Clanless Woods-a Fanfic by Hazeldust

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~Author's note: I haven't read all the Warriors books yet so I don't exactly know if my characters are real or fake! (Please don't make fun of me ) So, just go along with this, shall we...~

Nightstorm shot up an ancient oak tree delicately, and settled down in a cosy crook where two thick branches protruded from the trunk. Just as his eyelids drooped over his green eyes, a loud rustling noise from the ground woke him up. Hissing irritably, he shook himself roughly and crouched down, ready to pounce on an enemy. True, now there weren't any clans in the forest, after the many battles that tore apart the clans and destroyed them completely. It started when Shadowclan made an alliance with Windclan, and together they had pushed Riverclan out of their territory. But soon after their dark victory, Shadowclan turned traitor, and got rid of Windclan as well. A torrent of cats, both survivors from Windclan and Riverclan returned, ready for revenge, and Shadowclan still wanted Thunderclan's territory. The forest erupted into vicious battles, which ultimately ended all clans. Even the clan leader, MorningStar had died, despite her nine lives. The remaining cats roamed the woods freely, paying no matter to boundary lines and territories any more. Remaining cats such as Nightstorm, who still needed to watch his own back.

"Hey, Nightstorm! It's me! Are you up there?" A cheery voice piped up from the base of the trunk, and Nightstorm rolled his eyes, and climbed down the rough bark. "What do you want, Sorrelpaw?" He snapped at his former apprentice, glaring at his dusty brown-grey fur and wide, grey eyes sparkling with innocence, even after the bloody battles that lasted for several moons. "You promised that you'd still continue my training! I mean, sure, I probably won't ever get my warrior name now, but I still want to be a great hunter and a fiercefighter! Please, Nightstorm? You promised!" Nightstorm regretted his choice the day before, but he had given into his apprentice's wheedles and whines. "Fine," he growled, flicking his tail irritably. "Meet me here at sunhigh tomorrow." "Yes, Nightstorm!" Sorrelpaw yowled joyfully and shot out of view. Probably to go chase beetles or something, Nightstorm thought idly. Might as well go hunting, he thought feeling a pang of hunger prod his stomach.

He scented a tasty mouse, and he tracked the scent, tasting the air with his mouth open. He finally saw the brown mouse, who was nibbling a seed behind a gray boulder near the river. Stalking it silently, Nightstorm pounced, and killed it with one blow. Purring with anticipation, Nightstorm carried the dead mouse to a flattish boulder and devoured the mouse, crunching its small bones and tearing its delicious flesh. He left the remains on the rock, and leapt down to the ground to lap up some water in a small pool of water from the rain the night before. It was quiet, with the wind whispering through the treetops and and river gushing in the distance. No blood or enemies lurking around, ready to pounce on me, he tought contentedly. Feelin unused energy course through his legs, he bounded into the trees, heading towards Sunningrocks. Maybe he'll have his nap there.

He skidded to a halt, and leapt up a warm boulder, soaking in the warmth from the sun. Flopping down the warm surface, waves of exhaustion rolled over Nightstorm once more, and he was on the brink of sleep when another soft voice whispered, "Nightstorm?" Can't anyone get a clawlength of sleep around here? he thought, annoyed. He cracked open one eye, and saw a pearly gray she-cat with gentle blue eyes peering down at him. He scrambled to his paws, fighting off his sleep. "Dawnpelt!" He meowed happily, nuzzling her flank. He thought one of his best friends ahd died in the battles...but no, Dawnpelt was well and alive, right in front of him! "Nightstorm," she purred, licking the fur on his forehead. "I'm glad you're not dead," she murmered, and Nightstorm snorted. "As if. Those Shadowclan warriors would have thought a shadow with teeth fell on them, not a cat," he boasted proudly. Dawnpelt huffed quietly, half in amusement, half-annoyed. "Did you meet anyone else?" He asked, changing the subject. "Yes, Goldenstripe survived with me. We've been hunting together, and she tended to our wounds from the battles." Nightstorm sighed in relief. It was good to hear that their medicine cat had somehow survived as well. "That's good to hear," he replied earnestly. "Sorrelpaw also made it through," he added gruffly. Dawnpelt's queer blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "At least you had some company," she consoled him, flicking her tail. "I guess-" He tried to stifle an enourmous yawn, but failed. "Go to sleep. I'll be here," she purred, and started to groom him, licking his inky-black pelt. Nightstorm felt his eyelids droop once more, and he felt sleep conquer his mind.
But he would have preferred if he had stayed awake, because his dreams weren't exactly pleasant.

