(!THE SIGHT SPOILERS!)
I'M ALIVE! Yeah, I know, it's been a while...I've just been writing a lot of other stuff that's not Warriors, and also been working on stuff for an application to a writing program this summer. But that's all over now, so I might just have time for fanfiction again:)
This is Graystripe's return from his POV, starting with when he returns to ThunderClan. Just a oneshot for now, but I have ideas for following chapters if you want 'em.
The big gray cat waded through the marshes, shivering as the water soaked into his belly fur. Beside him, a silver tabby she-cat narrowed her eyes as she pushed her way through the muck. Her green eyes were glassy with exhaustion, but there a bright spark in their depths that made the tomcat reach over with his muzzle and stroke her ear. She leaned into the touch, and then turned to look at him. "What was that for?"
His whiskers twitched. "No reason."
The light of the full moon bounced off the water, almost as bright as sunlight. The gray cat stepped into one of the beams of light, pricking his ears. Through the usual sounds of the forest at night, he thought he could pick out a rumbling, continous noise-- the sound of many cats. A spark of hope made his paws feel lighter. "I think I hear them, Millie."
"The rogue said that forest cats lived by this lake," she replied. "But she didn't say they were Clan cats."
"Who else could it be?"
She shrugged. "It would be a fine ending for us to burst in the meeting of a bunch of wildcats who tear us to pieces before we can get a mew out."
The tom let out a purr. "It would, wouldn't it?"
He looked out towards the water. Against the glassy surface, he thought he could see the shadows of the creatures that moved upon the island. They were the size and shape of cats, and if he was still enough he could make out their meows. Occasionally he could decipher a word.
Clans? Was that what he head heard?
He swallowed. "We have to try."
Millie met his gaze. "I trust you."
So did Silverstream, and where is she now? The thought came before the gray cat could stop it, and he shook his head slowly from side to side as pain twisted in his belly. He couldn't afford to think about Silversteram right now. Not when he was so close to being back home. She wouldn't want him to be stupid once again and ruin his chances.
So, Firestar, what will you say when I ask you why you left without me?
He hadn't said anything out loud, but Millie seemed to know what he was thinking, anyway. She reached out with her tail to brush his shoulder. "They'll be so excited to see you again."
"Maybe. Or it could be that they'll be disappointed I managed to find them again."
"Don't think that way." Millie's green eyes hardened. "I've told you over and over again that they didn't mean to leave you. They must have thought you were dead when you were taken by the housefolk."
"Firestar would have never thought that. I wouldn't have thought that, if it had been me."
Millie snorted, sinking deeper into the mud. "Well, we're close enough. Why don't you go ask him yourself?"
If it's him. If it's really the Clans, and I really am home and this is all over. The big gray cat sucked in his breath, noticing a fallen tree that connected the marshy mainland to an island on the lake where the cats were. "That must be how they get there."
"Good." Mille placed her front paws on the tree and heaved the rest of her body up. "This way we don't have to swim."
Graystripe leaped onto the log after her, wincing as twigs snagged in his matted pelt. He placed his paws carefully, sinking his claws into the bark so he wouldn't fall. His ears were pricked and his teeth bared, just in case Millie was right and it wasn't the Clan cats that they were heading towards. He lifted his head, sniffing the air. Through prey-scent and the reek of the marshes, he could pick out individual cat scents. They were faintly familiar, like the scent of his mother might be. The scent of the Clans.
"It's them," he whispered to Millie, his heart pounding in his chest. "It's them!"
Unable to hold himself back, he darted in front of her, leaping the rest of the way across the log and onto the solid island shore. Bracken crunched underneath his paws, reeds whistling as they were pushed apart. The big gray cat opened his mouth and drank the air in deeply, trying to make out individual smells. Was that his only remaining kit, Stormfur? And was that Sandstorm?
Firestar?
"Wait for me!" Purring, Millie rushed to keep up with him. "I'm just a feeble kittypet, remember. I might keel over at any moment!"
The gray cat lashed his tail. "You're not a feeble kittypet."
Millie opened her mouth to reply, but then her tail shot straight up. Having been through enough dangers with her to recognize alarm when he saw it, the big gray cat readied himself, falling into a crouch. His exhausted muscles throbbed, and his heart pounded in his ears. Not now. Not when I'm so close...
"Intruders!" The gray cat thought he might recognize the cats that hissed the words. Millie's ears flattened, her silver fur bristling as several cats exploded out of the undergrowth, unsheathed claws aimed for the pair of them. The big gray cat let out a screech of alarm and twisted to avoid the attack, but the warriors were quick, moving nimbly to sink their claws into his shoulders. The gray cat's paws were pushed out from under him, and he fell to his belly. A ripple of pain passed through his muscles, making him wince. He glared up into the eyes of the warrior who held him. "Webfoot. You're just as slippery as always."
He saw a flicker of recognition in the tabby's eyes, but he didn't release his hold. In the same moment, a clear voice rose above the hisses and yowls as Millie still fought bitterly against her attackers. "Stop!"
The gray cat's whiskers twitched as he felt Webfoot's claws slide in. He suspected the gesture was more out of shock than anything else, and licked once at the fresh wounds before turning his head to check on Millie, who was struggling to her paws. She nodded to him, and the gray cat pushed himself forward, through the last of the undergrowth. He found himself standing on the edge of a wide clearing. A sea of cats were staring in his direction. Their eyes, bright with starlight, were wide with shock, and their pelts bristled along their spines as if they still expected an intruder.
For a single heartbeat, the big gray cat's belly twisted with nerves. It had been many moons since he had seen this many cats in one place. His nose twitched at the mix of scents, and his paws itched for him to run. But he couldn't run, could he?
And then one cat pushed his way to the fore of the crowd. He seemed bigger than the gray cat remembered-- or no, that wasn't right. He was older, aged by moons as well as the constant weight of a Clan on his shoulders. But his pelt was still the color of flame, and his green eyes had that same playful spark the gray cat could recall from when he had been a kittypet, venturing too far out of his garden.
The flame-colored cat gaped for a moment, and then he drew breath and said the gray tom's name.
"Graystripe!"
Reviews are appreciated. And also a huge thanks to Dewflower...she didn't edit this for me, but she reminded me that I should probably wake up and start writing fanfiction again. :)
