Clan Announcement Quotes

As soon as the engagement was announced, the Pack Clans converged and shot the idea of a quiet ceremony out of the water and then kept firing at it until it stopped convulsing and died.

His eyes narrowed. “First, the marriage will take place. Just as soon as you’ve regained your senses and realize that tis the only sensible option left to you.” When she would have opened her mouth to dispute his assertion, he shocked her by clamping his hand over her mouth. “You will be silent and allow me to finish. I have doubts that you’ve ever been able to hold your silence for more than a moment in your entire lifetime,” he grumbled. She huffed but his hand tightened on her mouth. “I can only assume that my son overheard me speaking to my men of our marriage. If you would have but cautioned him to hold his tongue, he would not have repeated it beyond his question to you. But now, you’ve announced our marriage to the entire clan. Some might even consider it a proposal. In which case, I accept.” He finished with a grin and then stepped back, releasing his hold on her mouth. “Why … you …,” she sputtered. She worked her mouth up and down but nothing would come out. A cheer went up from the crowd assembled. “A wedding!

I’m Monkeystar,” the tortoiseshell announced. “I’m Clan leader, so I mostly decide what we do each day.” Monkeystar? What sort of a name is that? “What’s a monkey?” Graystripe asked. Monkeystar looked faintly embarrassed. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “But it’s the name that my housefolk gave me, so it must be something fierce, like me.

Their reappearance on the plain was enough to announce their success and the Wickans raised a wail that ran through each clan’s encampment, the sound as much sorrowful as triumphant, a fitting dirge to announce the fall of a god.

That was the trouble with being too highly born, Finbarr considered. The gods paid too much attention to you. It was ever thus in the Celtic world. Ravens would fly over the house to announce the death of a clan chief, swans would desert the lake. A king’s bad judgement could affect the weather. And if you were a prince, the druids made prophesies about you from before the day you were born; and after that, there was no escape.

On one such day, limping back to the home front beneath the anvil of the sun, I was accosted by my mother. "Patricia," my mother scolded, "put a shirt on!" "It's too hot," I moaned. "No one else has one on." "Hot or not, it's time you started wearing a shirt. You're about to become a young lady." I protested vehemently and announced that I was never going to become anything but myself, that I was of the clan of Peter Pan and we did not grow up. My mother won the argument and I put on a shirt, but I cannot exaggerate the betrayal I felt at that moment. I ruefully watched my mother performing her female tasks, noting herwell-endowed female body. It all seemed against my nature. The heavy scent of perfume and the red slashes of lipstick, so strong in the fifties, revolted me. For a time I resented her. She was the messenger and also the message. Stunned and defiant, with y dog at my feet, I dreamed of travel. Or running away and join the Foreign Legion, climbing the ranks and trekking the desert with my men.' p.10

The gray she-cat’s eyes were wide with distress. “I went into the nursery with some fresh-kill for Daisy and Sorreltail,” she explained. “The nest was still warm, but Daisy and the kits were gone.” “We’ve searched the whole camp,” Sorreltail added, lashing her tail. “We’ll have to send out patrols to look for them.” “Well, you won’t be going,” Ferncloud told her, brushing her muzzle against Sorreltail’s shoulder. “You need to stay with your kits.” “Brackenfur’s with them,” the young tortoiseshell queen mewed. “I want to help look for Daisy.” “Yes, but—” Ferncloud broke off as a flash of flame-colored fur announced the appearance of Firestar from his den on the Highledge. The Clan leader ran down the rocks and across the clearing toward them. “What’s going on?” Ferncloud explained; before she had finished speaking, Brambleclaw spotted Dustpelt emerging from the thorn tunnel, at the head of the returning dawn patrol. Squirrelflight, Sandstorm, and Brightheart were with him. Brambleclaw beckoned them over with his tail. “Did any of you see Daisy

give you a life for selflessness,” the former WindClan leader announced. “Use it well in the service of your Clan.

The Hastinapura Prince announced he was gifting the surrounding villages to a temple that would be built but have no idol. A Kurava Untouchable would be the Priest. To this day, family members of that old woman’s family are the hereditary Priests of the temple, which has no idol. Instead, the presiding deity is Duryodhana. The minor deities are his wife Bhanumati, his mother Gandhari, and his friend Karna.

