Table of Contents
Pounceshade’s Introduction
“Ah, hello friends! I’m glad you could join me. Viperstar told me to help you learn about our rules. Yes, Wolfkit. I’m aware that you know the Warrior Code already. But FrostClan is special. We were given our own Code, one that we have passed on for generations. No, it doesn’t replace the Code! It just… adds more rules.
Yes, of course there’s a reason! Has Snowspots been putting chick’s down in your head? If you quiet down, I’ll tell you a story about all of them.”
1. Any cat born without Pure fur will become a Carver
Bouncesnow hissed at Redflower, the two she-cats glaring at each other. “You have no idea what you’re doing! Don’t you know anything about hunting?”
“It’s not like you’re doing much for the tunnels!” Redflower shot back. “Every time you go carving you start to complain about it!”
Bouncesnow felt her fur prickle in annoyance. “Of course I do! I don’t want to spend my days licking ice! I deserve to be hunting and fighting!”
“Enough.” The single word was quiet but powerful, carrying enough authority to cause the very air to still.
Froststar stepped into the den, watching the two she-cats with deep, knowing eyes. Bouncesnow felt her heart quail at the mere sight of him. “What’s the problem? Clanmates shouldn’t fight like this. Are you no better than ShadeClan?”
“No!” Bouncesnow and Redflower said at once, their synced voices verging on desperate. It was pure instinct to hate ShadeClan – both she-cats had been born in FrostClan, raised on stories of ShadeClan’s betrayal alongside their mothers’ milk.
“Then do not fight,” Froststar’s alluring voice soothed Bouncesnow’s irritation. “We are Clanmates. Let’s discuss this together.” The big tom settled down, curling his tail around his paws. He watched the pair expectantly.
Bouncesnow shuffled her paws, feeling a bit silly now. “Well… it’s just that I don’t want to do carving. I want to hunt and fight, like you and Dapplewing and Swiftflight.”
“And I just want to do carving,” Redflower interjected. “I’m good at it, and hunting has never been my strength.”
Froststar watched the two she-cats closely. “Do you know why this is?” He stood then, almost twice Bouncesnow’s size. Her heart fluttered – in excitement or terror, she wasn’t sure – and she hastily shook her head.
“It’s because you, Bouncesnow, have been blessed by the First Pure One. He has graced you with a beautiful pelt.” Froststar’s eyes shifted to the other she-cat. “And you, Redflower, you are not blessed, but also not cursed. You lack the coloration that marks a cat as a Pure One, so you have no desire to live a warrior’s life.”
The big tom stood then. “… alright. I believe it’s time for us to make a rule.”
“A rule?” Bouncesnow squeaked, then hated herself for sounding so stupid.
Froststar gave her an amused glance and said, “Yes, a rule. I don’t want cats like Redflower to waste their energy on tasks that cats like you should be undertaking.” He flicked his tail. “So, therefore, there will be a rule. All cats who have not been marked as a Pure One will become… Carvers. Yes, Carvers.
“You will be in charge of carving through the tunnels.” Froststar’s tail flicked once. “Pure Ones will still be warriors, but they will no longer partake in carving the tunnels. Does this sound fair?”
Bouncesnow glanced at Redflower, and the she-cat nodded once. Turning back to Froststar, the white she-cat said, “Yes, that is fair. Thank you for your wisdom, Froststar.”
That night, after Froststar conversed with his senior warriors, he announced to the Clan that the new ranking – Carvers – would still nest with warriors and be trained to hunt, but their main focus would be on carving the tunnels. Additionally, they were to be ranked after warriors due to the fact they do not defend the Clan. Though not everyone was pleased, no one complained, and the rule passed without a problem.
2. Carvers, though ranking below Warriors, shall not be mistreated
3. All apprentices will be taught how to carve ice before they become a warrior
“Swiftstar, we can’t go on like this!” Ferretclaw shouted amongst the shouts of complaints. The tom lashed his tail, fury filling his heart at the unfairness of it all.
One of the other carvers, Marigoldstem, had been attacked over taking Blackspring’s prey. The she-cat’s neck had been sliced open on an errant stone and she had died almost instantly. However, Swiftstar had ignored their pleas for justice and simply said, “That’s not my concern.”
