CHAPTER TWO:
LEARNING
"Mama!" Gwyn wailed, flicking her tail angrily at her youngest brother, Thorn. "Mama, he broke the rules!"
Her mother, Misti, purred. "And what rule did he break?"
Gwyn sniffed, already able to tell that her mother didn't take her seriously. "The rule that says no chickening out!"
"Oh?"
"I did not chicken out!" Thorn, a ginger tom with darker flecks mixed in his fur at random, bristled angrily. "I went straight for the throat!"
"Nuh-uh!" Gwyn, a dark grey she-cat with white marks on her paws, tail, and face, cried. "You tried to avoid my claws instead of attacking me. Plus, I'm the leader of Bloodclan, and you have to let me win!"
Misti glared at her daughter. "Gwyn, that wouldn't be fair. The leader of Bloodclan should have the skills to beat the horrible forest cats, and leave unscathed."
"Yes, Mama," Gwyn mewed weakly.
"Now, run along and play."
Gwyn and Thorn tore across the alley, leaving the dumpster behind them. They didn't slow down until they were a safe distance from their mother.
"Gosh, she's a real fun-wrecker," Thorn commented. "She doesn't know how to play!"
"Nope," Gwyn agreed, "she's hopeless!"
"Hey," Thorn said suddenly, "where'd Venus and Crow get off to?"
Venus was the oldest she-cat in the litter. A tan color with darker marks on her paws, tail, and face, was ferocious. She easily toppled Crow, the oldest, from his throne on occasion. Crow, the exact replica of Scourge save for a grey instead of white paw, couldn't stand it. The two were prone to rematches on a daily basis, leaving Thorn and Gwyn to either play by themselves or with Bruce.
Bruce was the middle kit, and resembled Misti greatly. He was a light grey, with white on his paws and tail. He didn't talk much, but was the biggest kit. He didn't take to the wrestling games Gwyn and Thorn liked, so they often left him out of their games while he went off and did whatever Bruce does during the daytime.
"I dunno," Gwyn answered finally, gazing off into the distance. "Wanna go find 'em?"
"Sure!" cried Thorn, taking off. Gwyn snarled, tearing after him. They skittered around corners, dodged monsters, and hissed at dogs they saw. The dogs knew kittens were not to be trifled with, especially when they were of this particular scent. Any kit from Bloodclan's death was sure to be avenged. It had happened only a few days ago, when Scrap had been killed by a terrier. His mother, Blossom, and father, Jaw, had killed the small terrier, who's name had been Bernie. Along with the rest of Bloodclan, they'd taken out every dog that they saw for the better part of the day. The bitter loss of a pack member still fresh in their minds, the strays didn't bother Thorn and Gwyn.
"Crow!" Thorn yowled, looking for his brother.
"Ve-nus!" cried Gwyn, hoping her sister might appear.
The two kits, exhausted, headed back to the Bloodclan camp. Never had a block seemed like such a distance! Tired as they were, they hoped Crow and Venus would appear to carry them home. Paws dragging on concrete, they didn't notice a mangy dog following them.
His head was held high, nose twitching with the scent of blood. Bernie the terrier, his friend and companion, had been brutally murdered! He would have revenge. With a ferocious snarl that could raise the dead, he launched himself on Gwyn and Thorn. The kits squeaked in surprise. They, being true Bloodclan kits, fought back. But soft kitten paws can't defend against a dog's maw.
"Help!" Gwyn cried, trying to run.
"Please, someone!" wailed Thorn freeing himself and taking off. The dog, distracted, let Gwyn have a bit of wiggle room. She used it, slipping away from the horrible dog teeth. It was one thing to see them on her mother's collar, but quite another to see them covered in saliva in front of her face.
The kits, with renewed energy, bolted towards camp. But kits aren't fast to begin with, and the certainly can't go top speed for very long. The dog caught them again quickly, this time determined to kill them. He lunged, landing on Gwyn. She squealed, attempting to roll away. His jaws went for her throat-
A caterwaul froze the dog in his tracks. The call of a true fighter. He barely had time to register his impending doom when the cat leapt on him. Purple collar flashing, displaying his endless supply of dog teeth, Scourge ripped viciously at the dog. He bit a floppy ear, ripping it clear off. The dog howled in pain and rage, bucking madly to get the black cat off. But Scourge isn't leader of Bloodclan for no reason. He sank his claws into the chocolate eyes of the dog, digging in as hard as he could.
The dog howled again, trying to run. Scourge killed it was a swift slash to the chest with his sharp claws. He dropped down in front of a terrified Gwyn, white paw stained red. He was panting with the exertion from running to his kit's aid more so than the actual battle. For the longest time he said nothing.
"Gwyn," he said at last. "If you can't defend yourself, don't leave camp. I won't always be around to protect you. Consider this you lesson and warning." He strode off, trying not to let her see how shaken he really was.
