SCRATCHNAIL'S REDEMPTION:
I'm getting there—another chapter. xD these cats are hard to write with—but I like them a lot and I try, it's just difficult to complete a whole chapter. Nevertheless, I attempted yet again, though it's short—I really like Skinwretch, lol. Sorry that they're all still in the same place, I'll get more travel and action and crap in a bit—half of this chapter is in Scratch's little brain. xP thank you ALL for reviewing, I hardly expected it haha.
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Streakz the Werecat—heh, I'm trying, lol. You're welcome for the recommendation xD I found the book in an airport lol. And heh, I need those little bits with Fritti in there, I go crazy trying to be Skin&Scratch all the time, and the plot bits are important xD hope I finish.
Crescent of Night—wow, hi lol. Tee hee, I know, isn't it sad? I decided if I wanted a Tailchaser fic I'd have to try and write it myself, haha. And –sigh- I know poor Skinny doesn't go sssssss, I started out doing it but got really confused about what to do for like, 'received' where he WOULD hiss… so I just said he 'hisses' and such. xD thanks, really!
Detective Thief—ta-hah, that's awesome. Thanks, hope I pulled it off again for this update—my writing style tends to accidentally change, but I keep rereading the book in an attempt to keep it steady. :) hope you keep reading, ha ha! They are dark, glad you like them.
))- - - - - - - - begin chapter!
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Chapter Four—uncertainty.
The predatory smile and the hot breath in her face made the silver fela recoil, to no avail—she knew with a sinking heart, deeply, instinctively, that there was no escape from this inky monster with the blood-red claws. For a moment her eyes could not adjust, and the wide, frightened eyes of the she-cat could pick up nothing but the little that the streetlamps showed her.
A giant, powerful body pinned her down, but flashes of silvery-pink skin surprised her as well—a surprise filled with a deep, crawling horror. As those wide eyes adjusted and finally the flat yellow gaze of her assailant glittered into view, Hushpad knew all was lost. There was not a line of mercy or hope in the thin, snakelike face of the monster—catching sight, panicked, of the creature's naked companion, her heart sunk even lower. She did not, could not fight the catlike being whose bloodred claws showed no hesitation to plunge through her fur.
So simply she lay, and in her terror found a kind of peace—though pain and fear tried to choke her, saturated her voice, it was no sign of weakness. The monsters expected nothing less. She could see in the massive black animal's maddened face how despicable she was to them—and strangely enough, in what may have been her last moment, she wished only to change their minds. So asked Hushpad, "What is your name?"
Scratchnail was thrown completely off-guard by the question—not only had the she-cat completely ignored his own and dismissed his gloating, but she… well, only idiocy could compensate for such, and yet again the disgusted Clawguard found himself wondering what on earth that fool Starface had seen in the cat. Was he, Scratchnail, a creature deeper than these surface-worms' own little savior?
Nonetheless, for a tiny moment, the massive scarlet talons loosened in surprise, and in that time the young fela had slipped his grasp and shot back towards her M'an dwelling like a silver arrow. Very well, then. A chase will be more satisfying anyhow. Some part of his pale-skinned companion must have sensed the escape, because Skinwretch was right on her long ink-dipped tail. His bristling fangs clipped the end of it, and with a squeak Hushpad whipped it out of the way. Then the unexpected—in a liquid movement she whipped around and sliced with her tiny claws a slash across the leathery skin—Skinwretch yelped, and Scratchnail's snarling laughter echoed after the two as soundless, careless, he prowled after them.
The doors were locked and the she-cat had time only to veer before Scratchnail reappeared like liquid shadow before her and trapped her in his massive paws just as easily as before. "We meet again, worm," the Claw purred, a sound filled with broken glass and rust. "I will confess—your little question was quite clever. Perhaps there is more to you than it seems." It became a snarl at the end as he noticed the silver fela was shaking her head.
"No," she was saying, "I just wanted to know. I didn't know you were going to let go of me." Ironic, she was arguing against what might almost have been a compliment from the massive Clawguard—why? To prove her intentions were pure? Scratchnail was a creature of the earth, of the darkness, with claws born red to match the blood that would always coat them.
