Disclaimer: Don't own Warriors!
A/N: Yay! New chapter. The updates on this story might be limited for now, until I finish Memorial, so... enjoy! :D
Web of Lost
Chapter Three
Here We Go
The Monster hummed along, the No-fur who was controlling it obviously had no idea that a she-cat was hiding in the back of it. Web found it fairly easy to catch a ride. The morning breeze blew her fur back, and brought a sense of coolness to her skin. A Summer sun beat down on the Lake and its surrounding areas. The carefree happiness and joy in the air made her want to puke.
Soon enough, the Monster stopped. Web looked around. She was on a small Monster Path, No-fur dens lined it. A few elder No-furs were mingling around, as well as some kittens and Monsters. Web hopped out of her ride and quickly sprinted into some bushes. The last thing she wanted was to become some No-fur kitten's den cat.
She had to find a den cat area. She knew it was somewhere around here, but she didn't come to the No-fur place often. In fact, the last time she was here was when she was doing assassin work. There was a small woody area with barely any No-furs and a few wooden logs. She slowly padded on the springy grass. It was so peculiar how No-fur's insisted on cutting it. Maybe she could find a den cat to tell her where the No-furs lived.
There were den cat and loner scents mingling along the No-fur forest. Most were old and faded from rain and No-fur activity, but some were new. Maybe only a few hours old. Then she hit the jack pot. It was definitely a den cat scent, but it was very fresh. The cat had only been here for a few minutes. The brown tabby she-cat followed it into some bushes.
What she saw was a tan tom, trying and ultimately failing to catch a mouse. He was pathetic; she had caught apprentices bigger than him. What disgusted her most was a blue den cat collar with an annoying gold bell on it. It jingled when he tried to advance on the skinny mouse.
"It's the bell," Web hissed. He spun around, terrified.
"Wh-who are you? You smell like a forest cat!" he stuttered. Fear scent was wafting off of him.
"Oh, put it away. Could you tell me where the No-fur dens are?" Web decided she wouldn't kill this one. Besides, the ruby red blood that usually shined her pelt after a kill would most likely scare off cats, and if that didn't do it, everyone knew what the scent of fear and blood smelled like.
"O-over at the edge of the park! You can't miss it. A bunch of kittens are playing in water, just a walk a bit and you should be able to get there!" he confessed, before jetting into the bushes.
"If a grown tom is this scared of me I wonder what the younger ones will think," Web pondered as she followed the tan den cat's directions.
--
"Fight! Fight!" the den-cats chanted. All were between the ages of six and twelve moons, all played together while their No-furs were away. A certain game had begun to gain popularity with the kittens. Fight. Today a kitten named Laney and another named Velvet were in a little battle.
Laney sprung into the air and attacked her opponent, in a flash of charcoal black fur. Velvet quickly rolled from under the seven moon olds quick paw in a flicker of orange and white fur. Laney pawed her leg. No claws were allowed in this game. Velvet spun around, hissing and spitting tried to crush Laney. Laney dodged her attack and knocked her over.
"I win!" she purred happily. Velvet stared at her with slitted amber eyes before mewing:
"Good job!"
The crowd of five other toms and she-cat roared and cheered. Laney was the current champion and almost all of the kitties looked up to her. Laney didn't like it much, being a role model. That meant she couldn't get in trouble, or the younger kittens would follow her example. Laney purred at the praise from her peers.
"I try!" she giggled.
Laney's eyes snapped open, her dream fading away from her paws. Sure, thing had been like that a moon ago, but not now. All of her friends were beginning to go to the cutter, their claws pulled out, and most of them under went the Operation. Ever since the Operation, they were beginning to get fat and lazy, and they didn't want to play. The others who just got their claws pulled out still played fight, but they had band Laney. Why? Because Laney's Housefolk didn't believe in getting rid of a kittens claws.
Laney rolled over in her bed. She didn't have any friends now, and mostly just played in her yard. The female Housefolk kitten was home all the time now, and sometimes they played together. Laney loved her Housefolk. Well, at least, she loved the kit. The older male and female didn't like Laney much, and the male kit was too rough. The female kit loved her, though. On nights when it was cold or stormy, the female would let the black kitten sneak into her bed. And sometimes she'd even give Laney fish!
The sun danced in shadows across the hard wood floor. It had to be at least sun high by now. The house cat new she couldn't just waste away in side. She heaved herself out of the comfortable green bed. Her Housefolk obviously filled up her food bowl. She began to eat the disgusting hard food, which tasted more like dirt. She could try to catch a mouse in the yard, but what mouse is dumb enough to stray towards a Housefolk den?
After she finished eating she found her way to the cat flap and let herself into the back yard. The grass was green and freshly mowed, and colorful flowers lined the fences. Tentatively, she stepped out into the open greens, letting an array of scents dance their way on the wind to her nose. A butterfly flew gracefully on the breeze. Laney pinpointed her prey.
She slowly sneaked through the short grass. The butterfly began to fly low to the ground, completely unaware of its stalker. As the colorful insect began to land, Laney pounced. Her small, black body landed perfectly on the creature. It tried to fly away, but Laney pinned it down with her paws. She watched it suffer before finally tearing its delicate body in to shred with her small, snow white, sharp teeth. Pieces of the dead creature began to float away on the wind.
A certain brown tabby she-cat watched from the bushes. This cat… this cat could be the one! She definitely had a fierce disposition, and the makings of a twisted mind. Poor kitty.
