Hello! This is Elaina, the writer/author of this book.

I happily bring you this Warriors Fanfiction. All credits for original ideas (Clans, cats, etc.) go to Erin Hunter. Characters and plot line in this book belong to me. I apologize if I have used any characters from original books.

Thanks for checking out my book! Be sure to comment, vote and share! Constructive criticism is always appreciated!!

Thank you, and enjoy the book!

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Paws quietly padded across the damp, grassy earth. The cats clustered around a small den, the many naturally darker pelts blending in with the night sky. Their eyes watched with anticipation, waiting for their leader to give them the word.

A brown tabby tom stepped forward. Around his neck was a faded and torn purple collar, which was a cruel reminder that they were no forest cats. They had left their human homes, tired of being treated like soft lap things meant to be kept for entertainment. He spoke. "Soul, we need to attack while she's still vulnerable." His voice was gruff, as if he wasn't pleased with this situation.

He spoke of the kit of roses, or commonly referred to as "NightClan's demise." It has been said that this kit would be more powerful than their ancient creator, Schism. At first, this would seem seem good, right? The cat of roses would make a wonderful addition to NightClan if she was as powerful as their fellow ally cats claim.

But there was a catch.

She was destined to destroy NightClan. The clan was created to get rid of the forest clans. Those clans were a nuisance in the forests that were once theirs. NightClan had planned to rid of the kit before it was too late, before she old enough to have the power to destroy them, so they could take back what was rightfully theirs. And they knew exactly where she was: ThunderClan.

NightClan and the forest clans had been enemies for countless moons, especially ThunderClan. Now more than ever.

"Soul, we need to attack!" The tabby repeated, but the grey cat inside payed no attention to the words spoken to him. Instead, he sharpened his claws on an old hawk bone.

"Soul!" He shouted once again.

He finally looked up, but his eyes were stilted. "Don't push me, Twig."

His fellow clanmates around him chuckled, and he flattened his ears in embarrassment. His actual name was Branch, but he was called Twig often to make fun of his smaller size. "S-Sorry, sir...."

Soul smirked and stood up. The clan instantly bowed their heads. Rows and rows of cats, all promising their life to him. Oh how he loved being in control.

"Three days time, at night. That's your attack."