The Beginning of the Warrior Code
“Race you to the hawthorn bush!”
“Not fair, Ryewhisker! You know you’ll win!” protested Cloudberry.
Ryewhisker turned to look back at the dark gray she-cat. Cloudberry was slender for a RiverClan cat, but her fur was thick and sleek.
“I’ll give you a head start,” he offered. Cloudberry tipped her head on one side, her blue eyes sparkling. “Or … or I’ll close my eyes, or run backward, or carry a stone in my mouth....”
“Bee-brain,” she purred. She padded up to him and rubbed her head against his cheek. “I’ll race you to the hawthorn if you race me across the river.”
Ryewhisker backed away, shaking his head. “No way! You can’t tell me it’s natural to get your fur wet! I tried it once, don’t you remember?”
“You fell off a stepping-stone! Hardly a proper way to start swimming!”
Ryewhisker reached out with his tail to touch Cloudberry’s flank. “Do you think our kits will be able to run fast and swim?” he meowed softly.
Cloudberry stared at him in astonishment. “How did you know? I … I was going to tell you, I promise, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel. I thought you might want WindClan kits....”
Ryewhisker let out a frustrated mrrrow. “They will be WindClan kits! And RiverClan kits! They will be ours, and that’s all that matters! Do your Clanmates know?”
The she-cat began to roll some small stones restlessly beneath her paw. “Not yet. I wanted to tell you first.”
“You’re worried about what your father will say, aren’t you?” Ryewhisker guessed.
Cloudberry looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “Emberstar is a good leader. You can’t blame him for wanting more RiverClan kits. We need more warriors after that bout of greencough in leaf-bare.”
“But they will be RiverClan kits!” Ryewhisker reminded her. He flicked his tail impatiently. “I’ll let you teach them to swim as soon as they open their eyes!”
“Then you’ll let me raise them in RiverClan?” Cloudberry queried.
Ryewhisker blinked. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Well, yes,” he meowed. “I’ll come stay with you when they’re born, of course. Your father has never minded me staying in your camp. And you can bring them to WindClan when they’re old enough to walk that far.”
Cloudberry nodded, but her eyes were still troubled. Ryewhisker pressed his muzzle against her ear. “It’ll be fine,” he promised. “Every cat knows that Emberstar’s closest friend is Thistletail, in ThunderClan. If any cat understands that friendships don’t stop at the border of a territory, it’s Emberstar.”
“But what about the stolen fish?” Cloudberry asked. Last moon, RiverClan had accused WindClan of stealing fish from the river and had sent a patrol to Duststar, WindClan’s leader, to warn him to keep away. Duststar had insisted his Clan would never eat fish, but Ryewhisker knew the RiverClan cats were still suspicious.
“We didn’t take those fish,” he told Cloudberry. “Maybe these kits will bring our Clans together again.”
Cloudberry relaxed against him and Ryewhisker closed his eyes, imagining tiny lives stirring within her, dark gray like their mother or brown tabby like him, swift-pawed and strong swimmers. These kits would bring peace between the two Clans, he was sure of it.
“WindClan! Retreat!”
Ryewhisker shook his head to clear the blood from his eyes as Stonetail yowled the order. The big gray tom was standing on a tree stump, wild-eyed as he called to his Clanmates to leave the battleground. Ryewhisker leaped back, freeing the RiverClan warrior from beneath his paws. This fight was all RiverClan’s fault! They had accused WindClan twice more of stealing fish and threatened to tell the other Clans that the cats on the moor were thieves and trespassers. As if any WindClan warriors would get their paws wet chasing that slimy prey! Duststar had decided that the only way to stop the complaints was to teach RiverClan that WindClan cats were strong enough to catch their own prey—and well-enough fed not to need anyone else’s.
“Retreat!” Stonetail yowled again.
“Mouse-hearted cowards!” spat a RiverClan warrior behind them.
“If you’re going to steal our fish, you should make sure you’re strong enough to fight us for it!” hissed another.
