The End of a Beginning

Rain lashed at the coats of the many who were gathered by order of the few. Storm crackled in the skies, spelling fate in the air to a grey mackerel tabby she-cat who weaved nimbly between the restless crowds of cats assembled in the open clearing. She was far from used to the terrain, disliking the lashing air and freezing rain running through her fur as she looked for a few old friends of hers. It was hard to differentiate between the mass of faces, both of fear and of confidence, of dread and excitement, of anxiousness and anticipation, but she knew their scents like the back of her paw.
         It hardly long until she found the four cats she was looking for, two brown tabby sisters, a blue-gray tom, and a handsome spotted tomcat, all sitting in a circle and discussing with murmuring mews what was about to happen. Pushing lightly into the circle, she was greeted by excited eyes and happy tails as silence took hold of them all. Whilst the gray mackerel tabby had spent her whole life with the spotted tom Leaf Fall, the two tabby sisters and the blue-gray tom Rushing Tides were of different Tribes.
         "Late, as per usual." The friendly mew of the first tabby cat, who she already knew was Moon Shadow. Moon Shadow was the older of the two tabby cats but was lighter built and far nimbler on their paws.
         "What kept you this time, Falling Stones?" Came the mew of the other tabby cat, Fern Shadow. Fern Shadow was younger, far more playful but far better built than her sister.
         "I had to make sure the Softpaws were in still in camp, they move like rats if you take your eyes off them. Sparrow's Flight asked me to." Falling Stones explained with a small, exasperated purr, remembering the insistence of the Softpaws to be allowed to follow the Sharpclaws to the meeting. Sparrow's Flight would never have allowed them to come, not in such a dangerous and pivotal moment for all the three Tribes at the lake.
         "Talking about Sparrow's Flight, she's not actually going to participate with us, is she?" Came the anxious murmur of the blue-gray tom, before he was immediately cut off by an amused Leaf Fall purring "Goodluck telling her she can't."
         The powerful yowl of a senior cat cut through the assembled crowd's murmuring, silencing them with ease as three cats assembled on a rock at the head of the clearing. The Three Sisters, or so they were named, three Healers who had ran the Tribes in harmony for the entire time Falling Stones had been alive. A small, tan-pelted cat with large ears and far-seeing eyes, who seemed to know more about the future than any cat could ever predict. On the other side of the rock was an elegant, blue-pelted cat, with a white underbody and deep blue eyes who seemed to be able to talk any problem away as if it were a minor inconvenience. In the centre stood the biggest cat of the three, a powerful dark tabby with determined green eyes and a build suited for jumping from tree to tree and claws that could tear through pelts like air.
         The tan-pelted cat, Oasis Shores, was the Healer of the Tribe in the marshes and the rivers, whose cats who hardly feared the rushing currents and roaring waves that kept the other Tribes away from the water's edge. The blue-pelted cat, Frosted Leaves, was the Healer of the Tribe in the plains and light forests, where the Tribes were gathering now, whose cats could outrun even the fastest of hares that streaked through the open moorland. The dark tabby in the middle was Sparrow's Flight, the youngest Healer of the three, Healer of the Tribe in the pines and the heavy forests where sunlight would never reach, whose cats could stalk and ambush like no others.
         As the wind began to roar, the dark tabby looked over at the blue cat beside them. With a small nod, the dark tabby took a small step forward and began her yowl to the assembled crowd of silent cats. "Many of you know why we're here, most of you do not. For the past few moons, rogue cats have been encroaching on these very moorlands so many of you call home. Recently, they led an attack on the training Softpaws of the Tribe of Flowing Wind, killing many and leaving the rest wounded, whilst overpowering the Sharpclaws who were there to protect the training youth - the next generation of cats. These cats have not just led an attack on us, but they have led an attack on the next generation after us, and the cats who will follow in their pawsteps. A few Softpaws were able to find their camp undetected, and we have decided to put an end to their streak of cruelty. These rogues do not deserve mercy. These rogues do not deserve sympathy. These rogues do not deserve the ground they infest!"
         A rallying cry came up after her words, but as the silence settled, a younger white-pelted Sharpclaw Falling Stones vaguely knew as Dove's Feather spoke up with a quiver, "B-But Sparrow's Flight, you can't go with us... Don't you only have one life left? What happens if you die? What will happen to the Tribe?"
