Chapter 1 Snow lay thickly over the ground, but cats acted like it was nothing as they walked. The sun’s gentle rays just touched the top branches of the trees, and one kit in ShadowClan was already awake — Blazekit. He fluffed out his mottled golden fur to keep the chilly leafbare breeze from reaching his bones, but already his eyes were searching for something. A large smoky gray head pushed out of the brambles guarding the warriors’ den. The tom’s nose twitched, taking in the fresh morning air. Blazekit bounded up to the warrior, his paws dancing with delight. “Flintclaw!” he mewed cheerfully. His father was a brave and powerful warrior, who had risen up the ranks to become a deputy. He was trusted and respected throughout the Clans. Flintclaw’s yellow eyes lit up when he saw the kit. “You’re up early,” he rumbled in his deep and smooth voice. Blazekit nodded eagerly. “A ShadowClan warrior should awake early to take the extra time to train and hunt,” he recited, repeating the words the elders, leader and Flintclaw often said. His father’s eyes glowed with approval. “Yes. Come, let us eat,” he said, nudging the stocky kit to the fresh-kill hollow, a shallow hole in the ground dug out to store prey. Blazekit’s stomach growled, as if to prove Flintclaw’s point. The broad-shouldered deputy picked up a fat rabbit, but Blazekit knew it was not for himself, but for Lilyshade and Flamekit. Blazekit chose a young vole. He knew the better prey was for warriors who deserved it. Blazekit took a bite of vole, his eyes gleaming as he watched the warriors of ShadowClan wake up. Shrewstem shook out his creamy brown fur, his eyes half-closed with sleep. He gazed at the entrance, waiting for anyone to come out. He had already finished his small vole. Rockfoot, who was already out of the warriors’ den, called out a sleepy greeting to Flintclaw, his head dipped. However, Blazekit knew the best warriors would always, never fail to wake up early to defend and hunt for their Clan. That was what his father taught him and what he would always uphold. A mew sounded from the nursery as Flamekit stumbled into the clearing, his paws still unsteady and his voice still hoarse. Lilyshade peered out of the entrance and padded after her weaker kit, her fur bushing up to keep out the chill of the leafbare. Wildkit, the small-sized tom-kit whom the warriors had found abandoned outside camp, followed, but banked sharply to enter the elders’ den. Blazekit bounced to Flamekit. “You should have been awake earlier!” he told his littermate. The ginger tom yawned and replied, “No. I need rest.” It was firm and steady, but he started breathing hard because of his breathing issues. Flintclaw was watching from the other side of the camp, his eyes filled with disapproval. He clearly didn’t approve of Blazekit talking to his weaker sibling, but the young golden kit didn’t care for once. He would protect his brother — protect the weak, like the smoky gray tomcat always said. “Don’t you have something to do?” Lilyshade asked pointedly, jerking her head in the direction of her mate. Blazekit blinked. His mother never really loved him — more so she wanted him away from Flamekit. Perhaps it was because Flamekit was weaker and she was scared he might harm him. Or maybe it was because Flintclaw took a liking to him and not to her, which made her jealous. Either way, Lilyshade would never love him with a mother’s fierce love — that was reserved for Flamekit, Flamekit only. Blazekit padded over to Flintclaw, who was up and ready. “I’ll teach you some battle moves today,” the deputy spoke firmly, his tone serious and no-nonsense. Blazekit’s heart jumped — battle moves! They were what defended his Clan. He fluffed out his fur and puffed out his chest, but a thought that flashed through his head stopped him in his tracks. What about Flamekit? Blazekit realized he must have said that aloud, as Flintclaw was staring at Flamekit with barely disguised anger. His brother immediately shook his head, refusing. “No. I want to stay with Lilyshade,” he meowed resolutely. “But you could learn how to defend your Clan!” He protested against his littermate. He couldn’t believe Flamekit would turn down a chance to learn battle moves — they were the entire core of their defence! But his brother remained firm, repeatedly shaking his head as he pressed against Lilyshade. His mother’s ears were flattened with anger — and that anger was not directed at Flintclaw, like it usually was, but at him. Blazekit took a step back, scared for a moment. However, he berated himself harshly for doing so. A fine warrior he was if he was scared of a queen! Flintclaw would definitely disapprove. When the young golden kit glanced at his father, there was only a forlorn acceptance in the dark shadows of his yellow eyes. He looked like he had lost something, and for the first time, he looked uncertain.
The two cats who were mates gazed at each other — well, Lilyshade gazed, but Flintclaw’s eyes hardened like stones. “I want to speak to you,” Lilyshade told him at last, after a moment of painful and awkward silence. The tom just dipped his head, not speaking. The two cats padded to the side of the nursery, a cramped, narrow space where no one would bother them. But they didn’t wager on Blazekit listening in. He crouched in the nursery, looking asleep but actually listening. “What?” Flintclaw’s voice was deep and edgy. “Why are you so intent on making Blazekit a copy of yourself?” Lilyshade’s tone was so furious, so worried and so concerned at the same time. Blazekit’s heart quickened. It sounded like Lilyshade actually worried about him. There was a rustle, like Flintclaw was shifting his paws. “I’m not,” he replied, sounding uncomfortable. Lilyshade pushed her body against the nursery wall. “Not? That’s not what I see,” she snapped, “You teach him to value the Clan above all else, to awake early to hunt and defend ShadowClan. But have you ever worried about his health? If he gets injured, will he have to keep fighting and eventually perish in battle? How can it be that you wish that upon your own son?” Blazekit wondered how his father would defend against this accusation. His mind was blank, his ears drinking in information. He would dwell on that later. “The greatest death is to perish in battle — if not, you are cowardly,” Flintclaw growled back. “So are you calling the elders cowardly? Your own father, too?” Her voice was now weary and wary. Surely what Flintclaw taught me is good? In Lilyshade’s voice it seems like it’s wrong. Is it? The young kit stiffened when he heard a deep snarl in Flintclaw’s throat. His father was angry — and when he was, it could be murderous. “Maybe. They may have served the Clan before, but not so courageously that they die in battle yet survive to be old.” Blazekit flinched; he had never heard his father speak like that before. It truly showed a side of Flintclaw that Blazekit never met. It made the kit scared. “They are weak; cowards, that they didn’t give their all to defend their Clan. It is useless to feed them.” His voice was cold. A gasp exploded from Lilyshade. “How could you say that? To your own father, as well!” she growled in horror. He heard Flintclaw’s tail whip at the wall. “I don’t care!” he flashed, then pawsteps sounded and he raced off. I’m sure that wasn’t Flintclaw at all. The real Flintclaw would tell me to honor the elders. He must have been shocked. He must have. He wouldn’t be this cruel. Even the youngest kits would know to care for those who fought before and protected their generation, especially their parents. Blazekit pressed himself against the ground. Surely Flintclaw isn’t like that? Yes, that’s not Flintclaw. That’s not my father. He was just hurt. Blazekit paused and looked up when Flamekit stumbled in, collapsing to sleep in his plush, soft nest. And I’ll be like him. I’ll defend the weak, protect my Clan, and honor StarClan. I’ll be the greatest warrior the Clans have ever known! With that, Blazekit stood up a little straighter, pushing his shoulders back. This was his vow, one he would uphold and keep. Previous: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1232585740/ Next:
