Code Of The Clans

ELDERS AND KITS MUST BE FED BEFORE

APPRENTICES AND WARRIORS.

Caring for the weaker members of the Clan lies at the heart of the way we live. We are taught to respect elders who fought for the Clan in the past and kits who can’t yet hunt for themselves. However, moons ago, when the blood of warriors flowed thick and fast over Sunningrocks, if you had asked a warrior what he or she fought for, the warlike answer would have shocked you. All that would change thanks to a visionary warrior called Splashheart, who went on to lead RiverClan and bring peace to the forest. Let me take you back…

A Mystical Battle

The shape was little more than a flicker beneath the surface of the water, a trembling shadow cast on the stones crisscrossed with waving green fronds. Splashheart kept absolutely still, waiting for the fish to come closer. Another flicker, less than a tail-length away, and Splashheart shot out one paw, his unsheathed claws slicing through the cold water. When he felt his pad brush against the fat, slick body, he curled his paw and swiped it toward him. The fish flew out of the water, scattering silver droplets, and landed on the bank beside him, where he finished it off with a swift blow.

“Good catch,” said a voice behind him. It was Reedshine, the dark orange she-cat who had mentored him until two sunrises ago, when he received his warrior name.

“Thanks,” Splashheart purred. “Want to share?”

Reedshine padded closer and sniffed at the fish before taking a bite. Splashheart bent down and took a mouthful from the other side of the fish. This was only his second catch as a warrior, and it tasted as good as the first.

On the other side of the river, Sunningrocks loomed, casting a heavy black shadow onto the water. These smooth gray rocks quickly grew warm in the sun, making them perfect to lie on and share tongues or just watch the river sliding past below. Some of RiverClan’s elders could remember when the river flowed on the other side of Sunningrocks, cutting off RiverClan from ThunderClan’s wooded territory. But then a great flood came one leaf-fall and the river burst its banks to surround the rocks, until they resembled a bleak gray island. When the floodwater went away, the river had carved a new course on RiverClan’s side of the rocks. Before the next sunrise, ThunderClan had claimed Sunningrocks as its own, swarming across the dried-out riverbed to set scent markers along the new riverbank. The Clans had fought over them many times since, and at the moment the scent markers lay on the far side of the rocks, keeping ThunderClan firmly out.

Splashheart narrowed his eyes. There was a cat creeping along the far riverbank, head and tail low. The cat was half hidden by the shadow from the rocks, but it was a leaner, sleeker-furred shape than RiverClan cats, who grew plump and thick-pelted thanks to their watery prey. ThunderClan!

“ThunderClan intruders on Sunningrocks!” he yowled.

“I’ll fetch help!” Reedshine told him. “Stay on this side of the river until I get back.” She plunged into the reeds, her orange pelt quickly vanishing among the rattling brown stalks.

Splashheart’s fur stood on end and his paws tingled. His first battle as a warrior!

“This is our territory now, fish-fur!” snarled a cat from the other side of the river.

“Never!” Splashheart hissed. He sank his claws into the edge of the bank, ready to leap into the water and start the battle on his own.

“Splashheart, wait!” Darkstar burst out from the reeds behind him.

Splashheart whirled around to face his leader. “We can’t let them get away with this!” he protested.

The small brown she-cat met his gaze. “We won’t,” she promised grimly. Dry stalks rattled behind her and suddenly the bank was thronging with cats, warriors and apprentices, their fur fluffed up and their claws gleaming in the sun.

“RiverClan, attack!” yowled Darkstar, plunging into the river.

Splashheart scanned the rocks. Thank StarClan, they didn’t seem to be outnumbered. Blackbee and Eeltail were chasing after a

ThunderClan she-cat who was streaking for the cover of the ferns at the bottom of the rocks; Reedshine held another warrior in a paw lock, hissing a warning into his face. Darkstar had satisfied herself with a quick slash of claws across a dark brown cat’s ears before standing back to let him run away, yowling.

