The dark tortoiseshell padded forwards, ears swiveling towards every sound, ears flat against the skull and teeth bared to form a questioning snarl; multicoloured fur was spiked out in every direction, paw steps falling slowly as green eyes scanned their new environment.

A rustle in the trees caught the feline's attention, the dark tortoiseshell watching with narrowed eyes as a slim dark grey tabby slipped out from under the undergrowth. The new arrival appeared to be built for running, with his narrow legs and scrawny frame. His fur was short, puffed out like he'd just woke up.

The tomcat bowed his head - a custom within the Clans, to show they meant no harm - before beginning to speak. "Hello, Rookdawn. We've been waiting for your arrival; we've been told you can help us with out situation."

The other feline tilted their head, confusion clearly evident on their face. "What situation, first off. Secondly, who is Rookdawn?"

The grey tomcat shook his head, muttering something under his breath before explaining. "The Clans have become too destructive, destroying both their land and themselves in a pointless quest for power. We've been told to take care of this problem under any means necessary. All the others have already arrived; we were just waiting on you." He paused here, letting out a sigh before continuing.

"Rookdawn was a member of one of the four Clans below; she was a stray for most of her life, deciding to join within three moons of her death. She was a very ambitious warrior, very dedicated to protecting her newfound home. She had no mates, no kittens; she didn't take to learning healer skills very well, and had a way with words.

"Rookdawn was supposed to live longer; she was supposed to raise a family, train an apprentice, tell elder tales to all of the kittens before dying peacefully in sleep. That all changed when the Clans converged onto one another, basically throwing all of our ancestor's plans out the window.

"All of us, we were told we could've had a second chance at life if we fixed our former home's problems now. We were told our lives got cut short, to fulfill the Clan's leader's need for land, food, and blood.

"So that's what were gonna do with your help, Rookdawn."

The tortoiseshell looked shocked at the other's words, green eyes wide. "But I'm not Rookdawn; my name is Sunny!"

The tomcat turned and trotted to the forest, flicking his tail, pausing at the treeline to wait for the other feline. When the tortoiseshell caught up, he broke into a run, weaving in and out of trees, stopping a while later in front of a lake.

He turned back to face his confused companion, nodding his head to the lake's clear waters that were gently lapping at the shore. "Drink the water," he said, before retreating form his spot at the shoreline.

His companion padded up to the water, glancing at it before hesitantly lapping at it. Immediately their eyes widened, their form falling onto the pebbles by the water's edge. "I remember!" they choked out.

Images flashed through their mind, of screaming and fighting and blood; so much blood it flooded the forest and drowned its residents. The screams and the flow of blood never ended, the fighting had made sure of that.

"Do you understand now?" the tomcat asked gently, resting the tip of his tail on the other's shoulder.

They nodded in response, "I do indeed."

"Then come along, we have may things to discuss."