She bounded across the shingles, enjoying the feeling of cold wind on her pelt. This was the first time she was allowed outside of the camp, without some warrior telling her where to step. In her clan, all kits obeyed the rules. One misstep here would mean death. She was just barely still a kit; she would be an apprentice soon. Running around the rooftops is a huge milestone, and if they got back, they would be apprenticed, and get her second feather. She only had one, which was a long and thin sparrow tail feather. Once a kit is old enough to see, they catch their first bird and take one of the feather's for their pelt. She had caught hers the same rainy day her sister had, out on one of the lower rooftops. She found a nest of swallows, and had killed one that was returning. The eggs hadn't even been laid yet. Depending on how they caught it, they would then be officially named. Kits weren't named until they could see. They weren't apprenticed until they returned from running the rooftops alone. If she didn't return though… she refused to think about it. She needed to focus.

The shingles were slanted, just enough so that any cat not used to the roofs would slip and fall to their deaths. All warriors were able to leap over the small alleyways. This gave them another advantage, so much that their clan hasn't been attacked in seasons. Not from other cats, at least. They still trained daily, but no amount of training could protect them against the twolegs. They lost many cats to their raids, and often the entire clan had to leave and move camp to a different place across the red tile city. Warriors and apprentices were given camp duty, which was when the pair would search for possible campsites in case the clan had to leave short-notice. It worked, at least so far.

Her black paws screeched to a halt at the edge of the roof. Her unusually long tail whipped forward over the thirty tail-length drop. That had been rather close. She needed to focus more.

Her eyes, dark in the dim morning light, scanned the small space, hoping for pelt wire. She looked down into the alley, but a dark shape caught her eye. It slinked around the edge of a waste bin, stepping carefully around the rain puddles. His red fur gleamed in the street lights. She sucked in a breath sharply. Bloodfang. Even amongst the Leaders of the clans, he was well-respected, almost feared. His ear turned slowly in her direction.

She froze, unable to think. He was rumored to have killed a kit before, but no one found any proof. Rooted to the spot, she stared as his yellow-orange eye slowly turned toward her.

"I can smell your pelt, young kit," his voice was soft and menacing. She stared, transfixed at the large rat claw mark over one eye. He was blinded as a young apprentice, and yet he rose to the most respected warrior. His tail swished from side to side slowly.

"I can see you, young kit," he stepped forward, inching to the fire escape. Her eyes widened and she tried to move. She couldn't, his eyes almost hypnotized her.

"I can kill you, young kit!" he yowled and darted swiftly up the stairs. His stranglehold on her thoughts broke, and she dashed across to the edge of the roof. She prayed that she would make it, she would rather fall to her doom than be chased, chased on her own territory, her own home! She glanced behind for a moment, and her heart almost stopped, he was already on the rooftop, and was dashing toward her!

She looked around desperately; she was almost on the edge of the roof. There was no other chance, she would have to jump. The width between the buildings was at least five tail-lengths, and there was no hope of running back around the edge. She only hoped he couldn't jump so far. The open air caught her mid-step, swallowing her. She fell, but a yowl wouldn't, couldn't, escape from her mouth. She was Rooftop Clan. She wasn't afraid of falling. Rooftop cats don't fall, they jump. Her claws, which had instinctively extended, suddenly tore with a horrible screech on a piece of two-leg pelt, hanging lazily off a pelt wire, had stopped her fall. The wire bounced with the weight of her small body. She scrambled across the pelts, and onto the other side. She leapt up to the roof, and stared across the alley. The warrior was gone, as if he had vanished. The alley was empty as well.

She sighed, relieved she had escaped, and then ran across the rest of the buildings. This area was more familiar, she could see it outside the rafters of the old and very large church her clan lived in, in the highest spire. The place smelled faintly of twolegs, but they never saw them. They lived in between the shingled roof and the ceiling of the attic. The space was open, airy, and higher than any other part of the city. It gave them the perfect view, and would warn them of any impending fire or storm.

She finally leapt down to a low building, and then onto the ground. This was the most treacherous part of her journey. Alleyclan considered most of the urban streets as part of their territory, especially at night. She bolted across, hoping her pale grey and reddish pelt wouldn't show so brightly in the night.

