Warrior Games

Chapter 1: The Reaping

The moon hung high in the sky, silver rays shimmering on the surface of the lake. It was a calm, peaceful night. Up until one were to travel to the island. Clustered into as much available space as possible were far more cats then had ever been settled there before. 

Some were murmuring among each other, others were too afraid to open their mouths, others were staring anxiously up into the leaves of the great oak that nearly blotted out what parts of the moon that the oncoming clouds weren't. 

Among the roots of the tree was four cats. Usually, they were not the ones to sit there, but their captors cared not about what was usual. Those four cats were surrounded by stoic, battle-scarred cats that only scowled at the crowd around them. 

There were many cats like that, situated in a ring around the forest cats as a form of fence. It definitely deterred most cats from trying to run away. Those that had failed to been deterred either now sported a patch of crimson on their pelts or, like one of the ShadowClan elders, laid on the pebbly shore as waves patiently lapped away at the blood spilling from split throats. 

Sitting in the highest branches in the oak tree was a sandy-brown tom, a malicious grin crossing his face as he observed the cats beneath him. His brownish-red pelt was thick, broken up by white patches and scars. 

"Why, hello there, my lovely clan cats." The air briefly filled with low growls of anger. Even in the dim moonlight, it was easy to see the spiked up fur and bushed out tails that lashed along the damp ground. "Thank you all for joining me tonight."

"Now, I know that many of you are concerned. I know that many of you don't quite understand the situation. It's new to wild cats like you." Some of the growls grew to snarls. "Not many of you quite understand our culture, our way of doing things. And, as your new leader, I wish to change that."

Only the youngest cats present considered the implication to be even somewhat pleasant. 

"From this day fourth, every twelve moons, four cats from each clan shall be selected at random to participate in a pageant of sorts. This island shall be used for that purpose. Those cats will be treated to several days of training and interviews. After that time is over, the chosen cats will be placed into an arena where they must fight and survive until there is only one cat remaining!"

Yowls of protest and terror pierced the night. The sentries snarled at the crowd of cats, their leader's smile turning into a snarl at the sight.

"Would you rather me kill you all!?" The tom snapped, effectively silencing the yowls. His eyes raked over the crowd once before his malicious smile returned and he continued explaining. "As I was saying, this pageant shall be displayed everywhere, in puddles and certain bodies of water.

"Now. The Reaping is tomorrow morning, a little after sun rise. Your clan leaders will be waiting for you here. They will be allowed to return to the clans after tomorrow's Reaping. Oh and make sure you look your best! Wouldn't want your neighbors to think you're completely wild animals!" The tom waved his tail and jumped off his branch. The sentries that had been surrounding the clan cats before moved aside, allowing the cats to leave using the tree bridge.

Several cats bowed their heads or closed their eyes as they passed the soaked corpse of Snaketail. 

The clans were slowly herded to their camps. Most hung their heads, tails dragging in the dirt, or desperately looked to the stars for some form of hope. 

 - Dovewing -

Dovewing yawned. The familiar scent of the ThunderClan warrior den greeted her, stray rays of sunlight warming the moss nests near the entrance. Dovewing smiled, her body arcing as she stretched on her side. The den was incredibly spacious, so she wouldn't have to worry about waking up her clanmates or stepping on someone's tail.