Sorry for the wait, let me apologize

Sorry for the wait, let me apologize. My computer was broken.

Mosseyes: Yup, everyone love Nightkit! Um, I’m not in love with BoarClan, if you don’t mind. Sorry ‘bout that.

Queen B. of Randomness: Does this constitute as soon? Anyway, Olivebranch is a brilliant idea. Thanks!

CSIvHP11: Sorry, Olivebranch won hands down. And I don’t think the cats know about Scotland. Still, thanks for the review!

Smart Aleckette: I’m afraid I didn’t end up using any of yours, but the Clan names put me on the right track.

TheLadyAthena: Herbhouse and Cashden are great ideas, even if I didn’t use your Clan names.

Brianna: I like your names, but I like others more. Sorry! But thanks for reviewing.

I chose the current name for Hogwarts because I got a great idea for Quidditch. Olivebranch is the Ollivander winner and I’ll go for Cashden as Gringotts. Flourish and Blots is Barkpile. The Hermione/ Ginny name contest is still open, with Hermione having four votes for Leafpaw, one vote for Mousepaw, and one vote for Maplepaw. Ginny has three votes for Autumnpaw, one vote for Brightpaw, and one vote for Applepaw.

Applepaw and Maplepaw were courtesy of Queen B, but you can vote for them if you want to.

There’s still time to cast your vote! IF YOU HAVEN’T VOTED YET (I’ll be checking to make sure you don’t vote twice) then vote for one Hermione and one Ginny.

Whoa. Big authors note.

Nightkit cracked open the acorn and pulled out a scroll of birch bark. By deciphering the symbols, he read:

Nightkit Clayfur, you have been apprenticed to ShoreClan. You are expected to arrive at the island via the Hollowtree on the first day of Greenleaf. Pets are allowed, as long as they are only insects or specially bred mice/sparrows. Apprentices are held responsible for any pet becoming a meal.

Silverstar, Clan Leader

“What?!” he exclaimed. “Why would someone bring a mouse or sparrow? And what did they mean about meals?”

“Well,” said Badgerstripe patiently, “The kitchen squirrels aren’t picky about what goes into the meals.”

“Gross,” muttered Tubbykit with a shudder.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” snapped Badgerstripe, extending a claw gently. Tubbykit screamed loud enough to pierce Nightkit’s eardrums and scampered away.

“Anyway, I brought you a gift for your sixth moon.” Badgerstripe pulled a battered looking and somewhat smelly mouse out of his fur. Nightkit wondered where he kept everything in there.

“Go on, try it,” encouraged Badgerstripe.

Nightkit looked at the mouse. Him? Eat a dead animal? Then he looked at a small bark sack of ground rat tail and horseradish that Bristlyface had brought to eat. Even a dead mouse had to taste better than that!

Nightkit took a tiny bite. The mouse was warm and somewhat squishy, to his disgust. He wanted to back away, but Badgerstripe was watching him proudly. He took another nibble and suddenly reached a soft part where the flesh ripped away in strips that nourished his taste buds. He could taste hints of herbs in there too, but mostly just the warm fresh feeling of being alive, free-

Nightkit jerked his mind back to the present. Badgerstripe was still watching him.

“That tasted really great, Badgerstripe,” he said weakly.

“I know,” said Badgerstripe with a wink. “Anyway,” he continued, “We have to go to Elm Path now. To get your hunting and fighting manuals and your herb guides, and stuff like that. Tooodledoo!” he added, waving at Bristlyface and Petuniapelt, who stared at him with frightened eyes.

Nightpaw collapsed, exhausted, at the long hollow tree. He and Badgerstripe had swum through the sparkling waves around the island, dashed through the moonlight-dappled forest, crossed a churning white river via a slippery tree branch, and finally come to this part of the forest.

And what a strange place it was! A sign proclaiming, “TradeClan” was nailed to a tree with thorns. Each tree had cats balanced in it, along with bracken baskets piled high with leaves, berries, stones, and sticks. Other cats climbed up into the branches and began trading for the items.

“A bustling metra-watchamacallit,” said Badgerstripe knowingly.

“Metropolis,” said Nightkit absently. He was still watching cats coming and going, buying and selling.

“This isn’t where we’ll get your stuff though,” Badgerstripe explained. “This is a kittypet market. Now follow me.”

