Chapter 5

Splashpaw groaned and opened her eyes. There before her stood Sylvia, the black and white she-cat who had taken her from MistClan. Splashpaw lay in a nest in the branches of a tree. Other trees held the other rogues. Sylvia had been kind enough to prevent her from being killed by the others. The leader of the 'pack', as they had named themselves a pack after a pack of wolves, was Tiger, a fox-colored tabby tom with white paws, Splashpaw was lucky to be alive. Whatever Sylvia had told Tiger had caused him to order the other rogues to stop.

Legend had it that the pack leader had nine lives and could talk to wolves and dogs, even coyotes, whatever coyotes were, Splashpaw didn't know. Sylvia had been taking care of her, even teaching her how to hunt. It was now nearing the full moon, two weeks after Splashpaw had been captured. Sylvia had advised Splashpaw not to act against the rogues, for then Tiger would have a meaning to kill her. But Splashpaw was worried. She had a feeling that whatever Sylvia had told Tiger was not good.

"Good morning!" Sylvia meowed in her thick accent. It was completely different from any Clan cats, even the other rogues. Her voice was thick yet smooth, very perfect. There was never a rasp in Sylvia's voice. Splashpaw couldn't imagine Sylvia's voice in a rasp.

Splashpaw smiled. Sylvia had been her only friend here, ironically, and the two had come close. "Hello," Splashpaw meowed.

Sylvia smiled. "Ready to go hunting?" she asked.

"Sure!" Splashpaw exclaimed, leaping to her paws.

Splashpaw followed Sylvia out into the forest, heading farther and farther from the Clan territories. Sylvia led her to an old Twoleg barn on the territory. The smell of mice immediately flooded Splashpaw's nose.

Splashpaw purred at the smell, her mouth watering at the thought of sinking her teeth into one of those juicy mice. Sylvia signaled and both she-cats crouched, narrowing their eyes. Splashpaw placed one paw in front of the other, slowly sliding towards her target, a fat mouse crunching on a nut it apparently had found not too long ago. Splashpaw pounced, unsheathing her claws when she came to the peak of her jump, and landed upon the mouse. She gave it the death bite and raised her head to look at Sylvia, who was crouching over a mouse she had just killed.

Splashpaw tucked the mouse she had killed underneath a bale of hay in the barn. She turned to find two mice cowering from her, their black eyes wide with fear and their heads low to the ground as though to protect themselves. Splashpaw chuckled. Do those mice really think they can get away from me? Splashpaw pounced at the two mice. Both squealed and the older, fatter mouse leapt at her. Splashpaw squeaked as the mouse bit into her muzzle. Sylvia appeared out of nowhere and hit the mouse off of her, killing it instantly, and turned to the second. Sylvia darted forward and lashed out with one paw, killing the mouse, and picked both mice up and turned to Splashpaw.

Splashpaw's face burned with embarrassment, and she licked her chest fur a few times to try to hide it. "Don't bite off more than you can chew, Splashpaw," Sylvia mewed lightheartedly. Obviously Sylvia forgave her for sending all of the mice back to their dens and leaving the two with only a few mice to bring back.

Splashpaw and Sylvia each took two mice and began to head back to camp. Sylvia glanced at Splashpaw and meowed, "You know, if you want, you could just be accepted here."

Splashpaw looked at her with surprise. "But I thought Tiger hated me!" Splashpaw exclaimed.

Sylvia shook her head. "We could always use more cats, especially those capable of good hunting and have amazing fighting skills," Sylvia meowed.

Splashpaw studied her and mewed, "What do you mean?"

Sylvia answered her plainly, "Well, I saw you that day. The day I brought you here. Despite your orders, you decided to fight because you knew what was right. We could use cats like that."

Splashpaw bristled. "My Clan! They're so worried about me! I know it! Please, Sylvia! Let me go back to them! My sisters... they need me!" Splashpaw begged.

Sylvia stared at her a moment before replying, "Splashpaw... you realize that if you go back, no one will like you."

Splashpaw shook her head almost violently, "No! That's not true!"

"Splashpaw, your Clan hasn't even looked for you," Sylvia pointed out. "Let's face it, your Clan doesn't care for you."

Splashpaw shook her head once more, "No! That's not my Clan, Sylvia!"

"Splashpaw. You're too young. If you back, you'll find your Clan doesn't even care anymore," Sylvia explained. "It has happened to me before. There is no way that your Clan will take you back."

Splashpaw shook her head again, "No."

Sylvia smiled weakly before mewing, "Splashpaw, your Clan no longer cares. Your sisters... don't even care. Your mother... doesn't even care. And your father... hates you."

"How do you know!" Splashpaw hissed.

"I've seen them," Sylvia responded.

"No you haven't!" Splashpaw hissed.

"I have. Your father was cursing you, your mother was telling your father to stop thinking about you, and your sisters were angry at you," Sylvia mewed. "They are leaving you behind, Splashpaw."

"Which is why I must catch up to them!" Splashpaw retorted.

Sylvia hung her head. "I cannot let you."

"Why not!?" Splashpaw growled.

"I don't want you to suffer," Sylvia meowed.

Splashpaw grew silent. She didn't know what to say to her friend. What could she say? She had no proof. Only Sylvia had proof. And Splashpaw trusted her. The two she-cats soon arrived back at camp. Splashpaw leapt up into the nest first and Sylvia followed. Splashpaw felt as though she was a bird, as usual, living in a tree. Splashpaw curled up, feeling the branch bounce as the wind swayed it gently. Soon, Splashpaw was folded in the warm blanket of sleep.

Me: Poor Splashpaw wishes to return home. I'm sure that I would. But Sylvia won't let her. I just want to let you know, in my head, for some reason, Sylvia has a Russian accent. So I can be reassured, please tell me in a review if that's what you thought of, because that's what I thought of.

I do not own, or claim to own, Warriors, Erin Hunter does.