Hello, everyone! I am a new member to FanFiction, but I adore writing. Now, just a note: If you don't like what I've written, then don't read it. Only pathetic little kids would whine about my work. It's something I'm proud of and I enjoy doing. Don't like it, suck it up.
To those of you who do like it, though: Thanks for reading (I hope) and reviews are appreciated! I like constructive criticism, but flaming will be removed and ignored. Thank you.
Disclaimer: Warriors does not belong to me, only characters and other aspects of the story.
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It was a fine day in the midst of Leaf-Fall. Leaves of golden, brown, and red mingled in the air, dancing along on the chill autumnal winds. On the rippling surface of the lake, a lone Canadian goose spread her wings and let loose a loud, ringing honk into the air, fluttering wildly upwards, the water flung into a brief frenzy.
Standing on the bank, paws feeling the grooves of the smooth, eroded pebbles, Otterpaw drew in her breath and smiled softly. She was a fine cat, with a sleek black body, a splatter of chocolate brown across her muzzle and left forepaw. Her eyes were a gleaming amber-green, and her fur was thick, with a long-furred tail.
Her tongue swept around her muzzle before the older apprentice turned around, grinning crookedly at her father. Spiderleg, quivering slightly from his old age, crept down the bank to join his youngest daughter. He breathed out, breath pluming in frosty clouds in front of his graying muzzle.
"It is a mighty fine day, Otterpaw," the old warrior declared, blinking his eyes. The right eye had become clouded and hazy, his vision failing him. But Otterpaw loved him to the most brittle bone in his body. She put her shoulder to his, letting the slightly hunched male lean on her.
"That it is, Father," she agreed in her normal murmur, the wind rustling the bare tree branches above and behind them, sending pebbles rolling down the gently sloping bank. Otterpaw closed her eyes and turned her face into the wind, enjoying the feel of it.
It was too bad Thunderclan and Windclan were under such great threat right now from the rogue pack, Deceitful. It was rare to snatch such a calm, serene moment, especially when she shared it with her father. She feared he would not live to see the end of the battles, and his stubborn nature made him refuse to step back and join the ranks of the elders.
"Otterpaw…" Spiderleg's brow furrowed, gaze moving to his daughter as the lake water rushed silently up around their paws and drew back again, leaving glassy drops clinging to their dark fur. "What is your view on this war?"
Her head tilted in sheer surprise. Father had never requested such a… such a powerful opinion from her. He cared deeply for her, she knew that, but she believed her had an awkward time serving as a fatherly figure. Her claws flexed, shifting uncertainly on her paws.
She did hate the Deceitful. They were thieving assassins, killing under the cover of darkness, leaving hardly a trace behind. They had already claimed a life from Bramblestar, and had slaughtered poor Toadstep, one of their best warriors. Windclan was taking the bulk of the attack, being exposed in open ground. But their pride refused to let them retreat to Thunderclan grounds, where they had been offered refuge.
Otterpaw sighed and shook her head. "I don't know. That's a hard thing to answer," she commented, sitting down and wrapping her tail around her paws. "The warriors… The warriors are doing all they can, but it might not be enough."
"You should be with us. The warriors," Spiderleg remarked suddenly, glancing sideways at her. "Bramblestar is a fool not to-"
"Bramblestar is no fool!" Otterpaw cried, breaking him off and flattening her ears. "He is a strong cat who has been put into a place of great pressure. His decisions, if made wrongly, could cause the downfall of the four clans!"
"Do not interrupt me," Spiderleg revoked her swiftly, pointing a chipped gray claw at her and shaking his head. "Now, if that cat had any of a brain in his head, he'd make you and your siblings warriors this very day! No, he should have done it moons ago!" He cried, trembling angrily.
"Father, I understand your anger, but do not feel this way. I don't mind staying an apprentice a bit longer if it helps the clan, nor does Coyotepaw or Stonepaw!" She shook her head in protest. "We want to do all we can. The clan needs us. Mother understands!"
