Clan Leader Quotes

Fire will save the Clan...you never understood, did you? Not even when I gave you your apprentice name, Firepaw. And I doubted it myself, when fire raged through our camp. Yet I see the truth now. Fireheart, you are the fire who will save ThunderClan. You will be a great leader. One of the greatest the forest has ever known. You will have the warmth of fire to protect your Clan and the fierceness of fire to defend it. You will be Firestar, the light of ThunderClan." - Bluestar

There will be three cats, kin of your kin, with the power of the stars in their paws. They will find a fourth, and the battle between light and dark will be won. A new leader will rise from the shadows of his death, and the clan will survive beyond thge memories of his memeries. This is how it has always been and alway will be.

Squirrelflight rested her tail on his shoulder, urging him to lie still until his injuries could be treated. Brambleclaw led Stormfur and Brook up to Firestar. The Clan leader's eyes stretched wide in surprise. "Stormfur...and Brook! What are you doing here?" "There'll be time to explain later," Stormfur meowed. "For now, Firestar, put us to work.

Redtail was a brave warrior. His loyalty to ThunderClan could never be doubted. I always relied on his judgment, for it bore witness to the needs of the Clan, and was never swayed by self-interest or pride. He would have made a fine leader.

It was his cunning, this confidence and farsightedness in dealing with his own Clan, that made Crookedstar one of the strongest leaders the Clans have ever seen.

Fox dung! I'm a loyal ShadowClan cat. If I'm ever made deputy or leader it will be because I have earned it myself - and my Clanmates and StarClan wish it. You're twisting the warrior code to get what you want, just like you did when you were alive.

She liked a very particular kind of plot: the sort where the pirate kidnaps some virgin damsel, rapes her into loving him, and then dispatches lots of seamen while she polishes his cutlass. Or where the Highland clan leader kidnaps some virginal English Rose, rapes her into loving him, and then kills entire armies Sassenachs while she stuffs his haggis. Or where the Native American warrior kidnaps a virginal white settler, rapes her into loving him, and then kills a bunch of colonists while she whets his tomahawk. I hated to get Freudian on Linda, but her reading patterns suggested some interesting insight into why she is such a bitch.

There will be three cats, kin of your kin, with the power of the stars in their paws. They will find a fourth, and the battle between light and dark will be won. A new leader will rise from the shadows of his death, and the Clans will survive beyond the memories of his memories. This is how it has always been, and how it will always be.

To truly be a medicine cat lies in a cat's heart, and all its five senses. You must be braver than warriors, wiser than a clan leader, humbler than the tiniest kit, more willing to learn than an apprentice...

He paused; a grim silence gripped the whole clearing, broken by a contemptious Rumble from Tigerstar. "Mew away, little kittypet. It won't change anything." Firestar ignored him. "Being deputy wasn't enough," he went on. "Tigerstar wanted to be leader of the clan. He set a trap for Bluestar by the Thunderpath, but my own apprentice strayed into it instead. That's how Cinderpelt came by her crippled leg." A shocked murmer swept through the clearing. Except for Bloodclan, they all knew of Cinderpelt, she was popular even with cats of other clans. Then Tigerstar conspired with Brokentail, the fomer leader of ShadowClan, who was ThunderClan's prisoner," Firestar told the listening cats. "He brought a pack of rogues into ThunderClan camp, and tried to murder Bluestar with his own claws. I stopped him, and when ThunderClan had beaten off the attack we drove him into excile. As a rogue, he slaughtered, Runningwind. Then before we knew what he was up too, he had made himself leader of ShadowClan.

I've never doubted that you should be our leader. I've always believed that, ever since Firestar took you to the Skyrock to receive your nine lives. I challenged you, yes, so I could be sure of your conviction that you were doing the right thing. What SkyClan needs more than anything else is a leader who has faith in herself. Because only then could other cats have faith in her, too.

Wait,” said Ragnor, and he started to snigger. “Is this about your Nephilim boyfriend?” “Our relationship is as yet undefined,” said Magnus with dignity. Then he clutched the phone and hissed, “And how do you know private details about my personal life with Alexander?” “Ooooh, Alexander,” Ragnor said in a singsong voice. “I know all about it. Raphael called and told me.” “Raphael Santiago,” said Magnus, thinking darkly of the current leader of the New York vampire clan, “has a black ungrateful heart, and one day he will be punished for this treachery.

And with a cold shiver of dread, Fireheart realized that the new leader of ShadowClan was Tigerclaw.

Any Clan leader would have bees in their brain if they didn’t want a brilliant warrior like you,

A leader must always put the clan’s interests before his own; it is the first thing you must learn. That is why self-control is so essential to a leader. The clan’s survival is his responsibility. A leader has less freedom than a woman, Broud. He must do many things he may not want to. If necessary, he must even disown the son of his mate. Do you understand?

My littermates said I was too small...too weak. But I have proven them wrong. I've learned how to live for blood. Because that's the key. The only answer. I am leader of BloodClan. I am Scourge. And I have won!

There will be three cats, kin of your kin, with the power of the stars in their paws. They will find a fourth, and the battle betweem light and dark will be won. A new leader will rise from the shadows of his death, and the Clans will Survive beyond the memories of his memories. This is how it has always been, and hot it always will be.

We each have within ourselves the ability to shape our own destinies. That much we understand. But, more important, each of us has an equal ability to shape the destiny of the universe. Ah, that you find more difficult to believe. But I tell you it is so. You do not have to be the leader of the Council. You do not have to be king or monarch or the head of a clan to have a significant impact on the world around you. In the vastness of the ocean, is any drop of water greater than another? No, you answer, and neither has a single drop the ability to cause a tidal wave. But, I argue, if a single drop falls into the ocean, it creates ripples. And these ripples spread. And perhaps - who knows - these ripples may grow and swell and eventually break foaming upon the shore. Like a drop in the vast ocean, each of us causes ripples as we move through our lives. The effects of whatever we do - insignificant as it may seem - spread out beyond us. We may never know what far-reaching impact even the simplest action might have on our fellow mortals. Thus we need to be conscious, all of the time, of our place in the ocean, of our place in the world, of our place among our fellow creatures. For if enough of us join forces, we can swell the tide of events - for good or for evil.

Its monarch, the ManiKongo, was chosen by an assembly of clan leaders. Like his European counterparts, he

Only Skystar looked unconvinced. “So the rule on boundaries comes last now?” Gray Wing looked at the SkyClan leader. “Perhaps it should have come last all along.

