Warrior Cats Clan Logo Novels & Stories

I stared at the building, my eyes following the big black flag hanging from the very top with what was the clan banner embroidered on it. It was the embroidery of fangs with two crossed swords and a feral eagle head in the middle, cool and terrifying. After standing there for some time, my legs itched to move but not back into the carriage, they itched to move away from the carriage and into town. And I let my legs lead me against my own will with puppy Orian threading behind me as thrilled as ever.

The head warrior declared. The Crystal Moon Pack erupts into cheers and applause as Beta Logan emerges as the winner. “Warriors, Step forward! It's time to showcase your skills in combat,” I declared and they all stepped out. They were paired in twos. Ocean Moon Pack and our Pack were paired together and I felt Ryan, The head warrior would do a good job. The warriors from each pack squared off their muscles and we watched as they started sparring. “Bring it on!” “You're no match for me”

Emily took a sip of fruit juice and asked: "That... is there anywhere in human society that your tribe feels uncomfortable with?" "I don't know." Ron smiled: "Our tribe, the Cat Clan, has been living in harmony with human society for a long time. As long as we don't want to, humans cannot discover our identities. Of course, if we encounter a special mage who knows how to catch supernatural creatures, it can be a bit troublesome, but if we have enough power, we don't have to worry about anything." Emily furrowed her brow: "Then why... Oh, never mind."

A cigarette was sticking out of his mouth, and his Beta stood by his side, watching me with narrowed eyes. Todd has never been too fond of me. It's probably because he's a misogynistic bastard who's bitter. After all, the strongest warrior in the pack is a woman—a woman who put his sorry ass on the ground a million times. What the hell was what, Regina? Why would you announce another raid on the Moon Crescent pack in front of the warriors without informing me? I looked like an idiot! I had a right to know! Last time I checked, the mate to the Alpha shouldn't necessarily be informed of things of this severity.

He revealed. "Hmmmm!" I hummed. The Iron Claw Warriors were the sword of the werewolf kingdom. They were the werewolf king's army and they were usually led by warrior leaders. The Iron Claw Warriors were to directly participate in the war and Erbot was also a warrior and one of the four leaders of the Iron Claw Warriors.

The fire had taken. He placed a torn banner at my feet. The emblem was unmistakable—two wolves, crowned, back to back. House Vellore. One of the oldest bloodlines. One of the most brutalized by Sebastian’s purge. Their response had not come in words but in war paint and steel. I signed sharply, my fingers cutting through the air. “Are they with us?” Dorian nodded once. "They’ve called the banners. The Red Cliffs will rise by next moon."

You can only see them on their arms if their coat is off and so far I haven’t seen anyone wearing their coat. On the chest of their shirt and coat is an insignia and it shows how far they are within the ranks. Those that have just started out have no marking on their chest, those that made Warrior have a combination of a star and a wing in a circle on their chest. There are five ranks within the Warriors, if you are a second-ranked Warrior there is a star above the circle and with each rank that you go up, you gain another star. The maximum is four stars above the circle and if you manage to make Squad Captain, it will be underneath the circle.

The morning of departure dawned clear and cold, the first true chill of autumn frosting the grass of the Nightclaw clearing. Lira stood at the head of the largest force the territories had assembled since the march to the Black Mountain. The banners of the Compact snapped in a brisk north wind — Ironmaw's iron fist, the Western Pact's silver tree, the Eastern Enclave's crescent moon, the Southern Refugees' interlocking paws, and a new banner, added just the previous night: Nightclaw's own dark wolf silhouetted against a field of stars, stitched by the paws of elders who had watched Lira grow from a frightened pup into a leader.

"You could be very dangerous." "That's what Alba said. I don't want to be dangerous, but I don't want cats coming here and hurting anyone either. It seems I've adopted you as my family and I'll do whatever I can to protect you. If my mind can do that, then I'll use it." "I'm surrounded by warrior women. I thought Alba was bad. With the two of you, the other clans will be in trouble." "Explain clans to me. You are pack. The cats are pride. Where does clan come from?"

In his mind, he was echoing the words: until then. Greko Bluzul looked at Rostam Clawmark. With one nod from the latter, Greko Blazul jumped from the high stone he was standing on, shaking the ground near him as he bellowed a roar, signifying the start of the war that would mark the history of the wolven race. Howls of the very few members of the Alliance were made louder by the addition of the women and men who refused to betray their beliefs. 'Kid, you are a new member of the clan, right?' A spotted wolf nudged the only small one in the line of defense.