A Mend to a Broken Clan- Warriors by Erin Hunter
(This takes place back when Tigerclaw was still deputy, Bluestar yet the ThunderClan leader.)
Rainpelt let off a mournful cry. WillowClan had been lost. Her Clan-mates were sprawled out all around her, their pelts stained with battle and the bitter stench of death. She blinked the pain from her amber eyes as the breeze gently blew her silver pelt. It was almost as though it was pulling her away from the scene, but the she-cat would not leave her position. Her Clan had lost, and she was the only survivor.
Sure, she'd hidden in the branches of the Weeping Willow that was planted in the center of WillowClan camp, but how had the rogues that had attacked not found her? Morningstar had even been killed, all of his nine lives taken away. It was too late for her to find help…too late for her Clan.
Rainpelt stared down onto the leader's lifeless body and bent down to lick him between the ears. They'd had a special bond. That bond had been broken because of Krone: the reckless leader who had led the rogues to kill WillowClan. Rainpelt held back the tears as she gazed down at the medicine cat that she had one had a keen for. Now the old she-cat was lying there beside her herbs.
Rainpelt figured that Dewflower had been trying to treat the Clan's wounds. She bent down to look between the medicine cat's claws: the black fur of Krone. She lay down to share tongues with her friend for the very last time.
After a few moments of silence and the gentle licking of Rainpelt, she stood up and took one last look at the scene of the battle, then turned around, never to look back. She padded on, the moon rising behind her and casting unwelcome shadows amid her path. She sent a prayer to StarClan she would find shelter safely, and soon.
A scratching was heard within the ferns of her path. She crouched down in a hunting position, slowly making her way towards the source. The scent told her it was a mouse, and it did not detect her, for she scented no presence of fear. She leapt into blindness, only relying on her aiming of the scent to catch her dinner.
The mouse sprang away, but Rainpelt was too quick for it. She finished it off with a deathly bite. Carrying her fresh-kill to an old oak, she eyed the territory, a feeling of comfort washing over her thin body and making her fur prickle. She finished off her meal with a lick of her chops and burying the remains. The scents of strange cats filled the air around her. She took a step back and dashed into some bramble.
Rainpelt watched a patrol pass her by. The scents told her there were two toms. One was a large brown, the other a white. After the scent died away, she traveled on. She came to a hill and overlooked a camp. Her silhouette was placed right in the center of a half-moon. She knew on this night Dewflower would have traveled to Windrocks, where StarClan would speak with them. She heard meows of warning coming from the camp and adrenaline filled her veins. She turned around to run, but was caught by surprise.
"What are you doing in the ThunderClan camp?" The brown tom she'd seen earlier eyed her suspiciously. He was large, with unusually large claws as well. The white tom was at his side.
"I…uh…" She straitened her spine. "My name is Rainpelt, and I did not know this territory was occupied." She narrowed her eyes challengingly.
"Tigerclaw, perhaps we should bring her back to camp," Whitestorm meowed. Tigerclaw gave a nod and pushed Rainpelt forward. Whitestorm followed. None of the warriors dared break the silence that lingered until the reached camp. "I'll fetch Bluestar." The white tom disappeared beneath the Highrock, only to return seconds later with the ThunderClan leader.
Rainpelt bowed her head respectfully as Bluestar sniffed her pelt. The leader frowned and stood back, sitting down with her tail neatly wrapped around her paws. Rainpelt had drawn some attention and other Clan cats began to surround her in curiosity as to who she was. Some hisses escaped from the crowd, but she held her head high. Bluestar's tail twitched uncomfortably.
"Your scent does not breach any Clan we are familiar with. But yet, you have a Clan name. Is it perhaps you are a rogue that has been thrown of your Clan roots?" Bluestar watched her carefully as she opened her mouth to speak.
"My Clan was wiped out in battle. There is nothing left. I am the only one who still carries the blood of WillowClan," Rainpelt admitted sadly. "I come here with no harm. I am only traveling until I find a place to stay."
"I see. We will wait. If you can prove you are loyal in telling the truth, and you can prove you are fit to be in ThunderClan, you are welcome to join. Until then, I'm afraid you will stay as our prisoner…that is, if you wish to stay." The leader cocked her head slightly in question, and was satisfied at Rainpelt's nod. "Are you well enough to hunt?"
"I am. I will mourn for my Clan, but there comes a time when a warrior must be strong and handle what is in the present, and other than what happened in the past. There is a time for grieving, and there are also times where grieving should not take place."
"Wise words. Your den will be over there." Bluestar pointed with her nose to near the Great Sycamore. Rainpelt nodded and looked around at all of the eyes that stared at her with hostility. She knew it would take a while before this Clan could trust her. After all, she was a prisoner.
She took her place beneath the branches of her den as the cats began to clear. Her ears pricked forward as she strained to hear a conversation between a ginger and a solid gray tom. She could barely make out the words that they spoke.
"She looks almost identical to Spottedleaf," the ginger one said brightly, memories of the medicine cat flooding over him. 'Who's Spottedleaf?' Rainpelt questioned to herself, knowing she'd soon find out. The gray tom nodded.
"I never knew there were other Clans out there beside the four Clans of the forest. I knew there were other cats, but I didn't think they'd be connected to us and StarClan." Rainpelt's ears went flat. She realized that she wasn't confined the mossy bed, and decided to pad over to them.
"Well, good evening, my fellow warriors." She glanced from face-to-face, seeing the surprised expressions on them.
"Hello, Rainpelt," the ginger tom meowed. "I'm sorry to hear of your Clan."
"Well, all things happen for a reason." She shuffled her paws and decided to change the subject. "So what are your names?"
"I'm Graystripe, and this is Fireheart," Graystripe replied quickly. Rainpelt nodded.
"You are young warriors, as am I." She remembered her mentor in a flash. His scent filled her nostrils and she thought of the knowledge the great warrior had shared with her. "I hope that one day we will be great Clan-mates."