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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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)

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.

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.

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?

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

A united clan is greater than a divided army.

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

Killed by Blood, the leader of BloodClan.

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

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?

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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 any apprentice. . . .

I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these three apprentices.

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.

Conall must have joined the morning hunting party. His willingness to assist others and volunteer his time to another clan endeared him to her even more. If Heldreth’s words were true—if he did desire her for more than a passing fling—could she ask for a kinder, more generous and selfless man to court her than the leader of Clan TalWolthe? And did she even want another to try?

Harespring dipped his head respectfully. “Greetings, Bramblestar. We’ve come to ask for ThunderClan’s help. We need a medicine cat.” Bramblestar was silent for a moment, his gaze flicking from Harespring to Crowfeather and back again. “You need a medicine cat,” he repeated. “You’re asking for our help, after Onestar insulted me when I came to offer my help with the stoats?” “We’ve had more trouble with them,” Harespring responded. “Many of our cats are injured.” Bramblestar hesitated for a heartbeat, then turned to Squirrelflight, who had padded up to stand at her leader’s shoulder. “I don’t want any cat to suffer,” he meowed. “Fetch Leafpool and Jayfeather, please.” As Squirrelflight left, Bramblestar faced the WindClan cats again, giving his whiskers a disdainful twitch. “Tell me exactly what happened.” Harespring hesitated, casting an uncertain glance at Crowfeather, who could share his tension, knowing what Bramblestar’s reaction was likely to be.

Bramblestar was the first to break the silence. “Tell me if I have this straight,” he began; his voice was soft, but every word bit as hard as a fox’s fangs. “I went to Onestar to offer ThunderClan’s help in driving out the stoats. Onestar insulted me and my whole Clan, and insisted he would take care of the problem himself. His plan was a disaster, because he did not have the problem under control, and now he’s sending you to ask for ThunderClan’s help. Is that correct?” Harespring was obviously finding it difficult to meet the ThunderClan leader’s gaze. “Yes,” he mumbled at last. “I want to hear you say it,” Bramblestar growled. “I want to hear you say that Onestar’s decisions got his Clan into trouble and he needs ThunderClan’s help.” Harespring’s only response was to cast a helpless glance at Crowfeather. You wanted to do the

Bramblestar nodded agreement. “Then Breezepelt and Crowfeather will try to infuriate the stoats—” “They should find that really easy,” Jayfeather put in. His Clan leader gave him a stare from narrowed eyes. “Thank you, Jayfeather,” he mewed, an irritated edge to his voice. “As I was saying,” he continued, “Crowfeather and Breezepelt will infuriate the stoats enough to draw them out of the tunnels, where the warriors will be waiting for them.

I would tell you a tale, brother. Early in the clan's history, many centuries past, there arose, like a breath of gas from the deep, a new cult. Chosen as its representative god was the most remote, most distant of gods among the pantheon. A god that was, in truth, indifferent to the clans of my kind. A god that spoke naught to any mortal, that intervened never in mortal affairs. Morbid. The leaders of the cult proclaimed themselves the voice of that god. They wrote down laws, prohibitions, ascribances, propitiations, blasphemies, punishments for nonconformity, for dispute and derivations. This was but rumour, said details maintained in vague fugue, until such time as the cult achieved domination and with domination, absolute power. Terrible enforcement, terrible crimes committed in the name of the silent god. Leaders came and went, each further twisting words already twisted by mundane ambition and the zeal for unity. Entire pools were poisoned. Others drained and the silts seeded with salt. Eggs were crushed. Mothers dismembered. And our people were plunged into a paradise of fear, the laws made manifest and spilled blood the tears of necessity. False regret with chilling gleam in the centre eye. No relief awaited, and each generation suffered more than the last." "What happened?" "Seven great warrios from seven clans set out to find the Silent God, set out to see for themselves if this god had indeed blessed all that had come to pass in its name." "And did they find the silent god?" "Yes, and too, they found the reason for its silence. The god was dead. It had died with the first drop of blood spilled in its name." "I see, and what is the relevance of this tale of yours, however modest?" "Perhaps this. The existence of many gods conveys true complexity of mortal life. Conversely, the assertion of but one god leads to a denial of complexity, and encourages the need to make the world simple. Not the fault of the god, but a crime committed by its believers.

