A plumed, spotted molly sat with a silver tabby she-cat. She purred as they ate a pigeon together. On the surrounding rocks were cats of all colors and shapes. The sun shined warmly on the smooth stones they were basking on.

A caterwaul pierced the air and all of the cats rushed to the source. A large ginger tabby sat in front of a battered and bruised black tom. "Mollies, She-cats and queens of Snakeclan! We have gained another prisoner!" She triumphantly cried "And from this day onward, this prisoner will be known as Mutt." she sneered "Spot" the said molly gazed into her leaders blazing orange eyes. "I entrust you with bringing Mutt to the cave and make the necessary 'adjustments' to it"

Spot nodded and grabbed the bleeding tom by the tail, roughly dragging him to the cave where prisoners were kept.

The smell of blood and dirt were strong as she yanked the dark cat inside. The many tom-cat prisoners were wailing and sobbing, laying on their sides, helpless. Their legs were twisted at grotesque angles, healed the wrong way. She dropped the tom carelessly, then leaped with all her might on his legs. The sickening crunch of shattering bone signaled a job well done. She put him onto his uninjured side, and propped his broken legs on wide pieces of driftwood, ensuring that when the broken bones heal, he will be unable to move. She hastily left to clean the blood off of her paws.

She sat quietly, staring into space. The familiar silver tabby sat beside her, "You did great today, Spot, that Mutt won't be leaving anytime soon!" she laughed. Spot smiled at her friend, "Thank you, Frost."