Now the she-cat was glaring at Ferretclaw, her tail lashing. “How dare you?!” She shouted, claws unsheathed. “You are not a warrior! You are a carver! You have no authority, no ranking!”
“But we’re still cats!” Ferretclaw’s fur began to bristle and he saw his leader’s eyes narrow. “We deserve to be treated with respect!”
Another carver, Morningfire, joined in and said, “We’re half-starved and are still expected to work!”
“And we get put on the worst duties when there are plenty of apprentices!” That was Meadowskip, the newest carver.
“Warrior apprentices! Not carver apprentices!” Ravenbelly, one of the warriors, countered. “Why should they have to do hard labor when you guys get to sit around and stuff your faces?! All you do is lick some ice, it’s not that hard!”
“Not that hard?!” Morningfire shot back. “Like your lazy tail has ever done anything hard! All you do is prance around and tell us what to do!” She hissed and moved closer to Ravenbelly, fangs bared.
Milksplash stepped between the two. “That’s enough, we shouldn’t fight.”
“You’re siding with them?!” Ravenbelly sounded aghast.
“I’m not siding with anyone! These are our Clanmates.” Milksplash flicked her tail. “Don’t forget your father was a carver.”
Ravenbelly snarled at that, then lashed out. His claws tore into Milksplash’s face, staining her lovely white-and-gray fur with blood. Ferretclaw’s stomach sank. This is getting out of paw!
Gasps ran through the warrior crowd. “You’d attack your mother?!” Arcticscar stepped forward. “How dare you?”
“If she sides with them,” Swiftstar said coldly, “then it will happen. She deserves to be punished.”
Many of the warriors stayed silent, but there were outraged cries from the group. Arcticscar and his mate, Rabbitshine, walked away from the group entirely, standing beside Milksplash and Morningfire defiantly.
“Swiftstar,” Fawnpelt, the oldest of the carvers, called out, “this isn’t what Froststar envisioned for us.”
With a vicious snarl, Swiftstar leaped off the antlers of the moose and landed directly in front of the carver. “What? Do you not think I’m good enough to be his successor?!”
Ferretclaw suppressed a shiver. Though it had been moons before he was born, every cat knew that Swiftstar had desperately wanted to be Froststar’s mate. He had picked the lovely Spottedwish as his mate instead, the finest carver in the Clan.
In Swiftstar’s eyes, this was the biggest insult Froststar could have given to her. But when she had tried to make him see her reasoning, to make him understand Spottedwish couldn’t be his mate because he was Pure and she wasn’t, Froststar rebuked her harshly. A scar from the attack marred the she-cat’s once-pretty face.
After that, Swiftstar had settled with being his deputy instead, though many cats knew it wasn’t because she was the best suited.
It was a story Swiftstar hated and hunted down vehemently.
Fawnpelt didn’t back down from the leader’s ferocity. “I am saying that you are not doing him any justice with this. You are making a mockery of the vision Froststar had for this Clan.”
Swiftstar drew herself up until she was her full intimidating size. “Fine,” she spat, “since you think you know so much about Clan life, then fight me.”
Fawnpelt seemed startled, and Ferretclaw felt his heart stop. After a moment, the she-cat said, “Fight you? Me?”
“Yes.” Swiftstar’s eyes narrowed. “If you can beat me, I will hand my leadership over to you. You will become FrostClan’s leader and you can make the rules as you want.”
It was impossible odds. Swiftstar was known across the entire island for her brutal nature. If she lost a life, she would get back up and attack again with no care to her wounded state. Her moves were precise and vicious, leaving no room for mercy.
“Fine,” Fawnpelt said. Gasps spread across the cavern, but she raised her tail. “I will show you StarClan’s intention for us.”
Swiftstar attacked without another word. Her bite was aimed at Fawnpelt’s throat, but she ducked away and headbutted the leader. They grabbed onto each other with their forelegs, hissing and spitting, while their back claws furiously ripped at flesh and fur. Chunks of hair and splatters of blood turned the Heart of Ice, FrostClan’s camp, into a miniature battleground.
Ferretclaw could see the battle was going poorly for Fawnpelt – every blow she landed was met by two more from Swiftstar; every bite and scratch was returned with vicious intent. His heart ached and he longed to jump in to help, but something held him back. She has to do this on her own… no matter what happens.
