Rock felt his littermate, Fern stir beside him. His mother curled around the two in the birthing den. He tried to get back to sleep by burrowing deeper into his mother's fur. When he did fall alseep, he wished he was awake again, for the dream that he had was terrifying.
He dreamt that he was in a cave, with the ugliest cat in the world. It was hairless, had a rat-like tail, and worst of all were the eyes. It had bulging white eyes. It was talking to a grey tabby. He couldn't hear most of the words, but at times, Rock cought things like Thunderclan and The Three.
Rock awoke, his heart racing.
"What's wrong, Rock?" His mother asked wearily.
"Nothing. Just a bad dream is all," it was a lie though. Because it had bothered him more than he let on. He went to smooth his ruffled white fur, his blue eyes reflected in a puddle on the floor.
This dream was different, he thought, it wasn't like the others.
This was not the first dream that had interrupted Rock's sleep. He often dreamt that he was fighting off dozens of cats, killing many of them.
Giving himself a shake, he settled back down next to Fern's blue grey body and struggled to go to sleep.
The light filtering through the enterance to the den stirred Rock. Blinking his eyes open he looked about. The den was empty except for him. Wondering how long he had slept, he stepped outside. His tribe's camp was positioned in between towering walls of stone. The Tribe of Burning Sun had lived around a large grassy clearing surrounded by a woodland, pine forests, a moor, and a river. The grassy clearing was a strange site. It was perfectly flat, crushed by giant monsters with huge black paws. There were two other tribes, The Tribe of Blue Sky and the Tribe of Floating Clouds. They were led by cats called PoolDrinkers, for they went to the Star Pool every moon to share tongues with their ancestors in the Tribe of Endless life.
"Mother! I'm going to the grassy clearing!" He called.
"Don't stray onto any tribes territory, dear," she replied.
Rock bounded out of his tribe's camp, the wind whipping through his soft white fur. Vines whipped at him, but he didn't care. He was going to the grassy clearing, a ritual all kits went through before they were aloud to hunt. PoolDrinker would be so proud of him!
He reached the clearing, not a cat in sight. He didn't pause to scent the air. His first mistake.
The scent of cat flooded his nose. He turned around to see a ragged grey tom in front of him. The tom leaned closer, his breath reaking of RatFood.
"Oh dear, what are we going to do with you?" And the cat unsheathed his claws.