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 any apprentice.

Firestar made ThunderClan what it is now,” he meowed softly. “I’ll always try to follow his example. I hope I’m half the leader he was.

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.

Baba Yellowlegs was a leader—a queen to her clan,” Mort went on. “When they destroyed the Crochan family, they joined with the Blackbeaks and the Bluebloods in the Ironteeth Alliance. They still honor those oaths.

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.

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

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?

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.

One blow to his shoulder unbalanced Tigerstar. He fell on his side, exposing his belly, and Scourge’s vicious claws sank into his throat. Blood welled out as the smaller cat ripped him down to the tail with a single slash. A desperate scream of fury erupted from Tigerstar, then broke off with a ghastly choking sound. His body convulsed, limbs jerking and tail flailing. For a heartbeat a stillness settled over him, and Firestar knew he was falling into the trance of a leader who loses a life, to wake after a little while restored to strength and with the rest of his lives intact. But not even StarClan could heal this terrible wound. Scourge stood back and watched coldly as Tigerstar’s body convulsed again. The dark red blood kept on flowing, spreading across the ground in a ceaseless tide. Tigerstar let out another shriek; Firestar wanted to cover his ears so he didn’t have to listen anymore, but he was frozen to the spot. Again the massive tabby’s body grew still for a heartbeat, but again the wound was too terrible to yield to the healing trance. Another spasm seized Tigerstar’s body. His claws tore up clumps of grass in his agony, while his screeches turned from fury to terror. He’s dying nine times,

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.

Yes, O great Clan leader.

weirdos kept popping around our camp, talking about it and about a whole lot of crazy things, things like white zombies, white endermen, rooms filled with crates filled to the brim with diamonds and emeralds and a city built with nothing but gold and diamond bricks. For a while there those rumors got me thinking.” Micah said. “So why didn’t you go for it? I mean, you already had a clan and stuff.” I told him.             “It wasn’t that easy. I brought it up to the guys but they didn’t really believe the thing was true. I didn’t want to push the matter further. I didn’t want them to believe that I was some loony, so I gave up on it. I was the clan leader and I couldn’t afford to lose my clan’s respect. I never forgot about these rumors, though. After I respawned, before I met up with Jerry, I wandered through the woods for a while. I stumbled across some players. They were new, had

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

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.

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.

Crowfeather suddenly felt some cat’s gaze boring into him. He turned to see Jayfeather sitting at the edge of the group of cats, his blind blue eyes fixed on him. As he met that compelling stare, hardly able to believe that Jayfeather couldn’t see him, the ThunderClan medicine cat rose to his paws, swishing his tail angrily. “If WindClan wants to deal with WindClan’s problems, fine,” he hissed. “We should leave now. We tried.” “But it’s not that easy,” Bramblestar responded patiently. “If whatever is in the tunnels is a threat, it’s a threat to both Clans.” Turning to Onestar, he added, “You have the right to make decisions for your Clan, but no right to make decisions that will endanger mine.” “That’s right!” Lionblaze agreed, his golden tabby fur beginning to bristle. Crowfeather felt an anxious flutter in his belly at the sight of his son defending the cat who raised him. And I think they’re right, he mused. Does that make me a traitor to WindClan? When he turned back toward the two Clan leaders, Bramblestar was meowing, “I insist that you work with me to deal with this threat.” Briefly Crowfeather closed his eyes, feeling his pelt prickle with anxiety at Bramblestar’s obvious inexperience. If he’d had dealings with Onestar before, he would know that’s the worst thing to try. Onestar won’t let any cat force his paw. Onestar’s calm air of superiority vanished entirely at Bramblestar’s words. His tabby fur bushed up until he looked twice his size, and he laid his ears flat against his head. “You can’t insist that I do anything,” he snarled. “I feel sorry for ThunderClan, stuck with you as leader, when every cat knows the bad blood you’ve inherited.” Crowfeather couldn’t repress a gasp. Onestar must have really lost control to let himself mention Bramblestar’s evil father, Tigerstar. Glancing at his Clanmates, he saw that they were gazing at their leader with wide, shocked eyes, as if they, too, couldn’t believe what they had just heard. It’s not fair to Bramblestar, Crowfeather thought. He only came here to offer his help.

