It is night when they come. There is an air of silence for the rest of the world as they arrive, howling and clawing like vicious wolves. The leaves of the mighty trees still as if the world is holding its breath until the creatures pass by. Their screeches pierce the air and their claws gouge the dirt. They are monsters and they know it.
Into the forest they go, ducking into den by den, retreating with a scrap of fur occasionally hanging from their jaws and their paws stained a rusty red. One leads the pack, crimson as blood, head held high, sly and proud.
No one knows where they come from, or when they will make a visit to the rest of the world. They live in solitude, hidden somewhere within the ravaged forest, always watching, always waiting. The creatures are the predators, the rest of the world their prey.
They call themselves pure. They speak of long ago times where winds almost demolished them. They are the survivors, the strongest of the bunch, the victors or the war against nature.
Everywhere they go, a raven follows. It is always close behind, carefully watching. It is unknown if it is their ally or enemy. These creatures are mysteries to us all.
No one knows who they truly are. Stories are simply passed along, sharing the horrifying news when they have been spotted. Everyone only knows one thing.
They are monsters.
Chapter One
A brown she-cat stood, facing a tumbling waterfall. The forest she was in was beautiful, laden with vibrant trees of different kinds and running brooks and streams. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, yet the sun did not beam down too brightly. Little critters chattered away in the bushes, birds sang as they swooped through the sky, and rabbits bounded away in the distance.
The cat looked down at the soft green grass curling over her white paws. It was unlike anything she had seen before. The only grass she had ever seen before had been burnt and yellow, it was what remained of the earth after the destructive event that everyone called The Dusting. Massive winds had come, destroying homes and killing many. It had been followed by days of flooding until one day they finally ceased, only to be followed by the earth shaking and rumbling. Many had perished in the terrible storms. The she-cat, Lark, had been a lucky survivor.
She had only been a kit when it happened. She could only just barely remember the absolute terror that had stricken her tiny body, and the sound of wailing. Her mother had whisked her away from the group of cats that they lived with and brought her somewhere safe- a Twoleg’s nest. There they had been safe, and her mother had told her countless stories of the mighty clans that had perished in The Dusting. She dreamed of the powerful warriors, wished that she had only gotten the chance to meet them.
Lark was positive that where she now stood was a dream. What grass could be this green and what place could be this beautiful in the real world? It was all too good to be true. And she had no recollection of ever seeing this place before. She was positive now. It had to be a dream.
The bushes suddenly rustled behind her, causing her to jump. Lark turned to see a slender black she-cat, her fur shimmering, weaving her way out of the branches.
“Who are you?” Lark asked, narrowing her amber eyes.
The black cat tipped her head, her green eyes shimmering. “I’m Ravenlily. I’ve come with a message for you.”
“What kind of message?” Lark asked, her voice harsh and grating.
Ravenlily stepped closer. “I know what you’re thinking. You don’t think that I can be trusted. Not everyone is automatically an enemy, Lark.”
Lark rolled her eyes. “You don’t know anything about me,” she said. “I just met you.”
“That’s true, but I can tell. This apocalyptic world that we are living in has made many cautious,” Ravenlily murmured. “Few are quick to trust strangers. But I assure you, you can trust me.”
Lark lashed her tail. “How can you prove that you’re trustworthy?”
“Look around. Do you know this place?” the black cat asked.
Glancing around quickly, Lark shook her head. “So?” she said. “How does that prove anything?”
Ravenlily’s voice was gentle as she responded. “This is a dream, Lark. We’re in Starclan.”
“Starclan doesn’t exist anymore,” Lark protested, narrowing her eyes. “It was destroyed when the clans were during The Dusting.”
Ravenlily shook her ebony head. “It was never truly gone. We will be around as long as the clans are.”
“But the clans are gone!” exclaimed Lark.
Ravenlily tilted her head. “Are they really? If you- a little kit- survived, then why couldn’t they?” she asked.
“So you’re saying that the clans are still out there?” Lark questioned. “They might not be. You could be lying.” Her voice wavered.
Ravenlily’s gaze remained even, her patience still intact. “Look at my fur,” she said. “I am a Starclan cat. Why would I lie?”
Lark peered closely at the black she-cat’s fur, noticing the tiny specks of stardust scattered throughout.
“I died saving my clan during The Dusting. I would do anything for them. But now, I fear that they are in danger. I have come for your help,” Ravenlily explained.
Lark frowned. “Okay, I believe you. But why me? How could I help?”
Ravenlily sighed. “You are my last hope. I needed a cat who has no knowledge of what the clans have become. Their situation is a bit complicated. Not many who know the truth would be so willing to help.”
“Why?” Lark asked. “What’s wrong with them?”
