A/N: This was written for the What's In A Name challenge, posted by Hunter Of Sacred Dreams. As always, it is off of the Warriors Challenge Forum. Hope you all enjoy!
My name is Finchstar and I am the leader of MountainClan.
Many years ago, I took a small group of cats and departed from the four Clans of the forest...
"And where do you think you'll go, Finchfall?" Thunderstep questioned, his voice mocking. "Hmm? What Clan do you think will take you in?"
Despite the fact that she was terrified of the larger tom, Finchfall managed to hold herself straight. She was afraid, yes, but she couldn't show it. Not now. not to him - this tom that had caused her so much pain, so much torment.
"I won't be going to any of the other Clans, Thunderstep." When Finchfall spoke, her voice was level and calm sounding. So different from the real whirl of emotions in her heart. "I'll be leaving here. To a place where you nor any other cat can ever follow me!"
The large, grey tom snorted. Narrowing his dark blue eyes at the smaller warrior, he swished his tail from side to side and took a slow step foreward. "Oh really? And you really think that will work? That you, of all cats, will be able to just vanish? Please. I've heard better ideas from the kits."
Anger surged through her and she unsheathed her claws, digging them into the soft ground at her paws. She hated that. Hated that every cat knew about her failures - about how difficult everything was for her, how she just never seemed to get anything right. Even her leader looked at her and saw that, that and nothing else.
Finchfall, he'd named her. Then he'd looked at her with his pointed amber eyes, silently questioning her as to whether she understood.
Like she wouldn't.
Like she hadn't heard the disdain in his voice and seen the laughter in her Clan's eyes.
Finchfall, because they never thought she would amount to anything. Nothing but failure.
Well she'd had enough of that! No more would she let the other cats look down on her for something she couldn't help! She was better then they were in more ways than one, even if those ways weren't in fighting or hunting. And, despite what her former mentor said, she would leave. And she would survive.
With that thought in mind, one of survival and nothing more, Finchfall narrowed her eyes at Thunderstep. Then she turned, head held high, and vanished into the undergrowth.
As I travelled, searching for our new home, I met up with many other cats.
It didn't take more than a few days to realize that just dissapearing would be harder than she thought. As of yet, nearing the fourth sunrise away from ThunderClan, Finchfall had yet to even leave the Clans territories.
How could she when she didn't know where to go? Finchfall wanted more time
When she didn't know how to hunt outside of the lush forest? Even then, she was barely able to catch enough mice to feed herself.
When every turn seemed to lead her into more and more danger? Foxes in WindClan. Unknown territory in ShadowClan. Water that she couldn't swim through in RiverClan.
All around her was danger - but, despite her fear and uncertainty, she had never felt more alive. So Finchfall took a chance and left the make-shift nest that she had made in the root system of one of the many forest trees. ShadowClan held the territory that was most similar to ThunderClan and so she went there.
Finchfall was just nearing the edge of ShadowClan territory, dark pelt aiding her treck through the shadows, when she spotted them. Two vibrant ginger she-cats, huddled together under a hawthorne bush. Their pelts were matted with blood and dirt, wide eyes filled with fear. One of them, the smaller of the two, was frantically trying to press a swathe of cobwebs against the larger she-cats side.
Even from the distance, Finchfall could see the scarlet stain that soaked through the fragile webbing.
Emberbloom and Poppyflame, a warrior and a medicine cat of ShadowClan, had just been outed as half-blood cats. Mother, a recently deceased ShadowClanner. Father, an unknown rouge. Shadestar had no use for them, she had said, and they were chased from the camp as if they were nothing more than scavengers.
And, really, who was Finchfall to leave these two cats alone?
Loners.
"I don't think this is a good idea, Finchfall." Fogpelt whispered, her voice almost too soft for the other she-cat to hear.
Finchfall offered the former RiverClan cat a warm look, resting her almost black tail across the grey she-cats shoulder blades. She understood Fogpelt's worry. This cat was a loner. Someone that had never heard of the Warrior Code and would most likely never even think of following it.
But he was also starving and wounded and walking with his tail dragging behind him, as though he had just given up on trying. Finchfall couldn't continue on without at least offering to the bedraggled tom.
"It will be fine, Fogpelt." Finchfall assured, and then she pushed her way out of the patch of undergrowth she'd been hiding in and out into the open.
Immidiatly, the black tom swung around to face her. His eyes were wide and his upper lip pulled back into a snarl, claws unsheathed and body lowered as though he were about to pounce. There was also the unmistakable scent of fear coming from him, and that was something that no amount of aggression could hide.