WindClan has also thrived, despite the weather,” Harespring announced.

I give you a life for sympathy and understanding,” she murmured. “Use it well for the weakest in your Clan, and for all others who need your help and protection.” Swiftstar hardly gave Leafdapple time to receive that life before he strode up and touched noses with her. “I give you a life for selflessness,” the former WindClan leader announced. “Use it well in the service of your Clan.

am not a man, Diarmid.”“What do you mean? You look like a man, that’s for sure.”“I’m a seraph,”Michael responded calmly. “Some people call us angels. I’m an archangel.”Diarmid stared at Michael blankly. Apparently he had never heard of such a thing. Joni gripped my arm tightly. We were probably even more stunned by Michael’s announcement than Diarmid was perplexed. “It means I’m a messenger,”Michael continued. “I’m an ambassador, carrying out my master’s will. I am one of God’s messengers.”Diarmid raised his eyebrows. “Which one? There are so many gods. Every visitor or tradesman who visits our clan seems to claim different gods. I can’t keep them straight.”“Surely you are familiar with the Great Tree. The Tree of the Spirit Bull?”Michael’s inquiry was met with a grin of satisfaction and an open-mouthed, “Ahh.”His previous bewilderment was immediately replaced with an air of confidence. “I know this one,”Diarmid said resolutely. “The great branch. Taranus. The White Bull. The Creator. From his branch, Hu-Esus, the ideal man who will one day emerge from the tree and guide us all to perfection. And Beli, the Great Flame. A fire that burns still in man, guiding him back to the tree. Together, united in one trunk, all rooted in Ana-Earth, but extending its reach upward toward the skies.”“Indeed,”Michael responded with a smile. “Ceridwen has taught you well. That is the God whom I represent.”“One? But that’s three gods. Taranus, Hu-Esus, and Beli.”“Distinctly three, yes. But together, unified by a single trunk. They are ever distinct, ever inseparable. A unity. I serve all three, even as I serve the one. Together this God is known as All Father, the creator of the world. The One who made you and me. The animals. The forest around us. All of it.

I like my name,” Boulder announced, obviously unaware that he had done anything unusual. “Can I keep it?” The Clan leader paused for a couple of heartbeats. Finally, to Yellowfang’s surprise, he nodded. “Very well. From this time on you will be known as Boulder.

With this life I give you compassion,” she announced. “Use it well for the elders of your Clan, and the sick, and all those weaker than yourself.

I’m Monkeystar,” the tortoiseshell announced. “I’m Clan leader, so I mostly decide what we do each day.

Owl Eyes leaped onto a caterpillar, squashing it flat. “I killed it!” he announced proudly. “I can hunt!

No,” Nightcloud meowed at last. “You stay over there, where you belong. Oatclaw, run back to camp and ask Harestar if he wants to come and talk to the ThunderClan deputy.” Oatclaw raced off at once, his tail streaming out behind him as he disappeared through the trees. When he was gone, the WindClan cats settled down to wait on their own side of the stream. A slightly awkward silence fell. “How is the prey running in WindClan?” Sparkpelt asked after a moment. “Well enough,” Nightcloud replied curtly. “And is all well in ThunderClan?” Sedgewhisker added in a softer tone. Squirrelflight launched into a story about a patrol that had tracked a fox until it had finally decided to leave for the unassigned territory across the border. Flamepaw had to admire her tact: emphasizing ThunderClan’s courage and competence without touching on anything that could be interpreted as criticism of WindClan. The deputy was just finishing her story when Oatclaw reappeared. He was accompanied by Heathertail, and they were escorting not Harestar, but the WindClan deputy, Crowfeather. “Harestar was busy,” he announced brusquely as he drew to a halt at the edge of the stream.

Bramblestar is dead,” he announced. “For good. StarClan has forgotten us.” “No!

That’s a huge Twoleg!” Nettlekit squealed. “We have to scare him off, or he’ll attack the camp.” “I’m going to be Sharpclaw!” Plumkit announced. “I’ll lead the attack!” “But I want to be Sharpclaw!” Rabbitkit charged into his sister, pushing her over in a flurry of paws and tail. “Anyway, you’re a she-cat, mouse-brain. You can’t be Sharpclaw.