Spiderleg bristled slightly, then sighed, fur lying flat. "Cinderheart sees it the same way as you do, Sweetheart," he murmured quietly, curling his tail around her and touching his nose gently to her ear. "But I don't see it that way. I see it as Bramblestar putting off your ceremony because he sees it as less important than anything else."
True, Bramblestar had put off their ceremony for almost two moons now. But he insisted it was because he didn't want the Deceitful to attack on a raid, like Windclan had suffered from. They wiped out most of the clan. More warriors would be a larger threat, and therefore, he put aside the apprentices. Otterpaw was unhappy, truthfully, but she didn't complain.
"I suppose, Father. But he's doing his best, please," she murmured. Spiderleg sniffed, ears twitching. He spread his jaws to reply, but before he could, there was a scream not far in the woodland.
Otterpaw lurched to her paws. "Come with me, Father! You can't stay alone," she said, taking off in a bound. In a few steps, though, she realized he wasn't following. She turned around to stare at him, mewing urgently at him. "Please, hurry! They must be attacking someone!"
Spiderleg was frozen in place, though, staring at something over her shoulder. His jaws gaped in a silent screech of horror before he stumbled back, jarring against a rock and sinking low, eyes wide.
Otterpaw spun around, coming face to face with a huge beast. It was like the dogs on the farm, but different. It had straight, pointy ears, with huge, gaping, slavering jaws and a narrow body. Its fur was thick and gray-black, with a scar lacerating down his front leg. And yet, perched calmly on its back sat a lean ginger tabby, his fur smoothed down calmly, a charming grin dancing across his muzzle.
Swinging from the wolf, he landed on the ground and straightened up. "Hello there, sweetness," he crooned, his voice a cold growl. He smirked and crept towards her, and she instantly recognized the emblem of the Deceitful on his shoulder; printed in bright blue ink was the shape like the crescent moon, curved like a backwards 'C' and sliced vertically down the center with black ink which swirled at the end.
The wolf snarled and mimicked his cat owner's steps as the tom grew close. He circled Otterpaw, looking her over, a sly grin laced across his ugly, twisted maw. Then he looked back to his wolf.
"Winter- Come!" He snapped. The wolf lunged and seized Otterpaw, swinging her onto his back. Otterpaw shrieked in alarm and swiped her claws over his muzzle, but the tom just lunged up and head-butted her into place. Then he slid upwards to perch over her, keeping her pinned.
"Good day, sir. Say hello to your pretty little leader for me, hmm?" The tom grinned at the wide-eyed Spiderleg, turning his wolf away and beginning away at a trot. Snapping from his fear, Spiderleg bared his teeth and lunged forwards, long legs pumping. He launched himself upwards, wrapping his jaws around the tom's hind leg and jerking him over.
Otterpaw screamed, lunging upright with a grimace. But the tom didn't kill her father. With a scowl, he only jerked his muzzle towards Spiderleg, and the wolf snatched him up, the tom dangling silently from his jaws, trembling nervously.
Everything was happening so fast. Otterpaw twisted dizzily, baring her teeth at the tom. But the Deceitful were greatly advanced; they even rode wolves! This tom pushed a paw firmly to her shoulder to pin her, and she felt something drive into her skin. She twitched, jaws spreading to speak. And then she was out cold.
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Coyotepaw sat up slowly, looking around with dazed eyes. Where was she? What was this place? What was she in?
Rusty metal bars curved out of the ground around her and upwards to meet a flat plate of steel. There was earth underfoot, yes, but this strange metal carried a sickening, gut-wrenching scent. Worse yet, the scent of the Deceitful clung to the air, their rank scent making her choke.
"Ah, looks like my little fawn is up!" An ecstatic voice cried. A tall tom cat, his fur a slate gray with a black chest and throat, emerged from the shadows of clustered hickory trees, a grin spread across his muzzle. A white fleck spotted the place between a pair of round blue eyes, and his nicked ears flicked, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Hello, little fawn, my name is Silver Sin. You can call me Silv, though," he smiled.
