War - Battles of the Wild - The Darkened Moon

CHAPTER ONE: GRIFFARA

The cries of battle rang out through the rocky canyon walls surrounding the clashing animals on the grass, shrieking, bodies colliding, steel on steel.

As I looked out over my army, my Clan in this fight, I found it hard to believe that a small suspicion evolved into this. This cacophony... waste of time, space and life. A massacre.

I plunged back into the fray. I won't describe what happened, but it was terrifying. Would I live? Would I die? I didn't know at that time...

Eventually the enemy retreated, swearing revenge, but a massive cheer went up from my Warriors. Tomorrow we may have to deal with Swift Clan, but today we would-

"Hey Griffa!" someone shouted, startling me,

"OJ is gonna be a Warrior today, remember?"

"Oh right," I replied to the Labrador sized, white feline with black markings, "Thanks for reminding me Zamboni."

"No prob," he replied with a smile.

"But you kind of ruined the Leader's Journal I was reading, about Pridestep and his battle with Swift Clan."

"Pridestep... Is he the reddish dog guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

"Yeah that's him! Glad you remembered."

Zamboni laughed, then stopped abruptly.

"Uh, I got this food I left unattended... Gotta go!"

"Bye Zamboni!" I yelled as he rushed out the entrance of my den.

Wondering how a cat got such a weird name? Well, he is nicknamed after the type of weapon he uses. It looks kind of like a shield, but it attaches to his shoulders and it hangs about one inch off the ground in front of him. It also has a lot of spikes on the front of it. One day someone made a comment about his weapon, saying it reminded her of a zamboni, a machine created by humans that cleans ice or something, at least according to her. I don't know if those things really exist. I've never seen one. Or a human. But the books from the library say they're real, and they're usually right, which surprises me.

With a sigh, I closed the Leader's Journal and set it on a small bookshelf, put on my ceremonial crown, and stepped outside, spreading my wings in the sun, the warmth flowing through my entire body. Just in case you were wondering, I'm a griffon. I'm the Leader of a Clan of animals with armour and weapons that are trained for battle. My Clan is the same one that is from the Great Rebellion, and although all the original members are dead, the spirit is still alive. And I am probably late for something very important.

I quickly made my way to the centre of the clan core, my black crown glinting in the daylight. It also had two shining orbs attached to it, one red and one blue, that were said to be good luck charms, and that a ceremony would only work if the animal that was directing it was wearing them.

My clan, Power Clan, gathered around on the grass of the camp core.

"The ceremony of OJ as we so lovingly call him, will begin shortly," I announced, "If there is anyone you could gather, bring them here in about... ten minutes."

Quickdart, a female brown and ginger tabby with dark grey eyes, made her way through the crowd to me.

"Hi!" I said to her. Quickdart and I were very good friends. I trusted her, and would have made her a higher rank, but Frozenfire and the others thought about the consequences of their actions more than Quickdart did, so for now she is only my Sixth.

"Hey," she replied, "My apprentice, Crookedclaw, says she is ready to be branded and become a Warrior... What do you think?"

Crookedclaw was a determined young she-cat, and I knew she would be ready protect her clan, whatever the cost.

"I think this will be a double ceremony," I replied with a smile.

Quickdart thanked me and rushed back to Crookedclaw, and she gave the news to the apprentice. The young feline's eyes lit up, and she looked back at me with a huge grin.

"There has been a change of plans," I announced, "Today Crookedclaw will also be graduating to the rank of Warrior!"

The crowd whispered amongst themselves as the last creatures arrived at the clan core to watch the ceremony. Even the kits and pups attend these ceremonies, because it helps them decide if they want to be a Warrior too when they grow up.

Coal, a winged Border Collie who is the younger of the two Blacksmiths of our clan, came out of his forge with a branding stick in his jaws, being careful to keep the red-hot end far away from his face.

"OJ and Crookedclaw, please step forward," I told them.

The orange tabby and blue-gray walked into the circle that was cleared for them by the other animals.

Coal silently approached OJ and aimed the end of the metal stick at his right shoulder.

OJ tensed, his tail flicking wildly this way and that, as he quickly glanced at his friends in the crowd. Then the hot iron met his skin.

The young tabby hissed, sucking in air through his teeth, his sharp claws digging into the ground. I could tell he was trying his best not to yowl, and jump away in pain... His fur started to smoke, and Coal took the stick off quickly.

OJ made a soft sighing sound and fell to the ground. The crowd cheered for him, stomping their feet and shouting, making OJ smile despite the pain I knew was pricking his shoulder like knives.

He turned his head to look at the symbol now permanently burned into his flesh. I saw him look at it in awe, as many apprentices had before him. There was something about having that mark, like 'yeah, I did that', that feeling of power. It signified him as an official Warrior of the clan.

"OJ," I said smiling, "You are now a Warrior of Power Clan. Congratulations!"

This made the animals cheer again. OJ slowly stood up and limped his way back into the crowd, but I could see him grinning. His friends that weren't Warriors yet pushed and shoved to get a look at his branded shoulder, saying things like 'cool!' and whatever else kids say to guys that just got a piece of burning hot metal jabbed into them.

Coal retreated into his den to clean off the branding stick, and Coppertooth stepped forward in preparation to brand Crookedclaw.

That's when the woods seemed to bloom with eyes, the leaves turned to metal and fur, and the shadows grew claws.

"Attackers!" I screamed, "Warriors, armour up! Get the Clanmates and children back to their dens!"

I turned to face the enemies, fanning my wings and shrieking a hawk-like cry. Then I charged.