"I won't hurt you." Finchfall promised, and she found herself wondering why she didn't feel scared of this unknown tom. It was a question she'd been asking herself a lot lately.
Why aren't I afraid?
Perhaps it was the way his dandruff ridden coat clung to him. The skin was tight against his sides, showing a clear view of his ribs, and the area of his hips looked almost concave. Fangs had yellowed in age and bad health left a sheen of uncertainty flickering in his amber eyes.
It brought pity to the surface of Finchfall's heart, not fear.
"What do you want?" He snarled - backing away slowly even as the words left his maw.
Finchfall made no move to follow him. She just flicked her tail once, motioning for Fogpelt to come out of the bushes too. She waited until the grey she-cat had joined her, and they stood side by side, before speaking.
"I wanted to offer you freedom. A home where you don't have to be afraid. Where you won't be hungry. Just safe and warm and loved." The dark pelted she-cat said, and there was warmth in both her voice and her eyes. "All that I ask of you is your name."
For a moment, the tom looked like he was still going to leave. Then he seemed to relax - muscles unbunching and fur once more laying flat.
"My name?" He echoed. Then he gave a slow blink, as though he were trying to remember. As if it had been so long since anyone had used it, he wasn't completely sure of it anymore. Then finally, "They call me Scratch."
Rouges.
In the moon that it took to cross through RiverClan's territory and the marshland beyond it, guided both by Fogpelt and Scratch, Finchfall made it a habit of picking up the stray cats that she found. A former warrior here, a loner there, a small kit abandoned by his mother. They were all welcome in her rag-tag band of misfits. They were all loved.
Her group of warriors and hunters, because she had assigned all of them one job or the other, quit asking her if she was sure. Finchfall was always sure - and it seemed, at least to them, that she had an unnatural ability to tell the good strays from the bad ones.
Not once did they question her judgement. Not since she found Scratch, who had turned out to be a better fighter than any of the warriors that had previously joined their group. He just couldn't hunt, even if he tried.
Fogpelt and Chestnut, another loner that had joined them, more than made up for his lack of skills in that department.
They didn't question Finchfall again until the white tom - the one with more muscle than fat and hatred shining in his dark green eyes. They were almost black, Emberbloom found herself thinking, as though night itself had made a home there.
This snow-pelted tom saw them before they saw him. Only when his claws were digging deep into Chestnut's shoulders did they even realize that he was there, hidden amond the white-washed stones that made up the strange land they now walked through.
Chestnut screeched - and then it was all a blurr. How they managed to wrestle the strange cat off, they weren't sure. They just knew that it took both Scratch and Fogpelt to hold him down, and even then his thrashing claws were dangerous.
Finchfall went over to him only after she had checked on the golden-brown she-cat. Her eyes were full of disdain, her steps wary.
"What is the meaning of attacking us like that?" She demanded.
For a moment the tom did nothing but writhe underneath the paws of the two warriors. Then he stilled and turned his anger filled gaze onto the unannounced leader.
"I smell the Clans on you!" He snarled. "Foxhearted cats! Liars, the lot of you! I'll kill you all before you get the chance to kill me!"
"Why would we want to kill you?" Finchfall asked.
"Don't play stupid with me, warrior." The tom growled. "I know why you're here. Sent by Mousestrike to finish me off, no doubt. Killing my mate wasn't good enough for her, eh? She has to kill me too?"
"I don't have any idea what you're going on about." Finchfall told him. Then she waved her tail in the direction of Chestnut, whose back had been stained crimson but was more angry then injured. "And niether did she. You owe us an apology, stranger, for wrongfully attacking us. We aren't here for your hide."
"Liars!" The tom screeched and he lunged foreward, the sudden movement throwing his captors off balance. Paws scrambling, he forced his way out from beneath their paws and made a bee-line for one of the near by rocks. Then he spun around, hackles raised, and let out another growl. "The lot of you are liars!"
Finchfall's group tensed, and she could smell their rage and their unease, but she didn't move. Just stared at the white cat with an even gaze.
"You say a warrior killed your mate?" She questioned. "I don't know anything about that. But, if you're willing to stand down, I wouldn't mind learning of it."
The tom didn't let his gaurd down but he did answer, voice filled with anger and hurt and regret. "Mousestrike just wanted Ottershine's position. When I saw what she had done, the rotten piece of mouse-dung blamed it on me! She killed my mate, my Ottershine, and then she had me exhiled from the Clan for a crime that she commited. You're from the Clans. If you aren't here to kill me, why are you here?"
"To find a new life, away from the Clans." Finchfall explained. "Where their prejudiced minds can't hurt us. Where we'll all be safe and free. If you want, you can come with us. Even if you stay here, I would appreciate it if you at least give us your name."
