At the edge of the forest, a single mouse was nibbling on a seed. Little did it know, it was about to be attacked. A ginger tom stalked towards it, his coat blending in with his sun-dappled surroundings. Once he got close enough, he crouched low to the ground. He was about to pounce when a loud rattling made the mouse run away. The tom angrily looked around, trying to find what had prevented him from catching his otherwise easy kill. The rattling continued, perplexing the tom even more.

The tom blinked, and suddenly he was in his bed, and in his house. The Twoleg beside him noticed he had woken up and pet him, cooing at him. The only word the ginger cat could make out in the Twoleg's gibberish language was "Rusty," his name.

Once the Twoleg was done petting Rusty, she went into the other room. Rusty looked at his food bowl and saw that it was full. That must have been the rattling noise. He crawled out of his bed and ate the food but didn't eat much. He hated how bland it was, and he wasn't even that hungry. Then, Rusty turned and walked out of the cat flap in the door. The setting sun tinted everything light orange, and the forest beyond the fence looked as shadowy and hidden as ever.

"Rusty!" The tomcat pricked his ears as his Twolegs called him. If he went, he would be met with cuddles and warmth. But Rusty wasn't in the mood. He jumped onto the fence, staring out into the forest. What was it like in there? What animals lived there? Rusty desperately wanted to explore.

"Hi, Rusty!" called a voice behind him.

Rusty turned around to see Smudge, his best friend since he had moved in with the Twolegs. "Hi, Smudge!"

"You curious about the forest again?" his friend asked.

"Yeah. I always wondered what was in there," Rusty replied.

"Henry went there once. He said he caught a robin there!" Smudge exclaimed.

Rusty snorted in amusement. "That fat old tabby couldn't go in the woods if he tried! He's so big, it's a wonder he can stand up."

Smudge laughed. "Yeah, I doubted it too. But I've also heard from other housecats that there are other cats that live in the forest. Cats like us, but they're feral and mean. According to some cats, they attack and sometimes kill other cats that show up on their turf and sharpen their claws on old bones!"

"I'm still not sure if that's true," Rusty murmured. "I want to go in there myself, to see if those kit tales are true!"

"I'm curious, too," Smudge admitted, "but I'm a scared to go in there. What if those old stories are true?"

"That's 'if,' Smudge," Rusty pointed out. "We should find out for ourselves!"

"Maybe we'll be the ones telling stories. Stories we know are true!" Smudge pondered. "Then we'll never have to doubt other sources… but I'm still not sure."

"Stick with me," Rusty offered. "If any feral cats come along to attack us, we might give them a good beating before we come back!"

Smudge sat for a moment, thinking. Then he stood up. "Fine, I'll come. But just because I'm worried you'll get hurt!"

Rusty knew there was probably more to it, but he didn't push the matter any further. "Alright, let's go!" He jumped off the fence, Smudge following behind more slowly.

Once they reached the forest, they looked around. "Are you sure about this, Rusty?" Smudge asked, looking around frantically.

"We'll be fine," Rusty reassured. "Those feral cats are probably just kit tales!"

"If you say so," Smudge mumbled. He still seemed unsettled as he followed his friend.

Rusty stopped when he noticed a mouse. "Watch this," he whispered to Smudge. "I'm going to catch this thing!"

Smudge nodded and settled by a tree while Rusty crouched and approached his prey. The ginger tom was about to pounce when he heard a yowl behind him. "Rusty!"

The mouse looked up and scampered away. Rusty looked up at his friend, angry. "What was that for?"

"Behind you!"

Rusty turned around just as a gray blur crashed into him, bowling him into the ground. He heard Smudge hiss and the weight disappeared from his back. He looked up and saw a young gray tom growling at a hissing Smudge. Rusty knew that Smudge was probably scared out of his mind and was just putting on a brave face. He jumped up and attacked the gray tom from behind, making him yowl in surprise and anger. "Get out of here, Smudge!" Rusty called.

"I'm not leaving when you're in danger!" Smudge spat, trying to claw at the feral cat's face. His claws finally connected at the tom's cheek, making him yowl in shock again.

