5 Taken, 1 Fallen. | Ch 1

The night was heavy with crying. The yard — the only place that ever felt safe — felt like a ghost already.

I held Snickers close, her tortoiseshell fur warm but tense under my fingertips. I could feel her tiny heart pounding. My breath hitched as I lowered her into the cold plastic tub. I whispered, “I’m so sorry,” but the words felt empty as the stars overhead.

Faith stood next, arms wrapped around Aurora’s gray and white body. Aurora’s orange eyes glowed, wide and scared but soft when they met Faith’s. She stroked Aurora’s ear, whispering things I couldn’t hear, then set her beside Snickers.

David didn’t say anything — he just wiped his eyes on his sleeve, scooped Sabina up, and placed her in the tub with the other two. Sabina didn’t squirm. She just pressed her white paws to the edge, ears pinned back, eyes locked on mine.

The three of them curled together, sides touching, tails flicking in the moonlight as if they already knew they were meant to stay wild.

Dad and Audie didn’t say a word. They hefted the tub into the back of the Ford F150. The truck lights washed over our tear-streaked faces, over fur that should have stayed curled on warm blankets, never trapped behind cold plastic walls.

I stood there in the driveway, fists balled at my sides, wishing I could run after them — rip the tub open myself, tell them they could stay, they were mine, they were family. But the truck growled low, tires crunching gravel as it pulled away.

The night swallowed the headlights. The yard was too quiet.

Deep in the woods, the Ford rumbled to a stop on a narrow dirt trail surrounded by dark pines and wild brambles. The air smelled like old leaves and freedom.

Dad’s boots scuffed the dirt as he yanked the tub down. No words. Just the click of the lid popping free.

For a heartbeat, everything was still — just three small bodies pressed together, whiskers twitching, ears flicking toward the sounds they hadn’t heard in too long: wind through branches, the soft crackle of dry leaves, the wild heartbeat of the forest.

Then Snickers moved first — muscles bunched, eyes sharp — and she shot out like a streak of shadow, tail a banner behind her. Her paws hit the earth silent and sure.

Sabina scrambled next, claws scratching plastic, then the tub tipped and she tumbled out, landing on all fours. She hissed at the dark, but her tail lifted high.

Aurora hesitated. For a second, her orange eyes flicked back at Dad, at the headlights behind him. Maybe she remembered the porch light, the warm yard, the hands that fed her. Then she bolted — leaping from the tub so fast her fur brushed Dad’s boot as she passed.

They didn’t look back. They shot into the black underbrush, tails disappearing into the tangle of roots and ferns.

For a moment, Dad just stood there — the empty tub at his feet, the shadows swallowing up any sign they’d ever been there at all. He loaded the tub back in the truck. The engine turned over once, then roared to life.

The woods closed behind them, full of quiet pawsteps and three wild hearts that would never let themselves be caged again.

Somewhere in that darkness, Snickers lifted her head and let out a soft chirp, tail brushing Sabina’s flank. Aurora pressed close, her orange eyes catching the slivers of moonlight breaking through the canopy.

The forest had always been waiting. Now they belonged to it — and it belonged to them.

A Clan, not yet named, but already alive in every heartbeat that pounded under their fur.

The three queens disappeared into the shadows of the towering trees, their paws barely making a sound on the thick blanket of fallen leaves and moss. The cold air was sharp against their fur, but it smelled like freedom—wild and endless.

Snickers led, her tortoiseshell coat blending with the darkness. Her light brown eyes pierced the night, alert to every rustle and whisper. The forest was unfamiliar, yet it welcomed them—a sanctuary away from cold plastic and broken promises.

Sabina padded close behind, her white paws leaving gentle prints in the soft earth. The moonlight caught the light brown stripes on her fur as she glanced back, feeling the weight of the night and the sting of what they’d left behind.

Aurora, small but fierce, moved quietly beside them. Her orange eyes glowed like embers in the dark, reflecting both fear and fierce determination. She breathed deep, filling her lungs with the scent of pine and earth, knowing they were far from the yard that once held their warmth.

The trees loomed tall and silent as they ventured deeper, shadows wrapping around them like a cloak. For a moment, the only sounds were the soft thud of paws and the distant call of an owl.

Snickers stopped beside a fallen log, muscles tense but body calm. “This place,” she whispered, “this can be home.”

Sabina’s tail flicked thoughtfully. “It’s wild. Untamed. Like us.”

Aurora’s voice was soft but steady. “We’re not just running anymore. We’re starting something.”

The weight of those words settled over them like the cool night air. They were no longer just three lost cats. They were something new—something stronger.

The forest around them seemed to breathe in response, leaves rustling softly as if in agreement. Above, stars peeked through the canopy, their light a silent promise of hope.

Snickers nudged Sabina gently. “We’ll keep moving. Find a place to rest. Somewhere safe.”

Sabina nodded, her eyes shining with quiet resolve. Aurora’s ears flicked at every sound, alert and ready.