The white pelted tom didn't move, didn't relax, but he did answer. Name nothing more than a grunt, barely heard over the suddenly whipping wind. "Icetalon."
Her Clan questioned her, asked her if she was sure that it was a good idea, but they didn't argue. And later, when they met up with the pack of dogs that roamed this stone covered field, they were grateful for her choice.
Kitty-pets.
After they left the stone-field, most wounded but all alive, they found themselves thrust into a world of rock nests and two-leg monsters. Every turn brought a strange sight. Every corner brought a new fear.
For days, the group of cats lived in the shadows. They travelled only at night, where the light of the glowing sticks that lined the thunderpaths was the only thing that could give them away. There weren't any stars here, the sky to clouded with smog and two-leg disease to give off any warmth.
They were all afraid - even Finchfall, though she tried hard not to let the others notice that. Prey had never been as scarce as it was then. Often, they were forced to rummage through the shining metal things that the two-legs filled with rotted food.
"Such odd things, two-legs are." Finchfall muttered to herself, voice only loud enough to be heard by her own ears. Of course, even if it had been louder, there was no one around to hear it. She didn't like sending the others, her make-shift kin, so deep into this place. She didn't like coming here herself.
There just hadn't been any other choice. It was either come here, where the cat-scent was strong, and ask for help...Or starve.
Finchfall refused to let these cats starve. So she forced her dark fur to lay flat and continued on, walking along the wooden barricade that lined the stone nest. Over the roar of monsters, still on the move even though night had fallen, she couldn't hear much of anything. The acrid odor of two-legs was strong enough to block out most scents.
She didn't realize that she'd found the cat she was looking for until he had jumped off of the wooden post, landing neatly in front of her.
"Who are you?" The kitty-pet asked, tilting his light silver head to the side. A thick, blue collar around his neck jangled as he did.
Finchfall took a step back, out of instinct, not fear, before answering. "I'm Finchfall. Are you the kitty-pet that lives here?"
"Kittypet?" The tom asked, giving a confused blink. "I guess. I mean, I do live here. We'll, we do. That's my sister, Snowflake."
Finchfall followed his gaze to the top of the fence, where a small, white she-cat was perched. Her dark eyes, one blue and one amber, seemed to shine down on her. The she-cat made no move of coming down or even speaking - and, once again, Finchfall was reminded of why every one hated the two-leg place.
Turning back to the silver tom, Finchfall gave a slight incline of her head. "And you?"
"I'm Jasper." Said the tom, and there was a determination in his voice then that caught the former warriors attention.
Cats with no hope of living. I collected each one, helping them to pick up the pieces of their shattered life.
"That's right." Finchfall purred. "Arch your back just like that, Jasper."
The silver tom gave a purr in answer. He moved his paws foreward, just slightly, and let his shoulders drop. The position felt awkward to him, with his hips still in the air and tail held out to just above the ground.
But Finchfall said that he was doing it right, so he listened.
Beside him, Leafpaw was trying to mimic the position. The small, calico she-cat had been found when she was just a kit, abandoned by her parents in the same rock field that Icetalon had been living in. With her twisted and malformed hindlegs, the task was almost painful.
"Is this right, Finchfall?" Leafpaw grunted out, body stiff in concentration.
When Finchfall looked at the young she-cat, her gaze softened. She couldn't help but feel nothing but kindness towards the apprentice. Despite the difficulties she faced, she never gave up.
Even when no cat thought she would live this long.
Even when every day propsed challenge after challenge.
Even when nothing came easy for her.
Leafpaw never gave up, just kept her head held high and struggled foreward.
Another purr rising from her throat, the dark pelted she-cat closed her eyes and nodded. "You're doing great, Leafpaw. Just great."
Why? Because my own life was shattered, long ago. I had no one to believe in me. To give me a second chance.
As they traveled, the terrain around them changed. The further they got away from the two-leg jungle, the more trees cropped up. One here, one there, until an entire forest had sprung up around them almost over-night. The land was famliar feeling, even though Finchfall had never been there before.
It reminded her of ThunderClan. Of the life that she had left behind and the reason that she started this journey. But it didn't remind her of home - because that Clan had never been home, not for her.
Every day, she was forced to get up and train under a mentor that didn't care for her. Never told the proper techniques for hunting, never given the patience needed to properly train her. Granted, Finchfall hadn't been the perfect apprentice.
But it wasn't her fault.
She just had so much energy and Thunderstep made everything sound so boring. Hunting took too much concentration for her, and her mentor didn't care to explain battle moves in a way that made sense.
