Rain Carrier

[Drivenwind]

DustClan

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Medicine Cat: Magicflash- White and golden she-cat with amber eyes and a black-tipped tail

Warriors: Milkweed- White she-cat with blue eyes

Queens: Slivertail- Gray Siamese she-cat with amber eyes

Apprentices: Rustedpaw- Liver-colored tom with dark brown paws and green eyes
Moonpaw- Silver tabby she-cat with blue eyes
Swirlingpaw - Brown tabby tom with a lighter underbelly and green eyes

HayClan

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PoolClan

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RidgeClan

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NOTE: Characters will change as the story continues.

[Drivenwind]

Each Clan has their own special way of doing something.

DustClan: lives in a dry, deserty area. In times of drought, although all Clans get little water, DustClan recieves the least. So they have made a reservior to collect all their water.

HayClan: lives in, like DustClan, a deserty terrain, except this ares has much more dry grass. Not exactly dry grass--hay. They use hay instead of moss; it is easier to find in this deserty place, and it is found to be more durable than moss.

PoolClan: still has desert, but along with that, has a tropical oasis in their camp. They have the advantage of mirages. When a cat wanders in, they will sooner or later see a mirage. While the cat is in the stage of confusion, the PoolClan warriors will take it by surprise.

RidgeClan: has a mountanious territory. Though it is harder for them to get to the Gathering, they have an advantage during the drought season: The little rain that falls always falls on their territory; it is higher than the other Clans' terrtiories, which are actually below ground level. Instead of drinking when it collects and forms a stream, they actually hold their tongues out and drink while the rain is falling.

[Drivenwind]

Water dripped from above his head. Just two droplets, but they seemed like a steady stream, slipping down, into his mouth. But they did not come, even though he held out his long, dry tongue. Instead, it was caught up from the towering tongue.
A soft whimper escaped the apprentice, as he longed for water as much as any other feral cat. The worst part was that this was his mother. Mothers usually put their pups before themselves. But all grown she-cats knew that they should put themselves before an orphan.
Desperately, he pawed at the she-cat’s gray belly, mewing helplessly for water. But she just flicked her ginger tail, pointing towards a mouse carcass another apprentice was chewing on. Of course, meat can support water for an animal; the animal that became prey had drunk water before, and it was stored in its body. It was different in this case, though. Most of the cats’ prey had died of dehydration; there wasn’t any water in their bodies.
As the dark brown apprentice slumped over to the carcass, the eating silver she-cat mewed, “Hi Rustedpaw.” At this, he nearly jumped out of his fur. A lowly ranked orphan like him could have received a hiss or even a bat with sheathed paws, a grumble at the least. But this wasn’t any of those rude comments. It was actually a greeting.
Although his ears kept flicking nervously, he stammered, “H-hello Moonpaw,” and started to dip his head, only to obtain a batting on his ear. Usually, he would get batted on the head, and bats on the ear were playful ones. Those angry strikes were usually followed by a hiss, but this one was ensued by laughter.
“Rustedpaw! What’re you doing? I’m no leader,” the silver she-cat laughed.
“I-I’m… I’m sorry,” he mewed, looking sadly at the ground.
She just laughed again. “There’s nothing to be sor—Wah! Mamma!”
In an instant, Moonpaw was scooped up by a thick-furred silver she-cat. “Moonpaw,” she hissed, “how many times have I told you to stay away from those rogues?”
“But Mamma, Rustedpaw’s not a rogue,” the young apprentice mewed, struggling in her mother’s tough grip.
With a growl, the warrior laid her daughter down on the dry dirt and snatched the mouse carcass right before Rustedpaw was about to take a bite, crunching on the bones through her hard grip. “Dare you share with a Clan born cat,” Milkweed scolded coldly after placing the carcass by the female apprentice.
“Excuse me… I think I’m Clan born,” the tom squeaked.
“Foolish apprentice,” she hissed, “your father’s dead and the Clan has no idea who your mother was; she’s probably a rogue.”
“No, my Mamma’s right there, and I have a good Daddy,” he mewed pointing to the gray Siamese named Slivertail with his tail. But the warrior bared her teeth, and he was forced to depart to his mother, having no idea what Milkweed was talking about. He thought she was kind of crazy.
“Mamma,” Moonpaw cried, not touching her food, “but I like Rustedpaw. He’s nice.”

[Drivenwind]

Every day, a patrol went out to search for water. The water that was found was stored in a small reservoir located in a marshy part of DustClan camp. The reservoir was made by cats, dug out by cats. These DustClan felines had a smart way of storing water, better than moss, where it could easily dry up.
One or twice a week—depending on how much water was collected—cats received a share of the water. High rankings and elders received the greatest share, warriors and queens received the second most, then there were apprentices who got less, and kits that got a little bit, while orphaned cats, lame cats, or some other low ranked feline got barely anything, but it was still liquid. Today, Slivertail had stolen his few drops, which were transported by moss or clumps of dry grass. But cats often fight over their share of water, or steal from helpless kits—as Slivertail had portrayed a good example of—resulting in torn moss and no water.
This happened often to Rustedpaw; Magicflash was surprised how the young tom was still alive.