The Clans have been destroyed by storm and temper. The cats have fled. Nothing remains in this place, where cats used to roam, where cats used to laugh. The twolegs have returned to this place, which was once wild. They have turned it into a city, which no cat could possibly inhabit…
Except for us.
Welcome stranger.
Pawsteps echo against the stones that line the street.
The moon shines overhead for just a moment, and then the clouds drench the street in darkness once more. All is silent for a second. And then shrieks pierce the air, shattering the peace.
Perhaps you've never met us. We are the loners of the Northern Tracks. We are the elite of the Eastern Mansions. We are the gangs of the Southern Alleys. And we are the crafty of the Western Docks.
We . . . are the Cats of the City.
Do not underestimate us, for that will be the last thing you ever do...