As the warrior’s screeches faded among quivering ferns, Splashheart heard a scraping noise from behind a tumble of boulders. He gathered his haunches beneath him and sprang onto the top of the nearest boulder. A pair of terrified amber eyes

stared up at him from the other side.

“Don’t hurt me!” bleated the small black-and-white cat—an apprentice, by the look of him.

“Then stay off our territory!” hissed Splashheart.

The ThunderClan cat didn’t move. Instead, he curled his lip in a snarl. “Are you sure you want to threaten me, fish-fur?” he challenged.

Too late, Splashheart heard the scrape of claws on the rocks above him and felt a rush of air as two sleek-furred shapes landed, one at each flank. In a heartbeat, his face was thrust down against the rock. “Care to threaten us as well?” growled a voice in his ear, and the massive paw pressed harder on his neck.

“Get off him and fight a cat your own size!” screeched a voice from the riverbank. Splashheart caught a glimpse of dark orange fur leaping toward the boulders. Reedshine! She crashed straight into the warrior holding Splashheart down, and both cats plummeted into the narrow gap where the ThunderClan apprentice was crouching. The young cat jumped on top of Reedshine and began pummeling her belly with his forepaws; as Splashheart scrambled to his feet, he saw bright red streaks blossom in Reedshine’s soft fur. He tried to jump down after her but the other ThunderClan warrior swiped his hind paws from underneath him and rolled him over.

The warrior loomed over him, her green eyes blazing. “StarClan changed the course of the river!” she hissed. “Sunningrocks belongs to ThunderClan now!”

“Never!” Splashheart spat, but the warrior pressed her paw against his throat and the sky began to go dark and fuzzy.

Suddenly there was a thud as two heavy bodies collided above Splashheart, and the weight on his throat lifted. He gulped down air, almost stopping when it felt like swallowing thorns.

“Don’t just lie there, Splashheart,” hissed Darkstar, who crouched on the rock beside him. “Get down to the shore with the others, quick.” Splashheart sprang down to the stones at the edge of the water. The rest of the RiverClan warriors were huddled together, some of them belly-deep in water.

There was a scuffle behind him and Splashheart turned to see Darkstar half carrying Reedshine down the bank. The dark orange warrior left a trail of dark red smears behind her, and her eyes were half-closed. Splashheart raced over.

“Reedshine, wake up!” He looked at Darkstar. “We have to get her back to camp, now!”

Darkstar opened her mouth to let Reedshine sink gracelessly onto the stones. The leader’s eyes were black with rage. “We will take her back,” she promised. “But first, we will reclaim what is rightfully ours!” She raised her voice at the end so every RiverClan cat heard. They lifted their heads and stared at Darkstar in astonishment.

“But the battle is lost!” Eeltail spat. He jerked his muzzle toward the top of the rocks, where several ThunderClan warriors stood in triumph, their tails kinked high above their backs as they jeered at the defeated cats.

“It is only lost when we stop fighting!” replied Darkstar. She jumped onto the riverbank so all the cats could see her. “Our elders, and our elders’ kin, and their kin before them, fought to keep Sunningrocks in our territory. Many of them lost their lives, giving up their last breath for stones that belong to us. Can we give up where they did not, turn tail and flee when they kept fighting so that their kits could hunt and play and bask on these rocks?

Will you fight with me now, in honor of all our elders and all our unborn kits?”

“We will fight!” roared the RiverClan cats. In that moment, Splashheart saw the rocks swarming with starry shapes of cats who had gone before him, his Clanmates from long ago battling over and over to keep Sunningrocks as their own. Now he would join them, set his paws where their paws once stood, and feel their battles echo around him as he proved himself worthy to walk among them.

With a single yowl, the RiverClan cats surged up the riverbank and onto the boulders. The ThunderClan warriors stood in a line on the far side of the summit, staring at them in astonishment.

