LYSSA

One

The sun was at its highest in the sky, a flock of Canadian geese passing above the trees. Their calls and honks could be heard from miles away. A sleek black tom cat sat at the base of a tree, staring up at the geese. He wondered why they always left before the snow. Most of the birds around did. Not all of them, of course. A slight gust of hot air brushed through his fur, making him close his eyes in peace. He loved being outside and away from his clan. It was nothing really against them, he just preferred being alone. The warmth of the sun, the soft grass between his toe pads. He didn't have to worry about no kittens and no siblings that's for sure. Alistar thrived on this.

He heard a rustling behind him, which caused him to jump to his feet, his tail raised high. A small white and brown tom cat bounded towards him, his tail like an antenna. "Alistar, Alistar!" The cat yowled. The black tom sat back down in disappointment, curling his tail over his paws. He knew who this was. This was his sibling Bandit. He was five seasons younger than him, and even though they have the same parents, they look nothing alike. Bandit and his other sibling, Sombra, both take after their mother One-Toe. Sporting the brown tabby on them in some way. Alistar was an all-black cat. He was the odd one out, despite being firstborn within his own litter. Bandit skidded to a halt in front of the sleek tomcat, barely even catching his balance. "Shelby wants everyone for a meeting! She said it's important so don't even try to slink out of this one!" he meowed vigorously.

Alistar huffed and rolled his eyes. "Of course, she had to send you though?" he muttered under his breath. Bandit was too riled up to hear as he was already bounding back towards the forest. Alistar was sure to follow along not far behind him. He knew he could outrun Bandit, but he didn't feel like racing the younger.

As he ran and hopped along the forest floor after Bandit, he could smell a putrid stench lingering in the air. It most certainly wasn't death, but it also isn't good. He opened his mouth for a moment to draw in a breath and taste the smell some more. It smelled sick. Not like any sickness he'd ever smelt before. He's been around coughs and colds and upset bellies. He's been around rotten, spoiled meat. Those all had a defined scent. This one? He wasn't so sure. He's lived in this forest his whole life! And yet, this strange smell.

He shook his head as he made his way into a small clearing. There were thick bushes amongst the opposite edge of the clearing, that's where they dug their sleeping dens. A tall, thin black she-cat sat in the middle of the clearing as cats started to gather around her. A buff orange tom stood beside her, his tail flicking eagerly. Anxiously. It was the clan leader and their deputy, Shelby and Milo. Milo is Alistar's father, and his mother is One-Toe. Alistar loved his father and admired him for his bravery and strength. He was always proud to be the son of the cats who founded their home. The clan of cats has been living in the forest for many many seasons now, and Alistar has lived four winters in the woods. He knows how harsh it can get.

He moved everyone aside and went to sit across from Milo. They locked eyes for a moment, Alistar could tell he was anxious. He gave a reassuring head nod and squinted his eyes. Milo responded to the gesture by doing it back. Shelby raised her head high, proud to be the center of attention. Her tail curled tightly, neatly around her paws. She waited for all the cats to stop murmuring and talking amongst themselves. "My clanmates, we all know leaf-fall is coming soon. The colors are changing, the temperatures are dropping, the prey is getting scarce." That's when she pauses for a moment. "That's not really what I want to talk about." she mews slowly to herself. If Alistar wasn't upfront, he would have missed her saying it. "There has been a report of a. . . raccoon out and aboutSheshe slurred that name, looking over at the younger kittens. They may be a couple of seasons old, but they sure are irresponsible and immature still.

The pair of best friends, Sprout and Bandit, looked at each other with a glimmer in their eyes. Alistar knew what they were thinking already. It wasn't good. His tail tip flicked with annoyance, one ear darting backward as well. Sprout was such a bad influence on Bandit. Yes, they're kittens, but Sprout is three seasons younger than Bandit, and not even a Hunter-Gatherer yet! Alistar understands needing friends, but why did Bandit have to grow up with a cat-like Sprout?