His lip lifted in a sneer as he breathed down upon her—she visibly recoiled as he growled scornfully, "Well then, surface-rat, I am called Scratchnail. My companion is Skinwretch, he is blind." There, something in her eyes—a flicker of recognition.
Scratchnail pushed his dark face closer to the she-cat so that their whiskers brushed, and she flinched. "But you already know that, don't you?" the spite in his tone singed. "Because my old friend Tailchaser is here, and he's been talking up his adventures like a storm. Now—why don't you tell me where he's hiding, so we can have a little… reunion. Maybe a dinner." With a giant paw Scratchnail experimentally prodded Hushpad, smirking. "What do you think, Skinwretch? Will she feed three?"
The purr from the Toothguard as he sidled around the fela was dangerous, and he turned his empty sockets down towards her with a fang-toothed smile. "Oh, I think so," the hairless creature hissed, wiggling slightly in enthusiasm. Hushpad's wildly fluttering heartbeat resonated in Scratchnail's paw where it lay over her chest, but it brought no burst of adrenaline, no predator's frenzy. No satisfaction whatsoever. Why?
He rather thought it was because Tailchaser had spoiled his taste for slave—that there was no purpose to his life but to eliminate the cat who'd eliminated his home. Tailchaser had not done it for spite, or for justice—he'd done it for his shallow love, who lay now in Scratchail's blood-taloned grasp. And the last thing the orange tom would see would be what he loved torn apart before his gaze, just like Scratchnail.
The thought rather made him pause—had he loved his home, truly? His first response was no, even for he, it had been a place choked with terror, with pain. Even he whose body was built to kill, whose heart was formed of shadows, could never love a place such as Hearteater's domain had been. Yet this very thing made it clear that he could love, and the truth was that he'd had nothing to love but his home- and perhaps his master. Could Skinwretch say the same? Likely enough. Scratchnail found he was impatient with his line of thought and returned to concentrating on Hushpad, whose terrified eyes held a spark of defiance.
"Yes, I know you." Her voice trembled with fear, but Scratchnail was surprised to hear none of the disgust or spite he'd expected. "Fritti told me about you both. And I will not tell you where he went." She lifted her shivering chin, waiting for death. Slowly, Scratchnail smiled.
"Oh, Hushpad," the Clawguard said, and he sounded very disappointed. "Very well. Come on, Skinwretch, we're leaving—obviously the little rat's gone and run away before we got here. How's your nose doing?"
"Almost healed," the Toothguard said, touching one wrinkled paw to his wide, flaring nostrils. They were still marked with terrible scars, but it was no longer a mass of nothingness. "I can track him."
Hushpad piped up in her feeble voice, shocked, "You mean you're just going to leave me?" It was obvious she'd expected some kind of maiming, torture, if not death. Scratchnail turned his head back and suddenly smiled in a way that made the cat underneath his claws shudder in his grasp.
"Oh no," said the jagged voice, "You're coming with us." Hushpad had time only to gasp before with a strike of an inky paw the world passed into unconsciousness.
* * *
The light figure of Pouncequick quivering at his side, the stump on his hindquarters wiggling as the imaginary tail curled and lashed, Tailchaser crept forward. Pawstep by pawstep he drew closer, silent, until one ginger paw settled down over an unseen twig. The snap sent the mouse running, and Tailchaser desperately lunged and fell flat. Burning with embarrassment, the tomcat pulled himself up only to see Pounce straighten back up with the mouse in his jaws.
"I see you're living up to your face name, Pounce!" the orange tomcat mewed, putting his own embarrassment aside. A soft pawstep and a brush of whiskers signaled the appearance of Firsa Roofshadow behind him. She, Fritti was glad to notice, too had caught nothing. Her green eyes gleamed with hidden amusement as she meowed, "I think it's time he became a hunter." Pouncequick swelled with the praise.
"We can all share it," he pointed out quickly, flicking his ears with pride. "Do you really think so, Shadow?"
