** Welcome to the story of battles, doubt, viciousness, clearity, abuse, and everything but mercy. I thank you for deciding to read this story. This is Jay the Loner describing the land that will be featured over the rest of the story. I hope you understand where everything is. I have a map to help me, but you don't.**

Prologue

I have lived in the safe, bountiful valley for more years than any cat can imagine. I was here to see generations of cats live and die in those Clans they live in.

The Clans could do what ever they really wanted as long as they left me alone; and they did. I was free to roam this wonderful land and see everything it offered to me.

I knew both banks of the river like the back of my paw. I had walked them all my life and will continue to walk them until I can walk no more.

The right bank is completely covered in trees. When you are laying on the edge of the river, trees are all you can see. They stand tall with their green leaves fluttering in the breeze.

If you were to venture into the trees, you would find that they thin out until you are standing on a grassy plain. If you are big enough, you can see over the blades of grass that waves with every gust of the wind.

Over the blades of grass lies large boulders that were there as long as I have been alive, and that is a long time. They stand tall and straight through any weather the sky throws at them.

They house a group of cats that call themselves OakClan. It is a name that strikes fear into my heart because they abuse she-cats. I have often walked by only to flee at the sound of screams from the she-cats as they are beaten.

I often run north to the Twoleg path that is often hidden by trees. If I continue upward, I leave behind the trees to a land of marshy ground and little vegetation. Frogs and other despicable creatures wallow in the filthy water that collects in ponds and puddles.

The farthest north that I have dared to travel is the Fox Rock. It stands alone and is easily the highest point within many, many fox lengths. It marks the edge of where most sane cats will travel.

Some say that in the dark pines beyond, there lives cold hearted foxes that live just to eat cats. Only one cat in my memory had lived to tell the tales of what she saw in there.

If I at the Twoleg path instead of continuing past it, I walked down it, I would be rewarded with a drink from the chilled pond. It is feed by an ice river that flowed from the peaks of the mountains.

Sometimes on a clear day, you can see the Twoleg path I would often pass if I choose to run south from OakClan's camp. The half-bridge is something to avoid because strong OakClan toms are sometime fishing into the water.

Past the southern Twoleg path is a barren field that is covered with dirt and dying grasses. I like to call it the Great Moor though the other rogues and loners like to call it the Windswept. Their name does have its reasoning behind it.

The wind rattle across the grasses and creates an eerie nose as it echoes through the hollow stalks. On the night of the half moon, OakClan cats like to walk across the Great Moor and disappear into the tunnels that the badgers made before they moved away.

My father told me that he had been down there once before, and it wasn't an abandoned badger set, but a cavern full of glistening stone that shone under the light of the moon. He told me I had to see the beauty in my own eyes to really see it.

I just laughed at my old, senile father who was amused by shining stones. I had already seen the Sharp Stones that parted the dense woods on the right bank. They were desolate and barren with the only life being the moss that clung to the damp rocks.

I had just been in the middest of the stones once when a group of rogues chased me from the Twolegplace that lay on an island that lay on the northern part of the river. They were a vicious bunch that wasn't afraid to fight.

I had been on their island because using the bridges; it was the only way to get across the river if you didn't want to be washed away. It still held its dangers: being attacked by rogues, crushed and eaten by a monster, or falling over the edge.

On the other side was the beautiful left bank with its wind open land covered by scarce trees and running streams and smaller rivers.

The thunderpath connected to the bridge separated the raccoon's pine forest from the rest of the land. They never bothered the cats and preferred to spend their days wandering the Twolegplace in search of food.

A smaller pine forest grew next to the thunderpath on the other side. It was dark and scary and often an owl would coo from its post in a distant tree. No crickets chirped and it was a desolate place.

If you walked out of the forest, you would find yourself in a marshland much like the one on the right bank near the Fox Rock. Fog and mist rise off because of the heat of the thunderpath and the monsters that run down it.

When you were tried of dragging your paws through the ground that squelched with everything step, the ground dried up. Short sprouts of grass shot up, and rabbits ran around like there wasn't a care in the world.

A tall oak tree stands between the marshland and the moor. Its branches reach up to the highest stars in the sky. My mother used to tell me that its trunk was hollowed out, and you could climb the grooves until you were in the sky.

How wonderful it must be to be up in sky and be able to see everything around you. You could stare across the flat moors until you see the islands the dot the southern left bank.

On one of those islands live another group of cats called BloomClan. Some days, I might cross the fallen tree onto their island. The she-cats there are friendly and are always willing to offer me a piece of prey if I'm hungry.

I only go over if I'm in a desperate situation because they stare at me like I'm a juicy piece of prey. Their leader even had the nerve to ask me if I wanted to join. She seemed startled when I told her that I was just fine on my own, thank you very much.

They did leave me free to explore the many islands that formed because the river would branch off only to reconnect at a location further down. I think I counted a total of fifteen pieces of land, but I might have lost count.

Only two could really be considered an island because the others were only a couple of fox lengths long. BloomClan lived on one hospitable one, and I usually spent most of my time on the other.

Well, you could find me there if I wasn't off exploring. That was the old days though. Now I'm hear the entire time, and I don't know if I will live to regret not telling BloomClan about the cruel OakClan that lives across the uncrossable river.

I don't believe I will because they know nothing of the thunderpath bridge. I will be able to live the rest of my days with a peace of mind that comes from living a life worth living.

**Please review and tell me what you think about the scene I created. I think I'm going to start of with Breezepaw of OakClan. I might include a tiny but from Blossomfrost. Remeber to review because that speeds up my writing.**