Then, from above, there was a crack. Fawnpelt jumped away, but Swiftstar was intent on going for the kill. While the carver was on her back, the leader raced over and-
Was impaled.
An icicle, brutal and cold, had fallen from the top of the cavern and crashed into Swiftstar’s body. Blood and gore seeped from the ragged wound, and her eyes were blank and unseeing.
Silence filled the cavern. Cats stared at each other, unsure of what to do, until the Sage, FrostClan’s medicine cat, shambled forward. His eye sockets, filled with flowers in place of his eyes, were trained on Fawnpelt in his uncanny way of “seeing.”
“StarClan has proclaimed their choice,” the medicine cat said, his voice soft and unearthly. “Swiftstar has been killed by the ice of the Heart. Fawnpelt is our leader.”
Jaegertalon, the current deputy, approached Fawnpelt. “So be it,” he said softly, touching his nose to the new leader’s shoulder. “If this is what StarClan wants, then I will be glad to serve at your side.”
Fawnpelt became Fawnstar, the first and only Carver who became leader. When she returned with her nine lives, she introduced two rules to the Clan – Carvers, though ranking below Warriors, shall not be mistreated, and all apprentices will be taught how to carve ice before they become a warrior. This was to bring the Clan together so that they knew once and for all that FrostClan could not divide themselves into Warriors or Carvers – they must simply be FrostClan.
4. Those who wish to join FrostClan from outside the Clan must undergo the Snow Chants
Snowshade felt his pelt prickle as he stared at Quickstep. The she-cat wasn’t from FrostClan, and neither were Robinfoot or Hootwing. Yet Lemmingstar had let the three cats into the Clan to make up for the lack of kits born.
As if letting in a bunch of half-Clan brats would make us strong again. Snowshade shook his head. He knew their father was Feathersnap, but they had been raised in the forests for many seasons before they suspiciously decided to ask to join FrostClan.
The young tom always thought the cats were up to something, but Feathersnap was the deputy and refused to let anyone speak badly about his kits. How frustrating… With a huff, he got to his paws and marched over to a cluster of warriors. “Talonscar, Antlerfur, do you want to hunt with me?”
Talonscar perked up. “Yes! It’s been getting boring around here lately.” He laughed, his voice deep and throaty. “I thought my paws were gonna fall off from sitting around.”
“Especially when Feathersnap only sends his brats on the good patrols.” Antlerfur was far less enthusiastic, her muzzle wrinkled with annoyance. “And the rest of us have to hunt on the double since they don’t bring anything back.”
Snowshade nodded, secretly pleased the others felt the same. “Yeah, I know. I kind of wish they had to do the Snow Chants.” His eyes slid to the dark tunnel that led to the Den of the Ancients, their ancestral chamber that disloyal cats were brought to in order to reaffirm their loyalty to FrostClan.
“Fat chance.” Antlerfur snorted. “Feathersnap would never admit they’re disloyal, even when they’re lazy slobs.”
Talonscar laughed, leading the way into the hunting tunnels. “Come on, you two, let’s catch some prey and then we can insult them about their lack of skills.”
Hunting was good. The small patrol had caught a plump rabbit and a gull that had strayed too far from the water’s edge. It would feed several cats. Let’s see those three do better than that!
As they drew near the tunnels of camp, though, Antlerfur stopped. “Wait. Do you hear that?”
Snowshade paused, ears perked. Then he heard it. Are… are cats fighting?! Dropping his gull, he raced through the tunnels, his Clanmates at his back. When they entered the tunnel, they found a chaotic disaster, a whirling mass of bodies and claws.
“It’s MarshClan!” Antlerfur shrieked. “Those lousy half-Clan rats!”
Snowshade’s heart sunk as he lunged at the nearest MarshClan cat and ripped him away from an apprentice. They must have planned this all along! No wonder they joined FrostClan out of nowhere, They were infiltrating and learning how to navigate the tunnels in order to attack!
Limbs filling with energy pulled from his fury, Snowshade bit into the MarshClan cat’s scruff and shook him viciously. There was a snap and the cat went limp, his neck broken. Dropping the body, Snowshade looked around until he zeroed in on Hootwing, who was tussling with Snowshade’s former mentor, Darkfoot.