“They have just…” Ravenlily hesitated, “lost sight of the warrior code.”
Lark closed her eyes for a second, deep in thought. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, I can’t help you.
Ravenlily’s voice faltered for a split second, “B-but… you are our last hope. Please. Just think about it.”
Lark turned away. “I’ve made up my mind. Just because I believed you, doesn’t mean that I have to help you.”
“Lark. You have to help us,” Ravenlily whispered.
The brown she-cat spun around to face the starry figure. “I don’t know you. I don’t know the clans. I don’t owe you anything.”
Ravenlily opened her mouth to respond but Lark cut her off, “Don’t say anything. I’m not changing my mind.”
Lark shook her head to clear her mind and bounded away. The bright forest darkened, the green leaves wilting and turning to a muddy brown. The grass yellowed under Lark’s paws, and the chattering of birds stopped abruptly.
She turned to see if Ravenlily was still there, and just saw wisps of smoke dissipating into the air. Only her voice lingered behind, just a murmur, “You will help us.”
Lark plodded through the shriveled forest, trying to figure out what had just happened there. A rustle from the bushes made her jump.
A dirt-streaked figure strode out of the withered trees. Streaks of red gleamed from its muddy pelt and its green eyes glinted in the dim light. It stalked towards Lark, snarling and bared its teeth. Then everything went dark.
Chapter Two
“Lark. Lark, wake up.”
The sleeping cat opened her eyes to see a creamy white she-cat leaning over her, her green eyes just inches from Lark’s face.
She leaped to her feet, snarling, her brown tabby fur sticking up in tufts. “Bliss! What in Silverstreak’s name are you doing?” she spat.
The goofy look that occupied the white cat’s face faded away to be replaced by a look of concern. “Lark, you shouldn’t have said that. What if…” she trailed off.
Lark rolled her eyes. “You’re too superstitious. Calm down! It’s just an old kit’s tale,” she scoffed.
Bliss shook her head. “No, it’s not. My mother told me every night that Silver-… him…the king of the monsters-” she stammered. “-would come me if I ever said his name and rip me to pieces.”
“She was obviously just threatening you!” Lark exclaimed. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. There’s no such thing as monsters. Now calm down and explain why you woke me up.”
Bliss shook her long fur, as it would remove thoughts of the Monster King. “You were mumbling in your sleep,” she said. “I thought you were having a nightmare.”
“I’m fine,” Lark replied. “I had a strange dream, that’s all.”
“Oh really?” Bliss asked, settling herself down on the dusty ground. “What was it about?”
Lark sat down next to her. “Nothing much. There was a strange cat,” she said vaguely, avoiding Bliss’s gaze.
“You can tell me,” Bliss murmured. “I’m your best friend.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, deep in thought. “I don’t remember much anyways.”
Bliss peered at her friend. “Are you sure? You seem a bit off.”
Lark stood up suddenly. “I said it’s nothing!” she snapped.
Bliss’s eyes widened and she shrunk back. “Okay,” was all she said.
Before either cat could say anything else, a dark grey shape pushed its way into the holly bush den they called home.
“Stormy!” Bliss exclaimed.
He dropped a scrawny squirrel onto the forest floor. “Sorry, this is all I could find,” he said, patting it with a white paw.
“It’s more than I could find yesterday,” Bliss reminded him. “I only got a tiny vole, no bigger than one mouthful each.”
“Well, it was a good mouthful,” Stormy said, brushing his tail across her shoulders.
In the corner, Lark rolled her eyes and put her head down on her paws.
Stormy and Bliss sat down to eat. The fluffy white cat glanced over her shoulder. “Lark, come have some,” she invited.
Lark rose to her paws. “No, I’m just going to go out by myself.”
“Are you sure?” Bliss asked, narrowing her eyes in concern.
“Positive,” Lark said, stalking out of the den.
Just as she was leaving, she heard Bliss and Stormy murmuring to each other.
“Is she alright?” That was Stormy.
Bliss’s answer came only a moment later. “I don’t know. Something seems to be bothering her but she won’t tell me anything.”
Lark growled under her breath. She was fine. Wasn’t she?
She knew the strange dream had bothered her a little bit. But that’s all it was. It was just a dream, a strange one but nonetheless a harmless dream.
As she headed out into the dead trees, she tried not to let it bother her too much. At first with hunger gnawing at her stomach, it was easy. But then as she caught a whiff of prey and looked around wildly for it, she spotted a raven perched on a tree branch.
It let out a few caws, an odd sort of song. Its beady eyes were firmly fixed on her, unblinking, unmoving.
Lark turned away, the eerie raven sending shivers up her spine. The few leaves left on the bushes rustled all around her and she spun around trying to see if perhaps Bliss or Stormy decided to follow her.