So she just never learned. Never got better. And each day, when she would return with no prey and no new moves learned, she was forced to watch her Clan-mates scorn grow. No one offered to help. No one cared.
To them, she was just a burden. Just another mouth to feed.
That is why she did this. Gathered this cats together, even though they are all as different as night and day. And when she looked out at them each evening from her perch on a low-hanging branch, memories of ThunderClan swimming in her mind, she felt nothing but pride.
So I gave these cats the chance that I never recieved.
As we travelled together, we grew strong.
We grew in numbers and, with that, our trust seemed to multiply.
There was not a cat in that group that I wouldn't give my life for. I was lucky though, I was one of the few to make it.
"Emberbloom!" Finchfall yowled, but she knew that the warning would come too late. She knew that there was nothing that could be done for the ginger queen, not now. Not with the adder-beast readying itself to strike.
Unaware of the danger, Emberbloom spun around to face the cat that she called a leader. Dried leaves flew up from around her paws, being grabbed by the wind and taken off to who-knows-where. On instinct, the she-cat took a single step foreward.
"What is it, Finchfall? Is something wrong?" Emberbloom asked, head tilting to the side just slightly.
The dark she-cat opened her mouth to call out, to tell Emberbloom to just stay still, but it was too late. The ginger cat was padding towards her, bright green eyes alight with concern. One step, then two, then three - and then it was too late for anything more.
The large, adder-like creature uncurled itself from the bush it had been hiding in. In a movement almost too quick for Finchfall to see, it struck. Two large, pointed fangs dug themselves into the tender flesh of Emberbloom's shoulder. The ginger she-cat let out a screech of pain and tried to spin around, claws unsheathed, and swipe at her attacker, but the adder-beast was too quick. It pulled it's head back into the bushes and waited - in seconds, whatever venom laced its fangs had brought Emberbloom to the ground.
It hurt, even though Finchfall was not the one being attacked. She had seen so many cats fall to these creatures, the ones that looked like adders but weren't. They were bigger. Smarter. Stronger, and not a single cat had survived its bite.
Niether Poppyflame nor Lilyshine, the two medicine cats that had left the Clans with her, could explain it. Just that it was deadly, no matter what the treatment was.
Emberbloom let out another pained yowl, her body convulsing on the ground. There was foam forming around her mouth, agony in every movement.
And Finchfall could do nothing, not even put the young she-cat out of her misery. That was the adder-beast's plan, after all. It waited until another cat came to help and then it struck them both - for what purpose, they did not know. Prey, possibly. Territory, maybe. Pure malice? That was a possibility too.
Behind her, one of the dark green bushes rustled. A light silver head pushed its way through the tangled branches, broad shoulders following. The new cat glanced around the forest-floor in front of them, dark amber eyes finally resting on the now still form of Emberbloom.
"Emberbloom!" He yowled, and then he forced his way through the rest of the bush, moving towards his fallen mate. "Emberbloom!"
"No!" Finchfall hissed, eyes widening in panic. Without thinking, she threw herself in front of the tom, using her body as a barricade between him and the hidden danger. "Jasper, back up!"
"Finchfall, what are you doing?" Jasper meowed, fear in his voice and in his eyes. But he listened to the other she-cat, taking a few steps back towards the bushes. "Emberbloom needs help!"
"We can't help her now, Jasper." Finchfall meowed, letting the fur along her spine lower. "She's gone."
"Gone?" The tom echoed, and he looked so lost and alone. Like everything he'd lived for had just been taken from him.
Finchfall gave a slight nod, body relaxing as she realized that the tom wasn't going to make another mad dash towards his fallen mate. "I'm so sorry, Jasper. I couldn't get to her in time."
Jasper's eyes were still wide when he looked up at his leader - but there was trust in them, and she knew that he understood. "Finchfall...What about our kits? Who will raise them?"
The dark pelted she-cat didn't need to even think before she answered. "We will, Jasper. As a whole. They will not be left alone and they will not be abandoned. I promise you that."
To where? Why, to the mountains of course. Far from our old home, away from any other cats.
Here, in the snow-covered peaks, among the cold stones, we made a new life.
We created MountainClan - and we have lived there for a long time, now. Long enough that I was getting on in years.
"This is it." Finchfall said, and there was a note finality in her voice. After all this time, after all this suffering, she had finally it. "This will be our home."
In front of her, half-hidden by snow crusted rocks and the shadows they created, a long crack ran through the side of the mountain. It was roughly three fox-lengths tall but no wider than the average cat. Even with the darkness that lay a veil over it, she could tell that is was far larger on the inside.