“You traitor!” Snowshade shrieked as he lunged for the she-cat. As he latched on to her tail and yanked her away from Darkfoot, the other tom raked his claws across her eyes. Hootwing screeched in pain but whipped her head around to face Snowshade.
“I was never a traitor,” the black she-cat snarled. “I was never loyal to FrostClan and I never will be!”
Before Snowshade could attack, Darkfoot’s claws tore into Hootwing’s throat. The tom was bristling, his amber eyes burning with hate. “Snowshade, get the others. Show them no mercy.”
Snowshade managed a nod before Darkfoot dashed back into the fray. He looked around, tugging tails and biting paws, until he saw Robinfoot and Quickstep attacking Lemmingstar together. Feathersnap was already lying in a puddle of blood. A furious shriek was ripped from Snowshade’s chest as he slammed into Quickstep.
They tumbled across the ice together for a moment before Snowshade dug his claws into Quickstep’s head and slammed it down on the ice dozens of times. She shrieked in fury and struggled fiercely, but the strength of Snowshade’s fury left her helpless.
“You killed your own father,” Snowshade spat in Quickstep’s face. “Do you have no decency? Has your heart melted from the heat of your StarClan-forsaken swamps?”
Quickstep wheezed in pain, but managed to say, “He was no father to me! I am a MarshClan cat!”
Snowshade snarled and slammed Quickstep’s head down hard. There was a crack and Quickstep gasped. Blood soaked the ice from where a rock had pierced the she-cat’s skull. With a huff, Snowshade dropped the body.
The sounds of the battle had retreated, and when Snowshade looked, he realized MarshClan was already retreating. FrostClan harried with remaining cats with sharp bites and slashes of their claws, filling the camp with blood and tufts of fur.
Once the sound of MarshClan’s pawsteps fell away, Snowshade wheezed and looked around. Only now could he feel the myriad of scratches and bites on his pelt. The cats around him were injured, but alive. I guess we only lost Feathersnap.
A feeling of sorrow welled up in Snowshade’s chest. I didn’t like him much… but the only thing he did wrong was loving his kits.
After the MarshClan attack, Darkfoot became the deputy. Once he was leader, he instituted a new rule – every cat, no matter how old, who were not born in FrostClan must undergo Snow Chanting. FrostClan could not trust those who were not intimately connected with their ancestors as they were.
5. Cats who flee from battle must have their backs scarred to show their cowardice
6. Cats who have more than five scars from fleeing must be killed
Darkstar glared at his Clan, feeling frustration well up inside of him. We would have won if they hadn’t run! His older warriors were strong and intelligent – they had to be, to survive the bitter tundra – but his younger warriors were cowards. They fled at the first injury, yowling as if their eyes had been torn out.
“Darkstar,” Foxscar called out. He was one of the senior warriors, confident and strong, and wouldn’t have retreated if Darkstar hadn’t ordered it.
“Yes?” Darkstar fixed his gaze on the tom.
Foxscar sent a scornful glance to a pair of nearby warriors, who shrank down. “I think we need to punish cats for fleeing. We would have won if they hadn’t turned tail like cowards.”
Ravendapple jumped to her paws. “But we were overwhelmed! There were too many!”
Bravefrost spoke up then. “We were stronger than them! We had enough cats to beat them until you and Gooseflight ran away!”
“You wanted them to die, then?!” Sandclaw shot to her paws, coming to stand beside her son, Gooseflight. “Darkstar, I know we are strong but we lose cats every moon!”
“And more are born every moon, Sandclaw!” Foxscar shot back. “Should we be lenient on them because they’re scared? No! We’ve lived this way for generations!”
“Death isn’t our only option!” Ravendapple interjected. “Why should we risk our lives over something so stupid as scent over the border?”
Darkstar couldn’t take it anymore. “Death before dishonor!” He shouted at the crowd, which caused many of the other cats to join in the chant. “We are not hares, hiding in our burrows! We are FrostClan! And we do not have time for cowards!”
“Will you exile every cat who won’t die because of your insufferable pride?!” Sandclaw demanded.
“If I have to, I will!”
