[Author's Note: Good morning, everyone. Here's chapter three. Next chapter we'll be getting into the good stuff.]
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"How many times do you have to be told? Prey is not a toy."
Applekit's eyes flickered to her brother and she tried not to roll them as a warrior, Blueclaw, lectured them on and on.
"We only took a vole, Blueclaw." Whisperkit cut in. "It was mostly skin and bones. Barely even a mouthful on it."
Blueclaw's paw cuffed the tabby across his head, sending him bowling over. "That's a mouthful that should have gone to one of the warriors who's spent their time catching food for the clan, not left to be ruined by two idiot kits with no respect for animals that died for their clan." Blueclaw's green eyes blazed. "Do you know how hard it is to catch prey in weather this cold? Do you know how many more cats will have to go hungry because you decided to get our well-caught food covered in dirt?"
"It's okay, Blueclaw." Interjected a raspy voice. Blueclaw whipped around to see an elderly white tom staggering over, wincing on his stiff legs. He sat down uncomfortably and pulled the mouse towards him with a paw. "I'll eat it."
"Don't be ridiculous, Wingsplash." Blueclaw snapped. "You don't need to eat that filthy piece of crowfood. I'm sure these lovely kits will enjoy that pleasure, and you can have something fresh."
Wingsplash shook his graying muzzle. "I'd like this." He said rustily, but forcefully. He rolled the vole towards him and picked it up carefully.
Blueclaw opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. He nodded to Wingsplash, then gave each of the kits a quick swat on the ear before stalking off.
"What a grump!" Applekit exclaimed, licking her paw and rubbing her sore ear. "C'mon, Whisperkit, let's go back to the nursery."
But Whisperkit had already cast a sideways glance at Wingsplash, and his tiny kit conscience winced at the sight of the noble elder nibbling at the bony vole, struggling not to gag at the dirt that caked it.
He padded over slowly, head down. "I'm sorry, Wingsplash." He mumbled, unable to meet the cat's gaze. "I'll take the vole back and eat it. You can have one of the sparrows on the pile."
To the kit's surprise, the vole was not flung with disgust at his feet. Instead, he heard a raspy chuckle, and then a rusty meow, "Why would I do that? I wanted vole. If I didn't, I wouldn't have taken it. You can have a sparrow if you'd like." The sounds of chewing restarted.
Whisperkit finally worked up the nerve to look into the elder's eyes. They were blue, but foggy, almost like glass orbs filled with mist. His fur was shaggy and his legs were short but thin. A bit of blood from the vole stained his white fur.
"I'm sorry we got mud on it." Whisperkit murmured, and was aware of his sister creeping up next to him.
"Yeah, sorree." Applekit squeaked.
Wingsplash sighed and tore at the last bit of meat on the vole's bones. "Well, I accept it. And I hope StarClan does, too. Remember, respecting prey is part of our warriors code. Those are our laws, and they're there for a reason. They aren't there for kits to break them for a cheap thrill."
"Yes, Wingsplash." Both kits said at once. They started to turn away.
"Now wait a second, young'ns." Wingsplash rasped behind them. "I got you out of trouble, the least you can do is stay around a bit until I finish this vole."
Applekit rolled her eyes and audibly sighed, but Whisperkit was already complying, turning back to the ragged white tom. He sat down in front of him and stared expectantly at the elder. But all Wingsplash did was take another leisurely bite of prey.
Whisperkit's kit-length attention span was ticking away. He shuffled his paws and coughed, sighed, then finally turned back to Wingsplash. "Are we going to talk or anything?"
Wingsplash didn't even blink. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Tell us a story!" Applekit yelped from next to her brother. "You prolly' have some good ones, right? You're the oldest elder in the clan!"
"Blunt, aren't we?" Wingsplash deadpanned under his breath. Then he straightened up and licked his lips. "Of course I have stories. What do you think elders are good for? If we couldn't tell stories, we wouldn't even be kept in the clan. It's practically our purpose."
Applekit flicked her tail in anticipation. "Tell one from a long time ago!"
Wingsplash purred. "Oh, a long time ago? Well, here's something to think about. I was around before, well, all of this was."
Both kits blinked slowly.
