Code Of The Clans

A WARRIOR REJECTS THE SOFT LIFE OF A KITTYPET.

The life of the Clans is as far from the life of a kittypet as you could imagine. We hunt for our food, choose our own boundaries and fight to defend them, and raise our kits to follow traditions laid down by cats long since faded from our memories. Many Clan cats would say this makes us better than you; I would not necessarily claim that. There are good and bad cats everywhere—and good and bad within every cat. If every Clan cat was pure of heart and unfailingly loyal, we wouldn’t need the warrior code at all.

Pinestar’s Secret

“Hey, Lionpaw! Have you seen Pinestar?”

Lionpaw looked up from grooming his pelt. “I thought Pinestar went out with a hunting patrol,” he told his mentor.

Sunfall narrowed his eyes. “I thought so, too, but the hunting patrol’s just come back and Pinestar’s not with them.”

Lionpaw gave up on his tufty fur and padded over to the bright orange warrior. “Would you like me to look for him?” he offered.

Sunfall shook his head. “I want you to come with me on a patrol to check the border along the river,” he explained. “The dawn patrol picked up some RiverClan scents as far in as the trees.”

Lionpaw felt the hair along his spine bristle. Those mangy

RiverClan cats! Why couldn’t they stick to their own territory?

But when they went on patrol they found only the faintest hint of RiverClan scent under the trees, which could have been blown there by the wind, so they left their neighbors alone. When they returned to the camp, Pinestar was back. He greeted his deputy as soon as the patrol pushed its way through the gorse tunnel.

“Sunfall, is all quiet on the borders?”

“Yes,” Sunfall replied. “Did the prey run well for you?”

Pinestar nodded. “StarClan was good to me.”

Lionpaw was surprised. Pinestar didn’t smell of fresh-kill, just flowers and crushed grass. Sunfall had told him he’d done well on the patrol today; Lionpaw hoped Pinestar would invite him on a patrol soon so he could show the leader how much he had learned.

But Pinestar rarely went out with other cats; he preferred to patrol alone, he said, so he could hear and scent more clearly. Lionpaw was very frustrated. How would Pinestar know the best warrior name for him if he never saw him hunt or fight? He would only be an apprentice for two more moons, so there wasn’t much time.

Lionpaw woke early the following morning, before any of his denmates. Outside the den, the air was clear and cold, with a hint of mustiness that suggested leaf-fall was on its way. The clearing was empty but the gorse tunnel was quivering as if a cat had just gone through. Lionpaw pushed his way in, wondering if whoever it was would like some company.

A reddish brown shape was just reaching the top of the ravine.

Pinestar! Perhaps this was Lionpaw’s chance to show off some of his skills. He bounded up the rocks behind him, intending to call out when he reached the top, but by the time he got there, Pinestar had vanished. Lionpaw looked around. A fern was bobbing more strongly than the breeze was blowing, and the ThunderClan leader’s scent drifted just above the dewy grass. Lionpaw put his nose down and followed the trail. He decided to see how far he could track Pinestar without being spotted. That would be a great way to show how good he was at stalking!

Staying far enough back to be out of sight and treading as softly as he could, Lionpaw followed Pinestar across the territory, past the treecutplace, and into the thinner trees. It was harder to track through the pine trees without being seen; Lionpaw had to rush between fallen branches and sparse clumps of bracken, hoping Pinestar didn’t look back. He was so busy concentrating on not stepping on any crackly twigs that he didn’t realize where he was until he looked over the bracken and saw Twoleg fences in front of him. They were right at the edge of the forest! But where was Pinestar? Lionpaw stretched his neck out from his hiding place and sniffed. The trail was still there—and it led straight out of the forest.

Had Pinestar chased a kittypet out of ThunderClan’s territory? Lionpaw was sure he would have heard something like that. He crept through the long grass that grew under the outermost trees and sniffed the bottom of a wooden Twoleg fence.

Pinestar had definitely climbed up here—there were scratchmarks on the wood. It looked as if this was a regular climbing place.

