chinchystextdoodles

[chinchystextdoodles]

The Blizzard

Elkpaw! We have to go back!" The stocky, light brown apprentice's attention was grabbed away from the mouse he had been stalking. He left it, hurrying towards his mentor's voice, seeing the black and white warrior with his thick, long fur bushed out.

"What is it?" he asked, the fur on his shoulders rising as he looked around for what was scaring him, yet found nothing. Meeting Swiftflight's golden gaze.

"Ravenfur was just by here. I'll explain back at camp, we have to go."

His mentor was known for being quite cowardly at times so Elkpaw wasn't too worried. He quickly fetched the scrawny shrew he had caught before and returned to camp with Swiftflight, who carried a sparrow in his jaws.

Upon arrival, they found most of CedarClan already gathered. Froststar was sitting up on the rotting log by the side of the camp. The cats dropped their fresh kill on the small pile, quietly joining the rest of their clanmates who were either pacing or staring at the leader. He appeared to be waiting for the rest to arrive, glancing between the gathered cats and the entrance along with Palecloud, the deputy and Darkleaf, the medicine cat.

Ravenfur, Hazelnose, Lightpaw and Rosebush soon dove in through, the latter three looking confused, all with their fur bushed.

"What's going on?" Lightpaw sat at her brother's side, just as confused as he was as the other three warriors sat down nearby. "I don't know." Even Elkpaw was beginning to get scared by now, looking to Froststar as she began.

"Cats of CedarClan. Darkleaf has warned me about a great blizzard that comes our way. It seems that it will last very long, but it will blanket the world with biting wind and blinding sheets of snow. It is coming very soon so it would be best for the Clan if we found the best shelter we could. A place where we all could hide as one. I will lead the search. We must also gather as much prey as we can. We do not know how long we will be unable to venture out. I'd also like the dens reinforced both in case we need to stay here and so they will hold up for when we return. It would be a nuisance to have much rebuilding to do in the middle of Leafbare. Could you organise that, Palecloud?"

The tortoiseshell deputy nodded as Darkleaf set off on his own and Froststar took Rainwater and Petalbird with him to try to search for a good large shelter beyond the border, hopefully close to. Most of the rest were split up into hunting patrols.

Elkpaw pushed his nose out through the bushes that hid the Clan from the blizzard, met with only stinging white in his vision. It made him squint from the contrast compared to the darkness of the cave they all took shelter in. A harsh bout of wind clashed against his whiskers and muzzle, snowflakes catching in his fur. It had been a few days already. When was it going to end?

At first, the Clan didn't show all that much caution with eating, but very quickly they had to begin rationing it out, making sure the weakest cats wouldn't starve and food would last for long enough. But they hardly had anything left. The Leafbare hadn't provided them with much fresh kill as it was.

There had been a few breaks in the snow where cats went out to search for anything else that may have wandered out, but they hardly found anything and Froststar had even ventured out farther out of desperation, but by the time he came back, he was practically frozen and, according to him, had lost a life out there when the blizzard returned.

As he pulled back into the darkness, wiping white dust from his muzzle, Badgerbite approached him. "Any luck?" He asked, sounding quite hopeless. The cats were starving and his mates kits had been crying about hunger ever since they woke up.

"Going strong." He was surprised himself how dead and hopeless he sounded himself, venturing back deeper with the warrior to the collective warmth of a Clan pressing together. Everyone was giving up already. Few still wondered how their friends from other Clans may have been doing. They were all more worried about their own.

Elkpaw pushed in between the warmth of his sleeping sister and his mother, resting his head on the hard ground. He felt a warm, rough tongue slowly rasp over his fur, thankful for the comfort it provided.

After some time, a yowl split the air from among the inner circle where the queens with their kits and the elders rested. Everyone's attention snapped to them, the faint shape of a ginger tom possible to make out, his tail lashing as he prodded at something.

"Jaywhisker! Jaywhisker." Elkpaw felt like his heart had stopped for a second. That was only the first fallen, but how many more would go before the storm ended. Cats rushed to comfort the elder as a couple more cats took the gray tabby elder's body aside where cats would share tongues with the freezing body one last time and she would be buried when the snow next broke.

What felt like a season or so later there were the first flashes of hope for the cats as the hunters that ventured out brought prey. A lone, pathetic looking vole. Yet it was still something for the starving Clan. The thing managed to get split up between the remaining elder, queen and kits, a taste of prey after going hungry for some time, but the rest were still left with empty bellies. There had been an alarming amount of death by now. Even his sister was gone. Poor Lightpaw had starved to death. His mentor, Swiftflight was gone too...

