Chapter One: Friend or Foe?
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The last time Chestnut had been here, he had been five moons old. Now he was six. He trotted through the woods, his pelt shining in the morning sun. He cleaned it early this morning, for he had prepared for this a long time. Now he was finally acting out his plan. Chestnut ruefully remembered his departing with Felix and Sunny, but the weight of being a housecat lifted his shoulders a little; the wound of his best friends and close kin still fresh but closing quickly. Chestnut shook this thought away and forgot his distraught momentarily, picturing his reunion with Smokepaw. Everything would have to be explained to him--clans, he assumed, were a gathering of cats with a leader or so. Are the cats all named with 'paw' at the end of their name? What's life like? What types of food do they hunt? How do they live? Do leaders have nine lives, or is that just an old she-cat's tale? These questions bombarded Chestnut and he broke out into a gallop to make his journey faster. He was there in no time. The birds chirped, the woodpeckers went to work, and the mice, rabbits, and squirrels were left looking for their meals. The forest was quite lively, today, Chestnut remarked. Chestnut found a small patch of sun that poked through the trees and sat there, waiting for movement that indicated a cat's arrival. He waited there until the afternoon, and then a rustle warned him of the cats in the area. He pricked his ears in alarm and smoothed his fur as he realized it was Smokepaw. Happiness and guilt bubbled up inside him but he tried to remain calm. "Chestnut?" Smokepaw asked, tilting his head to one side. "Smokepaw?" Chestnut replied, imitating his newly found friend. Both young toms rushed forward to nuzzle each other, and then Smokepaw pulled back from the embrace. "What's wrong?" Chestnut inquired dryly, pawing the ground enthusiastically. "Has something happened?" Smokepaw shook his head, then gulped. "I think I'll be in big trouble if I take you back to camp! I dunno if Greystar will punish me to unappreciative tasks like emptying the elders' dirt . . ." Chestnut gaped. "Disgusting! Why is that even considered a punishment?" Smokepaw giggled. He flanked Chestnut and guided him forward. "Well, I don't care. It's glad to have you back!"
"Not so fast, there, young Smokepaw. What do you think you're doing?" An old, rumbly voice interjected from behind. Chestnut spun around, his hackles raised, and Smokepaw sidestepped away from Chestnut, pretending he wasn't scared. "Ah, Bluethroat! What, erm, brings you here?" Chestnut saw a huge, blue-grey tom with a scar crossing his right eye down to his nose, his paws thundering closer as he inspected the two young cats with hostility, but not so much Smokepaw. "Smokepaw, are you taking in kittypets without permission, now? You were just apprenticed a moon ago. Who gives you the orders, here? Me, the Deputy, and Greystar. That's it. Nobody else." Turning to Chestnut, he asked roughly, "And why are you here, kittypet? Why do you come to our land? This is not your kittypet garden; you do not come and go as you, please. Shame on you both. You both should know better." Chestnut realized his mistake as soon as Bluethroat said it. Stepping forward into a submissive bow, Chestnut murmured understandingly, "I'm sorry, Bluethroat. I am sorry for coming to your Clan's land without asking to and I apologize on Smokepaw's behalf. Neither he nor I knew better. I am a kittypet--what can you expect of me? Smokepaw, here, as you mentioned yourself, was just apprenticed a moon ago. He's barely a kit, and so am I. I beg your forgiveness." Bluethroat took a step back as though Chestnut had struck him. He looked taken aback. Once he gathered himself enough to speak, he meowed, "Well-spoken words, youngster. I see you're not just some ordinary kittypet, though, so my expectations now are higher than you'd think. You are pretty smart for . . . seven moons?"
"Six." Bluethroat stared at him judgementally, then pushed past them, flicking his tail for them to follow. Smokepaw sidled up to Chestnut and whispered, "Thanks! You're great!" Chestnut blinked warmly at his friend and trotted behind Bluethroat. He wondered what the clan would look like, and what the name of it is. As if reading his mind, Smokepaw mewed excitedly, "I can't wait for you to be apprenticed in GroveClan by Greystar!" Chestnut suppressed the tingles of excitement that he felt in his paws, anxious to get to the clan and learn all about it. "GroveClan?"
"Yup! There are five clans--GroveClan; us, which is north, HillockClan; east, RivuletClan; west, EskerClan; south, and ScoriaClan; southeast. We are north and we are the superior clan because we are the greatest!" Chestnut could tell Smokepaw was just proud of his accomplished clan. "Wow. So . . . is it a lie about nine lives of a great cat?"
