This is my first Warriors story! It takes place 1,000 years into the future (AU world). The cats seen here are not cats from the series, but it is a good OC/AU story if you're looking for one.
A wearied sun slipped beneath a rosy pink horizon dotted with fluffy white clouds and framed by mountain peaks. Late birdcalls drifted past shuttered windows, closed doors, and sealed shops as their songwriters fluttered past all of these resting homes. Province: Truth was closing for the night.
Only two small, lean shapes loitered on the stone paths as they made their slow way home, one small and tabby-striped, the other hunched and brown.
"Dad, when we get home, where did you want me to put those scrolls?" the tabby feline asked, turning her warm amber eyes on her companion.
The Scrollkeeper looked at her thoughtfully before he shook his head, his yellow eyes tired.
"Don't worry about them, Mainstream. We can deal with it tomorrow." he sighed, his voice wheezy and grating against his throat.
Mainstream nodded and rubbed her head along the Scrollkeeper's shoulder, smiling in an understanding way.
"Alright, if you're sure." she said. Then she turned her gaze skywards and they both fell silent.
In a few minutes they reached the opening to their home, a small, partially-obscured hole covered by an old door. A sign above the door read: "Martin's Books." The two cats squeezed through the hole and entered into the room beyond.
One's first impression would be that the deserted store was dusty. The second: cluttered. The third: very, very, very cluttered. The old shelves were piled high with leatherbound and paperback books, along with hardbacks, pocket books, journals, and just a lot of books in general. The entire place was coated in a dusty brown, which partially aided to the Scrollkeeper's actual name, Dustypelt.
The two cats skirted the decrepit wooden counter and headed towards the back wall, every bit as ancient as the rest of the store. There was another hole in the wall, but it was smaller than the entrance, and the path to and from it was clean and free of dust, as if used often. When Mainstream and Dustypelt had gone through, they were in acomparatively smaller, neater room. Short, squat shelves and wide-stepped stools stood here and there, and there was a refreshing lack of dust here. One of the most interesting things in here, though, were the rolls of parchment scattered at random. They were all very small, perfectly suited for cats.
Immediately, Dustypelt leaped onto a small, flat table and busied himself with a scroll that lay open on the surface. Mainstream dawdled around the shelves, nosing through scrolls marked with dates, signatures, and names with interest.
She pulled one out, and the title read "The Warrior Code." Of course, the letterings were in feline written language, pawform. She carried the small scroll to another table and opened it, nudging paperweights made of rock onto the corners to hold it closed. She sat down on the table and started to read.
The Code of the Clans
I. 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 them in battle.
II. Do not hunt or trespass on another Clan's territory.
III. Elders, queens, and kits must be fed before apprentices and warriors. Unless they have permission, apprentices may not eat until they have hunted to feed the elders. If any warrior or apprentice is sick or injured, they may eat while the elders, queens, and kits are eating.
IV. Prey is killed only to be eaten. Give thanks to StarClan for its life.
V. A kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice.
VI. Newly appointed warriors will keep a silent vigil for one night after receiving their warrior name.
VII. A cat cannot be made deputy without having mentored at least one apprentice.
VIII. The deputy will become Clan leader when the leader dies or retires.
IX. After the death or retirement of the deputy, the new deputy must be chosen before moonhigh.
X. A Gathering of all four eight Clans is held at the full moon during a truce that lasts for the night. There shall be no fighting among Clans at this time.
XI. Boundaries must be checked and marked daily. Challenge all trespassing cats.
XII. No warrior can neglect a kit in pain or danger, even if the kit is from a different Clan.
XIII. The word of the Clan leader is the warrior code.
XIV. An honorable warrior does not need to kill other cats to win his/her battles, unless they are outside the warrior code or if it is necessary for self-defense.
XV. A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet.
Mainstream had read all of this many times before, but there was just a strange chill that went up her spine as she read each rule, each law over. The warriors, the cat-heroes of the past, the very embodiments of freedom had lived by this Code.
But that was a long, long time ago. Over a thousand years had passed since the warriors had walked the world.
Now that world they left behind, which should have been a paradise of freedom and justice, was war-torn, blood-stained, and empty of hope. The warrior way of life was now a fading fairy tale in the eyes of the kits, a broken echo in the ears of the elders, a wearied dream in the mind of Mainstream and Dustypelt. "Dad...why aren't there any warriors anymore?" Mainstream asked sadly as she rolled up the parchment.
Dustypelt looked up at her thoughtfully, before his own eyes were veiled in sadness and he sighed.
"Because, Mainstream, the world is a cruel place. There is no honor, no chivalry...all pride has been diminished. We cats fight other cats not for prey or territory anymore...we fight because it's the only way to keep some sort of hope alive. Maybe, if we fight hard enough, and shed enough blood, the world is going to change for the better." he said. His last sentence was layered with cynical sarcasm; he knew that was no way to achieve peace.
"Even this city, Province: Truth, is a lie. There is no truth here. A soldier in the War is the same as an impoverished cat on the street. The Province is the perfect embodiment of irony." he went on, "I wish the world of the warrior had never faded too, Mainstream. But we should glean some comfort from the fact that we are the only ones who know of it, who understand it. You, me, and all of your friends."
At the mention of her friends Mainstream looked up.
"Oh right...I forgot we had shown them the Old Records." she said, "Rushgale, Cloudstorm, and Fallshade...they all know too."
Her amber eyes reflecting the light of the candles gave a strange light to her eyes as she looked at her father and asked, "Dad...if there was a way...some way we could make the rest of the world see that the warrior's way of life is the right way of life...could we change it?"
Dustypelt looked at his child with sadness and shook his head.
"It is good to dream," he said, "but I fear the world is too wrapped up in its problems and falsehoods to pay attention and learn."
He looked out the one window in the room and sighed, "It is late. I am going to sleep. Good night, Mainstream."
Mainstream watched her father douse his candle and leave through another hole to his chambers, and Mainstream was left staring at the roll of parchment, sitting so forlornly in a patch of silver moonshine.
"Warriors," she whispered hollowly, dispirited by her father's despair, "...you left too soon."
Then she too, doused her candle flame, put away the Code, and squeezed through the hole after her father. He was already sleeping peacefully on an old feather pillow but Mainstream still stayed awake. Her bed was located on the windowsill, staring out at the night skies, and she took a seat there to watch the night.
She stayed like that for a long time, her mind spinning with thoughts, before she saw the moon inching towards the horizon. At that, she lay down on her own pillow and was soon embraced by sleep.