"Before the Clans, but after the time of the Great cats, we were scattered throughout the territories," Beechpaw began. "Many cats were loners, but there were some that travelled in groups. They were small, though, nothing like the Clans we have now. They didn't know the first thing about loyalty, and most groups that actually stuck together tended to be family."

"What are 'great cats'?" Firepaw asked, as Beechpaw paused.

"Shh," Graypool shushed him quietly. "Another story for another day."

"Yeah, well, there was one cat that was a newcomer to the territory," Beechpaw went on. "She was said to have come from beyond the mountains. She kept to herself for a while, watching the ways of the other cats. In winter, when prey was scarce, cats would fight over every scrap of prey, and many would die. There were no laws, and there was no Code to guide them. They weren't above killing if it meant their kits could eat."

"You forgot her name," Shadepaw cut in.

"Oh—sorry." Beechpaw licked his chest, embarrassed. "I don't get to tell stories that often. Her real name has been forgotten to time. But we call her Wind, because she was the first leader of WindClan, and the first real leader of any Clan. It's believed that WindClan was the first of all Clans, and that others came together shortly after. Anyway, Wind hated to watch the senseless fighting. She was said to be incredibly wise, and she believed that if only the rogue cats could work together, they could all survive prey-starved seasons. So she set about the moorland first, trying to speak to any cat that would listen to her. Most turned their noses up and went back to their dens."

"But there were some that joined her. They were mostly cats with no family groups. They were the most vulnerable, and the most easily chased off from their catches. Even though Wind could rarely get cats who stuck with their family to join her, she based her plan on them—those cats, though they had more mouths to feed, usually were able to hold on to their dens, hold onto their catches, and even chase cats away from their own prey. She believed that this could be expanded to include more than just one's mate and kits, that if a large group of cats banded together with a common goal of companionship and survival, they would do just as well, if not better. Over time, Wind was able to gather a large number of cats as her followers. They truly believed in her wisdom, and readily stuck together. As they grew in size, they grew in strength, and began to establish a territory where only they could hunt. Anyone who would not join them was chased off to ensure that the prey in the moor remained theirs. Of course, this didn't bode well with other cats who had lived there. Though they recognized the strength that came with numbers, they were too furious to just fall in line with Wind and live on the moorland with her."

"The second Clan is said to be ShadowClan. They were chased across the Thunderpath, towards the barren land they now live in. They found a common interest in their hatred for Wind, and ironically, it drove them to form a large group of their own and establish a rigid territory as well. They had even greater need to stick together in that place. ShadowClan territory has always been scarce of prey, even in the summer. Because they didn't have to kill one another to keep from starving, they were able to hunt together and share their meager findings."

"As the marshland group grew, they began to invade Wind's territory. Their confidence grew with their numbers, and they realized they could beat Wind at her own game, and chase her cats off of the choice parts of their territory in return. The fighting was always vicious, and lives were constantly being lost. This began to take a toll on cats on both sides. Many just wanted peace, not senseless fighting, and some cats began to abandon their groups and head south. Some came here, to the river, and found like-minded cats who had been otherwise loners."

"This was the start of RiverClan, the third Clan. The few loners that lived along the stretch of the river lived relaxed lives, plump and beautiful from the bountiful fish. The former group cats that found themselves at the river loved the promise of a calm life, and they settled down here. Even those from opposing sides eventually began to stick together—while they'd hated the constant fighting, they'd learned that there was sense to having a group."

"Don't think that it means RiverClan can't fight," Shadepaw added, her claws unsheathing for a moment.

Beechpaw rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We're tough."

"RiverClan is like the river we're named for," Graypool said. "Always flowing, often calm, but ever strong. ThunderClan looks down on us because we know how to relax, but they underestimate our strength."

Firepaw pricked his ears. Someday I'll be strong like the rest of RiverClan, he thought.

"Anyway, back to the story," Beechpaw meowed. "The group that became RiverClan stuck together on the shore of the river, protected on all sides by the river. Because of this, they were able to contently avoid most of the conflict. For a long time, they didn't actually mark their borders, believing the river to be enough of one to keep out cats that didn't want to be there. The first medicine cats were said to come from RiverClan, because of the lasting peace, but that's a whole other story too."

"So then there was the group that later became ThunderClan. They came last, but they'll all tell you that their Clan was the first or that we all became Clans at the same time because they're too embarrassed to admit it. Anyway, most rogues and loners, even those in once-safe family groups, had been chased all over the territories as real, strong groups began to spring up around them. Those in the forest really had no choice but to join together, or risk being overrun by a different group. Plus, the forest is teeming with badgers and foxes—which is deadly for a lone cat with no friends. They joined forces, and the few cats left that still didn't want a life as part of a loyalty-bound group fled for good. Many became kittypets or roamed at the edge of the territories, forever bitter over the loss of their homes, but never brave enough to take us on."

Badgers? Foxes? Firepaw still had questions, but he didn't interrupt.

Beechpaw cleared his throat before he continued. "So life continued like this for a while. Wind was proud of the group she had amassed, but in doing so, she'd only strengthened those who wanted her land and prey. Because there was still no code in place to bind them to honor, fighting went on and cats kept dying. Wind came to the conclusion that the groups must all unite, or they would risk falling apart and returning to their old ways. She called for a meeting with all of the group cats, and to her surprise and relief, the three other groups agreed. As with her group, the others had all naturally found someone capable of taking charge, and they had decided they liked the taste of power. When all four groups gathered at Fourtrees, Wind came forward from her cats to speak to all cats."