Elliott performed a dance called the Dance of the Twenty-Eight Veils in Times Square. It is on YouTube. Many commenters described it as the most boring erotic dance ever performed in the history of the world. I have never been so embarrassed in my unlife. I’m thinking of quitting being leader of the clan and becoming a vampire nun.

You will be a great leader.” Bluestar’s voice was the merest whisper. “One of the greatest the forest has ever known. You will have the warmth of fire to protect your Clan and the fierceness of fire to defend it. You will be Firestar, the light of ThunderClan.

the leaders arranged themselves near the mouth of the cave. They waited quietly for the attention of the assembled clans. The silence spread out like the ripples of a stone cast in a pond as the presence of the leaders was made known. Men moved quickly into positions defined by clan and personal rank. The women dropped their work, signaled suddenly well-behaved children, and silently followed suit. The Bear Ceremony was about to begin.

Was it possible that Bluestar’s kits hadn’t died all those moons ago? Could it be that Mistyfoot and Stonefur were the ThunderClan leader’s lost kits?

Don’t I know you?” the ThunderClan leader murmured. “I thought I knew a promising young warrior once. . . . He looked a lot like you.

Plenty of she-cats have kits and then return to the warriors’ den.” But do they become Clan leader?

Bramblestar nodded toward Bumblestripe. “I sent a loyal warrior to see where you went,” the ThunderClan leader growled.

We need no help from ThunderClan,” growled Crookedstar. “RiverClan cats can look after themselves.” “Don’t be such a fool.” It was Graypool who spoke, with a glare at her leader. Fireheart felt a new surge of respect for her; he guessed that not many cats would dare to take that tone with Crookedstar. “You’re too proud for your own good,” the elder rasped. “How can we feed ourselves, even with the thaw? There are no fish to eat. The river’s practically poisoned; you know it is.

He had been prepared to kill to become deputy, and then Clan leader. Did his son, Brambleclaw, share the same ambitions? And would he be prepared to take the same murderous path to achieve them?

And yet these Americans, with their helicopters and laser-guided weapons and shock-troop Rangers were going to somehow sort it out in a few weeks? Arrest Aidid and make it all better? They were trying to take down a clan, the most ancient and efficient social organization known to man. Didn’t the Americans realize that for every leader they arrested there were dozens of brothers, cousins, sons, and nephews to take his place? Setbacks just strengthened the clan’s resolve. Even if the Habr Gidr were somehow crippled or destroyed, wouldn’t that just elevate the next most powerful clan? Or did the Americans expect Somalia to suddenly sprout full-fledged Jeffersonian democracy?

(Somalia) was a watershed," said one State Department official, "The idea used to be that terrible countries were terrible because good, decent, innocent people were being oppressed by evil, thuggish leaders. Somalia changed that. Here you have a country where just about everybody is caught up in hatred and fighting. You stop an old lady on the street and ask her if she wants peace, and she’ll say, yes, of course, I pray for it daily. All the things you’d expect her to say. Then ask her if she would be willing for her clan to share power with another in order to have that peace, and she’ll say, 'With those murderers and thieves? I’d die first.' People in these countries - Bosnia is a more recent example - don’t want peace. They want victory. They want power. Men, women, old and young. Somalia was the experience that taught us that people in these places bear much of the responsibility for things being the way they are. The hatred and the killing continues because they want it to. Or because they don’t want peace enough to stop it." (pg 334-335)

His voice was steady, and Firestar began to envy his calm, unshaking courage, until he caught the WindClan leader’s fear-scent and heard him mutter under his breath, “StarClan help us! Show us an enemy we can fight!

Brambleclaw: "you helped Mudclaw, you attacked WindClan, but now..." Hawkfrost: "True, i joined Muclaw because i believed he is the rightful leader of WindClan. But your my brother, Brambleclaw, how could i let him kill you?

As much as he cared for Kaitlin, he knew that the clan’s survival was much more important that his own heart. Without her, he would be heartbroken all over again. He would lose her just as he had lost Angela with no hope of ever seeing her again, but he could run the clan with a broken heart. He would be a stronger, more feared leader without her, but he was sure that if Kaitlin had known his reasoning, she would have understood. She was the only one to understand him.

Let’s add up what we know. He gravitated toward all things occult. He wanted to be a member of a tight clan with strict rules and secret codes. He craved highly organized social structures, with leaders and followers clearly distinguished.  A group with little appeal to the masses. A group with few members. We know that these Nordic runes fascinated him. And apparently he held that fascination for a long time, given that he added the ‘Hagalaz’ to the message intended for Marshal Pack.

A pretty vampire woman in a cheongsam came flying down the hallway, ribbons waving from her purple-streaked hair like a silken flag. Her face was familiar. Alec had seen her at Taki’s, and around the city more generally, usually with Raphael. “Save us, oh fearless leader,” said Raphael’s lady friend. “Elliott’s in a huge aquarium puking blue and green. He tried to drink mermaid blood. He tried to drink selkie blood. He tried to—” “Ahem,” said Raphael, with a savage jerk of his head in Alec’s direction. Alec waved. “Shadowhunter,” he said. “Right here. Hi.” “He tried to keep to the Accords and obey all the known Laws!” the woman declared. “Because that’s the New York clan’s idea of a truly festive good time.” Alec remembered Magnus and tried not to look like he was here to ruin the Downworlder party. There was one thing he and this woman had in common. He recognized the bright purple she was wearing. “I think I saw you earlier,” said Alec hesitantly. “You were—making out with a faerie girl?” “Yeah, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that,” said the vampire woman. “This is a party. I’ve made out with six faerie girls, four faerie boys, and a talking toadstool whose gender I’m unsure about. Pretty sexy for a toadstool, though.” Raphael covered his face briefly with his non-texting hand. “Why, you want to make something of it?” The woman bristled. “How happy I am to see the Nephilim constantly crashing our parties. Were you even invited?” “I’m a plus-one,” said Alec. The vampire girl relaxed slightly. “Oh, right, you’re Magnus’s latest disaster,” she said. “That’s what Raphael calls you. I’m Lily.” She lifted a hand in a halfhearted wave. Alec glanced at Raphael, who arched his eyebrow at Alec in an unfriendly way. “Didn’t realize Raphael and I were on pet name terms,” said Alec. He continued to study Raphael. “Do you know Magnus well?” “Hardly at all,” said Raphael. “Barely acquainted. I don’t think much of his personality. Or his dress sense. Or the company he keeps. Come away, Lily. Alexander, I hope I never see you again.” “I’ve decided I detest you,” Lily told Alec. “It’s mutual,” Alec said dryly. Unexpectedly, that made Lily smile, before Raphael dragged her away.