Nightstorm was running, running as hard as he could through the forest. Suddenly, the firm ground gave away, melting into dark nothingness. The trees disappeared, replaced by twinkling lights. Nightstorm skidded to a halt. Huh? Where am I? He turned wildly, trying to see where he was, but all he could see was blue-blackness and stars. "Nightstorm," a silvery voice whispered. He turned and yelped. It was a cat-one made up of smoky tendrils of mist and bright stars for eyes. But the pattern of his pelt, the flat muzzle, the pointed ears..."Smokefur?" Nightstorm murmered in awe. He had watched his friend get mauled by two wiry Shadowclan cats, but now here he was, greater and more dazzling than before. His misty, dark grey pelt streaked through with lighter stripes of silver was replaced with the hazy wisps of his spirit, and his bright yellow eyes were shining stars, but he was still friendly Smokefur.

"I look quite dazzling, don't I?" Smokefur meowed smugly. Nightstorm rolled his eyes and snorted-yep, Smokefur was still definitely himself, right down to the small crooked end of his tail. "But you are in grave danger." Smokefur's buoyant attitude suddenly vanished, leaving a dark seriousness that Nightstorm wasn't accustomed to. "What do you mean, I'm in danger? The battles are over. The forest is at peace again. No more boundary lines, every cat is free to roam the entire forest," Nightstorm purred. "Look where you are, Nightstorm. Look down," Smokefur meowed gently. Nightstorm looked around him, and realized he was in Starclan, surrounded by faint silver outlines of cats. Only him, with his dark pelt, blended in with the night sky. Then he glanced down, and saw himself lying on a boulder, with Dawnpelt pressing next to his flank.

"I-I see myself," Nightstorm stammered. "But how-?" "Your spirit is up here, with Starclan." "But I'm not dead!" Nigtstorm cried, thrashing his tail around in anxiety. "No, you're not," Smokefur said seriously. "But there is a great darkness looming ahead of you, far ahead. Too much in advance to outrun. You will face it when the time is right...but for the time being, you will be safe in the forest. Rest, Nightstorm. You will need power and courage to survive what is in store for you." "What? What darkness? Tell me, Smokefur!" Nightstorm meowed. "Gain your energy. Many things are predicted to befall your way. Be brave, my friend. Do not share the same cruel fate as I," he smiled ruefully. Smokefur started to seep away, melting back into the fathomless sky. "No, Smokefur! Come back!" Nightfur yowled, launching himself across the sky. "Be brave, Nightstorm," Smokefur's faint voice trailed back into Nightstorm's ears. Then he was falling, falling back to the earth. He struggled and writhed in panic, but he couldn't stop falling...

...Until the moment he nearly struck the earth, he was jostled from his sleep.

(Authors Note: Hopefully I didn't screw up. And this posts in the right place. There will be more...Did anyone like it? )

so when does the next clanless woods comeout? I'm waiting patiently....though I'm starting to get shaky with anticipation. Or is cuz of all the party coke?

Real good story!

thanks to all the supportive people!! er..cats.
there'll be more hopefully tomorrow...
I don't know why I'm so attracted to the weird cyclops..

Hahaha. I'm going to add to Dawn.

TawnyPelt wrote:thanks to all the supportive people!! er..cats.
there'll be more hopefully tomorrow...
I don't know why I'm so attracted to the weird cyclops..