“The battle is over,” snarled one of them, a broad-shouldered tabby with amber eyes.

Darkstar faced him boldly, the fur standing up along her spine.

“How can that be, when we are not beaten?” she challenged.

With a screech, the tabby sprang at her, but Darkstar sidestepped, spun around, and sank her claws into his back as he crashed to the floor. The RiverClan warriors leaped forward to meet the other ThunderClan cats, and Splashheart felt his teeth sink into short white fur. He didn’t let go until he dragged the cat to the edge of the rocks.

“Go!” he ordered, releasing the cat’s scruff at last. Without looking back, the warrior scrambled down the boulders and disappeared into the ferns at the edge of ThunderClan’s territory.

“Good work,” murmured a voice beside Splashheart. He had plunged back into the throng of cats, and for a moment he couldn’t tell which cat was speaking to him.

“Watch out for that black-and-white tom over there,” the voice continued, and Splashheart saw a ThunderClan warrior stalking toward Eeltail, who was holding down a spitting she-cat.

“Thanks!” he gasped and crossed the open ground in three quick strides, landing squarely on the black-and-white cat. Eeltail turned at the noise and lifted his paw so that the she-cat could flee; then he joined Splashheart and together they chased the black-and-white tom after his frightened Clanmate.

When the two cats had gone, Splashheart realized that the sounds of battle had grown quieter, muffled as if he were underwater.

“The battle has been won,” whispered the voice. “Sunningrocks is safe.”

Splashheart turned his head—the only part of his body he seemed able to move—and saw a faint, glimmering cat standing beside him. Her fur was the color of floodwater, almost black with streaks of pale gray, and her tail was so long the tip rested on the rock. RiverClan scent hung around her, but he’d never seen her before.

“Who are you?”

The cat dipped her head. “My name is Aspentail,” she replied.

“I am kin of your elders and of your elders’ elders. I fought for these rocks once, and I will fight for them again, for as many moons as it takes, until ThunderClan learns that Sunningrocks belongs to RiverClan.”

“I will fight with you,” Splashheart vowed. Aspentail nodded and started to fade so that Splashheart could see the gray of the rock through her fur.

“Splashheart? Who are you talking to?”

Blackbee was standing behind him, looking puzzled. “Didn’t you realize?” she demanded. “We won! Those fox-hearted ThunderClan cats won’t set paw on Sunningrocks now.”

“Not for this moon, at least,” Splashheart whispered. “But if they do, we’ll fight them again. Aspentail, too.”

“What was that?” mewed Blackbee. “Are you okay, Splashheart?

You’re not wounded, are you?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Splashheart promised.

“Cats of RiverClan!” Darkstar was summoning her warriors to the center of the summit. “Sunningrocks belongs to us once more! And in honor of our elders and their kin before them, who never stopped fighting to defend our borders, we will catch fish on our way home and feed it to the oldest and youngest cats of the Clan. This victory is for them!”

Some of the warriors looked surprised, but Splashheart nodded. He would catch the plumpest fish he could find in memory of Aspentail and take it straight to the elders’ den. And if he ever became leader of his Clan, he would make it part of the warrior code that elders and kits should be fed first, in honor of all they had done, and all they would do, for his Clanmates to come.

A Dark Path Chosen

As you have seen, Clan cats are part of something bigger than ourselves, and that ensures we are as strong as our strongest warrior when trouble comes. But come see what can happen if this part of the warrior code is ignored.

Longtail winced as a cold drop of water splashed onto his neck.

“The den is leaking again,” he complained to Darkstripe, who was curled up beside him.

Darkstripe opened one yellow eye. “Better tell Redtail,” he murmured. “He’ll have to organize a cat to fix it before we drown in our sleep.”