Badgerstripe stepping onto the hollow tree and began running his paws over it. Finally, he reached an area where the wood was reddish colored instead of tan.

Looking around surreptitiously to make sure no one was watching, Badgerstripe reached a paw into his mouth and pulled a little black cap off one of his teeth. Badgerstripe stuck the cap onto his claw, stood back, and raked his claws across the wood.

Nightkit winced. The wind-polished wood was beautiful in a haunting way. He averted his eyes, not wanting to see the smooth grain penetrated.

Nightkit heard a click. He turned at the sound and saw Badgerstripe standing back. A strip of wood hung off the tree, revealing a small hole about the size of a full-grown cat. Now he understood. Clawing the tree trunk unlocked the door.

Badgerstripe leapt into the hole, and Nightkit followed. The interior of the tree was not damp and musty, as he might have expected, but smooth and cool to the touch, like a stone in the shade on a hot day in Greenleaf.

The tree trunk also felt as if it was incredibly long. Nightkit was sure that they had been walking longer than they should have been, given the length of the log, but he didn’t want to mention it.

Suddenly, Badgerstripe’s shoulders shifted, and Nightkit could see light. Emerging from the log, he saw that the sun was rising. The gloomy clouds that had shadowed the island had given way to light puffs that were saturated in the orange light suffusing the horizon.

“It’s beautiful!” Nightkit breathed. He wished that he could capture the majesty of the moment forever, wished that he could see this sight whenever he closed his eyes.

“Come along!” called Badgerstripe.

Nightpaw turned and saw that they had emerged from the long tunnel beneath the tree trunk into a crowded clearing. Like in the kittypet market, this place was full of cats hawking their wares from trees, but that was where the similarities ended. While the kittypet market had contained only dull drab plant matter, the goods here were bright red or blue stones stones, huge purplish blue flowers, painfully green leaves, vials of liquid that sparkled n every color of the rainbow, sparrows with their feathers died different colors, squeaking brown mice, jewel-colored butterflies, and tiny emerald frogs.

“Wow,” said Nightkit, awed.

“No time to stop!” called Badgerstripe. “We have to get your money!”

“What?” asked Nightkit, hurrying so that he could catch up with the bigger cat.

“Your money! The things here aren’t free. You have to pay for them.”

“With what?”

“Stones are the usual currency. There’re the big yellow ones, or Dandelions, the green pebbles, also known as Clovers, and the tiny purple ones, which we call- Ah, here we are!”

Badgerstripe had stopped at a low cave. Now that Nightkit looked around, he realized that not all of the merchandise was being sold from the treetops. Some businesses were in bushes, rock piles, the tree trunks themselves, or caves.

A wizened fox stood at the entrance to the cave. As Badgerstripe passed, he nodded in a friendly way.

“Who was that?” Nightkit whispered.

“One of the Cashden foxes,” Badgerstripe replied. “They guard the place. If anyone unauthorized tried to steal from there…” Badgerstripe shuddered. “Well, let’s just say that they have teeth and claws sharper than any cat’s”

They had now entered the cave. Badgerstripe marched over to a fox sitting behind a desk.

“I’m here to enter the vaults of Nightkit Clayfur and Silverstar Bumblebee,” Badgerstripe said officiously.

The fox got to his paws and set off down a passageway in the side of the cave, beckoning them to follow. Nightkit exchanged a glance with Badgerstripe and moved after him.

The passage led to an underground stream of cool, fresh water. A small wooden raft floated by. The fox caught it easily with a single claw and motioned for Nightkit and Badgerstripe to get on. They did so and the fox jumped on after them.

At first, the little craft merely drifted slowly with the current, giving Nightkit a great view of the salt-rock formations on the ceiling. But as the water caught hold of the raft, it moved faster, until the stalactites blurred into a pointed stream speckled with greenish lichen. By the time, the fox flung out a paw to stop the raft, Nightkit was dizzy from trying to focus.

Nightkit stumbled off the raft and watched silently as the fox pushed aside a boulder with strength only an animal of his size could use. As the fox moved aside, Nightkit realized that there was another cave behind the boulder. How big is this place? He wondered. Streams in passageways behind caves with more caves coming out from them…

Then he realized that the cave was almost filled with shining stones. Bright yellow rocks, each the size of one of his paws, were heaped in corners. Piles of glittering green gems reached nearly to the top of the cavern. Little purple pebbles rolled underpaw.

