Hey everyone! This is my entry for WC's August writing challenge. Enjoy :3
I didn't mean to leave; I was just so angry. There was blood roaring in my ears, coating my paws, a limp shape at my feet. I just so angry, so confused, and so I started to run.
The tabby she-cat opened her wide yellow eyes and uncurled with a languorous stretch. There were twigs in her pelt, clumps of leaves clinging to her thick fur. She took a moment to groom herself, if only to keep the memories at bay for a another small minute or two.
Don't think, she told herself firmly. Just do. If she thought, she'd get angry. If she got angry...there would be nothing, no one,to stop her running back to tear out his miserable throat.
She raised her head and gave her surroundings a cursory glance. It was clear she was no longer in FallowClan territory. All around her,there were trees, trees, trees. Birdsong. Gone were the flat plains and small woodlands of her island home. She felt a pang of longing, before she shook it from her mind.
She lurched to her paws. She'd cleaned them,last night,after she's grown too weary to flee any further. There was no blood,nothing that remained to taunt her.
The pale brown tabby began to trot into the forest. She was hungry, but did not trust herself to catch any prey. The spilt blood would only serve to remind her of what she'd done...of the cats she fled from.
The anger began to crackle beneath her pelt again.
Fernflight...get a hold of yourself, she told herself, shivering,as if to shake her rage from her fur. As if she could discard her second skin.
By the time the sun crept below the distant horizon, Fernflight had traveled through one forest, across a moor, and entered another large woodland. She curled up between the roots of an old oak, grumbling at her makeshift nest of rotting leaves and scraps of damp moss.
Before she knew it, the tabby she-cat was asleep. Asleep, and dreaming.
Fernpaw hummed as she trotted down the dusty path. It was a blazing, beautiful day; the glittering lake and golden sand called to her. So did Crowpaw.
The slim black apprentice was waiting for her on the beach, tiny waves lapping at his dark paws. He waved his tail in greeting as as she scrambled down the cliff path. His bright blue eyes were wide and warm. The sunlight gleamed off the splash of white fur on his chest.
"Hey," he purred, as she reached him. She sat down beside him and dipped her pale brown paws in the cool water.
"Hi," she replied, glancing away from his intense gaze, at the shimmering lake and distant forested lands. She stiffened as she felt Crowpaw's pelt brush her own tabby fur, but as the sun climbed laboriously into the sky,as the lake glistened and laughed, she relaxed.
The wiry she-cat jerked in her mouldering nest, whimpered, clenched her eyes even tighter shut. But she could not escape the land of dreams.
"Fernflight! Swiftstep! Fernflight! Swiftstep!"
As the Clan proudly yowled the sisters' new names, Blossomstar smiled benignly down at her daughters. Only one- the white she-cat with large black-and-grey patches- smiled back. Fernfrost was too busy glancing over her shoulder, desperately trying to catch the bright gaze of the black tom who had eyes for only Swiftstep. She saw the warm glitter in his eyes as he chanted her name.
"Swiftstep!"
Each one a blow to her heart
"Swiftstep!"
Each yowl an icy claw of betrayal in her fluttering heart.
Last night Crowfur had told her he did not love her. He loved another, lived for another, and he had told her, as she sat heartbroken and confused, that it was her sister.
Fernflight swung her head around, contempt blazing her her pale blue eyes. But only for a moment; she swept her anger away to the numb corner she reserved for her irrational rage.
Amongst the dark and the shadows, the pale tabby she-cat strained to wake up. She found herself on the verge of waking and dreaming. One eyelid flickered. Her paw twitched. She was almost there, almost awake, before she was ensnared by the sleepy hold of another memory-dream.
Fernflight glanced between her sister and Crowfur. She had a bad feeling about this meeting, about why they'd called her down to Crowfur's favourite spot of the beach.
It used to be her's, too, before the black tom had abruptly lost interest in her. They used to come here, to sit and talk, and hid from their apprentice duties. That had stopped when his attention did.