Coyotepaw sat up slowly, saying nothing as he gaze strayed above. Silv approached her cage and nosed the rattling door of it gently, speaking in a soothing tone, as if coaxing her.
"Oh, come now, you can speak to me. I won't bite. Yet," he smiled again, revealing white teeth. It was now that she also noticed the scar on his shoulder, disrupting the normal Mark of Deceit that resided there. She flexed her claws, then let loose a snarl and lunged at him, claws lashing.
"Disgusting ogre! Get away from me!" She spat at him, claws slicing through nothing but cold air. Silv had stepped back. Now, his blue eyes grew dark, a growl rumbling in his throat.
"Don't you dare try me, little fawn! Now, tell me your name, or I'll make you one up. And I assure you, it won't be a pretty name," he snarled. She bristled and stepped back as the tall tom loomed beside the cage again.
"C-Coyotepaw…" She managed, glaring with all the defiance she could muster at him. But when a lanky brown wolf loped by and halted beside the cage, she shrieked in alarm again.
Silv chuckled, bemused. "Well now, Coyote. No need to be afraid. This here is Dusted, and as long as you do as you're told, you two'll get along mighty fine."
Coyotepaw eyed him warily, amber gaze burning into him for a long moment before she spoke. "… Where am I? This can't be your camp, can it? I don't see anything else."
Silv once again chuckled. "No, no, the camp is nearby, though. This is merely your current containment unit while my lesser companions erect some in the dens at camp. It'll be much comfier there. But for now, I'm bringing you to camp with me. Your's should be done by now."
So saying, he turned to his wolf and leaned up, teasing something away from her neck; an iron key that hung on a cord. Dusted curled her lips to reveal deadly teeth, growling at Coyotepaw to give her the simple message: Touch my key and you die.
Silv tugged the cage door open, scowling when it squealed in protest on its rusty hinges. "Danged door," he muttered to himself. Dusted crouched low as Silv ushered Coyotepaw out, shoving her up onto the wolf's back before lunging up himself. "Adda girl, Dusty! To camp," he ordered simply, keeping his paws on Coyotepaw's back to pin her.
At his words, the faithful wolf turned on her heels and took off at a jostling bound towards the Deceitful Camp.
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Stonepaw stood and stared in silence at the camp before her. It was a dismal, yet surprisingly advanced place.
Surrounding the whole diameter of wide riverbank where the Deceitful had made their fort was a eight foot tall wall of mud. It was higher on the side closer to the water, likely to prevent flooding should it happen, though there were tunnels that led through the very thick wall. On the other sides where the wall was still under construction, cats carried mud up from downriver, dripping with water and soaked to the bone, while others tossed the mud onto the wall. Then others still drove stones and rocks into the mud from the growing pile near them, reinforcing the walls while other cats patted the mud firmly into place.
A tall den made of twined thistle and several boulders sat at the far end of the camp, backed up against the river wall. That was the leader, the Pharaoh's, den. Flanking it on either side sat a pair of identical dens, both crafted out of branches like a hut with mud packed in between. Aside from those, a wide, hollow log had been dragged into the camp and served as the mother's den. It had been packed with mud to fortify it and hold it in place, as well as keep out the cold. The inside was packed with soft lichen.
The majority of the dens, though, were dug into the ground. They curved down in dark tunnels out of sight, though Stonepaw knew that they opened up into wide, spacious, luxurious chambers for the Deceitful members, called gladiators.
She stood on the grassy ridge that overlooked the riverbank, peering silently down. Beside her sat a tall, burly brown tom, the mark of Deceit half covered by his long pelt. A jagged scar cut down one flank, and there was a single white stripe near the end of his tail. He frightened her.
"Now, Stone. Let us go join your nearest camp member. You still need to be branded," his gold eyes narrowed as he straightened up, much larger than the small she-cat.