She darted easily up the oak tree next to a lower part of the church, and onto one of the only flat roofs in the city. The next part was easy, though it looked nearly impossible. The side of the largest tower of the church was rutted with many gutter pipes, ledges, gargoyles, and windows. It was simple to climb up, and it was second nature to a rooftop clan cat as well. Even if she needed to go inside the actually building, she would simply bolt up the steps and be mistaken for one of the stray kittypets that sometimes roamed the church, lost and forgotten. Their clan had accepted many of these loners, and most turned out to be exceptional warriors. Once they got used to the height, they could jump almost as well as true-born clan cats.

It took her a small amount of time to scale the wall, and soon she slinked into a crack in the building.

The camp was in the rafters of the attic, between the roof and the ceiling. The giant wooden beams criss-crossed the entire camp, and the clan used them to navigate. Around the edge of the room was a wide ledge, where they slept.

Warm scents flooded her nose, instantly the dim, gray, cold world was replaced with a dark, warm, and comforting one. She stretched, reveling in the feeling of her joints popping. She glanced around, all the warriors were awake (or, at least, they acted like it) as well as her mother and her littermates. They were gathered around the central supporting rafter, where Featherstar was sitting.

She held her chin with an air of confidence, proudly displaying her black feather, blue jay feather, hawk tail feather, and a downy pigeon feather. Her hawk-like yellow eyes stared down at her. The deputy, Windscar, sat next Featherstar. His blue-grey eyes were shut, and his tail twitched every couple seconds. Two of his feathers blended into his fur, the other bloodred one contrasted highly against the blackness. The other warriors sat five tail-lengths below, in a small crowd. Her mother and littermates sat on one of the many beams that extended away from the central column. To her dismay, she was the last to arrive. Both her littermates, Greykit and Rainkit, sat next to her mother, Ravenwing. Her mother's eyes snapped open and she called, "Sparrowkit!"

Her littermates suddenly woke up from their exhausted stupor, their eyes glittering with excitement. They bounded up to her along the rafter, rub their heads against her neck affectionately.

"We thought you wouldn't get back!" Rainkit exclaimed, her grey-blue eyes widening. Her small finch feather was tucked primly behind her ear. Greykit snorted, "Yeah, right, you were the one pacing around and threatening to climb back down and search for her!"

Rainkit scowled and cuffed him on the ear.

Featherstar cleared her throat loudly. They whipped around, but it took a while as all three tried not to fall of the beam. They stared up at her, silent.

Sparrowkit instantly felt smaller, all the warriors were staring at her. She was distinctly aware of the large tuft of fur that had been blown askew by the wind. Featherstar suddenly yowled, "All cats of Roofclan, join your comrades by the center column and witness the beginning of three new warriors!" The rest of the clan cats groggily stood and gathered. They all looked up, and realizing that they were about to witness new apprentices being made, stood rigid with attention.

"These three kits are now six moons old, and are deemed ready to start their training as warriors. Rainkit, from this day forward you will be known as Rainpaw," Rainpaw looked up, startled she was to be called first. Featherstar continued, "Will you accept your new name, and therefore accept your new status as an apprentice?" Rainpaw nodded nervously, "Y-yes!"

"Then Rainpaw, your new mentor shall be Stormwing." A grim dark grey warrior slinked from the shadows, his three feathers neatly embedded into his fur. Sparrowkit then noticed that there were two other sets of glowing eyes. Stormwing stepped toward Rainpaw, and touched noses with her. Rainpaw followed him back down another beam, and she sat next to him, silent.

"Greykit, from this day forward you will be known as Greypaw. Will you accept your new name, and therefore accept your new status as an apprentice?" Greypaw nodded firmly, "Yes, I do."

"Then Greypaw, your new mentor will be Silverheart," Featherstar said. A slim she-cat walked toward Greypaw, her long tail swishing back and forth. She touched noses with him and then led him to Stormwing and Rainpaw.

Sparrowkit's stomach did a somersault. Featherstar's yellow eyes turned to her, "Sparrowkit, from this day forward you will be known as Sparrowpaw. Will you accept your new name, and therefore accept your new status as an apprentice?"

"Yes."

Should I continue? BTW, sorry if the camp description was a little hard to follow. If it is, give me a suggestion on how to fix it and I will! :D