There was not much one could do when sitting in a cave under guard day and night, so Frog resigned himself to sleeping and remembering the events of his miserable life. It did very little, if anything, to improve the mood of depression that hung like a cloud in his prison, but at least it helped to pass the time.

Judging from the claw marks on the wall, a careful tally of each sunhigh of his captivity, nearly a moon had passed since his capture. His memories of the outside world were beginning to fade, the only times they allowed him to leave his prison the days when Sleetstar called a meeting by the big rock. The customs of the Clan were foreign to the tabby, but at least they gave him a chance to stretch his legs.

Company was hard to come by but, as he always had, Frog found his own company best. He rarely spoke to the Clan cats, usually only muttering his thanks when they came in to drop off a small piece of prey. The taste of fish was slowly beginning to grow on him and he didn't mind eating alone. If anyone did stay to share his meal, it was either Eggpaw or Rainberry, the tom who saved him from the jeering crowd.

Rainberry referred to himself as a 'medicine cat'. The term was completely lost on Frog, but he assumed that the title brought with it an authority almost equal to Sleetstar's. From what he'd gathered, there was another title, belonging to a snooty grey she-cat with a white belly and paws, that also held importance. Eggpaw referred to her as the 'deputy'.

The strange names were also explained to the tabby after he pointed out to Eggpaw that eggs didn't physically have paws. This earned a purr of amusement from the white and grey tom and prompted him to spend the better part of the morning explaining the differences between warriors, apprentices and kits, while Frog puzzled over the fact that a name could be changed so many times in one lifetime.

He learned that there were two Clans, one living by the sea and one on the moors he'd passed on his journey. The rigid structure was common to both and they practiced similar rituals, meeting every full moon to discuss how their respective Clans faired. Sometimes, they would battle over the borders separating them, arguing over the prey and herbs that seemed to almost dictate their lives.

To Frog, this all seemed very excessive. Where he came from, everyone fended for themselves, sometimes banding together in rag-tag groups of loners to battle over a certain piece of territory before moving on to the next best piece of land in the city. Having nearly non-existant fighting and hunting skills, Frog avoided these bands, surprised that he'd survived this long. Perhaps he was just lucky when it came to survival.

On one particularly cold morning, Frog began to doubt that fact.

The day began as all the others had, the tabby waking to the sounds of a bustling camp. The barked list of names that came with dawn echoed about the cave and Frog stayed curled up on his prison floor, listening to the now familiar event.

His fur stood on end when he heard a single, small word, hardly a name at all.

Eggpaw appeared at the entrance of his cave, the grim look on his face confirming Frog's suspicions. If whatever was going on could make the apprentice sombre, the tabby's luck had run out.

The prisoner was marched out of his den, eyes widening as he took in the main cave. Two cats lay on the ground before the great rock, their bodies mangled almost beyond recognition. One had a pelt the colour of fire; the other as black as night. The scent still lingering on their fur was one of smoke.

"Who are they?" Sleetstar demanded, flicking his tail towards the two very dead cats. Frog stared at the bodies, not able to form coherent thoughts.

"Sleetstar asked you a question," said a black and white tom, unsheathing his claws. "Answer him, or you'll be next."

The tabby looked around at the assembled cats, their eyes narrowing as they met his. He realized that the two bodies belonged to loners, probably ones unlucky enough to cross the border, and that SeaClan believed he was afiliated with them.

"I don't know," he replied, voice shaking. "I've never seen them before."

The black and white tom's claws were at his throat immediately and Frog squealed in protest. Across the cave, Hailpaw and Fishpaw snorted.

"Look, Swanpaw," they teased, nudging the white apprentice. "You're strong enough to take down minnowhearts." The white she-cat shot them a murderous glare before turning to Frog and softening her gaze. He felt his heart leap at the worry in her eyes, hoping against all hope that the she-cat would believe him. She'd been the one to capture him; surely, she would be the one to save him, too?

The steel that entered her amber eyes as she turned away caused his heart to plummet into the depths of his stomach.

"You better not be lying to me, you hear?" Sleetstar roared. Frog ripped his eyes away from Swanpaw, cowering before the dominance of SeaClan's leader.

"Tell him the truth," urged Honeypool.

Frog found himself speechless. These mutilated loners were complete strangers to him, from a Twolegplace much different than his own. The ashy smell of smoke still clinging to their fur was dirtier, more salty than the one he knew. Yet, the Clan wanted to hear a confession, something that would prove him guilty and give an excuse to be rid of his miserable existence.

Frog was many things. A coward, for one. A pathetic excuse of a cat, too. But, if there was one thing the tom wasn't, it was a liar.

"I'm telling the truth!" he hissed in a moment of frustration.

Sleetstar pinned him to the ground, amber eyes boring into him. "I guess StarClan will be the one to judge you," the leader spat.

Frog found himself being dragged out of the main cave by the scruff, body racked with waves of fear. The rock beneath him scraped at his skin, drawing blood as they pulled him along the pebbles of the beach. The smell of salt grew stronger and the tom shivered as the cold sea air hit him.