Stonepaw glanced up at him. She had wide blue eyes with smooth, feathery gray fur. Faint, pale tabby stripes marked up her body, though she had several black blotches on her flanks and shoulders. She looked much to soft compared to this tom.
"Yes, sir," she mewed quickly, slinking after him. He had no wolf, though he wore a strange leather belt around his torso, the long hilt of a smelly blade sticking out of a sheath that hung there.
"This'll be your new quarters," he grunted, leading her up to a den that fell away into the earth. The dirt around the entrance was thoroughly laced and embedded with sharp, brittle briars and thorns. More reeking bars protruded form the roof of the entrance and met the earth again, forming a barrier, though there was a loose door. The tom leaned forwards and slid a key from around his neck to unlock it. Then he shoved her swiftly in, eyes narrowed. "And, remember, you're mine, got it? No other gladiators lay a paw on ye!" He snarled. Stonepaw nodded, paws stinging from stepping through the thorns.
"Yes, Bron, sir," she mewed meekly. Snorting and shaking his head, Bron kicked the door shut and it latched into place with a brief squeal of rust. With that, he went marching away.
She hovered near the entrance for a moment, breathing in the cool air desperately. Then, moments later, a large wolf loomed before the den, swinging his muzzle low and snarling. He was a big white beast, a thick chain wrapped around his neck and embedded in the ground nearby. A prison guard, quite likely.
With a nervous whimper, she stepped back swiftly before turning tail and hurrying away. The tunnel sloped steeply and she slipped, landing on her chest painfully. It took two curves and then she emerged into a wide chamber, dimly lit by a pair of burning torches on either side of the earthen den. What technologies these cats had!
She flattened her ears, glancing about. Several other corridors led away from this one, and from the way it was so cold and wet, she guessed they were under the river. Turning, she chose the chamber furthest from the river and trotted into it, stepping into another den.
There were several cats here. They carried scents from all the clans, and there were many rogue scents. They had divided themselves up accordingly, glaring at one another, huddling together for warmth.
She recognized Breezepelt immediately. The black tom's eyes were dull and exhausted, though he bared his teeth at the nearby Riverclan cats, curled up beside an older black she-cat. Nightwing shot a fierce look about her, coughed once, and rested her head on her paws.
Her eyes slid about the area. She recognized the Thunderclan cats Foxleap and Jayfeather, along with Ivypool. Sniffing, Stonepaw trotted towards them, sighing and flattening her ears.
"Oh no, not another," Foxleap glanced at Stonepaw, sighing. The fiery red tom shook his head and extended his paw out to her, offering a smile to his niece and curled his tail around her when she drew close. "I'm sorry you're here."
"I'm sorry I'm here, too," she sighed, huddling beside him. Nearby, the son of Foxleap and Dovewing gave a snort, rolling over. Waspwing growled lowly, raking his claws through the air.
"Stupid Deceitful. I'll murder every last one of them," he declared coldly. He was a bright, sandy colored tom with narrow black stripes, earning him his name.
"Huh! And hedgehogs will fly," retorted a Riverclan she-cat, sitting up and glaring darkly at the Thunderclan cats. It was Waterfang, the rude gray-blue tabby.
"You would have said the same thing if I had told you this group called the Deceitful would come riding in on wolves and slaughter us and put us behind metal bars!" He snarled. This shut her up, and Waterfang fell silent, glaring at her paws. Looking satisfied, Waspwing smirked, tail flicking.
Foxleap narrowed his eyes. "Silence, Waspwing," he said simply. "You mustn't waste your breath on petty arguments." Waspwing stared at his father, then mumbled and turned away. Foxleap sighed, nudging Stonepaw. "Come now, you ought to rest. From what I hear, our slave training begins tomorrow." His voice was grave, face grim.
Stonepaw nodded quietly and lowered her head, closing her eyes. Within moments she was asleep.
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And that's it for this chapter! I hope you liked it! Please review! ^^