"Did you hear?"
Root paused and pricked his ears to listen. He had just been on his way home with a freshly caught mouse when he'd heard the whispers, coming from behind some bushes to his left. He could scent two cats.
"Hear what?" A second voice asked, mirroring his thoughts.
"About the clans," the first said emphatically, "There are these groups of cats away northwards that call themselves clans."
"Clans?"
"Yes, they have strange ways, and they accept newcomers sometimes, but they don't take kindly to outsiders who don't intend to join them."
"How strange, do you intend to join them?"
"Not at all, but I've heard of cats who have. It's only a few days' journey northeast, but I don't see the point, we have a good thing going here and it would be foolish to throw that away, chasing strange cats with strange new ideas."
"I agree, nothing but trouble will come of it I'm sure."
The voices faded, but Root remained where he stood, pondering these clans that they spoke of. Perhaps they had a point, but his curiosity was piqued.
Slowly, he continued on his way, almost forgetting the hunger in his belly and the mouse in his jaws, until he wiggled his way into the old fox den where his brother sat waiting with a dove.
"I see you've had some success as well!" Deer said, "Good, I wasn't looking forward to sharing again."
Deer was the bigger of the two, he wasn't a small cat, unlike Root. Their mother used to say that Deer was born extra big, though they all knew that Root was the one born extra small. His patched fur was also a much darker brown than Root's, though more thin and coarse.
"Have you heard about the clans?" Root wondered as he set his mouse down.
"You too?" Deer asked, "Yes, everyone seems to be talking about it, apparently some old tom came down from the northeast with tales of them."
"He met them?"
"It seems so," Deer said, taking a bite of his dove, then through his mouthful he asked, "Why?"
"I don't know…" Root said thoughtfully, "Just curious I suppose, isn't it interesting?"
"Perhaps," Deer replied, "Though I don't see the point of sticking our noses in it, it has nothing to do with us."
"No, it doesn't," Root said slowly, "But still, you know me."
Deer frowned at him, "Yes, that's why I should be worried."
"Are you not?" Root grinned.
"Not as much as I should be, I'm sure. Now eat your mouse, or else I will."
He tried to put the whole thing out of his mind, but it always wormed its way back in, and that night, in his dreams, he thought that he heard whispers of clans and destiny. He woke feeling as if he hadn't slept much at all.
Deer was already gone, probably hunting.
Root stretched, his muscles stiff and aching from a restless night's sleep, then he headed out. If he didn't at least try to find his own breakfast, Deer would box his ears.
If neither of them came back successful, they would go right back out. There had been days when all they'd had to eat was a single mouse between them, usually in leaf-bare when prey was more scarce, but most often there was plenty to keep them alive and healthy enough. They were both strong young toms, not all of the cats around there were as fortunate.
Root knew of a family of four she-cats in which only one hunted most of the time. He believed her name was Hound, after her excellent sense of smell. Hound had born a litter of kits a few moons ago, and lost most of them. Her mate had taken no interest in the kits and moved on to other she-cats. It wasn't a particularly rare story around here, where most cats were only concerned for their own interests.
A cat like Hound, going hungry many days to feed her family instead, was uncommon. Most cats would have shed the dead weight.
Deer often said that they would all end up dead, that Hound should have taken her kits and left the other two a long time ago, but Root admired her devotion. Besides, Deer was a bit of a hypocrite, he could have left Root behind a long time ago, but they'd stuck together, even when one of them got sick and couldn't hunt. Deer always complained when Root got sick, but he knew that his brother cared, or else he would leave.
He could scent that other cats were in the woods nearby, so he decided to try his luck closer to the twoleg dens. Sometimes one could find kittypet food left out, but it usually wasn't available to Root, it would either all be eaten by the time he got there, but he would have to fight other cats over it, and Deer might do well, but Root wasn't the best fighter.
He knew of a twoleg garden where birds and squirrels often went to eat from hanging contraptions that the twolegs filled with seeds. That would be his best bet.
He hopped up onto the back fence of a twoleg garden and walked along it until he reached the front, leaping down and keeping close to the bushes as he trotted along to the next twoleg den, and the next.
There were so many different scents to pick apart in the twoleg place, those of many other cats, dogs, the various plants and prey that inhabited the gardens, the acrid stench of the sleeping monsters, and of course, the twolegs themselves.
It could be overwhelming, especially if he hadn't been in the twoleg place in a while. There were a lot of scents in the woods too, but they were all so much more subdued, and less layered over each other. There could be a lot more noise in the twoleg place too.
Root was about to cross the monster path when he heard, then spotted, a twoleg leaving its den on the other side. He slipped under a nearby monster and watched from there as it climbed into its own monster, which roared to life, and turned out onto the path.
He gave it a moment to make sure there wouldn't be any more activity, then crawled out from under the monster and raced across the path, not stopping until he reached the cover of some bushes.
Root went a few more dens down, then slipped through a gap in the fence, into the yard where the twolegs put out food for the birds and squirrels.