The circle of cats around him, once seeming huge, now felt tiny. Even more so when he thought how many others would leave for StarClan early. He felt sleepy...

Next thing he knew, he was getting jabbed in the ribs over and over again by a paw, a panicked yowling reaching his ears. Palecloud.

"Elkpaw! Elkpaw!" She was crying, terrified for him. He cracked open his eyes. The cave felt so empty. Where was everyone. He made out Froststar next to his mother.

"It's no use, Palecloud. He's hardly moved for days." He was trying to be gentle with her as he knew she would grieve for the death of her remaining kit.

But he wasn't dead!

"His pelt's still warm!" Palecloud retaliated, her fur bristling. She seemed about ready to claw the leader's pelt off, showering her kit's pelt with fast, rough licks as she realized he was awake, urging him to get up.

"Where is everyone?" He asked, shakilly climbing to his weak paws, looking around and noticing only the golden tabby pelt that pressed against his now. His tail wrapped over his shoulders as he supported his son, clearly anxious himself.

"Let's go, Elkpaw. We're going home. And you can eat and rest there." The deputy's legs shook as she urged him forward. His numb limbs felt strange as he walked forward, supported by his parents. It was obvious Elkpaw's mother would have carried him like a kit, yet she was tired and weak herself and he was nearly the same size as her.

When he was pushed out through the gap in the bushes, he realized how thin the rest of the Clan was. How thin he, his parents and the leader was. And the Clan seemed to have shrunk to practically half. But the blizzard was gone, only a cold breeze in its place, the skies filled with lazy white clouds swimming in the dull blue.

A/N: I know I'm late for the first day, but I'll try to keep up from deadlines from now on. This is for the National Writing Month event IdeaClan has started on Warriors Amino and I'll be randomizing the prompts for each day. Wish me luck and I hope you enjoy.

[chinchystextdoodles]

