Slash woke. His dark dusty colored brown pelt was dusted with frost, and his paws and tail felt numb with the cold. The sunrise greeted him as he gazed out of his den to the horizon, and the sky to the west was covered in streaks of blood. Midnight was still behind him. Flicking his ear, he groaned as he got up, unhappy to get out of his warm moss nest. He was in his den, which was a rough badger scrape that had been abandoned long ago. A large bush grew at the entrance, shielding him from wind and prying eyes. But, even tail-lengths of dirt had no affect on cold weather. Only his nest could stay warm on nights like this. Autumn was fast approaching, and it was getting harder and harder to get prey and stay warm. His winter coat was slow growing in, and he had to deal with the cold for now. Is nest still needed new moss and fur lining, but all the prey that he had eaten lately had either had had too skimpy of a coat, or its pelt was prickly or it did not have a pelt at all. He shivered, remembering the frog he had been forced to eat a few days ago. He shook his head, casting those thoughts aside, and walked out of the den.
A gust of crisp air parted the fur on his cheek, chilling him instantly. He cursed, hoping that winter coat would hurry up. Hunger clawed his stomach, adding to the discomfort of the cold. He scented the air, but the wind was blowing all scents off course, so he had no idea where they truly came from. Making a split second decision, he headed off into the woods. He hunted better in open grass, but the woods would block the wind and therefore allow him to scent. Dry bracken and dying grass crackled under his paws, and he wondered if dead ferns that were signature to the forest would be this bad. He hoped not, but hunger had a way of expelling other thoughts he may have needed to pay attention to, such as crossing a scent line.
He was only a few tail lengths into the forest when he noticed the wind die down almost instantly. Suddenly everything's' scent was with its owner and Slash relaxed. His ears pricked, he wandered far into the forest, not scenting anything closer to him than a bird high in an oak. He cursed at himself. Nothing worth eating would be out this early. Just like him they were drawn to their warm nest, only he wasn't in it. But, hunger would be his master until he had something to eat. He wandered and wandered in a roughly strait line, which was the only way he would find his way back to his den. He always kept the rising sun in front of him, so that it illuminated the undergrowth in front of him. Hunger squirmed in his belly, begging him to abandon all thoughts other than food. Not knowing what else to do, he obeyed it. That was his first mistake.
Nothing but the thought of food was in his mind. Food, food, food... It begged him to hurry; it put all other thoughts on hold. He missed three things that might have saved him, but hunger had its say. He scented a rabbit deep into the forest, and he followed it. When small details caught his eye hunger turned his head so that all he could see, hear, and scent was that rabbit. Its step was young and springy, but meandering. It had no idea it was being trailed. Slash had to trail it far into the forest. Whenever Slash thought he had caught up, it saw a tender sapling that had to be eaten, it ran and ran to get to it as fast as it could, and the whole cycle started again. Slash was concentrating so hard he did not notice when he stepped over a line of strong scent markings. Mistake one. He followed the rabbit, and the sun rose a few inches so that more than its wild hair was peaking over the horizon.
The rabbit stopped to nibble on a clump of green grass that had survived the frost. Shard crept forward, nothing but the rabbit and him in the universe. He never noticed a rustle of bracken to the side. Mistake two.
The rabbit was still eating the grass. Time for the kill. He could already feel his claws beg to unsheathe, but he controlled it, telling them that the time would come. He crept forward on gossamer paws, his golden eyes wide and gleaming from the light of the rising sun. He crouched, his powerful hind legs bunching up under him. The leap was easy, just over a low skimpy bush and breakfast was his. Just before that rabbit's life would become his breakfast, just before his hunger would weaken and retreat for a few hours, everything was taken away.
The rustle of bracken had turned out to be more than a slight twist of rouge wind. It was a cat. He felt a huge bundle of muscle and fur launch into him, felt thorn sharp claws pierce his ears and shoulders, he felt hot breath in his ear. He turned to fight, even though the rabbit he wanted had fled. Third mistake.
"What are you doing on ThunderClan Territory?" the attacker hissed. Bright green eyes gleamed with anger and a golden brown pelt rippled over hardened muscles. Her tail tip was white.
"What territory? I was hunting! That rabbit was mine! Now I have to hunt all over again!" Slash shot back. Hunger possessed him and was turning him into a savage beast whose only thought was food and how to get it. She scared it away! SHE is the reason you lost your meal. SHE is the reason for your needless hunger, it whispered in his ear, its persuasion burrowing into his mind. Yes, he agreed. She should pay. Before she could reply he launched and the strange cat and began fighting with all his might and skill he had. Unfortunately, she had moons of skill and training. He only had determination.
Counting the mistakes stops here.
As soon as they began to truly fight Slash knew he had no chance. The she-cat knew the moves, she knew how do duck, dodge, she know how to slash and attack, she knew everything, and Slash knew one thing. You unsheathe the claws.
