The next morning dawned cold and wet. Duskpaw shivered as she trotted into the clearing. The low-rank warriors were clustered towards the entrance, shooting nervous glances at the high-rankers. The apprentice quickly joined her Clanmates and sat beside her mother.

"You know what we're going to be doing, right?" Dustfoot murmured. Duskpaw nodded, disgust worming into her stomach. A flash of white from the Tallrock signaled Whitestar's awakening. The tom snapped for Sahorah to stay in the nursery, then set a withering stare on the low-rank cats. "You better not think of running off in the city," he hissed violently. "Or else I'll find you, flay you, and spread your guts across the forest."

Duskpaw glanced at Blizzardpaw. The tom, accompanied by Stormpaw, was standing dutifully by his father's side, though his gaze was shadowed by fear. He met her gaze and smiled, just a little.

After spitting a few more threats, Whitestar began the journey. Before they left, Duskpaw flicked an ear at Shadowpaw and Blightpaw, who were to stay behind. Blightpaw's body was stiff and sore from the fox attack, while Stormpaw, under the meticulous care of Frostydawn, had recovered quickly, though he never hesitated to ask if his savior was okay.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Duskpaw noticed a rank scent. Whitestar suddenly halted. "A dead Twoleg," Dustfoot whispered. "There's blood on its head and a shiny silver and black thing in its paw."

After a few moments of groans and disgusted complaints, Whitestar led the party out of the territory and into unknown land. After an hour of walking, the trees melted to scrubby brush, the grass turned brittle and yellow, and the sun seemed to beat down ferociously. Duskpaw's paws began to hurt after spiking one on a tough blade of grass. After the second hour had passed, Blizzardpaw dropped back to talk with her.

"How are you doing?" he meowed. Duskpaw showed him her pad. "I stabbed it on the grass back there. It's a miracle my paws aren't bloody lumps yet."

Blizzardpaw laughed. "I know. It seems like we've been walking forever, but we left at dawn and it's only sunhigh. I think my dad wants to stop at the edge of the forest. Look, over there."

Duskpaw noticed a thin, wavy line of green on the horizon. "Good," she muttered. "I think one of us will die if we carry on for another hour."

Blizzardpaw shook his head and bounded forward to walk with Frozenpelt. Duskpaw, alone, studied the landscape.

The grass was still parched and yellow, but was somehow able to house many creatures. Before they reached the forest, Duskpaw had startled six mice out of hiding.

Whitestar found a sheltered place for the high-rankers to rest, then sent the low-rank warriors off to hunt. Duskpaw caught two plump squirrels with Darkheart and a vole near a tiny stream. When they got back to the sheltered clearing, the air had begun to cool.

Whitestar noticed the squirrel dangling from Duskpaw's mouth and strutted forward. "Give me that," he commanded. Duskpaw obediently dropped the squirrel at his paws. Whitestar picked it up and marched back to his spot, tail slapping Duskpaw's face.

The travelers rested until sundown, when the low-rankers were required to build dens for their superiors. By the time the final twig was put in place, it was near moonhigh. Duskpaw followed her mother over a dip in the ground, which Dustfoot had lined with ferns. Nightpaw was already sleeping. Duskpaw shot a grateful look at her mother, who replied with "Get some rest, dear. We have at least two days of walking until we reach the city."


Two days of walking indeed. Duskpaw never complained, even when the small hole in her pawpad began to ooze yellow-streaked blood, or when Whitestar denied the low-rank cats food and rest. None of them made a fuss; they would be killed before the fastest-tongued cat could utter "mouse".

On the first day, they journeyed through the forest (which proved to be much more untamed than the one surrounding their home), crossed over a roaring river, and settled in an abandoned Twoleg structure for the night. Blizzardpaw had walked with Duskpaw for the entire day, even offering to catch prey for her when her paw began to ache and swell.

Now in the middle of the second day, Duskpaw wished she'd let the tom find food. With every step, her stomach growled angrily. I wish Whitestar didn't pick me for this stupid trip, she protested silently. My pawpad's infected, I'm starving, and I haven't had a decent sleep since two nights ago.

Whitestar stopped in his tracks. The scent of satisfaction drifted through the air. "City has been sighted!" Glowfur yowled.

Whitestar's drawling mew drifted back. "Of course, there are no Twolegs," he purred. "Only the rats and filth. Come on," he growled, tone brisk. "We've no time to lose. I want to catch a dark-pelt by tonight."

Now moving at a much quicker pace, Duskpaw had a hard time keeping up. Every sharp object in the world seemed to find its way under her injured paw, causing her to stumble and fall to the back of the group.

After two hours of running, with a short break in between, they were near the edge of the city. Duskpaw shivered as the shadows of the buildings surrounded them, even though they were forty fox-lengths away. Even from where they stood, she could see shapes of cats walking on and around the abandoned Thunderpaths, ducking into shaded alleys, and bounding into a structure. With awe, the tan tabby thought, They're like a giant Clan.

Whitesta, not wanting to lose the element of surprise, led his followers into a cramped, abandoned building. Duskpaw was able to find a scrap of Twoleg cloth to sleep on. It smelled faintly like a tom.

Night fell. The sounds of the day silenced, only to amplify the noises from the city. Chanting, whoops, a yowl or two. Many cats grumbled and tried to sleep, but it was no use.

Around moonhigh, a tom's voice drifted in from outside. "You're going to have so much fun tonight... so are you. Ha, we're all going to have the time of our lives!" It was accompanied by two high-pitched giggles.

Duskpaw saw Whitestar's head shoot up. He crept out of the room and into the small path just outside. The entryway to the structure creaked, and the same scent from the nest Duskpaw was lying in filled the room. The voice was singing something, while the gigglers laughed along. There was a sudden shriek, a few splats, and a gurgling noise. Whitestar stepped back into the room, his front soaked in blood.

"That was fun," he purred. "But I think we've rested long enough. Scum-pelts, go find me some rats."


HOLY SNUGGLEPOTS MY FRIENDS! I REPEAT, HOLY SNUGGLEPOTS.

We have reached over 100 reviews on Stories of the Clans! Ermergersh! This is AMAZECANDLES!

QOTD: When you first read Stories of the Clans (if you have), did you think it was going to take off? Don't sugarcoat your answer, I don't mind if you thought it was going to be a fail. All that really matters to me now is that we are at FLIPPING 100 REVIEWS! Isn't that some cool snickerlemurs? Thank you to everyone who ever commented on Stories of the Clans; it wasn't my first story, and it definitely won't end any time soon! Thank you all so much!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Bai!

-A Very Happy Cherrystone