Spotfur lifted her head sharply and stared at the ThunderClan leader. Bristlefrost felt cold. Was this a normal way to punish Clanmates? She glanced at Graystripe. He’d know, surely. But the old warrior looked as surprised as she felt. Bramblestar’s gaze moved to Lionblaze. “You are banished from the camp for a quarter moon.

It was a tense moment. If Norg refused them, they would have no choice but to return the long distance back to their cave. It would be a grave breach of propriety, but to allow Ayla entrance would be tantamount to accepting her as a woman of the Clan; at least it would give Brun a clear edge. Norg looked again at his mog-ur, then at the powerful one-eyed man who was The Mog-ur, then back at the man who was leader of the clan ranked first of all the clans. If The Mog-ur said so, what could he do?

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.

Lupus Star Wolves (the spirits of dead wolves who have traveled to the Cave of Souls) air ceilidh fyre (lightning) chieftains (clan leaders) lords (pack leaders) skreeleens byrrgis leaders captains lieutenants sublieutenants corporals packers gnaw wolves unranked Obeas owls other four-legged animals other birds, except owls plants earth fire water

Are we supposed to believe that only one family in this Clan can raise kits to be leaders? Are the rest of us just here for them to order around?

Scourge himself was killed by Firestar, leader of ThunderClan and Tigerstar’s chief opponent.

Killed by Blood, the leader of BloodClan.

Over the next ten years, more and more families and clans began to align themselves with the rising leader.

If you have half the courage and loyalty of Firestar, you will be a fine leader for ThunderClan.

Both the Glory and the destroyer We are Proud to Honor Clan Sub-Leader Rash-au-Tal Vergent who Inspires us Every Day had gathered vital intelligence about Ruhar defense tactics and capabilities.

Ambition gripped Brambleclaw like an eagle’s talons. Hard as it was to admit it, he knew that he wanted to be deputy, and then leader, of his Clan. Was this what Tigerstar had felt? he wondered.

Rippleclaw dipped his head. “Should I carry Hailstar back to camp?” Crookedjaw shook his head. “I will.” Brambleberry raised one paw to stop him. “You can’t. You’re hurt.” “It’s only a few nips.” Crookedjaw was too numb to feel anything. He crouched down while Rippleclaw and Owlfur dragged the RiverClan leader onto his back, then forced his legs to straighten to begin Hailstar’s final journey home. Crookedjaw

He handed his brother the drink and sat beside him. Drifts of snow skittered past the wall of glass in flurries. “How was the evening?” Cyn took a swig of his drink. “She’s not interested in any of them, so do not worry.” He automatically straightened. “I am not worried.” As the leader of the mountain clan, he was not concerned about a human female other than her capacity as his responsibility. “Hmm.” Con was silent for a long moment. “She is not?” “No.

Spottedleaf isn’t with StarClan anymore.” Grief thickened her mew. “But she gave Firestar a life for love.” A sob shook Sandstorm’s shoulders. Bluestar went on. “I gave him a life for nobility, though he was born with more nobility than any warrior I ever knew.” Her blue eyes glazed with sorrow. “I knew that Firestar would save the Clan many moons ago. As fire, and then as the fourth cat in the oldest prophecy, he succeeded. He leaves ThunderClan in the paws of a new leader.” She looked at Brambleclaw. “If you have half the courage and loyalty of Firestar, you will be a fine leader for ThunderClan.” As she spoke the StarClan cats drew closer around Firestar’s body. Touching pelts, they gazed down. A shadow stirred over the orange shape.

Tigerclaw swung his head around and fixed her with a yellow glare. “Defend myself to you, you gutless excuse for a warrior? What sort of a leader are you? Keeping the peace with other Clans. Helping them! You barely punished Fireheart and Graystripe for feeding RiverClan, and you sent them to fetch WindClan home! I would have never shown such kittypet softness. I would have brought back the days of TigerClan. I would have made ThunderClan great!” “And how many cats would have died for it?” Bluestar murmured, almost to herself.

Scourge!” Firestar yowled. “Turn and face me!” The small black cat whipped around, letting go of Cloudtail in his shock. “How . . . I killed you.” “You did,” Firestar spat back at him. “But I am a leader with nine lives who fights alongside StarClan. Can you say as much?

ThunderClan needs more young cats. We only have two apprentices, and although Sorreltail’s kits will be very welcome, they won’t begin their warrior training for moons.” Brackenfur and Sorreltail, who had emerged from the nursery to stand beside her mate, blinked proudly at each other. “But these are kittypets,” Brambleclaw objected. “How are they going to learn—” “What did you say?” Cloudtail whirled around to face Brambleclaw, his blue eyes slitted with anger. “Have you forgotten that your Clan leader was a kittypet? That I was a kittypet? I’ll show you that a kittypet can claw your ears off any time.

Tigerclaw, what is this?” Bluestar’s meow was sharper now, edged with anger, not fear. “I’m the leader of your Clan, or have you forgotten that?” “Not for much longer,” Tigerclaw growled. “I’m going to kill you, and kill you again. As many times as it takes for you to join StarClan forever. It’s time for me to lead this Clan!

We shall miss Leopardstar. I remember her from all the way back when I was an apprentice in ThunderClan. I always respected her, and, though her loyalty to RiverClan never wavered, she was a leader who understood the importance of keeping every Clan strong. She had the heart, courage, and strength of the mighty cat she was named for.

I, Raggedstar, give you this life for loyalty.” As the tom’s nose touched his head, Tigerheart was suddenly aware of the depth of rock beneath his paws. His pads drew in its burning chill until ice seemed to freeze his bones. He twitched as Raggedstar went on. “A leader’s loyalty belongs only to his Clan. Let loyalty be your heartbeat, for when it stops, so will you.

Remembering what One-eye had told him, he began to speak. “Spirits of StarClan, you know every cat by name. I ask you now to take away the name from the cat you see before you, for it no longer stands for what she is.” He paused and saw the young ginger-and-white she-cat shiver, as she waited, nameless, before StarClan. Firestar hoped she would like the name he had chosen for her; he had thought hard before he was sure he had gotten it right. “By my authority as Clan leader,” Firestar announced, “and with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give this cat a new name. From this moment she will be known as Brightheart, for though her body has been gravely injured, we honor her brave spirit and the light that shines on within her.

It’s not up to us to trust him now,” Fireheart pointed out. “He’s got a new Clan, and Runningnose reported an omen that seemed to say StarClan would be sending them a great new leader. StarClan must know that ShadowClan needs a strong warrior to build them up again after the sickness.” Graystripe didn’t look convinced. “StarClan sent him?” He snorted. “I’ll believe that when hedgehogs fly.

