CHAPTER 19

"So, what do you think?" Ratty asked. His voice was strong, proud and clear.

"Quite a shock," Cookiehead chuckled, laying his brown tail over Ratty's gray, strong shoulders. "What do you plan to do with it?"

"The rocket ship?" Ratinia asked. She sounded exasperated, as if she was bored of Cookiehead's antics. "I wonder, Sherlock. Perhaps fly somewhere?"

"Ratinia, don't be a mouse." Ratty glared at Ratinia, anger in his usually warm eyes. He looked back pleadingly at Cookiehead. "Sorry about that. Just Ratinia, grumpy as usual."

"I'm not grumpy!" The tall female rat flicked her strong tail over Ratty's legs, causing him to stumble off balance. Quickly finding his footing, Ratty found a foothold on the wet grass in the clearing. Cookiehead turned to meet the leader rat of the pack.

"So..." Cookiehead mumbled, trying to start up conversation. "You said you met some other cats. Who are they? By any chance, is one of them a yellow tabby tom? And the other one a reddish-brown tom with a serpent for a tail?"

"Sorry, Jeff," Ratty shrugged. "No cigar."

"Jeff?" Cookiehead exclaimed. "My name is Cookiehead."

"You see, I prefer Jeff," Ratty explained. "I've always wanted to name one of my children that."

"Children. Like you'd ever have any," Ratinia scoffed, strolling ahead of the group. Ratty blushed and hurried after Ratinia. Following them was the rest of the pack of rats, followed by Cookiehead in the back. Flustered, he turned around to see sunlight shining directly on him. It was high greenleaf, and the trees and flowers were rich with the scents of prey and sweet smells. This was almost a perfect place to make camp, if he had been leader of a Clan.

A perfect place to make camp. The sudden thought jerked Cookiehead back to the present, thinking about OtherClan and the looming threat. They were here, in the Unknown Forest. Only their leader. And we have twice as many cats as they do. They don't seem as much as a threat as they should...but Bananastar was prophecized to die in this battle. Cookiehead dug his claws into the muddy earth as they passed over a bridge, stretching over a large river of water whirch curved around through the clearing. Several rats passed them, carrying pounds of books, whistling "Tiptoe through the Tulips" by Tiny Tim.

"Hallo, Dexter!" Ratty greeted, waving at a gray rat with red eyes. On second thought, Cookiehead thought, all these rats have gray fur and red eyes. How can they tell each other apart?

"Hallo, Leader!" Dexter greeted respectfully back. Broken glasses perched on the edge of his nose, only held together with Scotch tape. A quick look at the book he was holding confirmed Cookiehead's worst suspicions-it was math. Calculus and Algebra - Volume 2. Cookiehead stuck out his tongue and ran forward to Ratty, brushing several rats as he ran by.

"Ouch!" a rat exclaimed. "Don't be a mouse, you idiot cat!"

Feeling hurt, Cookiehead trotted up to Ratty. Cats aren't idiots. If anything, rats are. But he didn't say anything to Ratty. The more I know about these strange Rat Banditos, the more it helps. It's best not to get on their bad side.

"Oh, don't worry about Diggs," Ratty sighed, waving his tail smoothly towards the gray mouse with red eyes. "He's a bit of a jerk, but don't worry, we all get used to him. He's not that bad."

"Just asking," Cookiehead prompted, "how do you tell apart all the rats? They all have gray fur with red eyes."

"You can't tell?" Ratty asked. He almost stopped short, his red eyes bulging at Cookiehead. "I'd say they're quite easy to remember once you know them. There's Ares, Meson, March, Bandit, Nooji, Nostradamus, Pirat, DaVinci..." He rattled off a list of names, pointing to each rat with his long gray tail.

"Did someone say my name, Leader?" A large, broad-shouldered gray rat with red eyes strolled up to Ratty, pounding his chest. He had old, gray whiskers, a broad muzzle, and several cuts in one ear. Looking around, Cookiehead noticed some other rats had the exact same marking. What a whole bunch of weirdos! First their pelt, then their eyes, then their markings, and even the spaceship! Come to think about it, it seems like Ratinia is the only female as well? Deciding not to dwell on it, Cookiehead hung loosely beside Ratty, watching the newcomer rat as they continued to march orderly towards the clearing, although Cookiehead was walking more like the third wheel.

