Warriors Fan Fiction

Welcome to the new fan fiction page! Post your fan fiction in a comment box below to share it with BlogClan. Have fun and keep creating.

Nobody will stop you from creating. Do it tonight. Do it tomorrow. That is the way to make your soul grow – whether there is a market for it or not! The kick of creation is the act of creating, not anything that happens afterward. I would tell all of you watching this screen: Before you go to bed, write a four line poem. Make it as good as you can. Don’t show it to anybody. Put it where nobody will find it. And you will discover that you have your reward.

Kurt Vonnegut

(You can find the Old Fan Fiction Page here)

  22,024 Replies to “Warriors Fan Fiction”

  1. March 29, 2020 at 8:15 pm

    The night stars sparkled endlessly as shapes slithered through and eyes flickered. Far up above, an owl hooted its song, rawking danger and death. Suddenly, as if a signal was given, the shapes sprang at each other, yelling and screaming. A bracken-coloured tom flung himself onto another dark tabby, screeching. “Oakheart!” the dark tabby shrieked, “Stay away from me! Keep your distance!” The tom ignored his yowling, and sank his fangs into his shoulder. “Tigerclaw, you think I would listen to you!?” A growl rumbled through Tigerclaw’s throat as he shouted, “You’ll infect us all! You’re crazy!”