Hunger blinded him once more though, even though you and I would have been able to see that you had lost by then, no one knows what he or she would do with that hunger. Oh, hunger knew how to persuade, it knew how to slither through your morals and logic and make only one thing matter: getting to the food. And, the funny thing about hunger is after you did that outrageous thing to get food, it didn't care if you were so injured that you would die as soon as you finished eating. No, it only cared for itself. Hunger, as anyone should think, was a glutton.
Slash was totally possessed with hunger. Even though half of his swipes missed, he only noticed the ones that tore fur. But, the golden cat was getting through his defenses much more, even though she only was able to give him nicks and scratches. She looked afraid, but was no more tired. But Slash was. Slash was panting and slipping, his swipes becoming more desperate and his footing more off balance. The golden cat with the white tipped tail did one thing that allowed her to win. She did not hold back.
The whole fight she had been holding back, not wanting to waste her energy because she had a whole patrol to finish. But, she saw that this was getting nowhere, and she had her kit to return to at the camp. She darted past the wildly flailing paws and sliced his flank.
Slash felt the claw glide through his flesh as though it was nothing. But, it was not nothing. The pain was excruciating! Blood splattered from the wound onto the ground and the sudden surge of pain swiped away the hunger as though it was a measly fly. He could think now. And now that hunger no longer possessed him, pain promptly took its place. And while most often hunger drove one forward, this pain drove you away. Slash crumbled to the pain and fled, slipping on the dying grass and ferns from his bloody paws. The pain eased slightly when he reached the edge of the forest and stopped, allowing the cut muscle to rest. Blood still oozed from the wound, but it was less severe. But, no matter what, it needed to be treated.
Slash, like every loner, knew the basic herbs. Everyone knew what was used for stomachache, for cuts and scratches, for fever… But, now that the frost was getting stronger and stronger, most of the herbs were frozen, and Slash cursed himself for forgetting to store a few of the basics. He wandered around, forgetting to scent for the herbs, almost begging for them to appear at his paws. In his frantic wandering, his head knocked into a tree. He lay dazed for a moment and then sprang up, remembering to scent this time. He scented a clump of marigold a few tail-lengths away, and saw he had landed in a nest of cobwebs. He had luck, that was for sure, but only sometimes. Just as he began chewing up the marigold, bad luck chose to strike again.
A rustle of soft pelt against dry bracken greeted Slash's ears. He whipped around, fearing return of the golden cat, marigold mush dripping from his mouth. But, instead a pure white cat stepped from the undergrowth, his stance radiating calm and trust. His pelt was iridescent, shining with tints of blue, gold, red, and green. Also, this cat was HUGE! His broad shoulders split the ferns on either side of him easily, and his large paws showed the tips of long and cruel claws. The white cat got up and began to calmly and slowly walk to Slash, his black eyes expressionless and wide. He stopped about a tail-length away from Slash, and cocked his head slightly to the side. "Do you need help?" he asked in a soft voice. The voice was fatherly and almost caring, drawing you in. You wanted to help this cat. You wanted to do everything he asked. Slash was only able to nod mutely, marigold bits still falling from his mouth.
The strange cat leaned forward and helped Slash apply the marigold petals to his scratches. It stung, but Slash knew that an infection would hurt much more. His smooth brown pelt was no more, for now it was cut and torn. He felt banged up. His head hurt, his claws ached, his cuts stung, the slash on his flank burned, but worst of all hunger was still there, clawing and tearing at his stomach. He wanted it to stop, he wanted peace, and he wanted the bliss of sleep. In sleep you felt no hunger, no pain. But, sleep was not coming to him; it was not filming over his thoughts. Instead, pain was keeping his mind alert and sharp.
He was almost positive that pain was trying to kill him.
After the white cat finished helping Slash apply the marigold to his cuts he stepped back, white fur rippling over bulging muscles as he sat down with his tail wrapped around his paws. He was silent for a long time. Finally, Slash found his voice.
"T-thank you for helping me," he meowed, stumbling on the first word a little bit. It wasn't a full stutter, and he hoped that the white cat would not notice.
"No problem," the cat replied. His voice never lost that deep smooth fatherly tone. "You can never trust Clan cats though, right?" Clan cats came out weird, with a hard edge.
"Clans? Clan cats?" Slash said, confused. "What, I mean who are they?"