100 One-shot challenge - Exploit

Pricklestorm charged through the grass towering over her head, so high that even the biggest cat could possibly fail to see over the top. The sun was high up, sending beams of light and warmth down onto the dark brown tabby's pelt. She was out to stretch her legs and to get out of having to do any patrols. The deputy may be upset with her once she returns, but was she ever happy with anyone in the first place. She hasn't seen it and honestly, she despised her attitude. What had Brightstar seen in her in the first place. Thoughts occupied her thoughts and led her other senses to fade temporarily, though suddenly she found a scent. The scent of a rogue for sure and she definitely was not at the border either. The scent was fresh so that must mean whoever dared to trespass definitely had something nasty coming their way. She hissed loudly, pouncing when she saw a sandy-brown tom with a bird in his jaws, only to miss him by a whisker. The tom gave her a smug look briefly before charging off. She chased after him, not letting him out of her sight until he was well over the border. Good. While the look he had given her made her boil with rage and embarrassment, she still had a sense of happiness. Now Dawnsong couldn't be angry with her. She had gotten rid of a rogue so that should make up for her sneaking out at least a little. Little had she known, that same tom would keep on appearing again and again, sneaking around their territory. She was getting tired of having to chase him off so one day, she asked, her fur bristling and claws unsheathed as the tom stood his ground bravely as well. "Why do you keep coming back? You are not welcome here!" The tom puffed out his chest, looking the she-cat in the eye. "I come here only to see you. You may have an attitude, but I can see beauty in your tough nature. I ask, have you yet a mate?" He spoke, his eyes sparkling as he looked Pricklestorm over like a piece of prey. She believed what this tom was saying, taking him as some lovestruck fool. But she must admit, she wasn't very liked among her clanmates and she didn't quite mind the affections of the tom even if he was a loner. "Listen here, lovebird, like me if you wish, but you have no place here. Get out of our territory and stay out." "Oh, but can you not spare me even a single meeting? I can stay over the border, but you are free to come and meet me even if it is just at the edge, are you not? We could make a deal, meet me at moonhigh this night and I will not place even a claw over the border ever again." The she-cat hissed, but the tom didn't even flinch, merely twitching his ear and waiting for an answer. "Fine. But only because you're becoming such a nuisance." She growled, flinching as she sensed her clanmates not far. The tom was satisfied, running off and she chased, the patrol that had been passing by charging after upon noticing the nearby rogue scent. That night as the moon shone bright above, she snuck out of camp, heading for the border of the clan's territory where the sandy tom was indeed waiting for her. "So, what do you even want with me anyway?" She hissed, staying on her side of the border, the rogue letting out a soft purr as he spoke. "Ah, only your sweet voice and your lovely presence. I apologize that we have yet to get a decent introduction. I am Julian. And you are?" "Pricklestorm. And stop with that, you're not fooling everyone, you mousebrain." "Ah, you think this is but a kit's game? Woe is me, rejected by such a magnificent creature such as yourself. The she-cat was honestly getting annoyed by this point, claws out and a huge burning urge to slash this tom's eyes out. "Okay, listen here. If you don't start talking normal, you're not leaving here with your tail attached. Understood?" "Oh, very much so. My apologies. So...I am sure you don't live in this territory on your own. So would you be willing to take a tom such as myself in." "I live in a clan. And we do not accept kittypets here." And with the war currently going on, no reasonable cat would jump in. Nor did the clan have the time to train some lost kittypet to fight when there were enough deaths of fully trained and even talented warriors. Julian seemed disappointed, proposing that the two should at least meet every now and again now. In all honesty, Pricklestorm was caught, she agreed to meet every so often, always at the border. At first, with a desire to keep this loner in his place, away from the territory. Although eventually she ended up finding some affections for Julian. It seemed as if he was the only one who appreciated her, really. One night she came to meet, tired and with scars from a battle from that same day, one of her ears nearly shredded off entirely, clumps of fur missing and still healing shallow and deep slashes adorning her tough body. Julian genuinely looked worried and for once the warrior wasn't even against his affectionate attempts to get close to her. Too bad that as time went on and on and the young warrior saw the war slowly beginning to move towards peace, she would find only betrayal awaiting her. She was tired. Tired of all the constant fighting. Tired of feeling as if she was not a member of the clan, but rather an outsider who had forced her way into her home. It seemed some of her clanmates figured out her 'secret' meetings and word spread like wildfire, sparking distrust and even getting Brightstar to consider exiling her at one point, yet the clan needed all the warriors it had. "Pricklestorm." Julian addressed the snoozing brown tabby who had curled up on the grass right by the border, not having intended to fall asleep. But dawn still seemed far as the moon was only starting to set. She growled with irritation, muttering a "What do you want?" which got a little chuckle out of the sandy tom. "I was meaning to ask you...would you like to have kits with me?" A rough Leaf-bare had just passed and Featherclan hardly had any kits around at the time so of course it would be a good idea to add some to keep the clan going, but...she had her doubts. Regardless of this, she accepted. The next time the two met up was when they agreed to try for such. Yet once Pricklestorm realized it had worked and she was expecting kits, she had told Julian who seemed overjoyed. Despite a promise to meet more often now...Julian seemed to have disappeared. She never saw or even scented him again. She had been used by this tom. She had seen it from the beginning, it was coming. Yet she went blind to it and this is what it ended up leading her to.

[chinchystextdoodles]

100 One-shot challenge - Father

No matter how much Nate searched his memories, he could never remember his mother. Not her voice, not her face. Nothing. He only ever remembered his father who he grew up with. A lone parent who took care of him as he grew. The one who rocked him to sleep, the one who bottle-fed him as a baby. He was the one who always was by his side, the one to teach him to walk and talk and take him to kindergarten in the morning before picking him up and taking him out for ice cream in the evening. They had went fishing together and camped in the woods. He could even remember seeing a fox once when he was young. The highlight of his younger days was the day his dad took him to an animal shelter and the two wandered around, looking at all the animals so Nate could pick his favourite. The two had prepared their home for a puppy already and they took home a small border collie home, who Nate named Holly. His father helped him train the young collie and the two would always play games with him. Early in his teen years as Holly was a full grown dog, Nate got into soccer. His dad was always there for him, cheering him on and cheering him up after a loss. His dad was always so proud of him even if he never was perfect. No matter how many times his grades weren't that great, no matter how many games he ended up losing. His father was always there to support him. As he grew older, he would never forget the man that led him through life. As he grew older so did Holly and his father. The two men supported each other through tougher times, and even when he lived on his own Nate would frequently visit or call his dad even if it's just to chat. Time flew by and the two seemingly hadn't had a single fight or argument in their whole lives. After Holly died, the two went to give her a burial together, honoring the faithful, intelligent dog, treating her make-shift funeral just as one would treat any funeral for a person they knew and loved. Eventually, time showed its cruelty to the old father who's health dropped and dropped. With his son always by his side, helping him pay the medical bills, he might have gotten through it better, but...Nate had found a family of his own and had children of his own. He didn't have so much time for his father now so the poor man was left to die alone. When Nate found out, he was crushed, but he didn't let it shake him too much. He attended the small funeral, doing his best not to cry despite the incredibly large drive to weep like a small child again. The one who always had been by his side and showed him only the best of a life was not with him anymore. And never would be. Nate had one vowed to be this best father to his kids in honour of his own upbringing and he had kept it. He told his wonderful children stories of his life, of his father. He even got them a puppy and named her Holly in memory of his own dog who he grew up with. A thought haunted his days. Was he doomed to die alone like his father? Would time repeat itself and his memory live on through his own kids? Only time would tell and he kept his hope burning strong as time flew by. Day by day, month by month, year by year...

[chinchystextdoodles]

100 One-shot challenge - 'Sinking'

Dust was blown along by the wind, indistinguishable from the snow that forever covered the earth. This was not the surface world? Why was there snow here? Those questions have long since been forgotten. It was simply something they were used to. Chara had gone through the underground, they'd seen what that monster of a human had done. It had not just been a few monsters. That monster of a human had slaughtered their friends, their family. The ground all around was littered with piles of dust. But none should be fooled. There were still plenty of monsters here. Anarchy ruled now that the king, the royal guard and the royal scientist had vanished, lost to the hands of that human. Shifty. Chara tried to fix things. They did their best to calm everyone down and allow peace to settle. The world seemed silent now. Tension hung like nooses around everyone's necks.  Anger and hopelessness filled their pounding heart. But another feeling trumped all the rest. Fear. The teen was mistaken for the other. Not the hardest mistake to make. The two looked almost like twins after all. Chara themselves even called them a mirror. Quite sickening that they also once called them a partner. That they were nice to them, trusted them to do the right thing. They thought Shifty had been that rare kind of human who wouldn't kill. Their brother had taken to them easily and they joined into their little games around the forever frozen down with a fitting name. Now, of all times, they were gone. The one time they would have been GREAT to have around. Everyone around hated them now. Blamed them for the lives lost...They blamed themselves too. It was their fault Shifty had been free to do as they wished and kill, to take all these innocent lives. And to think. And to think they had promised to protect monster kind until the very last of the days. Their dread was never wrong after all. A human did come. A human did ruin the fragile peace of the trapped beasts living below. Monsters were waiting for them in Snowdin. Waiting to pummel them with rocks and make their life a living hell. Too bad. That would not be happening. They stood among the trees, a noose hanging from a branch and circling loosely around the teenagers neck. They stood on a lower branch, prepared to jump and let the rope do its job. One final phone call. They selected the number of the one who was their biggest enemy. They called Shifty, promising to meet them again in hell. "Meet you there!" The pale-faced, messy human almost joyfully exclaimed with their voice cracking slightly before they jumped to their demise. Quick work was made of their life as the tug on the rope from their weight was enough to snap their neck, a loud, sickening crunch or snap being heard on the other end before the phone simply fell to the ground, dropping onto the snow. Once accepted and loved, shown kindness they'd not known before because of their magic abilities, Chara was now nothing more than a dangling body to find. Perhaps the monsters would find triumph in this. Perhaps they would still find the little red heart, A SOUL, floating in the air. Well, it would make this loss a victory for someone then, would it not? On the other end, Shifty had been listening, but they hardly cared. Stone-cold, their expression was as empty as ever as they carried on with their business, up on the surface world. They held no care for the monsters, no care for the friends they could have made down there. They weren't happy, but they could not say they quite felt any guilt either. But perhaps it was time for another try? Chara had been right about one thing during Pacifist... There was nothing redeeming getting back up here and out of the cage of the beasts below. It was just the same and not at all worth all the trouble to get down there, to brave challenge after challenge, only to return here. The only strength they really had gained was only useful against monsters and held no weight in the human world. They knew it now. Now that they were back here in the save shitty position they had started in. The same neglect,abuse they once lived with. And so they hit the button. The button that brought everything back to the start.