"Right, that probably didn't make sense. What I mean, is, I was around when the clans lived somewhere totally different. It was a huge forest, with fields scattered on the fringes, and a wide stream cutting through. The clans were called different things. I lived in what was once TreeClan."
"Was that what PineClan was called?' Applekit interjected.
Wingsplash sighed and scratched an ear. "To be honest, no. The clans didn't keep together. We had disaster after disaster in the Big Move. Cats were starving, freezing, plunging off cliffs to their deaths. Apprentices or young warriors would get bored and wander off to explore, then never come back, lost in the wilderness forever. Some cats even rebelled. Said they were sick of this, that we were going nowhere, that we were wandering in circles. They formed their own little packs and left. It happened a few times. I remember one group said they were going back to the old territories. I don't know what came of any of them. So, when we finally made it to our destination, the 'clans' were in total disarray. Some couldn't even remember their clan, or had fallen in love with a cat from a different clan. So we scattered, split up, formed the clans you know now."
"Cool." Whisperkit mewed.
"Super cool. I wonder if Mom remembers the Big Move?" Applekit pondered.
Wingsplash gave a laugh that came out as a rusty snort. "Don't kid yourselves. I was barely out of kithood when the Big Move happened. Your mother wasn't even close to born yet. Perhaps your mother's mother remembered it, but she would have probably been a kit back then."
"So it was a really really long time ago, huh?" Applekit asked. She had stopped squirming boredly and was now settled into a posture of wide-eyed interest.
"Very long time ago." Wingsplash sighed, his misty eyes growing faint as his mind traveled back to that distant past, full of paw-sore journeying and death of loved ones and frost-bitten confusion.
"Why did the clans move in the first place?" Whisperkit squeaked, snapping the Elder back to the present.
"Hmm? Well, like I said, I was just an apprentice back then, so it's hard for me to remember specifics. I do recall something very bad happening, some beast that wreaked havoc on the territories. It killed some cats, and then a brave group of warriors from my old clan went after it. They killed it, or so they said, but scarcely a moon later cats were getting murdered by what patrols described as the same creature. After it slaughtered two leaders and a deputy, well, we didn't have a choice but to run for it."
"Wow." Both kits breathed, in fascinated horror.
"I don't want to give you all nightmares now." Wingsplash chuckled raspily. "Nothing like that would ever happen now. Technically, we live now in an area much more suited for bobcats and cougars and wolves and bears and all sorts of unsavory creatures, but after what happened before, we had to have a solution devised." And here the Elder's foggy eyes darkened slightly. "The pugnas."
"Pugnas?" Applekit rolled the unfamiliar word off her tongue. "Is that like a Warrior?"
"No...not exactly." Wingsplash sighed. "Think of it as, well, a whole different rank."
"Like a special kind of Warrior?" Whisperkit suggested.
Wingsplash's shaggy white head shook slowly. "No, no. You're missing the point. Maybe you're too young to understand this..."
"No, I get it." Applekit insisted proudly. "It's not a Warrior, or an Apprentice, or a Deputy or Leader, right? It's something different."
"That's closer." Wingsplash nodded in approval. "Anyway, they were what we created to make sure nothing like last time very happened again."
"What do they do?" Whisperkit mewed in awe.
Wingsplash looked around unsurely. "I don't think kits as young as you are supposed to learn about pugnas yet. When you're Apprentices, your mentors will teach you." And with that, he nodded, scraped some dirt over the remains of his prey, and padded away on unsteady legs back to his den.
"Huh." Whisperkit huffed. "I don't want to wait until I'm an apprentice."
"Oh well." Applekit said flippantly, getting to her paws. "The Elder's are just grouches anyway. I'm sure someone else would tell us if we asked. Let's go, Whisperkit. It's getting late. Mom will want us back." And she flicked her brother's ear with her tail before bouncing back to the Nursery.
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But no one else would tell them anything. Everyone they asked, from their mother to the senior Warriors to the Deputy himself would either avoid the question with an awkward change of subject or ignore the kits entirely. Pugnas, it seemed, would remain a strange mystery for another few moons.
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[Author's Note: Thank you for reading and please don't forget to leave a review! :3]