plot.

[jessie.]

PLOT,

It was the Disaster.

It was the Disaster that brought them here. The cats, generations thereafter to be known as Shoreclan, did not come peacefully. They thought that once they had moved, away from the old forest, into the lake, they would have peace. They thought they were far away from the only threat that opposed them, the dark reign of twolegs. Twolegs, they thought, would be their only greatest adversary, and once they simply left in surrender, they would be fine.

How wrong they were.

Greencough is normal. Whitecough is common. Earaches, scratches, they're just a part of clan life.

Madness, however, is not.

Pure, utter madness is deadly. Nothing before have the clans experienced something like this; not in the old forest, not since they've settled by this beautiful lake. Cats have woken up foaming at the mouth, eyes red, snarling and destroying all in their paths. The first victim, a young, spritely male, thunderclan, of only 14 moons, was one of the kindest in the clans. Then, on one hunting expedition, he had suddenly caught it, and ran away, far far away from the Clan he had grown up around.

His clanmates had observed him acting quite strangely before, but nothing like this. You could hear his unearthly shriek all over the forest; and soon, the rest of the clans had caught it too.

The gathering was chaos. Only a tiny percentage of the once great clans had come, each arguing fiercely of what they should do. Deputies, leaders, all had gone- this sickness did not discriminate.

Bickering, bickering, seasons and seasons of peace have left the clans unguarded. They could no longer cope with another true threat, didn't have to, never had the chance, not since the days of the great Firestar. River turned against Wind, Thunder against Shadow, each blaming the other for this mysterious plague. They had no idea what to do, and what could they have done anyway? The four clans simply sat by and fought each other, until only a few remained.

The few that remained were a motley group of the elders, queens, moon-old kits, those who stood by and hid with frightened eyes as the stronger, older, more able tried to cope. They had no options, the lake was a bloodbath, corrupted cats waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting kit or elder. What could they do but run? So they gathered themselves up, joined by the other clans, and left.

The journey was not easy. They had nowhere to go. First, they tried the Tribe of Rushing Water. The tribe cats did not particularly like the clan cats, weak and bedraggled and useless as they were, but they cared for them. But the clan cats were restless. It just.. didn't feel right. So they left to try and seek guidance from Midnight, the badger. The badger, though wise, had no cure, and instead counseled them to move, far, far away, and try and start a new life.

So they went.

The beach was not perfect, but it would do. They made their home in a steep cliff of rock and set about exploring their surroundings, trying to put their past behind them. They had managed to settle well and create a new clan, Shoreclan, and try to abide by the warrior code as much as they can, but can they survive in an unfamiliar new world with infinite dangers and threats?

But even with infinite dangers, comes infinite possibilities. They are survivors. They are warriors. They are shoreclan, and they are FELIDAE MAXIMUS !