[chinchystextdoodles]

100 One-shot challenge - 'Injured'

A deafening bang broke the eerie yet calm silence in the forest. Birds woke from their slumber, their shadows visible in the sky above. The sound was accompanied by a pained howl of a wolf. The man in the bushes stood with his gun lowered and hungrily eyed, with a smug smile, what he thought to be his prize to take, but the grey-furred canine was lumbering off as fast as it could go, a trail of blood moving down the leg from its shoulder and dyeing the grass red. With a quiet cuss, he raised the weapon up and fired a second shot in the direction of the wolf, but no reaction came this time. The bullet missed.  Taking out a dagger and putting away his gun, the man moved to follow his prey. A flashlight in the other hand, he followed the trail of red stains until the sound of threatening growls seemed to come from all sides. The hunter glanced around and reached for his gun, but only a moment later multiple wolves came at him with bared fangs, biting him and dragging him down to the ground as if to avenge their packmate. The injured wolf seemed to watch, giving the injured shoulder a lick now and then. The furious canines tore at the man’s clothes and body, tearing flesh and chewing bone. By the time it was over, the hunter’s body was hardly anything more than a few scraps and shredded bones, weapons and flashlight left laying on the ground. Never to be found again, he was mourned by his family. Press spoke of him and police searched, efforts fruitless for a long time before the remains were discovered, tests ran. The items did indeed belong to the man. But despite the attempts to guess what had happened, the wolves that lived deep in the woodland were not going to be harmed as the humans’ revenge, it seemed. As for the wolf, he had to limp for a day or two, the bullet still buried deep in his shoulder. Once infection set it, the creature soon could no longer go on and passed away, howls echoing through the trees loudly that night as its family mourned as well.

Many years later, the hunter’s young son had grown into a young man. He knew of his father’s fate and was willing to tempt it in the same way. To avenge the death. He set out to find the creatures that had done the horrible, gruesome crime. The injured wolf was long gone and despite it being a generation or two later among the family of wolves, they all too well remembered the past as well. The familiar being that entered their territory was to be seen as an immediate threat. Yet the canines did not realize the danger they were in before shots echoed through the woods once more, yowls and howls, growls and yelling following suit. But unlike his father, the son made it out alive, leaving the forest with terrible marks from the battle and several lives on his conscience. But he felt happy, proud accomplished. After the initial shock of the attack faded, the young man began to laugh, yelling as if he was speaking to the wolves. To others he would look like a man who had completely lost it. And bloodloss was definitely getting to his brain. Once he managed to get to the hospital, he stumbled in as if drunk, mumbling to himself. He was put into ER and recovered over time, happy to have avenged his father, but at the same time he began to feel guilty for what he did. Was all that bloodshed necessary?

[chinchystextdoodles]

Part 1

(A/N: This thing doesn’t have a name. It’s just something I once did for practice.)