"Fernflight," Swiftstep greeted brightly. Her expression, however, was dark. Was there pity in her icy blue eyes?
Crowfur's gaze was averted. He stared broodingly at the lake behind her.
"Let me guess," Fernflight said dryly. "You have something you need to tell me. Well, spill."
Couldn't they see the rage in her tensed muscles, the pain in her narrowed eyes?
Swiftstep twitched her whiskers and pressed her patched pelt against Crowfur's.
Couldn't she see how much that simple gesture hurt?
The black tom finally looked at her. His expression was firm, confident. It was clear he hadn't invited her here to apologize.
"We thought we'd tell you first," he began. His tone made made her fur prick uncomfortably. He said 'we' as if it entitled a single cat.
"Tell me what?" Fernflight asked, her voice harsh. She already knew, though. The whole Clan did.
"Swiftstep is my mate. She's going to have my kits," Crowfur told her starkly.
Kits! She hadn't known about the kits.
There was a red haze across her vision. They should've been her kits, and he was supposed to be her mate and Swiftstep should've been nowhere in the equation.
The pale tabby found she had launched herself into the air. Then she collided with a warm mass of flesh and fur, and her claws sprang out, seeking and spilling blood. She heard, felt, saw in fragments. A pained shriek. A pair of blue eyes, locked briefly with hers.
Sand beneath her paws, wind in her fur. Splinters of light piercing the red haze.
The cold shock of the water as she plunged into the lake brought a sudden, painful comprehension of what she'd done.
Doing proud to her namesake, Fernflight fled.
"Hey. Hey, wake up."
Fernflight woke with a yelp and a paw digging into her ribs. Her eyes flew open with shock; a ginger feline's fave hovered above hers.
The tabby she-cat rolled away from the hovering face, fur bristling. She lurched to her feet with a low hiss.
The owner of the face pulled back, green eyes wide.
"It's alright," he said, glancing down at her unsheathed claws. "I won't hurt you."
"Who are you?" she growled, backing away another step.
The ginger tabby looked surprised. "Me? Everyone calls me Orange."
Fernflight repressed a snort of laughter at his unfortunate name. "Orange? As in the colour?"
"No," he muttered. "The fruit."
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, in which both cats stared at each other. The tom was openly curious; Fernflight studied him with a wary gleam in her eyes. He was practically a kit; he couldn't be any older than seven moons, the way kit fluff framed his face.
"Who are you?" Orange asked suddenly.
"You don't need to know that," she said, bristling. You don't want to know that.
"Anyway, where's your mother?"
Orange hunched his striped shoulders. "I don't know," he confessed. "I told her I could look after myself, and that I didn't need her anymore and...she left me."
Fernflight glanced to her right; she could smell tar, Twoleg rubbish and the greasy stink of monsters.
"Look over there," she said, gesturing with her tail. "She's probably hiding in the Twolegplace."
The pale brown tabby didn't wait for the tom-kit's reply; she pushed past him, leapt off the tree root and loped into the forest.
She slept beside a fallen tree trunk that night. It was a shallow, fitful sleep, but she did not dream.
She woke to the sound of her stomach grumbling and a small voice in her ear. For a moment, she forgot where she was, what she'd done.
"Go away, Swiftstep," she mumbled. "Lemme sleep."
"But...I'm not Swiftstep. Remember? I'm Orange," the small voice said.
Her eyes flew open. Sure enough, the little ginger tom stood beside her, looking woeful and utterly lost.
"Did you follow me?" she demanded.
"Um, well, sorta," he said, scuffing his paws against the dirt.
"Didn't I tell you to find your mother?"
His expression turned hopeful. "I was hoping you could help me."
"Look, kit, I'm-" she broke off. She couldn't very well say she was busy, could she? She had no more Clan duties, patrols or hunting shifts.
