CHAPTER 11

They continued their training. At first Rosepaw couldn't adjust to the sleep schedule. The cats mostly slept when they were tired. They went in assigned shifts. First was day shift, who woke up near or right before sunrise and operated until mid-after-sunhigh. The second shift woke up just after sunhigh and worked until after sunset, sometime into the night. The third group woke up right before sunset and worked until dawn. Beetledust assigned warriors to different shifts in a never-ending cycle.

Minkfur more or less took over training the apprentices. Sometimes he was accompanied by Brackenfern, or Rushstripe depending on their patrol schedule. After their first session, Beetledust did not make a return appearance. They worked on battle techniques, slowly building up their skills. Minkfur would have them do seemingly pointless exercises, but over the next quarter moon, Rosepaw began to see a rhythm to it. Standing on one front and one back leg improved balance. Making them close their eyes and describe five random objects in the immediate vicinity made them more aware of their surroundings. They didn't travel too far from the camp, as apprentices were prohibited from patrols before their first assessments. They would do specific stretches to loosen certain muscles. Their bodies grew stronger, their minds sharper.

He never allowed them to train claws out again.

It was amazing what she could accomplish without roots to trip her up or thorns to snag her fur. They learned the basic hunting techniques and were sent out to catch specific prey. Adjusting to night hunting was tough, but Rosepaw gradually began to rely more on her other senses. She wasn't as strong as the others, but she was smart. Soon enough, hunting became her fortitude and fighting became her weak point. Funny how so much changed in such a short amount of time.

One day, after a particularly grueling session, the apprentices returned to camp. Minkfur had had them pouncing today. It was so basic, yet even for such a basic move there was technique to be learned. In ThunderClan, the undergrowth would disguise your scent until you were nearly on top of your prey. Move too soon, and the sound of your movements would alert your prey to your presence. At least that was the idea.

In ShadowClan things were different. It didn't take long for Rosepaw to become cognizant to her prey's awareness of her scent, and to adjust accordingly. Certain prey, like birds, you wanted to get as close as possible before striking, as they would hear you before they spotted you. Salamanders, on the other hand, couldn't hear at all, but were hyperaware of the vibrations of your footfalls on the ground. You had to jump much sooner. It was this technique that Minkfur had been trying to teach them.

"I'm never going to master that distance pounce," Mothpaw groaned as she flopped onto her side. "I swear, my pads hurt from trying."

Rosepaw winced. She had not found the practice to be that difficult. Mothpaw had a flair for the dramatic that Rosepaw did not want to play into. Yet it felt unfair to minimize her friend's struggle. Not wanting to sound like a show-off, she merely shrugged in sympathy.

"You didn't seem to have any problems," Mothpaw said, eyeing her. "How'd you do it?"

It wasn't just muscle; if it was, then Mothpaw wouldn't have any problems mastering it. There was something about the placement of her paws for maximum spring. While she thought about how she would answer Mothpaw's query, a cry came from the Highledge.

Both apprentices immediately forgot their conversation as cats came from every den to collect in the gathering darkness. "I wonder if it's Moonpaw's warrior ceremony!" Mothpaw murmured, but Rosepaw frowned. Moonpaw was the oldest ShadowClan apprentice, but she was only a season ahead of them. She wouldn't be getting her name for a while yet. As she watched, a queen appeared in the nursery, her kits tumbling after her. They were too young, yet, to participate in Clan meetings.

Across the clearing, Rosepaw spotted Toadpaw settling beside Lilypaw. She bounded across the clearing, Mothpaw on her heels. "Toadpaw!" she called, then lowered her voice when a nearby warrior flicked his ears in disdain at her. "What's going on?"

"It's the new moon tonight," he whispered. Rosepaw blinked. Had it really been a half-moon since she'd transitioned to ShadowClan? She couldn't believe how time had gotten away from her. "ShadowClan always gathers under the new moon."

"How come?" Mothpaw asked.

"Because it's the darkest night of the moon." His eyes glimmered in the moonlight. "Just watch."

Exchanging a glance with Mothpaw, Rosepaw drew reassurance from her friend. They settled beside one another and waited amongst the other ShadowClan cats. By then the sun had drifted below the horizon, the last of its light giving way to darkness.

Spiderstar padded out of her den, woven into a silver fern that grew right out of the camp wall. She paused, looking around the Clan. Her eyes glowed in the darkness. Everyone watched her, waiting for her to begin.

"Tonight is the new moon," she said. "The coldest and darkest night of the moon. The other Clans fear the darkness, but not ShadowClan. We embrace the night."

As she spoke, she padded into the center of the clearing. The last of the sunlight faded away, allowing the darkness to fully settle. "The new moon is when our ancestors are strongest," Spiderstar said, so quiet that the Clan leaned towards her. "Normally, ShadowClan makes her warriors in the sight of our ancestors, but as we have no apprentices ready for their new names, tonight, we will tell stories. Their stories."

She lifted her head, and Rosepaw followed her gaze. There was a collective gasp. Arching overhead was a brilliant strip of starlight, some red, some white, some twinkling, some so faded they could hardly be seen. Never had Rosepaw seen anything like this. These were the spirits of her ancestors. A sense of awe tingled her muscles.

"We never see stuff like this in ThunderClan," she murmured without thinking.

"We see this every night in WindClan," Mothpaw whispered back. "But not like this. This is...different."

Rosepaw nodded, not looking away. She knew where Mothpaw was coming from. After all, it wasn't like Rosepaw had never seen the stars before! But for the first time she was conscious of the fact that these weren't just stars, but spirits. She felt their closeness, like they were brushing fur with her. The clearing suddenly felt more crowded.