Predators, no matter what they were, would not be able to fit inside. Her cats would be at peace inside of it.
Behind her, ears pricked foreward and eyes on her, stood the cats that had survived the journey. They were weathered and tired, but they did not regret following Finchfall. This mountain was their home now, and the kind-hearted she-cat that led them their was one they trusted with their lives. If she said that this cavern would be where they lived, they would not argue.
For a few moments, the group just stood there. Gentle flakes of snow fell from the sky. A soft but cold breeze ruffled their pelts. Then Scratch let out a purr and pushed his way through the crowd, moving until he was standing beside Finchfall.
"It's perfect." He purred - and when the dark she-cat looked at him, she no longer saw the starving loner that they picked up at the start of their journey. She saw a warrior, brave and strong. "Home. I never thought that I would be able to say that, Finchstar."
Finchfall reared back in surprise, turning her wide eyes onto the tom beside her. "What?"
Scratch just tilted his head, black pelt already stained white. "If this going to be our home, we'll need a leader won't we? And that's what the Clan-cats call their leaders."
"Me?" Finchfall asked, baffled.
Behind her, Snowflake let out a mrow of laughter. Frostkit, Littlekit, and Cloudkit echoed her voice. Whitekit just stared up at Finchfall, dark blue eyes wide.
"Of course you, Finchfall!" The former kitty-pet purred. "Who else would we have as our leader? Jasper? You're the only cat here that I would trust enough."
"But -" Finchfall started to protest but cut herself off. What was she doing? Telling these cats that she led here, away from everything that they had ever known, that she wouldn't lead them now? That they had to find someone else to do the job? The very thought was ridiculous. So she bowed her head instead. "I would be honoured to lead you."
I learned many things during that time.
"Prey is so scarce up here..." Icetalon meows softly. His dark green eyes raked across the vast expanse of snow and rocks that make up their home, each dip in the ground providing them with a new challenge. There were few trees to be seen - and they offered no protection from the snow, for cat or prey.
Beside him, Finchstar gave a grave nod. He was right, of course. The rabbits that hid among the snow were thin and lanky, the white-tinged mice barely offered a mouthful. Sometimes they were able to catch one of the large birds that flew overhead, hawks and eagles and a kind even larger then they, one that Scratch called a falcon.
The underground stream that ran through their cavern-camp gave them no fish.
The deer-kits that they sometimes saw were almost too quick to catch.
The large horned goat-kits they sometimes preyed on lived higher in the mountains.
Sure, her Clan had enough prey to keep them fed and healthy...But if a storm hit and drove even a few of those creatures away, then they would all starve. And who would be to blame but herself?
"I wish that there was some way of keeping it safe." Finchstar said, and at Icetalon's confused look, she nodded away from them. "The prey, I mean. If we could figure out a way to keep predators from getting it and to stop it from rotting, then we wouldn't have to worry. No storm would ever drive us away from here."
"That's genius, Finchstar!" Icetalon meowed, eyes lighting up in a way they seldom did.
Finchstar blinked and tilted her head at the tom. "How so? It's nothing but the startings of an idea, Icetalon. There's no way of actually accomplishing it."
"What if there was?" Icetalon demanded, turning to look off at something in the distance. "What if we could do that?"
"Then we'd be set." Finchstar said. She didn't understand what her deputy was hinting at, at first. Not until she walked closer to his side and followed his gaze - right to the large rock pile a few fox-leaps away from the camp entrance.
At least four stones were there, stacked precariously on top of each other. A heavy layer of snow coated there tops and blanketed the hollows and nooks that they formed. It was almost like a miniture version of a den.
"The snow...Wouldn't it keep prey from rotting for longer?" Icetalon questioned.
Finchstar nodded, a purr rising up in her throat. "And the rocks would keep anything from getting it! It's perfect!"
I learned that, to survive, you must be strong. And here, in MountainClan, we are strong.
"I call all cats strong enough to survive the cold of the mountain and brave enough to cross the snow to gather here, before me, at the Prey Rock!" Finchstar yowled. Her voice, jubilant and strong, echoed through the snowy range that had become her home.
In a single bound she leaped on top of the group of rocks that served both as a storage area for prey, and for a meeting place. A moment passed before she could make out the shape of cats leaving their camp - the darker pelts standing out against the stark white ground, the lighter pelts almost blending in completely. The queens and kits weren't allowed to leave the camp, but she could make out the soft glow of their eyes as they gathered around the crack in the mountain wall.
She waited until all of the cats had taken their proper places, Icetalon at her feet and the apprentices in the front row, before starting to speak again.
