#cherryear

They'd finally made it out. When the humans had come again with their cars and kennels, they had known it was their only chance to escape being under the control of owners again- several of them had come from the shelters and did not wish to return there to sit and wait for who knew how long, just to perhaps end up in a similar situation. Tucked amongst the rubbish and layers of garbage and papers, they waited... a door opened, the people spoke, windows cracked open. Charlie bolted, and the others followed. Some got grabbed, some hesitated, some realized they feared outside more than the humans.

In the end, 8 of them met up in the midday light under the shrubs and caught their breath- freedom. Don laughed in relief but Charles cut him off with a sharp look. "We're not in the clear yet," The black and white tom warned, "We're out of the house but we still need food, water, a place to sleep." The group shuffled their paws and murmured agreements. Cherry, a huge tom with spiked cream and sandy brown fur spoke up, calm and collected. "We could join the wildcats- the clans I they call themselves? I know they usually accept fresh blood." When cast questioning glances he continued, "I used to speak with a few of 'em, through the window."

Charlie's fur bristled at the mere idea of being under the orders of another. "No." His tone was sharp and final, "No, why join them when we can make our own? True freedom. Follow me, and we'll be safe."

With nowhere else to go, the group of cats travelled away from the suburbs and towards the hills and farmlands. After a few days they had found an old hare warren that gave them a place to settle and moors to hunt and explore. To the south, in the shrublands, was Heatwaveclan. To the west, in the farm fields, were the kittypets that called themselves Chinchillaclan. To the north, in the sparse forest and brambles, was Shrikeclan.

Settled in the flower fields and rolling hills, Warmclan was created.