Darklas yawned, stretching out his legs before glancing hungrily over at his food bowl. His belly grumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten his dinner yet. The collar, night-black and skinny, wrapped around his neck. It pinched his fur and uncomfortably, and yet, he was glad it was there. He didn't know much of Countryfolk, but he did know that if he got lost, a Countryfolk could look at his collar and know where to return him to.
The thump, thump, thump of his Housefolk's pink feet came to Darklas's ears. He shook himself out, then came over eagerly to meet them. The young one, a little she-folk called Kennedy, sniffed as she rounded the corner. She reached down with one furless hand and rubbed Darklas on the back. He wound around her, purring in delight.
Kennedy coughed. Darklas frowned in concern. She had had that cough for a month, and it wasn't getting better. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse. She was up half the night every night, tossing and turning and coughing. Worry washed over him as he stared up at his Housefolk.
Was she dying?
The question struck him like a blow to the nose. Not wanting to think about that, he brushed it aside with some difficulty and pushing up against her.
The tom-folk's voice rang down the hall, and Kennedy tottered away, just as the older she-folk, Anawana, came into view. Darklas ran up to her, but she ignored him, staring after her daughter.
"Hey!" Darklas mewed. "I'm still here!"
Anawana didn't hear. The crow-colored tom butted her leg, purring. Distractedly, Anawana leaned down and scratched his neck fur.
There was a sudden retching sound. The she-folk ran off, Darklas hard at her heels. "Wait for me!" He called.
He rounded the corner to see the tom-folk, Douglas, bending over Kennedy anxiously. He prodded his daughter with one furless paw. A pool of vomit lay beside them.
Anawana screeched and flung herself down next to the younger she-folk. Darklas flattened his ears uneasily, fear pulsing through him. Anawana was now speaking urgently to the tom-folk. Douglas nodded, and he reached down and gently picked up Kennedy, carrying her out to their Monster.
Without a backwards glance, Anawana pulled herself into the Monster and Douglas and Kennedy entered as well. The Monster rumbled to life, than slowly began to roll away.
Darklas pounded after them. "Wait!" He called, the bell on his collar jingling. As much as he feared the Monster, he couldn't let them go off without them. The breeze ruffled his fur, almost knocking him off his paws.
But his Housefolk was carried away by the Monster, and his words were ripped away by the wind.
Hunger clutched him.
Two days had passed, and Darklas was starving. He had all the water he needed, but hunger had him in its grip. He staggered weakly to a small pool and lapped up the peaty water.
Finally, he had to face the truth. If he was to survive, he had to hunt warm, living animals. The thought made him shudder, but he had no choice.
His belly painfully empty, Darklas stumbled away, towards the forest that he had sometimes visited. He loved to sit at the edge and watched the forest life. Never before had he thought he would ever need to hunt there.
He detected the shuffling of some leaves and instantly pounced clumsily. The mouse shot away, hearing the jingling of his bell, but its heavy, swinging belly hampered it, and Darklas managed to catch its tail in his claws. He killed it.
He stared down in disgust at the mouse. If not for his raging hunger, he would've left it right there and ran away. He was almost tempted to do so, but in the end hunger beat disgust and he leaned down a took a bite.
The first piece slid down almost-whole; he was too weak to chew it well. He choked, then managed to get it down. He felt his stomach demanding more. Hesitantly, he took another bite, wrinkling his nose at the blood that seeped out.
Soon, he was gulping it down. Finally, he sat back, the worst of his hunger dulled. Twisting around to try to see his collar, he began scratching at it, feeling a sudden longing for it to be gone. He managed to tear it, and he tossed it onto the ground. He stared at it in shock.
He suddenly felt a strange longing for another mouse, and instinctively dropped into a crouch as he heard the squeaking of a mouse.
He drew himself forward, but one of his paws snapped a twig. The mouse darted off, and Darklas shot forward, his claws snapping down. All those months running as fast as I could have finally payed off, he thought dully.
