"The Clans are no more, Sootstar!"

    The shrill cry rose into the warm greenleaf air, startling a group of birds and sending them up into the clear sky, chattering their indignation. Below, their annoyance was echoed in the voice of a kit.

    "Why am I always Sootstar?" the grey she-cat whined, pawing at the ginger tom pinning her to the ground.

    "Because you're the only one of us with grey fur," the tom replied. "I'm always Heatherfur because she had golden fur, like me." He puffed his chest out proudly.

    "Nightkit has black fur and he always plays Robinfang!" the she-cat protested.

    "Cinderkit, do you want to play or not?" Cinderkit considered this for a moment before sighing loudly and nodding.

    "Alright, Nightkit into position! I'm going to make you the first truth-teller in history right after I get rid of this mangy coward." Flamekit lashed his tail from side to side in excitement, baring his teeth over Cinderkit's throat while she squealed beneath him.

    Nightkit, however, paid his littermates no mind. Sitting atop one of the High Rocks that made up DarkClan's camp, he set his eyes on the horizon, yellow eyes shining brightly with curiosity. To the west of High Rocks lay SeaClan's cliffs; to the north RockClan's old forest; and to the east MoorClan's open fields. To the south lay a great expanse of land, ungoverned and wild.

    All of this territory belonged to DarkClan now, and had for generations, but Nightkit found his mind wandering to what the Old Life may have looked like when there were three Clans instead of one. The kit did not voice this curiosity out loud, though - he was much too smart for that.

    "Nightkit!" The tom turned just in time to see a blur of orange fur barrel into him. They landed on the ground with a thud.

    "Pay attention, Robinfang!" Flamekit yowled. "What kind of truth-teller are you, always lost in thought?"

    "Flamekit, not so loud!" Cinderkit chided, flicking an ear nervously in the direction of the nursery, but her warning came too late.

    A white she-cat with brown flecks emerged from the den, green eyes narrowed at the trio suspiciously. Scars marred her face and sides and she walked with a slight limp.

    "Just what do you think you're doing, knocking Nightkit off of that rock like that?" she said sternly. "You could have hurt him!"

    "Sorry, Snowdapple," Flamekit said, flicking his tail unconcernedly at the caretaker. The apology sounded hollow to Nightkit's ears but, truthfully, he didn't expect his littermate to apologize at all. Caretakers were the lowest cats in the Clan pecking order. And, besides that, Flamekit was always pushing him around.

    The she-cat opened her mouth to continue, but closed it quickly as a shadow fell over them.

    "Now, now, Snowdapple, whatever is the matter?" The voice of the new cat dripped like honey, sweet and low but with an undertone of poison.

    "Dawnstar," the caretaker said, bowing her head in her leader's direction. "I was just telling Flamekit to be more careful. He knocked Nightkit off of one of the High Rocks."

    Dawnstar turned her cold amber gaze to Nightkit and a chill ran down his spine. "He seems like a healthy young kit to me." Snowdapple remained silent, head still bowed.

    "We were just pretending to be part of the Masked Uprising," Flamekit piped up innocently. "I was Heatherfur, Cinderkit was playing Sootstar, and Nightkit was supposed to be Robinfang, but he got distracted. That's why I knocked him off the High Rocks."

    The leader turned an ear in Flamekit's direction as he spoke but her eyes never left Nightkit's. The black tom shifted nervously but found he could not look away from her mesmerizing gaze.

    "You're an observant one, aren't you?" she said. "Casting a watchful eye when others are keen to act?" She flicked her cream and blue tail over Nightkit's cheek as she spoke. "And those markings - rather strange, aren't they?"

    Nightkit blinked, knowing Dawnstar referred to the white fur around his eyes. In his otherwise black coat, it looked as if his eyes were lined with snow.

    "He's always had those marks," Cinderkit mewed quietly in his defence.

    To Nightkit's surprise, Dawnstar purred. "Oh, I know. Perhaps you are meant for a higher purpose." A glimmer appeared in her otherwise cold eyes as she got up to leave.

    "Continue your reenactment of the Uprising," she urged before turning to Snowdapple, who cowered before her. "And you. If kits want to play at DarkClan's history, why stop them? Unless, of course, you believe the Old Life was better?"

    Immediately, the caretaker shook her head. "Good," Dawnstar said, cuffing the white she-cat's ear with a heavy paw. "Kits will hurt themselves sometimes. Won't be the first time, won't be the last. It'll make them stronger warriors later. But you wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?"

    Dawnstar curled her lips in a sneer before leaving the caretaker with her charges. The trio of littermates watched the cream and blue tortoiseshell, awe shining in their round kit eyes. She moved with an authority no one else in the Clan could, head held high and tail up.

    "So, Robinfang," Flamekit said once Dawnstar disappeared into her den, ignoring Snowdapple's cowering form. "I believe it's time you became our first truth-teller." Nightkit nodded eagerly, focusing his full attention on their game.

    "The first truth-teller, you say?" This time, the interrupting voice sounded much friendlier, a strong story-telling voice only one cat in the Clan possessed.

    "Hailwatcher!" the kits chorused. The tom twitched his whiskers, dismissing Snowdapple before turning to the kits. He settled his giant body on the ground in one swift movement, white and black spotted pelt gleaming in the sun. Behind him, two guards shadowed his movements.

    "So, where were we in the story of the Masked Uprising?" he asked.

    "Heatherfur had just killed Sootstar and was about to make Robinfang her truth-teller," Flamekit offered.

    "Ah, yes. My favourite part of the story," the old tom said. "Would you like to tell it?"

    Before Flamekit could cut in in his usual boisterous manner, Nightkit cut him off. "No, you tell it." His ginger littermate shot him a look of disapproval but Nightkit didn't care. There was something about the way Hailwatcher told his stories that made Nightkit want to listen to them all day.