“There is another way.” A small, simple voice called out. Immediately, everyone fell silent. The Sage appeared out of her den, her movements slow and methodical as she tried to make her way over. Her empty eye sockets had no decor today – not even the precious gemstones she usually wore when she appeared from her den.
“My Sage,” Darkstar said respectfully. “What do you mean? Have you seen something in your mind’s eye?”
“I have.” The Sage sat down, curling her black tail around her paws. “I saw it while touching the scars on my eyes. StarClan is disheartened by the lack of courage in our new warriors. However,” she looked up, directly at Darkstar despite her lack of eyes, “exile is not the way.”
“Then what do you think we shall do?” Darkstar asked, ignoring the gloating ha from Sandclaws.
The Sage nodded once. “Scar them.”
Sandclaw’s face froze at once, but Darkstar felt his ears perk in interest. “Scar them? We can’t risk impeding their abilities during battle.”
“No, so we shall scar their back.” The Sage held up a paw, slashing with her claws as if giving an example. “So every cat knows they are cowards who turned their back on their Clanmates and fled.”
Cats began murmuring to each other, giving wary glances to the Sage. Darkstar watched them for a moment before standing. “Cariboufur,” he called to his deputy, “what are your thoughts?”
The she-cat blinked thoughtfully. “It would certainly deter cats from fleeing, and we wouldn’t lose cats from exile.”
Darkstar glanced to the elders. “What do you say, wise ones?”
Mumblefang grunted. “It would fall in line with what we need.”
“But what would stop them from continuing to flee?” Talonscar asked. The old tom flicked a scarred ear. “Some cats would be content to scar themselves.”
“Then after two scars, they should die!” Dawnpool growled out, squinting to see with her almost-blind eyes. “That should be enough!”
“Only two? I don’t think so.” Sandclaw replied, her tail lashing. “Cats need more than two battles to know when to retreat!”
“Five, then,” Darkstar announced. “After five scars, the cat should be killed. I believe that is more than enough.” He kept a steady gaze on Sandclaw, but the she-cat only glared back and stayed silent.
Fine then. The leader swept a glance across his Clan. “Then so be it. These will be our two new rules.”
Ever since then, FrostClan cats have strived to keep themselves scar-free by never retreating. They became more courageous and more feared throughout the Clans, exactly as Darkstar wanted.
7. Once an apprentice is ready to become a warrior, they must undergo their final test: killing another predator and taking its skull as a symbol of their strength
Blackpaw stalked out of Stoatstar’s den, feeling his fur begin to bristle. Weak?! How dare he! Just because Blackpaw was smaller than his littermates, the leader wanted to keep him as an apprentice for two more moons.
But I’m already stronger than Sealclaw and Oxheart! Faster and smarter too. I’m just smaller. Blackpaw felt like he was going to explode from the unfairness of it all. He knew he was smaller than his littermates. His mentor, Ambereyes, reminded him of that constantly, and his parents rarely spared him a glance.
“I’ll show them,” the apprentice growled as he glanced around camp. Everyone was talking with his littermates, congratulating them on becoming warriors. The only one who wasn’t in the crowd was the Sage, who had his empty eyesockets trained on Blackpaw.
For a heartbeat, Blackpaw thought the Sage could see him. Don’t be stupid, he scolded himself, swallowing hard. He can’t see anything. He doesn’t have eyes.
In the back of his mind, Blackpaw suddenly saw the image of a snarling wolf. It was so real that it made his fur begin to bush up – he could smell its musky scent, feel its hot breath on its face. The Sage glanced away and the image faded from Blackpaw’s mind.
How… strange. Blackpaw blinked and shook his head, padding out of the camp. The tunnels stretched on ahead of him like a yawning black mouth. He started off walking, but it quickly turned into a fast trot. A feeling of urgency filled his bones and he continuously sped up until he was sprinting as hard as he could.
With a whoosh, Blackpaw realized he was now running across the tundra. But why? He wondered dimly. It was like he wasn’t in control of his own paws anymore.
The tundra was peaceful, with gentle snow falling. It clung to Blackpaw’s dark pelt and for a moment Blackpaw thought he saw someone running alongside him. When he squinted, though, it was just the snow.
