[color=6ecff6][h3]The Gathering
Late Greenleaf
Moon High
The Clearing[/h3]
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[h2]LightClan[/h2]

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A sleek black form slipped between the shadows, weaving around trees and bushes with practiced steps. The shape of the tomcat was hard to follow, but those following him would know where they were going now. Green eyes flashed in the darkness, looking back at the crowd who had gathering behind him. Jaggedstar stopped at the top of the ridge, looking down at the shallow dip that formed the clearing. All around them, trees and undergrowth hid the territories from view; only the light of the full moon above to light the way. LightClan was the last to arrive, as he always made certain. It was much harder to ambush those who knew you were coming after all, and Jaggedstar expected no kindness from the other three clans. 

The black tom raised his tail, signalling his cats to be silent before he flicked the tip and plunged through the undergrowth. The clearing beyond was still blooming with life. The grass was green and soft against his pads, while flowers grew easily in the sunshine. Even this close to leaf-fall, the Clearing was always full of energy. Cats from the four clans mingled as he shouldered his way through the crowd. He wasted no time with the other clans. Jaggedstar had no time or will for friends, no desire for a mate or kits. After all, the last cat he trusted betrayed him in the end. 

As he jumped up onto the old, moss covered log, Jaggedstar absently thought of his brother. Raggedpelt was likely dead by now, and walking the hunting grounds of StarClan. There was no way that the brown tabby tom would have survived the leaf-bare alone after Jaggedstar had driven him out. Emerald green eyes scanned the clearing, picking out the pelts the Medicine Cats gathering on the far side of the clearing. The mingled scents would confuse intruders, but it would also mask any murders tonight. If they were lucky, none of the clans would have planned something for tonight, when their guard would be down. Jaggedstar knew that there were cats among them who didn’t care for the sacred truce. 

Lean muscle flexed beneath the solid black of his pelt, as he adjusted to sit with his tail wrapped over his paws. The moss covered log was soft and warm beneath him, but the tom had always prefered reeds and feathers to moss. Would never understand how the other clans managed to sleep on moss that smelled like bark. Jaggedstar would always prefer his nest lined with feathers and fur from his prey. Waiting atop the log for the other leaders, Jaggedstar watched the crowd milling about. He wouldn’t rush the rest of the clans into starting the meeting; there was still plenty of time tonight, and morning patrols had already been sorted out.