The morning was shining and bright, the sun glowing through a cloudless sky. The wind was warm, the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. Cats from various small nearby colonies were beginning to gather in the glade, surrounded by trees that were in various shades from green to yellow, orange and brown. A small selection of leaves had begun to litter the ground, and kits were seen jumping in and out of piles. Some of the young cats were purring away as they buried kits in the piles of leaves, watching as the kits would soon enough jump out in order to scare passersby, resulting in roaring laughter from all involved.

Some of the more elder cats had formed some of their own circles. They spoke about the exciting news in their circles. They spoke of new mates, new life, and one particular elder - a white-muzzled she-cat by the name of Birdie - was heard talking about a dead deer that had been found near their colony home. According to her, it had been something almost exciting at first, as all the cats found they could take a break from hunting until the scent started to attract a coyote.

All the other cats were gathered in various areas. Cats who grew up together shared tongues, talking about how things were going. Some spoke of new prey spots, others spoke of a new place to pick up herbs and berries. Some cats whispered tiny bits of gossip amongst one another, laughter crowing over the sound of the glade at a well-meaning joke.

After some time, queens began to call back their kits from their roughhousing, some needing to call names several times before they received a response. One particular kit ran past his mother at full speed towards another leaf pile until his father sharply called after him, and the young kit started to crawl back, teased by his littermates for being so openly scolded.

Various cats had begun to crowd around the center of the glade, where upon further investigation, one would see several stones placed in a large circle. In the center of the circle was a fluffy brown tom by the name of Oliver, who seemed to be checking to make sure everything was in check. He leaned down to various stones, sniffing at them as though checking for any sort of scent markers or anything that might give away what one might be looking for. He motioned for another cat, a large grey tom named Flint, to double check something he was motioning towards. Flint made his own way around the circle doing scent checks before returning to Oliver and whispering something into his ear, something that had to be kept a little extra shush as the crowd began to quiet.

Oliver scanned the crowd around him, his ears flicking atop his head before he spoke aloud.

"Good morning, all. We all know how this goes. One representative from each nest shall step forward and choose a stone. I will go last to prevent bias towards which stones I know are which." Green-tinted eyes searched through the crowd a little longer, as though waiting for someone to speak up and object, but it was ritual.

Before anything could continue, a thin grey she-cat burst through the bush towards the crowd. Tessie purred in good nature as she made her way towards some friendly faces. "Almost forgot what day it was," she chuckled to the cats who had turned to her entrance. "That is until I looked around and couldn't see neither the tom nor the kits." She was running her tongue along her chest in an effort to calm herself and keep herself presentable.

A nearby queen purred in response. "You're in time, though. They're still chatting away up there."

Tessie searched through the crowd before she could spot her family. She gave a headbutt to the queen as a thanks before she began to make her way towards the front of the crowd, tapping her tail along the back of her mate, a black tom named Bill, and settling down beside him.

Oliver, who had been cheerfully chatting with some of the other cats near the front, spotted Tessie as she arrived. "Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie," he said.

Tessie blinked slowly, "Oh, come now, you wouldn't have me leaving a broken nest, would you?" she teased aloud, allowing for a soft laughter to ring through the crowd around her.

Oliver nodded, moving his paws lightly in order to settle himself. "Guess we oughta get started and get this over with. Is anybody missing?" he called out.

A few cats began to chatter. "Hunter isn't here," a voice mentioned.

Oliver hummed. "Ah yes, Hunter's still nursing that fox's bite. Who's selecting for them?"

"That'll be me," another voice called. A tortishell stepped a little further forward into the crowd. Hunter's mate, Robin. Cats nodded in agreement that this seemed to be settled at that.

"Right." Oliver nodded, his tail flicking behind him. "Washington, will you be selecting this season?"

"Yes, sir," responded a shaggy brown she-cat. "I'm selecting for my mother, my sister, her two kits and myself." A few voices around the crowd seemed to speak well of the she-cat, saying they were glad to see someone bright stepping up to the podium.

Oliver spoke, "That's everyone, I believe. Did Birdie make it?"

Here," the elder white cat responded and Oliver nodded.

A hush fell across the crowd as Oliver spoke up, commanding the attention of all the cats around him. "All ready?" he called. "I shall call forward each nest, starting at the Old Oak Tree and moving along the road with the Chicken Farm last. When your nest is called, your representative shall step forward into the center, choose a stone, and stand near. Do not turn your stone until all have taken their turn. Everything clear?"

Most weren't listening all that carefully to the instructions, as this ritual took place regularly. It always took place the day following the new moon after the first falling of leaves. Instead, cats were looking around at one another, their paws beginning to itch with the anticipation.

"Old Oak Tree Nest," Oliver called before a fluffy white cat stepped forward, nodding in greeting towards the central tom. They sat in the middle of the circle of stones, looking around at the display around them, before standing and moving towards their chosen stone. They stepped to the outside of the stone, placed their paw on top, and sat down in waiting.

"River Bank Nest... Silver Rowans Nest..." Oliver kept calling out each nest one after another, with cats stepping forward and following the ritual. Sit in the middle, select a stone, place a paw on top and wait.

Near the back of the crowd, a small calico she-cat's tail seemed to churn up dust behind her. "Seems there's no time at all between seasons anymore," she spoke to a black cat next to her.

"Doesn't even feel like a full moon cycle since the last one," the black cat responded.

"Old Snake's Den... Tall Elm Nest..."

"Ah, there goes my father," the black cat said as a large black and white tom stepped forward and took his turn. They seemed to hold their breath as they watched their father scan before selecting a stone.

"Rotting Stone Nest."

"Go on, Washington," a white and brown she-cat nudged forward her daughter, the brown she-cat from before. She moved towards the middle, seemingly a little anxious before taking her turn and stepping upon a stone.

"We're next," the calico from the back of the crowd said to her black-furred friend. She watched as another calico, the she-cat's littermate, stepped forward and giving a solemn greeting to Oliver before selecting a stone.

At this point, most of the stones had cats standing near them, a singular paw on top in order to claim it. Some seemed to be anxious, claws occasionally coming out to scratch at the ground around the stone.

"Broken Bridge Nest... Barren Willow Tree Nest..."

"Get on up there, Bill," Tessie said with a nudge against her mate as he stepped forward, causing a few cats nearby to laugh.

"Some of the younger cats have spoken about giving up the ritual," A blue cat said to Birdie.

The white she-cat scoffed. "Pack of mouse-brained fools," she muttered. "Nothing's ever good enough for these young cats these days. They'd be better off finding themselves some upright walkers and living with them if they're so willing to give up tradition. Used to be a saying: 'Overturn the stones to find the rabbit's den underneath.' We do it to prevent starvation when the cold weather settles in, but no one seems to take it seriously anymore. Bad enough to see Oliver up there joking with everybody."

"I just wish they'd hurry," the blue cat responded nervously.

"Great Reed Nest."

Birdie pushed her way through the crowd. "I've lost count of the seasons I've attended the ritual." she called out, as though making a pointed comment to those who thought it was something they needed to give up. Her tail lashed behind her as she chose her stone and settled.

"Upper Barn Nest... Chicken Farm Nest..."

After that, there was a long pause. Oliver stood in the center of the circle now, looking around to see only one stone left before he made his way towards it, settling down behind it and placing his paw on top. "Alright everyone," Oliver nodded before pulling his paw back and turning the stone over.

Voices were whispering. Who's got it? Who is it? Is it Washington? Is it Robin? No, it's Bill. Bill's got it.

Cats began to look around the crowd before Tessie burst forward. "You didn't give him enough time to select the stone he wanted! I saw you, it's not fair!" she cried out. Bill stood over his stone, staring down at it with an empty gaze.

Bill growled in frustration. "Quiet, Tessie," he said, stepping away from his stone and towards his mate.

"Alright, Bill. You selected for the Barren Willow Tree Nest. You have yourself, Tessie, any other cats in your nest at the moment?" Oliver asked as the large grey cat from earlier, Flint, began to grab various stones and pull them together.

"There's Kassandra and Aesop, make them take their chance!" Tessie called.

"Your representative selects for the entire nest, Tessie, you know that better than anyone. Kassandra and Aesop belong to your nest." Oliver corrected rather harshly.

"It wasn't fair," Tessie cried.

Bill spoke, ignoring his mate's cries. "Yes, Oliver. We have myself, Tessie, Kassandra, Aesop, as well as our kits Griffin and Chief."

Oliver nodded in response. "Six cats then, so we need five bare stones and Bill's stone. You got that, Flint?" The tom turned to the large tom behind him as he looked at the stones in front of him. "I need the six of you to turn around while we arrange the stones. If some volunteers would block their view, please," Oliver called out as several cats began to swarm.

Tessie was still crying out. "I think we need to start over. I tell you, it wasn't fair! You didn't give him time enough to choose, everybody saw!"

Yet no one listened to her cries. More cats seemed focused on making sure she was faced away from Oliver and Flint as they rearranged the six stones until the crowd finally parted. The stones were once again placed in a circle, though this time the circle was much smaller in order to account for the small nest of cats.

"Remember, step forward, select a stone, and stand near it. Do not overturn your stone until each cat has selected. Griffin, you first."

A cat of only one season old bounded forward.

"They're not mice, Griffin, don't play with them, please." Oliver chided, causing a couple cats to chuckle. The young cat listened and walked with a little more seriousness before selecting a stone and placing his paw on top, just as he saw the other cats before him do. "Chief, you next."

"Kassandra," Oliver said as my mother stepped away from my side, a strange grace and almost cheer overtaking her as she selected a stone. "Aesop."

I stepped forward and looked at the remaining three stones. I moved to the furthest stone and placed my paw over it, feeling the cool touch on my paw pads.

"Tessie," Oliver said. Everyone turned to her, who seemed to stand defiantly as she looked at the cats around her. She hesitated, but finally hung her head as she moved forward and selected a stone.

"Bill," Oliver said. The black tom stepped forward without the same hesitation and moved to the final stone without a paw on it.

The crowd was quiet with only one voice: Birdie. "It's not the way it used to be," she said clearly to those who could hear. "Cats ain't the way they used to be."

"Alright, overturn your stones."

Griffin and Chief turned over their stones without hesitation, bounding back towards the crowd with excitement to cry out that their stones were blank. I looked towards my mother as she turned her stone, a strange dissatisfied twitch in her ear to see her own blank stone. As I looked down and felt the smoothness beneath my paws, I turned the stone to see it blank, also.

"Tessie," Oliver commanded. Her paw sat defiantly atop the stone, unmoving. Instead, Bill overturned his stone, only to see it blank.

"It's Tessie." Oliver said. In a hush voice, he spoke, "Show us her stone, Bill."

Bill stepped towards his mate and forced her paw off her stone before turning it over. On the underside of the stone was a mark of the stain of a raspberry underneath it that had been crushed against it in order to leave a streak of red. At least, it was my understanding that it was raspberry.

"Alright, all, let's finish quickly." Oliver called out.

The crowd began to move closer inward. One of the cats leaned into Griffin's ear, nudging him forward and explaining what he was to do.

Tessie spun in circles, looking at the cats around her as she sunk into the ground, her tail puffed out in fear. "It isn't fair!" she said. A cat bounded closer to her, claws outdrawn and slashing at her ear, blood beginning to fall to the ground. "It isn't fair, it isn't right!" she screamed before the cats were upon her.