A/N: OK, here goes. I have decided to revive this story because I just got some random as shit inspiration and decided to follow it. Well technically I got it when I was in KL a few days ago, but never mind. I WILL be continuing with this story. And I need a lot of create-a-cat submissions. Like twenty. Nah, just kidding. Ten maybe? *glances hopefully* For rogues. You'll see why.
I raced out of the camp, bitter tears stinging my eyes. I was cast out by a clan I had been unflinchingly loyal to. I had suffered injury, I had suffered humiliation, all in the name of my clan. And yet here I was, an outcast, regarded a traitor, a maniac by those I had trained with, slept with, ate with, slept side by side with. And it wasn't even my fault.
Even Cloudtail had abandoned me. Cloudtail, who had sworn upon his life to stay by my side always, had not spoken up. Tears rolled down my cheeks, pouring out from one good eye and one eye socket shielded by a shut lid. He knew what he had meant to me. Yet he had not understood. Perhaps I chose wrong in taking him as my mate, chose wrong by taking a mate at all. After all, my first love, he had always been Swiftpaw, who had died in the same accident that caused me my injury. He would have spoken up for me, and if he had not succeeded, he would have run from the clan with me. But Swiftpaw was dead. And a little bit of my sanity had gone with him.
In my misery, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, simply concentrating on getting as far away from Thunderclan territory as possible. I slammed into a figure, who reeled back in shock, but quickly recovered. Soon my muzzle was pressed against the dust. It wasn't dust, I realised. It was made of a similar material to that of the Thunderpath, but less smelly, and smoother. It was a Twoleg path, I recalled, and I had run into the Twolegplace. I knew that some Twolegplace rogues were vicious, and I feared for my life, pinned under another cat.
"Who are you? And why did you attack me?" A voice mewed, sounding gruff, but not overly hostile. I relaxed. This cat would probably listen to reason.
"My name is Brightheart." No, wait, I should carry another name, to signify that I have left the clans. "Well, it was Brightheart, anyway. I go by Swift now." For Swiftpaw. "I was formerly of Thunderclan, one of the four clans of the forest, but I was chased out for no fault of my own. I did not attack you. I was upset, and did not watch where I was going as I fled the territory."
I felt the large paw on me cautiously removed, and I warily straightened up, slowly turning to face the other cat.
He was a large, dark grey tom, with yellow eyes not unlike those Graystripe had. He had large, bulging muscles, and I had no doubt that he would be able to kill me with a single swipe. Numerous scars littered his pelt. But his eyes were gentle, even sympathetic as he gazed into my face, his glance running over my shredded ear, the tightly closed lid, the scratches.
"You aren't shocked" I mew quietly, indicating with my tail to the marred side of my face.
"No. You are badly wounded, but I know of cats worse off, although they are few." He responds, his stance relaxing into a more laid back position. "My name is Storm. And if you want, you can come with me, and meet my group. I promise you will come to no harm. They may even allow you to join."
And before I knew what was happening, I was mewing, "I would like that very much"
"Come then." He flicked his tail, and picked up a bit of freshkill lying by his side.
I followed him down a few paths, winding along the twoleg dens, marvelling at how well he knew his home.
He set down his freshkill for a moment, and mewed, "just down this road, and turn the corner, and we'll see it."
It would be a lie to say I was not excited.
But as soon as we turned the corner, sounds of battle entered our ears.
He dropped his freshkill in haste, and growled to me, "Okay, I'm part of two main groups in the city, you could say the kinder one. The other group often attacks us. Here's the plan: I'm one of the main fighters in this group, so when I go in quite a few cats will go for me. Help me pick them off. Do well and you are guaranteed a spot. Oh, and if you see a cream she-cat with some kits in trouble, help her and leave me. She's our only queen at the moment."
That being said, he rushed into the den, with me hot on his heels.
What do you think? And don't forget the create-a-cat!