by Erin Hunter
Weakened Clan by focusing its energies on war, apprenticing kits too early, and forcing Clan to eat crow-food instead of prey.
Blinded and killed by own mother, Yellowfang.
Deputy: Blackfoot (later Blackstar)
Apprentices: Mosspaw, Volepaw (both died mysteriously before becoming warriors)
NIGHTSTAR
Elderly black tom.
Brave but frail.
Took over leadership when Brokenstar was driven into exile.
Struggled to rebuild broken Clan—StarClan did not grant him the nine lives of a leader.
Died from sickness from Carrionplace shortly after his deputy died, leaving Clan target for Tigerstar’s ambitions.
Deputy: Cinderfur
Apprentice: Dawnpaw (Dawncloud)
TIGERSTAR
Large dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes and long front claws.
Ambitious, crafty, charismatic, and brilliant fighter.
Exiled by Bluestar after attempt on her life.
After period in exile, gained leadership of ShadowClan—rebuilding it with exceptional efficiency.
Allied ShadowClan with RiverClan to make TigerClan.
Brought BloodClan into forest at cost of many cats’ lives.
Killed by Blood, the leader of BloodClan.
Deputy: Blackfoot (later Blackstar)
Apprentice: Ravenpaw (while in ThunderClan)
BLACKSTAR
Large white tom with huge jet-black paws.
Arrogant and defensive. Tigerclaw brought him back to ShadowClan from exile—he still feels a hint of gratitude and loyalty toward the dangerous tabby.
Led Clan away from Twoleg devastation in the forest to new lake home.
Deputy: Russetfur
Apprentice: Tallpaw (Tallpoppy)
SIGNIFICANT MEDICINE CATS
PEBBLEHEART
Dark gray tabby tom.
Selfless, caring, desperate to help his Clanmates with any problem. Weakened himself by working tirelessly.
Realized that rats at Carrionplace were a source of infection. (Unfortunately he died from a rat-borne infection.) (See Beyond the Territories, How the Moonstone Was Discovered.)
YELLOWFANG
(See ThunderClan Medicine Cats, Yellowfang.)
RUNNINGNOSE
Small gray-and-white tom with perpetual sniffle.
Nervous and quiet. Lived long enough to retire and become an elder.
Apprentice: Littlecloud
LITTLECLOUD
Undersize brown tabby tom with light blue eyes.
Compassionate and devoted to his calling.
Close friends with ThunderClan medicine cat Cinderpelt ever since she saved his life.
As a warrior, sought help from ThunderClan during time of terrible disease. Returned with remedy that saved ShadowClan.
YELLOWFANG SPEAKS:
A Thankless Kit
As soon as I found out I was going to have kits, I knew it was a punishment from StarClan. Medicine cats are not supposed to fall in love. My relationship with Raggedstar was wrong in every way, and I knew it.
But I never expected all of ShadowClan would be punished for my mistakes.
I kept my secret well. No cat knew that their medicine cat was carrying kits, although of course I told Raggedstar. He was so pleased. ... That should have frightened me even more. The arrogance of thinking we could do whatever we wanted, without consequences …
It was a hard birth, a horrible birth. That was an omen too. I snuck out of camp that morning, knowing my kits were coming. I found a hollow in a dead tree, filled with damp leaves. There was a smell of toadstools and something rotting, but I didn’t have the strength to drag myself any farther. And I hoped the stench would hide my scent while I gave birth, alone in the woods. I didn’t want any ShadowClan cats to find me, not even Raggedstar. I just wanted it to be over.
I felt like I was lying in that dead tree for days. Everything hurt—my whole body, down to the tips of my fur and the ends of my claws. As a medicine cat, I should have been able to take care of myself, but I was too weak to do anything, even eat the herbs I’d brought.
Finally there were three small bundles next to me on the pile of leaves. Two of them were squirming; one was completely still. I prodded it with my paw, but she had been born dead. Her eyes would never open.