You will be a great leader.” Bluestar’s voice was the merest whisper. “One of the greatest the forest has ever known. You will have the warmth of fire to protect your Clan and the fierceness of fire to defend it. You will be Firestar, the light of ThunderClan.” “No,” Fireheart protested. “I can’t. Not without you, Bluestar.” But it was too late. Bluestar sighed softly, and the light died from her eyes.

I came back . . . for you.” The effort had been too much. Bramblestar’s body sagged and his eyes closed as he lapsed back into unconsciousness. “Is he dead?” Squirrelflight asked, her eyes wide with alarm. Shadowsight bent over the ThunderClan leader, placing a paw on his chest and sniffing around his muzzle. “No, he’s alive,” he mewed at last. Straightening up, he added, “Squirrelflight, what did that mean? ‘I came back for you’?” For a moment Squirrelflight seemed completely confused, gazing up at the roof of the den and back down at Bramblestar’s motionless form. “I’m starting to think there’s something familiar about this fake Bramblestar,” she murmured. “But I can’t quite put my paw on what it is, or who it might actually be. I do know one thing, though,” she added, meeting Shadowsight’s concerned gaze. “I have a terrible feeling about all of this.

For the next quarter moon,” Bramblestar began, “no cat is to talk to Spotfur.” Spotfur lifted her head sharply and stared at the ThunderClan leader. Bristlefrost felt cold. Was this a normal way to punish Clanmates? She glanced at Graystripe. He’d know, surely. But the old warrior looked as surprised as she felt. Bramblestar’s gaze moved to Lionblaze. “You are banished from the camp for a quarter moon.” Cinderheart stepped forward. “You can’t do that. . . .” She stared at Bramblestar. “He’s a ThunderClan warrior. We protect each other!” Bramblestar looked coolly at Lionblaze’s mate. “He has broken the warrior code, and questioned me for trying to uphold it. I will not let any cat undermine me or my Clan like that.” He returned his gaze to Lionblaze, who was staring at him in amazement. “You’re a seasoned warrior. You should know better.” Lionblaze’s gaze cleared. He blinked in disbelief but didn’t speak.

Sasha had been a rogue cat wandering the forest, until she had come to RiverClan with her kits and settled briefly there. She might have visited ShadowClan when Tigerstar was leader. It was possible. . . . Leafpaw froze. She realized which cat Hawkfrost resembled so strongly. Brambleclaw! And every cat knew who Brambleclaw’s father was. Could it be possible that Tigerstar was Hawkfrost’s and Mothwing’s father as well? If he was, that would make Hawkfrost and Brambleclaw half brothers.

Manon stalked through the ranks of the assembled Blackbeak coven leaders. They were the most numerous—twenty coven leaders, over which Manon ruled with her Thirteen. Each leader touched two fingers to her brow in deference. She ignored them and took up a spot at the front of the crowd, where her grandmother gave her an acknowledging glance. An honor, for any High Witch to acknowledge an individual. Manon bowed her head, pressing two fingers to her brow. Obedience, discipline, and brutality were the most beloved words in the Blackbeak Clan.

1. Recruit the smallest group of people who can accomplish what must be done quickly and with high quality. Comparative Advantage means that some people will be better than others at accomplishing certain tasks, so it pays to invest time and resources in recruiting the best team for the job. Don’t make that team too large, however—Communication Overhead makes each additional team member beyond a core of three to eight people a drag on performance. Small, elite teams are best. 2. Clearly communicate the desired End Result, who is responsible for what, and the current status. Everyone on the team must know the Commander’s Intent of the project, the Reason Why it’s important, and must clearly know the specific parts of the project they’re individually responsible for completing—otherwise, you’re risking Bystander Apathy. 3. Treat people with respect. Consistently using the Golden Trifecta—appreciation, courtesy, and respect—is the best way to make the individuals on your team feel Important and is also the best way to ensure that they respect you as a leader and manager. The more your team works together under mutually supportive conditions, the more Clanning will naturally occur, and the more cohesive the team will become. 4. Create an Environment where everyone can be as productive as possible, then let people do their work. The best working Environment takes full advantage of Guiding Structure—provide the best equipment and tools possible and ensure that the Environment reinforces the work the team is doing. To avoid having energy sapped by the Cognitive Switching Penalty, shield your team from as many distractions as possible, which includes nonessential bureaucracy and meetings. 5. Refrain from having unrealistic expectations regarding certainty and prediction. Create an aggressive plan to complete the project, but be aware in advance that Uncertainty and the Planning Fallacy mean your initial plan will almost certainly be incomplete or inaccurate in a few important respects. Update your plan as you go along, using what you learn along the way, and continually reapply Parkinson’s Law to find the shortest feasible path to completion that works, given the necessary Trade-offs required by the work. 6. Measure to see if what you’re doing is working—if not, try another approach. One of the primary fallacies of effective Management is that it makes learning unnecessary. This mind-set assumes your initial plan should be 100 percent perfect and followed to the letter. The exact opposite is true: effective Management means planning for learning, which requires constant adjustments along the way. Constantly Measure your performance across a small set of Key Performance Indicators (discussed later)—if what you’re doing doesn’t appear to be working, Experiment with another approach.

Iroquoian Women: The Gantowisas (2004), the female-led clan councils set the agenda of the League—“men could not consider a matter not sent to them by the women.” Women, who held title to all the land and its produce, could vote down decisions by the male leaders of the League and demand that an issue be reconsidered. Under this regime women were so much better off than their counterparts in Europe that nineteenth-century U.S. feminists like Lucretia Mott, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Matilda Joslyn Gage, all of whom lived in Haudenosaunee country, drew inspiration from their lot.

I know prey is scarce,” he meowed. “But you shouldn’t bother coming back until you have something to show for your efforts. If you’re real warriors, you’ll freeze your paws off if you have to, for the survival of your Clan.” As she listened, Bristlefrost grew uneasy at the tone of her leader’s words. His voice sounded rougher than usual, not like the calm, measured leader Bristlefrost had always admired. Squirrelflight seemed to share her misgivings. “Aren’t you being a little harsh?” she murmured to Bramblestar. “All the warriors are doing their best under very difficult conditions.

Finally, a group of leading Meccans, one from every major clan of the Quraysh, banded together in the dark outside Muhammad’s house, knives at the ready, waiting for him to emerge for dawn prayers. Warned of the plot just in time, he fled Mecca under cover of night along with a single companion and headed for the oasis city of Medina to the north, where he was welcomed first as a peacemaker between feuding tribes, then as a leader. The year of his nighttime flight for refuge—the hijra, or emigration—would become the foundation year of the Islamic calendar: 622 A.D., or the year One A.H., After the Hijra.

