He woke up in the middle of a forest. Sunlight shone through the leaves, spattering the ground in light. He looked down and around his body. Dark grey fur with lighter tabby stripes. There was a belt around his furry waist and a backpack that felt empty.

He stood up and took a curious step from the clearing he was in. Immediately he fell over, due to a short pickaxe hanging from his side. He licked it curiously, tasting a jolt of electricity, if he could call it that. Copper?

"Hey," somebody said. The cat whipped his head up to see a dark brown tabby with amber eyes. He had no pack alongside him, except for a box of thin tbark. Ink was scrawled all over it. "Who are you?" he asked, taking a step towards him.

The grey cat thought for a moment, eyes of an unknown colour alight. A random thought came to his mind. Blades.

That could work. It definitely could. "What about Blade-" He was cut off as something whirred through the air, burning up leaves as it went. The only thing saving him from obliteration was the space of a rabbit-length. He stopped in his tracks, eyeing the five-cornered shape closely. A star? "Blade...star?" he said, tentatively sniffing at the burning star.

"Going like that, huh?" The cat leaped over the star like it was nothing, and dropped his box of bark down onto the thick grass. He opened it, looking at every single scribble on it like he could actually understand it. "Well, it's been a while since I saw any TerraClanners around. Any more of you?"

Bladestar looked around the completely untouched grove, and coldn't help but smile at the private world that was all his. He couldn't even remember anything about himself, let alone know what else could be around. "No," he said finally. "No there aren't."

The brown cat gave a lighthearted smile. "No worries then. We'll just bring the others together around here. We'll just need some housing, light, protection from the..." He broke off, looking at the pink dawn sky with worry. "Well, I'm Craftstripe," he says. "We'd better build a house."

Bladestar looked at his surroundings. The beautiful clearing, the long grass, the white rabbits that were beginning to lope around mushrooms. But there wasn't something to make a den under in sight.

"There's nothing to do it with," Bladestar said, eyes scanning the area to double-check.

Craftstripe chuckled. "See these trees?" He motioned with a lash of his tail to the entire forest surrounding him. He then pointed to the heavy backpack on Bladestar's back. The stone-grey cat twisted his head to see a utensil that looked like it was made of copper and a twig. "See that axe?"

It finally clicked in Bladestar's head. "But it's so nice around here!"

Craftstripe scoffed. "Well, tell me if sentiment keeps you safe from demon eyes."

Slipping the leather backpack off of him, Bladestar's jaw hung open. "Demon eyes?"

"Killer sonsabitches. But anyways, start chopping!" Craftstripe motioned with a flick of his head.

Bladestar looked at him dumbly.

The brown tabby sighed in exasperation. "We're losing daylight. Just put the axe in your mouth and swing."

Bladestar did as he was told. He walked to the closest, tallet tree, and started digging his axe into the trunk. It took a couple of swings before Bladestar turned around. "Why aren't you helping?" he asked through the wooden handle.

"No axe," he said simply. He held his bark box open, eyes tracing over the scribbles. "Get enough of this wood, and you could build a better sword. But you should focus on wallls, doors, and torches." he recited.

Bladestar raised his ears. "Torches?" It sounded like Tawshs, but the message should have gone through.

"Course. You just need a-Holy shit!" Craftsripe yowled, leaping away from a gelatinous mass on the ground. The green thing wiggled for a moment, jiggling about like a piece of bad twoleg food. Then it leaped at Bladestar, hissing.

Bladestar swung his axe at it, knocking it back only an inch. It shook what must have been its head, and then jumped again. This time, Bladestar was unprepared. The thing hit his fur, and Bladestar shouted in pain. Whatever ooze that thing was made out of burnt like a pepper. He shook it off his fur and looked at Craftstrip expectantly, trying hard to dodge to leaps coming from it.

Craftstripe flipped through page after page of his thing. "The book says to use your copper claws!" he said. "Come on!"

Looking at his pack on the ground, Bladestar rummaged through the one main pocket in it. There really was nothing, save two pairs of glove-like paw sheaths with orange coppery points on the end of each paw. He used his jaw to put them on hastily, and slashed at the slimey thing as it leaped into the air.

It broke apart, most of the ooze burning up into thin air. Bladestar panted as he stepped close to the only remaining part of the ooze. "What the-" He touched it slowly, putting a claw to it. It seemed... Dry?

Craftclaw looked close to the dry ooze. "So that's what gel looks like," he murmurs. "Well, good for you, Bladestar of TerraClan. Once we cut down this grove, we'll have enough to build a safe house."

Bladestar pursed his dark lips and picked his axe up from on top of the pack. He undid his claws and dropped them inside the pack's pocket. And keeping an eye out for more of those oozey slime things, he kept chopping the wood.