Ryewhisker felt the fur stand up along his spine, and his paws tingled with the urge to spin around and claw their ears. When would these dumb cats realize that WindClan was not stealing their precious fish? The reeds closed around them as they headed back toward the Twoleg bridge, and for a moment Ryewhisker could hear nothing except his Clanmates’ panting and the rattling of the brittle stalks.
“Stop right there!” screeched a voice up ahead.
Ryewhisker collided with Hawkfur’s haunches as the black warrior halted in front of him. Peering past his Clanmate, he saw a ginger-and-white RiverClan warrior glaring at Stonetail, blocking his way.
“You didn’t think we’d let you go so easily, did you?” growled the RiverClan cat.
Stonetail didn’t flinch. “We’ll continue to fight if we have to,” he replied. “Is that what you want?”
The RiverClan warrior bared his teeth. “This fight is far from over!” He sprang at Stonetail, who rolled onto his back, scrabbling at his attacker’s belly with his hind paws. The reeds clattered together and more RiverClan warriors rushed forward, leaping onto the WindClan cats. A stocky gray tabby sank its claws into Ryewhisker’s shoulder and dragged him onto the ground. Ryewhisker ripped himself free, blood soaking into his fur, and jumped at the warrior with all four paws stretched out. The warrior crouched low and sprang up to meet him, knocking him out of the air and grappling with him as they fell side by side, lying half in and half out of the reeds.
Ryewhisker found himself being smothered by thick gray fur. He wrenched his head up to draw breath—and stared straight into the startled blue eyes of Cloudberry. As he watched, a dark shadow reared up behind her, claws glinting in the sun, and plunged down onto her neck.
“No!” screeched Ryewhisker, leaping up so violently that the attacker, Ryewhisker’s Clanmate Hawkfur, tumbled off into the reeds.
“Ryewhisker, you can’t do this!” called the gray she-cat, who was struggling to her paws. “We have to fight our own battles!”
Ryewhisker glanced at her over his shoulder. “You think I’m going to let our kits be harmed by my own Clanmate?”
Hawkfur stared at him in disbelief. “Kits?” he echoed.
The brown tabby met his gaze. “Cloudberry is expecting my kits. I cannot let you hurt her.”
“Look out!” screeched Cloudberry.
There was a thunder of paws, abruptly cut off as a broad-shouldered RiverClan warrior leaped into the air. Then a soft thud as Ryewhisker’s legs folded under the weight of his attacker and he slumped to the ground, his eyes already closed. Blood pooled out from his shoulder, dark and shiny on the wet ground. The gray tabby scrambled off him, shaking his pelt.
Cloudberry didn’t move, just stared at the limp brown body. “Oh, Ryewhisker, what have you done?” she whispered.
“Is every Clan here?” Duststar called from on top of the huge gray rock. All around him, trees murmured softly in the night breeze, casting blurred shadows across the moonlit hollow. Duststar had asked the other leaders to meet him here because the hollow lay at the center of the Clans, yet it belonged to none since the battle that had separated the Clans for the very first time. The elders who could recall that battle stayed away from the hollow, convinced that the bloodstains would never be washed out of the grass. Duststar had chosen the night of the full moon because it would enable cats to travel safely—and offer none the temptation of darkness to launch an unsuspected attack.
“We are here,” replied Birchstar, leader of SkyClan. He sprang onto the rock to join Duststar, his strong haunches powering him up. The other leaders, unwilling to be left at the foot of the rock, scrambled up, too: Emberstar from RiverClan, Hollystar from ShadowClan, and
Whitestar from ThunderClan, whose pelt glowed as bright as the moon in the half-light. The rest of the cats stayed on the ground, a patrol from each Clan, gazing somberly up at the leaders with their tails tucked over their paws.
“If you’re going to blame my Clan for the death of your warrior—” Emberstar began, raising his hackles.
Duststar shook his head. “No, Emberstar, that’s not why I asked you all to come here. Ryewhisker’s death is a tragedy we can ill afford after such a hard leaf-bare, but it would not have happened if he had not been … attached … to Cloudberry.” He looked down at the RiverClan cats, but Cloudberry was not among them. She was probably too close to having her kits.
