Hello! PK here, and I want you to know that I do not own Warriors. I want to, but the real stuff is created by the fantabulous Erin Hunter. Also, if you go to RP chat rooms, this is a SnowClan of my own invention. Don't tell me I'm wrong. Because I'm not.
(This Clan is a separate one so they don't use the same words as the original four Clans or separate dens, etc. like they do.)
The realm outside of the Meetingcave was white, almost as if the Clan lived in a blank canvas painted with nothing but themselves. The leader sat perched on the tallest stalagmite, illuminated by the glow of the only fire. She looked dismal like the rest of the apprentices and warriors. Their fur was bristled with ice.
"Today...was not a successful hunting day," she announced. "We all must go back to the Flatlands." The cats groaned, and a tall tom named Fleetpaw growled. "You—you obviously—don't understand—what we went through today!" He gasped for air and looked ready to pounce, but his mentor, Frigidstrike, placed a calming paw on his back and mewed, "We are all quite tired out, Blizzardstar. May we try again tomorrow morning?"
Daffodil, a Queen, rose from the crowd. "If we go back, who will nurture the kits? Who will feed the young?" she spat. This got many meows from the Clan. "Hush!" Blizzardstar flicked her tail. "Fine—you may all rest. We will leave again tomorrow morning." The Clan bowed and left.
Suddenly, the click-click of small claws scraping against the rocky floor echoed throughout the cave. Blizzardstar hopped down to greet three Top Apprentices: Pinepaw, Winterpaw, and Snowpaw. They exchanged bows and the kittens told Blizzardstar their news. "I went to go record the Freshkill-place's stock with Winterpaw and Snowpaw," said Pinepaw, panicked. "We only have five mice left!"
Blizzardstar gasped, teeth bared. "How could I have been so careless?! Not checking the Freshkill-place! Oh, StarClan, help me!" Winterpaw had a suggestion. "We could go hunting for SnowClan. Maybe, since we checked the Freshkill-place, it's our responsibility." Blizzardstar's eyes widened. Responsibility, responsibility, responsibility... Words began to echo in her head, then stopped bouncing to form words. The words were the Story then told to the apprentices.
SNOWCLAN'S LEGEND
A trio, born of the clan of snow
On a dangerous trek will go
To seek the one who makes prophecies
And stop the infinite cold white seas.
These three kittens are as follows:
One named for the wooded hollows
Another christened by the season of cold
And the last called by the frozen crystals of old.
The three apprentices sat with their mouths gaping. They were still as statues. "So, we...we were meant for this? The prophecy we learned in apprentice training—it's about us?" Pinepaw asked. He looked shaken as though fresh out of battle with a rogue Whitefox. Winterpaw and Snowpaw hopped up in front of him. "We can! We can do it!" Blizzardstar, though still wide-eyed, was proud of their bravery. "Are you sure?" All three nodded. "Alright," the steel-blue leader smiled. "We'll announce it in the morning at the Sun-Up Gathering. That way, everyone will realize the prophecy we've held for centuries was for you."
"What do we need to do, leader Blizzardstar?" Snowpaw meowed. "Go visit the soothsayer Rainbowtail at the frozen pond. She'll be able to tell us if the snow will stop so we can hunt."
The three apprentices started to bound off to bed when Blizzardstar whispered, "Good luck."
"Do you think we'll actually do it, Winterpaw? Can we make it?" Winterpaw murmured to Pinepaw in the Apprentice Den. Pinepaw rolled over in her sleep and accidentally hit Snowpaw in the muzzle. "Ye...esss—ssszzz..." Winterpaw smiled. "That's what I was thinking, too."