Stolen (Book 1 of the Outcast Quartet)

Prologue

A large black tom crouched on top of a small cliff that over looked a small clearing. his tail flicking eagerly, beside him, crouched five other cats. All six of them stared intently down into the small clearing where multiple cats were preparing for their morning duties. The black tom looked up at the rising sun, the sky was streaked crimson and the tom smiled a cruel vicious smile. It was a sign; on this day, much blood would be spilled. He unsheathed his claws and sunk them deep into the ground, his muscles rippled under his sleak pelt as he flexed them in anticipation. The dawn patrol had now left; this would be the time to strike. When there weren't as many enemies around. With a blood curdling screech, the tom leapt off of the cliff, easily landing in the middle of the clearing, the rest of the cats following. Startled yowls rushed through the unprepared cats, his tail lashed and he leapt onto the nearest cat. It was a dark ginger tom, and all around him; his cats started fighting against their enemy. He let out a crazed cackle as he dug his claws deep into the tom’s flank. He screeched in pain and he released him, only to slam his claws down into the back of the ginger cat’s head, the tom gasped before collapsing to the ground.

            “Is that all you got?” the stronger cat taunted, his tail swishing eagerly. “This is hardly worth it.”

            He glanced up, his followers were badly outnumbered and despite their immense strength, they were being beaten. The black tom brought his paw down onto the tom’s neck, pressing it down threateningly. “Where are your kits!” he hissed loudly, the camp falling silent. “Bring out your kits or he gets it.”

            The enemy warriors shifted worriedly, unsure, before giving in. A slim ginger-and-white she-cat made her way to a well fortified den and brought out two small kits, a brown she-cat and a dark ginger tabby tom. The mother, a brown-and-ginger she-cat, followed. She was protesting angrily, that they were her kits and that they didn’t deserve what would happen to them. A plump silky furred she-cat followed, her eyes filled with both worry and relief.

            “Place them in front of me,” the tom commanded, by now his cats had returned to his side. “Let me see them.”

            With great reluctance, the ginger-and-white she-cat pushed forward the two terrified kits. The brown one was a sickly looking thing, with rather pale and ruffled fur. Her green eyes were large and dull, proof that she had recently fought an illness and barely won with her life. The other on the other hand looked healthy with fluffy dark ginger kit fur that reflected his health. His eyes were a deep, dark gold. They appeared to be around a moon old, the brown kit much smaller than her age while the ginger was unusually large. He would make a strong warrior one day. “In exchange in your warrior’s life, I will take this ginger tabby!” he snarled.

            Outraged yowls rippled through the small clan, many warriors made an attempt to jump him, but his own followers easily pushed them away. “Is this tom's life not worth it?” he called, silence followed his words. “Hand over the kit, and I will let this tom live.”
            The mother of the kit stepped forward, pain glowing in her eyes. “Take him…” she chocked out. “Just, don’t harm him.”

            “Why would I harm such a strong kit?” the tom scoffed and he signaled for the smaller of his assembled forces, a black she-cat who looked to be around eight moons. She stepped up to the kit and picked him up, he protested slightly, before going limp. The kits gaze wondered helplessly towards his Clan mates. He let out a sad, lonely cry as he was carried away.

            “Thank you for the business,” the black cat laughed.

            “Now, let her go,” the clan’s leader snapped. “Let him up.”

            “Not until they’re gone,” the tom hissed, his gaze following his apprentice who was now being lead away by another cat who had been waiting in the shadows the entire time. His blue eyes glowed triumphantly when the two left the camp. Smiling, he forced the tom over onto his back, exposing his soft throat.

            “NOOOO!” the leader cried as he brought his claws down against the tom’s throat.

            “I just promised I wouldn’t kill him, not harm him,” the tom laughed, his smile widening. “Thank you for the business.”

             Yet again, chaos burst out as cats began to fight again. The black tom pranced about, laughing as he fought against his foes. His flank was bleeding heavily, his heart beating fiercely with adrenalin. He heard a roar from behind and whipped around to face the ginger-and-white she-cat as she charged him. Her claws fully unsheathed, she leapt, meaning to deal a killing blow. The tom easily sidestepped the enraged she-cat, and while she stabilized herself, he smashed his claws into her shoulder. She stumbled falling sideways and exposed her soft underbelly and throat. Grinning, the tom ripped his claws down her belly. She cried out painfully, blood seeping out and her white patches turning red.

            “Retreat!” the tom called out, satisfied with the damage he had dealt on this small Clan. “Retreat!”