your heart.

"The second one is The Voice Of Darkness, Or The Voice Of Shadow as she is mostly called. She is a mysterious, misty-formed cat who has black flames licking at her paws and emnating from her spine and her long, bushy tail. She has scralet, glowing eyes and she is known to have a holly berry at her right ear. Many take her as evil, but she is not. She is a beuatiful goddess who is mis-understood because of appearance. With her, is the section I wish to go into. She is the controler of the dimenshion of winter, and she controls goodness and thrives upon it.

"The third goddess is The Voice Of Water. She is majestic, and can be sometimes cruel to those who do not obey one of the goddess's will. She is mostly transparent, like true water, and her fur flows around her body, as if she is eld together by the flowing of the water. Her tail is large and seen to be bushy, and flowing water runs until the tip. You would not be able to see her eyes with your own. The Voice Of Water is controler of growth, and sequence, and direction.

"The fourth and last one, is the Voice Of Lightning. She thrives off of loyalty, and trust. She looks like she is made of tightly bound tree roots, with gaping holes in between the ledges of where no roots touched, the gaps emnate a green glow. She could stay perfectly still - and she would look like she was not a cat-spirit. She would look like the actual roots of a tree. But she is unpredictably fast, with mighty skill and strong limbs."

The she-cat rasped on, her eyes brightening as she told the story.

"In the décès, there is also a place where the bad cats go when they fade from the Dark Forest. If they have changed from their time there, accepting the rules of the world and oing no farm to the living, or mocking the living, they will be accepted into one of the regions. If not, they will go to a Hell-bright place with fire spurting from jagged ends in an endless cave, and fire engulfing the roof. You can feel pain there, and the pain will go on eternally. This, we call the Haine. You will stay here forever, never leaving, and never being transfered to a region, no matter how much you beg or plead or show mercy. You can never go back on a choice. You will accept beating given to you by Redouté.

"Redouté is a wisty red cat, with flames spurting from his large, crimson paws, the color of blood. His eyes are the deepest red, with a haunted, emotionless expression. He was born blind and deaf, and when he was young he was tortured for that.

"He cannot speak, either. Like the torture I was meowing of, his vocal cords where.. And I warn you, you younger ones should cover your ears until you see the twitch of my tail fall between my ears."

She paused, letting a few squealing kits quickley block their ears with their small paws, scuffling to the ground to enhance the desperation to not hear what the old she-cat rasped next. Three kits, two she-kits and one tom-kit, pressed their ears to the floor and let themselves peer up, awaiting the signal to uncover their ears.

The she-cat twitched her ears sympatheticly and continued her long-told tale.

"Okay. Now that we have that covered..." She trailed off, as if trying to remember what she was talking about.

"Oh yes! Okay. Redouté, when he was young, got his vocal cords ripped from him. His mother did it herself, as payback for being unhealthy and driving his father away, who saw that the she-cat gave birth to one, unhealthy kit. His father gave one, hard blow at his son before fleeing.

"His mother also took her son, held him by the throat as a young, young kit, and smashed him against a tree. Multiple times. Crippled, the young crimson kit lay on the ground, crying out in pain. He died seasons later, as a young, scarred tom."

The she-cat flicked her tail up to her head, and let it fall like a leaf on top of her head. Breathing a high-pitched sound of releif, all three kits let their paws fall beside them and their ears perk. They didn't pick themselves up from the ground, too comfortable to move a muscle.

The she-cat smiled, delighted they where still willing to listen to their story.

"Well, Redouté is not a bad cat. But after he died as a young tom, his eyes still carried the haunted, miserable, possesed expression in his deep, rag-laced eyes. Poor thing. When he died, and faded from his anscestors that sent him through hell, the goddesses debated feircly whether he should be sent to a place where his soul would dissapear, because his deeds he did where to ferocious to be sent into a region, or he should be sent into a region.

"Then a cat with a pure-light soul stepped into range, suggesting he should make a fire-encasped area, where cats who did worse deeds where it was not neccesary, was sent. Every goddess agreed. Redouté agreed grimly."

The elder took a deep breath, cut off from a kit bouncing from his position.

"Why are all the region leaders she-cats?' He asked curiously.

The she-cat answered thoughtfully. "They are she-cats because it is beleived that she-cats are source of wisdom, and thinking. Toms are resourceful for brutal strength and protection. Strength is not needed at all in the décès. No one fights, and no one loses." She explained.

The tom-kits listening in the group snorted ungraciously, and the she-kits exchanging glances at eachother wonderingly and proud.

The she-cat purred. "There is also Esprit, the angel-spirit who visits only once and a while. She is a dark spirit, with hints of a tainted soul. She is known as the 'Keeper Of Suel' Or the 'Keeper Of Lone'. She is a misty-pawed cat who has no pelt. What you can see of her is a pure black mist. No eyes, no mouth, no way of speaking. She is the one who helps reincarnate other cats who feel the need, and she is actually reincarnated herself once and a while. She always reincarnates for a purpose. To send a message, protect one's fate, anything that the goddess's feel need to be done. Esprit lives a lonley, painful, miserable life acting in the lives of broken ones. She tries her best to send the message carefully. But when you reincarnate, you forget everything in your past life and your spiritual life. It is very rare"

She emphasized the 'very' with her face abruptly facing the kits. "For the legendary cat to come back to life. It is told that she only comes back every trillons of years. It is also told that Esprit hasn't once been yet reincarnated. But she will. And when she does, she will be unrecognzable when she dies." The she-cat finished her meowing with a deep sweep of her tail, touching every kit.

"That is all I have to tell of this tale. Any questions?"


The elderly she-cat kept her focus on the group presented infront of her, and didn't seem to notice a lone kit veered from the group. She seemed dailfully unintersted, but no one noticed her ears perked, listening intently to the elder's story.

When the tale was done, the kit stopped listening. The dark grey tabby she-kit heaved to her paws and padded away, once more miserable.

Now, hmm, what do you think the story will be about? I can't wait for you to meet this miserable 'kit in the next chapter. Terribly sorry for any misspellings you may come across. I'm not very big in searching out typos.
Will update soon, maybe. Finally I can resume with my animating...