The mouse caught, he downed it, then finally felt his belly full. He stared around him for the first time. He had gone in farther than he had intended to.
A screech split the air and Darklas spun around, his glossy black pelt fluffing up in terror. A light brown tabby hurled himself out of the undergrowth, his claws flashing. He smashed into the kittypet and they both rolled across he ground. Scared, he lashed out with one paw and felt his claws catch on flesh. The tabby yowled and clawed his legs.
Two more cats crashed out of the undergrowth: a sleek white she-cat and a dark ginger tom. Darklas screeched in fear when he saw them. They slammed into him, and the ginger tom pinned him down while the tabby leaned over him, snarling.
"What are you doing here, rogue?" The tabby sneered.
"Stealing our prey, that's what!" The ginger cat growled.
Darklas writhed. "I was starving!" He protested. "My Housefolk hadn't fed me for days!"
"Yeah, right, kittypet," the ginger cat hissed after a moment. He raised a paw threateningly. "Why don't I give you some scars so you know not to come here again, then we let you go running back to your Twolegs?"
Twolegs? Does he mean Housefolk?
"Rowanstorm," the white she-cat murmured. "Don't be too harsh. This is just a kittypet."
"You're too soft, Cloudface," the ginger cat, presumably Rowanstorm, snarled.
"No," the tabby mewed. "I agree with Cloudface. This is just a kittypet. Didn't you see that collar? We should let him go."
Rowanstorm hissed, but backed away. Cloudface rushed forward and leaned over him. The tabby circled him warningly, ready if he suddenly sprang to his paws and attacked. Darklas lay there trembling, his mouth open. Then he slowly rolled over and began padding away.
"And don't come back!" Rowanstorm yowled as he left the forest.
Darklas cautiously padded back into the forest.
A day had passed, and his Housefolk still had not returned. He had tried to get his food-box down, but to no success. So he was left with hunting.
Stopping in a bush, he crouched down, his ears flattened, his tail wrapped him his back, his paws close, his chin tucked down. How long he stayed like that, he didn't know, but his desperate need for food gave him patience as he waited for prey to come out.
Slowly, the prey did. And after a while, a squirrel came up and hopped right in front of his paws to pick up an acorn. One black paw flashed, and a moment later the squirrel was lying dead in front of him. Hungrily, he leaned over and ate.
This continued for another quarter month. Darklas had acquired a taste for the forest food, and was much better at hunting. Now he just would settle down and wait for prey to come to him. His patience had never been so useful. Since that first encounter, he had seen no wild cats, although he thought he smelled them.
Finally, on the tenth day, his luck ran out. He had just killed a vole, which was his favorite prey. Licking his lips, he leaned down to eat it when a voice growled out of the trees, "What do you think you're doing?"
A big gray tabby she-cat bounded out of the trees, followed by an older brown-spotted tom. Finally, the first tabby was at the rear.
Darklas jumped and spun around to face them. "Hunting," he replied nervously.
"On our territory!" Spat the she-cat, fur bristling.
"This is the forest," he answered. "It's neutral ground."
"We need that prey for us!" The spotted cat snarled.
"You know, there are more important cats than yourself!" Darklas snapped. He really hated this arrogant dog-heads.
For a moment, the wild cats were silenced. "Just get off our territory," the she-cat finally muttered.
"Wait," the tabby mewed. "We've been catching his scents on our territory every day. Why don't we just invite him into our clan?"
Join your clan? Darklas's fur fluffed out. "He's a kittypet!" The spotted cat hissed.
"He doesn't look like one," the tabby pointed out. "What do you think, Stormpool?"
"I suppose we should ask," the she-cat growled.
"Well, do you want to—"
"Thrushkit!" Darklas suddenly interrupted, his instinct telling him that the name matched this strong young tom. He gazed at them. "Mudpaw!"
Silence. "How do you know their former names?" Stormpool asked, her words hollow with shock.