Nightkit didn’t know what to say. Um, Wow? It was very impressive. Shiny! The kit side of him wanted to squeal and jump into the riches with all his might.

What ended up coming out of his mouth was “Awoomphala!”

Badgerstripe stared at him, and Nightpaw felt the beginnings of a blush start to creep under his fur. “I mean, it’s great. It really is. Wonderful. Incredible. Beautiful.”

Badgerstripe nodded. “You’d better fill up a bag to carry some home. You can hang it around your neck.” The fox pulled a bark sack off a hook on the wall and handed it to him. Nightkit began pushing stones in with his paws.

“Now, let’s get to the Silverstar vault,” suggested Badgerstripe.

#

For the vault of a Clan leader, Silverstar’s cave of treasures was remarkably bare. There was only one heap of stones. Instantly, Badgerstripe padded over to it and began picking through it as if to find a certain rock. Ridiculous, of course. Badgerstripe himself had explained on the journey over that the yellow “Dandelions” were worth three green “Clovers” and that five purple “Lilacs” made up a Clover. And each Lilac was just like another. Nothing different between them. So what was Badgerstripe looking for? Nightkit tried to see, but Badgerstripe’s huge mass of black-and-white fur got in the way. But as the bigger cat turned around, a rip in the recently filled sack caught his gaze. Among the yellow Dandelions, he thought he caught a glimpse of an ordinary dark stone, but of strange proportions: flat-sided and rough. Nightkit resisted the urge to rake his claws across it. Something told him he didn’t want Badgerstripe to know he had seen the stone, even if it was only a pebble from the original cave.

The raft ride out of the tunnels was uneventful, until Nightkit thought he caught a glimpse of a tawny wing fluttering among the lichen and stone. “What was that?” He gasped.

“Eagle, I suppose. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Nightkit hesitated. From what he’d seen, the bird had just looked threatening and dangerous. And huge. And hungry. But now that he thought about it, the luster of the birds’ feathers was alluring. Nightkit still wouldn’t want one as a pet, but it was lovely, in a strange way.

“Yeah,” he said.

Out in the sunlight, Nightkit realized that they must have been down in Cashden for longer than he had thought. The sun had risen, replacing pink glow with cloudless blue skies and the bright, blazing star of the sun.

“Hello, Badgerstripe,” said a voice. Nightkit turned to see a scrawny ginger tom speaking to Badgerstripe.

“Hiya, Squirrelheart,” replied the black and white tom. “What are you doing here?”

“Just getting some mallow leaf,” muttered Squirrelheart. He glanced at Nightkit. “And who is your new companion?”

“His name’s Nightkit-“

“Nightkit!” Squirrelheart’s expressions was unreadable. It seemed to be somewhere in between joy, apprehension, and amazement. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am one of your mentors at ShoreClan.”

“Oh,” began Nightkit, not sure of what to say. But before he could try to continue on, a loud scream was heard. A bluish-gray she-cat with large ears raced over to him.

“Nightkit? Are you Nightkit? OMSC! I’m Nightingalepaw and I’m a huge fan of you, and how you defeated You-Know-Who! You’re so totally awesome!”

Almost before she had finished this breathless statement, another she-cat, this one with brown fur, began a similar declaration. “And you’re so brave and awesome and like cool like that and-“

“Go away,” growled Badgerstripe menacingly. He picked Nightingalepaw up by the scruff of her neck and placed her none to gently a few feet away. Then he proceeded to grab Nightkit in his massive jaws and bear him away through the crowd.

“What did she mean, about me being famous?” asked Nightpaw once Badgerstripe had set him down. “And who is You-Know-Who, anyway?”

Badgerstripe sighed. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to explain this to you, you being so young, but I guess there’s no helping it now. Sit down Nightkit, I’ve got a story to tell you.”

Nightkit stared at Badgerstripe in astonishment.

“So you’re saying that I’m famous.”

Badgerstripe nodded.

“And that I defeated this Mold person.”

Another nod.

“And that Mold killed my parents.”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

“Well, it might be hard to get used to, but I’m sure that after a while-“

“And those creepy fangedgirls-“

“-Fangirls-“

“-Will be stalking me for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah.”