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.

Older still than Rhys as king of the Welsh faeries is Gwynn ap Nudd. He is known as the monarch of the Welsh underworld (Annwn) in the myths of the Mabinogion; later he was seen the leader of his own tribe or nation of faeries, the Plant Annwn (the family or clan of Annwn) or, in Christian interpretations, ruler of hell and overlord of all the demons. Amongst his supernatural subjects are numbered the Welsh lake maidens, the gwragedd annwn, and the ‘hell hounds’ called the cwn annwn, which Gwynn is said to lead in a ‘wild hunt’ of lost souls, riding a black horse.

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.

The Bible was read in a cruel way. And prayer that was elaborate and phony filled the air. Even Little Lisa was forced to pray as a punishment. "Repent, for you are evil! Lisa, you pray!”, the cruel voice resounded., "You are the one who needs it!" Terrible resentment toward Richard, the leader of this clan of people, who was also Lisa's father, filled Lisa's mind and heart. She wanted him dead before he could hurt anyone again. And this horrible Bible that he read in his cruel, snarling voice? Lisa hated it, too. The unending mental torture, called "prayer", that Lisa was commanded to participate in as a condemnation for her wickedness brought a barrier against the God to whom she was forced to pray. She hated that "God" as well.

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.

Leaders of Israel, bring forth your clan heads from all the twelve tribes!” The twelve clan leaders stepped forward with trepidation. They knew this could not be good. “Hear O Israel, Yahweh our God is a holy God! And these leaders of the clans have not exercised their authority in honor of Yahweh’s holiness! They have allowed Ba’al worship to thrive amidst their tribes!” The twelve clan leaders looked at one another in fear.

Dawnstar, the former ShadowClan leader who had given a life to Raggedstar. “I give you a life for honor,” she told Brokentail. “Honor is expected from all cats, but most of all, from a Clan leader. Use the honor of leadership carefully.

Tail held high, Brokentail’s tiny sister pattered forward into the circle to stand beside him. “I give you a life for love of kin,” she mewed, the wisdom in her voice startling Yellowfang as it came from so small a body. “And as Clan leader, remember that every Clan cat is your kin.

Elephants are one of the few species in which the importance of aging is slowly being acknowledged. During a 1993 drought in Tanzania, the elephant clans led by the oldest females suffered far fewer deaths than those with younger matriarchs— the herds needed leaders old enough to remember the distant waterholes that their own elders had led them to during droughts in the past. To maintain a mental map of those lifesaving pools requires the continuous presence through the centuries not only of adult elephants, but elderly ones— severe drought strikes Tanzania only every five decades or so, and elephants’ maximum life span is about sixty-five years.

Commence the judgment of Yahweh.” Joshua called forth a contingent of the army that had been situated by the side of the tabernacle. They came forward and grabbed the clan leaders. They dragged them over to a clearing and took twelve-foot long pikes and impaled the leaders on them. They hung them in the sun for all to see, that Yahweh might turn away his wrath.

Of all the great bodies of ancient Irish legendary lore, none other, with the possible exception of the Red Branch cycle, has had such developing, uplifting, and educational effect upon the Irish people, through the ages, as the wonderful body of Fenian tales — in both prose and verse, rich in quality and rich in quantity. Fionn MacCumail (Finn MacCool), leader of the Fian (Fenians), in the time of Cormac MacArt, is the great central figure of these tales. Fionn and the Fian were not figments of the ancient poets’ fancy — as think some who know of this lore only by hearsay. The man Fionn lived and died in the third century of the Christian Era. The Four Masters chronicle his death on the Boyne, under A. D. 283 — though he must have died some years earlier. Fionn’s father Cumal, was chief of the Fian, in his day; and his grandfather, Treun-Mor, chief before that. In contrast to the Red Branch which was of Ulster, the Fian was of Munster and Leinster origin.[19] Connaught with its Clan na Morna contributed largely to the body, later. It

As they pushed through the swinging steel doors, a bullet smashed into Aleks’s back. He grunted and snapped his pistol around to face the threat. The smoking revolver was held in the shaking hand of the Yamaguchi-gumi clan leader. “I’m on your side, fuckhead,” Aleks snapped, pushing the revolver down with a gloved hand and entering the industrial-size kitchen.