"Yes, yes, DaVinci, I was just showing our newcomer Jeff here all of the new rats," Ratty proudly announced. He took a closer look at DaVinci's strong chest. "You're very strong, I see. Have you been working out recently?"

"Sure I have," DaVinci growled, pounding his chest once more. "In fact, I've just started lifting the 200-pound weights."

Ratty playfully punched DaVinci. "Go figure. You think you can make it to 300?"

"Sure as blackberries on a stick," DaVinci laughed. He took a closer look at Cookiehead, examing his pelt, whiskers, tail, nose, and muzzle closely. DaVinci took a closer look at Cookiehead's chest, even, only to laugh. "Haha!" he exclaimed. "You weak cat! You should really take a look at my personal gym someday."

"I really should," Cookiehead mumbled, but he slunk back, embarrased. How dare this rat blame him for his muscles? He didn't even know there was a way to get stronger on your own. How strange these rats were! And how strange their personalities were as well!

"Oh, c'mon, DaVinci," Ratty muttered, rolling his eyes. They were very close to the clearing now, approaching each of their seperate dens. "Now, listen to me, friend. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Oh, defs," DaVinci laughed, elbowing Ratty with gusto. "What is it, my pal?"

"Be nice to Jeff over here, okay?" Ratty asked, pointing his long gray tail to the cat. "He probably feels a bit out of place, being the only cat in a bunch of rats, alright. And you know we've seen cats before, so we all know they're not as bad as they look, though Bongo might think differently. Alright? Just be this guy's best friend. Help him feel welcome. He's obviously going through a hard time."

Cookiehead rolled his eyes. Him going through a tough time? If any animals were going through a tough time, it were these rats.

"Sure thing, Ratty," DaVinci laughed, turning around to face Cookiehead. "Haven't seen one of you critters around here in a while. Welcome to the Rat Banditos!"

Cookiehead respectfully dipped his head to the gray rat with red eyes. "Pleasure to meet you, DaVinci. How's the prey running?"

"Oh, shut up with the formalities!" DaVinci chortled, falling in place with Cookiehead's side as he rolled his red eyes playfully. "Here in the Rat Banditos, at least to me, we're all best pals. Haven't seen one of you cats in a long while."

"While?" Cookiehead almost stopped short as they neared the clearing. A waterfall tumbled down a nearby rock, and several hollows and dips scattered the large outpost. "You've seen more of them? When?"

"I knew you'd ask that question," DaVinci laughed. "Well, anyways, Jeff, a group of cats came in here...when? About a month or two ago? Is that right, Ratty?" DaVinci looked pointedly at Ratty, who replied, blushing, "Yes, that's correct."

"So that's it then," DaVinci responded, turning back to face Cookiehead. The deputy's black fur bristled with anticipation. The rat continued, "the group of cats left not too long ago. Maybe two weeks ago? Anyways, they almost became like family. They were amazing, and it was a shame they had to leave."

"Who were they?" Cookiehead questioned anxiously, his head moving closer to the gray rat. "Why did they leave? Was any one of them named Rottenegg?" Cookiehead remembered his last encounter with Rottenegg, and shivered, thrills running from his head to his tail-tip. It had all been a dream...but it didn't seem that way. He had spent nearly a week sleeping, and he knew something was up with this Unknown Forest, whatever it may be.

Being naive as DaVinci was, he answered all the questions without any sign of hesitation. Flexing his muscles, he continued, "They were weak, thin-pelted cats. I'd say they needed a bit more work in my gym, or at least when they first arrived. There were three of them, all very close. I think they called themselves the Marsh Riders, or Snow Gallows, but I don't exactly remember. They never said their names, so we called them Hank, Tank, and Rank. And about the way they left..." DaVinci stopped, staring out into the cold thin air as they halted by the clearing.

