Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors, and I rather think it is the best for them, or else I would be killing them off like… well, I don't know. R&R!

A Hard Decision

Smudge watched Rusty go with a heavy heart. He was losing his best friend! But something at the back of his head was still nagging him. What if Rusty was right? What if the best thing really is to leave? Smudge shook his head firmly and thought, No. Those cats are mean, wild, and dangerous. I'm sure I'll never see Rusty again. He'll be killed! Tears leaked out of Smudges eyes. He wiped them somberly away with the back of his paw. Then he turned around and half leapt, half fell off the fence and into his garden.

As he paced slowly through the huge leafy plants, Smudge thought of all the long hours he and Rusty had spent together, all the long, sunny mornings they spent grooming each other and talking about their Housefolk… Just thinking about these memories made Smudge feel miserable. He sat down and closed his eyes. For a split second, Smudge imagined that he would feel Rusty's warm breath on his fur, but he didn't. Instead, he felt the cool morning breeze rippling his soft kitten fur. Smudge curled into a ball, pondering what he should do next.

The sky overhead darkened. Now that sunhigh was long gone, the wispy clouds that were hiding at the edge of the sky now easily hid the sun. Once the main source of heat had gone, the bitter winds came, howling and snarling like a pack of dogs. Then came the rain. Smudge wasn't a real water cat, so as soon as the first drop fell and clung to his fur like a burr, Smudge was instantly under the cover of a tall bush with umbrella like leaves.

The rain was coming down so fast; in the short time of four seconds that it took to run for cover, Smudge was already soaked. He bent down and started to groom his fur. The wind carried some of the droplets under the leaf, soaking Smudge yet again. He sighed and got up. Deciding that his house would be much drier than out here, Smudge gathered his courage and made a dash for his front steps. The rain pelted down at him, feeling like thousands of tiny bullets being bombed at him from enemies above the dark, swirling clouds that they lived in. He finally made it in after what seemed like years and pushed through the plastic cat-flap that led into the kitchen. Thunder clapped as a fork of lightning lit up the sky for a second before disappearing. Smudge shivered not only from cold, but also from fear. He hated the loud noise the thunder made.

He circled his nest once, twice, three times before settling down and finishing the washing he had started. Even though he was tired, washing always made him feel better.

Soon his Housefolk walked clumsily down the stairs and into the kitchen. It poured dry round pellets into a blue bowl and left the room. Smudge could hear it shuffling around in the next room. He pulled himself out of his cozy bed and over to the bowl. The pellets were hard and flavorless like dirt (A.N. not you-know-what dirt. Dirt meaning soil.), but he managed to choke down a few mouthfuls before returning to his bed. This was not the perfect day with Rusty he had planned. No, ever since Rusty had met with those wildcats last night, nothing had been right. Smudge let out a tiny whimper but quickly stifled it. He was such a ninny! He could have slapped himself across the face with unsheathed claws! Smudge let the fur along his spine flatten, for it had risen in disgust just a few seconds ago.

His Housefolk lumbered back into the kitchen. It stooped to scratch him behind the ears at a spot that had been bugging him the whole day. He purred and licked its big, peach-colored paw. This he immediately knew was a mistake, for its paw was covered with slime and sweat. The taste made Smudge's throat burn like hot coals singeing his delicate windpipe. He coughed and sputtered, but the Housefolk didn't seem to notice. It merely stood up and walked away, climbing the stairs with what seemed like total blindness because it made loud thuds and slapping sounds. Smudge fell into an uneasy sleep to the sounds of floorboards creaking and young Housefolk's crying for its mother.

Smudge lapped at a cool puddle of rainwater that had been caught in the glossy leafs of a stout plant from last night's rainfall. His pink tongue traveled all the way around his mouth, removing all access water possible. For the thousandth in the past six days, Smudge looked longingly over the fence in the direction of the forest beyond. Something stirred inside him. Some urge to jump that fence and join Rusty. A voice in the back of his head whispered, why, though? Do you think Rusty was noble to run away? Is it brave to run away? Why do you what it so badly? Surely you would be leaving everything behind… But then Smudge thought of Henry; slow, lazy, indifferent. Would he, in time, be just like Henry? (A.N. For all you out there who have forgotten or need refreshing on their memory of the first book, Henry was that lazy old cat (Hey! That rimes!) who told Smudge about the "wildcats") If the vet did that normally, Smudge couldn't even think about what they must do in emergencies. Probably take out their eyes or rip off their ears. He shuddered and pushed those images to the back of his head.