I dragged the other two toward me. With all the strength I could manage, I began to lick them, trying to warm them and wake them up. One let out an angry wail the minute I touched him; the other only whimpered slightly and jerked her paws. I could see that the tom kit was a fighter right from the beginning. His lungs were so powerful, I was surprised it didn’t bring the entire Clan running to find us. He battered his sister with his paws every time he moved, but she barely reacted.
I tried as long as I could, licking and licking her, but her breathing only got shallower and shallower, until finally it stopped altogether. Her tail twitched once and was still. I buried my nose in her fur, feeling grief crash down on me. It was a clear sign from StarClan. These kits should never have been born.
I turned my attention to my only surviving kit and saw the expression on his small, flat face. He was new to the world—couldn’t yet see, could barely crawl to my belly to feed. And yet his face was already twisted with strong emotion. ... Rage? Hatred? I’d never seen such a terrifying look on any cat, let alone a tiny newborn kit.
Fear flooded through me, making me cold. Maybe this kit wasn’t meant to survive, either. A kit born with so much anger in him could mean only grave danger to the Clan, maybe to the whole forest.
But then he squirmed over to me and pressed his face into my fur. He was so small, so helpless. Perhaps I had misunderstood what I’d seen. He was only a little kit, after all—my kit, and the son of Raggedstar, the cat I loved. I couldn’t keep him for myself, but I could watch him from across the clearing as he grew up. I could make sure he turned into a fine warrior. I licked the top of his head, and he let out a small purr. My heart seemed to expand to fill my whole chest.
I buried his sisters before we returned to camp, digging deep into the dirt so no cat would ever sniff them out. Then I slunk back through the undergrowth, my fur matted and stinking of toadstools, the kit dangling from my mouth. I stopped to clean myself in a pool near the camp entrance. By the time we entered the camp, no cat would be able to guess the ordeal I had been through.
Raggedstar spotted us the minute I pushed through the bramble tunnel. He barely even looked at me; his eyes were all for the kit, and they were full of hope and excitement. He came bounding across the clearing to follow me into the nursery.
Lizardstripe was there, of course, tending to her own two kits, born a few days earlier. Her pale brown tabby fur and white underbelly seemed to glow in the darkness of the nursery den. She looked at me with narrow, unfriendly eyes. I had never really liked or trusted Lizardstripe, but she was the only nursing queen at the moment. I had no choice.
I dropped the kit at her paws, and he let out another furious shriek.
“What,” said Lizardstripe, “is that?”
“It’s a kit,” I said.
“It’s my kit,” Raggedstar said proudly, shouldering his way into the den.
“Oh, yes?” Lizardstripe said dryly. “What a miracle. If I’d known toms could have kits, I would have made Mudclaw have these brats of mine himself.”
Raggedstar ignored her. The space seemed to get smaller with him in it, as if he drew all the light into himself. I wanted to press myself into his fur and tell him everything I’d been through and about the two tiny bodies out in the forest. But he still wasn’t looking at me.
He crouched and sniffed at his son. The kit tried to lift his head and then swiped his paw through the air, connecting with Raggedstar’s nose. Our leader jerked his head back in surprise.
“Look at that!” he cried delightedly. “He’s a little warrior already!”
Lizardstripe’s yellow gaze was making me uncomfortable.
“His mother wishes to keep her identity secret,” I said. “She cannot be a mother to this kit, and she hopes that you will take him in for her.”
Lizardstripe lashed her tail. “What kind of mouse-brained nonsense is that?” she snapped. “Why should I have to put up with another mewling lump of fur? I didn’t ask for these kits, either, but you don’t see me dumping them on some other cat. It’s not my job to take care of every unwanted kitten in the Clan.”
Raggedstar snarled, and Lizardstripe shrank back in her nest. “He is not unwanted,” Raggedstar spat. “He is my son, and I will always claim him as my own. You are being given a great honor, you unworthy cat. Who wouldn’t want to be mother to the Clan leader’s son—and perhaps the future leader of the Clan himself?”