What she saw instead made her blood run cold. A blood-soaked paw poked out from behind a tree. She noticed instantly that the paw matched the monstrous figure that came after her in her dream.
Before she could see whomever the paw was attached to, Lark fled.
Chapter Three
She was lost. In all of her life, in all of the time that she had lived here in this very forest, Lark had never gotten lost. But here she was, the trees surrounding her, unfamiliar and strange. The sun beamed bright and strong above her, the light blinding her as she stumbled through the woods.
Her coat dripped with blood, brambles and thorns still tangled in her fur. With the speed with which she had fled, Lark wasn’t surprised. She’d dashed through the thickest undergrowth, so desperate to get away from whatever monster lurked in the shadows, that she paid no attention to where she was going. For the brave face she usually put on, inside she was a coward.
Lark stopped in the middle of a small clearing, completely out of breath. As she glanced around, she couldn’t stop panting. Her panic rose as she released that she recognized nothing around her. Where could she be?
When she was only a few moons old, her mother had taken her on a journey around the whole forest. Even though Lark had stumbled every few steps and her legs ached and trembled, she had loved the journey. Her mother had told her that it was so important for her to know her way through the woods.
Lark loved her mother dearly, from her very first memory of milky warmth to her mother’s dying breath as she died peacefully in her sleep. But there was one thing that she couldn’t stand as much as she hated to admit that she disliked anything about her mother. Just like Bliss, Lark’s mother was extremely superstitious.
As she had taken Lark on the journey through the woods, she had sworn that she once saw a hideous monster hidden deep in the trees. That was why she had taken Lark out to learn the forest. She needed to know how to avoid the monsters.
Lark had thought that it was ridiculous. But she loved her mother so she went along with it. She knew that monsters weren’t real. It was just a load of foxdung, created by some worrywart mother somewhere who couldn’t get her kit to sleep. Now she knew she was wrong. There was something out there. And it was determined to get her.
Lark’s stomach grumbled loudly. She really should have taken Bliss’s offer of food. A whiff of mouse drifted by, caught on a breeze, though it was slightly masked by something else- a strange, tangy, metallic scent.
Her hunger outweighed the dangers of following the odd smell, so she stalked off in the direction of the mouse. The smell of the mouse got stronger the further she went into the bushes, but so did the weird stench, at some points overpowering the sweet smell of the mouse.
Still, Lark thought, if there’s something strange going on, she should probably investigate. She crept through the trees until the reek become overwhelming. Then she saw it.
Sitting just footsteps away from her was the mouse. It had been ripped almost in half and was drenched in blood and some other foul-smelling liquid.
Lark stepped away frantically, gasping, trying in vain to get the hideous stench out of her nose. The smell was making her dizzy, so she shook her head, attempting to clear it.
She stood there for a moment, wondering what the strange smell could be. She had some ideas. When she was a kit, there had been a loner who had stepped in a sticky, green substance. Her mother wouldn’t let her know most of the details, but all she knew for sure was that he’d licked it off, assuming it was harmless. She never saw him again. She'd figured that he had died. The liquid on the mouse smelled a little bit like that.
In her curiosity to figure out the slaughtered mouse situation, Lark didn’t hear the slight rustle of the bushes behind her. She was so close the the mouse that she couldn’t notice the scent of an unknown cat wafting through the air. She stared at the bloody carcass so intently that she didn’t see the claws slashing at her face until the paw was already swinging. And by then, she was too paralyzed in fear to move.
Lark tumbled to the ground, blood pouring into her eyes, blinding her. Through the red haze, she could see a brownish red paw swiping at her again so she scrambled out of the way.
Shaking the drops of blood from her face, the brown tabby struggled to her paws. A hulking reddish monster loomed before her, mud and leaves marring his pelt. He looked to be in such rough shape that she wasn’t sure that if she came across him again and he was clean, she’d be able to recognize him.
He growled at her, his teeth dripping blood. A rage filled Lark, as she realized that her mother and Bliss were entirely right about their superstitions. All those times she’d rolled her eyes at her mother or made fun of Bliss started to weigh heavily on her.
With a yowl, she launched herself at the beast. She landed on his back and started tearing at his fur, ripping it with such fury that bare patches of skin started to show. The monster howled in agony, rolling over, nearly smushing Lark in the process.
She rolled out of the way swiftly, just narrowly avoiding the crushing weight of the beast. She leaped back to her paws and turned, snarling at the red monster. With a grunt and a shake of his bloody head, he backed away slowly, turning the nearby bushes crimson and muddy.
Lark just stood there, staring in shock at where the monster had disappeared. Now she knew what she had to do...talk to Ravenlily.
