It was an average greenleaf morning in ShadowClan, kits playing mossball in the clearing by the nursery, carefully watched by their mothers. Apprentices trained by their dens, but the most important thing was happening at the base of the Clan Rock.

“Excuse me, Y/N, may I have a word with you?” A deep, but gentle meow sounded beside you. It was ShadowClan’s deputy, Blizzardstripe. His ice blue eyes held yours as he awaited with respectful patience for your reply.