Nightkit screamed so loud that several other cats looked at him in irritation.

“Shh, it’s okay,” whispered Badgerstripe, patting him on the shoulder. “Here, let’s go get your things,” he added louder. “You’ll need them at ShoreClan.”

(((((((((())))))))))

By sunhigh, Nightkit had traded in almost hyes his rocks for things that Badgerstripe had said he would need. He now was the proud owner of a sheaf of birchbark paper (for doodling and taking notes on hunting technique or the history of the Clans), a large flat gingko leaf (for mixing herbs and berries), and a ball of mouse grease (for shining his fur).

“Now you just need claws,” Badgerstripe said happily.

“Claws?”

“Yep. To stick over your real ones. Without them, you can’t fight or hunt. Now, we’ll be going to Olivebranch for those.”

“Olivebranch?”

“Stop repeating everything I say!” joked Badgerstripe. “Olivebranch makes the best claws you can buy. Most use wood or stone, but Olivebranch makes them out of hard stuff, metal he calls it.”

“Oh,” said Nightkit. He wished he didn’t feel so overwhelmed. The world of warriors was so big, so confusing, so unknown.

They had arrived at a hollow tree trunk. Above, someone was selling juniper berries. The hole in the wood was so intimidating that Nightkit wished he could be up there, bartering for herbs. But Badgerstripe had assured him that there would be enough already there at ShoreClan for him to use.

The den in the tree trunk was dark and almost frightening. Nightkit was about to curl up on the floor when a voice called, “Who comes there?”

Nightkit cried out and jumped up in the air, landing with a sharp thud on the ground. He turned around to see a light brown cat with strangely pale eyes watching him. He swallowed audibly.

“Nightkit.” The cat’s voice was low and mysterious, and his creepy eyes were fixed uncomfortably on Nightkit, who shivered.

“I assume you want claws, right?”

Nightpaw shrugged. He didn’t want to speak in the presence of this cat.

“There are three types of claws, generally,” began Olivebranch, obviously giving up on a response from Nightkit. “There is steel, copper, and iron. Now, looking at you, I get the sense that you are a copper. You’re confident, I believe, and determined. Like your father. Darkflame had copper claws, though in the end they did little for him.”

Nightkit wished this cat would just be quiet. He didn’t need to hear him taunting his parents.

“Lilypetal, on the other hand, had steel claws. Sharp and unforgiving, but also sensitive and kind.”

Olivebranch circled Nightkit. “But enough about them. Let me see what kind of claws you will need.”

The brown cat pulled out a lump of clay. “Stick your claw in here,” he ordered. Hesitantly, Nightkit obeyed, feeling the cool stickiness saturate his paw. He held back a shudder.

Instantly, Olivebranch got to work. He began to smooth clay around the claw until the excess was gone, leaving only a long claw-shaped protuberance. Then he slid it off and began comparing it to a couple bronze-colored claws hanging from the wall.

“Here try this.” Olivebranch passed him a beaten copper claw that looked rather rusty. Nightkit squeezed his claw in.

“Now claw this piece of wood.”

Nightkit glanced at the piece of bark, shrugged, and raked with claws across it. However, his efforts did no more than scratch the surface.

“Obviously not the right pair. Maybe I was wrong about the copper assumption. Try this iron pair.”

These claws fit fine, but they were far too heavy. Olivebranch snatched them away almost before Nightkit had tried them on.

“Ahah!”

Nightkit twisted around to see Olivebranch holding a gleaming copper claw. It was the classical orange color, but it looked red, yellow, and green where the light caught the tiny hammered facets. Nightkit’s heart skipped a beat.

Olivebranch laid it carefully on the ground. Nightpaw slid a claw in and a fierce feeling overcame him. He lashed out a paw so fast that he heard the wind whistle past.

Olivebranch and Badgerstripe stared in shock at the wood. The deep scratch in the wood had cut through to the other side.

Longest chapter I’ve ever written (12 pages in Microsoft word and more than 3,000 words). Now, many words deserve many reviews, so go click that button in the corner.

Just so you know, the last names don’t really matter much. I just did it to make things sound more official. ClayPotteryPotter, and DumbleBumbleBumblebee.

Now vote for a Hermione name and a Ginny name! Also, if any of you are registered betareaders and would like to beta this story, say so in a reviews.