"I've called you all here today for a very important announcement. Three of our apprentices have proven themselves worthy of their warrior names and, beneath the sun that gives us life, I wish to grant them that." Finchstar meowed, and though her words were serious, there was a certain tinge of life to them, too. "Flamepaw. Silverpaw. Flowerpaw. Please join Icetalon."
The small, ginger tom was the first to get up from his seat. Though he shared Emberbloom's, his mother's, pelt his physique was closer to Jasper. Small bodied but lean, capable of bringing down the very birds that hunted them.
Silverpaw, who was almost identicle to her father in all but personality, was at Icetalon's side the moment her brother sat down. Her light silver fur was just shy of blending in with the snow-crusted rocks, but her green eyes shone with an intelligence that set her apart from her siblings.
And then there was Flowerpaw - who had retained her shyness, no matter how hard her brother and sister tried to get rid of it. Her steps were slow and gentle, the white of her paws and lower body blending in well with the snow. When she sat down though, legs curling beneath her in a manner that all but exuded dignity, the red of her upper pelt was all that you could see.
"Flamepaw. You have proven yourself to be as worthy of a hunter as your father but, when I look at you, I see your mother. The traits that you have pulled from your parents are gifts, young one, and should be treated as such." Finchstar waited until he nodded before moving on.
Her gaze shifted, taking in the light pelted form of Silverpaw. "Silverpaw, you are a brash cat that would rather act then think. But you are also brave and loyal, and I know that you would do anything for your Clan. Learn to listen to the world around you, to the prey and the land, and you could be unbeatable."
Again, she turned to face the final apprentice. "Flowerpaw. Lilyshine has told me nothing but good about you. She says that you have quickly taken to herbs and that you know almost as much as she does. But she also says that you worry far too much. Take the time to speak with your clan-mates once in a while. I promise, you won't regret it.
After each young cat had nodded, Finchstar lifted her head to face the sky. The white glow of the sun was so bright that she had to close her eyes, but her yowl was steady.
"With the trust and the honour that you have given me, I give you your warrior names! Flamesoar! Silverclaw! Flowerburst! May the snow beneath your paws always be steady and the strength that keeps you moving forwards alway be true!"
I also learnt that we were not as safe as I thought. There were...creatures...living among the snow.
"What is it, Finchstar?" Littleflake asked, head tilted in confusion. Her black tipped ears were pricked foreward, trying frantically to pinpoint where the noise was coming from.
Beside her, Finchstar had frozen in place. In all of her travels, through four different Clans territory, through the back alleys of a two-leg Clan, through a forest filled with things no cat had faced before...She had never heard that noise before. A low, gutteral noise. It started as a whine, then grew louder, more like a call. Then it paused for but a moment before starting up again.
The very sound was enough to send chills down Finchstar's spine. The fur along her hackles rose up, ears flattening against her head. Through the thick haze of snow, she couldn't see a thing.
"I don't know, Littleflake, but I don't like it." Finchstar muttered, voice quiet. She didn't want to alert whatever was out there to their prescense.
"Should we...Should we approach it?" The white she-cat questioned, uncertainty clear in her voice.
Finchstar shook her head, specks of the falling snow flying from her fur. "No. We need to return to the camp and warn the others."
Foxes with pelts light as the snow they walked across.
"Are you sure, Fogpelt?" Finchstar asked, voice thick with worry.
The grey she-cat nodded. "I'm positive Finchstar. It's a fox we killed."
There was a moment of silence, heavy and thick, before Finchstar bowed her head in sorrow. "I didn't realize that foxes lived up here. I should have known, though. Few other predators would risk breaking into the nursury when there are so many other cats around.
That was what she'd been told back in the forest, at least. Foxes, though smart, were also frequently desperate for prey. A full grown cat was a hassle to kill, especially when they moved in groups of three or more. But a kit...They were easy kills. The younger they were, the more likely they were to be caught.
And Stonekit was born only the moon before, still too young to stray from his mothers side.
"None of us did, Finchstar! It isn't your fault!" Fogpelt insisted, but the grief in her voice was impossible to cover up. "I should have been watching him better. If I had - If I had been paying better attention, than my kit wouldn't be hunting with StarClan so soon."
Feeling as though she had let her Clan down, Finchstar silently presses her nose into the soft grey fur of her long-time friend. Later, she would tell Fogpelt that it wasn't her fault either but, at the moment, there were no words that could make that clear.
Dogs with shaggy fur and piercing yellow eyes.
"Cloudpaw! Get down!" Icetalon yowled, fear heavy in his voice. "Get down!"
