“Welcome to our camp!" Blackstar called, beckoning them with his tail. "Rest here and take your pick of the fresh-kill pile."
"Who are you and what have you done with Blackstar?" Lionblaze muttered.”
“All she's caught is fleas! She's a medicine cat, not a warrior. She should be helping me, not trying to pretend that her entire history vanished on the day the truth came out.”
“Don't be scared. I'll look after you.”
“Your mother betrayed my father as well as her Clan. You have no right to be a medicine cat. No right to even live among the Clans. I'll never forgive you for what you've done! Never!”
“Oh, and welcome to the Three.”
“After the sharp-eyed jay and the roaring lion, peace will come on dove's gentle wing."
- Warriors,Omen of the Stars,The
Fourth Apprentince”
“Sedgewhisker appeared farther down. “We need to get out”
“I know what it's like to have a power no other cat understands. It's the loneliest feeling in the world.”
“Let me know if you have any more, okay? Oh, and welcome to the Three.”
“It’s coming,” Jayfeather whispered. “A battle between StarClan and the Dark Forest, and every warrior will be called upon to fight.”
“There is a prophecy, Dovepaw,” he began. “There”
“And I was normally a pretty emotional person. In any given day, I experienced a hundred different things like I was trying ice cream flavors.”
“Things are NEVER what they seem, Pa, I thought. I used to think they were, but I was wrong or stupid or blind or something. Old folks are forever complaining about their failing eyesight, but I think your vision gets better as you get older. Mine surely was.”
“Take what you can have. Rejoice in what you can save, and do not mourn your losses too long.”
“I have sometimes thought that the mere hearing of those songs would do more to impress some minds with the horrible character of slavery, than the reading of whole volumes of philosophy on the subject could do.
I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meaning of those rude and apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the circle; so that I neither saw nor heard as those without might see and hear. They told a tale of woe which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension; they were tones loud, long, and deep; they breathed the prayer and complaint of souls boiling over with bitterest anguish. Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance from chains. The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness. I have frequently found myself in tears while hearing them. The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek. To those songs I trace my first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing character of slavery. I can never get rid of that conception. Those songs still follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my sympathies for my brethren in bonds. If any one wishes to be impressed with the soul-killing effects of slavery, let him go to Colonel Lloyd's plantation, and, on allowance-day, place himself in the deep pine woods, and there let him, in silence, analyze the sounds that shall pass through the chambers of his soul, - and if he is not thus impressed, it will only be because "there is no flesh in his obdurate heart."
I have often been utterly astonished, since I came to the north, to find persons who could speak of the singing, among slaves, as evidence of their contentment and happiness. It is impossible to conceive of a greater mistake. Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy. The songs of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by them, only as an aching heart is relieved by its tears. At least, such is my experience. I have often sung to drown my sorrow, but seldom to express my happiness. Crying for joy, and singing for joy, were alike uncommon to me while in the jaws of slavery. The singing of a man cast away upon a desolate island might be as appropriately considered as evidence of contentment and happiness, as the singing of a slave; the songs of the one and of the other are prompted by the same emotion.”
“Why me?" she asked, holding on to him.
"Because you cared," he whispered. "You cared so much for your people, it broke your heart to see the pack in ruins. You cared so much for your mother, you risked your life for hers. You cared enough to save someone who wanted you dead. And because you walk like a queen.”
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