Author's Note: this is my first shot at a Warriors story. Also, be aware that it is a "crossover" with my original concept, Project Bluefield. Feedback is appreciated; just no flaming, please.

Enjoy.

"Uncalled For"

The warrior stared in blank shock.

Several moments before, the Twoleg had been merely sitting against the trunk of a mighty oak. He'd looked like he'd been sleeping, despite the pain on his face—pain evident to even a kittypet's untrained eye.

Despite all the evidence of an intruder right before him, Whitefur felt no threat from this sleeping Twoleg. Which was…definitely not normal.

So distracted was Whitefur that he didn't notice the shadows creeping out into the sunlight.

He felt something unnaturally hot close its dark fingers around his body.

All Whitefur remembered between then and landing on the forest floor was the Twoleg opening his eyes, and…a sense of something he'd almost forgotten.

Fear.

When the light had dimmed enough, the Twoleg had changed.

Short grey fur. The right foreleg was darker than the rest. A slightly short tail. One brown left eye, one blue right.

A small creature's arm, dismembered from the living shadow, hanging from the foreign tom's jaws.

What trickery is this? Whitefur thought.

The grey-furred ex-Twoleg spat the arm out. "Disgusting," he muttered. He then turned to look at Whitefur. "Hey there," he said, nodding, expression softening a little.

The warrior cat stumbled to his paws, too stunned to reply.

The ex-Twoleg cocked his head to the side. "What is it? Cat got your tongue?"

Whitefur suddenly found his voice. "What? No, that's not—it's—you're…you're not a real cat," he blurted.

The "cat" looked slightly miffed. "Well, I'm not a 'Twoleg', either, if that's what you were thinking."

"Then what are y—?" Whitefur stopped suddenly.

Because the "cat's" right eye—it sharply changed from blue to red and back again.

"Er, just so you know, your fellow Clan members are looking for you," he said abruptly.

Piqued, Whitefur pricked his ears upward, looked around. He's right. Indeed, somewhere off to his left, he could hear Shellpaw and the others. They were in the forest, calling his name. How in the world had this ex-Twoleg sensed them before Whitefur had?

"Whitefur! Where are you?!"

Whitefur called back, "I'm over here! I'm all right!"

"Stay there! We're coming!"

Whitefur turned back to face the "cat". "How did you—" he began. He stopped in mid-sentence.

The "cat" was gone.

"What were you thinking, exactly?"

I looked up. "About…?"

"Revealing yourself to the Clan cat like that."

"It doesn't matter," I huffed, cricking my neck. "After all, it's not like I'm a freaking celebrity. I don't matter to their matters."

"Still, appearing in your humanoid form, then shifting into your new feline form—all in front of a Clan cat?"

"Yeah, I get that they may initially distrust me more now. But personally, I don't care."

"Interesting."

"Besides, if I hadn't done anything, that cat likely would've died."

"Okay, that's less interesting."

"Oh, for freak's sake, [Vaire]," I snapped, getting up. "That was pretty uncalled for."

"Apologies. We didn't mean to sound like gods."

I nodded, took a second to scratch my head. "All right, so…done with scouting here," I recounted. "What's left?"

"Please standby," [Vaire] said.

Rolled my eyes, sat back down on the mossy ground. "Got it," I muttered miserably.