Cyclops?!

yeah! oh wait...they took the cyclops smiley away. WAAH! that's why it wasn't showing up..

TawnyPelt wrote:yeah! oh wait...they took the cyclops smiley away. WAAH! that's why it wasn't showing up..

Oh no! I'll ask him for some fighting smilies hehe!

AGH!! the cyclops is gone!!!
and so are some other ones!!!!

AWW...
T.T

We should send a petition! He gave us cool ones but he took away some that we liked!

And maybe we should sign a petition about no eating members too!

heehee. no more eating members. BUT... CYLCOPS IS BACK!! along with fighting smileys.. :fcannon: :fcannon: :srifle: hey, these are pretty cool.

“What’s happening?” Goldenstripe’s sleepy voice floated out of the makeshift den. She padded out, her two small kits ambling next to her. Her pale golden fur glinted in the weak sunshine that filtered through the smoky grey clouds that gathered and knitted across the sky. Amberkit and Stormkit struggled to walk. Dawnpelt looked at her, stricken. “We’re in another Clan’s territory,” Nightstorm murmered nervously, flicking his tail. The white she-cat hadn’t moved yet, but her gleaming ice-blue eyes glittered dangerously. Goldenstripe cried out in fear, bundling her kits closer to herself. “But-I thought the clans all disappeared with the battles,” she meowed fretfully, glancing at the surrounding enemy cats. “Not this one,” Dawnpelt whispered, despair drowning her voice. “I’m so sorry, Goldenstripe. This is all my fault. We should have never came here,” Dawnpelt said, a dead tone ringing in her voice.

“No,” Sorrelpaw butted in, with a quiver in his voice. “If this does turn out to be a fight, Goldenstripe, you run as far as you can and escape. Me, Dawnpelt, and Nightstorm will escort you to the exit and then fight our way out,” Sorrelpaw meowed bravely. “Well, you just alerted the enemy of our plans, bee-brain,” Nightstorm muttered crossly, his neck fur rising in anxiety. The cats still hadn’t moved, which was unnerving. With a simple flick of her tail, the white she-cat could have attacked them all, ripping their fur from their flesh…Nightstorm glanced up again, and the she-cat was staring intently at them. Nightstorm cleared his throat-perhaps he could make them understand.

“We are no threat,” he called out, while Dawnpelt, Sorrelpaw, and Goldenstripe looked at him, surprised. “Riverclan, Thunderclan, Windclan, and Shadowclan no longer exist. There were great battles, lasting for moons. In the end, barely any cats survived. But I did, along with a few of my friends,” he gestured to Dawnpelt and the others. “We needed somewhere safe to be. The forest still is spike with danger lurking in every corner. Goldenstripe,” he flicked his tail towards her, “Needed a safe place for her kits.” Nightstorm paused, waiting for the she-cat’s reaction. But she remained still, but her ears and eyes were alert, absorbing every detail of Nightstorm’s story. “We will leave now, and never return, if it is to be you wish. We are no threat,” he repeated. “We did not know there was a clan here,” Sorrelpaw piped up, earning a horrified glare from Nighstorm. Sorrelpaw always stumbled over his words, making them seem false and childish.

“You must be extremely skilled warriors. We could not find a hair or pawprint or scent around the area,” Sorrelpaw murmered in awe. Nightstorm let out a silent sigh. At least Sorrelpaw hadn’t spoken gibberish this time. He looked at the she-cat for any sign that they would be left alive, but she still regarded them with the same cold look. Finally, she nodded towards her army, but called out, “Iceflight, Raggedflame, and Sootstreak, bring your apprentices with me.” Then she leaped down from the tree, landing neatly on the scrubby earth, and slid silently across the dirt ground, and halted in front of Nightstorm. Her eyes had a haughty look to them, but also wisdom-and pain. A pale, silver cat with abnormally sharp ears, along with an orange tabby with ragged streaks of brown, and finally, a smoky grey-black cat with dark, shadowed eyes that took everything in and revealed nothing. Three young cats, one golden like Goldenstripe, a dark grey tabby, and one mud-brown cat with a clumsy gait trotted after them, looking suspicious and frightened.

