After Mapleshade had delivered the assuredly fatal blow to her throat, and she'd said her last words to firestr and Sandstorm, she'd let the darkness wash over her.
Now, Spottedleaf regretted going without a fight. The darkness stretched as far as her eyes could see, not that she was sure she even had eyes anymore.
In the brief seconds she'd thought about it, she'd expected there to be nothing waiting for her in her second death. A similar darkness, yes, but one with no thoughts,no feelings, and certainly not a need to keep reminding herself she had paws or a tail or an ear.
Nevertheless, she'd prefer the nothing. A consciousness meant she could think, and think she did. About her family, starclan, the fate of the living clan. For all she knew, she'd been here for eons, and the clans had ceased to exist. There was no way to tell how much time had passed. It could have been seasons, or seconds.
It was getting to the point where she was trying to forget how to be a cat and forcefully bring on the nothingness when she saw it.
A blob of color, muted but enough to make her eyes- Yes, she certainly seemed to have eyes- sting. Without a thought, she began calling up every image of paws and legs and movement to propel herself towards it.
Whiskers and a tail emerged from the blob, and before she even realized it, she knew it was a cat.
In her life or death, she couldn't recall ever being so happy to see someone, or so desperate to be near them.
Still, when she could make out the cat's eyes, she stopped. Spottedleaf didn't know what rules this place was governed by, but invading the personal space of the only one that could help her did not seem like a good idea.
"Excuse me, where are we?" She asked, trying to keep her mew level and polite.
I turned out that it was an effort wasted. Her words didn't land in her own ears, nor did she feel her mouth shape the.
Somehow, though, the cat responded.
"Nowhere. Quite literally."
The words appeared in her mind, completely devoid of emotion and unarguably foreign. Communication here unnerved her, silent and invasive, but she still welcome it after the previous silence.
"Well, do you know how to get me back to Starclan? Or anywhere?" She asked, concentrating on her words instead of trying to force them out of her mouth.
"No, not Starclan. But I can get you somewhere, in a sense."
"Well, then, please do!" She said, after a moment's pause. Past the strong relief that she was finally being offered a way out, her patience was dissolving with every one of the cat's cryptic answers.
"Yes, I believe I can. Just give me a moment to find a sickly little kit down above, we do the switch, and there we go: Healthy young kit and another spirit in waiting. "
All excitement faded as the cat finished it's speech.
"What was that part about a sickly kit? And 'another spirit in waiting?" She asked, beyond suspicious. It sounded like the cat meant-
No. She couldn't.
"Pretty simple, considering the complexity. I find a kit not long for the world, take a waiting spirit, and switch 'em out. The kit-spirit says with me until I find a place for them. And then I start over," She flicked her eyes to Spottedleaf. "It always throws me off when Starclan sends a cat, but oh well. I'll find a particularly weak litter next time."
If she was breathing, Spottedleaf would have gasped. Instead she put the most shocked inflection she could on her next words.
"You mean, you kill kits and, and just place other cat's spirit's in their bodies?"
The cat snorted. "No. I find a kit with a spirit too weak to survive, and change it out with a stronger spirit. Then I keep the kit's spirit until it's strong enough, and put it in the best situation I mother gets a healthy litter, and the spirit gets a better chance."
When you put it that way, it didn't sound so bad. But Spottedleaf was no stranger to playing up the good sides of a situation, and brushing of the painful. Lying by omission, then convincing yourself it didn't matter.
"So, you'll find a dying kit, and switch it's spirit with mine, right? Nothing else to it?" She questioned, trying to make sure the cat couldn't leave anything out.
"Finally," It sighed, "You understand perfectly, except one thing: a spirit as strong as yours, with so much baggage, would destroy a kit's body. I'll have to remove some of that, to make it weaker."
Spottedleaf drew back.
"What kind of 'baggage' is that, exactly?"
"Oh, mainly memories. A few other things, but nothing you'll miss."
"Wait. You're going to take my memories? But won't I need those?" She floundered for an excuse, but she knew it was pointless. Cinderpelt had lost her memories, hadn't she? What made Spottedleaf any different?
"Not all of them,"
She purred with relief.
"You need to know how to breathe and blink and swallow, but not much else. The rest would just make you restless, and confused. Without them, you'll be a new kit, ready to lead a new life and end up in Starclan."
