Warriors Bloodlines Book 1: Rising Tension

CHAPTER 1

    A large white cat leaped onto a rock in the middle of a clearing. The clearing was surrounded by trees and brambles, protecting the cats from the cold wind.                                                                            It was leaf-bare, and snow covered the treetops. "All cats old enough to climb the trees in the  forest, gather beneath this rock for a clan meeting," the cat called looking around the clearing. He sat and curled his tail over his paws, as he waited for his clanmates to appear from their dens.                                                                                                                                                                                                 A black and white she-cat nudged a little grey kit into the crowd. By now, the whole clan was sitting around the clearing. "Rubyears kit has reached the age of six moons and is ready to be made an apprentice," the white tom called from the rock. The grey kit flattened his ears, and looked at the dirt on the ground. He was the kit the large tom had been talking about.                            He was being apprenticed, although his mother wouldn't be here to see it. Rubyear had given birth to a litter of 4, though had complications, which had taken her life. All the kits had died along with their mother, but one. That kit was Flykit.                                                                                                 After his mothers death, another queen named Hazelnose had taken him in, as she had just kitted as well. She was good to him, as well as the other queen Darklily, but he would always miss his mother. He never even got to meet her, but somehow it hurt as though he had lost her in his lifetime.                                                                                                                                                                              "Flykit from this day forward until you have earned your warrior name, you shall be known as Flypaw," the large white tom continued, disrupting Flypaws thoughts. "Your mentor shall be Brackenheart."                                                                                                                                                                               Flypaw turned to look for who the large tom was speaking of and saw a golden brown tom step forward, his tabby pelt glowing in the cold morning sun. Brackenheart gestured with his tail for the apprentice to come forward, and the two touched noses. "Meeting dismissed," the large tom called before leaping off of the rock, and began trotting to a tree-den close to the rock. "So Flypaw!" Brackenheart spoke loudly. "Lets begin you're training!"

     Flypaws mentor had shown him around camp, for kits rarely left the safety of the nursery. He had begun by showing him his new den, the Apprentices Den. Inside lay the still bodies of the other apprentices, trying to get in an early morning nap. Brackenheart had introduced the other apprentices with the pointing of his tail. "Viperpaw, Littlepaw, and Pantherpaw," he meowed. Pantherpaw gave a hiss and rolled over.                                                                                                                           Flypaw remembered these three, they had shared the nursery with him, before their own apprentice ceremonies. They were all littermates, sharing the same parents: Dogfur and Darklily. Flypaw didn't know very many cats in the clan, but knew the warrior and queen because they were in the nursery often.                                                                                                                                                        As the two left the Apprentices Den, they saw the black and white Dogfur leading a patrol    out of Camp. He lead two others: The dark tabby Hawkswoop, which he recognized, and an unfamiliar golden tabby. "I haven't gotten to meet him," Flypaw nodded towards the slender golden warrior.                                                                                                                                                                             "Oh that's Slenderclaw. You'll have time to meet him, but for now we must introduce you to the leader." Flypaw was excited. He knew the clans had leaders, but rarely saw the leader to his own clan. He was always so busy.                                                                                                                                         The two entered the tree-den where the large white tom had entered earlier. "Come in," he called. "Hello Flypaw, good to see you!" He rose from where he was laying, towering over the other two toms. "I am Bigstar, your leader, along as the rest of Treeclan!" After talking to the leader for a bit, the two had headed out into the forest.                                                                                              Brackenheart had shown Flypaw Treeclans territory. The hunting rocks, where many mice hid. The large stream, the best place to stop and drink. the borders to the other clans: Frostclan, Gorgeclan, and Marshclan. It had been a tiring day, and as they returned to Camp, Flypaws paws ached.                                                                                                                                                                                                  "Go and get some sleep!" His mentor called, dashing away. "You've had a long day! But if you're hungry, get some Fresh-kill!" he nodded with his head towards the Fresh-kill pile, next to the rock.                                                                                                                                                                                                 Flypaw padded over to it and snatched up a vole. He gulped it in a few quick bites before trotting to the Apprentices Den. The others were asleep, besides Littlepaw, who was giving his back a few quick licks. "Where should I sleep?" Flypaw questioned. Littlepaw turned and looked at him.                                                                                                                                                                                                    "There's a nice spot over there," he pointed with his ears to a bed of moss in the back of the den. "Pantherpaw was forced to make it for you, and was not happy about it." He gave a little chuckle, before continuing licking. Flypaw settled into his nest before quickly being taken over by sleep.