It was cold, always cold in leaf bare. But the one that almost whipped us out was more brutal than all the others. Every clan suffered great losses those frozen moons. Barely any prey, nothing to protect us from predators.... That last gathering was our last at the lakes...
A taller, older graying black tom stands on the freezing flat rock that his ancestors used moons and moons before him to share the news of his clan. Beside him stands a smaller, scrawny light brown tom who misses his left eye. On the other side is the last of her clan, a once beautiful silver tabby now destroyed by grief and hunger. The few cats that were still alive did not care about allegiances and huddled for warmth. Looking up at the three living leaders for the news, the decision on what they were going to do.
"Cats of Moorclan, Timberclan and Streamclan." The black tom starts. "We are no longer three clans."
"We are one," The other tom puts in.
"And tonight, our journey to a new home begins." The she cat states meekly.
The decision made by Ravenstar, Valleystar and Miststar was made moons ago; however not many cats officially made it to the new territory. The only leader to make it was Valleystar, and under his unfortunately short leadership the living cats managed to secure a home on the border of a forest and moorland, split by a tiny stream. Naming this new clan Valleyclan after the leader who helped keep them in line, the son of deceased leader is now looking for new members to repopulate his father's legacy.