         Sparrow's Flight took a moment to think of her response, her green eyes closing before opening with the same firm confidence she always had when a challenge appeared in front of her. "Don't you also only have one life? Don't all the cats behind you only have one life? I will fight beside you as I have always done since I was a Softpaw, and I will die beside you if it so requires. Death looms in the air like the cracking of the thunder in the distance, it comes - and it will happen - but thunder does not last forever. Many cats will not go back to their Tribes at the end of the battle. Many cats will never see their kits or their kit-mothers again. Many cats will not be with us when the dust settles. But we fight in spite of this, we fight because of this. Our courage in the face of uncertainty is what makes us Sharpclaws."
Finally the blue cat stood up to talk, her blue eyes flashing as Sparrow's Flight took a step back. "The plan is simple. The Tribe of Flowing Wind will attack quickly, in several strikes, before the rogues know what's happening. The Tribe of Pouring Rivers will be the main attacking force, going through the main entrance of their camp. The Tribe of Shadowed Forests will ambush from all sides of their camp. Their camp is not small, and they have many cats, but none should be shown mercy. Our hearts are guided by the Tribe of Endless Hunting, and our claws by the vengeance for the fallen Softpaws! Now, may you all separate into your Tribes to get ready for the battle... And good luck, to all of you."
         As the murmuring finally resumed, Falling Stones got her first moment to talk to the cats she was sitting with since the speech began. Taking a mental note of their faces, the two tabby sisters seemed to be excited, but the other two cats were anxious as they whispered to one another. Falling Stones hardly knew what to feel, dread; excitement; fear; anxiousness? Finally, the cats began to peel away from one another, and Leaf Fall finally padded past her with a reassuring tailtip to the shoulder. Following with a grim mood in her mind, she entered the crowd of Tribemates with anxious faces and determined stares. Fate was in the air.


The chill of leaf-bare sunset tore into the Tribe's spirits like claws as they crouched in the underbrush of the shrubbery by the rogue's camp. The walk had been arduous and wet, hidden far away and in a crevice that no cat would have found if they had looked on their own. Lightning had begun its powerful assault on the mountain ranges that the lake nuzzled itself into, sending crashing noises into the air with every strike. The lowered clouds made seeing hard, but it had only helped with the Tribe's encirclement of the rogue camp.
         Falling Stones laid anxiously in wait for the screeches of combat and yowls of pain, the silence before the storm the scariest part of any fight she had been in. Time seemed to stretch itself to nothing as every movement distracted her, the rustle of the leaves, the twitch of rogues in front of her, the lash of lightning. Her paws barely felt her own as she tried to shelter them from the rain using her body, the rain rushing through her pelt easily and freezing her to the bone.
         A war cry broke the air, deafening and ringing as the sound of conflict began to spring into the air. The assault had started, now only the Tribe of Endless Hunting and her own claws could bring her to tomorrow. The rogues in front of her began to stampede forward, their paws ringing in her ears as they charged past to assist in the battle at the front of the camp. An almighty roar erupted beside her as her Tribemates began to filter out into the open clearing, slashing at the running rogues as confusion began to settle in. Falling Stones had no option but to erupt into the conflict, to do not so would leave her ridiculed and taunted when she got back to camp.
         Forcing herself into the open, Falling Stones saw death all around her. Cats were already laying on the ground, their eyes cloudy and faraway, Rushing Tides amongst those already fallen - his neck slit open to a bloody mess. At once, the reality of the situation dawned on her. This was hardly a border skirmish, where at worst a cat would have their ear cut or a shoulder bitten. This was a war. This was death. There was no courtesy here, only who was left. Rushing into the camp, she heard a scoff behind her as she turned on a dime to see what had caused the noise. A rogue gray she-cat had appeared behind her, their fangs barred and their claws out - their fur puffed up to twice the size of what Falling Stones guessed was their actual size.
         Throwing herself forward, Falling Stones saw the cat rear onto their hind legs to strike down onto her back. She darted to the side as the gray cat slammed down where she had once been, before throwing herself at their side as hard as she could. The two cats barrelled sideways, with Falling Stones getting a better exit from the move, poised to strike their side. She knew hesitation would get her killed. She launched herself at their side with savage flying claws, raking deep red lines into their underbody as their snarls turned to whimpers. Darting backwards, she saw the cat get up, and with a final savage snarl, dart away into the fog. She had won this fight, but it was far from over.
