[abandoned] Warriors: Forgotten Clans of the Mountains

Prologue - A Nighttime Meeting

A cold breeze blew over the DustClan-IceClan border carrying the first signs of Leaf-Fall & Leaf-Bare. A lone warrior stood on the border, blue eyes turned to the sky. The cream-colored tom watched the stars with kit-like wonder. Scruffystar had told him one night that each star was a warrior ancestor, watching over them and guiding their pawsteps. The idea of long-dead cats, cats he had never met, were watching over him had been in his mind since that night.

"Lightwing," a voice hissed from the DustClan side of the border, and a nearly pure black tom was sitting on top of a rock, fur gleaming in the moonlight. Lightwing had long been jealous of his friend, with his long legs and sleek fur, although he would never admit it.

"How long have you been here, my dear?" The curly-furred warrior asked, padding closer to the rock as his friend leapt down and stalked towards him, yellow-orange eyes not blinking.

"Not long," the DustClan warrior responded, his tongue quickly rasping over Lightwing's ear in greeting. "You're looking well, a bit heavier," he teased, a small paw giving him a playful nudge in the stomach. Lightwing opened his mouth to respond but froze, fluffing out his curly fur, feeling self-conscious. "I'm teasing," his friend said, flicking his long tail over his ears.

"I'm very pleased you were able to meet tonight," Lightwing murmured, his body relaxing. "I'm afraid I've made a horrible mistake."

"I'm sure it's not that bad. You're, you know, you Lightwing. You're incapable of doing wrong."

"I assure you, it's very horrible. I'm... I've... Well, you see," he hesitated, pawing nervously at the ground beneath him.

"Out with it already!" Snaketail hissed.

"As of three days ago, I am the proud father of three she-kits. Lovely kits, quite lovely, and healthy. I'd be lying," he paused for a moment. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I was proud of them."

"You what?" Snaketail let out a mrrow of laughter. "You? You got a she-cat pregnant?"

"Yes! I'm afraid I've fallen in love. Not only with the she-cat and our kits, but with all of IceClan." Lightwing watched Snaketail nervously, afraid he would tell him off, call him a flea-brain for falling in love, but he didn't.

"I'm quite fond of the cats of DustClan... Of all the Clans really."

"We can't go through with the plan!"

"Frog and Fly won't let me step down, they're determined to bring their cats here."

"What if the Clans left?"

"Left?"

"Yes! We convince them to leave, find new territories. Then our groups can come live in the valley, no one dies!"

"Cats will still die, Lightwing!" Snaketail protested. "How can you not see that? My cats come in and your cats come in, unaware of each other wanting the same valley, and they will fight to the death over the land."

"Oh," the cream tom murmured. "Oh, I suppose you're right. You usually are. What can we do?"

"We have to figure out how to stop Fly and Angel, simple as that. I'll talk to you at the Gathering. It's only a few days away."

"I'll try to think of something by then... I'll see you then." The IceClan warrior turned towards his territory, hurriedly padding across the border again.

"Lightwing?"

"Yes, Snaketail?"

"What are the names of your kits?" Lightwing turned towards his friend, letting out a proud purr.

"Graykit, Squirrelkit, and Leafkit," he said happily.

"Lovely names. I hope to meet them someday."

"I'll see you at the Gathering, my dear." Snaketail watched his friend race across the border and towards the river, his pelt standing out against the greens and browns of the plains. Where will you go Snaketail, if the time to leave comes?