"I could help you. I could help you with whatever you're running from, miss," the kit offered.
"You know nothing," she hissed, watching as he shrank away with wide green eyes. Such a pretty little tom...the world was going to beat it right out of him.
Fernflight found herself climbing to her paws, heading back into the forest, watching her small orange shadow trot after her. Doggedly, he clung to her trail. Even when the sun reached the pinnacle of its laborious journey, he continued to follow her.
She considered telling him bug off and go pester some other cat, the the expression of hope and faith on his face tore at her heartstrings.
Fernkit watched them play.
Swiftkit, serious, Crowkit, taunting.
A false smile hovered on Fernkit's lips. She hated the way they played together, how they left her on the sidelines, how they looked at each other. The twin lights mirrored in their eyes.
Almost made her want to retch- Crowkit had promised to play with her today, not her stupid sister.
Looking back now, Fernflight could see that her sister had always been the one for Crowkit, how even as kits they had been destined to be together. How every moment Crowfur had spent with her was nothing.
How Fernflight was doomed to to hide in her sister's laughing shadow.
A kittish voice broke into her dreams.
"Hey, um, miss?" it asked.
Fernflight cracked open one bleary eye. The world was a kaleidoscope of blurred and hazy colours; dark browns, smeared greens, the bright orange ball of fuzz that stood in front of her.
"What?" she croaked, as the world solidified into clarity.
"You were kicking. In your sleep. Muttering...Crowfur. You sure have funny names where you come from, don't you?"
Fernflight twitched her whiskers.
"Says the kit named Orange."
The little tabby tom smiled for a moment. "If you wanted to, you could tell me what's bothering you. I promise not to tell, miss."
Fernflight shook her head and looked away. Could she really unload her burden onto the shoulders of a happy, innocent young cat who had stalked her through half of the forest?
She made a swift decision.
"I used to live in a thing called a Clan- a big group of cats that care for and protect each other. I grew up with my sister and a friend from another litter. Their names were Swiftkit and Crowkit. Crowkit became an apprentice a moon and a half before we did, so he used to come and teach us fighting moves after he'd done his duties. I was better, so he used to spend most of his time helping Swiftkit."
Yes, she thought. Yes I can.
"Then we became apprentices and everything was just peachy. Crowpaw and I used to sneak away to the beach to chat and escape our duties; Swiftpaw the good, clever one. She stayed behind and did everything her mentor told her to. But the night before me and my littermate became warriors, Crowfur- he was made a warrior a moon or so earlier- came to and told me he didn't love me. That made me realize...that I loved him."
She hesitated, glanced into Orange's bright green gaze. He was eagerly awaiting the next portion of the story.
"Then what happened? Did he fall in love with you?" he asked.
Fernflight laughed harshly. "Of course not. He fell for my sister and she fell for him. Three moons after our warrior ceremony, they called me to Crowfur's favourite spot on the beach. They told me they were mates and my sister was expecting his kits. I felt so betrayed. I was so angry. I snapped. I lashed out at Crowfur and then I fled."
Orange looked mortified. "That was mean!" he exclaimed. "He should've loved you!"
The tabby she-cat snorted. "You don't know my sister. Pretty, charismatic, charming, the absolute best at everything and anything she tries her paw at. Nothing daunts her. She's perfect and I'm evidently not. Anyway, what's your story?" she asked, abruptly changing the topic. As much as she could ramble on about her talented, stunning sister, she'd rather not.
"I told you, miss," Orange muttered, glancing away into the dim forest. "But I lied. I'll tell you the real story though, 'cos I can trust you. One day when Momma was sleeping, I decided to go out and hunt for her. I thought she'd be really proud of me, but I didn't even find a scent. I was crossing a Thunderpath when a monster came roaring towards me. I tried to run but I was so slow...I got hit." Here the little tom gave a small sniffle and sidled an inch closer to Fernflight.