Lizardstripe hissed softly. But she knew better than to argue with Raggedstar. And perhaps she saw the wisdom of his words. As the mother of Raggedstar’s son—even if the Clan knew she wasn’t his real mother—she would hold power in the Clan.
“All right, fine,” she spat ungraciously. “Hand him over.”
As I nestled my son into the curve of her belly, I felt a strong pang of uneasiness. What kind of life would he have, with an ambitious queen like Lizardstripe raising him? No cat would know I was his mother, not even the kit himself. I would never be able to sway him to be good, to follow the warrior code and believe in the wisdom of StarClan. I would just have to hope that he would turn out all right.
“His name is Brokenkit,” I said, my voice faltering. Lizardstripe nodded, seeing the bend in his tail, like a broken branch. That’s where every cat would think he’d gotten his name. But the truth is, I named him for the feeling in my chest as I left him there, as if my heart were breaking in two, as if my life had broken down the middle.
Most cats assumed that Raggedstar’s deputy, Foxheart, was Brokenkit’s mother. She was always a little secretive, and he let her get away with a lot. She never contradicted the rumors; it was to her advantage to let other cats think she was the secret mother of Raggedstar’s kit. She died a few moons later, anyway, in a battle with rats near Carrionplace, shortly before Lizardstripe died of greencough. The next deputy, Cloudpelt, didn’t last much longer than they did, and by then Brokentail was old enough for Raggedstar to make him deputy.
Raggedstar always thought his son would make a great leader. He was blind to all of Brokentail’s faults—his cunning, his ruthlessness, his violent nature. Raggedstar didn’t care for me anymore. His life was all about Brokentail from the moment he laid eyes on that kit.
My punishment stretched on as Brokentail clawed his way to power, and I realized what a monster I’d brought into the forest. But it was my mistake, and I had to live with it. And there was a part of me that still remembered him as a newborn kit—the tiny scrap of fur I nursed in the hollow of a dead tree.
When I had to kill him to protect my new adopted Clan, I knew I was finally at the end of my punishment. I had brought him into the world; I had to send him out, as painful as it was.
But by then I had found a truer son than Brokentail ever could have been. I only hope Fireheart will rise to be the great leader that Brokenstar never was and that, in some small way, I have helped to set him on that path.
Then, perhaps, StarClan will forgive me at last.
STARCLAN
Wait until it is dark and the night sky is full of stars. Can you hear them? Do they whisper to you of secret places and adventures? Follow the path of the moon through the forest. Feel the bracken crackle under your paws and the wind ruffle your fur. Mist curls around you and blurs the familiar shapes of the forest. Press through the ferns until you come out into a clearing.
Towering over you are four giant oaks, massive and dark, outlined by the moonlight. In the center of the clearing, on the Great Rock, I will be waiting for you.
I am Lionheart. I was a ThunderClan warrior. In a fierce battle, I died defending my Clan. Now I belong to StarClan, a Clan of the spirits of our warrior ancestors.
Yes, you are dreaming. We often walk in the dreams of those we watch. Don’t be afraid. I know it looks like a land of mist and shadows, but I promise there is enough light to warm the darkest of hearts.
From here, we watch over the Clans we have left behind.
The saddest moments are when kits come to join us, whether through illness, predators, or unexpected disaster. But we love it when new kits are born, and my heart swells with pride every time a ThunderClan apprentice becomes a warrior.
Sometimes we can sense the destiny of these warriors. It is clearest with new leaders. When Firestar became leader of ThunderClan, I could see that he would lead the Clan through terrible times with courage and wisdom. When Tigerstar rose to power in ShadowClan, we all knew that darkness lay ahead.
Sadly, we cannot change what will happen to the cats we watch. I would have done anything to prevent the fire that swept through ThunderClan territory or to save my Clanmates from the dog pack. But the lives of warriors are filled with tragedy, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. All we can do is warn our descendants with signs and prophecies and hope that they listen.