The apprentices were put in charge of watching the kits, at least for the time being. Bearstar didn’t have time to patrol the borders and as such only really hunted to feed his small clan of stolen kits and apprentices, three of which he trained within the hollow of the camp to keep watch. He and his friends who had set up the other three clans had made an agreement that each would only take 4 apprentice and 4 kits to serve as a stable enough beginning. And each of them took the medicine cat apprentice they found in the far away clans they raided. That’s right, the four traveled with 16 kits and 16 apprentices for a long way in search of a territory where they would not be found. In Bearclan, Branchpaw was the medicine cat, though he still bore his apprentice name due to having been kitnapped from his clan before he could earn his full name. Yet still, he had all the skills necessary. The only problem was receiving a full name now. The leader couldn’t give it to him, that’s for sure. And he has yet to find out where cats were meant to communicate with their ancestors anyway. The medicine den was big, however, something he couldn’t complain about. As the rest of the cats spent most of their time either in the clearing or the nursery, he often joined them, whether it be play, discussing events or plotting ways to sneak out and head home. All the young cats were homesick, particularly the kits who missed their mothers, denmates or siblings. Currently, Branchpaw laid in one of the nests in the nursery, next to Cedarpaw who hissed in a hushed voice, trying to plot the escapes of the cats of a false clan. Foxpaw and Plumpaw shared a different nest with all four kits squirming in the third. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. Bearstar may be able to keep us in check here, but the full moon is approaching. If these goons keep to tradition, there will be a gathering then, meaning that we’ll be traveling elsewhere, likely all together. But he couldn’t watch us that way, right? If we fled he wouldn’t be able to get us, not all of us. So we’ll bail and if he manages to get someone we’ll save them after. Deal?” Foxpaw seemed doubtful. He was fast, sure. But would Cedarpaw and the rest really go back to challenge the powerful cat and free whomever remains? And what if the vengeful leader returned to steal more cats from other clans. “I don’t think it’s a very good idea. Plumpaw, what do you think?” The two were the younger pair, though Plumpaw was a moon younger than Foxpaw who had 7 to his name. Plumpaw was definitely not quite as fast, not to mention smaller than the two of the older apprentices despite being a bit big for her age. “Well…I want to go home, but…” “But what? Are you on board or not?” Snapped Cedarpaw, spooking Plumpaw. “No…” “Ugh! Branchpaw, what about you? Wanna ditch there losers next gathering?” “As a medicine cat, I do NOT intend to leave any cat stranded here.” Stubbornly, the cat refused, growling at his friend who growled back, fluffing. Of course a medicine cat apprentice would be no match against a warrior apprentice. The four kits squeaked, stopping their games and looking at the apprentices throwing glares at one another. Sootkit, nearly ready to become an apprentice himself, lunged at Cedarpaw with a battle cry, Aspenkit following far less playfully than Acornit, Doekit shrinking back and hiding between Foxpaw and Plumpaw who rolled their eyes at the aggressive apprentice. They had to admit he was clever at times, however. “Can you guys please stop fighting?” Cedarpaw kept his claws sheathed as he battles the three kittens, growling and pushing them away one last time before refusing to continue. It was annoying. He wanted a real battle. Branchpaw’s ears twitched as he heard a loud call from Bearstar. “Come on and eat, ya mousebrained kits!” He must have just returned from hunting. The medicine cat flicked his tail, urging the rest to follow as he left. “Bearstar? I have something I must ask of you.” He tried sounding polite, facing the large tom. “What do ya want?” “Where can I go to speak with Starclan?” Bearstar remained silent for a bit, possibly unsure how to answer. Did he even have a location like that. “Well?” Branchpaw pressed as the rest of the cats ventured outside to eat. “I’ll show you tomorrow…at Moonhigh.” Branchpaw nodded, not trusting the leader to really have anywhere in mind. Plumpaw greeted him, dropping a mouse by his paws. “Here. I saved it for you. There’s hardly enough for all of us and the medicine cat needs his energy.” Branchpaw purred, mewing a thank you before chomping on the mouse, Plumpaw settling next to him and eating her own piece of fresh-kill.

Later that day, when the kits were asleep and the moon was setting Branchpaw was left to stay in the nursery as the other apprentices were taken just outside of camp for training, each getting a chance for a quick attempt at hunting and practice of how to hunt different prey, followed by a longer burst of battle practice. Cedarpaw fought Bearstar whilst Foxpaw and Plumpaw rolled around and fought with one another. They returned in the dead of night and took their time to sleep for the night. Bearstar had other plans however. All four leaders met up, discussing a topic not brought up before. How would cats contact Starclan. It was necessary for the medicine cats after all. With hours of searching and debating, they came across a spot that seemed suitable. It didn’t shine with the stars or moon, but it was a suitable enough place in their opinion. The four tried to dream by it, but even as they fell asleep, nothing came to them but a dream less night.

