The Garden

00 - Prologue
A  she-cat pads through the gardens of Twolegplace, her collar jingling loudly as she leaps from one dry place to another, avoiding the rain puddles.

Her destination is a certain garden, owned by an old yellowish-looking Twoleg with hair on his face. He always feeds the she-cat, so she trusts him.

He will not be out tonight, she knows it, because he has not gardened since the light went of his eyes for the last time. She was the witness.

She stays away from the forest, which holds horror beyond her wildest imagination, and keeps close to the fence. At one point, she sees desperate eyes peering from the depths of the deep darkness, and she stares back.

The she-cat nears the garden, which still has the wonderful smells being emitted from it.

She climbs the fence with her claws easily and stands on the top for a heartbeat before leaping into the garden.

As she pads along the various pots scattered across the garden, the moonlight falls on one that held a plant that she favored.

She looks at the pot again and is suprised to find something strange.

The bamboo is growing again.

A  tom is alarmed. His eyes are wide with fear as he watches his mate give birth, her body convulsing over and over as the kits are squeezed out.

"Please hurry up," he mutters, staring into the forest towards the ThunderClan camp. If they don't find the kits first, they can still be saved.

He looks back to his mate, who has stopped convulsing, and the kits are suckling.

One is much too small.

01 - Introductions
L  ife is beautiful.

It always has been, of course, I'm a very positive cat.

Things have changed, of course. When I was a kit I could only scratch, and now I can kill. As an apprentice, I could only demand to be heard, but now I can expect to.

For whatever reasons, I am now at the top of my Clan, the highest position of power in the forest. It meant assassinating the old leader and putting the deputy out of power by getting to the Moonpool before him. That night was marked with the death of that deputy, too.

I have not chosen a deputy, but I do have a cat that sticks by my side, and that is my apprentice, Marshpaw.

"Jaggedclaw," he says to me now, "what are you going to do with her?"

My name is Jaggedclaw. I am the leader of ShadowClan, the most powerful Clan in the forest and the current housers of six prisoners. It used to be seven, but an older one died. I never knew her name.

The other prisoners look on with tired, sad eyes. I can see their bones through their fur, which is sagging, and they are shivering.

"Is there a problem?" I spit at the youngest, a mere apprentice from the look of it.

"No," the prisoner squeaks. He scurries away from me, back into the den, which smells of dirt.

"Leave it here," I correct Marshpaw. "It was a prisoner. It doesn't matter if it was male or female. Remember that from when you are leader."

Marshpaw nodded. "It can be a reminder for those who try and escape," he suggests.

"Yes," I agree, and for a heartbeat I feel a surge of pride that my own apprentice has thought of that. "Get another guard," I tell him, "and meet me outside my den."

With another look at the prisoners, I spit at the guard, "And don't feed them. They're too plump."

The guard nods to me with an alarmed look and settles into a sitting position. He knows that, with the prisoner's current strengths, they could never escape.

I pad back to my den, where Marshpaw is already waiting. "Did you do what I told you?" I ask him.

"I was going to ask you if you thought Stoneclaw was better suited for the job than Weedtail."

I struggle. Who are Stoneclaw and Weedtail?

With a patronizing look, I ask, "Who has always been the extra guard?"

"Well, Weedtail has," Marshpaw stutters, "but Stoneclaw just killed that ThunderClan cat in a battle, remember? He's getting stronger-"

"If Weedtail always has been, then he is the guard," I tell Marshpaw.

Marshpaw nods obediently and rushes away.

I don't mind. I need time to think.

M  y dream is just as scary as usual.

I dream of the prisoners, whose bones I can see. I dream of the many cats I have killed. I dream of the slave cats I have made work for me for moons.

As I wake up, gasping, I come to a scarier conclusion: I cannot live without the prisoners, the killing of cats, and the slaves. I depend on them to keep me in power, and they depend on me to keep them well-fed.

It's a one-sided promise, however, I have never promised them food.

However, if I don't keep them, I will be killed.

And that is very much the truth.

T  he next morning, I say nothing about my dream to Marshpaw, but tell him to start giving cats directions. He knows what needs to be done- as long as I am fed, it is a productive day.

As a cat approaches me with a mouse, I snarl at him. He drops the mouse quickly and scampers away.

Marshpaw approaches with a reddish tom beside him, who smells of ShadowClan. Marshpaw picks up the mouse and moves it closer to me.

"This cat has a little problem," Marshpaw tells me.

The reddish tom squeaks and clears his throat. "M-my kit is a runt," he whispers.

I glare at Marshpaw. "Get whoever is in charge of runts to me, now."

"Robintail," Marshpaw tells me, staying in place.

"Don't defy me!" I snarl.

"This is Robintail," Marshpaw tells me calmly.

"Good," I say, retaining my good nature once more. "Robintail, bring your runt to ThunderClan and see to it that they take him in."

Robintail sighs. "I'll do that, Jaggedclaw."

I continue, "And, Robintail?"

He starts. "Yes?"

"Give them a little message for me." I recite it.

"Yes, Jaggedclaw." Robintail scampers away.

"Good job, Marshpaw," I praise my apprentice. "Now get going, that pile of fresh-kill for the Clan looks a little too large, doesn't it?"

''Coming up... Messenger!''