         "Well done on fighting off a cat hardly older than 12 moons, pretty." The disembodied snarl was right behind her as she whipped around to meet the voice face-to-face, her fur pressed down against herself meekly. Cats who estimated strength by size were always taken by surprise when doing this, expecting a smaller cat than who they were fighting. She quickly identified three cats, all seemingly littermates with the same black and white pelt with similar patterns. Darting her gaze from cat to cat, Falling Stones knew she had no chance in a three-on-one fight, and no chance to run from the larger cats.
         Suddenly, an explosion of dark fur slammed into their side, bowling one of them over with ease. The calmly confident green flash of eyes told Falling Stones all she needed to know. Sparrow's Flight had come to her rescue. She watched in awe as Sparrow's Flight began to fight in a rhythmic frenzy, slashing at their eyes with concise strikes and tucking herself neatly out of their claw's ways. They swung for her head, but she always ducked out of the way in time and followed it with a neat slash at their jaw. They swung for her neck, but she darted to the side easily and countered by yanking them off their paws. They swung for her sides, but she was already out of reach when their paws met where she was before.
         Finally, the dark tabby seemingly decided she had had enough. The first cat that struck at her found her head tucked neatly under their paws and her jaws flying for their throat. With a sharp snap of teeth and a brutal shake, the first cat lay motionless on the ground with red foam bubbling from a chunk missing out of their neck, desperately trying to breathe in air only to find their lungs and throat filled with crimson blood. The second and third cat both tried to jump on her at once, but they found her writhing between their paws like a live fish under an untrained Softpaw's claws. She elegantly slashed the first cat's eyes with her forepaws, before tucking her legs backwards and delivering 8 outstretched claws into the throat of the second cat. As the first cat writhed in pain, wailing from the agony of having their sight taken, the second cat fell limp immediately, their eyes staring out to somewhere no cat could ever see. Falling Stones finally launched herself forward at the writhing cat, sending her claws sloppily though their neck without the elegance of her Tribe's Healer. They collapsed to the ground in a wheezing mess of pooling blood, their agony stretched out by the sloppiness of her clawwork. Sparrow's Flight gave her a small nod, before diving into the raging fog as the sounds of battle slowly began to diminish.
         Finally free from the adrenaline pumping through her veins, Falling Stones began to run towards the diminishing sound of battle at what she guessed was the entrance to the camp. Dodging past the cat bodies and pools of blood that littered the ground, she found the battle slowly dying out as the Tribe's overwhelming numbers and better technique began to show. The rogues who refused to flee into the mountains were crushed under trained claws, and those who fought back hardly did enough to justify their sacrifice.


Spotting Leaf Fall, Falling Stones threw herself towards him in a wave of relief, tucking her head under his chin as she had wanted to do for a long time. He responded briefly but shook his head and mewed "Not now." She understood why as the fog began to clear and the clouds began to rise. Bodies piled the clearing, of both rogues and Sharpclaws. She could see Fern Shadow with her muzzle in the side of her sister's tabby pelt, wailing as Moon Shadow laid hazily in a pool of her own crimson life - her stare to the horizon and her body completely devoid of movement.
         She then began to move forward, Leaf Fall at her side as the wall of Tribe cats encroached further into the camp. She stepped over the body of Dove's Feather, their neck at a jaunty angle and their expression shocked, as if they had been assaulted and murdered by surprise. She knew she ought to have felt heartbroken, been scarred and whimpering from the sight alone, but she felt nothing. She felt nothing at all. All of this seemed like a dream, none of it could be real, she would wake up and be annoyed that she was on the dawn patrol but would get on with it anyway with Dove's Feather bouncing overenthusiastically beside them.
         Finally, the wall of Tribe cats seemed to meet the wall of remaining rogues, their leader - a night-black cat with a yellow stare that seemed sharp enough to cut more than any claw could - standing defiant as the two sides faced off against each other with snarls and barred teeth. Their cruel, cold voice was raised to a yowl as they addressed the Tribe cats, their face defiant. "You're nothing but weak... Weak peace-loving cats who are scared by their own power. You see a cat who can hold it and use it like me, and you get scared. You whimper and grovel to one another and hope the issue goes away. I won't... I won't ever go away, you hear me. I'll die before I admit defeat to you, and your pathetic Tribes."
         "No." The snarl of a cat rang out, cruel and cold beyond words. "You won't leave this valley." The proud figure of a dark tabby cat strode forward, her green eyes sharp and filled with hatred and disgust as the two leader figures began to stare each other down. "Fight, you pathetic excuse for a leader. You call us weak, and then run. You have seen what we can do, and you hid behind your rogues and let them die. Let's see you prove your worth. Face me."