Meanwhile, Rusty was clawing at the gray tom's back when he pulled out from under him. "Alright, alright!" the young tomcat hissed, clambering up to the lowest branch in a nearby tree. "I get it, I'll stop! No need to gang up on me!"

"Why did you attack me, then?" Rusty hissed.

"Because you're on ThunderClan territory! Now I'd advise you leave before Lionheart and Bluestar come along; you'll be crowfood! They're much better at fighting than I am!"

"I didn't understand anything you just said!" Smudge yelled up at the gray tom. "What's ThunderClan? Who is Lionheart and Bluestar? Who are you?"

The tom sighed. "I'll explain if you don't attack me and let me come down there."

"Will you attack us?" Rusty retorted.

"No, but you'll still need to leave here after," the tomcat promised.

"Fine."

The feral cat crawled back down the tree. He settled down at the base and started grooming the scratch on his side that Rusty inflicted. "My name's Graypaw," he explained between licks, "and I'm an apprentice of ThunderClan."

"I swear, you speak more gibberish than the Twolegs!" Smudge groaned.

Graypaw sighed again before he began grooming the wound on his cheek with a paw. Rusty felt a sting on his side and looked down to see a scratch there. He began grooming that while listening to Graypaw.

"So," Graypaw began, "ThunderClan is one of the four groups of cats that live in the forest. There's also RiverClan, WindClan, and ShadowClan. I've reached six moons a while ago, so now I'm training to be a full member of the Clan."

"Why couldn't you train earlier?" Smudge asked.

"Because according to the code our warrior ancestors set, kits cannot be apprenticed until they reach six moons."

"There's a code?" Smudge squeaked. "I thought you all just lived recklessly in the wild and killed for no reason!"

"We kill to survive," Graypaw gasped, sounding offended. "Wouldn't you, if you lived in the wild? We only kill prey to eat, and only kill other cats if there is no other option. Well, most of us. ShadowClan doesn't seem to follow that rule."

"ShadowClan's another Clan in the forest, you said," Rusty asked, finishing his grooming, "right?"

Graypaw nodded. "Back when a tom named Raggedstar was leader, ShadowClan followed the code like any other Clan. Then his son, Brokenstar, came into power after Raggedstar's sudden and mysterious death, and it all fell apart from there. But you might not understand. You're kittypets, after all."

"Kittypets?" Smudge and Rusty echoed in unison.

"What you are," Graypaw explained. "Cats who live with the Twolegs. Your collars are a dead giveaway."

"What's wrong with that?" Smudge asked.

"It's an undignified life!" Graypaw spat. "Eating food that looks like rabbit dung? Making dirt in a box of gravel? Sticking your nose outside only if your Twolegs let you? That's no way to live your life! Out here, it's wild, and it's free. I bet your Twolegs gave you stupid names like Ginger and Spotty."

"Actually," Rusty corrected, "my name's Rusty, and my friend here is Smudge."

"At least those are more creative." Graypaw grumbled. "But still, how do you stand it? Especially when you know that you'll have to go to the Cutter."

"The Cutter?" Rusty echoed.

"Y'know, the Twoleg that kittypets go to, and when the kittypets return, they aren't the same."

"Like, fat, lazy, and boring 'not the same?'" Smudge asked.

"Yes, exactly like that."

"That must be what happened to Henry!" Smudge gasped.

Graypaw chuckled. "Henry? And just when I thought Twolegs couldn't name their kittypets stupider things." Suddenly he paused. "I smell cats from my Clan. You should go."

"I can't smell anything," Rusty said, confused.

"I think Graypaw's right," Smudge gasped.

"I know I smell someone," Graypaw hissed, "and you need to go! They might not be as welcoming as I am."

"It's not like you were welcoming!" Rusty pointed out. "You attacked me."

"You were-"

"And what were these kittypets doing, Graypaw?" growled a voice from the shadows.

Rusty looked up and saw a blue-gray she-cat and a large golden tom towering over him, Smudge, and Graypaw.