The white she-cat cleared her throat to get Nightstorm’s attention. He had been gazing curiously at the dark brown cat, who looked lost and forlorn. “I am Moonstar,” she meowed, still appraising them with icy eyes. “This is Iceflight and her apprentice, Opalpaw,” she flicked her tail towards the ice crey cat and the warm, golden-furred cat who regarded Nightstorm with bright, intelligent eyes like pools of green water. “Raggedflame and his apprentice, Stormpaw,” she gestured to the orange-brown warrior and the younger grey cat. “And Sootstreak, and his apprentice, Ochrepaw,” she introduced them all formally. “I am Nightstorm. This is Sorrelpaw, Dawnpelt, Goldenstripe, and her kits, Amberkit and Stormkit,” Nightstorm gestured to each of them in turn. Moonstar gazed at them steadily, as if trying to find a lie in their story. Then she nodded subtly to the other strange cats, and then turned back to Nightstorm. He swallowed nervously. Did she decide to kill us after all? Nightstorm wondered nervously.

“Is it true that you have no home, no place to go?” She asked imperiously. Nightstorm nodded sincerely. “Very well. It seems that you two,” she nodded at Nightstorm and Dawnpelt, “Are skilled warriors. Otherwise, you would have not survived the destructive battles. Sorrelpaw, too. He is a promising young apprentice. You, as well,” she turned her gaze at Goldenstripe, who returned her gaze steadily. “You are a medicine cat. I can tell that much. Our medicine cat died recently, but her apprentice is not yet skilled enough.” Moonstar took a deep breath. “I would like to welcome you to Deathclan."

Nighstorm looked at her, shocked. Something like this happened very rarely. Cats who knew a life other than inside a clan would be driven out, or held prisoner, not given a place in the clan. “A-are you sure? We could simply leave,” Nightstorm stammered. “We are very grateful for you offer, though,” Dawnpelt chimed in. “I wish for you to stay in my clan,” Moonstar said firmly, and something warm and kind glowed in her eyes. The former cold haughtiness had disappeared. “Thank you,” Goldenstripe whispered. Nighstorm, Dawnpelt, and Sorrelpaw echoed her grateful murmer. “Follow me,” Moonstar said, and turned, bounding into the unknown forest.

Nightstorm picked up Stormkit, grabbing his scruff in his mouth. Dawnpelt grabbed Amberkit, and they followed Moonstar, the other Deathclan cats taking up the rear. Unfamiliar scents rose around them as they pounded quietly through the forest. “I hope this isn’t a ploy,” Dawnpelt muttered, speaking around the fur of Amberkit’s neck. “Moonstar would never lie. She would swear it on Starclan, but we trust her enough to take her word,” Raggedflame growled behind her. Dawnpelt jumped a little, and ran a little faster, just to avoid the dark warrior’s grumpy stare. Sorrelpaw’s eyes were still wide with fright, and Goldenstripe kept casting furtive glances at the Deathclan warriors behind them. “I don’t like them very much,” Goldenstripe whispered fearfully. “Deathclan? What kind of welcoming clan has a name like that?” “Guess we’ll have to find out,” Nighstorm growled darkly.

Niiice...
Moonstar.. nice name!!!
And thats a really unexpected story...
that they get into a new clan

well, the deathclan kitties didn't end up ripping everyone's head off. ah well.

sucks for you..

No, I made it that way. Rippin' everyone's head off would mess up the story.