"What? Why'd they leave?" Cookiehead looked to his left, noting that Ratty and Ratinia had slid to a halt as well, and taking a quick glance behind him, he noted that all the other rats had stopped too. Looking around, Cookiehead saw nothing notable, but as he looked up, he noted some rats scurrying through the trees. The clearing was only a couple of fox-lengths away, and he could see the rats racing around in the muddy dirt. Above them was the huge leaf that housed the spaceship, bending over with the stress. Trees stretched in every direction higher than their naked eyes could see, and plants growed everywhere on the peaty ground. Cookiehead felt the ground with a paw, feeling its soft, smooth, and wet mushy surface.

A couple of gray rats with red eyes ran down from trees and dashed past the group, all save but one. His whiskers twitched as he looked at the group, and he smirked, hatred flaring in his eyes. Cookiehead tried to look past him to see the running rats, but they were far away by now. They ran very fast compared to the cats in CrazyClan, Cookiehead remembered with a twinge of pain to his heartstrings.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" the large gray rat smirked at Cookiehead with a tilt of his head and a scoff. "Another cat? Don't be a mouse, Ratty. Cats are nothing but trouble for the Banditos. Nobody likes them, and they can lose their temper often. Remember the last bunch of cats we had? How much trouble they were?"

DaVinci protectively stepped in front of Cookiehead. "Hey, don't insult him," the gray rat spat. "He's normal, just like all of us. And to be honest, he's a nice guy too," he added with a flick of his tail.

The other rat just rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Ratty. Soon we won't be called the Rat Banditos. We'll be called the Cat Banditos. Because that's all you like to do. Take in some stupid cats. What do they do for the group? It's just an extra mouth to feed."

"What do kits do?" Ratty snapped, his snout flashing forward with a threatening bite of his jaw near the other rat's nose. "They're just another mouth to feed."

"At least they grow up to be fine warriors," the other rat added with a swish of his tail, his head up high.

"Cats can be just as fine warriors as rats," Ratty retorted. "What's so bad about them? Hm, Bongo? No retort, I see?"

Ratinia seemed to hang her head low as she stepped forward, her short pink tail sweeping the ground in a circle formation, carving out dirt. "Actually, Ratty, I agree with Bongo," she murmured, stepping forward to stand by the stocky gray rat. Her red eyes flashed with remembrance. "The last bunch of cats we had was nothing but trouble. They lazed around all day, eating all our prey and not helping with the work. What makes you think Jeff would be any different?"

Cookiehead sensed an argument brewing, and had the nerve to back away, but DaVinci called him back with a quick flick of his ear. "There's no backing away now!" DaVinci growled, flexing his claws angrily, pushing them into the soft mud. "Show these rats you're not a coward! You can fight and hunt just as well as any rat. Right?"

Can I? Cookiehead was filled with doubts, but he stepped forward to meet Bongo nose-to-nose, although it was more like chest-to-nose, as cats are extremely large compared to rats. Bongo just sharpened his claws on a nearby log, showing them to Cookiehead. "You want to mess with these?" he hissed. "Cats are just weak skinny-pelts that can't do anything for themselves. No wonder they always need Twolegs to take care of them."

Cookiehead wanted to strike a blow to the rat's head, but he thought better of it. DaVinci gave him a sharp nudge. "C'mon!" he exclaimed. "Hit 'im! Hit him and rip out his eardrums to show him what you can do?"

I can't. I can't hurt a rat. Every other rat would think I'm a monster. I don't want to be a monster. Cookiehead slowly dug his claws into the earth and shook his head. "I can't," he murmured weakly. "I can't fight a rat. I wouldn't hurt one of you. Even if you are teasing me."

"Even if I were to do...this?" Bongo flashed out a sharp paw and slashed it across Cookiehead's nose. Stumbling backwards, the tom collapsed onto his black hind legs. Red droplets of blood seeped onto the wet grass, forming small dark wet spots on the terrain.

DaVinci looked almost disappointed, but he stepped in front of Cookiehead, his fur bristling. "Now, now, Bongo, that's enough," he hissed. "You hurt this cat one more time, I'm going to rip your fur off and make it my bedding for tonight!"