Several fox-lengths in front of him, his son was scrambling to get out of the jaws of a large beast. It looked like a dog at first glance, but its size said otherwise. Shaggy grey fur hung from it, tainted by the snow and matted from a lack of grooming. Icetalon had never seen a creature like this - nor had he seen one so intent on killing a cat.
The over-sized apprentice raced across the snow-covered ground, terror shining in his dark green eyes. A mirror image of his father, Cloudpaw was, but lacking the skill and power of a full grown warrior. His ears were plastered to his skull, white fur on edge.
He should have been able to dissapear into the snow but this beast, with its dripping fangs and sharp yellow eyes, wasn't being fooled. Every step that Cloudpaw took, the grey dog matched. Only its strides were bigger, longer.
There was nothing that Icetalon could do, save turning tail and going to warn the rest of his Clan.
Large creatures that we call dog-monsters; with sharp claws and even sharper fangs.
It was the biggest dog-monster that Finchstar had seen before. And it was so close to camp - close enough that she could still smell the warmth of mother's milk and hear the faintest trace of kitten mewls. If it got past her, then her Clan would be dead. Every last one of them.
She wasn't mouse-brained though. She knew that she couldn't kill this thing. Not on her own. And out here, in this snow muffled world, Finchstar was truly alone.
"Back off!" She hissed at the creature, and though it blinked its large amber eyes at her, she was certain that her words meant nothing.
The dog-monster was larger than four cats put together, towering above her like no other creature could. Its gaping maw, lined with fangs sharp as any dogs, was the only part of it with any form of color. The fur there was black but quickly faded to grey, then white, just like the rest of its body. Each paw was as big Finchstar, with four sharp claws to make them even more deadly.
A low growl vibrated in the dog-monsters throat. Finchstar held her ground.
"This is my land, foxheart!" Finchstar spat and then she leaped, claws out and fangs bared, onto one of the beasts shoulders.
Thick, white fur filled her mouth when she bit down. Her fangs barely reached the creatures skin, her claws did little more than keep her from falling back off. The dog-monster threw its head back in a snarl, stepping sideways and trying to swipe at itself in order to get her off.
Then there was the distinct sound of a tom-cat yowling and Finchstar knew that she was no longer alone.
All white. All able to blend into the snow.
"Eaglefeather!" Scratch called out, annoyed. "Will you slow down? We aren't all young as you."
Ahead of him, the boistrous tabby she-cat paused and spun around. She was practically prancing in place, one paw hitting the ground only for another to come up. Her dark blue eyes shone with excitement at finally being a warrior of her Clan. At no longer being the crotchy black toms apprentice, but his equal instead.
"You should try hurrying up, Scratch." She taunted. "That's what we do when we hunt, you know. Hurry? Or have you forgotten about that?"
"Why you little fur-ball!" Scratch spat out, eyes narrowing at the glee-filled she-cat. "I'll get you for that!"
Eaglefeather, knowing that her former mentor wasn't being serious, waited until he was right in front of her to turn tail and run. With each step, she could feel the snow crunch beneath her paws, squishing up between the calloused sections of her pad. A sharp wind blew from behind her, speeding her on as she ran.
Behind her, Scratch let out a purr of amusement before he took chase. He ignored the wind, used to it by now, and focused solely on catching the young warrior. "When I get my paws on you, oh, you'll be sorry then!"
Eaglefeather waited until the black tom leaped for her to change direction, her nimble paws carrying her out of harms way. Scratch missed, getting nothing but a faceful of snow for his efforts. Stumbling to his feet, he ran a few more steps as he tried to locate the she-cat. Upon spotting her, he skidded to a stop, ready to turn and begin the chase a new - and then the snow rose up in front of him, revealing sharp yellow eyes and a gaping maw. Small, pointed teeth closed around Scratch's throat. Blood stained the snow beneath him and, with a single shake of the snow-colored creatures head, his neck snapped.
The screech was out of Eaglefeather's mouth before she really registered the scene before her. "Fox!"
But we fought - oh, we fought. Each and every time. And we always came out on top, because we trusted each other.
"Are you sure they were that close to camp, Frostpetal?" Finchstar questioned.
The younger she-cat nodded. "I'm positive. I know...I know that my father didn't smell them, but I swear that I did! There were grey-dogs just on the edge of the Rock Stream, Finchstar! I know that they were!"
"I believe you, Frostpetal. Don't worry." Finchstar told the white cat, her voice gentle and reassuring. "Icetalon was focused on hunting the rabbit. He very well could have missed their scent."
