Chapter 2

Chapter 2

          

     

So you see how the clans were created?  Now that that piece of history is over, back to FireClan's leader: Flamestar.  Flamestar was sitting on Oak Branch and had just finished his clan meeting.  He was thinking about how FireClan had grown strong over the few moons since it had started.  With quick hunters like DarkFeather and Robinsong, prey didn't stand a chance.  Those two were the lead hunters in that clan.  Without pressure and a target, the two could not run fast.  But when chasing prey, their senses-like magic-open up.  They take off like lightning after prey, and with a lunge and a quick bite, an addition to the fresh kill pile.  Plus all their other catches.

                But Robinsong and Darkfeather weren't the only stars in the clan.  Thornclaw and Pebblestep were star warriors.  They were like Darkfeather and Robinsong with mice, but they fought off foxes and badgers.  FireClan had never fought against an opponent clan, you see; the clans were all building upon each other to become strong.  Since a bond was still lively between the Northern Clans, the cats pretty much ignored any small suspicions.  StormClan especially, but Flamestar had asked Fastclaw to lead a patrol to check the borders.  Wether it was her height or skills, Ivystar couldn't keep control of her monsters.   The cats were constantly chasing squirrels into FireClan territory, and it was getting very annoying.  Flamestar almost felt sorry for her.  No, I can't be pitying rival clans.  We are enemies, no matter how close of a bond.

                "Hey, Flamestar.  Is it okay if I go on the evening patrol with Fastclaw?  We're short one warrior since Ashfeather needed Pebblestep to help her and Graypaw to colloect herbs." 

                The cat who spoke was the FireClan deputy, Sharpfang.  But Flamestar didn't care how high of rank Sharpfang had.  Sharpfang was more than that to Flamestar.  Sharpfang was Flamestar's best friend.  But anyone could claim they had a best friend, you know.  If anyone had that claim, it was Flamestar.  Something about those two... it was mysterious... some sort of crazy bond between them.  You could see it in their eyes. 

                "Oh, of course, Sharpfang.  You've worked hard today, though.  Don't go kill yourself, okay?"  Sharpfang smiled and nodded.

                Sharpfang was a great deputy.  He took his job seriously, but had time for fun.  Earlier that day, Sharpfang had told the apprentices their patrols for the next few days so they'd know when they could train, and when to sleep in.  And his patrols... perfect.  Sharpfang could put the clan in patrols like pieces to a puzzle: each patrol was paw made, fit together to make the perfect combination.  For example, a hunting patrol had two to three great hunters, and at least one good fighter, with a wise cat to keep everyone else calm in case of a skirmish brewing up.  Sometimes, Sharpfang could even fit a messenger apprentice when stakes of a fight were high.  And with two border patrols and two hunting patrols, most cats had to patrol two to three times.  But with Sharpfang organizing... cats patrolled with a large break to rest and to train apprentices, or to be trained, and to rest and eat.  With Sharpfang around to organise patrols, FireClan was perfect.

                No matter how high of a status Sharpfang had, he was still bossed around by his mate, Snowfur.  Snowfur's name came from her snow-white fur.  She was a beautiful cat, no doubt, with crystal-blue eyes.  She was a lucky one, you know, for she had perfect hearing.  Most white cats with blue eyes are deaf at birth, and are impossible to train to be warriors.  She was very bossy, and often grumpy, but Sharpfang still loved her.  Along with Darkfeather and Bluemist, of course.  They were great friends.  But at that time, they really had to comfort Snowfur, for she was expecting kits. 

                And Flamestar hoped that one day he would have kits on his own.  Flamestar loved the key huntress in his clan.  She could catch a squirrel anytime she tried.  And Ashfeather was often complaining at how she was always seeing omens and stealing her job as a medicine cat.  Flamestar often wondered why, you guessed it, Robinsong didn't become a medicine cat.  But he was thankful she didn't.  Medicine cats can't have mates. 

                "Flamestar, I'm taking Graypaw to recieve her warrior name."  Flamestar looked down to see Ashfeather beside an ecstatic Graypaw.  He chuckled.

                "That's right, it’s the half-moon.  Good luck," Flamestar said, still watching the cream-colored cat by the fresh kill pile.  He didn't even hear himself sigh.  Ashfeather began to laugh.   Flamestar shook his head and looked at her.  She winked.

                "Just because I'm a medicine cat doesn't mean I can't see the obvious," Ashfeather said, laughing.  Graypaw giggled.

                "Don't you have other things to do beside mooning over Robinsong?" Graypaw asked, giggling more.  She was shushed by a glaring Ashfeather.

                "Don't you be rude now, Graypaw.  I can always delay your ceremony, you know," Ashfeather said.  Graypaw pushed her paw to her muzzle and nodded.  Ashfeather stepped toward Flamestar.

                "Go ask her, Flamestar, before someone else does.  She'll understand, you know," Ashfeather whispered.  As Flamestar looked at Robinsong, she met his gaze and smiled.  Flamestar weakly smiled back.