This is a Whiteclaw oneshot. Enjoy.

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Graypool was very proud of her first litter of kits. They were Crookedjaw's kits, the strong RiverClan deputy, and she was sure that they would grow up to be fine, tough warriors, like their father.

There were three – two she-kits and a tom. The first she-kit was silver, and the other was a pretty tortoiseshell. But the tom, he was very handsome. He was pure, snowy white, with black spots on his back and legs. He was larger than the she-kits too, with wide, brown eyes and a long tail.

She named them Whitekit, Silverkit, and Mosskit, knowing that the names would be good warrior names for when they grew older, and grow older they did – quickly.

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"Whitepaw? Whitepaw! Whitepaw!" screeched Whitepaw's mentor, Leopardfur, standing rigidly at the entrance to the RiverClan camp. Whitepaw started and looked around, blinking sleep from his eyes. He was curled in the apprentice's den, nestled between his sisters, Mosspaw and Silverpaw. He jumped to his feet, hurriedly giving himself a bath, and then sprinted out of the den, dreading what his mentor would say.

He adored Leopardfur, a new warrior who showed amazing potential as a warrior, but she could be very strict sometimes.

"How many times have I told you not to be late!" She hissed as he approached and skidded to a stop beside her.

"I'm sorry, Leopardfur, Sootwhisker kept me up all night searching for ticks in her fur, I lost track of time and dozed off…"

"That's a poor excuse, my lazy apprentice," snapped Leopardfur. "Hopefully Sootwhisker won't have anymore ticks today, or you'll have to do her again, once you've finished with the rest of the elders!"

Whitepaw didn't dare groan, but on the inside he was sighing like an old badger. Today as the third day in a row that he had been picking ticks out of the elders' fur, as punishment for being late. It seemed he was going to go on being late though, if he didn't get any sleep.

"But come, we've got to catch you up on your training or your sisters will be warriors before you. Today we're hunting squirrels."

Whitepaw listened attentively to her instructions as they padded silently through the forest, soaking up every word like a dry ball of moss. When they reached the clearing, he was prepared to try out the new technique. He crouched down, his weight on his back legs, his tail straight out for balance, and waited until he spotted a squirrel scuffling in the undergrowth.

With a mental growl, he shot off through the leaves, being as silent as he possibly could. The squirrel was alerted a fraction of a second too late, and as it turned to scamper away, Whitepaw brought his outstretched paw down on his tail, and finished it off with a swift bite to the neck. He snatched it up and carried the prey proudly back to his mentor.

Leopardfur purred as he dropped the squirrel at her feet. "Very well done. Perhaps you may be excused from your duty tonight. Come, let us hunt now for the Clan, and see how may more squirrels you can catch. They spent the rest of the day hunting, and returned to camp laden with prey.

"Whitepaw!" Mosspaw cried when he returned to camp, carrying a mouthful of squirrels and mice. "Wow! That's a lot of prey!"

Whitepaw nodded smugly and dropped the pieces of fresh-kill onto the pile. "Leopardfur and I hunted for the Clan all day, and I'm excused from elder duty tonight!"

Mosspaw purred enthusiastically. "That's great. Well done."

"I'm going to be the very best warrior that there ever was in RiverClan – someday I'll be deputy too."

Mosspaw grinned. "Okay!" She leaped at him and boxed his ears playfully, before he jumped onto her back and they rolled around together in the dirt. Silverpaw joined them when she returned from hunting, and they all played until they were far too exhausted to continue fighting each other.

The three siblings grabbed a piece of fresh-kill from the pile, and then went to sleep, well-fed and happy.

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Whitepaw felt excitement coursing through his veins. He sat beside his sisters, beneath the Highstone, awaiting Brownstar's announcement. The rest of RiverClan was crowded around them, anticipation flowing amongst the assembly.

"Cats of RiverClan, today is a very special day. Today, one of our most beloved apprentices is to receive his warrior name. Whitepaw, please step forward."

Whitepaw shivered and stepped forward, glancing back at his sisters. Silverpaw gave him a nod of encouragement, and Mosspaw flicked her tail at him, urging him forward. He padded to Brownstar's feet, hardly able to sit still.

"Whitepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code, even at the cost of you life?"

"I do," Whitepaw meowed, his heart practically bursting from his chest.

"Then I give you your warrior name. Whiteclaw, I commend you to StarClan as a warrior in your turn."

"Whiteclaw! Whiteclaw! Whiteclaw!" The Clan cheered, and Whiteclaw picked out his father's deep voice in the multitude of sound.

Father, I will make you proud, he said to Crookedjaw in his mind, knowing that in some way, the deputy could hear.

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Whiteclaw was racing across the hard packed earth, faster and faster, relishing the sound of his Clanmates paws beside his, and the screeching battle cry echoing from Leopardfur's throat. Brownstar had died just a moon ago, and Crookedstar had succeeded him, making Stonefur his deputy. Whiteclaw was proud to go to battle as the leader's son, with his sister Silverpaw at his side.

The RiverClan warriors broke like a flood upon the group of ThunderClan and WindClan cats, ripping, slashing, and yowling their defiance of this intrusion.

Whiteclaw flung himself headlong into the throng, tearing with his sharp teeth at whoever's fur came within his reach. He charged at a skinny WindClan tom, slamming the cat into the muddy ground with the force of a thousand tree-branches, screeching and hissing. The tom struggled and then gave in, and Whiteclaw let the cat up, allowing him to sprint away across the moors. Coward! You know that RiverClan will win this battle.

Whiteclaw unleashed his fury on second cat, sending them away screaming in pain. With satisfaction he bent to clean his paws, watching as his sister and her friend battered at another apprentice. He wanted so badly for Silverpaw to be a warrior like him, but Crookedstar hadn't yet deemed her fit for her warrior name.

Whiteclaw suddenly felt strong paws ram into his side, and looked curiously up into the eyes of a large gray ThunderClan apprentice. With annoyance, Whiteclaw scrabbled to his feet and struck back, catching the tom on the side of his head.

They battled back and forth, and Whiteclaw had to admit that the apprentice was very strong, but he knew that if he really wanted to, he could finish off the long-furred gray tom before he could squeal for mercy.

But Whiteclaw never got the chance. He hadn't been paying any attention to where he put his paws, until all of a sudden, when he placed his left hind-leg on what he thought was solid ground, he felt himself slipping into nothingness. With a jolt of alarm, he realized that he had stepped off the edge of the gorge.

Whiteclaw twisted around and looked up into the panicked eyes of the gray apprentice. "No!" the cat wailed, watching in horror as Whiteclaw slipped on the muddy bank, falling into the gorge.

He saw Leopardfur appear at the edge and reach out a paw – he tried to grab it, he tried to just catch the tip of her paw, but it was too late. Before Whiteclaw could even meow goodbye to is beloved, and forgive the brave apprentice who, hew knew, hadn't meant to cause his death, his head was swallowed up by the roiling waters of the river, never to be seen again.

Goodbye, Silverpaw, Mosspaw, mother, father. Father, I hope that I have made you proud. I was a good warrior, Father. I served you well, but StarClan beckons. Thank the Clan for me, Father. I'll see you again someday.