Tawnykit was running. Again. The fluffy golden kit was trying and failing to blend into the landscape around her. She could hear yowls, caterwauling, and screeches in the distance, yet she was unbothered. Ever since the day of her birth she had been warned this day would come. The Great War between the clans. Every day she had spent, preparing for this. Escape. Her mother had told her. Run. Disappear. I will find you when it is time to return. When all is safe. When it’s over. Tawnykit squeezed her eyes shut, quickening her pace. Twigs and debris were getting caught up in her fur and scratching her skin but she didn’t notice. And then she crashed into something. Or rather, someone. Her eyes flew open and clashed with green ones. The sharp scent of Wishclan filled her nostrils. Tawnykit shrieked in terror, backing away quickly. “Don’t kill me!” She mewed desperately, before her vision cleared. Standing before her was an apprentice, no more than a few moons older than Tawnykit herself. His fur was a mellow brown with patches of darker brown here and there. And he looked just as frightened as Tawnykit knew she looked. He blinked at her, turned, and ran: disappearing into the forest, leaving Tawnykit with no inkling of who he was. The kit found shelter under a fallen tree. For days, it seemed, she waited. And when her mother at last came for her she returned to a camp nothing like the one she had left. Structures were torn down. Blood ran in streams, seeping into puddles. Dead bodies lay here and there. Kits. Elders. Warriors. And over half of the cats were lost. Laurelstar limped to the top of high rock. “One day. Wishclan will pay. But for now, we wait and grow stronger.” Tawnykit didn’t register any of this, nor hear it. Her eyes were fixed on a broken body in the dirt. “Daffodil...” she whispered in horror, looking at her sister’s form. Then the whole world seemed to crumble.
