![]() A dazzling, bright reflection of this wonderful life dances across the awakening lake, filling it with beauty and light. Sunlight filters through the leafy sky, and the leaves all the way up in those tall, ancient trees seem to glow. I can live life today, be the best cat I can be, and prove myself worthy of being chosen a Gifted. Newleaf fills me with confidence and hope. I let myself be carried into the moment, forget all my worries and let go of the hard times in life for a minute. The bright songs of the birds echo through the leafy canopy above. The grassy floor of the land tickles my feet, and a sudden strong wind tugs at my fur. The air is fresh and sweet, and it smells of blossoms and newleaf and lively, plump prey. The sun stretches my shadow as tall as the ancient oaks of the forest. I turn away from the den, and feel a breeze ruffle my fur. I wish that the squirrel was in my mouth, and not Birdstar's. "Here you go," I nudge the squirrel towards my leader, who picks it up and chews it slowly. My mouth waters and I will my stomach not to growl. The meaty aroma rises up to my nose, and I inhale the delicious scent. His deep, honey-colored eyes gaze warmly at me, then focus on the squirrel I'm carrying. Leaders eat first.īirdstar lifts his head lazily. I feel the urge to sink my teeth into the juicy, succulent flesh of the squirrel. I drag it out of the pile and pad up the craggy slope leading to Birdstar's den. I pad heavily over to the fresh-kill pile, and root through it until I find a plump, juicy squirrel. I drag myself out of the bed of moss, and let the warm rays of light touch my sleek pelt. I love you so much, why would anyone ever want to escape you to face the morning sunlight? Oh well, I have no choice. Then, I can do whatever I want, maybe even be a leader someday. I cannot wait for the day when I'm chosen as a Gifted. My family, friends and Clanmates don't overlook the fact that everyone in the Clan admires my honor, courage, loyalty and strength. They also eat last and aren't permitted to ever become leader, deputy or medicine cat. The Typicals do all the work hunting, building dens, clearing out bedding and checking elders for ticks. Some weird ancestor things that kept the Clans together disappeared long ago, so we don't follow any code now either.Įvery time a cat in the Clan turns one year old, they are chosen as either a Gifted or Typical. I'm loyal and true to ThicketClan, but you can't exactly call us a Clan. Sounds awesome? Sorry, but I don't want to switch places with a Twoleg anytime soon. I get one of the first picks of the fresh-kill pile, and I have a bit of power of some of my Clanmates. I can bathe in the sun all day, if I feel like it. If you think your life is great, take a look at mine. The moon shone down on an empty patch of dirt-littered snow.Īn owl's hoot echoed across the open valleys beyond then forest. His paw steps vanished as he turned away into the dark night. He sighed, then padded softly across the crunchy snow. The tom looked across the terrain ahead of him. But he would do anything, ANYTHING, to prove them wrong. His Clanmates told him it was because he wasn't the brightest hunter, the most loyal cat in the clan, or the strongest. The tom, to his frustration, had been chosen as a Typical. They had recreated the code, declaring every year-old cat Gifted or Typical. Now practically every cat in the Clans believed StarClan had betrayed them. Oh, StarClan, please help! He hated that his ancestors had been silent for so long. Why, he thought, are we forced to live this way? He took one last look at the midnight sky. The tom's bright eyes darkened as he looked up to the stars. He parted his jaws to taste the air, then closed them again in disappointment. The tom's yellow eyes darted around the forest, as if following a piece of prey. A dark brown tabby tom emerged from the storm of overhanging branches, letting the moonlight brighten his glistening pelt. The sharp sound of a twig cracking sounded from somewhere in the trees, followed by the crunching of snow beneath paws. Many of the trees had been swept away by the endless frost, and now only the strongest survived. It was the cold season of leaf-bare, and their were no leaves on the remaining trees. A cold wind swept through the branches, shaking the old trunks. Suddenly Shadepaw isn't so sure that he wants to be a Gifted–but does he have any choice?Ī bright sliver of moonlight peeked out from behind the shadowy silhouettes of a forest of trees. His family, friends, and Clanmates are certain that he'll be a Gifted, but suddenly Shadepaw's life is turned upside down as he discovers the deep-rooted history of the Gifteds that came long before him. Shadepaw has been waiting for the day when he will be selected as gifted.
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