"Shadefern." Spiderstar dipped her head as the elder stepped forward. Their leader stepped back, sitting amongst the warriors while the Clan's only elder took her place.

Minkfur had told her that ShadowClan warriors did not retire. Many of them would carry on well past retiring age. Only when they were too sick or too frail to go on might they choose to retire. Most of them chose a warrior's death. Rosepaw didn't know how that happened, considering there had been peace among the Clans for as long as any cat could remember.

Shadefern was an anomaly. She was ancient, and too weak to go on patrols anymore. She would join the occasional hunt and made herself useful by collecting herbs. But Rosepaw sensed her real purpose was here, under the light of their ancestors. Her bluish gray fur glowed silver in the moonlight. A spark lit her eyes.

"In the beginning there was a forest. Not this forest, but an ancient forest. Over time, five groups of cats came to live in the forest. There were no territories. The cats lived in anarchy, fighting constantly. One night, under a full moon, the cats came together in battle. It was the worst battle they'd ever had, and many cats died.

"As the night neared its end, the cats fell down in exhaustion until only one remained standing. This cat rallied his fighters for another battle. All hope was lost, but suddenly the moon turned blood red. The spirits of those who had fallen descended into the clearing, breaking up the battle and declaring the war over. They said that the cats had acted shamefully by fighting for so long. They told the cats that they had to work together to bring peace to the forest. These spirits then ascended into StarClan."

Rosepaw tilted her head back once again to look at the stars. Which ones were the first spirits? She could picture this battle so vividly, could practically smell the blood.

"The cats decided to meet again under the full moon to maintain the peace. This was the first of the Warrior Code. The cats divided into five camps. The first was led by Thunder. The second by Sky. The third by River. The fourth by Wind. And the fifth was led by Shadow."

She knew that it was Shadow who led the fifth Clan, and yet her heart still pounded at the name.

Around the clearing silence had befallen the Clan. They were all watching Shadefern in rapt attention.

"The ancestors of Thunder's group gave them the gift of forest hunting. No other cat could tread the forest as they could. Their paws would walk over the ground without breaking a leaf, their pelts blended into the trees. With their skills in the forest, no Clan could rival them. They fattened themselves on prey even in the harshest season of leaf-bare.

"Meanwhile, Sky's ancestors granted his followers with the gift of height. They climbed the trees like no other, and even developed the ability to jump high up into the tallest branches. With their clever practice, they were able to snatch prey where no other Clan could follow.

"River was gifted with swimming. He and his followers could handle the strongest currents and catch the largest fish. They took the land along the river for themselves and hooked fish out of the water, which kept them fat all year round.

"Wind was given the gift of speed. She and her followers could run faster than any other. They choose the land on the moor as their own territory, where they alone were able to chase down the fastest rabbits and feast on prey no other Clan could catch.

"Last was Shadow. She was not like the others. She resided in a marshy pine, where no other Clan wanted to go. She was not able to jump into trees, or swim like a fish, or run like a rabbit. But she was smart, and her ancestors gifted her followers with night sight. While the other Clans slept, Shadow and her followers were able to go into the night and catch the most prey. They were most blessed of any Clan."

The moonlight in Shadefern's fur made her look ethereal, as if the spirit-life ahead of her were already beginning to affect her form. Her eyes glowed in the night; all their eyes did. A reminder of what gift StarClan had blessed them with.

"Now divided into equal groups, with equal slices of territory, they were finally able to put an end to the war. As the cats settled into their camps, they were given the names Clan. Every full moon they would come together under StarClan's light and, together, they built the Warrior Code. Now each Clan, ThunderClan, SkyClan, RiverClan, WindClan, and ShadowClan has a place in the forest. We each retain a piece of that gift from our first ancestors. In ShadowClan, our gift is the most special still. We have more than just night sight. We have the courage of all our ancestors and that makes us strong."

"ShadowClan!" Spiderstar called. The cats joined her. "ShadowClan! ShadowClan!"

Shadefern dipped her head to Spiderstar and the meeting broke up. One of the warriors went to the fresh-kill pile and began to distribute pieces. When everyone was with food, they broke into clusters and began to eat.

"That was so cool!" Mothpaw said, practically beaming with excitement. "I never knew that the Clans first battle was on the full moon. I mean, we tell elder's tales in WindClan, but never like that."

She stopped to take a bite of her long-tailed shrew. Rosepaw tilted her head. In ThunderClan, the kits would gather to listen to the elder's tell stories during the day, while the warriors were busy and the apprentices were training. Never had she heard a story like this.

"Do they do this every moon?"

"For the most part," Toadpaw answered. "Unless there's a warrior ceremony to be performed."

Later that night, curled up in her nest, Rosepaw thought about the story Shadefern had told. When she was a kit, a ThunderClan elder named Nutclaw told her that the bloodiest battle in Clan history had happened during a Gathering. He had not told her that it was the first Gathering. The idea that so many cats had died that StarClan had formed out of their spirits made Rosepaw shudder.

As she slept, she could see it, could smell it. So much blood spilled that the marshy pond flowed red, steam rising from the freshly fallen bodies. And standing on top of them all was Sky. It had to be Sky who remained fighting when all else had fallen. Rosepaw pictured him as a silver tabby with long-fur and ice blue eyes, laughing at all the carnage he had wrought. Who stood to face him was not just Thunder, and not just Shadow, but all the other four. Thunder and Shadow together, Wind and River. They would fight until no cat remained.