The next day was uneventful. Aside from the leader, the cats mostly stayed within camp, play and fighting, practicing and chatting with one another. Branchpaw was lucky to be allowed out of camp just to gather herbs so this was clearly not a good situation. Another problem was that in the short time here, this was the first time he was out. Greenleaf would soon come to a close and he would be left incapable of helping his clanmates at this rate. He prayed to StarClan, asking for help and guidance and hoping he would get to speak with them tonight. Bearstar had better be keeping his promise. And this he did. Branchpaw was curled up in his nest, snoozing calmly in the middle of the night until he awoke to a paw jabbing his ribs. Drowsily, he raised his head, looking up at the large tom, amber eyes meeting in the dark. “Get up. You asked me to show you where to speak to Starclan, remember?” Branchpaw pushed himself up to his paws, giving his messy coat a few quick licks. He rushed after the leader who moved with wide steps, his large frame showing off the powerful muscles under the short fur. The pair left the camp, Branchpaw leaping after Bearstar as he quickened his pace. “Hey! Wait up!” He called, his breathing quickening with the faster paced movement. Bearstar didn’t seem to react, carrying on at his own pace. The longhaired tom was forced to follow to the edge of the territory and through what seemed to be a different clan’s territory. He didn’t quite recognize which, but Bearstar cleared it up. “It’s in Smokeclan’s territory. I’ve arranged that all of us will meet here. If you are not back by sunhigh, don’t expect any fresh-kill until next half-moon.” Btanchpaw gulped, sitting beside the leader who stood tall and proud, tail twitching with impatience. Some time passed before four cats appeared, seemingly the other leaders with their medicine cats. There were two light gray cats, a tom and a molly from the smell of it. There was also a cinnamon molly and a sandy-brown molly. The latter he knew well. Bearstar greeted the small group. “Care to introduce me?” “Of course. This is Mistypaw, the medicine cat I chose. And yours is?” The gray tom replied. “I’m Branchpaw.” The apprentice chose to speak for himself, yet received a cuff on the ear from a large brown paw. The sandy-brown molly seemed to be about to follow his lead, silenced by the cinnamon molly next to her. “And I’m Harestar. This is Sandpaw. Nice to meet you, Branchpaw.” She seemed the nicest, a faint feeling of envy flashing through Branchpaw’s mind. It must have been nice to be part of her bunch. Yet it would be even nicer still to instead be back at home. Back in Moleclan. “You two can leave yours here. I can handle them until Smokestar comes along.” The pattern was obvious, leaving Branchpaw to settle on the idea that the gray tom must have been Troutstar. And so the three apprentices were left under Bearstar’s watch yet a group of cats appeared rather soon. Led by a dark gray, spotted tom, the bunch had four sleepy kits carried by apprentices, most of which seemed almost as sleepy. Bearstar bowed his head to the tom, who returned the silent greeting, eyeing the three apprentices. Branchpaw couldn’t help but fluff up his fur as the intense stare made him feel uneasy. Sandpaw his behind him, though Mistypaw sat still, frozen with her fur fluffed out as well. Bearstar left, leaving the three to follow the short command of Smokestar. “Follow me.” Branchpaw cautiously padded forward, silently urging his frightened new acquaintances to come along as well. Smokestar had already turned away, not doubting his command would be followed, and moving along, a light brown molly speckled with white and with brown spots along her sides moving just behind the dark tom along with a black molly with a white tail, the pair carrying two long-furred kits, one gray and the other black in their jaws. A ginger tom, carrying a brown spotted kit let his gaze linger longer as if interested in starting a conversation before practically bouncing after. A familiar brown and white tortoiseshell moved beside the trio, eyeing them curiously, her green eyes sparkling in the moonlight before it seemed to fade away in the thick pine forest. A blue kit hung from her jaw, appearing to be asleep despite being carried. Branchpaw assumed this molly was the fourth medicine cat. Sandpaw was pressed against Mistypaw’s side, Branchpaw’s ear twitching and turning to their direction to pick up on their hushed conversation. With a sigh, the lone tom turned to the tortoiseshell to try to start a conversation. “Are you Brindlepaw?” Although her voice was muffled by the fur of the kit in her jaws, she responded. “Indeed. Nice to see you again, furball.” The two were from clans that lived near one another, leading them to know each other from clan and medicine cat gatherings. “The feeling’s mutual.” He smiled, both happy and upset that his friend was in this mess together with him. They stopped as the rest of the group ahead came to a halt, Smokestar’s copper eyes staring them down. “You can chat later. Off you go. He gestured with his tail to what looked like a foxhole. The apprentices looked to one another, Brindlepaw placing the kit she was carrying down onto the ground. “What do you want us to go into a foxhole for?” Mistypaw asked, sounding uneasy. With a single glare from the dark cat, she quieted, nudging Sandpaw to go first. None of them seemed confident, although after being shoved, Sandpaw realized there wasn’t any fox scent, even hidden by the scent of cats. “Don’t worry! It’s safe!” She claimed, circling Smokestar and diving down into the hole. The rest looked to one another, Brindlepaw following Sandpaw’s example with Branchpaw and