This is a path that you follow alone.

Tigerkit was nagging his mother. "Why can't I go out?" "You've just come in." "But it's a sunny day." "You need a nap." "I'm not tired." "You will be later." "I'll sleep then." "But you'll be grumpy all afternoon if you don't nap now." "No, I won't." "Yes, you will.

Good-bye, Graystripe. I love you. Take care of our kits.

There will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws.

Fireheart tensed, waiting for whatever had hunted down these apprentices to emerge from the trees and attack, but nothing stirred. Feeling as if his legs hardly belonged to him, he sprang down and stumbled across to Swiftpaw. The apprentice lay on his side, his legs splayed out. His black-and-white fur was torn, and his body was covered with dreadful wounds, ripped by teeth far bigger than any cat's. His jaws still snarled and his eyes glared. He was dead, and Fireheart could see that he had died fighting.

Being Tigerstar's son has meant I've had to win the trust of every ThunderClan cat over and over. So I know how frustrating it is when you have to prove something that shouldn't need proving.

Tigerkit! Have you been eavesdropping again?" Tawnypelt glared at her dark tabby kit, but it was easy to see the fondness in her eyes.