As Blackpaw neared the edge of his territory, he had to stop or be impaled on an ice spike. Melted snow had gathered on a strangely-shaped stone, creating a pool of water, and the ice spike had grown out of it. He looked at it appreciatively for a long while. If only I were like Icestar, he thought, I could make these just by breathing. The thought of the Ancient soothed his rankled pride. He was still FrostClan, beloved by Icestar and his children, no matter how his Clan treated him.
A low growl split the peaceful silence of the air. Blackpaw’s heart froze as a wolf stepped from the snow, like a specter from his strange vision. Its eyes glowed with a vicious intelligence and every single one of its fangs were exposed.
I’m bite-sized for him! Blackpaw backed away, feeling his fur bristle once more. Why did I go out alone?! They won’t even come looking for me now.
As he spun and fled, Blackpaw thought he saw the ghostly form of a cat outlined by the snow. His eyes were calm and seemed to be saying come with me! Without thinking, Blackpaw darted towards the snow-cat.
The wolf barked once and raced after Blackpaw, its breath hot on his back. Several times it snapped at his tail, but he kept whisking it out of the way. It only seemed to infuriate the wolf even more if the ragged snarls were anything to go by.
Ahead, the ghostly snow-cat seemed to dart around at random. Blackpaw watched it sharply, trying to understand what it was telling him. He moved as it did, but it didn’t seem to help.
Wait! The realization struck him instantly. We’re going in circles!
As if to prove the apprentice’s point, the strange ice spike appeared from the snow again. I’m wasting energy!
“What do you want me to do?!” Blackpaw called to the cat desperately. “I can’t fight him on my own! Lead me home!” As they ran, the snow cat’s gaze landed on Blackpaw calmly. Its face was kind and reassuring like a mentor ought to be.
Blackpaw was losing energy quickly. He was faster, but the wolf had stamina like no animal he’d encountered before. What do I do? StarClan, do you want me to die?
In the haze of the snow, Blackpaw squinted and could see a black she-cat running. Nightflight! His mother was there to save him! But, as he drew nearer, he realized he could see right through this cat! Her eyes were yellow, not blue, and there was a nick in her ear.
“Who are you?” Blackpaw demanded. “What do you need?” The cat didn’t respond but suddenly rushed forward. She leaped and rolled as if crashing into an invisible enemy, and Blackpaw felt as if time slowed around him.
The mysterious cat leaped up and seemed to be flying suddenly. No, not flying! She’s just climbing! Blackpaw thought, staring in fascination. What was she trying to do? Then icicles seemed to appear under her paws and they crashed down, causing a spurt of blood to explode from below and dissipate before it hit the ground.
An idea suddenly flooded Blackpaw’s mind. Icicles! There are no trees around here but… He spun then, trying to find the snow-cat again. As if he’d never left, the snow-cat was running just ahead of him again!
“I understand now!” Blackpaw shouted. “Lead me back, please!” The snow-cat nodded once and started running. As if time resumed, the wolf snarled once more and tried to bite at Blackpaw. He leaped aside and urged himself to run faster. I’m almost there… I can do this!
Finally, just as Blackpaw thought his legs were gonna fall off, the ice spike came back into view. He slowed and crouched, feeling his heart pounding. If this didn’t work… he’d die.
The wolf wasn’t too far away, its eyes burning. Drool dripped from its mouth and its tongue danced in and out of its teeth like a red snake.
Wait. Blackpaw urged himself, feeling his body tremble. The timing had to be absolutely perfect. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the wolf drew closer, its musky odor and flashing teeth filling Blackpaw’s senses. Wait… wait… now!
Summoning all the strength he had left, Blackpaw sprang into the air. The wolf, unable to slow itself, skidded. The ice spike pierced into its throat, breaking off as the beast began to thrash. For an agonizing moment, Blackpaw thought the wolf would be okay and it could still attack him.
Then the wolf collapsed, its blood staining the snow pink. It watched Blackpaw, panting softly, its eyes losing the malevolent gleam. It now seemed noble, strong. Blackpaw felt a wave of sadness that this marvelous beast would be lost.
The image of the black she-cat appeared again, but this time she was sitting next to the skull of a wolf. She looked every bit as noble and fierce as the wolf.