"Not at all! Our leaders all have 'star' as a last name because they were blessed by MoonClan. When a cat is blessed by MoonClan, that makes them a leader and they inherit the name 'star'. They are highly respected." Chestnut's face wriggled in confusion. "MoonClan? I thought you said there were five, so why six?" Smokepaw chuckled. "Chestnut, there are five clans, not six! MoonClan is the name of the clan high above us. You see the stars? They are the warrior ancestors watching over us. The first leader and founder of MoonClan was Silentmoon. She was great. It was only after he passed that the rest of Moonclan had made laws and rules and customs to abide by." Chestnut's eyes widened with curiosity. "Woah," He breathed. The clans were cooler than he'd thought. "So . . . why are you named Smokepaw when Bluethroat doesn't have 'paw' in his name?" Smokepaw sped up and Chestnut raced to catch up to him. "Because I'm an apprentice," He answered brightly. "When a cat is six moons or older only then do you have a name with an ending of 'paw'. For a kit, it would be Smokekit. For an apprentice, it would be Smokepaw. For a warrior, it would be Smokefur." Chestnut cocked his head. "You choose your new name?" Smokepaw shook his head. "No, not me, silly! Clan leaders choose whatever name they think fits. My mentor is Lionstripe, and Bluethroat is his close friend which is why we didn't get into much trouble back there. Partly 'cause you were convincing!" Chestnut reached out and nuzzled his friend's flank, amusement making his whiskers tremble. He smiled his thanks. The three cats kept on trotting until they reached a dense bracken wall. Bluethroat slowed to a halt and sniffed the air. He glanced just once at Chestnut and Smokepaw before pushing through them. Smokepaw followed instantly, but Chestnut felt uneasy all of a sudden. What was he walking into? This decision would change his life forever. He would lose his housecat friends, his siblings, his mother . . .
These thoughts made his eyes water and he blinked to clear it. "Are you OK, Chestnut?"
"I'm fine." Chestnut's paws prickled every step he took that lured him closer. Sighing quietly, he broke into a gallop, bolting right through Smokepaw and bursting into a sunny clearing. It was beautiful. Ferns cowered in the shade, plants and growth covered the camp and made it seem invisible and completely camouflaged. The GroveClan cats lived in peace and harmony, but their pelts were battle-scarred and dull. Their eyes glistened with intense interest at Chestnut's arrival, though they did not stop carrying the twigs, branches, leaves, berries, fruit, beetles, or food held tightly in their jaws. This is what teamwork looked and felt like. Kindness and happiness. An enormous grey cat with one fully white ear strode forward, meeting Bluethroat with a courteous nod. Bluethroat bowed and rose, his voice barely a breath. "A new cat Smokepaw found rustling in the forest has shown me warrior signs and as a mentor, I must train, and so I found a cat that is willing enough. I will not be his mentor, no, but I tell you, he is an exceptional young cat. He will need an experienced mentor, that's for sure." He glanced at Chestnut again, and he stiffened, aware of so many cats watching him. Smokepaw bounded to his side. "What are you doing?! You could get killed! I might add that this is unknown territory, and clan cats don't treat kittypets very well." Chestnut ignored his friend and took a couple of steps forward that brought him to Bluethroat's side. Bluethroat looked down at him, scrutinizing his every move. "This is the cat?" The huge grey tom asked, dipping his head to sniff Chestnut. His bright yellow eyes pierced Chestnut's. These forest cats were tougher than bricks. Chestnut nodded. "Hmm." Bluethroat let his tail skim Chestnut's flank. "Don't be too rough on him, Briarstone. He is new and he does not know the ways of clan life yet." Chestnut's eyes skipped over to Bluethroat for a second, his heart beating faster with acceptance. Bluethroat was now his favourite cat besides Smokepaw. Birarstone sat down and thoughtfully licked his, and rolled it over his white ear a couple of times. "What's there to decide, Briarstone? It's up to Greystar, anyways." Briarstone's eyes sent a chill down Chestnut's spine. Whatever the look he gave Bluethroat, Chestnut decided it was out of menace. He wondered what Briarstone had against Bluethroat. "I'll tell Greystar to announce him to the clan," He muttered, sitting back up and striding away. "What was that about, Bluethroat? Briarstone seems unpredictable and therefore unstable. He could attack any of his clanmates. Aren't you fearful?" Bluethroat