Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fan fiction. I do not own any rights to Warriors.

Rated: T

Author's Note: Second chapter up already! I'm really enjoying writing this story. When I first read Moonrise, I must admit that I wasn't too fond of the Tribe of Rushing Water, even after the trouble with Sharptooth (that name always made me think of The Land Before Time!) was over. But now, I find myself liking the unique names of all the Tribe cats, and their customs. I'm quite interested in finding out why Brook and Stormfur decided to leave.

One thing I do wonder, however...would all the Healers be called 'Teller of the Pointed Stones', or would they have names like 'Teller of Shining Water' or 'Teller of Moonlight' and so on?

Oops! Rambling again. xD On with the story!

CHAPTER TWO

When the hunting party returned to the cave, dragging their catch, the Tribe's Healer, Teller of the Pointed Stones, greeted them warmly. "Well done, all of you," he meowed. "It is good to see so much caught-prey."

The patrol added to the already large pile the eagle, three mice, and a couple of rabbits. Ashfur's spirits rose. There would be plenty for every cat at the evening meal.

He looked around the cave, and saw a warm glow in the eyes of the other cats. Perhaps he truly did belong in the Tribe. He felt Sootfur press reassuringly against his flank, and Ashfur gave his ear a swift lick and purred. They would make a new life for themselves among the Tribe. They would belong.

"Greetings, Clan warriors."

Ashfur turned to see a broad-shouldered tom standing nearby, a friendly gleam in his eyes. The muddy streaks had been partially washed away, revealing gray tabby fur. However, Ashfur didn't recognize him. "Hello, um...?"

"Lone Tree on the Hillside," the cat, obviously a cave-guard, replied. "But you may find it easier to call me Lone."

"Pleased to meet you, Lone. I'm Ashfur."

"And I'm Sootfur."

"Yes, I've heard about you," Lone meowed. He had gentle, dark blue eyes that seemed to be two pools of calm. Ashfur's first impression was that Lone was rather laid-back. He reminds me of Graystripe. he thought, with a familiar pang of sadness. Graystripe was with StarClan now. "And I'm glad there is another tom couple in the Tribe."

"Er," was Ashfur's awkward reply.

"I'm in such a couple myself," Lone explained. "My mate's name is Dusk That Hides the Fox."

"Really?" Sootfur meowed, sounding surprised. Ashfur could understand. He definitely doesn't seem like Lone's type.

The cave-guard nodded. "I'm sure you can appreciate how strange it is, being the only tom couple in a whole Tribe. There are she-cat couples, but no other toms are together."

"Yes," Ashfur replied. "That's...that's why we left our Clan. We weren't accepted."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lone mewed sympathetically. "No cat should be driven from their Tribe -- or Clan -- for being different. But I'm not sorry you've joined the Tribe. You both seem suited to our life here in the mountains, even if you are as yet unfamiliar with it."

"We'll do our best to help the Tribe," Ashfur assured him.

"That's all we ask of our cats." The cave-guard rose, nodding to them. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it is my turn to guard the entrance to our cave. Goodbye Ashfur, Sootfur."

"'bye," they replied as he padded away. Sootfur stretched, shaking the last bits of water from his pelt. "How about we go get some fresh-kill, Ashfur? Or, well, I guess we'll be calling it caught-prey from now on." He wrinkled his nose at the awkward word.

Ashfur let out a purr of amusement, flicking Sootfur's ear with his tail-tip. "Don't forget the ritual," he meowed. "We have to share it."

"I wonder what the significance of the custom is?" Sootfur wondered aloud as they chose prey.

"There's a story about it," a black she-cat answered from Ashfur's other side. When the two Clan cats turned to her, she meowed, "Sorry for interrupting, but I thought you might like to hear it."

"Sure," Ashfur meowed. "How about we take our prey over there and you can tell it?" He flicked his tail toward the wall of the cave, where a group of stones rose from the floor in a rough semi-circle.

The she-cat nodded and the three cats carried their meals to the group of stones. Ashfur took a bite and passed the young kestrel to Sootfur, who gave him his rabbit in return. Ashfur chewed slowly, looking expectantly at the queen.

"I know your names already," she meowed. "But I don't think you've met me before. I'm Shade Where Mouse Hides. Or just Shade."