The skull. Blackpaw turned to the wolf, which had already slipped into death. He walked over and began nipping at the soft flesh. He had to get the skin and fur off before the body froze…
When Blackpaw returned with his grisly prize and told the Clan of what had transpired, Stoatstar had no choice but to make Blackpaw a warrior. Newly named Blackskull, the tom suggested that other apprentices do this to show their worth. While some did, it wasn’t until Blackstar became leader that he introduced the rule to the Code.
8. When an apprentice is three moons into training, they must enter the Maze and escape – if they fail, their faces will be scarred and they will enter the Maze again, repeating until they succeed
Sharptalon dug his claws into the soft snow, watching Owlpaw stumble out of the tunnels with wide, blinking eyes. His apprentice had failed to find her way through the tunnels for moons and it was preventing her from becoming a warrior. She was almost three moons past her time, and her littermates had already been named warriors.
This is my fault. Sharptalon sighed as he stood. “Come on, Owlpaw. Let’s try again.”
The she-cat kicked at a snowdrift. “… yeah, whatever.” Her voice was so full of disappointment that it broke Sharptalon’s heart.
“Hey,” the tom touched his apprentice’s ear with his nose. “We’ll get there. It just takes time.”
Owlpaw didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue, either. Sharptalon sighed inwardly as he led the she-cat through the tunnels once more, using his tail to guide her when she closed her eyes.
Traditionally, apprentices were trained in how to navigate the tunnels before anything else. However, Owlpaw was Sharptalon’s first apprentice and he was desperate to prove himself to his senior warriors. Especially his former mentor, Snowdust, who had been so callous and cold in training him.
Sharptalon had skipped the tunnel training and moved straight into hunting and fighting, thinking nothing of it. He assumed that it would be no harder to teach Owlpaw how to navigate when she was older. Yet for some reason, she just couldn’t grasp the concept and required him to lead her around like she was still a kit.
As they reached one of the more complex areas of the tunnels, Sharptalon paused. “Alright. Let’s try this differently. You go ahead and I’ll follow you out.”
Owlpaw paused. “But I can’t follow your scent that way.”
Suppressing a sigh, Sharptalon flicked his tail. “I know. That’s the point. The ice and snow will usually hide your scent. You need to memorize the tunnel layouts.”
Owlpaw eyed her mentor with a look of distaste but turned and stalked down the tunnel anyways.
Within four turns, Owlpaw was hopelessly lost. Sharptalon sighed as he took the lead. “It’s alright.” He murmured. “You’ll learn in time.”
Owlpaw growled in frustration. “You’ve been saying that forever now! Tell me when it actually will come true? Fleetstar is gonna make me a Carver at this rate.”
Sharptalon resisted telling Owlpaw that Carvers knew the tunnels better than anyone else, but placed his tail on his apprentice’s shoulder. “Just be a little more patient.”
Owlpaw was silent for a long while before she finally blurted out, “Runningblossom is having kits soon.”
Sharptalon held back a sigh. Runningblossom and Owlpaw were littermates, but they were locked in eternal rivalry. He knew every piece of gossip surrounding the pair – Runningblossom only took Bouldercrash because Owlpaw liked him, Owlpaw gave Runningblossom the vicious scar that ran down her face, everything.
With a deep breath, Sharptalon flicked his tail. “Just forget about it…”
Later that night, Sharptalon gnawed on a caribou femur. A hunting party had come across the freshly killed beast, only half-eaten by what was probably a lone wolf. The caribou was more than enough to feed the Clan, so most of the prey was saved for tomorrow.
With a belly full of warm meat, Sharptalon began carving the bone with his sharp teeth, not really thinking of a particular story. He was laying with his brother, Redfur, who was a Carver.
“You should be more gentle.” Redfur murmured, glancing up from the rabbit spine he was carving. “That caribou deserved better than that.”
Sharptalon sighed and pushed the half-carved bone to Redfur. “Take it then. I’m just stressed out about Owlpaw. She’s pushing herself harder and harder every day. I just don’t know how to teach her.”
“I wouldn’t say you had the greatest teacher yourself,” Redfur mumbled around the bone he was gnawing. “You were lucky. Naturally talented enough to memorize the tunnels without proper instruction.”
“You know them better than I do though.” Sharptalon sighed as he began to groom his brother’s fur.