"I don't know them, I swear!" he cried. "I'm not from their territory, I've never met those loners!"

The deadly procession paid no mind to his cries. Frantically, the tom searched for Eggpaw, for Rainberry, for Swanpaw - surely, she knew the scent of the smoke on the loners didn't match up with his own.

"Why won't you believe me?!"

Sleetstar halted, his piercing gaze settling on Frog. Disgusted, he turned away, raising his voice so that it could be heard above the crashing of the waves. "It is time SeaClan took control of their territory. Too long has it been trespassed, stolen from and fed off of by the likes of this coward, nothing more than a leech."

He lowered his voice, looking down upon the frightened tabby as he growled, "There's only one thing to do with a leech, and that's to remove it."

"Trial by water!" came a call from the assembled crowd. Frog's eyes widened as he tried to understand the words, which rose up into the air, a ritualistic chant repeated over and over as more cats joined in.

Soon, all of SeaClan cried those three words. He searched the crowd for a shred of mercy, finding Eggpaw's eyes averted and Swanpaw's stricken face, but nothing to save him.

They pushed him towards the water, which roared like a giant beast, as if sensing the kill it would soon make. He felt it splashing up around him, sucking at his fur and chilling him to the bone. Once it caught hold of him, there would be no escape.

"SeaClan, to the Sunset Cliffs!" Sleetstar suddenly commanded and the crowd melted away, moving like water over the rocky beach. Frog moved after them but was stopped by Gannetfur, who pressed his claws to Frog's throat. The warrior bared his teeth in a terrifying grin and pushed, sending Frog backwards towards the sea. He shook his head, pleading with his eyes, but Gannetfur continued to move, stopping only once they were in view of the cliff where SeaClan had gathered.

With a sneer, the tom pushed the tabby forward, shrinking back into the shadows of the cliff. The water came up higher now, lapping at the cuts on Frog's pads and causing them to sting. He stepped forward shakily, not quite certain what he was to do.

By the time he realized he was not alone, it was almost too late.

He leaped back, staring at the beast rising out of the water before him. It was enormous, twenty times the size of any cat he'd ever seen, and covered in a thick, brown skin. Its black, beady eyes peered at him from behind an elongated nose. It opened its jaws, spraying Frog with sticky saliva as it gave off a deafening roar.

The tabby froze in terror, eyes glued to the fleshy pink of the creature's open mouth. A scream from atop the cliff brought him to his senses and he tored himself away, scrambling over the rocks to get as far away from the beast as possible.

The creature crashed back onto the rocks with a force that would have crushed the tom had he not moved. It shook its head this way and that, searching him out, catching sight of his tabby pelt amongst the grey of the rocks easily.

The cat was sent flying with one swat of the creature's fin, landing on his side. He could feel the stones beneath him piercing his skin and he clambered to his paws. Blood poured out of his side and into the water below, which now rose up to his belly. Turning to face the behemoth, he found it looming above him again.

Thousands of pounds of blubber came crashing down, hitting the water with a slap and sending up a spray. Frog yowled, his tail caught beneath the creature's weight. It looked him right in the eye and let off another fearsome roar, its breath stinking of fish. The tom trembled as he stared certain death in the face.

The water rose even higher and Frog struggled to keep his head above it. He heard the taunts and jeers coming from the cliff above, someone yelling that true frogs could swim.

That, however, was not something that this Frog could do.

The beast lifted itself up again in preparation for another assault and the tom pulled his tail free, paws sliding on the slippery surface of the now submerged beach. He felt the wind ruffling his fur as the creature brought its weight down once more and the spray of the sea as it splashed over him, but he was far enough away to escape its clutches.

All fear forgotten as the instinct of self-preservation took over, Frog moved towards the cliff. It was his only chance at survival, if there was any at all. Cats could at least be reasoned with; this beast was set on one thing only.

Layer upon layer of rock loomed over him, crags and crevices just visible from where Frog stood. If he could just reach that crevice, he would escape from the beast and his unmistakeable fate.

The tom leaped up, water-logged fur weighing him down, and his claws scratched at the bottom of the outcropping before he fell back into the sea. He gasped for air, coughing up the salty water. Ignoring the weariness in his bones and the stinging of his injuries, he bunched his muscles beneath him in preparation for another jump.

Too late, he realized the creature was right behind him. He felt himself being lifted up, a cry escaping his throat as it grabbed him by the tail and threw him against the cliff face. The tabby hit it with a crack, the air leaving his body all at once.

Then, he was falling, black at the edges of his consciousness. With his last ounce of strength, he reached out with his claws and managed to find a foothold in the cliff.

The creature waited just below him, looking up at his dangling form. In the moment it leaped up from the sea, Frog hauled himself into the tiny crevice, making himself as small as possible.

Pain shot through him like a thousand bee stings and the darkness finally overwhelmed him. Somewhere in the distance was the sound of splashing water.

A/N: There's part 2! If you enjoyed it, or have a spare moment, please let me know what you liked or what could be changed. Every little comment helps me with my writing :)

- Spirit