"It threw me to the side of the Thunderpath where Momma found me. Everything was pretty dim and foggy, but I remember her looking down at me, frowning, before turning to walk away. She left me! Why did she leave me?" he wailed, leaning forward and burying his nose in the she-cat's pelt. She stiffened, before planting a comforting lick between his ears.
"A Twoleg found me and took my to a bright, white place. They gave me little coloured things to eat and put two of my legs into the stiff 'casts'. It took my legs a while but eventually they stopped hurting. Three new Twolegs came and took me away, but I escaped from them when they left the den entrance open. And then I meet you."
He finished his spiel proudly, blinking up into her eyes.
Fernflight's whiskers twitched. "You must be hungry, then."
Orange shrugged. "A little bit," he mumbled.
"I promise I'll go hunting in the morning," she told the ginger tom. "But now we need to sleep."
Fernflight woke early in the morning. She slid silently out of the nest, tasting the air. She found the scent of a squirrel and tracked it to an old oak, where she located and killed it.
When she returned, Orange was sitting up in the nest, washing a small paw delicately. If she looked closer, she could see the scars on two of his legs, where the fur was softer and paler.
She dropped the squirrel unceremoniously in front of the tom. "Food," she said, nudging it toward him.
She felt oddly protective of the kit; as if it were her duty to look after him.
Orange polished off the meal with unsurprising swiftness.
"Can I come with you?" he asked, swiping his tongue over his jaws, once again wearing his trademark woebegone expression.
Fernflight fixed him with a disbelieving stare. "You'd want to do that? And I'm not going anywhere exciting. You probably wouldn't like it."
Orange set a stubborn green stare on her. 'I'd like it. I promise, miss."
Fernflight sighed in defeat. She couldn't say no to Orange. He was so young, innocent, carefree...how long would the wilderness take to break him if she left him alone?
"Yeah, I guess you can come. And stop calling me miss. My name is Fernflight," she told him.
The joy on his face seemed irrational; she wasn't that great.
"Now come on. We have a lot of walking to do."
All throughout that morning and well into the afternoon, Fernflight answered questions about Clan life. He seemed fascinated with the idea of their names- probably because his own was so terrible.
"Can you tell me why Momma left me?" Orange asked. The sky was painted red and orange by the setting sun, and they were crossing a wide meadow.
Fernflight looked at him as they walked; his little paws were dragging on the ground and he had a slight limp. His round green eyes were downcast.
"It wasn't your fault," she said soothingly, brushing her fur softly against his.
"Remove yourself from your situation. If you came across a kit lying on the side of the Thunderpath, bleeding and limp, what would you do? What could you do? She thought you were dead."
"I can see it like that. With a new perspective, right?"
"Right," she purred.
"But you can't do that? You can't see your situation from a new perspective?" he asked.
Fernflight mulled over this for a moment. "No,' she said decisively. "I can't."
"Fernflight? Can we go back the Twolegplace one day? I'd like to tell Momma that I don't blame her for leaving me. I have a new perspective and everything has changed now. I thought she didn't love me, but...I'd like to see her again, now that it's different."
Fernflight stared at the sinking sun, at the dramatic colours painted picturesquely across the sky, at the forested hills broaching the horizon.
She took a step back, removed her emotions from her situation. It didn't make it any more fair, any less of a cruel betrayal.
She wasn't like Orange. He was kind and benign one, the one who believed in second chances and different perspectives.
"Yeah," she told Orange, nodding in agreement. "We can do that."
Maybe she'd go back to FallowClan one day, just like Orange who would return to the Twolegplace. It wouldn't matter, though.
Things had changed. Things would be different- unlike her stalwart perspective.
So, we had to base a story off a supplied quote, which was:
"Sometimes, if you just take a step back, you can have a whole new perspective. Sometimes, if you leave, you might even decide to come back. And when you do, everything will be different."
I think I did okay. Did it throw you that Fern's perspective didn't change but Orange's did? It was meant to.