Summary: Whether you heard them or not, they were brushed aside. And now… they are revealed. These are the stories of those who were forgotten.
I, Blanc, do not own Warriors. Erin Hunter does.
CH 1: Kings and Queens
They think they're oh-so-clever, living wild in that savage forest of theirs, claiming to be the powerful ones, the great ones, the ones who know the ways of old. They hold their heads high, disregard all.
They narrow their eyes at us in disdain, even as they tread in our territory as trespassers, slinking in the shadows, running away in terror at the slightest movement from our harmless house folks as they travel, mewing about nonsense ("StarClan, save us!" What the hell is StarClan?). They think they are great, and we are inferior, lazy, and are soft. They think we are the ones who have grown ignorant, but it is they.
But as they rule their forest, we rule ours.
Yes, I am what the Clan cats call a kittypet.
No, I am not soft.
No, I do not think the Clans eat bones (That's just a silly tale our mothers' scare us with… it never really affected the smart ones, which include me.).
No, I'm not fat.
NO, I'm not as lazy as they say I am.
When a wild cat hears the word "kittypet", they automatically wrinkle their noses in disgust.
When a civilized cat hears the word "wild cat", we spit on the ground (and the dumb ones squeak in terror. It's just the bad luck the wild cats meet the dumb ones.).
Because if they were thrusted into the world where "monsters" are everywhere, stupid dogs running around, the music of everyday human life in all places, they will run like the cowards they are. They do not know the ways in our kingdom, our world, and are lost kits in the wide, lonely world.
They have no knowledge, and are stuck in their small patch in the forest. They're stupid. They claim to be intelligent. They claim to be smart. We are the smart ones. We know the ways; we know more than they do.
We know where the big dogs and the harmless dogs lay.
We know where the best scraps are.
We know which humans to avoid, which not to avoid.
They don't know.
And we know music and dance, knowledge, and power.
Music and Dance: it's all around us. When a human bangs the trash can, it's a low, echoing sound. When the wind sighs and rustles the leaves, it's a soft whisper calling our name. And the best music is the type when the humans play their funny things they call instruments. It creates a beautiful, liquid sound. Music is everywhere, and the wild cats are just too arrogant to hear it. Do they even know the word "music"? Have they stopped to listen to the beautiful sounds everywhere?
Uh… no. You see, they do not stop. They go on, fretting about this and that, while we, sit, close our eyes, and appreciate the sounds of music (some wild cats interpret this as a lazy snooze for fat pussycats.). Even the smallest kit knows music.
And what about dance? Every paw step is akin to a melody, a song. To explore your world in dancing steps grander than just padding around.
Knowledge: Sure, they know about this mouse, that rabbit, whatever. But we have real knowledge. When to hide, when to move, when to smell, when to see. Okay, they know that too (which cat doesn't?). But do they know how to use it? Bah, only to hunt and fight, which is completely vulgar. They have knowledge over the forest, we have knowledge…
…Everywhere. We know music. We know humans. We know dogs. We know rats. We know rodents. We know the things that fly and soar. We know delight. We know sadness. We know loss. We know things they do not know. They have only a short amount of knowledge, stuck in their own sense of heaven.
Don't you see? They're locked up, thinking they're the best. We see, we learn. We drink in the new things, while they stick to their old traditions, never expanding. They believe that they are the best, and do not expand, nor search for new knowledge. They'll crumble to dust one day.
Power: We have power. We have power over the streets, while they govern their puny forest. Their territory is small to where they live. Imagine you have ten mice. Nine of them are white, one of them is brown. They are the brown. That is how small their forest is. Puny. So... who has more power? Us. We have knowledge and music too. Done. End of discussion.
If the wild cats move into our streets, they are lost. They will be small kits barely weaned, crying for their mother. They'll be lost in the smells, the sounds, and the taste of those who we are familiar to.
And yet, they sneer at us, stare down at us, spit at us, whisper about us behind our backs (we aren't deaf!) that we are fat a lazy.
They are lazy (but not fat… only some). They do not expand their knowledge, and stay in their puny forest.
We are the kings and queens of our world, our kingdom.
And frankly, they only rule the forest. We rule the other places.
Stupid, lazy, wild cats. It's only bad luck they meet the softest of our kind.