A/N: Hello! This is my second Warriors Fanfic and I hope you all like it. Hopefully, I will be posting an allegiances and a Prologue soon. Well, in the next few days--I have been playing around with the allegiances already. This chapter will be written in ThunderClan's POV, solely from the perspective of Spiderpelt--later on other Clans' POVs may be used with different OCs. So, yeah.
Just FYI, Spiderpelt is a sort of skinny, long-legged tom that has dark brown fur and one black ear. Just, for those of you who, you know, actually care about minor details like that--like me and my OCD.
This Fanfic, except for StarClan, is all OC characters--okay? So, yeah.
Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors, Erin Hunter does. I'm just glad I can write on Fanfiction until I--hopefully--become an author myself.
Chapter 1: Acceptance (Day 1)
Spiderpelt woke up slowly, being pulled slowly from unconsciousness by a constant jabbing in his side. He groaned and curled up tighter, his tail tucked over his nose. Ugh. What was that smell? It was disgusting!
"Wake up, Spiderpelt! Wake up now!"
Whoever was nudging him was now yowling his head off. Yeah, it was a tom....the frantic mew was so deep it only made sense.
"Fox dung, Spiderpelt!"
Wow. Whoever was mad now.
Ouch!
He jerked awake as thorn sharp claws poked into him. He looked around wildly, his vision blurred and muddled up--reeling crazily. He shook his head, blinking his eyes rapidly, and his vision cleared, but the fog remained. He was in the Warriors Den, and all of the other moss nests were oddly empty and looked like some cat had run over them multiple times. The bramble overhead seemed untouched, but brittle in the greenleaf heat, only added to by the roaring heat that seemed oddly out of place. Too hot to be normal....
He looked up into Stonefang's piercing eyes and was just even more confused. There was urgency to every one of Stonefang's jerky movements as he paced right in front of him, tail lashing as he stepped away from him, eyes now wide with fear and bright with pain.
"What's going on?" he asked quietly, unsure of why Stonefang had decided to roughly wake him like that.
"Smell the air!" the light gray tabby hissed, eyes blazing.
He took a sniff and realized then why his throat hurt so badly. The acid scent of smoke, harsh and woodsy, hit his nose and made his eyes water.
"Get up now!" Stonefang snarled and grabbed him by his scruff, not waiting for him to even get to his paws before he started dragging.
He quickly jumped to his paws and stumbled after Stonefang--whose sharp teeth were still grasping his scruff, his one hooked fang digging in so hard he started to smell his own blood. He shook off the broad-shoulder tom's clenching hold and stumbled off into the middle of camp.
"Hurry up and stop gawking like a mouse-brain!" Stonefang hissed crossly, anger contorting his face into an angry snarl--which shocked him. He'd never seen Stonefang show any emotion like this--he'd only seen the tom perfectly calm, almost poised.
He took another breath and coughed loudly. "What can I do?" he asked finally. He was finally out of his sleepy stupor and was realizing how the Elders Den--well, where the Elders Den had been--was just a pile of smoking debris and the thick cover of brambles over the Medicine Cat Den was blazing wildly, the fire spreading amazingly fast.
Thick, dark gray smoke was everywhere and he could hear cats coughing and gagging in the background.
"Go into the Nursery and make sure everyone is out!" Stonefang hissed meanly, and then dashed off into the Apprentice Den--probably looking to see if any unlucky cat hadn't been able to get out.
He was still confused. Where had this fire even come from? he wondered. But, he raced off as fast as his long legs could carry him and into the Nursery. The smoke was thicker in here, even though the fire hadn't spread to this part of camp yet.
A queen, the only queen in ThunderClan at the moment, Goldenpelt, was still in the Nursery, to his surprise. She was looking up at him, with extremely pained eyes. She coughed weakly and tried to get to her paws, but she couldn't. Her sides were heaving, so big and rounded....
His eyes widened as he realized she was in a great amount of pain. Her kits....they might even be coming....
He padded hurriedly to her side and let her lean against him. "It's okay....you're going to be fine...." he meowed hoarsely. She just nodded, eyes drooping with exhaustion, and he helped her limp out--just as the fire over came the Nursery.
Oh, great StarClan....
His eyes widened a little, tail bristling. He'd come so close....he hadn't even realized....
He shuddered and helped Goldenpelt stumble out, out of the thorn tunnel and into a more damp area, where pools of water were standing stagnant and the fire wouldn't catch. He could see Pouncepaw, a small gray tom with a fluffy pelt, and Redpaw, a much larger, almost full-grown, ginger she-cat, already out here. Their shoulders slumped and eyes downcast, only glancing over at the smoke leaking out of the thorn tunnel every so often. He bet they wanted to help, badly, but they'd been told not to get in the way.
He gently helped Goldenpelt lay down next to the two apprentices and she let out a soft, relieved sigh. Her eyes were closed now and she was panting raggedly, which worried him. Her fur was patchy with burns, and he licked at them delicately. She looked at him gratefully, but winced in pain every so often. Where was the Medicine Cat?!
He looked into the smoky haze that surrounded camp, but he couldn't see anything. He could just hear the fire crackling and a few random yowls and caterwauls, snatches of conversation carried on loud mews. That was it....
Great StarClan....
***
Spiderpelt continued to stand protectively over Goldenpelt, who was now just softly panting. She hadn't been kitting, she was just very close to it. She looked so broken and fragile, though; her bones plainly seen through her dull, ratty pale tabby pelt, the glossy golden brown color now all but gone and her face was blank, except for a pained, pinched expression.
