The young cat treaded through the forest, his feet making not a single sound despite the undergrowth he was walking upon. This forest, so alive with the humming of insects and songs of birds, was so unlike what he was familiar with, and the novelty of it made him nervous and relatively jumpy.
Wading skillfully through a small creek, he paused for a moment to examine his reflection in the cool, crystalline waters. The thin, almost wispy frame that was his body, the opposites of ice and fire in his eyes. However, what was most trademark of his appearance was his odd patterned pelt, so unlike any other cat in existence. One half of his body was white, pure as newly fallen snow. His right side was the black of a starless night.
He leaned down, lapping up a little of the cool, spring water, effectively distorting the image. Suddenly, he stiffened, raising his head with mismatched ears erect in alertness.
"ThunderClan," he murmured. His voice was soft, and the word sounded strange coming from his mouth. Digging long, sharp claws into the muddy bank, he pulled himself so easily to solid ground it would be impossible not to compare his movements to that of a RiverClan warrior.
He fell into a crouch, his eyes fixed on a tall maple. It was the beginning of spring, and thus the tree's leaves hadn't yet fully grown back to its usual luster. He could easily make out the tabby tail flicking in the young tresses.
"T-Tigerstar?" He asked himself in an almost inaudible whisper, tilting his head to the side. 'No, it can't be,' he scolded himself gently, and turned away. Tigerstar was dead, and had been long before this cat's birth.
Walking away, no longer bothering to remain silent, he opened his mouth to scent the cool air. The odd, leafy scent of the Clan was everywhere, and he knew immediately with a panicked pang that he was lost.
Allowing himself a snarl of frustration, he clawed at a fern as he tried to regain his bearings. It was then that he finally sensed the shadow above him, the shadow of a cat intent on taking out an intruder. He allowed it to close in with a little sigh, and when he could hear the sound of breeze rippling through fur rolled out of reach. The tabby landed on the ground with a surprised grunt, and quick as a snake the rouge had him pinned to the ground. It was a trick that his mentors had taught him early on, and thus he was an expert of it. However, the strange cat wasn't one to use his claws without first attempting a compromise, and thus he stepped off of the tabby and mewed uncertainly, "…Hi?"
The tabby got to his feet quickly, lean muscles ripping under his pelt. The intruder allowed himself a small gulp as he examined this formidable opponent that so greatly resembled his mentor. However, there was some aura about him that Tigerstar so lacked, an aura that the intruder felt almost comforted by. The cat began flicking his tail, watching the intruder with narrowed, unblinking amber eyes.
The intruder flicked his tail in greeting, ready to speak again when a large weight landed skillfully on his back. He grunted, and was rolled on his back, belly exposed to the large golden warrior that had pinned him to the ground
The young cat stared at his attacker, horror flashing in his odd colored eyes. He watched the unsheathed claws rise up, aimed at his face, and the rouge realized that this was no time to work with words. He finally unsheathed his own claws, and before the warrior's claws could sink into his sensitive cheek flashed his own paw across the lean, golden shoulder.
It wasn't a deep scratch, but the cat leaped off immediately and stared at the beading blood as if he'd never seen it before. In the confusion, the tabby tilted his head in curiosity and a small gray she-cat feel out of another tree with a grunt. Getting to her feet, she hurried over to the injured warrior's side, and when their eyes met a mutual flash of horror and puzzlement crossed between them.
The black and white cat pulled himself ungracefully to his feet, and flicked his tail uneasily. The long furred extremity caught on a bramble bush, and he yelped in pain and surprise as he realized he was stuck, caught in the claws of a simple bramble. Crying out in desperation, his flailing caused the tangle to grow, and soon it wasn't just his tail caught up in the brambles. "P-plants with claws… w-what is this? What is this? Help!"
The gray she-cat let out a mrrow of amusement; watching him get stuck in a simple bramble bush seemed to break the tension the warriors had.
"He's no threat to our territory," a voice announced the presence of another she-cat, who seemed to take great joy in the plight of the stranger cat. "Why, he doesn't even know what a bramble bush is!" The gray she-cat and the golden tom exchanged nervous glances. The worry in their eyes didn't exactly match the other she-cat's words.
"Is this… ThunderClan?" He asked, making a desperate attempt at conversation. He figured that while this… what had they called it? A bramble bush? Was trying to eat him they'd be more willing to talk rather than fight. "I'm looking for ThunderClan…"
"You found us… rather, we found you," the tabby mewed, his eyes sparkling with humor as he began to untangle the brambles caught to the other cat's tail. He realized that the joking hint in his voice was what made the tabby so different than Tigerstar, who also wouldn't be caught dead removing a cat's tail from the fierce clutches of brambles. And the intruder kind of liked this humor, which then resulted in a wave of other emotions overpowered by guilt.
Tigerstar would kill him for such thoughts.
"Can you… ah… take me to your leader?" He continued, waving his finally free tail in gratitude. "I have a request for him…"
The golden warrior's eyes flashed in hostility briefly, and the gray she-cat glanced at the tabby nervously. The other she-cat scratched her ear apathetically. What they all had in common is that the three of them were waiting for the tabby to say something. The intruder realized then that he must have been in charge of the little group.
"I'll take Firestar to you," he said finally. "Blossomfall, come with me. Dovewing and Lionblaze, keep an eye on the rouge."
"Thank you," he replied, dipping his head. "And don't worry, I'll stay here."
"I've heard that one before," the tabby growled, before flicking his tail in good bye.
Once the tabby and she-cat were gone, he glanced longingly at the tufts of fur still stuck in the brambles before looking at his own ragged and bleeding tail. Self-consciously, he began to groom it.
"Can't handle a little bit of blood?" Lionblaze growled. Dovewing still looked nervous, and the rouge had a feeling that the golden warrior was acting completely out of character. He closed his eyes, allowing painful memories to consume his mind.
"Can't handle a little bit of blood, kit?" The black and white kitten stared up at the brown warrior in horror, and cried out. The sharp claws raked across his flank again, and more blood spilled to the ground. The helpless kit wailed in pain, falling to the dusty forest floor thud a thud and with a sharp wince as he prepared for the next round of abuse. "Answer me!"
"O-of course I c-can…" the kit squeaked in horror. He couldn't have been more than a few moons old; perhaps four at the most. "D-don't hurt me again, Brokentail… please…"
"Oh?" the full grown warrior hissed, pulling the kit roughly back to his feet despite the squeals of pain, and began mocking him. "'Don't hurt me again, Bwokentail, not again, not again!' Well, if you squeal one more time, do you know what happens?"
The kit shook his head, blood staining his fur.
"How about your precious sisters; how would you like it if I… ah… killed them right in front of you, kit?" Brokentail whispered with an air of threat. "You wouldn't want to see them writhing and wailing on this very ground, with nothing you could do to stop them?"
"No," the kit whispered, pulling himself to his feet and shaking the blood from his pelt. Brokentail stared at him in surprise, and the kit raised his voice. "I won't let you! I'd die before I'd let that happen!"
"I suppose I was wrong," Brokentail smirked. "But that is of no matter. You will train, you will not cry out. And you will stay everlastingly loyal to the Dark Forest. Got that, kit? Or your sisters die."
"Right," the kit hissed. "Right."
Unknown to his brother and mentor, the black and white cat had watched the whole thing. And after that, his brother had never squealed again. In fact, after that, he was completely devoid of all emotion because of Brokentail's claws. No matter what ended up happening to him, he never made a sound, never showed a single sign of weakness.
"Actually, maybe I can't," he whispered in return to the golden warrior, but maybe for his own sake. "Maybe I can't."