The cats with the closest bond to StarClan usually become medicine cats. Spottedleaf had a particularly special connection to us; Firestar’s daughter Leafpool does as well. Firestar himself often has prophetic dreams—he even had them when he was a kittypet. These cats meet us in their dreams. They can read the omens we paint in the sky or the leaves or the water. They know the meaning of a falling star or a strange cloud pattern. We need them to understand us, so they can keep our Clans safe.
There are sacred places too, which inhabit both the world of living cats and the world of dreams. Here leaders may come to receive visions and seek our guidance. We also grant them nine lives and their star name.
We most often speak to cats of our own Clans. Yet, sometimes, we reach out to cats of other Clans. I understand the other Clans better than I did when I was alive. I wish them well, even the cats I fought. We need all four Clans to survive.
Cats who have caused great pain in their lives wander a strange forest of darkness in death. We sense this distant place. Tigerstar, Brokenstar, Clawface, and Darkstripe are there, exiled from the Clan of their ancestors, of no comfort to one another.
There are other skies where other cats walk as well. The Tribe of Rushing Water have ancestors of their own, and while our questing cats were in the mountains, we could not see them clearly. They were in the territory of different spirits, where we couldn’t go.
On the journey to the lake, we had trouble reaching our warriors. We had to travel ourselves, through unfamiliar sky paths, to find our new home. We could not have found it without them, and they could not have found it without us.
Are you wondering how we can be here, at Fourtrees, if the forest has been destroyed by Twolegs? Don’t worry. Fourtrees will always be in our hearts. It is a part of StarClan too, wherever we are.
Now return to your den and your peaceful dreams. Thank you for visiting StarClan. Remember, keep your eyes and ears open, watch for anything unusual, and you too may see the signs we leave in the world around you.
SNOWFUR SPEAKS:
A Sad, Cold Death
My name is Snowfur, and I am now one of the warrior ancestors. I came to StarClan as a young warrior, killed by a Twoleg monster while I was chasing ShadowClan intruders out of our territory. I mourned along with my Clan, but not for my own life. I only wished I could have stayed until my son became a warrior. Of course, I watched his ceremony from the stars, a few moons later. Whitestorm was so excited, so brave, and I was so proud of him. I think he knew I was there with him during his vigil.
It was not long after that when we learned that my sister, Bluefur, was having kits. I wished we could just be happy for her, but she had broken the warrior code, and I knew it was going to bring her much sorrow. The father of the kits was not ThunderClan. He was the RiverClan deputy, Oakheart.
“A kit is coming to join us,” Bramblebe
rry, the former RiverClan medicine cat, meowed. “Half ThunderClan, half RiverClan.”
“Half-Clan!” spat a ShadowClan warrior.
“It is an innocent kit,” Brambleberry meowed with fierce anger in her voice.
The cats of StarClan were gathered at Fourtrees, which was blanketed by snow just like the whole forest in the world of our descendants. It was a bitter leaf-bare, and many cats were starving. More cats came to StarClan every day, and we were all feeling frustrated that there was nothing we could do to help.
“This kit did not have to die,” hissed Moonflower. She was my and Bluefur’s mother, but she did not approve of what my sister was doing. “It is Bluefur’s fault for falling in love outside the Clan in the first place. And now she is dragging her three helpless kits out into the snow with her! Of course one of them is going to die. I’m amazed the other two will make it as far as RiverClan.”
“But they will be safer there than they were in ThunderClan,” meowed a RiverClan spirit. “RiverClan has more prey than any other Clan. If Oakheart will take them in, they have a better chance of survival than they did before.”
“We don’t know that,” Moonflower meowed. “If she had kept them safely in our den, all three of them might have lived to be warriors.”
“And what else lies along that path?” meowed Owlstar, one of the oldest ThunderClan spirits. “Study that future carefully, Moonflower.”
“It is too dark to see it clearly,” she protested.
“But we can guess,” Owlstar murmured. “If Bluefur stays in the nursery with her kits, Thistleclaw will become deputy instead. He is an ambitious, violent cat, and we know it. He would lead his warriors to attack other Clans—the last thing this forest needs right now. Would you rather see more warriors coming to join us because of his bloody leadership?”
