#the union

Modern cats would not hesitate to refer to these former Clans as little more than gangs that were constantly at each other’s throats, to the point of requiring a special Warrior Code that dictated how they interacted with each other and prevented total extinction of any particular Clan. That Code did little to stop their infighting, especially when it came to the neutral lands of the Valley itself. The Aspects were prayed to not for fortune and health, but for ill to befall enemies and for land to be conquered and devoured like a piece of fat prey. There was rarely, if ever, a moment of peace not dampened by tensions that escalated all too quickly over the smallest things.

Something needed to be done.

That something was delivered by StarClan, who, legend says, came down directly to the Clans during a Gathering where war was threatening to break out. A beautiful, pale molly, who we now know as Leasere, landed gently atop the stone where the leaders sat and argued, raised her head, and said, simply,

“This fight will be your last. Unite, and prosper.”

The visit from a heavenly cat, so old that her warrior name was lost even to her, startled the arguing Clans into silence. Leasere sang a vision to all, a vision of kittens of all shapes and sizes running together, of queens whose ancestors came from opposite sides of the Valley sharing a meal, of a single, great Clan that ruled all the territories that had banded together and worked to find peace and happiness as a unit. There would be no battling for land, no scars or deaths from another cat’s claws.

“We will care for you,” Leasere said. “We will bless this Valley with more prey than you could ever eat, and more herbs to heal your aches and illnesses than any master of medicine will ever need. It will take all that we have in us, but we will give it to you, if only you set aside your differences and work for peace. There will be one Clan, the mightiest and happiest, and one Territory that all will rule. Hear our plea, and honor our wishes.”

The idea of joining together with one’s enemies was a repulsive idea for a significant portion of the Clans, but it was hard to argue with StarClan itself. With Mona’s moon shining brilliantly, and the stars of Sigel glittering like sparks, the gangs spoke together, hesitantly outlining their plans to make this union possible.

As it happened, the Union was a surprisingly easy transition. With the leaders of each Clan banding together to serve as a communal head, and cats being given the blessing to spread throughout the Valley and care for themselves or stay with what remained of their colonies, there was little to fight over now. StarClan kept their word and blessed the new Territory with bountiful herbs and prey with a white star-marking on their foreheads. The Clan grew fat, healthy and content, and has remained so since.