Clayclan

Branches creaked under Resinstar's weight as the young tom heaved himself higher and higher. By the time he had reached his canopy perch, the cats milling about the camp below were little more than mice. He panted, but from exhilaration rather than exhaustion. Resinstar was far from tired. Perhaps a little dizzy and more than a tinge unnerved by just how far he had climbed and how the curling grey branches had complained as he stepped on them, but the view that greeted his amber eyes was worth it. A great deal of Clayclan's, admittedly small by some clan's standards, territory was visible to him and a delighted purr rose in the tom's chest as he discovered that he could recognize little landmarks. There were the copse of oaks that marked the border between his territory and Jinxclan's. There was the river bend beyond which lay Soulclan and Leafclan. And there was- wait, Resinstar had never seen that boulder before. The leader inched forwards along the branch, craning his neck to try and get a better look at the moss-covered mass in the middle of the beech forest. He should have remembered stumbling across a rock that large- he would never have been able to resist summiting it. A part of him itched to explore it right then and there. To launch from the branch and land upon the boulder's crown. From where he stood it seemed only a paw-width away, he could make it. Thankfully as the limb groaned beneath him a more sensible side of Resinstar took control and instead of pulling a very foolish, and as Claywhistle would say, a very Frostsong move, the tom inched back to the crook of the branch and settled down.

"You don't need to be up here you know. The clan is only four cats, you can address them from the ground. That's what my mom always did."Claywhistle, who had seemingly materialized besides Resinstar, sounded wistful. Resinstar was so used to his friend popping up in the oddest of places that he didn't even startle. "I know," the orange tabby protested, but in truth he had nearly forgotten his reason in climbing the tallest beech in the Clayclan camp. "Just thought I'd take a leaf out of somebody else's book." A grin met Resinstar's pun and teasing mew. "Branch out you mean?" "Exactly." The two toms sank into companionable silence. Resinstar turned his attention away from the territory and instead to the cats who dwelled within it. Through the thinning canopy of Leaffall, the leader could see Gustpond tutoring his apprentice. They seemed happy and relaxed, batting at falling leaves and plowing through piles of dead foliage. Resinstar was glad, when Mottledpaw had first joined up he had been concerned over how she would settle in. She had been distraught upon learning that this was Clayclan and that the Beechclan she had grown up bordering no longer existed; falling clans were becoming a staple in the young apprentice's life. Thankfully Gustpond had been there. The tom seemed to understand exactly what the shecat needed- maybe it was because Stormripple and Flaxpool were family. In any case, Resinstar was glad for their relationship. And then there was Driftstep. The medicine cat was by her den, deep in conversation with the air besides her as she sorted. She appeared concerned, but then again she always did. Resinstar couldn't remember a moment when the shecat wasn't looking over her shoulder, but maybe she would calm down with time. The leader couldn't help the sense of pride mixed with apprehension that welled up in his chest. Maybe their clan was little and odd and a little broken but with time it would grow into something beautiful, and Resinstar couldn't wait to see that. He straightened his shoulders and padded forwards, the proper words springing to life on his tongue. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather under the Hightree…"