After running steadily for a few minutes, Nightstorm started to pick up more distinct scents. It didn’t smell like any Clan cats, prey, or anything he’d every smelled before. It stung his eyes and made his nose wrinkle-it made him want to turn around and run far, far away. Stormkit started to squirm and fidget, trying to avoid the pungent scent. He started to wail piteously, until Goldenstripe matched her pace to Nightstorm’s to nuzzle him. “Ssh, my kit,” she whispered, panting a little from the running and the horrible smell. “Why does the air hurt my nose?” Sorrelpaw complained loudly. Nightstorm and Dawnpelt both sent him death glares, but Stormpaw, behind them, chuffed with laughter. He sped up, and matched his pace with Sorrelpaw.
“It’s our defence. Eventually, it makes your mind feel fuzzy and you can’t remember anything. Pretty soon, you turn back and never come again,” Stormpaw explained. “Well, I hope we get to your camp soon,” Sorrelpaw muttered, and sneezed. “I don’t my memory to get wiped.”Stormpaw, not slowing down, turned to Goldenstripe. “If your kit grows up to be an apprentice, he’ll have the same name as me,” he whispered kindly. “If?” Goldenstripe echoed fearfully. “That is, unless you want to leave or he becomes an apprentice to the medicine cat,” he rushed on, avoiding the word death. Goldenstripe nodded, a bit uncertainly. Can Stormkit become apprentice to his own mother? Nightstorm wondered idly.

“We’re almost there,” Raggedflame rumbled from behind them, and Moonstar didn’t look back once, her pale haunches flashing back and forth as she ran. The spicy air started to die down, moulding into delicate scents of wildflowers and trees-and more importantly, prey. Stormkit stopped squalling, but Amberkit had remained limp and still the entire journey. Dawnpelt sniffed her anxiously, but Amberkit still breathed. “The bad air will trouble my kits’ breathing for the rest of their lives,” Goldenstripe fretted. “Their young bodies haven’t had enough time to develop.” “You are a medicine cat, are you not?” Sootstreak demanded from behind her. Goldenstripe turned around to glare at him. “Yes, but some internal damage is too deep for even the best healer to treat.” Sootstreaked shrugged, a slight motion of his broad shoulders, and hissed at his apprentice to catch up. Ochrepaw stumbled clumsily on his large paws and tried to hurry.

“Welcome to Deathclan’s camp,” Moonstar announced proudly after a few more minutes of running. Nightstorm halted, dropping a squirming Stormkit on the forest floor. Goldenstripe instantly padded over and started to lick him carefully, then Amberkit. Dawnpelt and Nightstorm, black and white, pressed against eachother. The camp was larger than any of the other clan camps they have seen.

It was a network of dens and trees, cats were sharing tongues in a sunny area, others were bringing back prey. Some padded across the packed-down earth; others leaped lightly from tree to tree, flashes of fur hidden behind lush, green leaves. A group of cats returned from a hunting group, each carrying a piece of prey. Some cats wandered over to Moonstar, who waited expectantly for Nightstorm’s conclusion. Raggedflame, Sootstreak, and Iceflight slunk away silently, their apprentices following them. “It’s extremely impressive,” Nightstorm began, scanning the treetops. “Much bigger than any other clan camp we’ve seen. The cats here seem well fed, too,” Nightstorm added, eyeing the plump kits that rolled in the dirt, and the muscled warriors who sat eating prey. “So organized.” Dawnpelt suddenly said. Goldenstripe squinted at the community of cats, then lifted her nose to smell the air. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Not a single trace of Twolegs and their harmful waste,” she murmered. “And so many healing herbs and plants. Such good prey, clean water.” Moonstar nodded, acknowledging the praise. “And now you are a part of Deathclan,” she confirmed. “I will announce your arrival immediately.” “Wait,” Nightstorm interjected. “This clan is excellent. Why would it have such a forbidding name as Deathclan?” Moonstar stiffened a bit. “I will tell you later. But remember, names do not hold power. They are only used to label authority and strength, but it is empty in itself.” With that, Moonstar disappeared. “Follow me.” Iceflight had returned. “Did you hear me? I said, follow me!” She stabbed at them with her cool voice.