Frostpetal blinked, taken aback. She honestly hadn't expected the dark pelted leader to believe her. After all, it was just the moon before that she'd been given her warrior name. Which made her so much younger and inexpierenced then the seasoned deputy that doubled as her father. And, with her being the only one to have smelled the predators, she wasn't sure that action would be taken.
"How many were there, could you tell?" Finchstar asked, motioning for the younger she-cat to walk with her as she made her way through their cavern.
Frostpetal shook her head. "I'm not positive. I know that there was more than one but...I'm really just not sure. I'm sorry..."
Finchstar turned a scandalized look on Frostpetal, eyes narrowed in dissaproval. "Don't apologize, Frostpetal. You have done nothing wrong."
"I know...But I can't really tell you much at all, Finchstar." Frostpetal meowed, dropping her gaze down to her paws as she walked.
Stopping, Finchstar moved so that she was standing directly in front of Frostpetal. She waited until the other cats eyes were on her to speak. "You have given me enough information to gather a patrol, Frostpetal, and that is more than enough."
We still do. I still do. I always will.
"They're beautiful, Poppyflame." Finchstar meowed, giving the queen a gentle nuzzle on the shoulder. She could still smell the blood that had just recently been spilled in the nursury, but the scent of mothers milk easily over-powered that.
Purring, Poppyflame gave a drowsy blink in her leaders direction. "Aren't they? Finchstar, I have to ask you something."
Pulling back, the leader tilted her head at the ginger-furred queen. Nestled in the crook of her belly lay two new-born kits, once as red as their mother, the other as dark as their father. They were truly beautiful but then, new life always was.
"Of course. Anything." Finchstar told her.
"I plan on naming the she-cat Emberkit, after my sister." Poppyflame explained. "But Blackcloud and I were wondering...Would you mind if we named the tom after you?"
"What?" Finchstar stuttered, eyes wide in surprise. "Of course, I wouldn't mind, Poppyflame! I would be honoured!"
Because, here, in MountainClan, only the strong survive. But to be strong, you must be willing to lay down your life for one another.
The mountains were alive with thunder, but the sky above was serene. No clouds. No rain. Just a crystal blue that almost made it seem like any other day. Burning white sun, ice cold air. Nothing should have been different about that day.
But it was.
The cats of MountainClan could see the snow falling down the side of the mountain in waves. Huge, powerful bursts of snow, crumbling everything and anything in its path. There was no way to stop this cascade of slush, just like there would be no way to avoid it.
The crevice that they called home was right in its path.
Finchstar was vaguely reminded of a day, many moons ago, when they were lost in two-leg place. She was afraid, terrified really, but she couldn't show it. Couldn't let her Clan know that even their leader was unsure for once - not when they were all looking to her with wide, frightened eyes and asking for guidance.
She could do nothing but give it to them.
"Firesoar, Flashpaw, Littleflake! With me, hurry!" Finchstar called, swishing her tail once before bounding towards the exit of the camp. "We need to gather the prey!"
Her paws carried her to the Prey Rock in long, swift strides. The three cats behind her, the fastest in her Clan, were right on her tail. Finchstar didn't stop to look at what she grabbed, just took as much prey into her mouth as she could before turning and bolting back towards the camp.
She made it - flinging the prey from her mouth as soon as her paws touched stone. The rumbling of cascading snow and ice was louder now, closer. Finchstar turned around, looking for her Clan-mates.
Firesoar was back first, the tail of a mouse and some sort of bird clamped between his jaws.
Littleflake was just a few steps behind him, and by the time she made it into the cave, the thunder created by the snow was deafening.
Flashpaw was almost to the opening. A large hawk was clamped in her jaws, dwarfing her body. Something caught her foot though, a root? The wing of the bird? Whatever it was, it sent her sprawling out into the snow beneath her. The piece of prey flung over her shoulders, skidding several tail-lengths behind her.
Getting to her feet, the light silver she-cat paused for just a moment before turning and running towards the hawk. Grabbed it in her mouth and started back towards the camp - but it was too late then, she wouldn't make it.
Finchstar wasn't thinking when she flung herself out of the crevice and back into the open. She just moved. Meeting the young apprentice half-way, the dark pelted she-cat grabbed Flashpaw by the scruff and turned around; only to be met by rolling white snow just mouse-lengths above the crevice, headed right towards them.
Biting down harder on the younger she-cats scruff, Finchstar dashed towards the opening. Leaped. Twisted her head around, as she whipped it back to face the crevice, she opened her mouth.
Flashpaw landed in a heap inside of the camp, bruised but alive, just as the snow came crashing down on Finchstar.
You must be family.
My name is Finchstar, and I will always watch over my Clan and my kin.