Bluefur headed along the fern tunnel. Why wasn’t Goosefeather helping more? Why did ThunderClan seem to have the laziest, dumbest medicine cat? As she reached the end of the tunnel, she stopped. The medicine clearing was cool and green and empty. “Goosefeather!” Bluefur guessed he was sleeping in his den. Two eyes peered from the crack in the rock. Bluefur tensed. They were round and wild, and for a moment she thought a fox had got in. “Goosefeather?” she ventured shakily. The medicine cat padded out, his pelt ruffled. His eyes were still wild, but less startling in the daylight. “What is it?” “Featherwhisker sent me for herbs for my belly. I shared a bad mouse with Sweetpaw and Rosepaw last night.” “You as well?” He rolled his eyes. Bluefur nodded. “Evil omens everywhere.” Bluefur wondered if she’d heard the medicine cat correctly. He was muttering as he turned back into his den and still muttering as he came out and shoved a pawful of shredded leaves in front of her. “It was just a bad mouse,” she meowed, wondering why he was so upset. He leaned toward her, his breath stinky in her face. “Just a bad mouse?” he echoed. “Another warning, that’s what it was! I should have seen it coming. I should have noticed.” “How?” Bluefur backed away. “It didn’t taste bad.” She realized that his pelt wasn’t ruffled from sleep, but simply ungroomed. It clung to his frame as though the season were leaf-bare and he hadn’t eaten properly for a moon. She took another pace back. “It was just a bad mouse,” she repeated. He turned a disbelieving look on her. “How can you—you of all cats—ignore the signs?” he spat. “Me?” What did he mean? “You have a prophecy hanging over your head like a hawk. You’re fire, and only water can destroy you! You can’t ignore the signs.” “B-but…I’m just a warrior.” Was she supposed to have the insight of a medicine cat? That wasn’t fair. He should be giving her answers, not taunting her with the promise of a destiny she didn’t understand. She had wondered when Goosefeather would again speak to her about the prophecy, but now he was making even less sense than before. “Just a warrior?” His whiskers trembled. “Too many omens. Three cats poisoned, two only whiskers from StarClan, Leopardfoot nearly dead, her three kits hanging on to life like rabbits in a fox den.” He stared through her, seeming to forget she was there. “Why such a difficult birth for the Clan leader’s mate? The kits may not make it through another night. The tom is too weak to mew, let alone feed. I should help them, and yet how can I when the signs are clear?” What in the name of StarClan was he talking about? Forgetting the herbs, Bluefur backed out of the den. Only whiskers from StarClan.

When Levi told me he’d met his mate, I was thrilled for him. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s Levi. Juliet is so sweet and special. I know she’s perfect for him, and she makes him very happy. Juliet, I know you are my alpha’s other half, and together, you guys are the leaders of our clan. We couldn’t have asked for better people to keep us on the straight and narrow. As happy as I was for Levi and Juliet, I couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of their bond until I met my own mate. Now that I have, I know exactly how much Levi and Juliet love each other. With fate on your side, you don’t need luck. So, I want to end this toast not by saying good luck, but by saying congratulations.

Firestar huffed. “His name is Pinestar,” he meowed. “He was the leader of ThunderClan before Bluestar’s predecessor. He’s also Tigerstar’s father. Your grandfather,” he added, glancing at Bramblepaw (who looked stunned) and Tawnypaw (who looked equal parts incredulous and angry). “And he still hasn’t told me how long he’s been standing there.” Pinestar shrugged. “You appeared to have the situation well in hand.” Firestar stared, flabbergasted, and reached for the single phrase he could think of. He barely knew what it meant - it was a term that he remembered from his earliest days as a kittypet. But it felt good to say, and, if the affront on Pinestar's face was anything to go by, it was as effective an insult as any other. “You fucker.

Their leader looked over at me, his flawless lips in an even line, his nose chiseled to a point like an arrow aimed my way. Raven waves fell away from big eyes exhibiting more alertness in their stare than any animal or human naturally possessed. Despite how defenseless I knew myself to be, I refused to show him fear. Jovani turned back to the four members from his clan. “I won’t need backup, Percival, I have a priceless bargaining chip.” From the way the others eyed my form, I understood it was me he considered his negotiating leverage. I felt somewhat confident that meant I was more valuable alive. “This stinks,” one of the lady vampires complained. “No, Concetta, that’s just the dog.” A perky nose sniffed in my direction as they shared a trill of amusement at my expense. All but Jovani.

You never understood, did you?” Bluestar went on. “Not even when I gave you your apprentice name, Firepaw. And I doubted it myself, when fire raged through our camp. Yet I see the truth now. Fireheart, you are the fire who will save ThunderClan.” Fireheart could do nothing but stare at his beloved leader. He felt as if his whole body had turned to stone. Above his head, wind tore the clouds into shreds, letting a ray of sunshine strike down and touch his pelt to flame, just as it had in the clearing when he first arrived in the Clan, so many moons ago. “You will be a great leader.” Bluestar’s voice was the merest whisper. “One of the greatest the forest has ever known. You will have the warmth of fire to protect your Clan and the fierceness of fire to defend it. You will be Firestar, the light of ThunderClan.

BloodClan!” Princess echoed, and a shiver passed through her. “Firestar, you’re in danger, aren’t you?” Firestar nodded, suddenly unwilling to treat her like a soft kittypet who couldn’t cope with the truth. “Yes,” he replied. “BloodClan has given us three days to get out of the forest. We don’t intend to leave, so that means we have to fight them.” Princess went on giving him that long, thoughtful look. The tip of her tail swept around and touched a scar on his flank, an old wound from a battle so long ago that he had forgotten which one it was. Firestar had a sudden vision of how he must appear to her: gaunt and ragged in spite of his lean muscles, his battle-marked pelt a constant reminder of the harshness of his forest life. “I know you’ll do your best,” she mewed quietly. “The Clan couldn’t have a better leader.” “I hope you’re right,” Firestar meowed. “This is the worst threat to the Clan that we’ve ever had to face.” “And you’ll come through it; I know you will.” Princess rasped her tongue over his ear and pressed close against him. Firestar smelled her fear-scent, but she stayed calm, and her gentle features were unusually serious. “Come back safely, Firestar,” she whispered. “Please.

I, Bluestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn.” Her voice was harsh, and Fireheart thought that it was obvious that she was merely going through the motions of a ritual that had ceased to have meaning for her. Uneasily he wondered whether StarClan would be willing to watch over Cloudpaw when neither he nor his leader had any respect for their warrior ancestors. “Cloudpaw,” Bluestar continued, “do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?” “I do,” Cloudpaw meowed fervently. Did he understand what he was promising? Fireheart wondered. He was sure that Cloudpaw would do his best to protect the Clan, because these cats were his friends, but he knew that the young cat wouldn’t be prompted to act by any sense of loyalty to the warrior code. “Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name,” Bluestar went on, each word dragged out of her like thorns. “Cloudpaw, from this moment you will be known as Cloudtail. StarClan honors your courage and your independence, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.

Bluestar, don’t leave us,” he begged. “I must,” his leader whispered. “I have fought my last battle.” She was panting in her efforts to speak. “When I saw the Clan at Sunningrocks, the strong helping the weak . . . and I knew you and the others had gone to confront the pack . . . I knew my Clan was loyal. I knew StarClan had not turned their backs on us. I knew . . .” Her voice failed and she struggled to continue. “I knew that I could not leave you to face the danger alone.” “Bluestar . . .” Fireheart’s voice shook with the pain of parting, and yet his heart leaped to hear that his leader knew he was not a traitor. Bluestar fixed her blue gaze on him. Fireheart thought he could already see the shimmer of StarClan in her eyes. “Fire will save the Clan,” she murmured, and Fireheart remembered the mysterious prophecy that he had heard from his earliest days in ThunderClan. “You never understood, did you?” Bluestar went on. “Not even when I gave you your apprentice name, Firepaw. And I doubted it myself, when fire raged through our camp. Yet I see the truth now. Fireheart, you are the fire who will save ThunderClan.” Fireheart could do nothing but stare at his beloved leader. He felt as if his whole body had turned to stone. Above his head, wind tore the clouds into shreds, letting a ray of sunshine strike down and touch his pelt to flame, just as it had in the clearing when he first arrived in the Clan, so many moons ago. “You will be a great leader.” Bluestar’s voice was the merest whisper. “One of the greatest the forest has ever known. You will have the warmth of fire to protect your Clan and the fierceness of fire to defend it. You will be Firestar, the light of ThunderClan.” “No,” Fireheart protested. “I can’t. Not without you, Bluestar.” But it was too late. Bluestar sighed softly, and the light died from her eyes. Mistyfoot let out a low wailing sound and pressed her nose to her mother’s fur. Stonefur crouched close to her, his head bowed. “Bluestar!” Fireheart meowed desperately, but there was no response. The leader of ThunderClan had given up her last life, and gone to hunt with StarClan forever.

Three cats stood in the center of the camp, their fur frosted by the dazzling white light. “Who are you?” Graywing stammered. These weren’t RiverClan warriors, and she didn’t recognize them from Gatherings. She wondered how they had managed to get all the way into the camp without being challenged. The tallest of the strangers, hard-muscled beneath his brown tabby coat, dipped his head. “Greetings, Graywing,” he meowed. “My name is Runningstorm of WindClan. This is Wolfheart”—he nodded to the elegant gray she-cat beside him—“and our leader, Smallstar.” The third cat, whose tiny frame was covered in sleek black-and-white fur, looked at Graywing. His blue eyes were friendly as he mewed, “We have traveled far to see you.” Graywing looked from one cat to the other. “I don’t understand. Has something happened to Fallowstar?” Smallstar shook his head. “Fallowstar is fine. We are the cats who would have been.” Graywing stared at them in horror. The image of three terrified bundles, falling one by one into the churning river, filled her eyes. “You are the kits who drowned,” she whispered. Wolfheart bent her head. “That is so. Come, we have something to show you.” She turned and led the way across the clearing toward the nursery. Graywing followed without having to tell her paws what to do; they seemed to be carrying her on their own. Runningstorm nosed aside the bramble that was draped across the entrance to the nursery, protecting the precious cats inside. “Look,” he urged Graywing. Oh, StarClan, let our kits be all right, Graywing prayed as she poked her head inside. Had the WindClan kits returned to punish her by hurting the youngest RiverClan cats? The den smelled warm and milky, and enough moonlight filtered through the branches for Graywing to see Hayberry curled around Wildkit and Minnowkit, who snuffled gently in their sleep. Hayberry’s flank rose and fell in time with her kits’ breathing, and although her eyelids flickered when Graywing looked at her, she didn’t stir. Graywing pulled her head out. “They’re safe,” she breathed. Smallstar looked surprised. “Of course. Did you think we’d hurt one hair on their pelts? Kits are the most special part of a Clan. They are the warriors who will defend their Clanmates in moons to come, the hunters who will find food even in the coldest leaf-bare, the cats who will have kits of their own to pass on everything they have learned. A Clan that has no kits might as well be dead.

Someone needs to remain on over-watch. We don’t know when those bats will come back.”   Trenton tilted his head. “That’s already taken care of. A couple of pathfinders and your friend Dane showed up shortly after we started using the Koa to help defend it. They’ll stay here. Braden’s also sent some of his warriors to protect the poor darlings.”   He sent a wicked glance at the woman at his side. The woman rolled her eyes but didn’t contradict him.   Good enough for Shea. She slid the sword into its scabbard as Gawain did the same.   “Let’s see what Fallon wants, then,” she said, clapping Trenton on the shoulder and easing past him.   He barely controlled his wince before he followed her.   “What’s the matter? One of the bats get a little too close?” Gawain asked in a sarcastic tone.   Shea hid her grin when her guard sent the clan leader a nasty glare.   “More than a little close,” Eliza said with a sidelong glance. “When we showed up, one of them had him by the arm and was about to drag him over the cliff. Good thing we arrived when we did or else someone would have had to scrape the poor darling off the rocks below.”   Trenton gave her a dour look and Shea choked back a laugh. She could just imagine how much he hadn’t enjoyed being rescued.   “You’re getting a bit slow from your easy assignment,” Gawain said, prodding the other man.   Trenton slid a dark look his way. “You’ve seen the types of situations she gets herself into. Does this seem like a cushy assignment to you?”   Gawain gave a small shrug, conceding Trenton’s point with a small smirk.   Shea ignored the banter. She did not get herself into situations. She saw a problem and fixed it. Not her fault that things often avalanched from there.