Behind them, the empty plastic tub lay forgotten beneath the trees, a cold reminder of the past. But ahead, the forest stretched vast and waiting.

Their claws dug into the earth, their hearts beat fierce and wild. Under the moon’s watchful eye, the three queens vanished deeper into the woods—free, unbroken, and ready to claim their new life. 

By dawn, the forest had wrapped itself around them like a promise. The queens pressed deeper through the undergrowth until they found a place that felt right — an old hollow beneath a fallen tree, roots tangled like protective claws around a clearing soft with moss.

Snickers was the first to step inside, tail high, light brown eyes scanning every nook. “This is it,” she breathed. “This is ours.”

Sabina padded around the edges, brushing her side against the thick ferns that would hide their scents. “We’ll be safe here. Hidden.”

Aurora hopped onto the fallen trunk, her orange eyes bright with wild fire. She glanced down at her sisters and let out a soft purr. “No walls. No cages. Just us — and this.”

They spent the early hours pawing leaves into nests, sniffing out tiny tunnels in the roots that would make perfect dens. Their scents mingled in the clearing, warm and real — the first piece of MoonClan woven into the earth.

But as the sun climbed higher, the forest stirred with new scents. Snickers was the first to hear pawsteps crunching through old leaves. She froze, ears swiveling, tail low.

Three toms stepped into the clearing’s edge like shadows pulled from the trees. Their pelts were rough but strong — rogues, but with that quiet grace that spoke of something more.

The first, a sleek black tom with a single white ear, flicked his tail in greeting. His eyes glowed pale green, sharp as bramble thorns. “Name’s Shadowthorn,” he rasped. “Didn’t think any cat was bold enough to settle here.”

The second, stocky and broad-shouldered with deep brown fur and a torn ear, padded forward a step. His yellow eyes watched Snickers, but there was no threat in them — just curiosity. “I’m Emberclaw. We’ve been tracking these woods for moons.”

The last tom lingered near a bush, tail tip twitching. He was gray with darker stripes crisscrossing his flanks like claw marks. His voice was softer, but steady. “And I’m Stonewhisker. Who are you three?”

Snickers lifted her chin, her fur bristling with pride instead of fear. “I’m Snickers. This is Sabina. Aurora. This place is ours now — our new home.”

Aurora’s orange eyes narrowed as she stood beside her sisters. “We’re not just loners anymore. We’re starting a Clan.”

Shadowthorn let out a low, surprised purr. “A Clan, huh? Just you three queens?”

Sabina’s tail flicked. “We’re enough to start. Unless you’re planning to chase us off.”

Emberclaw dipped his head, eyes glinting with respect. “Not here to fight. Just looking for something to belong to — maybe it’s you.”

Stonewhisker stepped closer, nose twitching as he took in the hollow and the scent of fresh nests. “MoonClan,” he said, the name soft on his tongue like a new oath. “If you’ll have us.”

Snickers glanced at Sabina and Aurora. Their tails brushed together in the moss, three wild hearts ready to trust.

“Then stay,” Snickers said. “Stay and fight with us. This place is ours now — all of ours.”

Above the clearing, the sun broke through the canopy, a single beam catching on the queens and their new brothers as they stood together — warriors, not loners. A Clan, just beginning.

Shadowthorn’s pale green eyes studied the queens, voice low and questioning. “You smell like kittypets — but you move like warriors. What’s your story?”

Snickers’s tail flicked nervously. “We were outside kittypets — always chasing the wind, climbing fences, running under porch lights. But it wasn’t enough.”

Aurora’s orange eyes flashed. “We pooped in the garden too much, and Alaina’s father and Audie didn’t like it.”

Sabina’s voice was soft but trembling. “They caught us. Stuffed us into tubs — plastic cages — to keep us from running.”

Shadowthorn’s ears flattened. “Tubs?”

Snickers swallowed hard. “Before the tubs, by the porch, Alaina’s father tried to grab Tabitha to put her in the tub. She was deaf and scared. She bit his hand.”

Aurora’s eyes glistened with tears. “He lost control. Pinned her down, put her neck under his knee... and killed her.”

Sabina’s voice broke. “We watched. Then they put the rest of us in tubs and drove us out to these woods.”

Emberclaw’s tail twitched. “And you escaped?”

Snickers’s gaze was fierce. “When they opened the tubs, we ran. The forest called us back.”

Aurora’s orange eyes burned. “We carry Tabitha’s memory. And Alaina’s love.”

Stonewhisker’s voice was gentle. “Alaina?”

Sabina nodded. “She was the youngest — the one who loved us most. She begged her father to stop. She cried for us every time.”

Snickers’s gaze softened. “She’s why we fight. Why we keep running.”

The forest whispered around them, alive with secrets and promise.

Together, queens and toms pressed close, sharing pain, love, and hope.

No more cages. No more tubs. No more lost sisters.

Only the wild. Only the Clan.

Only the moon to watch over them all.