Fritti purred as she nodded, twitching a whisker as if to say Of course. The ginger tom added, "I think so too, really—you've been through more than half the hunters in the Clan!" Pouncequick looked embarrassed and passed over his mouse. They ate quietly, all in their own thoughts.
"Tailchaser," Roofshadow asked him later when Pouncequick had capered off to play, "If Pounce was to become a full hunter, where would we have to go?" Fritti had thought for a moment and mewed, "Probably back home. To the Meeting Wall Clan. It is a strange journey, but I think I can remember the way."
She nodded, briskly and firmly, as if it was already decided. "Firsthome second, then—first, Pouncequick." A purr hummed in the air and a matching one leapt from Fritti's throat—he wondered what the cats back at the Clan would say when he returned. Did they already know of his adventures? Would they believe him? He remembered fondly Thinbone, his old best friend—yellow and gray tabby, a good cat. He'd come to wish him good luck as Tailchaser had left on his quest to find Hushpad—a quest that he had completed, and left behind.
As if she was following his thoughts, Firsa mewed, "So how was it?" he sent a blank stare in her direction and she hackled slightly, adding, "Your meeting with Hushpad. You spent several suns with her."
Tailchaser flicked an ear at the slight edge to her tone. "She was living in a house of the M'an—she was glad to see me, as I was her, but she has changed—as have I." Roofshadow nodded, face expressionless again, and Tailchaser felt a brief flutter of anxiety. "If she's with the M'an, at least she is safe then. She was in no great danger. You had feared she was part of the Mound—you must be relieved. As am I."
Fritti took a moment to wonder if there was some kind of hidden double-meaning behind her words when the light fur of Pouncequick reappeared. Fritti had gotten used to the thoughtful, sometimes startling light in the cat's eyes—and the terrible injury Scratchnail had given him. "Pounce," he meowed, "Roofshadow and I have decided we're going to take a quick detour back to the Meeting Wall. See if I can talk old Stretchslow into making you a hunter. Think about all the stories we'll have to tell!"
The younger tom's eyes lit up with excitement, and the two older cats shared an amused glance that quickly became awkward and they looked away.
* * *
"Scratchnail, what are we going to do with her?" Skinwretch was complaining. Scratchnail couldn't reply, his mouth was occupied with lifting the unconscious fela above the water as they swam. "She's only going to be a bother—sneaking off, escaping all the time. She can't even be more than a snack!"
"Don't be a fool, Skinwretch," the Clawguard growled through his mouthful. He'd decided to be the one to carry the prisoner, partly because he had the most experience capturing slaves such as this, and partly because he feared the Toothguard's many teeth might draw blood in Skinwretch's mouth and the creature would lose control and eat her. And that was not what he wanted—Scratchnail didn't just want Tailchaser's death. It swum deliciously before his eyes—"Kill me, not Hushpad! Please, kill me!" he wanted the cat to beg, and then he would oblige the tom's request—but not before he slit his lover's throat.
"Trust me, she will not run," Scratchnail mumbled through her fur as he dropped her on the dripping bank. The water shed from Skinwretch's furless frame as he turned his wide nostrils disgustedly on the tabby fela. The black animal continued, "I have carried many prisoners, when we still lived in the mound—and even if she does run, we are faster than she is, and your nose will pick her out wherever she tries to hide. And she is not that smart, anyway."
He explained to Skinwretch the beauty of his plan, but the naked creature seemed uncertain still. "Are you sure Tailchaser will care so much about this little thing?" he nudged the limp body with a toe scornfully. Scratchnail assured him fervently that he was sure. It would be a trouble, obviously, but well worth it.
Skinwretch bared his teeth in a grimace. "Very well then," the Toothguard hissed, "She will come, then. But if we cannot find food, she will have to sacrifice that pretty tail. Or maybe a pretty leg." His laughter filled the black tom with uncertainty as he slung the limp body over a shoulder and they began to run.
Read and review, please, if you can, lol. I'll even give you a piece of the pie I just made. Pear and Ginger, DAAANG. It's a good combo :) yeah, thanks and such.