They started in surprise, then followed her through the camp, but strangely, none of the cats looked at them strangely, or hostilely. A few young kits and apprentices looked at them curiously, but older warriors and elders merely glanced at them passively. Iceflight led them to an outcropping pile of boulders near a gurgling creek, and one especially large, flat one was balanced at the top. Almost like the Highrock at Thunderclan camp, Nightstorm thought with a pang. Smaller rocks and stones littered the ground near the large, flat boulder, onto which Moonstar leaped onto, and yowled, “All cats old enough to catch their own prey gather at Creekstones.” Creekstones, Nightstorm mused, looking at the sparkling water. Iceflight nudged Nighstorm’s flank, and whispered, “You go stand on the smaller, flat, boulder.” Nighstorm pounced onto it, followed by Goldenstripe, Dawnpelt, Sorrelpaw, and the kits.

Moonstar dipped her head to them in acknowledgement, and waited until an assortment of cats gathered near the Creekstones. “Today, the morning patrol found unknown cats taking refuge in the spare nesting place. They alerted me of their presence, and we took a group of skilled warriors to investigate, in case they were dangerous. It turned out that they are peaceable, and their previous home was destroyed. They are strong and skilled, so I welcomed them into Deathclan,” Moonstar meowed, an authorative hint to her voice. “Nightstorm, you will continue your warrior name here, in Deathclan, as well as Dawnpelt,” she directed her gaze at Nightstorm. He dipped his head respectfully, as Dawnpelt did. “Sorrelpaw, did you have a previous mentor?” She turned her attention to the small, brown cat. “Yes, Nightstorm was my mentor,” he responded. “Good. However, I would like you to learn our fighting techniques. Therefore, I will assign Jaystep as your new mentor.” A slim, tabby tomcat slid out of the mass of cats, and touched noses with Sorrelpaw. Sorrelpaw turned and flashed Nightstorm a look that said Sorry. Nightstorm never was particularly fond of Sorrelpaw, but it hurt slightly to see his apprentice given to a stranger cat.
“Goldenstripe, you will be our new medicine cat. Deathclan does not believe in the rule that medicine cats are forbidden to have kits,” Moonstar continued. “However, Amberkit and Stormkit will be taken care of by another queen, for you will be busy as a healer. You will still have the role of their mother, and will be able to visit them as often as possible.” Moonstar took a deep breath. “I welcome you to Deathclan.” “Nightstorm, Dawnpelt, Goldenstripe,” the cats chanted. “Sorrelpaw, Amberkit, Stormkit. Welcome to Deathclan. Welcome.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA INSTEAD OF NIGHTSTORM, YOU WROTE NIGHTFROST!!!
"Nightfrost thought with a pang. Smaller rocks and stones littered the ground near the large, flat boulder, onto which Moonstar leaped onto, and yowled, “All cats old enough to catch their own prey gather at Creekstones.”
see!!??
Yay! I'm in the story!

hmph. well too bad, you're not there anymore. and anyways, I thought of the name nightstorm BEFORE you registered to this site.

Why DEATHClan?????? :shurriken: :fcannon: :fcannon: :fthrower: :rifle: :srifle: :mgun: :tank:

You'll find out.

There is a mysterious diesases that makes them all die?

ah...no.

Nightfrost wrote:There is a mysterious diesases that makes them all die?

It's called cancer.....though AIDS would work too

Huh?

“Bee-brain!” Raggedflame hissed as Nightstorm stumbled over a protruding tree-root. Nightstorm grimaced, but sprinted on. They were on the dawn patrol, making sure no wandering cats would find DeathClan-if they would have gotten through the peppery air. But still-they could have taken refuge in the spare dens as Dawnpelt and Goldenstripe had. However, Raggedflame was grumbling and complaining under his breath at how Nightstorm was slacking off. “Hurry up, will you?” He growled, deliberately running faster. Nightstorm rolled his eyes, but padded faster silently. Raggedflame seemed to have some sort of personal grudge against Nightstorm. Every time Nightstorm looked at the striped warrior, his yellow eyes seemed to gleam with hostility. Why me? Nightstorm twitched his tail in irritation. I hadn’t done anything to infuriate him. Have I?