"I-i just know them," the black tom stuttered.
The tabby, Thrushkit, looked lost in thought, a flicker of grief in his eyes. "That was my name when Crowkit disappeared," he murmured.
"If you're saying that this is Crowkit, Thrushtail, then you've got bees in your brain," Mudpaw snapped.
Thrushtail shook his head. "Of course not, Mudspots."
"We need to take him back to camp," Stormpool mewed. She flicked her tail at Darklas. "Come on."
Thrushtail and Mudspots circled around him, and Darklas had no choice but to follow.
"Mudspots, who is this?" A massive, silver tabby tom with dark brown paws emerged from a den.
"A rogue, Smallstar," the spotted tom answered. "He knew me as Mudpaw and Thrushtail as Thrushkit. We thought we should bring him back to camp. He wouldn't tell us his name," he added.
Smallstar? Darklas stayed in disbelief at the giant tabby. That cat is nowhere near small.
"Well, rogue, what's your name?" Smallstar swung his head to stare at him. His piercing gaze compelled him to tell the truth.
"W-well, my Housefolk c-called me Darklas," he muttered.
"Kittypet," a cat from the crowd yowled.
"How do you know them?" Smallstar asked.
Darklas shrugged. "Lier!" Screeched another.
"Thrushtail, Mudspots, have either of you met this cat before?"
"No." Mudspots glared at Darklas.
"Well, I was on the patrol a quarter-moon ago that first saw him," Thrushtail meowed. "But he didn't know my name then."
"Hmmm." Smallstar's eyes narrowed. "Put him in the nursery. It's empty, so he can stay there for now."
Yowls of protest broke out. "I am leader of this clan!" Smallstar thundered.
The cats fell silent, and Darklas was herded toward a bramble-covered cave.
"My name is Nightberry," the black cat meowed. "I'm Thrushtail's father."
Darklas grunted, and curled up tighter. Nightberry snorted, then growled, "I'm giving up. Nothing I say perks your interest."
He left, and Darklas was left in darkness once more.
A faint, short memory surfaced.
He was in a box-trap. The Monster opened its mouth and swallowed him whole. He was left in darkness.
"I name you Crowpaw. Your mentor will be Stormpool."
Crowpaw reluctantly rose to his paws and touched noses. Why did I even accept this? He wondered. I liked it more when I was Darklas.
"Crowpaw!"
The clan, cheering his new name, lacked enthusiasm. Crowpaw glanced up at Stormpool. Her eyes were shining.
He stared at her, mesmerized for a moment. "Congratulations, Crowpaw," she whispered.
Crowpaw pounced on the mouse. After six months of living with ShadeClan, he had to admit that he was liking the life. Stormpool was a good mentor, and he had a talent for fighting that only Thrushtail shared. A few times, cats commented on how much he looked like the lost kit, Crowkit. Crowpaw wondered why Smallstar had named him Crowpaw.
Satisfied, he picked up his mouse and collected the rest of his prey, a squirrel and two water voles. Stormpool emerged and carried his squirrel, while he carried his mouse and voles by the tails.
His method of just crouching there, waiting, had been picked up by some cats of ShadeClan to use during wint—no, leaf-bare, he corrected himself. He was proud of himself.
"Nice job," Stormpool muttered through a mouthful of fur.
He glanced at her, and a warm feeling filled him. Her praise always meant more to him than any others, even the tough Thunderclaw's.
They bounded back to camp, and Stormpool entered Smallstar's den to arrange his warrior ceremony. His paws pricked with excitement.
"Nice job, Crowpaw!" Rattlepaw purred.
"Yeah, nice job," Brookpaw, Sheerpaw, and Owlpaw echoed.
"Thanks," he muttered. Nervousness pricked him. What if ShadeClan didn't accept him? Then what?
"Let all cats gather beneath Clawstone for a clan meeting!"
The massive silver figure of Smallstar sat on the top of the huge rock that jutted out of the ground. It curved like a claw, so they called it Clawstone.