“From now on, cats must be loyal only to their own Clanmates. Friendships with cats from another territory must be put aside for the sake of their Clan. We cannot allow our warriors to be distracted in battle or to fight for anything other than what is best for their own Clan. Are we agreed?”
Whitestar stood up. “Clan above all else. It makes sense to me.”
Hollystar and Birchstar nodded. Emberstar meowed, “Well said, Duststar. My Clan is sorry for the loss of your warrior. But from now on, each Clan stands—and fights—alone.”
“If we have less contact across borders, how will we let one another know about something that could be important, such as the arrival of foxes or Twoleg interference?” asked Hollystar, her blue eyes like tiny pieces of sky.
“We could meet here every full moon, when the forest is light enough to walk easily, and come in peace to share our news,” Birchstar suggested.
“A truce?” Duststar meowed.
There was a shocked murmuring among the cats of all Clans.
“We cannot promise peace when ThunderClan steals our prey!” hissed an elderly WindClan warrior.
“And we cannot promise peace while WindClan attacks our border patrols!” meowed a ThunderClan warrior with a torn ear.
“And which of the Clans can trust ShadowClan?” asked another cat.
A great yowling broke out among all the cats.
“Enough!” Duststar growled. He stretched to his full height and stared down at the cats in the hollow. “Birchstar, I see more clearly than ever that your suggestion is wise. Though I doubt any peace will hold even for one night, let us try it and see what it brings.”
“That’s all I ask,” Birchstar meowed.
“Cats of all the Clans!” Duststar continued. “From now on you must defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, as one day you may meet cats you have befriended in battle. This will be our code, the law of warriors, and it is up to each one of us to carry it in our hearts. Until the next full moon, may StarClan guide your path.”
He jumped down from the rock and, with a flick of his tail, led the WindClan cats out of the hollow, toward the moon-washed moor.
CODE TWO
DO NOT HUNT OR TRESPASS ON ANOTHER CLAN’S TERRITORY.
We take it for granted now that each Clan lives in the territory best suited to provide food for its particular hunting skills. But come with me to the time before borders were fixed, when cats took food from other territories if their own ran short. You will see that this code was needed, because if anything is likely to cause trouble, it’s theft of precious fresh-kill.
Finders Keepers
Three seasons had passed since the leaders of the Clans decided to meet in peace each full moon, and the truce had held. Stonestar, the WindClan leader, stood on the Great Rock and surveyed the cats filing into the moonlit hollow. Their pelts stood out sharply against the snow, apart from Whitestar of ThunderClan, who was only visible when he looked up and Stonestar caught a glimpse of his dark eyes.
Whitestar, Emberstar, Birchstar, and Brindlestar, the new leader of ShadowClan, joined him on the rock. The leaders nodded to one another before standing in a line to look down on the cats below.
As the oldest leader, Emberstar was usually the first to speak, but Brindlestar didn’t give him a chance. “I have a complaint against ThunderClan!” she declared.
Whitestar faced her, his tail twitching. “We aren’t the ones stealing prey!” he hissed. “You can’t complain because our patrols drive you out every time.”
“It’s not stealing!” Brindlestar snapped. “What are we meant to eat, if we can’t find prey in our own territory?”
“Each Clan lives in the place where it is best suited to hunting,” Birchstar pointed out.
“Yeah, since when did ShadowClan start hunting in undergrowth and through brambles?” challenged Vinetail, ThunderClan’s deputy.
“Since we started starving in our own territory,” growled Lakestorm, the ShadowClan deputy.
Stonestar stepped forward. “ShadowClan should keep to its own prey,” he meowed firmly. “No Clan has prey to spare, especially not during leaf-bare.”
“Then what are we supposed to eat?” yowled Lakestorm. His voice cut through the icy air, and for a moment the hollow fell silent. Then a creaking sound began....
Stonestar peered up, trying to see where the noise was coming from. In the clearing, the cats huddled together in their Clans, too scared to flee.
Crashhhhhh!
A huge branch ripped away from one of the giant oaks and plunged onto the cats, sending flurries of snowflakes into the air. Stonestar watched in horror as the cats vanished in a swirling cloud of snow and twigs.