"That little kitty you fought back there, remember her?" Slash wondered how in the world the cat knew about him fighting the golden cat. He became wary. This cat knew too much. "Yes, I know you do! You still feel the sting of the wounds she inflicted on your pelt. You still feel anger to her. How could you not? She took away your food, food that was rightfully yours." Slash nodded, drinking in the words as if they were honey. All fear and wariness to the cat was forgotten. He was hearing what he wanted. "All Clan cats are like that, most worse. They mark silly little borders to keep cats out, and to keep themselves in. But, when someone accidentally stumbles into their land? No waiting for an explanation from you, no asking what you are doing here... Only fighting! They hoard their prey, taking more than they need! And can they spare one young rabbit to ease your hunger? NO! They drive you off. Both of you end up rabbitless, both wounded from battle. Did that help anyone? NO!" The white cat allowed that last word to ring through the trees for a few seconds before continuing, his iridescent pelt shining. The sun was only half risen, and red bathed the sparkling white pelt like blood. "So, what do you do? What do we do?" The cat stopped, waiting for an answer.
"We take what is ours," Slash replied softly, the black gaze of the cat nearly feeding him the words.
"And what is ours?" the cat whispered, his voice like the gossamer beat of butterfly wings, yet saturated with the longing of justice. "And what is ours?"
Slash needed no more prompting. "WHAT IS THEIRS!" he half yowled. "We take what is theirs so it becomes ours!" Triumph filled him. He would get back at that golden cat one day. He would!
The white cat's pelt looked like a red pearl from the sun, a cruel smile playing on the edges of his mouth. "Good. Now, do you wish to help me?"
"Yes!" Slash replied, totally swept up in the pearl-cat's words. Yes…
The cat nodded. "Perfect. Now come with me. I will bring you to my den and we shall discuss this. My name is Pearlpelt, but you may call me The Bane. It's an old nickname. Now, if we are on a partner basis, I should also know your name." Pearlpelt said this rapid fire, but the smooth tone never lost his voice.
"Slash," he replied. "My name is Slash."
"Well Slash, when we get to camp, I mean my den, grab a piece of fresh kill and we shall talk."
Slash's stomach growled at the thought of food. He followed Pearlpelt away from the forest, away from his cooling nest, and away from his past.
It took many minutes to make it to Pearlpelt's den. The sun had fully risen by the time they reached it and hunger had stopped clawing at his stomach. No, instead it was tearing and yowling inside of him. The pain peaked as he smelled fresh fresh-kill. Pearlpelt, The Bane, glanced back at the sound of his stomach. "Help yourself," he said, "Once we get in the camp." Pearlpelt did not bother changing camp to den this time, but Slash did not have time to wonder. Food was his only thought. Pearlpelt paused, gauging the desperate look on Slash's face.
"Okay, wait here." Pearlpelt vanished into the tall swooshing grass and came back moments later with a rabbit. Not plump like the one Slash had been tracking, but it wasn't scrawny either. Slash's stomach gave an appreciative growl. Its warm and juicy scent wafted over to his nose, and he couldn't help but sniff in longing. Pearlpelt dropped it at his feet. "Eat up. I'll show you the camp once you aren't so hungry." Slash nodded, and dug in. The meat was tender and filling, but he couldn't help compare it to the rabbit he had been stalking. He was sure that it was much more tender, and had more meat, and was better in every which way. But, the meat soon did its trick. Hunger was no longer in his stomach and he could now stand up with no problem.
"Okay, lead the way," he said in a much more controlled voice than he had used before. "Lets see this camp of yours." He stressed the word camp on purpose. Pearlpelt nodded, and, doing as Slash suggested, led the way.
Pearlpelt's camp was larger than Slash thought. He had expected a large bush to sleep under, or maybe a big scrape to sleep in. But, instead of that there was a huge clearing, enough to fit about ten cats comfortably, with thorn bushes lining the camp walls and thick ferns to bar anyone's way out. The only visible way out was through the entrance he was currently standing in. He glanced around, and Pearlpelt stood behind him patiently. There was a large boulder hear the edge of the camp wall, jutting out of the ground like a dull tooth. It was a dull gray and had many veins of black and paler gray. He continued to look through the camp. There were three long abandoned badger scrapes backed up to the left side of the camp, and a large lone holly bush stood, like a guard, in front of the tree den openings. In the very center there was a pile of fresh-kill, even though it wasn't very big. He walked in, and found that the sandy dirt that was the floor of the clearing was warm and felt rough against his paws. The place felt like paradise compared with what he had back in his den. Those dens looked a whole lot deeper and warmer… He heard Pearlpelt pad up behind him.
"What do you think? The dens still need a lot of work," Pearlpelt said quietly, the warm breath stirring the fur on Slash's ear.
"Better than what I was living in," Slash said. And he truly meant it.
"That is always good to hear," Pearlpelt said. Briskly, he continued, "Fresh kill is over there, dirt-place there, and you sleep in the holly bush den. There is a nest already made for you. Sleep well, we have work to do in the morning. This place needs cleaning up." Slash nodded, and even though it was well before sunhigh, he gratefully fell into the nest and fell asleep, his belly full for once.