A jay was scratching at the ground, intending to bury some seeds for later, and Root slipped into a hunting crouch, eyes locked on his prey. He made it halfway, then there was a bang, the sound that the entry and exit to a twoleg den makes when slammed shut, and the shouts of twoleg kits from the garden on the other side of the fance.
He scowled as the bird flew away, startled by all of the noise from the next den over. He'd almost had it! Stupid noisy kits.
Root heard the soft thud and creak of another cat jumping onto the fence behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder, hoping it wasn't one of those territorial kittypets.
"Bad luck," the tom said, he was a plump orange tabby, a cat that Root knew, "I haven't seen you around here since leaf-bare."
"Pumpkin," Root greeted the kittypet, "Yes, the woods seemed busy today, so I thought I would have better luck here."
"Clearly not," Pumpkin said with a glint of humor in his eye, "I would offer you some of my food, but I don't tend to leave much left."
"I can see that."
"I'm not fat, I'm fluffy," Pumpkin huffed, then said, "Anyways, I guess you didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
"A lot of cats are gathering in the woods today to hear that stranger talk about the clans, you have heard that much, haven't you? I don't know how much information reaches you way out there in the woods."
"It's not that far away," Root shook his head, "Yes, I did hear talk of the clans and a stranger yesterday, though I didn't hear about this gathering, are you planning on going?"
"What for?" Pumpkin laughed, "I have no need for all of that nonsense, I have a nice comfortable life with my twolegs, and I think you should too, all of you. I bet mine would take you in if we showed them what good friends we are."
"Thanks, but no thanks, Deer and I are happy on our own, and in any case I should get going. As my brother says, idle chatter doesn't fill bellies."
"True enough I suppose."
When Root had made his way back to the woods, he followed the scent trails of the other cats until he reached a little clearing where they were gathered. An old tabby tom sat on an old log above the group, washing his face and ignoring the cats trying to get his attention.
Looking around, there were cats that he recognized, like Hound and her family, cats that he thought seemed familiar, like one black tom, and cats that he didn't recognize at all, such as one gray she-cat with black spots that appeared to be pregnant.
"I thought I might find you here," said Deer as he appeared at Root's side, a disapproving look on his face.
"You know me," Root replied with a smile.
Deer shook his head, but settled down beside him, prepared to sit through the gathering alongside his brother.
When the old tom finished washing his face, he introduced himself as Parsley, "I travel around a lot, and cats are often interested in what news I bring with me, but I've never had such an audience before, and frankly I don't blame you, because this time my news is especially odd."
Several cats spoke up, asking to hear about the clans, and Root sat up straighter, feeling just as excited as everyone else.
"Well let's see…" Parsley muttered, "Where to begin?"
A million questions arose, followed by much shushing, and Parsley lashed his tail impatiently until everyone had quieted down again.
"I wandered into the foothills of some mountains, they call it The Ridge there, and that's where I encountered the first clan, they called themselves Summitclan, and they were led by a she-cat that they called Sunstar. They invited me to join them and were disappointed when I refused, but they gave me a meal and bade me continue on my way. The next clan I encountered were Oasisclan, and they were less friendly, they didn't even ask me to join, they just chased me off."
"How many clans are there?" one cat asked.
"Four I think, though I only met three of them, the third was Cloverclan, like Summitclan they asked me to join, but they turned hostile when I again refused."
"Is that all you know?" one cat asked, sounding disappointed.
"Not at all, I learned some things in the time I spent with Summitclan."
Questions again arose, then again the shushing, until everyone fell silent and Parsley could continue.
"The whole clan works together, feeding and caring for one another, and they have a hierarchy, with a leader, a deputy, what they call a medicine cat, and warriors. It seems that the deputy will be the next leader, if the leader dies, but their medicine cat is looked up to just as much as their leader. I would infer from the title that they are in charge of caring for the sick and injured, but it seemed like there was more to it, though they didn't say much about it."
There were whispers of, "How strange," and, "Secrets can't mean anything good."
"You said they have warriors," one cat spoke up, "That sounds as if they intend to do a lot of fighting."
"Yes, I asked about that, it seems that they will fight and chase off dangerous animals like foxes, and that there's sometimes conflict between the clans."
"They chase off foxes?" one she-cat asked in disbelief, "I've never heard of such a thing!"
Some cats muttered about it being scary, while others whispered that they would like to see that, or that it was impossible.
"What else do you know?" Root spoke up, eager for more.
"Nothing really," Parsley admitted, "After they found out I wasn't interested in joining them, they didn't feel the need to explain themselves any more than necessary, though I noticed that the deputy would send the warriors out on patrols for food or to mark their territory."
Several cats muttered amongst themselves in disappointment, and Root agreed with the sentiment, he had hoped for more, though he supposed that he had already gotten more than he thought he would. The group soon began to break up, though a few stayed to hear other news from Parsley, unrelated to the clans.
"Ready to go now?" Deer asked, "I bet you didn't even eat before coming here, you mousebrain."