Lionpaw clawed his way up the wooden fence and looked down into the little square of Twoleg territory. Short green grass

was edged with strong-smelling flowers, and a strange, leafless tree stood in the center holding bright-colored Twoleg pelts. Just past the leafless tree, the grass turned into flat white stone, where two spindly wooden objects stood on skinny legs. They each had a flat ledge at the top of the legs, and on one of the ledges a red-brown shape was curled, with a tail hanging over the edge.

Lionpaw nearly fell off the fence.

What was Pinestar doing in the Twoleg territory?

Lionpaw was about to jump down and call to him when a flap in the Twoleg nest swung open and a Twoleg appeared. Lionpaw ducked behind some flowers, trying not to sneeze as the pollen tickled his nose. The Twoleg made some noises, and to Lionpaw’s astonishment, Pinestar replied.

“Oh, thank you, I love it when you rub my ears! Could you do my back as well? That’s perfect!”

Lionpaw peered around a leaf. The Twoleg was bent over the spindly object, stroking Pinestar’s fur with one pink, hairless paw.

If Pinestar hadn’t been purring, Lionpaw would have thought he was being attacked. But he was enjoying it.

Pinestar rolled onto his back so that his hind legs dangled over the edge of the ledge. His head tipped back and Lionpaw caught a glimpse of his eyes, closed in delight. Suddenly afraid of being seen, Lionpaw scrambled back over the fence and dived into the long grass. He wanted to run all the way back to the camp and forget what he had seen, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He had to ask Pinestar what he was doing.

“Lionpaw! What are you doing here?”

Pinestar was standing on top of the fence, looking down at him.

“I… er…” Lionpaw stammered.

Pinestar sprang down and looked closely at him. “Did you follow me?”

“Yes,” Lionpaw admitted. “I wanted to show you my stalking skills.”

“Well, I didn’t notice you, so they must be good! Now, I expect you’re wondering what I was doing with that Twoleg.”

Lionpaw nodded. Every hair on his pelt seemed to be on fire.

Pinestar began walking back into the trees, and Lionpaw trotted to catch up. “The kittypet that lives there has been causing trouble for the last moon,” Pinestar explained. “Straying into the forest, scaring our prey—not that he catches any, of course. But I decided to see how he liked it when I went onto his territory—and

I wanted to give him a warning to stay away for good.”

Lionpaw felt a little knot inside his belly relax. He had guessed this was the reason Pinestar had gone over the fence!

“He wasn’t there, just my luck,” Pinestar went on. “Then I heard the Twoleg coming, so I jumped on that ledge and pretended to be another kittypet so she didn’t get suspicious. It was hard work, I can tell you!”

Lionpaw nodded. His leader was so brave and clever! Lionpaw would never have thought of pretending to be a kittypet!

“You won’t say anything to the others, will you?” Pinestar checked. “I don’t want any other warriors trying this. It’s far too dangerous.”

Lionpaw shook his head. “Oh, no. I won’t say a word,” he promised. His tail bristled with excitement. Pinestar must trust him as much as a warrior! Maybe his name would be Liontrust, or Lionloyal, because of the great secret they shared.

“I knew it!” Sunfall hissed. Keeping low so that his orange pelt was hidden by ferns, he looked back at Lionpaw. “Go back to the camp and tell Pinestar we’re being invaded! Those RiverClan warriors have deliberately crossed the border. We can’t let them get away with it. Pinestar needs to send a fighting patrol here at once.”

Lionpaw nodded and whipped around. He squeezed past

Bluefur and Tawnyspots and pelted back along the trail that led to the ravine. He jumped down the rocks in one giant leap and burst through the tunnel. “RiverClan is attacking us!” he yowled.

Several heads appeared around the clearing. “Where’s Pinestar?” Lionpaw panted. “He needs to send a warrior patrol.”

“I thought he was with you,” meowed Thrushpelt. “I’ll take the patrol to Sunningrocks; you go find Pinestar and tell him what’s going on.”

Lionpaw spun around and raced out of the camp. He could guess where Pinestar was: defending their territory against that pesky kittypet! Well, he’d have to focus on RiverClan right now, before those fish-faces took over all of ThunderClan. Lionpaw ran through the pine trees and threw himself at the wooden fence.

He slithered down the other side, unable to stop on the top, and landed in a heap among the flowers. Shaking earth off his fur, he looked out.