"I, Smallstar, leader of ShadeClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior. Crowpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this clan, even at the cost of your life?"
Crowpaw gulped. Can I promise that? He searched himself for the answer. The clan waited eagerly, then started to shift uneasily when he didn't reply.
"Cr—"
"I do!" Did I make the right choice?
Smallstar stared at him, then continued. "Then by the power of the stars, I give you your warrior name. Crowpaw, from this moment you will be known as Crowpelt. The stars honor your pride and courage, and we welcome you as full warrior of ShadeClan."
"Crowpelt! Crowpelt!"
"I'm Brownsnow. I'm the father of Smallstar."
Crowpelt stared at the brown-and-white tom, who was glittering with stars. "I'm a warrior of StarClan," Brownsnow continued. "And I think it is time for you to know the truth. Crowpelt, this is your father."
He rolled a red berry towards him. Crowpelt stiffened as he recognized the night-berry. He narrowed his eyes. A berry was his father. Then the realization hit him. He knew who his father was.
He was Crowkit. The lost kit of ShadeClan.
The memory came flooding back.
He crept forward through the undergrowth, his pelt hidden by large, green leaves, his ears flattened. The rumbling of the Twoleg Monsters echoed in his ears. He gaped in shock at the sight of the trees trunks in the barren land before him, the stumps of them looming.
"Great StarClan!" He whispered. "What are they doing?"
He spotted a Twoleg at the edge of the site, and unsheathed his claws, digging them into the ground. You're going to pay for this! He thought viciously. Leaping forward, he clawed at the Twoleg's bare skin, exhilaration rushing through him.
Then it was gone when the Twoleg snatched him up, yowling loudly. He writhed in its grasp, hissing and spitting loudly, but it stomped over to a Monster. Terror flooded him. Was the Twoleg about to feed him to the Monster? Desperately squirming, he tried to break free, but the Twoleg's grip was firm.
The Twoleg called something, and a moment later another of its kind appeared, holding a rectangular box. A shiny web stretched over one side. They opened the web, then shoved him inside. Before he could do anything, the web slammed into place, firm and unyielding. He scrabbled at it, but his claws slid off.
The box-trap suddenly swung violently, and he screeched as he tilted to one side, his paws slipping on the dull cream-colored ground beneath him. Shoving his face up against the web, he saw a Monster coming closer. The Monster opened its mouth, and swallowed the box-trap whole.
He was left in darkness.
"Too bad your blood doesn't run through the clan," Thrushtail commented as Crowpelt dropped his load of prey on the pile.
It is time, a voice murmured on his ear.
Two moons had passed since he had learned that he was Crowkit. To his delight, Stormpool had moved to the nursery, expecting his kits. I'm the luckiest tom in the world.
But the truth about him still went unknown. He stared at his brother. "Thrushtail, I need to talk to you privately," he mewed quietly. "Can you meet me at the border where you first met me with Nightberry?"
Thrushtail blinked at him. "Why?"
"I'll explain when we get there."
"Alright, I guess," he meowed, then entered the elders' den.
Crowpelt padded out of the camp and towards the border. As he sat down, he stared out of the forest and at the home in the distance. My former Housefolk live there.
More memories came.
He was churning his mother's belly with his legs, drinking milk. Thrushkit was beside him, equally hungry.
He was batting a ball of moss to his brother.
Nightberry nuzzling him.
Sneaking out of camp.
Tussling with Thrushkit.
"Crowpelt?" Nightberry's croak brought him out of his memories. "What did you want?"
Crowpelt didn't reply, staring at them. Finally, Thrushtail broke the silence. "You know, you look so much like Nightberry, any cat would think that you're kin."
"We are," he mewed quietly.
"What?" Thrushtail asked. His brother began washing his face.
Crowpelt tucked his tail in tighter around his paws. "We're kin," he softly repeated. "I'm Crowkit, the lost kit of ShadeClan."