All the air rushed out of her, dropping her to a slumped position.
"So just like like Cinderpelt?" She sighed.
The cat nodded vigorously. "Exactly. So if you'll just step over to this pool," It swept its tail over the ground, and in a place she would have sworn was empty, a glimmering pool appeared.
The cat walked around it, and Spottedleaf followed hesitantly.
"Yes, here we go… Kit three would be stillborn, but not if I give it a little help…" The cat looked up at Spottedleaf. "Will this work for you?"
She looked into the pool and saw three vaguely cat shaped figures. All were shades of gold, wispy like fog. Two looked almost solid, pulsing like a heartbeat. The third sputtered weakly, glowing bright before flickering out.
"I.. I suppose."
"Wonderful! Now, if you'll just step in and take a drink."
She flicked a paw into the water, and to her surprise she could see the paw. A flash of white leading into tortoiseshell that vanished in seconds.
"What... What happens when I do?"
"Well, the drink will make your spirit light, and you'll float to the bottom of the pool and into the kit. She'll sink to the top and I'll pull her out. Switch done, you're alive again."
She regretted asking. She got the gist of it, but the cat's contradictions made her more confused.
Is it worth it? She thought, staring at the pool. Is it worth losing all my memories, just to leave this place?
She looked around, from the nothingness to the cat, sitting quietly by the pond, and back to the nothing.
Yes, It is.
She stepped into the pool.
The water felt like a combination of fire and ice, shooting up her body until every hair on her pelt was visible and real.
Without another thought, she took a drink,
Here looked as safe as any place to put down a nest and finally have her kits. Soft grass, shady trees, and no one around.
Drift sat down and let the kits come like they'd been wanting to for the better part of the day.
After the grueling moons of carrying the little freeloaders around in her belly, restricted to doing only those activities safe for the little creatures, the pain was minimal. And over remarkably quickly.
She looked down to see what her labors had earned her. There were three, a good number, but not ideal. Four would have been better.
Two males and a female. The males were considerably larger, but the female nursed fiercely as a newborn kit could. A little fighter.
With a sigh, she settled down. She could train these kits to be fierce and cunning enough to make a name for themselves, and her job would be done.
She would have to find a new den, though. This place was far too unprotected, and the scent of other cats crept towards her on the wind, stale but recent. With the three furballs besides herself to protect, she would be defenseless against an attack.
The bone eating cats they spoke of would kill her in seconds, and probably feed her kits to a badger. Yes, a new den would be necessary. Just as soon as the kits could walk.
Drift awoke to the sound of pawsteps.
Immediately she unsheathed her claws and arched her back, before remembering the kits.
Biting back a hiss, she rose up and circled the nest. She didn't have the best hearing skills, but it didn't sound like that many cats. If she could kill one, and then the other was slow at getting to the kits-
Her thoughts were cut off when the cats emerged from the underbrush.
"Hello! Just letting you know you're on Thunderclan territory," One began in a perky mew. "You and your kits can come back to camp with us or you can leave-"
Drift pounced, aiming for the throat. The cat fell down, and after a quick blow to the head, stayed down. Drift turned to face the others- Two more, she could handle them- only to see them retreating. One ran back the way it came, and the other advanced again, but slowly.
"Please! We won't hurt your kits, we're just offering a place to stay!" It pleaded.
"Liar," She snarled, before picking up the kit closest to her and running.
She ran until she was exhausted, only dropping when her lungs screamed and the kit mewled for milk.
She sat it down in front of her and panted until she felt her sides would split. Her eyes watered and stung, but her ears could still hear the whimpers of the kit.
She picked it up, and placed it where it could nurse. She had gotten the bigger male.
Such great potential in the other two, wasted.
Her heart lurched. You left them to those bone eaters. You left them to die.
She dragged her thoughts away, to the one kit in front of her.
She had to focus on what she had left.
AN/ Welcome, all to the new Not Wasting This! If you read the old one, you should know what's going on, but if not and you want to, click the link on my profile. So far the main (and only) question I've gotten is whether or not the last chapter of NWT was the end, and my answer is kinda, but mostly no. This story will get an actual ending, but it's different than what NWT would have had.
I'm looking forward to storying with you all, and invite you to let me know of your likes, dislikes, or any errors you found in a review. :)