Longtail slid out of his nest, shivering as the bead of water rolled down his back, and pushed his way into the clearing. Leaf-fall was giving way to leaf-bare, and the sky was flat and gray like water. Longtail picked his way over to the cleft in the rock where he could hear Redtail, the ThunderClan deputy, speaking quietly with Bluestar. His words were punctuated with coughs that racked the warrior’s body and left him breathless: The Clan was fighting off greencough, and Redtail had only just emerged from the medicine cat’s den where he had been treated.

“We need to send out a hunting patrol,” he wheezed to Bluestar.

“The fresh-kill pile was ruined by the rain last night, and the sick cats won’t get better if they’re weak with hunger.”

“Very well, but only send out healthy cats,” Bluestar warned.

“Which means you stay here, Redtail.”

The deputy started to argue but was interrupted by another bout of coughing.

“Longtail!”

A tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat, her pelt dappled like a glade in greenleaf, was calling him from the shelter of a clump of ferns. Longtail changed direction to join her.

“What’s up, Spottedleaf?”

“Has Redtail organized any hunting patrols yet?” The medicine cat’s eyes were dark with worry. “I can’t help sick cats when they’re so hungry. I know hunting is hard in this weather, but we have to find them something to eat.” Her bones shifted under her pelt as she moved, and Longtail guessed that Spottedleaf had been giving up her own share of fresh-kill to the cats she was trying to heal.

“I think he’s just about to send one out,” he told her.

“Good. Let’s hope they come back quickly. Poppydawn is hardly strong enough to eat the catmint.”

Longtail peered past her into the ferns, where he could just make out the dark red fur of the sick elder. Poppydawn told good

stories and was popular with all the kits in the Clan because she let them chase her tail, which was as thick as a fox’s.

Redtail nodded to Longtail, flicking drops of water from his feathered ears. “Are you free to go on a hunting patrol?”

“Yes,” Longtail replied.

“Good. Take Darkstripe with you. Try Snakerocks—there might be some prey sheltering there. You shouldn’t find any snakes at this time of year, but don’t go too deep into the caves.”

At least Darkstripe won’t order me around, Longtail thought as he squeezed back into the warriors’ den.

In spite of the leaky roof, Darkstripe had gone back to sleep. Longtail prodded him with his paw.

“Wake up! We’ve got to go on a patrol.”

Darkstripe raised his head and stared at him blearily. “In this weather? You must be crazy! Did you tell Redtail that the roof needs fixing?”

“I didn’t get a chance,” Longtail confessed. “Come on, it’s just us. Redtail suggested we try Snakerocks.”

“Great,” Darkstripe grumbled, heaving himself to his paws. “I can either drown or get bitten for the sake of my Clan.”

“It’s not raining that hard,” Longtail pointed out as they headed for the tunnel that led out of the camp. “It’s mostly just water being shaken from the trees.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Darkstripe muttered, but he sprang gracefully up the rocks that littered the side of the ravine and reached the top before Longtail.

The rain kept Twolegs and their dogs out of the woods, so the warriors had a clear run all the way to Snakerocks. Longtail shivered. Even if the snakes had gone for the cold season, this place still made him nervous. Darkstripe skirted the edge of the trees, sniffing at the dead bracken.

“I’m starving,” he meowed. “We’d better catch something. I haven’t found anything good on the fresh-kill pile for days.”

Longtail headed for the pile of rocks, telling himself that he wouldn’t go into any caves at all, not even a little way. His whiskers trembled as he picked up the scent of squirrel at the foot of the rocks. The trail led behind the stones and a little way into a clump of brambles. Crouching low, Longtail stepped paw by paw under the thorns. There was a patch of gray fur just visible through the tendrils. He gathered his haunches under him, wriggled to get his balance, then sprang. Blasting his way through the brambles, he landed squarely on the squirrel. Muttering a prayer to StarClan, and spitting out leaves, Longtail backed out of the thicket, dragging his fresh-kill.

“Good catch!”

Darkstripe was standing right behind him, making Longtail jump. The black-striped warrior padded forward, sniffing appreciatively. The squirrel’s fluffy gray fur rippled under his breath. Darkstripe glanced over his shoulder. “This won’t taste nearly as good once we’ve hauled it back to the camp.”