Mistypaw close behind. The  ticked tabby looking around the faintly illuminated place. It seemed like a rather large space, possibly too large to be an ordinary fox hole. A strange stone glittered, Sandpaw and Mistypaw’s reflections showing on it as they approached it curiously. “Think this’ll work?” Branchpaw faced Brindlepaw as he asked, her tail flicking him on the ear. “Only one way to find out. Come on.” She laid down by the stone, Branchpaw playing to Starclan that they would come as he took a place beside her. He pressed his nose to the chilly surface, felling fur brush against his as one of the other two settled down beside him, his eyes closed. Then as soon as he opened them, he found himself facing a large pool of water, the mighty sounds of a waterfall nearby filling his ears. He looked around himself, seeing the cats who he knew all too well. Had it all just been a dream? He saw a small black cat beside him, waking up and looking at him in surprise. “Branchpaw? Where are you? What happened?” He knew it was too good to be true. So this was a dream instead. “I’m in some forest. A rogue leader calling himself Bearstar stole me and a bunch of kits and apprentices. It’s near some kind of twolegplace, but…not near Leafclan. Another one. He…he and his friends, Troutstar, Smokestar and Harestar want to start their own clans and they kidnapped apprentices to be medicine cats.” He explained, frantically. Littlecloud gave him a shocked look, her mouth gaping open for a short few moments. “Well…i-if you’re going to be a full medicine cat…you deserve a full name, right?…I…this isn’t the place to do it but…” She straightened up, sighing. “My mentor had to do something similar as well… I, Littlepool, medicine cat of Moleclan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of a medicine cat and with your help he will serve his clan for many moons…” Branchpaw watched as his mentor seemed to get a bit choked up, the apprentice getting the urge to try to comfort her, yet he didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony. “Branchpaw, do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from rivalry between Clan and Clan and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your life?” He fought a lump in his throat to choke out his answer. “I do.” Yet how much did he wish to be in his home instead. “Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your true name as a medicine cat. Branchpaw, from this moment you will be known as Branchberry. StarClan honors your kind heart and determination, and we welcome you as a full medicine cat of…” She stopped, clearly unsure of what to say, prompting Branchpaw to finish it for her. “Bearclan. It is known as Bearclan.” “Right. Bearclan. I wish you luck my apprentice. Moleclan is doing well.” She gently reached up to place her head gently over Branchberry’s as he licked her shoulder respectfully. There was no one to cheer for him, yet he imagine it and it was enough. “Thank you. And thank Starclan for letting us meet.” Branchberry expressed his gratitude, his and his mentor’s eyes shinning in the light of the moon and stars. Before he knew it, his vision faded and he found himself back in the tunnel, facing the reflective surface. It seemed only Sandpaw was still asleep, Mistypaw bouncing around and yowling about meeting her mentor, Brindlepaw watching with amusement. He sat up, puffing out his chest with pride. “What did I miss?” He questioned, amused by the excitement coming in waves off Mistypaw. “Not much.” Brindlepaw replied quickly before Mistypaw practically jumped on him. “Branchpaw! Branchpaw! I got my full name! I’m Mistypool now!” “You too?” Sandpaw seemed to have woken up, sitting up and looking at the three in surprise. “Did all of us?” Branchberry asked, surprised that all four had had a similar experience. “We should introduce ourselves all over again.” Sandpaw suggested, all four sitting in a circle. The sandy-brown molly flicked her tail at him, urging him to start. “Um…I suppose I am now a true member of Bearclan with the new name of Branchberry. I wish I was back home, but I do not plan to neglect my new clanmates. Brindle…um…” “Brindleseed. I was given this name for my talent with herbs. I, like my clanmates, dislike Smokestar, but I do not plan to escape. He’d have my pelt for bedding if I did. Mistypool, perhaps you’d like a turn?” “But what about me” Sandpaw cried, eager to speak. “You already missed your chance.” Mistypool seemed uncomfortable, but spoke with some quiet encouragement from Brindleseed. "Well...I think Troutstar is a good leader and...Blackpaw, Frogpaw and the kits are all really nice. I wish I could go home, but...I still like it here as well." Without prompt, Sandpaw jumped up to speak, suddenly growing modest, sitting back down and speaking quietly. "My new name is Sandnose. It's because I'm good with scents. I miss Featherclan, but Harestar is kind and wants us all to be comfortable living in her new clan...and I could never leave my sister Seedpaw!" "Are you just about done?!" Called a rough, deep voice from outside, sounding annoyed. Smokestar had apparently been waiting and was growing impatient. They looked to one another, practically jumping on one another's tails as they hurried outside. It seemed the rest were all asleep in a huddle until now, the impatient yowling of their leader waking them. They all seemed disoriented, the apprentices each picking up a kit and leaving one for Brindleseed to take. "I'll see you at the gathering, if there is one" She mumbled through fur, Smokestar leading his clan away with Sandnose, Mistypool and Branchberry following to the border. They shared quick goodbyes before each running off to their clans to share the news.