Beechfeather, a pale, creamy-grey tabby, strode on quietly. Ochrepaw, Raggedflame’s apprentice tripped over his large paws, earning a swift cuff from his mentor. Tears welling in his eyes, Ochrepaw mumbled, “Sorry, Raggedflame.” Shaking his dusty-brown pelt, he attempted to leap over a fallen tree branch, but managed to tumble off it, scuffling in the earth and leaves. “You make more noise than a bunch of songbirds! Why can’t you do anything right? You can’t even walk without falling over your paws!” Raggedflame stopped running and glared at his cowering apprentice. Small scratches oozed dark blood, and Ochrepaw hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, his tongue thick and limp. Nightstorm felt a pang of sorrow for the small cat, and a spike of resentment towards Raggedflame. Why couldn’t he just lay off his young apprentice for a while?

Raggedflame snorted, and growled, “You’re not going to get any fresh-kill today if you don’t improve.” Springing into the forest, Nightstorm and Beechfeather followed him, Ochrepaw struggling behind them. “Keep going,” Nightstorm whispered kindly. Beechfeather looked at him curiously, and Nightstorm returned her steady gaze. Some Deathclan cats aren’t exactly that friendly, he mused, as he sniffed for any strange cats. His own scent had been masked by a type of herb that only grew in Deathclan’s boundaries. Apparently, when it was mixed with crushed poppy seeds, it would create a peppery paste that the cats would rub over the trees and plants, warding off any enemies. Or, if it was mixed with marigold leaves, it would just hide your scent completely. Nightstorm had to rub the lumpy paste into his fur every night, and it was troublesome.

After Nightstorm returned from the dawn patrol, he padded over to the medicine cat’s den. “Goldenstripe?” He meowed, receiving a muffled call in return. He entered the cool den, which was set into a large boulder, carved through by generations of wind and rain. It had provided shelter to rabbits and other forest creatures, until it had hollowed out into a cave, and Deathclan settled in. Goldenstripe lay on a nest of soft moss and leaves, nursing her kits. Amberkit suckled greedily, but Stormkit eventually wandered off, wobbling on weak legs. Recognizing Nightstorm, he purred, and rubbed against Nightstorm’s strong front legs. Licking the young kit’s grey head affectionately, he turned to Goldenstripe. “Your kits are doing well,” he meowed. “Yes, and this Clan is so disease-free, I have much time to act as their mother.” She purred proudly at her first litter of kits.

“This Clan…” Nightstorm hesitated. “You still think it is a ploy?” Goldenstripe looked up at him. “Well, yes,” he admitted, flicking his tail. “Just that you have kits, and they’re an entire clan, and if worst comes to worst…” he trailed off. “You think that we would all die?” Goldenstripe finished his sentence wryly. “Yes,” Nightstorm said, relieved. At least now he knew that he wasn’t the only one who was still apprehensive.

“This thought has crossed my mind, but I truly think this clan is not dangerous. At least, not to us,” Goldenstripe told him gently. “How do you know? They still haven’t told us why they’re DeathClan,” he fretted, frustrated. “StarClan still hadn’t abandoned us. Perhaps there was a reason for the Clans to fall apart, but then we stumble on a hidden clan, living in secrecy.” Nightstorm shook his head unbelievingly at Goldenstripe’s soft words. He knew StarClan had abandoned them when the battles raged, and tore apart everything worth living for, fighting for…Well, apart from Goldenstripe and her kits. And Dawnpelt. Oh, fine. And Sorrelpaw, he added. He got up, shaking his pelt. “I’ll get you some fresh-kill,” he muttered, and walked out of the den.