“SkyClan! SkyClan! Is every cat all right?” Birchstar ran to the edge of the rock and peered down, calling to her Clanmates. Whitestar and Brindlestar joined her, yowling into the cloud.
“Wait!” Whitestar ordered. Pushing his way through the other leaders, he turned to face them. “One at a time, or no cat will hear you. Birchstar, you go first.” He stepped back, and only his trembling paws showed how terrified he was for the safety of his own Clan.
“SkyClan cats! Can you hear me?” Birchstar yowled.
There was a muffled sound, then a speckled gray head popped up at the edge of the hollow. It was Rainsplash, the deputy. “We’re all here, Birchstar!” he called.
Stonestar stepped forward. The ground seemed a long way down, a mess of churned snow divided by a huge black branch bristling with twigs. “WindClan? Are you there?”
Mudpuddle, the brown-and-white deputy, scrambled up from the far side of the clearing. “All safe, Stonestar!” he reported, and Stonestar let out his breath in relief.
Emberstar quickly established that the RiverClan cats had been too far back to be hit by the falling branch. That left ThunderClan and ShadowClan. The branch had toppled right into the center of the Gathering, directly onto the two quarreling Clans.
Brindlestar walked to the edge of the rock. “ShadowClan, are you all right?”
The leaders waited in silence. Heartbeats passed, broken only by the faint plop of snow sliding from the trees. Then, “We’re all okay, Brindlestar!” A bundle of twigs rattled together at one side of the branch, and Lakestorm pushed his way out. Once he was free, he turned to help his Clanmates out behind him.
Brindlestar narrowed her eyes, checking each member of her patrol. She nodded. “Lakestorm’s right,” she murmured. “ShadowClan is safe.”
Now it was Whitestar’s turn. Stonestar held his breath again. There was no way that branch could have fallen into the hollow without crushing several cats. It was too big, too heavy. It had carved too great a slice through the clearing....
“We’re fine, too!” Before Whitestar could speak, Vinetail’s voice rang out as he wriggled free from a heap of snow. The rest of the ThunderClan cats tumbled out around him, shaking cold, wet clumps from their pelts and out of their ears.
“How can this be?” Whitestar whispered. “That branch fell on top of ThunderClan and ShadowClan; there was no room between them!”
Stonestar looked once more at the massive chunk of tree, then at the two groups of cats standing on either side, unhurt and exclaiming at their good luck.<
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“It’s a sign from StarClan,” Stonestar meowed, loud enough for his fellow leaders to hear but not the cats below. “StarClan is telling us that even when Clans are close together, they are separate, far enough apart for a tree to fall without touching them. Borders may be invisible and thin as a whisker, but they are strong as oak, and they cannot be crossed. Not for friendship, not for prey, not for anything.”
Whitestar was nodding. “It’s a sign,” he said.
Brindlestar was staring in disbelief at the cats of her Clan. They were dazed and shocked but without injuries. Then she looked down at the fallen branch. “StarClan has spared my cats for a reason,” she mewed.
“Find food in your territory,” Stonestar urged. “Use the skills that only you and your Clanmates have—your cunning, stealth, ability to walk through the darkest nights. The prey is there, and you’re the only Clan that can find it.”
“You are right. StarClan must not wish us to take inferior food from inferior Clans.” Brindlestar glanced at Whitestar, who wisely did not respond.
“Then it’s decided,” Emberstar meowed. “Another rule has been added to the warrior code. We must not hunt or trespass on another Clan’s territory.”
“Agreed,” the other leaders mewed in unison. They dipped their heads to one another. “Until the next Gathering, may StarClan walk your path.”
Hunting Fish!
Not all cats obey the code all the time. For where there are young cats and a set of rules to break, there is always mischief brewing....
“O uch! You’re stepping on my foot!”
“Sorry!” puffed Dappletail. “I thought it was a pebble.”
“Since when do pebbles have fur?” demanded White-eye, shaking her paw. She turned so that starlight glowed in her remaining eye; the other had been clawed out by a badger when she was an apprentice, blinding her.