Warriors: Northstar

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Fawnpaw

Three odd things happened the morning before the day everything changed.

The first odd thing was a conversation Fawnpaw had overheard.

She didn't mean to snoop—it's not like she went around trying to eavesdrop on other cats. In fact, she had just been out hunting that day—trying to catch a squirrel or something.

It hadn't seemed too unusual to her, really. It never occurred to her that there were cats in the Clan who didn't like Cliffstar. Never occurred to her that her Clan was writhing with traitors.

In fact, the conversation itself hadn't seemed that sinister. and Wildmoon had been talking in hushed voices. It was weird, sure—but not sinister.

"How's everything coming along?" Wildmoon had whispered, leaning toward Finchwing, Fawnpaw's mentor.

Finchwing had flinched, then lifted his head as looking around for listeners. Thankfully, he didn't see Fawnpaw. She'd been watching from behind the two cats then.

"As it should," Finchwing finally whispered back. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"I just met with Glasslake—she's dropping out of the plan."

A moment of silence.

"Aren't you worried?" Wildmoon finally asked.

"No. But it does change things. I'll have to look into it."

"You do know you always say that before..."

"Just another part of the plan. If we want this to run smoothly, we will have to take some pieces out. Expendable pieces."

Fawnpaw hadn't thought much of the conversation then. Thought it was just boring warrior stuff she couldn't understand. She knew who Glasslake was—a warrior in IceClan. But she didn't put much thought into it. Heck, there could be numerous reasons for any of that.

What she didn't know though, was that less than a day after that conversation—Glasslake was found dead by the stream.

That was the second odd thing by the way.

"Do you want to go to the gathering tonight?" Finchwing asked Fawnpaw that same day. "You've been doing well in our sessions. I think I can convince Cliffstar if you want. Along with all the other apprentices."

A full moon shone in the sky, and the stars were icy and bright—illuminating the hillside in a deep violet light. The camp was nestled safely in a small valley near the cliffs of the mountains—nice and snug with ferns and thickets to guard them against predators. Darkness was starting to seep into the hills, making the dawn fade into shadows.

"Really?" Fawnpaw blinked. "You mean it?"

"Of course," her mentor told her, offering half a smile. "Go enjoy yourself tonight."

"You really can convince Cliffstar to let me go?"

"Why not?" Finchwing shrugged.

Excitement churned in Fawnpaw's stomach. She didn't know if she could love her mentor more than she did at that moment.

Finchwing smiled and then left to talk to Cliffstar. It had all seemed so great. She should have known something was up.

"Tonight's my first gathering!" Fawnpaw meowed, romping to her adoptive mother, Skyleaf.

"That's great!" Skyleaf purred, though there was a hint of worry in her eyes, and her pelt was a bit prickled as if she knew something bad was coming.

Really, Fawnpaw should have been watching for the signs—the signs every cat showed. If she saw it earlier she might have been able to prepare for the disaster they were all silently waiting for. Instead, she had been too excited and oblivious to notice anything.