"'Thank you for agreeing to meet me", she told them. "I will try to be to the point. I gathered my followers because I saw that our land was rife with fighting and suffering. Those who were alone starved or died to defend their scraps of prey, while even cats who stuck with their family hardly got by. In the time that my group and I have joined together, I have watched us flourish. Our kits do not starve, and we do not have to fight each other for the prey on the moor. But still, we fight all of you, and I know you fight with each other.'"

"'We know this, rabbit-breath," hissed the leader of the forest cats. He was a massive tom, with a handsome brown tabby pelt. Even Wind herself stiffened at his voice. "It was you who first chased cats from the moor and caused the same to happen across these territories. Get to the point.'"

"I heard he had a ginger pelt," Shadepaw interrupted with a flick of her tail. "That's what Sandpaw told me."

"Oh, who cares about what his fur looked like?" Beechpaw groaned. "Are you telling this story, or am I?"

"Sorry," Shadepaw muttered. "Go on."

"Thanks," Beechpaw muttered. "So Wind says, "I want to put an end to our rivalry. I think that all of our groups should join forces as one. This will allow us to stop the fighting and focus on surviving together."

"'That's ridiculous!" protested a cat from the river group. She was the one that her group looked to for guidance, as she was the first one to teach herself to swim. "There are so many of us and so much land. Who would lead all these cats?'"

"The marshland group's leader stepped forward. He was a skinny thing, but he had a dangerous, cunning look in his eye. "I don't see why I couldn't step up," he hissed. "My cats may have the worst choice of land, but we're by far more resourceful than the rest of you." Of course, this didn't sit well with cats from outside his group. There were protests from the three other groups, and each began to shout for their own leader to challenge him. It isn't known who struck the first blow, but first it was two cats who leaped for each other, and within moments, chaos broke out among the groups. Cats turned on each other as they fought ruthlessly, still thinking of nothing but their own survival and dominance."

Beechpaw stretched out his legs and cleared his throat. "The battle raged until nightfall. There were so many cats and so much blood—it was impossible to tell friend from foe. Cats fell like leaves in the winter, and their friends and family kept fighting to avenge them. It seemed that they would keep fighting until every last cat was dead in the clearing. The only light illuminating the clearing in the darkness was the moon—but out of nowhere, the clearing was suddenly plunged into total darkness. Clouds, as though appearing from thin air, had covered it fully, blocking out every ray of light. Cats ceased fighting and began to cry out in fear and confusion."

"Suddenly, dim light began to shine from around them. The spirits of their fallen allies had risen from their bodies like wraiths, and all fell quiet as they gazed upon them in awe. The spirit-cats weaved around the living, finding their loved ones among those that remained. "You must stop this violence," the spirits told them. "But not like this. You have found your own ways, in your own homes. But without change, there can only be more death. You must find honor in your life, and stick to your own borders. You cannot be rogue groups any longer—you must become noble Clans, or you will fall apart and kill each other like you have tonight.'"

"'But I thought this was the way," an exhausted Wind said. "I didn't want a fight, I just wanted us to join together!'"

"One of the spirit-cats shook their head. "You had good intentions, but this isn't the solution. There are too many differences between you and too many old grudges to create an alliance. You must all build honor within your groups, but you must keep to your own places. Defend your territory, but do not needlessly trespass on another. You must find a way to create structure, or you will all fall to battles like these.'"

"And then, like mist, the spirits dissolved and rose to the sky. The living watched as they went up, and after they had vanished, the first stars appeared in the sky. The stars are the spirits of our ancestors, and they watch over us with Silverpelt. Our souls will all pass on one day and go to be with Silverpelt, and we will make the night sky a little brighter as we watch over our Clanmates for all time to come."

"Silverpelt?" Firepaw echoed.

"The sky, the mother of cats," Shadepaw explained. "But she's part of a different story, too. All you need to know for now is that she created us, and she watches over us with the moon and the sun. She keeps the souls of departed warriors close to her, providing them a comfortable afterlife as they join her in the sky."

"Silverpelt is an important figure in our Clans, too," Graypool explained. "But you've got moons to learn about her, and more about StarClan."

Firepaw thought on this for a moment. The stars are the spirits of warriors… He wasn't sure he entirely believed it, not yet, but the idea did sound nice.

"I'm sure it's quite a lot to hear," Graypool went on. "But StarClan is very important to us. They watch over us and guide us in times of need. You'll see, though—perhaps your trip to the Moonstone will convince you more."

"What's that?" Firepaw asked. I swear, if someone says 'another different story' again…

"Silverpelt dropped it into the mountains when she gave life to us," Shadepaw explained. "It allows us to see StarClan, in rare times. Mostly just medicine cats, though."

"Warriors don't speak to StarClan," Snowfang muttered. "Foolish apprentice."

"Snowfang is just old and bitter," Graypool sighed. "He didn't dream when he got to visit the Moonstone."

"We don't talk about whether or not we dreamt, Graypool," growled Snowfang.

"What apprentice doesn't?" Graypool chuckled. "Now, go on with you three. I think Snowfang needs his space and I'm quite tired myself."

"Yes, Graypool," Shadepaw meowed. "Have a good rest." She was the first to stand and leave.

Beechpaw stood, but hesitated. "Did I do a good job?" he asked. "With the story?"

Graypool laid down and tucked her paws under her chest. "Oh, of course you did," she said, smiling. "You're getting much better at storytelling."

Beechpaw puffed out his chest proudly and grinned. "Thanks!" He turned towards the mouth of the den. "Come on, Firepaw. You eaten yet?"

Firepaw quickly rose. "Not yet," he replied. "Not since yesterday."

"Great StarClan!" Beechpaw exclaimed. "I can't go even a half a day without eating something. Come on, then. We eat well in RiverClan."

Firepaw purred gratefully as he followed Beechpaw out of the elder's den. I'm not sure what to make of Shadepaw, but Beechpaw sure is nice!