“Oh, and Mistyfoot? Never trust the shadows. My warriors wear the night like second pelts. If you wrong ShadowClan, you will never be safe in the dark.”
RiverClan
RiverClan Facts
Leader: Mistystar
Deputy: Reedwhisker
Medicine cat: Mothwing
Hunting territory: The lake and streams
Camp: Overgrown island in a stream
Unique battle skilclass="underline" Water combat
Reedwhisker’s Welcome
Intruders, Silverpaw? Are you sure? Oh, Onestar, it’s you. What are you doing on this side of our territory? Great StarClan, that’s a long walk for a pair of kittypets. Here, bring them down to the shore so they can cool their pads in the water. Are you joining WindClan? No? Then why…?
I see. You want to know the secret behind RiverClan’s strength in battle. Well, you are up to your bellies in it right now. That’s right, water. Water feeds us, cools us, and keeps us safe from foxes, dogs, and curious Twolegs. It gives us the power to choose whether we fight or not, knowing that few cats are brave enough to swim across our borders to attack us. Some say we are too quick to hide behind our barricade of streams, but it’s easier to call us cowards than admit we have an advantage over all the other Clans.
We can slide out of rivers like fish with fur, silently flooding the shore before our enemy knows we are there. You may look at my Clanmates and see only sleek, glossy fur as thick as a kittypet’s, but look closer and you’ll find strong legs that can carve through water and tails that steer us through the swiftest currents.
Have you seen how we hunt? Not with speed or stealth or pounces, but with lightning reflexes, scooping fish from the lake while they drowse below the surface. How would you like to feel these claws raking over your spine? In close combat, RiverClan cats are the most feared among all the Clans because we can hold our enemy down and rake their bellies until they beg for mercy. If the ground is too open for close combat, we’ll lure our enemies to the shore and drag them into the water to fight there. Other cats’ fur quickly becomes sodden and heavy, pulling them down, but our fur sheds water like the feathers on a duck. We stay light and nimble, freed by the water rather than trapped by it. Our rivals don’t stand any chance of winning when the lake fights alongside us.
So don’t listen to the other Clans when they say we are proud, lazy cats who unsheathe our claws only to catch our food. They fear us because we have water as our ally. And because of all the Clans that ever lived in the forest or by the lake, we are the only one never to have been overrun against our will. That is real strength, young kittypets.
Special Battle Tactic: The Rushpaw Splash
RiverClan fish! RiverClan swim! RiverClan warriors use water to win!”
The line of apprentices stopped chanting as they halted on the bank of the stream with their paws sinking into the soft brown earth. Mistystar looked proudly at them. She’d trained apprentices before, but being the RiverClan leader made her feel even more connected to these young cats who would fish and swim and fight to protect future generations.
“Into the water!” she called, and the four apprentices scrambled down the bank and waded into the gently flowing water.
“Ooh, it’s cold!” whimpered Rushpaw, trying to stand on tiptoe to keep her belly fur dry.
Her littermate Tanglepaw snorted. “Don’t be such a scaredy-mouse. You won’t notice it after a while.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Rushpaw grumbled. “My legs are way shorter than yours. You’re hardly wet up to your knees!”
Mistystar flicked her tail. “Rushpaw, would you like to run ahead and tell the enemy exactly where and when we’re planning to attack? Perhaps you’d like to invite them to strike first?”
Rushpaw put her head to one side. “What would be the point of that? I thought you said we’d be learning about surprise attacks today?”
“That’s what she’s trying to teach us, fluff-brain,” hissed Pikepaw. His dark gray fur bristled along his spine. “But you’re making such a fuss that every cat from here to the mountains knows where we are!”
Rushpaw looked down at the surface of the stream and flattened her ears. “Oops. Sorry.”
Mistystar tried not to let her amusement show in her voice. “Thank you for reminding us, Pikepaw,” she meowed out loud. “Today we’re going to pretend that this stream is the lake, and the far bank is the border of one of the other Clans. All the territories slope down to the shore, but you’ll rarely find border patrols there because the other Clans don’t see water as a point of access. Why does this give us an advantage?”
“RiverClan fish! RiverClan swim! RiverClan warriors use water to win!” the young cats shouted.
“Exactly. Now follow me, and make sure only your ears, eyes, and nose show above the water.”
Mistystar jumped down the bank and slid into the stream. The water flattened her fur, cold and comforting and lifting her gently off her paws. She let herself sink until only her muzzle peeped out, tipping back her head to keep her eyes and ears level with the surface. Pushing off with one hind paw, she let the current sweep her into the center of the stream, using long, graceful strokes to propel her between the banks.
The apprentices struck out behind her; twisting her head, Mistystar saw Pikepaw sink so far down that only the tip of his nose was visible. She hoped he could still see where he was going.
Rushpaw and Tanglepaw’s littermate Duckpaw held herself higher in the water, but she swam strongly, without splashing. Tanglepaw looked as if he were putting in more effort—probably because of his long fur, Mistystar guessed. It took a while for a RiverClan cat’s fur to become glossy enough to shed water like a duck’s feathers, and Tanglepaw would be weighed down as it became sodden. Behind him, Rushpaw paddled frantically as she tried to keep up; her legs were below the surface, but Mistystar could tell she was struggling, because her head bobbed from side to side and her tongue peeped out as she panted for breath.
The stream curved between banks shored up with tree roots and then opened out beside a broad, sandy shore. Mistystar used her tail to steer her toward the beginning of the shore and bent her legs as soon as her paws brushed the bottom of the stream, staying in a crouched position to slip quietly out of the water. “Follow me,” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t want to hear any of you leaving the stream!”
She stood halfway up the shore, facing inland, listening for her apprentices. A whisper of droplets told her that the first cat had emerged. That was fine; a border patrol would pay no attention to that. Heavier pads on the sand gave away Tanglepaw’s exit, but masked any sound of Duckpaw.
Now they were waiting for Rushpaw.
“Ow!”
The muffled yelp was followed by a splash. Mistystar spun around to see Rushpaw vanish headfirst under the water, then bob up almost at once, spluttering and thrashing with her front paws.
“I stubbed my toe on a stone!” she wailed.
Pikepaw curled his lip and Tanglepaw rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Rushpaw, you’re hopeless!”
Rushpaw stumbled out of the water and stood on the sand, tilting back her head to glare at her brother. “I am not hopeless! I’m just a lot smaller than you!”