"Pleased to meet you, Shade." Ashfur dipped his head, then remembered the formal gesture that the Tribe used. He felt embarassed as Shade blinked at the Clan greeting. "Are you a cave-guard or a prey-hunter?"

"I'm a prey-hunter," Shade replied. "I just completed my training two moons ago. Brook Where Small Fish Swim taught me."

"Brook's a good prey-hunter," Sootfur meowed warmly. "You were lucky to have been mento -- I mean, taught by her."

"Yes." Shade took a bite from her mouse, chewing slowly. The Tribe cats eat so slowly, and much less than Clan cats, Ashfur thought. It must be because of the scarcity of prey in the mountains.

Shade took a deep breath before beginning the story.

"Many, many moons ago, long before Stoneteller was Healer of the Tribe of Rushing Water, there was much prey. Tribe cats had so much prey that we grew almost fat off of the birds and the mice and the rabbits that make their homes this far above the forests and fields where most of their kind dwell. We were envied by other Tribes for our rich hunting territory. We fought off many attackers, but it was easier for us because we had the food, and they were weak from hunger.

But then, a Tribe from the low lands that had been driven out by creatures that walked on two feet came, and saw that we had much prey. This Tribe came from far away, and spoke a strange language that the Tribe of Rushing Water did not understand. They had their own customs, and their Healer knew of strange plants that we had never heard of before. They were unused to the cold and the harshness of our territory, but they could not return to their own home, so they tried to take our's from us.

"There was a long, fierce war, with many casualties on both sides. But the Cave was a safe place; its entrance was easily defended, and they could not get us in here. Only when we ventured out were we vulnerable to attack. The Cave was safe, yes, but we could not get out to take prey. Our sanctuary had now become our prison.

The kits and elders fell ill and began to die, one by one. The prey-hunters and cave-guards were weak and exhausted. The Healer did everything he could, supplying everyone with herbs that strengthened them and warded off hunger until he ran out. Then the cats began to die. Someone had to do something soon, or everyone would perish.

"Then the Tribe of Endless Hunting spoke to a young prey-hunter named Raven on Silent Wings. They told him that he alone could save the Tribe, and that he must face great peril to bring food to the starving kits.

"So Raven ventured out into the snow and darkness, sneaking past the enemy Tribe. In the night he caught much prey, bringing it back just before dawn. Then, one at a time, each cat took a single bite before passing the piece of caught-prey on to the next cat. It would have to do until more prey could be caught.

"Raven was the only cat brave enough to risk death at the claws of the enemy to bring food to the Tribe. He did this every night for a time, but he grew tired. He was working too hard, forcing his body every night to hunt prey and carry it home to feed the starving Tribe. He fell ill, but ignored the sickness, continuing to serve his Tribe, until at last he died.

"But his actions gave the Tribe's cave-guards and prey-hunters the strength they needed, and they vowed to fight in the name of the brave young prey-hunter. They launched an attack on the enemy Tribe, and after a long, hard battle they forced them off the territory. Sorely wounded and weary, the Tribe left the mountains and were never heard from again.

"But ever since Raven brought food for the Tribe, we have taken a bite from our prey before passing it on, reminding ourselves every meal of his brave deed. And every season of frozen-water, we have three days when we fast and reflect on the war-time. Then, at sun-down on the third day, we have a feast in honour of Raven on Silent Wings' memory. We call it the time of the giving of thanks."

When Shade had finished, Ashfur blinked. He had taken fresh-kill for granted until the moons before the Great Journey began, when all the Clans had nearly starved. This story related to the Clans in a very personal way, and Ashfur felt as if he had lived through the Tribe's hard times. The story of Raven on Silent Wings would stay with him for a long time, he knew.

"That's a beautiful story," Sootfur whispered in awe. He looked at Ashfur, who saw his own feelings reflected in the pale gray warrior's soft amber gaze. "I never thought of your custom of sharing that way."

Shade's gaze softened. "I am glad that my Tribe's history has so touched you," she meowed. "It is good."

Ashfur looked down at his half-finished prey, and closed his eyes for a moment. Thank you, Raven on Silent Wings, he thought. May you rest well in the Tribe of Endless Hunting. He felt a shiver run through him from ears to tail, and thought he heard a soft voice meow, Welcome to the Tribe of Rushing Water, Ashfur of ThunderClan.