gasped and shot Chestnut an indignant yet inquiring glare. "It is very intelligent of you to notice these things, but do not voice these thoughts. It may offend the wrong cat. To me, it does not, for I do not have a lot of respect for Briarstone," Assumed already. "but it is offensive of you to say that to other cats because he is loyal to his clan always. Most cats may be outraged by what you just said." Chesnut nodded considerately. "I see. I won't do it again." I will bite my tongue, he finished in his head. Bluethroat chuckled and waved him off to where Smokepaw was crouching with two other cats, one an orange and white tom with two grey ears and two liquid-blue eyes, another that was a sandy-ginger with spots of light grey and other spots of white. From this distance, its eye colour was hard to see. Chestnut trotted over, his tail high with happiness. But then he let it drop when the sandy-ginger she-cat spat, "Ew! Smokepaw was just telling me about you. Is this clan no longer honourable? Why are we taking in kittypets, now? Rogues I can get, but kittypets?! Is this clan so unstable?" She bolted upright and rushed away, clearly wanting to get out of that place. She called over her shoulder, "Now that spot reaks of kittypet scent! Disgusting!" Smokepaw rolled his eyes. "Don't mind Daypaw. She'll find anything to get upset about to make herself feel better. So, Chestnut, this is Foxpaw!" Chestnut blinked kindly at him. "Hi!" Foxpaw mewed excitedly. Chestnut was about to reply when a loud booming voice interrupted. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Treestump for a clan meeting." Chestnut stared up at the huge treestump where a medium-sized white-grey cat stood. Chestnut held his tongue in anticipation, but he guessed that that cat was Greystar, leader of GroveClan. "Ooh, that's probably about you, Chestnut!" Smokepaw meowed from his side. The three young toms dashed to the Treestump and waited. "I'd clean your pelt just in case," Foxpaw murmured to Chestnut. He thanked him and began washing thoroughly while Greystar announced. When the clan arrived, he mewed, "Today you might have noticed a kittypet shuffling around here, and you might also be wondering, 'Why is no cat attacking this intruder?'. Because we have decided--Briarstone and I--to take him in. Chestnut, please step forward." Chestnut's back felt hot with all of the clan cats' stares that bore onto his glossy coat as he strode forward. He bowed when he reached Greystar's paws and he looked up into his wondrous eyes and wondered what it was like to be in his leader's position. Is it hard? Does he suffer from it? "Chestnut, although you have no kit name, I assign this name to you by Moonclan in hopes you follow through and become a great warrior who is willing to die for your new clan." He paused, and Chesnut pondered if he was supposed to do or say something. Chestnut swallowed, and Greystar continued, "Chestnut, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed and welcomed into your new clan, GroveClan. From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Dogpaw, and your mentor will be . . ." Greystar scanned the gathered cats for the cat he'd chosen. ". . . Bluethroat." Bluethroat stalked up to the Treestump, but suddenly he lurched sideways. Dogpaw bent his head, curiosity making him bold. Greystar looked away as Dogpaw ventured to the centre of the clearing. Bluethroat was on his back, pinned down by a small white tom. And with a vicious snarl, "We claim this land at last!" a whole clan of cats descended into the clearing, screeching and writhing with other cats, fur flying in the sky. Dogpaw unsheathed his claws, his heart racing with the flow of the battle, his veins throbbing with anger, his head swimming with fear. Today could be the day he dies. Before he could think more, a silver she-cat knocked Dogpaw off his feet and pressed his cheek to the ground with one white forepaw. "Why's a kittypet in a clan battle?" She asked aloud, Dogpaw assumed to herself. This puzzlement gave him the perfect opportunity to strike. Dogpaw lurched upwards, sending her flying. He darted out of the way when she swiped at him and she shrieked as he bit the sensitive spot on her tail. Dogpaw spun sideways when he was hit to the side of the head, and darkness clouded his vision. At the edges of his eyes . . . was that a particularly large growing bruise? No, bruises don't grow that quickly. Ah, he thought as he knew what was happening. As Dogpaw thudded to the ground, he saw Smokepaw and Foxpaw rush to his side and fight the battle there.
Dogpaw officially now knew that he had three friends, and one foe.
Winter 
Day Weather: 