With a chaffinch and two mice dangling from his jaws, he turned back to the medicine cat’s den, but he bumped straight into Raggedflame. The dark warrior’s yellow eyes glared at him, but Nightstorm stared back, defiantly. He couldn’t say anything with his mouth full of warm prey. “Don’t interfere with my apprentice. You’ll spoil the warrior he’ll become.” Nightstorm felt his hot breath on his muzzle, but nodded curtly, brushing past him. Dropping the chaffinch and a mouse at Goldenstripe’s paws, he sat down heavily. “I don’t like Raggedflame,” he grumbled, picking at his mouse. “Just avoid him,” Goldenstripe murmered in a faraway tone of voice. She was staring intently at the chaffinch. He noticed, and nudged it closer towards her with a black paw. “It’s good prey! Why aren’t you eating?” He mumbled around a mouthful of prey. Goldenstripe flicked her tail, signalling him to quiet down.

Nightstorm shrugged, and glanced at the dead bird curiously. He never really looked at his prey, unless it smelled like crowfood. But as he looked into the faded, glassy eyes that stared blankly at the wall, and noticed the drops of its own blood spattered against its red breast and white-and-black striped wings, he felt a pang of sorrow. The bird had a beautiful plumage, if you stopped to notice it. Its’ smoky blue head was limp, lying across the dirt floor, but Nightstorm still didn’t understand Goldenstripe’s curiosity. Just then, its’ beak moved open, and a silvery wisp floated into the murky air. Nightstorm took a sharp breath, staring at the smoky sliver. It expanded and twisted, until it formed into Smokefur, his fur truly made of smoke. Goldenstripe gasped, her eyes filling with tears. Smokefur’s eyes blinked open, sparkling stars shining in the mass of writhing steam. He gazed at the two cats, confusedly at first, but then understanding bloomed in his expression.

“Hi, Goldenstripe!” He purred happily, but then noticed her miserable expression. “Aw, don’t be sad,” he mewed playfully, nuzzling Goldenstripe’s head. She sniffed, and then smiled, nudging her two kits. “These are really my kits?” He stared at them, and they stared back, dumbfounded. “Hi, kits. I’m your father!” He exclaimed jokingly. Nightstorm thought that Smokefur would never be mature enough to be a serious father. Amberkit mewled in fright and burrowed into Goldenstripe’s belly fur, but Stormkit looked up in awe, his pink nose almost touching Smokefur’s broad, faded one. Nightstorm found his voice, and said hoarsely, “Smokefur?” Smokefur turned, still floating in mid air. “Hey, Nightstorm! Uh, maybe I shouldn’t be floating like this,” he muttered sheepishly, and landed on the dusty ground with a thump. “Wha-?” Nightstorm couldn’t speak coherently. “Um, I’m supposed to deliver a message,” Smokefur confessed. His eyes glazed over, and he stood stock still. His jaws gaped, and a rasping voice echoed in the cold cave.

“Danger awaits you in every path. Be bold, be brave, escape evil’s wrath. Night provides the safest cover; many waters cannot drown two lovers. Though the sun may shine warmly, you must always know thine enemy.” The shining stars blinked back to life in Smokefur’s eyes, and he shook his ghostly pelt. “Brr, what just happened?” He meowed, blinking. “Erm, you just delivered your message,” Goldenstripe murmured nervously. Smokefur shrugged. “Well, I don’t remember.” He looked back at his kits.

“Amberkit and Stormkit,” Nightstorm whispered. A fond warmth flooded Smokefur’s eyes, and he glanced gratefully at both cats. “Thanks,” he muttered, his eyes shining. “For what?” Nighstorm asked, his heart tearing in two. Though it was good to see Smokefur, despite in spirit form, he still felt responsible, as if he could have prevented his death. “For surviving,” Smokefur whispered, his wispy pelt melting into the air. “Live for me, Nightstorm. Take care of my kits…” his voice hung in the heavy air, the chaffinch limp and dead once again. “Good bye, Smokefur,” Nightstorm whispered, and Goldenstripe echoed him. Though it was bizarre to see a dead cat come back to life as a shadow, they felt mournful all over again, taking everything in stride. Stormkit still stared into the air where his father had been, his musky scent still lingering. Amberkit had fallen asleep, breathing deeply in the crook of Goldenstripe’s legs. None of them spoke.

~Teehee, I'm done. So...was it bad? ~