He sighed softly and finally lay down beside her, resting his head down on the ground, front legs splayed and back legs tucked under him in a seemingly awkward position. After standing for hours, he didn't really care. He was also too tired to move again.
Pouncepaw and Redpaw were now curled up together, his head lying on her shoulders and her face was hidden against his chest. They looked sort of cute, lying that way. They had been so exhausted they'd fallen asleep and were now perfectly silent except for a random cough here and there. Boulderfall was now lying deeper in the shadows, his huge bulk mostly hidden. He was panting loudly and gasping occasionally. He looked stunned, his green eyes wide with confusion and horror. He almost felt bad for him. He'd stayed in the camp longer than him, maybe seen things....
He shuddered a little.
"Are you cold?" Goldenpelt asked him, her amber gaze soft.
She was a very motherly cat; she'd even been that way when they were apprentices. It didn't surprise him in the least she'd become a queen so soon. She'd wanted kits. He just wished he knew who the father was. He'd never asked, though....not wanting to pry....
"No, not at all," he mumbled. He could still feeling the blistering heat of the fire tugging at his pelt. He shuddered again.
"Come over here," she mewed gently, and shifted so she was laying closer to him.
He crawled over weakly and laid his face against her flank. The shuddering stopped as he took in her familiar, flowery scent.
"Better?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "Yes, much better," he murmured, before burying his face into her fur--trying to drown out the frantic yowling coming from camp, pained and scared....
***
Spiderpelt woke up once again, jerking awake--breath coming out harsh and rough. He'd had a nightmare....about the fire. This time, he'd been in camp--not outside of it, making sure Goldenpelt, Pouncepaw, and Redpaw were okay.
In his dream….(well, it had been more of a grisly, horrific nightmare that he'd probably be thinking about for the next moon whenever it was dark out)….he'd watched their leader, Hollystar, lose her last life in the blaze, thrashing in an attempt to get away, yowling painfully.
He shivered, not at all from the chilly air. He had to pretend he hadn't heard anything, even though he had. He was so glad he hadn't seen anything, that he'd gotten out before he'd had to see some of the few remaining ThunderClan cats left over from the green cough epidemic of last leaf-bare die.
Mallowpelt (their Medicine Cat) Dappletail, Specklefoot, Cloudeye, and Yellowpaw—they'd all died in the brutal, fleet fire that had destroyed their camp.
He let out a silent sob, unable to keep it in, shoulders shaking. They hadn't been his kin, but he'd been close to them all.
He could recall in vivid detail Hollystar yowling out his warrior name from Highledge, how fierce her gaze had been in pride when she turned to him--as if he had been her kit and not his mother's.
He remembered being told about how TigerClan got its stripes by Cloudeye, a white elder with long fur and one blind eye, and he remembered training beside Dappletail, a beautiful tortoiseshell she-cat who had been his good friend, and going on patrols with Specklefoot, a mottled tabby who had always been happy, always so happy it had made him annoyed sometimes but somehow had always brightened his day. Mallowpelt, a large brown tabby, had always treated him unfairly and with distrust, but he hadn't wanted the tom dead--even if he seemingly hated him.
Now, they were all dead. He buried his face deeper in Goldenpelt's moonlit fur, trying to control the emotions running rampant through him, which was probably mostly from the nervous energy that had been pent up in him for so long.
"I guess you're as bad off as me?"
He looked over and saw Bramblestrike; his massive head was bowed, eyes downcast, and his broad shoulders were slumped. His amber eyes flashed to his for an instant and he could see so much emotion in them, as they were bright with pain and filled with defeat.
"Maybe," he replied hesitantly, as the cool wind buffeted his thin fur.
He shivered a little and huddled closer to the sleeping form of Goldenpelt, her face peaceful, sweet as she slept.
"She was my sister, you know, Specklefoot," Bramblestrike meowed weakly.
His head snapped up and he looked at him, surprised. He hadn't known that.
"I guess you're just as upset, though, having your mate die, maybe more," he mused softly, face still scrunched up in pain, eyes shining with wetness.
Wait. What?!
"What do you mean?" he asked his mew oddly subdued, curious rather than questioning.
Bramblestrike gave him a pitying glance, and then laid back down--huge head resting on his oversized paws.
"It's okay. Sorry for bringing it up." Bramblestrike's mew was gentle, tender almost. He looked up at him one last time, his expression slightly confused but also with a slight hint of understanding. He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes finally, his sides heaving slightly as he released his breath.
Okay, what was going on here?! He glared at Bramblestrike's now still form, trying to will him to wake back up and explain everything to him.
Normally, then, when the muscular tom didn't get back up and explain what was going on, he would've questioned him more fiercely, mew demanding and loud, gotten an answer out of him, but he was too tired right now....
He gazed up at Silverpelt; silently hoping all his Clanmates were now hunting in StarClan's hunting grounds--and all of them had died quickly, hopefully without too much pain.
He gradually let his head drop back down onto Goldenpelt's side and let out a quiet huff, before letting his eyes once again droop close.
Finally, he slipped back into sweet unconsciousness and this time he didn't have another nightmare or even dream....
A/N: Review please? I love reviews a whole lot--any sort of review (even though I do have my preferences). Plus, I have't gotten a flame yet so that might be an interesting experience....