“That’s because I have to.” Redfur purred. He paused suddenly. “You know, I think I have an idea.”
“Hm?” Sharptalon was only half-listening, trying to work bone shards from his brother’s fur.
Redfur shook his pelt out. “Hey, I’m serious. Listen to me. I think I know a solution.”
Sharptalon blinked. “A solution to Owlpaw? I’m all ears.”
“I thought you were all fur,” Redfur laughed. “But I’ll have to ask Shadefur and Beetleflame first.”
Sharptalon’s ear twitched. “Shadefur? Why do you have to ask the deputy?”
Redfur looked at his brother seriously. “Have you ever wondered how Carvers learn to navigate the tunnels so well?”
“Are you sure this’ll work?” Sharptalon watched, his tail twitching, as Beetleflame led Owlpaw and Jaggedpaw, one of the newest carving apprentices, into the yawning tunnel entrance.
“The Maze is perfect for apprentices,” Redfur promised. “Every Carver has to make it through at least once. If they don’t…” The pale ginger tom glanced at a nearby Carver, Sandyscar. “Well, you’ve seen his face.”
“I know, I know. The scarring.” That’s what scarred Sharptalon the most. Owlpaw was diligent in maintaining her appearance, always afraid her sister would pull ahead. If her face was given the mutilating deep scar that Sandyscar was named for, it wouldn’t go well. Especially because she’d get one every time she failed.
Shadefur and Fleetstar had been adamant about the fact that, if Owlpaw was to undergo the training of the Carvers, she would have to face the consequences if she couldn’t manage it.
Redfur put a paw on his brother’s shoulder. “Hey. It’ll be alright. Beetleflame has been training her nonstop.”
Sharptalon took a deep breath. “I know. Owlpaw has worked hard. I just hope it works.”
“It will,” Redfur promised. “Just be patient.”
So the pair waited, eyes trained on the tunnel’s mouth, for the entire day. The night had long since arrived and there was no sign of movement.
Then a flicker of movement at the tunnel made Sharptalon jump to his paws. However, it was just Jaggedpaw. He walked out, blinking in the light, and his mother rushed over to him to shower him in licks and praise.
Taking a deep breath, Sharptalon sat back down. “It’s alright,” Redfur murmured. “She’s just taking her time.”
So the pair waited in silence, only eating when their sister, Mottledlight, brought them some mice. The day crept on agonizingly slow. When the time drew near, Sharptalon felt himself digging his claws into the ice. Come on, Owlpaw. Your time is almost up…
Just before the fall of the sun, which would mark a full day, Owlpaw suddenly burst from the tunnels.
Sharptalon was beside his apprentice in an instant, inspecting her for injuries. Her claw was torn, but otherwise, she seemed fine. More than fine, in fact. Her eyes were shining.
“I did it!” Owlpaw gasped. “I remembered! The tunnels, I remembered how to solve it!”
Sharptalon purred. “You’ll be a warrior now!”
As he turned to talk to Fleetstar, Sharptalon thought to himself, It’s a shame the other apprentices aren’t taught like this. Beetleflame accomplished in four days what I couldn’t in four moons. Perhaps he would talk to Fleetstar about it…
Sharptalon was unsuccessful in convincing his leader to rely on the Carver’s Maze. However, he was a strong and beloved warrior. He rose the ranks quickly and became the leader of FrostClan. He never forgot how the Carvers helped Owlmask become a warrior, and thus he introduced a new rule: all apprentices, no matter warrior or carver, were to accomplish the Trial of the Maze after three moons of training. It was a brilliant move – apprentices who would normally spend moons learning alongside their training would learn quickly in a week, leaving more time for fighting and hunting.
Pounceshade’s Farewell
“Well, that’s all the stories I know. Sure, there were other rules that leaders wanted to add. Silly things like ‘no cats from outside could become warriors’ or ‘FrostClan can only eat freshkill.’ Thankfully, the Clan never allowed those to pass.
Of course, we can’t forget our medicine cat. They have their own rules, you know. Like gouging out their eyes and only being known as ‘the Sage.’ Oh, did that make you squeamish? Really? I think it’s time for you to go then. I only know more gory stories!
Speaking of, I hear Viperstar calling for you. I don’t think you want to keep her waiting! Farewell, little one.”