A gentle breeze sloped down the soft curves of the lands. It was almost too silent in the valley; the only disturbance to this peaceful ambiance was the insistent winds that caught onto fauna as they pushed through.
That is, until a scream broke out.
Birds scattered in panic at the loud sound, and small creatures quickly found shelter from whatever danger the frightening – or frightened? – wail entailed.
Rustling greatly increased in volume, followed shortly by the patter of paws hitting soft ground and sending showers of water where the feet splashed into puddles in the great rush that sent them working in a flurry. Slender, long black forms glided through the long grass, a much larger red shape tailing close behind. It could be easily recognized as a chase that could mean life or death for the pursued and a feast for the pursuer.
More chest-tightening moments passed, but the chase did not let up. But an unfortunate scene was about to unfold even so. A growing red patch was evident on one of the lean black forms, spilling over narrow shoulders to collect at the knot of their neck. It was a sure sign of their draining strength, an unfaltering ooze of thick, dark blood.
The bleeding blurry form, now recognizable as a dark-furred cat as they slowed down, too pained to push themselves forward. The other black cat tripped up slightly as they matched their pace with their partner's; seeming to be trying to get them to move faster, please, faster. The injured black cat looked conflicted, but then set a grimace and propelled themselves forward with even more speed than before.
The twin black cats were now nearing a slope that led up to an open woodland area. They sped up easily, finally finding themselves in a familiar terrain. Even with the fox practically biting at their heels, they maneuvered around the trees and through undergrowth like it was their birthright. This lasted all of two joyous moments, until the injured cat finally buckled and skidded across the grassy ground. Their partner, having just realized what had occurred a heartbeat after, let out a panicked noise as the fox slid to a halt, licking its long snout with hunger.
"Abel!" the black cat shouted, heart clenching with fear as the fox proved to be closer than they were. No no no no played as a mantra in their mind, and they swerved around to stop it.
It quickly moved to trap Abel – hissing and squirming away with the best of his ability – but received a head-butt to its flank before it could get close enough for a bite. Angered, the fox twisted around and snarled at its attacker, the other dark-furred cat. They matched the fox with a face of hostility, teeth bared with intent of use.
"Like I'd let you to touch my brother, you foul creature," they spat, riling up the fox even more, but neither of them moved forward.
They stared each other down, the black cat keep their injured brother in their peripheral vision to secure their safety. They had to live, but above all, he had to.
They met Abel's wide gaze and swallowed. His eyes were full of fear and an unsaid message transmitted between them in that single exchange: don't die, brother.
If I don't make it, I beg of you spirits, please let him live.
Bunching up his well-formed muscles, he sprung upon the fox, immediately hooking his claws into its fur and sank them further into its flesh. The fox howled in pain and tried to throw him off but he refused to let go even when his hind leg flared up in pain as it snapped its jaws securely around. He clenched their teeth to bite a pained whimper from escaping, and then put those teeth to work and tore into the fox's shoulder with great malice and enthusiasm.
The fox let out a startled bark and released its hold, allowing him to wiggle himself safely onto the solid ground. He settled into a limp, dribbles of blood flowing down his leg.
A triumph grin found its way onto his muzzle when he saw that the fox was in a much worse condition, a large gash stretching across its shoulder and deep claw marks curling around its flank. It may have had an advantage before, but it was clear that he now had a fighting chance, if it wanted to fight at all at this point. Foxes were cowardly creatures.
Overwhelming relief washed over him when the latter occurred; the fox hunched into itself and scampered off with its tail between its legs. He sighed, feeling boneless, and trudged over to his brother, who had hidden himself in the undergrowth while the fight went down.
Abel was breathing evenly, though his blood soaked the ground dark and red. Abel's muzzle was also stained russet, signs that he had been trying to lap at his wound. He buried his face into Abel's soft neck, ignoring the metallic scent that flooded his senses, and fell onto his belly. "I thought I lost you," he murmured, finally resting his gaze onto the wound that the wretched fox clawed between Abel's shoulders while they had stopped to rest.
Abel breathed a startled laugh, partially an actual laugh and the other part just a choked exhale, and pressed his cheek against his brother's head. "Oh? And what makes you think a fox can bring down the mighty Abel?" he boasted jokingly, attempting to rise up to puff out his chest to play along even more, but his brother quickly noticed Abel's grimace and eased him back down.
"You're still not in a good condition, whether or not you're the amazing Abel," he gently scolded, pitching up his voice for the last part. Abel scrunched up his nose in supposed offense and said something about being mighty not amazing, but smiled easily when his brother swiped his tongue over his cheek and rose up shakily.
He rolled his shoulders and shook his injured leg; his body ached all over but he could handle his own weight and walk, which meant a little herb trip was in order. "Stay here, will you? I'll be back with something for those nasty scratches," he assured Abel, bringing his nose to his brother's forehead then pulled away and took off.
He walked for a while; the sun reached its highest point during his search, and began dropping when his paws touched damp, grassy ground. Perfect for comfrey. He could almost imagine his muscles screaming at him to stop and just wait until tomorrow to keep going, but Abel was important and needed to be treated.
A marsh, or rather, a swamp is what he seemed to have come across. He didn't waste time to appreciate the fauna; he began looking for the distinctive roots immediately. He located the comfrey quickly and secured a good amount between his teeth, then prepared himself for the long walk back to where Abel was hopefully safely hidden.
The instant before he started on his way, however, he caught the faintest voices, a shout that had carried from somewhere unbeknownst to him: a clan of cats.
He caught a single word, a single name, and then silence.
" - Dawnpaw!"