T H E - F I R S T - G E N E R A T I O N
PROLOGUE
Ninety moons ago three city cats heard a story. Their story-teller was an old black tom, who called himself Ravenpaw. He shared with them his quest...and a tale of power, betrayal, and mystery.
"I come from a place called ThunderClan. Have you seen cats come this way that call themselves as such?" He asked, but when the city cats replied no, he made to leave.
But they were curious, and pressed him further.
Ravenpaw shared with them a whole new world.
It was a fairy-tale story, of four wildcat clans joined together, defeating the odds as Twolegs destroyed their homes. They were rivals, coming together to make sure no cat was left behind.
Wildcats! Feeding themselves, independent of Twoleg slop and kittypet pellets. Living
together as
one.
But it seemed that times had not always been so well, when the devastation of their forest homes had come about. Clan rivalries forced murder and war, and some cat was always sure to die.
Despite the tragic memories that these tales seemed to conjure up, the alley cats pressed the old tom for more.
One particular she-cat, a tortoiseshell named Fern, was by far the most intrigued. She kept calling Ravenpaw back, requesting that he tell them
everything.
Life as an ill, scrawny, alley cat was already seeming old -- and ugly, based on Ravenpaw's description of clan life.
Fern, and her two good friends Poppy and Cloud, begged the elderly tom to touter them. How to live like a clan cat. They were still young, and had many moons head of them to learn and absorb his teachings...
So, he stayed, and discontinued his search for Firestar and ThunderClan. It was quite hopeless, where was he to go, and who was he to ask now?
He taught these cats the warrior code, and what it meant to respect and have loyalty. How to hold true to a promise, and be relentless when faced with indecision. ...that even emotion is right enough to press into the warrior code at times.
He taught them about StarClan...and as he did so, Ravenpaw was sure that he could see some cat's starry ancestors in the shadows. There was something in these cats that sparked him to believe they would never forget what he had taught them.
For what he was worth, he mentored these young cats until the last breath was drawn from his body. With what these city cats had learned, they took his body to the dank shadows of the alley, and sat vigil for him underneath the stars.
After moons of preparation, Fern, Poppy, and Cloud organized themselves. This was not the life for them, they were quite sure, and many other city cats rallied with them.
Cats from all over were gathered. Cats of all ages. They split among themselves, based on family and tight relations; from which side of the city they originated, or which were raised by Twolegs.
Some elected to stay behind, because work and effort were not what they sought for in life. Living under the cautious eyes of city officials and eating Twoleg slop was a comfortable enough life...and battle scars only came when compromise was absolutely nonexistent.
Compared to clan life, the life of an alley cat was pampered and luxurious.
So, Fern and her tight band of cats moved up the slopes to the northwest. Poppy took her share of cats to the east...and Cloud followed her, and headed north.
The warrior code said that alliances between clans were forbidden. Fern, Poppy, and Cloud respected this...despite their deep friendships in the city. They had clans behind them for support now, and knew that once they had lived their fair share of lives...they would meet again.
The three cats said their good byes, and departed up the hills and through the forest where Twolegs were sparse.
A beautiful waterfall divided a marshy valley into many islands. Elegant red trees sprouted, sheltering the watery paradise. The tortoiseshell declared that she would take the red forest, where the undergrowth and ferns was warm and thick, and name it RedClan. The divinity of the forest spoke to her, and whispered her name...
Poppy, a thin black she-cat, claimed the beautiful green hills to the east--just across a majestic river. She claimed it was the beauty if the wildflowers--tulips, marigolds, and poppies--that wooed her. She deemed her clan LittleClan, for it was the smallest...yet had bigger hearts and desires than anyone could imagine.
However, the long haired brown tom was left with little choice. The mountains were poor--and at the time, Fern owned all the valley--and to that, the tall green mounds north of LittleClan were quite preferable. They looked over all the other clans, where even the smallest of kits could touch the sky. Cloud named his clan after himself, and his lust for the heavens; CloudClan.
They agreed soundly, and planned that the island at the base of the waterfall would suffice as a meeting place each full moon.
Exploration of their new territories lead to the finding of the MoonCave, a brilliantly hidden cavern behind the waterfall. Inside, water leaked from the roof and puddled into a well-sized pond. Thus, it was named the MoonPool--where leaders and medicine cats would meet to share dreams with StarClan.
Names were given among the band of loners and city cats; leaders gained their lives; deputies and medicine cats were decided on...duties were organized, and life began under the sure, watchful eyes of their ancestors.
Five moons passed...