Secrets Of The Clans

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The story of the beginning of the warrior Clans has been passed down by cats of all Clans, from elder to warrior, from warrior to apprentice, from queen to kit. The story is never the same twice, and parts grow uncertain, or they become suddenly clear in the telling. There are some cats who walk dimly, their names and deeds lost in the sweet fog of the elders’ den, for the warrior Clans have roamed the forest for moons beyond counting…

Many moons ago, the forest was a wilderness, untamed by territories. In the north lay sweeping moorland; in the south was dense woodland. On the edge of the trees, a tumbling river flowed out of a dark ravine.

Cats came into the forest. They were drawn by the soft rustlings of small creatures, shadows under the water, and the sudden commotion of birds’ wings in the trees. These were not warrior cats. They lived in small groups, not yet Clans. There were no borders set down. And they fought constantly, fearful that prey might run out and that their overlapping territories were being threatened. It was a lawless, bloody time for the forest, and many cats died.

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