Pinestar was standing on the white stone, eating a pile of brown pellets. The Twoleg was standing over him, showing its teeth and making soft, friendly noises. Pinestar swiped his tongue around his jaws and looked up at the Twoleg, curling his body around its hind legs. “That was delicious!” he meowed. “Is there any more?”

“Pinestar! What are you doing?”

The ThunderClan leader froze and looked straight at Lionpaw.

A flash of horror appeared in his eyes; then he ran across the lawn.

“You shouldn’t be here!” he hissed. “What if that kittypet comes back?”

“RiverClan is invading!” Lionpaw told him. “You have to come!”

Pinestar looked down at his paws. “I can’t.”

“Why not? Did the kittypet hurt you?” Lionpaw peered at him but couldn’t see any blood.

“There is no other kittypet,” Pinestar mumbled. “Only me.”

Lionpaw shook his head, confused. “You’re just pretending to be a kittypet. So the Twoleg doesn’t chase you away.”

Pinestar glanced over his shoulder. The Twoleg was standing on the stone watching them. “She won’t chase me away,” he mewed. “She likes me.”

Lionpaw stared at him in disbelief. “But you’re our Clan leader! You can’t be friends with Twolegs!”

“Then I can’t be your leader anymore,” Pinestar whispered.

“I’m sorry, Lionpaw. I can’t keep the Clan safe. I’m too old, too scared of losing any more battles. Sunfall will make a better leader than me. Tell ThunderClan that I am dead.”

Lionpaw felt a surge of anger. “No! I will not lie for you! You might not want to be our leader anymore, but you could at least be brave enough to tell the Clan yourself. They deserve to know the truth, that you are leaving to become a kittypet.”

He whirled around and scrabbled back over the fence. He heard Pinestar following, and the Twoleg call out in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll come back, I promise!” Pinestar meowed from the top of the fence, before jumping down after Lionpaw.

They ran back through the forest. With a jolt, Lionpaw wondered what had happened by Sunningrocks. Had Thrushpelt’s patrol been enough to drive out the RiverClan invaders? Would

Pinestar be forced to fight for his Clan one last time?They reached the ravine and jumped down. The gorse tunnel was trembling as if several cats had just burst through it. The clearing was crowded with warriors and apprentices circling, some of them bleeding from scratches, others limping. Featherwhisker, the apprentice medicine cat, was chasing Rosepaw around with a mouthful of marigold leaves.

“If you just keep still long enough for me to put these on your cut,” the medicine cat puffed, his voice muffled through the herbs, “I’ll be able to treat the other cats.”

“Treat them first!” Rosepaw protested. “That stuff stings!”

The cats fell silent one by one as they spotted Pinestar.

When they were all quiet, Sunfall stepped out, bleeding from a torn ear.

“Where were you, Pinestar?” he asked.

Pinestar didn’t answer at once. “Did you win?”

Sunfall nodded. “We chased those fish-faces back as far as the river. They still have Sunningrocks—that is a battle for another day—but they won’t set foot across the border for a while.”

“Good,” Pinestar meowed. He padded across the clearing and jumped onto Highrock. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather to hear what I have to tell you!” he yowled.

Most of the Clan were in the clearing already, but they turned to face Highrock and settled down. Lionpaw joined Rosepaw and Bluefur, who was licking one of her claws. “I nearly tore it out on a RiverClan warrior!” she whispered proudly.

Lionpaw looked up at Pinestar. It felt so strange, knowing what he was going to say. The blood roared in his ears, and he didn’t hear the start of the Clan leader’s announcement, just the gasps of shock around him. Sunfall said something; then Pinestar spoke again.

“I have been honored to serve you for eight of my lives. My ninth will be spent as a kittypet, where I have no battles to fight, no lives depending on me for food and safety. Sunfall will lead you well, and StarClan will understand.”

“The other Clans might not,” Sunfall warned. “You won’t be able to come back to the forest, you know.”

Pinestar let out an amused huff. “Oh, I can imagine the names they’ll call me. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the leaders suggests an addition to the warrior code, that all true warriors scorn the easy life of a kittypet. But you’ll make ThunderClan as strong as it ever was, Sunfall. My last act as leader is to entrust my Clan to you, and I do it confidently.”