Nightberry stared at him. "You can't be. Crowkit is dead."
"I'm alive, aren't I?" Crowpelt snapped. "Twolegs took me and made me a kittypet."
"Are you sure?" Thrushtail asked faintly.
"The stars themselves said so." Well, they didn't, but... "We are kin."
His brother's eyes misted. "That's why you knew me as Thrushkit and Mudspots as Mudpaw," he murmured.
Crowpelt nodded.
"We have to tell the clan!" Gasped Nightberry. Crowpelt blinked. He didn't expect them to believe him so easily.
Thrushtail shot off. Crowpelt wanted to call him back, but it wasn't right to keep secrets from his clan. They had to know.
Ravenkit blinked up innocently at his father before pouncing on his tail. Crowpelt purred, and waved his tail around. Graykit and Darkkit tumbled around the clearing, play-fighting. Windkit was crouching by his father, Owltuft, as he tried to copy the hunter's crouch.
Much as he liked living in the wild, he missed being a kittypet, with more than enough food, a soft, warm nest to curl up in, a nice bowl of milk.
"Let all cats gather beneath Clawstone for a clan meeting!"
Sitting up, Crowpelt gazed at the massive figure of Smallstar. The tabby's broad shoulders were hunched, and his silver muzzle was graying. He was getting older.
"ShadeClan, we have three new apprentices among us today."
Crowpelt blinked. Who?
"Ravenkit, Graykit, and Darkkit, come here please." Smallstar paused and squinted down. Crowpelt's eyes widened. But they're only five-and-a-half moons old! "These kits are long overdue for becoming apprentices. "Brookfire, you have proven yourself many times over and you are ready for your first apprentice. You shall mentor Ravenpaw. Sheertail, your courage and loyalty has served you well in the past and I hope Graypaw learns how to be like you. Rattlewing, your determination and energy has served your clan well in the past. Let Darkpaw learn from you, and make him into a strong warrior."
"Ravenpaw! Graypaw! Darkpaw!"
Their voices rang out strongly. "I do."
"Then by the powers of the stars, I give them their warrior names. From this moment on, they shall be known as Ravenheart, Graydapple, and Darkshine. The stars honor you."
"Ravenheart! Graydapple! Darkshine!"
Crowpelt felt a surge of pride, but also regret and sadness. He had decided to wait until his kits were made warriors. He wanted to see their ceremony. But now it was time to leave. He finally figured out that he didn't belong in the clans, not when so much of his early life had been as a kittypet. He would miss ShadeClan, but he knew he was making the right choice.
"Tonight, these three warriors will hold a silent vigil throughout the night and keep the rest of us safe. Dismi—"
"Wait!"
The clan turned to stare curiously at the large, well-muscled warrior. Crowpelt took a deep breath.
"I have an announcement to make. I have enjoyed living with ShadeClan, and in the wild. I will never forgot it, nor my mate or kits." He glanced at Stormpool, standing silently by the quiet, but curious Ravenheart, the fierce and loyal Graydapple, and the small, but strong Darkshine. Her eyes were widening with horror as she realized what was happening. "Forever I will remember Thrushtail, Nightberry, and Foxfoot. But the life of a warrior is not for me."
Gasps rang out as he went on. Most cats were silent with shock. It hurt him to see the pain in his mate and kits' eyes, and he turned his head away. "From the moment I was born, I was destined to be a kittypet. My heart does not lie in here, in the forest. It is with Twolegs. That is where I belong. With Twolegs. As a kittypet."
Stonestar, the new leader of ShadeClan, stared down at him. Finally, he mewed, "Very well. ShadeClan will honor you as a fallen warrior. I accept your decision, Crowpelt. May you never regret your choice."
His heart cracking, he looked up into the gray tom's eyes. "My name is Darklas."
Staring into Stormpool's eyes, he turned to each of his kits and touched noses with them. Then Darklas turned and padded silently out of camp.