THE WARRIOR CODE 1. Defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, as one day you may meet them in battle. 2. Do not hunt or trespass on another Clan’s territory. 3. Elders and kits must be fed before apprentices and warriors. Unless they have permission, apprentices may not eat until they have hunted to feed the elders. 4. Prey is killed only to be eaten. Give thanks to StarClan for its life. 5. A kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice. 6. Newly appointed warriors will keep a silent vigil for one night after receiving their warrior name. 7. A cat cannot be made deputy without having mentored at least one apprentice. 8. The deputy will become Clan leader when the leader dies or retires. 9. After the death or retirement of the deputy, the new deputy must be chosen before moonhigh. 10. A gathering of all four Clans is held at the full moon during a truce that lasts for the night. There shall be no fighting among Clans at this time. 11. Boundaries must be checked and marked daily. Challenge all trespassing cats. 12. No warrior may neglect a kit in pain or in danger, even if that kit is from a different Clan. 13. The word of the Clan leader is the warrior code. 14. An honorable warrior does not need to kill other cats to win his battles, unless they are outside the warrior code or it is necessary for self-defense. 15. A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet.

The ShadowClan leader looked down at Cloverfoot. She shifted on the oak root as she sat beside the other deputies. “Cloverfoot will be ShadowClan’s deputy now. Like Juniperclaw, she once turned her back on the Clans . . . But I believe that, like Juniperclaw, she is ready to serve her Clan honestly and in good faith.” “Cloverfoot!” Scorchfur was the first ShadowClan cat to call her name. Snowbird chimed in. “Cloverfoot.” “Cloverfoot.” Her name rang through the clearing as her Clanmates yowled their approval and their yowling spread among the other Clans. Alderheart dipped his head to her, pleased that she’d been chosen. She puffed out her chest proudly, and her eyes reflected moonlight as she looked back at him. Bramblestar lifted his muzzle. “Twigbranch led a patrol of cats from ThunderClan, RiverClan, and WindClan to find SkyClan and persuade them to return to the lake.” Twigbranch glanced at her paws as the Clans turned to look at her. Finleap moved closer to her as Bramblestar went on. “Despite the storm, the patrol managed to bring SkyClan back—” He broke off as cheers erupted from the watching cats. Surprise showed in his eyes. He pricked his ears, clearly delighted, and waited for the yowling to die away. “We still must settle on where they will live, but we know that their place is beside the lake with the other Clans.” Strikestone called from among the ShadowClan cats, “Land must be given equally.

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

the new leader of ShadowClan was Tigerclaw.

could have just killed her straightaway. We know they have no issue with murder. Dead, she solves their problem. Alive, she’s still a pain in their asses. But they might have sweated her for information. If she knew too much about their plan, they could still cancel the whole thing. It could have been the Clan proper. They might be trying to stop the assassination attempt and would have a reason for kidnapping Rebecca, to find out all she knew about the assassination. But I don’t see them killing her.” “Hell,” Victor said, “the police chief himself might even have ordered her kidnapping as a personal matter just to bury her knowledge that he’s a Clan na Gael leader. If that were the case, why would he let her go?” There was no denying Victor’s logic, but the most immediate thing now was the threat to Maureen Brogan and her child. “We need to get to Maureen’s now. She’s in danger. When she’s safe, we can think about Rebecca. Can you arrange for someone to stay with Maureen if we put her in a hotel with the child?” “Of course.” Conor heard Dr. Camp’s voice from behind them in the hallway. “Mr. Dolan, there’s a Detective Flynn down at the information desk. He wants to see you. Should I have the nurse let him up?” So the case is already assigned to Flynn. The last thing Conor needed now was to deal with the murderous detective. “Do me a favor, Doc. Hold him there until I can get dressed and get out of here. Victor and I will find a side door.” *** On the cab ride to Maureen’s flat, Conor tried to get into Flynn’s head. The detective landed this case either because of its relationship to Kevin Dolan’s supposed suicide or because the police chief specifically wanted him on the investigation. In either case, his objective would be to go through the motions of an investigation while protecting himself, the chief of police, and his Clan associates. He would, of course, make certain the kidnapping was never solved. At the same time, he would use the investigation to figure out how much Rebecca and Conor knew about the Clan’s internal problems. Whichever Clan group

fur pricked. Surely it was a bad idea for Onewhisker to rely on the leader of another Clan for support? And not just that—Onewhisker knew that Firestar and Brambleclaw were the only other cats who knew what Tallstar had said, and not said, when appointing his new deputy. He was relying on them to keep his secret, to be loyal to him beyond the demands of the warrior code, and support his leadership even though it might not be approved by StarClan. The two leaders made their farewells, echoed by other cats in both Clans as WindClan began the steep climb up the ravine. The ThunderClan cats stood watching them for a while; Brambleclaw noticed Leafpaw, a bunch of herbs in her jaws, looking after the departing Clan with her head tipped questioningly to one side. He wondered if something was worrying her—perhaps StarClan had warned her of trouble on the way for WindClan—but before he could ask, Firestar called his Clan together. Somehow, now that ThunderClan was on their own, the lake and the land around it seemed to stretch away farther than before, even more unknown and more threatening. Brambleclaw was acutely aware of every rock or bush that might hide an enemy. His pelt bristled. It was strange that

North Korea had an unofficial caste system called songbun in which citizens were divided into three main classes and some fifty subclasses, based on a person’s political, social, and economic background, and although they pretended that such hierarchies did not exist, this affected their social mobility. The government had succeeded in wiping out the ancient clan system and replacing it with their own; many North Koreans no longer had the support of an extended family and had no one to rely on but their Great Leader. It was hardly surprising, then, that there were no noteworthy historical artifacts left on this famed mountain, since history itself was an obstacle in bolstering the myth of the Great Leader.

Zoe is such a natural leader. I wish that was something in my family’s blood, that way maybe I could be a good leader too.” “You’re kidding, right?” Faith asked. “You’ve been one of the best leaders I’ve ever seen.” Poor Faith. If only she knew that my whole ninja clan left me to join the Scavengers.

She wondered how many lives he had left. Perhaps that’s what gave him confidence. Why did only leaders get to have nine lives? Wouldn’t it be more useful if StarClan granted every cat nine lives?

Why did only leaders get to have nine lives? Wouldn’t it be more useful if StarClan granted every cat nine lives?

problems.” “She’s right,” Jayfeather meowed, dipping his head toward the RiverClan leader. “Are we kits, play fighting while badgers attack our camp?

Beasa looked at [the Baron] with disgust and this only made him laugh. “Every new, old, or upcoming power needs a leader who will do the evil thing that must be done. To be ruthless and evil is the usual mark of a great leader. Julius Caesar? He committed genocide and slaughtered Gauls in the hundreds of thousands because he needed money from the campaign spoils to pay off his debtors—yet he was praised as a god. Artexander Pilimius? After he overthrew democracy and took his power, he beheaded an entire clan—thousands of people—because one had dared to stand up to his overbearing policies; but they were overbearing policies that were needed, no one simply wanted to implement them. He removed the threat to his power, and he ruled the whole of North and South America for forty years. The histories go on and on, but I have bored of this. Now come over here.