Sunfall dipped his head. “I am honored, Pinestar. I promise I will do my best.”

Pinestar jumped down from Highrock and wove among his Clanmates for the last time.

A sleek black she-cat stepped forward. “Pinestar, what about our kits? Won’t you stay to watch them grow up?” She nodded to the three tiny cats beside her. Two were weak and sickly-looking, slumped on the ground with glazed eyes, but the third, Tigerkit, was a sturdy dark brown tabby, who pounced on his father’s tail.

Pinestar gently pulled it away.

“They’ll be fine with you, Leopardfoot. I’m not a father they could be proud of, but I will always be proud of them. Especially you, little warrior,” he added, bending down to touch his muzzle to the dark tabby’s ears.

Tigerkit gazed up at him with huge amber eyes and growled, showing thorn-sharp teeth.

“Be strong, my precious son,” Pinestar murmured. “Serve your Clan well.”

He straightened up and continued across the clearing. He paused once more beside Lionpaw. “Thank you,” he meowed. “You were right. I had to tell my Clan myself. You have a good spirit, young one. When it is time for you to receive your warrior name, tell Sunfall I would have called you Lionheart.”

He nodded, then padded softly into the gorse tunnel and disappeared. Lionpaw watched until the gorse stopped shaking.

May StarClan walk your path, always, he murmured to the old leader. And may I be worthy of my warrior name.

Lionheart.

A Change of Heart: Sandstorm Speaks

If Fireheart was just a kittypet, would he have gone to Tallstar behind Bluestar’s back and arranged to stop the battle before it began? Would he have risked Bluestar’s trust because he believed what he was doing was best for the Clan? Would so many of his Clanmates have supported him, even Whitestorm and Goldenflower?

Dustpelt tells me over and over that Fireheart can never be a true Clan warrior because he wasn’t born in the forest. He belonged to Twolegs, who fed him that muck that looks like rabbit droppings, and made him wear a collar! He was such a show-off when he first came to ThunderClan. He always had to be best in training, or catch the most prey, and be the most solemn when we went to Gatherings. Dustpelt and I could never figure out why

Graystripe was friends with him; he didn’t seem to know what fun was.

And he was always causing trouble! Like taking Ravenpaw away—Fireheart said he didn’t know what happened when Ravenpaw vanished, but I saw them sneaking out of the camp. He always seemed to be doing something to annoy Tigerclaw. But now it looks as if he was right, and Tigerclaw was our biggest enemy all along. Would a kittypet have been able to figure that out? Not even Bluestar realized until Tigerclaw tried to kill her.

Maybe it’s because Fireheart was a kittypet. He doesn’t just accept the warrior code; he thinks about it and figures out how it’s supposed to work. And when it doesn’t, like when he should have obeyed his leader who ordered him to attack WindClan, he challenges it and does something different. Is that a weakness in Clan cats, that we do what we’re told just because that’s what our ancestors did?

Dustpelt insists that Fireheart doesn’t belong in ThunderClan because the code says we have to reject kittypets. But we have to reject their life, not the cats themselves. And Fireheart has done that, hasn’t he? He started out as a kittypet and chose to leave it all behind to join ThunderClan.

If I had to choose between Dustpelt and Fireheart to lead the Clan, who would I pick? Dustpelt is so loyal to the warrior code, he’d never dream of breaking it. The other Clans would respect him for that, which might make them more peaceful toward us.

Fireheart would argue with any cat, in ThunderClan or outside, if he didn’t think they were doing the right thing. I don’t want to live in a Clan that is always at war.

But Fireheart won’t fight a battle that he doesn’t believe in.

That’s why he talked to Tallstar, persuaded him not to let his warriors fight when Bluestar led the attack on his border. Which means Tallstar must respect Fireheart and trust him, because he’s always been friendly with Bluestar before now.

Maybe a kittypet can know us better than we know ourselves.

Maybe it takes an outsider looking in to see the truth—like Fireheart knew the truth about Tigerclaw. I wonder if he’ll ever see the truth in my own heart: that, whatever Dustpelt says, however much Fireheart breaks the warrior code, I love him more than I could imagine loving any other cat.

And if Fireheart knew, would he love me, too?