         Finally, the black cat strode forward with anger-filled yellow eyes. The two cats faced each other for what felt like an eternity, their gazes locked, and their fangs barred. With an explosion of movement, the black cat threw themselves forward and the tabby cat to the side. Sending a claw to their flank, Sparrow's Flight flayed 4 narrow slits of fur from their side with ease as the rogue leader threw themselves to face her. They sent a claw to their face, missing barely, before making a twitchy move with one of their claws. In the split-second Sparrow's Flight was distracted by this claw, they sent a cheap shot into the dark tabby's ear, spraying blood to the clearing floor as she recoiled at once. She dived forward, before feinting to the side and barrelling both cats over with a fluid movement, before the black cat could find themselves a defensive position.
         However, the black cat recovered faster than the dark tabby liked. She found her paws easily, but not before looking up to greet the sight of a flying claw to her eye socket. Falling Stones looked on in fear as Sparrow's Flight's head snapped to the side, one of her eyes destroyed in a single move. Yet despite the angry snarl of pain the dark tabby cat screeched as half her sight failed at once, she used the momentum of the move to bite the black cat's outstretched forepaw, throwing them forward and diving onto their back. With one eye still working, she delivered slice after slice into the snarling and writhing cat's back until she was finally thrown off it by the black cat rolling forcefully to their paws. Crimson blood leaked from Sparrow's Flight's eye and her ear as her final life dribbled slowly from her cuts, her gaze still furious on the black cat.
         As both cats got to their paws again amidst snarls from both sides of cats, the dark tabby threw herself forward at once. Yet despite her flawless form, her claws came up short due to her lack of depth perception, the black cat dancing forward and landing a savage strike to the side of the dark tabby's neck. Yet, in a flash of her old form, the black cat underestimated the dark tabby's combat instinct. Two sets of claws nimbly cut into their side as the dark tabby threw herself, snarling, into a bloodlust rage with her last life leaking from several wounds in her pelt. Two claws to the eyes, two claws to the shoulder - the black cat staggered. They could hardly keep up with the dark tabby normally, and now they were getting their punishment back as their sight was flayed from them. They were knocked down by a powerful kick from the dark tabby's rear legs, their shoulder failing as they tried to get themselves up.
         With a roar of rage, Sparrow's Flight plunged her head down with her jaws wide open, straight into the black cat's neck. But she hardly bit down with any force at first. The black cat flailed, cutting at the dark tabby's shoulders and back desperately, but it was no use as Sparrow's Flight slowly increased the pressure. With a gurgling wail of defeat and pure fear, the black cat's screams turned from choking noises to the foaming of blood to nothing at all as Sparrow's Flight slowly but surely ripped the cat's throat out. Finally, she spat the chunk of flesh out of her mouth as the black cat's movements turned to twitching to nothing at all. She raised her head, her eyes feral and angry as she stared at the rogue cats with pure hatred.
         "Leave." Her one word was packed with enough malice to make Falling Stones flinch, and the rogues took it to heart. They slowly began to peel away and scamper like leaves in a storm, rushing away from the valley with fear-scent polluting the air itself. Yet finally, Sparrow's Flight began to sway as she stood in a pool of her own blood.


"Sparrow's Flight, no!" Came the wail of the tan Healer, their lithe form rushing forward as the dark tabby collapsed onto their side. "No, no, you can't!" Falling Stones felt herself sway at the unbridled emotion in the tan Healer's voice. To hear a cat who dealt with injury and death far more than any other cat this distraught over a cat's death was shocking. Then it dawned on Falling Stones who it was. Then she felt her paws barely able to support her. Leaf Fall immediately came to her side, propping her up as she stared with wide eyes at the tabby form of her life-long leader, dying slowly.
"We won, didn't we? We won. I... I'm proud of us... I'm..." The dark tabby's already weak voice began to trail off, and finally with a last shuddering breathe, the dark tabby went limp in the tan cat's paws. At once, silence rang the battlefield louder than any wail ever could. It was haunting. The whole world seemed to stop. And yet, in this valley, not far from the Lake, the invincible image of the Three Sisters was torn apart.
         Moon Shadow had died. Dove's Feather had died. Rushing Tides had died. Countless more Tribemates had died. Countless rogues had died. Sparrow's Flight had died.

All for a small valley by a Lake of cats.