    "Alright," the spotted tom agreed before doing what he did best: telling the history of DarkClan.

    "After Heatherfur killed Sootstar, the rebels united the remainders of their Clans. DarkClan, named after the darkness brought by the eclipse on the night of the Masked Uprising, named Heatherfur their leader. She accepted the name Heatherstar, though she did not go to the Moonwaters to receive nine lives, as a show of power against StarClan, who could not defeat someone as great as the leader of DarkClan. All belief in StarClan was eradicated that night, banishing from our lives the warrior ancestors who had led us astray too many times.

    "All rebels were offered a place in the new, superior DarkClan, which they readily took. Prisoners of the rebel group were told to renounce their faith in StarClan and leave behind the ideals of the Old Life in exchange for a place within DarkClan's ranks. Many took the offer, but many others held fast to their beliefs. Heatherstar and Rushclaw, now her deputy, put a quick end to that poisonous lot.

    "The Clan grew in size and strength then. New kits were born to pairs of warriors chosen specially by Heatherstar for their admirable qualities. The cats deemed unworthy of holding warrior status were made caretakers in order to care for the kits when their mothers returned to their warrior duties. In this way, Heatherstar ensured that there was no room for affection to grow.

    "Yet, DarkClan's ranks continued to display rebellious behaviour. Heatherstar wondered if the past was not enough to keep them from treason and decided she needed to remind the Clan of the weaknesses of love more frequently. She needed someone who would keep the history of DarkClan, remembering it faithfully and passing it on to future generations."

    "Robinfang!" Flamekit cut in. Nightkit sharply covered his littermate's mouth with his tail, never once taking his eyes off of Hailwatcher.

    "That's right. She named Robinfang the first truth-teller the next day, giving her the name Robinwatcher for her observant nature. It became Robinwatcher's task to remain alert for signs of treason and to warn the Clan of the consequences.

    "She told stories at every ceremony and visited the kits in the nursery to teach them from a young age the dangers of love - just as I do now. And when Robinwatcher grew old and grey, she took on an apprentice, a kit born with strange markings on his fur.

    "He swore an oath on the day of his apprenticeship: 'Let my mouth be an outlet for the truths of DarkClan, my eyes a careful witness to treason, and my claws a testament to the consequences of betrayal'. She taught him the history of DarkClan and told him stories of treason, and when she had taught him all there was to know she left the Clan to spend her last days alone.

    "Thornwillow continued Robinwatcher's legacy, passing on knowledge to the next truth-teller, and that truth-teller to the next; and so it was, up until today where I stand before you."

    Nightkit realized a hush had fallen upon the entire Clan as Hailwatcher finished his story, warriors and kits alike entranced by the telling. Slowly, the truth-teller rose to his paws, his guards following suit, and made his way over to the Speaking Stone, where Dawnstar patiently waited.

    "A story all of us know well," she began. "One that tells us of our beginnings, our values, the power brought to us by pushing aside the Old Life. That power continues today in the strength of our loyal warriors, attentive truth-teller and, of course, the future of the Clan: our kits."

    The black tom felt a shiver run through him as he realized what Dawnstar's words meant. Beside him, Flamekit shook in anticipation and Cinderkit drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

    "Flamekit, you are of age to become an apprentice. It is my hope that Rowanstorm's steadiness will quiet your boisterous nature and transform it into a lust for power and loyalty to DarkClan. You may join your mentor."

    The ginger tom rose in a dignified manner, approaching the large tabby warrior confidently. Rowanstorm acknowledged him with a nod before turning back to Dawnstar.

    "Cinderkit, you will be apprenticed to Marshclaw. May her ferocity dull your softness and make you a powerful and quick warrior of DarkClan. Join your mentor now."

    Cinderkit was more hesitant than her littermate, turning to look at Nightkit with large eyes. He purred his encouragement and watched as the she-cat joined her tortoiseshell mentor on the other side of the camp.

    This left Nightkit alone before the nursery, all of DarkClan's eyes on him. His heart thumped in his chest wildly as he searched through the crowd, wondering which pair of eyes belonged to the cat who would mentor him.

    "Nightkit, step forward." Shakily, the black tom got to his paws, moving through the Clan's ranks before being stopped right before Hailwatcher.

    "You are marked, Nightkit, and for this reason your apprenticeship will take a different form. Hailwatcher grows old and tired while you are only now beginning to flourish. Let the truth-teller teach you all he knows so that Robinwatcher's legacy may continue through you."

    Nightkit looked up at his new mentor, shocked. The truth-teller nodded, eyes focused questioningly on the young tom before him.

    Swallowing, the black kit realized what he needed to do. Remembering the words from the truth-teller's tale, he closed his eyes and said: "Let my mouth be an outlet for the truths of DarkClan, my eyes a careful witness to treason, and my claws a testament to the consequences of betrayal."

    Silence, then: "Let Nightpaw carry on the truth-teller's post long after I am gone." Blinking open his eyes, Nightkit saw warmth in Hailwatcher's as he regarded his apprentice.

    "Welcome to the ranks of DarkClan!" Dawnstar cried. "Now, back to your duties."

    The Clan dispersed quickly, leaving Nightpaw and Hailwatcher alone amongst the High Rocks. The black tom felt his body ache as the adrenaline left him but remained still, awaiting orders from his mentor.

    When the black and white tom rose to his paws without a word, Nightpaw followed.

// I've decided I will be updating on Sundays! Writing is slowly coming along but I hope to have regular updates. The media for this chapter is a quick hand-drawn map of DarkClan (formerly SeaClan, MoorClan and RockClan) territory. Let me know what you thought of the Clan's strange culture and the story of the Masked Uprising!