Pinefeather

Enormous fronds of grass silently parted as two cats padded through the forest. The larger of the two cats, a pale grey tom with darker flecks, suddenly dropped into the hunter's crouch, his tail signaling the other cat to do the same.

"What is it, Pinefeather?" The smaller cat, a long furred tortoiseshell she-cat, quietly hissed.

Pinefeather rolled his dark green eyes. "See if you can scent it."

The tortoiseshell lifted her head up and gaped on her jaws. After a few seconds, she whispered, "A squirrel…"

"What are you waiting for, catch it Poppypaw!" Pinefeather demanded. If I take too long…

Poppypaw nodded her head and stalked off, Pinefeather following a few mouse-lengths behind. By now, the creature had come into sight- a small russet squirrel. But Poppypaw stopped in her tracks, staring. Luckily, they were concealed in the grass, and the squirrel had busied itself with an acorn. What is she doing? Just catch it! I need to get to the Twolegplace border before dark!

As if reading her mentor's thoughts, the tortoiseshell apprentice bunched her muscles, readying for the pounce. Hmm… Excellent form! Thought Pinefeather, however impatient and annoyed he was. Then, with a sudden thrust of her paws, Poppypaw sprang out of the tall grass and landed squarely on the squirrel. Unsheathing her claws, Poppypaw snapped the prey's neck, killing it.

"I did it!" She squealed.

Pinefeather snorted with laughter. "Poppypaw, you've been an apprentice for almost four moons now! Of course you can hunt." Pausing, he gazed up through the overlapping branches, creating a haphazard lacework of different greens. The warm light of New-leaf sun dappled the leaves and ground. Pinefeather let out a sigh of relief. It's a little past sunhigh. That leaves a lot of time. "Poppypaw, take the squirrel back to camp. I'll come back soon."

Poppypaw asked no more. Instead, she padded off in the direction of camp.

"Finally…" The pale grey tom muttered.

…

"So, you decided to come!" A plump brown she-cat meowed with delight.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?" answered Pinefeather.

The she-cat, Hermione, shifted her paws for a long moment. At last she whispered, "I don't trust the forest. It lures cats in, you know?" She waited until Pinefeather nodded to continue. "House cats go out for a quick sparrow catching, and then just… never come back. It's intimidating." Barely audible, she asked, "You don't kill them, do you?"

"Never! ThunderClan isn't like that!"

Hermione's eyes lit up. "You talk as if your clan is better than my house!"

Pinefeather shook his head in disgust. "No. It's not my fault I was born here. I would come to your housefolk-"The kittypet interrupted him.

"I'm just teasing, Pinefeather. I know you will come live with me when the time is right."

Pinefeather nodded. He wanted to say he loved her, and would come with her right now… but… I need to wait until Blackbriar is better. His mother, Blackbriar, had whitecough. He just needed to wait until she recovered.

"Pinefeather!"

The grey speckled tom lashed his tail angrily. "It's Mosstail…" He muttered.

"It's OK," Hermione soothed.

"I'll come tomorrow."

She brushed her tail on his face. "I know you will. Good luck!"

Pinefeather nodded and scrambled over the fence, back into the cold forest. He followed Mosstail's scent until he reached the black-and-white tom. Instantly, Mosstail wrinkled his nose. "You smell of two-legs!"

"Sorry, I had to chase a kittypet out of ThunderClan territory," Pinefeather shrugged.

Suddenly, the black-and-white tom's eyes were concerned.

"What?" asked Pinefeather.

"Your mother… she's dead."

The pale grey tom gawked in disbelief. "No… No, no, no…" Not now! She can't die! The wild is too harsh…

Mosstail rested his tail affectionately over his shoulders, "I know, I'm sad too. But, we must live on."

Pinefeather only shuffled back to camp, his tail drooping.

By the time Pinefeather managed to get to the ThunderClan camp, the sun had set, the now inky black sky glittered with stars. In the center of the clearing lay a huddle of cats, most likely mourning for their dead clanmate. He walked over to them and lay next to his brother, Ashstorm. Ashstorm only twitched his ear in hello, his eyes still closed and his pale pink nose buried in the dead she-cats long black fur. Pinefeather did the same, laying down to get as comfortable as he could for the whole night on vigil. Then, he said a silent prayer.

Dear StarClan… Why did Blackbriar have to die? It wasn't her time to leave! Opening his eyes to the sky, he gazed sorrowfully at the twinkling silver stars. Are you up there now? Are you still looking over me, Blackbriar? Please… don't leave me completely. I still need you!

As he silently mourned his mother, an inkling of hope crept into his mind. I can go to the Twolegplace now! He cursed himself. I still need to pay my respects.

I'll go to the Twolegplace tomorrow.

…

After a long night of cold and grief, the black sky slowly converged into one of grey, the stars disappearing one by one. Even though dawn was beautiful, it filled Pinefeather with more grief. Blackbriar would be gone forever… and so would he.

As the sky was filled with pinks, oranges, and reds, the elders stumbled groggily out of their nests in the fallen log. All of them simultaneously murmured, "Rest in peace, Blackbriar."

By then, all of the cats who stayed the night with Blackbriar had cleared away, looking somber and full of grief. The elders began their job. With five of them, two stepped aside- three was plenty to carry a body.

"Farewell, Blackbriar. May you journey to StarClan in peace," The ThunderClan leader, Ivystar, whispered.

"I'll always love you," murmured Fernpelt, Pinefeather's father.

Pinefeather's sorrow-filled yellow eyes followed his mother out of camp. "It wasn't her time."

As the group of cats shuffled their way to their dens, Pinefeather turned around in the opposite direction.

Noticing him, Ashstorm said, "You shouldn't watch the burial. It's sacred."

"I'm not watching," Pinefeather hissed quickly. "I'm going to get a drink of water at the river."

Ashstorm muttered something inaudible, shuffling off.

Pinefeather trotted out of camp, heading for the Twoleg border. The faint light dimly lit the forest, dew from the grass soaking his legs and paws. Brambles occasionally punctured his pelt, getting tangled in his pale grey fur. He even scented another ThunderClan warrior, but he scurried up an oak, hiding in the leaves.

After what seemed like hours, Pinefeather came to a halt, facing the straight white branches – a fence, Hermione told him – that guarded the Twolegplace.

No cats ever die of sickness here. Twolegs look after their pets.

As he scrambled onto the fence, he desperately looked for Hermione. Unfortunately, the pretty brown tabby was nowhere in sight. So, Pinefeather jumped down from the fence, landing in the short-cut grass of the Twoleg garden. He didn't know if it was Hermione's house or not – they all looked the same – but he let out an ear-splitting screech and crumpled to a heap on the Twoleg's doorstep.

In no time, a tall, grey furred twoleg bounded out of the house, and gently cradled him in its arms. Pinefeather opened his eyes, briefly looking longingly at the forest. He faintly shook his head.

There's no turning back.