Smudge crouched, tail swishing back and forth, before he leapt high into the air, soaring towards the white, wooden fence. He had misjudged his jump and found himself sinking before planned. When his forelegs hit the top of the fence at their fullest extent, out came the claws to grip the wood; up came his hind legs to scramble on top of the fence. After scratching and scraping at the wood, he finally managed to heave himself up. He was blushing furiously, a little embarrassed by his stupidity. In his effort, the green collar around his neck had slipped off. Not the most efficient thing ever, huh? He asked himself.

His ears pricked and he spun around to look into the forest. He was sure something had called his name. It was just the wind, he thought, mind whirling, just the wind. But still he felt as if he were being pulled on a string into the depths of the forest itself. He stood there, leaning over the edge of the fence. A battle was going on in his head. Should he go, or shouldn't he go? In a split second he decided. Actually, he didn't decide. His body automatically made up its mind when his Housefolk shook the food container to call him inside. Instead of bounding of the fence in their direction, he leapt lightly of the fence in the other direction, towards the forest.

Once on the forest floor, however, a new problem sprung up. His stomach was reminding him of it: food. He didn't know how he was going to get his own food. His Housefolk always gave him plenty. Even though it didn't taste too good, it was something. Smudge's stomach growled louder this time. He decided it was better for him to be moving around. He didn't want to find anything that wanted to hurt him. So he set off into the shadows of the tall, rough feeling barked tree. Its leaves rustled as a light breeze whispered through the foliage.

After some long period of time, Smudge sat down to rest. He was positively exhausted. He had been traveling due east through dense forest. Twice he thought he heard a snap of a twig or a rustle of a paw being dragged though leaves. Each time, Smudge had looked over his shoulder but seen nothing. It spooked him to know, or think, he reminded himself, that something was following him. He shook his head, got up, and wandered over to a stream that was trickling over a few pebbles. Smudge bent down and thankfully lapped at the cool water. It soothed this parched throat after the long trek through the trees. He only allowed himself a few licks before setting off once more.

Not after long, Smudge found himself at the edge of the forest. A horrid stench filled his nostrils. Smudge peeked out from behind a tree. Ahead lay a wide smooth surface. It shone in the afternoon suns glare. Smudge trotted out from behind his ash tree. It doesn't look too bad… if you didn't count the smell, he thought. At that moment, the ground shook. A terrible roaring sound filled the air. Smudge looked wildly around and to his horror saw a giant monster coming towards him, growing closer and closer every second. Smudge leapt for the safety of the trees. He half made it. The monster rushed by just as he was in mid leap. The force in which it was rushing by threw him into the air. He twisted in mid air and landed on his feet. Even though he landed well beyond the trees, he scrambled to cower behind a large birch twenty or so feet away from the wide, revolting black… THING!

After about an hour of listening to the monsters roaring by, Smudge decided that they meant no real harm unless he stepped out onto the thundering path. Hey! He thought. Thunderpath isn't a bad name for that thing! He crept stealthily, paw-by-paw, out from behind his tree. One monster roared by, then another. He now barely flinched as one whizzed by, hissing and spitting. Smudge walked further down the oily grass that separated him from the Thunderpath, scanning the scenery for someway to cross unscathed. Then he spotted it. A tunnel.

It seemed to lead to the other side. Smudge took a few tentative steps towards it. He wasn't sure if he should do it or not. Do it! DO IT! Then he decided; if he wanted to get to Rusty, he must cross here. Taking a deep breath and gathering up his courage, Smudge pelted full out under the tunnel. He didn't stop to take a breath or look back until he was on the other side.

"Phew! I thought I would never get across!" murmured Smudge. "That was some smart thinking… for a kittypet." A voice growled near his right shoulder. Smudge stiffened. "Now," continued the voice in icy calmness, "My instructions are simple; turn around and leave ShadowClan territory at once."