StarClan grants us safe passage,” Bluestar repeated stubbornly. “Go home!” snarled Mudclaw. Fireheart’s paws tingled as he sized up their opponents. Three strong cats against him and the unfit ThunderClan leader. They would not escape a fight without serious injury, and there was no way he could risk Bluestar’s losing a life—not when he knew that she was on the last of her nine lives, which were granted by StarClan to all Clan leaders. “We should go home,” Fireheart hissed at Bluestar. The she-cat swung her head around and stared at him in disbelief. “We’re too far from safety and this isn’t a battle we can fight,” he urged her. “But I must speak with StarClan!” meowed Bluestar. “Another time,” Fireheart insisted. Bluestar’s eyes clouded with indecision and he added, “We’d not win this battle.” He twitched with relief as Bluestar retracted her claws and let the fur on her shoulders relax. The ThunderClan leader turned back to Mudclaw and meowed, “Very well, we’ll go home. But we will return. You cannot cut us off from StarClan forever!

Come in!” The Clan leader sounded excited, and Fireheart’s hopes soared. Inside, Bluestar was pacing up and down the sandy floor. She didn’t stop when Fireheart entered, and he had to press himself against the wall to keep out of her way. “Fireheart,” she began without looking at him. “I need to share dreams with StarClan. I must travel to the Moonstone.” The Moonstone was a glittering rock that lay deep underground beyond WindClan territory, where the sun set. “You want to go to Highstones?” Fireheart exclaimed, surprised. “Do you know of another Moonstone?” retorted Bluestar impatiently. She was still pacing, her paws echoing in the den. “But it’s such a long way; are you sure you’re up to it?” Fireheart stammered. “I must speak with StarClan!

CHAPTER 5 The ThunderClan leader had reached

We are fundamentally social creatures - our brains are wired to foster working and playing together. Trauma devastates the social-engagement system and interferes with cooperation, nurturing, and the ability to function as a productive member of the clan... People who feel safe and meaningfully connected with others have little reason to squander their lives doing drugs or staring numbly at television; they don't feel compelled to stuff themselves with carbohydrates or assault their fellow human beings. However, if nothing they do seems to make a difference, they feel trapped and become susceptible to the lure of pills, gang leaders, extremist religions, or violent political movements - anybody and anything that promises relief.

Can you guide Jayfeather?” he asked her. “Sure.” “I can guide myself, thanks,” Jayfeather cut in with a snort. “No, you can’t.” Bramblestar stood over the scrawny medicine cat. “Jayfeather, there may be a time when it helps for you to be an uncooperative furball, but this isn’t it. The whole forest has changed because of the wind. There are fallen trees, branches scattered everywhere . . . Just let Dovewing help you, and put up with it.” Jayfeather sighed. “Yes, O great Clan leader.

This wicked woman trapped Huotu Clan in such a situation.” Shi Ying was cold, the voice was not high, but every word he pronounced was clear and spread to every soldier’s ear: “I have come here at the behest of the Emperor, to punish the evil leader, who dare to threaten and rule recklessly! The Red King has come with his troops, and the valiant cavalry of the Imperial Capital is about to arrive. Do you people still want to help do evil and fight against the Heavenly Army?” “…” On the Wasteland, three thousand iron armored soldiers were silent for a while.

Fireheart started to protest, but Bluestar ignored him. “StarClan has abandoned me!” she went on, still pacing furiously. “They told me that fire would save the Clan, but fire has almost destroyed us. How can I ever trust StarClan again—especially now? They have granted a leader’s nine lives to that traitor. They care nothing for me or for ThunderClan!” Fireheart flinched. “Bluestar, listen—” “No, Fireheart, you listen.” Bluestar padded over to him. Her fur was fluffed up and her teeth bared in anger. “ThunderClan is doomed. Tigerstar will lead ShadowClan to destroy us all—and we can expect no help from StarClan.” “Tigerstar didn’t seem hostile.” Fireheart was desperately trying to get through to his leader. “When he spoke, all he seemed to care about was leading his new Clan.” Bluestar let out a crack of harsh laughter. “If you believe that, Fireheart, you’re a fool. Tigerstar will be here before leaf-fall; you mark my words. But he’ll find us waiting for him. If we’re all going to die, we’ll take a few of ShadowClan with us.” She began pacing rapidly back and forth again, while Fireheart watched, appalled. “Double the patrols,” she ordered. “Set a watch on the camp. Send cats to guard the border with ShadowClan.” “We haven’t enough warriors for all that,” Fireheart objected. “Every cat is exhausted with the extra work rebuilding the camp. It’s all we can do to keep up the regular patrols.” “Are you questioning my orders?

Roman and I didn’t leave much room for discussion about who from our crew would go. Levi, Walker, and Hudson were a bit different. While Levi always tends to take on the leadership role, we found out real quick that there is no one leader in their clan or whatever they call it. Instead, they vote on things like our crew does. Only, this vote didn’t go the way they planned, so they ended up playing “rock paper scissors” to decide who would come today.

Whatever Ryder’s reasoning, one thing was clear. He was the leader of his people and his word was law. I just wished I knew why he was so determined to deal with Felix himself. Because I had the feeling the answer ran a lot deeper than pride or Clan superiority.

Firestar? Was this the legendary leader of ThunderClan?

The most virulent expression of narco religion is by La Familia Cartel in Michoacán. La Familia indoctrinates its followers in its own version of evangelical Christianity mixed with some peasant rebel politics. The gang’s spiritual leader, Nazario Moreno, “El Mas Loco,” or the Maddest One, actually wrote his own bible, which is compulsory reading for the troops. This sounds so nuts I thought it was another drug war myth. Until I got my hands on a copy of his “good” book. It is not an easy bedtime read. But La Familia is only the most defined voice in a chorus of narco religion that has been rising in volume for decades. Other tones of the choir include some morphed rituals of Caribbean Santeria, the folk saint Jesús Malverde, and the wildly popular Santa Muerte, or Holy Death. Many who follow these faiths are not drug traffickers or gun-toting assassins. The beliefs all have an appeal to poor Mexicans who feel the staid Catholic Church is not speaking to them and their problems. But gangsters definitely feel at home in these new sects and exert a powerful influence on them, giving a spiritual and semi-ideological backbone to narco clans. Such a backbone strengthens El Narco as an insurgent movement that is challenging the old order. Kingpins now fight for souls as well as turfs.