    Rusty’s eyelids got pierced by the morning dawn light, and he stretched, arching his back. Ever since the shouting of his housefolk, he hadn’t been able to go outside, and his paws were aching for the soft silky touch of the grass in his backyard. Rusty angled his ears, testing for his housefolk’s paw steps, but he heard none. Relieved, the young flame-coloured tom jumped up onto a wooden windowsill, then sprang outside. The grass was smooth under Rusty’s paws, as he padded up to sit on his fence, looking at the forest. Turning around, he saw his best friend, Smudge, looking outside his locked window, and he gave a nod to him. Rusty shivered as he landed ungracefully on the forest floor, but a thin layer of leaf mould broke his fall. He stiffened and yelped when a grey ball of fluff hit him, crashing against his rotting fence. Eyes flashing, Rusty caught a glimpse of an enormous golden tom, his amber eyes narrowed and a blue-grey she-cat. “Greypaw!” he shouted, “Stay away from that kittypet! You don’t know what he has on his pelt!” Rusty cocked his head and wondered why the golden tom would say such a thing, but Greypaw muttered something and backed away. “Now, go down to the stream and wash. Don’t do it with your tongue!” the golden tom screeched again. With a flick of his tail, the grey kitten made its way towards where Rusty guessed the stream was. His fur bristled as the muscular tom’s gaze fell on him, inspecting him. He realised that the she-cat hadn’t moved, nor said anything, and Rusty dared to take a glimpse at her. Her fur was smooth and down, she was sitting down with her paws tucked and she was looking at him as well. “Well,” she muttered, “Do you have a fever, a cough, a sore throat, or anything like that?” Rusty shuffled his paws nervously and wondered why she would ask him that, but he replied, “My flank hurts from falling, but no.” The she-cat’s eyes widened, and she asked, “Well, you’re a kittypet right? You live with Two-legs, as I can tell from that collar.” He pondered what she meant by kittypet and Two-legs, but then he thought about his housefolk. “I mean, I live with my housefolk,” Rusty replied. “Then, have your Two-legs had a fever, a cough, or a sore throat?” He tilted his head, confused, then said “No.” The she-cat whispered something quietly to the golden tom, and she pointed her ears at Rusty, nodding. He caught the words, “Fire”, “ThunderClan” and “prophecy”. Sweeping her tail, the blue-grey she-cat suggested, “In that case, would you like to join us?” Rusty’s fur stood on end, but he questioned, “Us? Are there more of you?” Sighing, the sleek she-cat said, “Us, yes. There are more of us, and we live together, in ThunderClan. We hunt for each other and take care of each other in the wild. But we need more healthy warriors. Some of us have already succumbed to the dreaded catronavirus…” Rusty dipped his head in respect, and he murmured, “I guess I could join you.” The she-cat simply blinked and led him forward with her soft tail, and the flame-coloured tom looked at her. “Come,” she said, “And call me Bluestar, your leader. You are young, but you have much to learn.” They padded through bushes and under trees, with the golden tom trailing them, talking to himself, saying things like, “ThunderClan recruiting kittypets? Oh StarClan…” Rusty blocked out his complaints, and followed Bluestar with respect, keeping his head low. Suddenly, they came to a bush, and Bluestar told him, “This is our camp, our home,” and he opened his mouth to try to scent something, but all he could smell was a faint scent of cats. Quivering, Rusty followed her into a clearing, and he spotted many cats, grooming, eating mice or squirrels, a few kits playing and some cats turned around to look at him, most hostile. He gulped, trying to hide his fear-scent, while he stayed close to either Bluestar or the golden tom, afraid of what they would say. Rusty heard long away coughs and the rustling of herbs being given around from a tangle of vines and branches on the far side of the camp, and decided that must be the warriors that had ‘already succumbed to the dreaded catronavirus’. Bluestar leapt onto a ginormous boulder in the middle of the clearing, and shouted, “All cats old enough to catch their own prey, come beneath the Highrock!” Rusty tilted his head, briefly thinking about what she was going to say, but he walked forward under the Highrock, gazing at Bluestar. “We have lost many to the catronavirus already, and we will need more warriors to keep us safe,” she began, “I have chosen one worthy of this fate. The young flame-coloured tom you see will join us. Come up here, Rusty.” He shivered as he thought how she knew his name, but nevertheless, he climbed up the steep stone wall, to join her, his claws hooking onto the pawholds. “As you can tell, he is a kittypet, but he can help us,” Bluestar continued, “We need more healthy warriors.” A beige tabby tom yelled something, and Rusty cocked his head to glare at him. “Kittypets can’t help us, Bluestar!” he was screeching, and the young tom tried to find him in the crowd, “We don’t need another soft mouth to feed!” Rusty saw him, with a few cats shouting with him, agreeing and complaining. His fur went up, and he sprang at the beige cat, screaming in rage. The cat was hit suddenly, and he backed away slowly, shrieking, “We don’t know what he carries! That kittypet could have the catronavirus!” Anger flooded through Rusty when he heard him speak, but he was hit by a wave of the beige cat, sending him to the floor, as he started pulling and pointing at his collar. “Look at this!” he growled, “It could have it, we must get rid of it!” Rusty snarled at him and tried to break free of his grip, but he couldn’t, and his breathing was being cut off. A loud snap filled the clearing as his collar broke, and it was flung across the camp, cats jumping out of the way to avoid it, afraid if it would have the catronavirus. The tabby backed off Rusty, and muttered something annoyingly, hiding in the crowd again. Bluestar’s yowl silenced the place, and she spoke again. “This kittypet has proved himself, he will now be able to join ThunderClan! Young Rusty, now I will give you your true name. From now on, you will be called Firepaw!” Firepaw beamed at his new name, and part of the crowd started cheering, calling out “Firepaw! Firepaw!” As they settled down, some warriors came to greet him, saying things like “Hi, Firepaw!” and “Welcome to ThunderClan young Firepaw!” He saw Greypaw coming towards him. “I heard the commotion! So you’re joining us now, kittypet?” he said with mocking anger, pretending to be like the beige tabby, “I saw you fight Longtail! That was awesome!” Firepaw replied, “Thanks, Greypaw!” A scream surrounded the space, as a beautiful tortoiseshell she-cat padded out of a den. A black tom with a white tail tip was screaming, “Redtail’s dead!” Firepaw looked around and saw the she-cat pulling a tortie tom, with scars all over him, and it looked like he was coughing until he realised that he was dead. Greypaw gasped and he whispered to Firepaw, “That’s Redtail, the deputy! Spottedleaf just dragged him out of the medicine-cat den! What…what is Ravenpaw doing?!” Spottedleaf was telling cats to stay away from Redtail, as she took him to the side of the camp. Ravenpaw, the black tom, shivered and shrieked, “He has the catronavirus!” His small voice echoed through the silent clearing, and cats fainted and bristled. A muscular dark tabby was grumbling, “That idiot Oakheart! How dare he! He bit him in the shoulder, and he was coughing! He has spread it everywhere! The catronavirus will kill us all!” All hope was drowned out of Firepaw, as he backed away into the bushes, and he sprinted.

    should i continue this? 😛

    catronavirus 😛

    don't look at me like that


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