Longtail shrugged. “We should catch something else quickly; then it will still be fresh.”

“But it won’t be as fresh as it is now.” Darkstripe looked back at the squirrel. “And we’ll hunt much better after a decent meal.”

“The warrior code says we can’t eat until the elders and kits have been fed,” Longtail reminded him. His pelt was starting to prickle as if ants were crawling through it.

“How will any cat know?” Darkstripe murmured. He narrowed his eyes until they were tiny amber slits. “You won’t tell, will you?” His voice was barely a whisper; Longtail could hardly hear him.

“I… I…”

Darkstripe opened his jaws and sank his teeth into the squirrel, without taking his eyes off Longtail. He chewed slowly, releasing the tempting smell of warm, plump meat.

We’re as hungry as the rest of the Clan, and we need our strength to hunt. It makes no sense to let the warriors starve when they have to look after every other cat. I caught this squirrel easily; we’ll catch plenty more.

Longtail bent his head and bit into the fresh-kill. Above him, a cold wind rattled the trees, and the rocks loomed gray and silent against the heavy sky.

Pelting rain made the sides of the ravine slippery, and the cats picked their way carefully down with their catch gripped in their mouths. Longtail had been lucky with the squirrel; prey had been much harder to find after that, and all they brought were two mice and an old, tough-looking blackbird. Neither cat looked each other in the eye as they dragged their fresh-kill over the muddy ground to the gorse tunnel. Darkstripe hung back, forcing Longtail to go first. The thorns seemed sharper against his pelt than before, and a feather from the blackbird had worked its way into his throat, making him choke and splutter through his mouthful. He pushed his way into the clearing and looked around, expecting to see a row of hungry cats waiting by the fresh-kill pile.

The clearing was empty, the ground shiny and bouncing with raindrops. Darkstripe joined Longtail and they stood side by side with their catch by their front paws. Before either of them could

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speak, a wail rose from the ferns around Spottedleaf’s den.

“Poppydawn! No! Don’t leave me!”

It was Rosetail, her daughter.

“It is her time to join StarClan. Our warrior ancestors are waiting for her.” That was Spottedleaf, her voice muffled by grief.

Longtail looked at Darkstripe, feeling a wave of panic rise inside him. “We’re too late! Poppydawn is dead! Spottedleaf said she needed to eat in order to fight the sickness, but we didn’t come back in time! We should never have eaten that squirrel!”

“Shut up!” Darkstripe hissed. “What’s the matter with you?

Poppydawn was going to die anyway. We should let the old, useless cats go if it means the warriors survive. The Clan depends on us now, not them.”

“We killed her…”

“We did not! Greencough killed her. She was old and weak.

We are the important cats; we should eat first. Do you want to do what’s best for your Clan?”

“Of course…”

“Then you’ll keep your mouth shut and let your Clanmates be grateful for what we brought back. There’s one fewer mouth to feed now. Why spoil everything by trying to blame yourself for Poppydawn?”

But Poppydawn might still be alive if we had come back earlier—if we had come back with the squirrel.

Darkstripe was peering at Longstripe as if he could read his thoughts. “You’ll keep quiet, won’t you?” he hissed, and this time there was a hint of menace behind his eyes. “After all, I saw you eat that squirrel. I’ll tell them what you did, how you insisted on stealing prey from the elders, how you refused to let me bring it back to the camp.”

A hard, cold lump froze inside Longtail. “There’s nothing to tell,” he growled back. “We were sent to hunt for prey, and that’s what we’ve done. No other warrior could have done better.”

As he bent his head to pick up the blackbird and carry it to the fresh-kill pile, a waft of warm air ruffled his fur and a familiar scent brushed over him. Longtail lifted his head in horror.

Poppydawn! I’m so sorry!

Too late, came the silent reply. Too late.

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