"You see! That's what he is. Weak." Bongo smirked and flicked his tail to another cat in the crowd, standing, shocked behind Cookiehead. Cookiehead sorely turned his head to see a long-furred gray rat with red eyes stepping forward to stand by Bongo's side. "What do you think of him? Do you think he's a weak cat? Or-" he put lots of emphasis in his words-"could he kill me in a fight?"

"He could never kill you," DaVinci growled, Ratty slowly shrinking away in fear. Glancing at him disapprovingly, he continued, "If he wants a real challenge, he should try to kill me. Because that's what you do all day, Bongo, you hypocrite. Laze around and eat prey that you don't deserve."

"Wow, I really wonder who will win this battle," murmured the author. "It's getting pretty heated up."

"Diggs, give him a slash to the throat," Bongo spat. His claws were sharp, and etches were carved into the nearby log. His red eyes glinted with obvious enmity, and his ears twitched with excitement. "Diggs, kill him and make his death quick."

Diggs, the gray rat who was called up, shivered with fear. He turned to Bongo, his legs quivering as if he was standing on a log. "Do I have to? Bongo?"

"KILL HIM OR I'LL SLICE HIS THROAT MYSELF!" the rat yelled. His voice echoed across the entire clearing, and Cookiehead trembled to his legs with fear. He raised his claws and stepped forward to meet the rat. His chest was wet with blood, and he felt weakened with his legs against the cold peaty mud. I won't kill a rat. I'm not a monster. Cookiehead turned to Ratty, looking for answers, but Ratty had hidden in a bush, watching the battle from afar. A coward, as usual. Cookiehead next turned to DaVinci, but he had stepped away, his eyes looking approvingly at Cookiehead.

"This is a battle that you have to fight yourself," DaVinci explained, giving Cookiehead a thumbs-up. "Good luck, Jeff. Not like you'll need it, buddy."

Cookiehead, feeling more stressed out than ever, stepped to meet Diggs chest-to-nose once more, though Diggs was slightly shorter and it was more like hips-to-nose. Cookiehead looked down at Diggs small, rawboned body, and he shivered with corruption. I can't kill a rat. I won't kill a rat. I will never be a monster. But DaVinci had said this was a battle he had to fight. A battle to prove his worth. A battle to prove that he wasn't a weak cat. A battle to prove that he could be part of the Rat Banditos himself.

"Bongo, he looks strong," Diggs mumbled, trembling with fear. Cookiehead almost felt delighted at the sign of Diggs' distress, but he shoved the feelings away in a dark corner and looked down at Diggs, trying to think of happier thoughts. Bongo scowled and looked at Diggs again, raising his claws in warning. "You kill him, or I'll kill him myself."

"And what if he kills me?" Diggs' voice was still trembling and fearful, but Cookiehead tried his best not to let it get to his head. Think of flowers. Pretty flowers. Like roses. Man, I like roses. The CrazyClan territory had some roses. But it also had violets. They were blue violets. But aren't violets violet? But we have blue violets. And if violets are blue, and roses are red, is sugar sweet? Or is it violets are red, roses are sweet, and sugar is blue? Snapping back to attention, he looked up to see Bongo give a very harsh reply.

"Then we rid the Clan of a useless warrior. Who can't even defeat a cat."

There was no hatred in Bongo's voice, only pure annoyance. Diggs', quivering, looked up at Cookiehead's head(which was round like a cookie, as you probably already know.) His claws were dug into the ground, and Cookiehead couldn't help but think strategically of how much battle problems that would cause. He also noted a strangely placed hind leg, too far back, which would affect how far he could leap. Why am I noticing all this stuff now? I've never had the taste of battle before?

"The battle begins in five...four...three...two..." Bongo's voice was loud and clear, and Cookiehead didn't even notice that every cat in the clearing had stopped to watch the drama unfold. He was even unaware of DaVinci's hoping eyes trained on him, and Ratty watching him from a faraway bush. All he could think about was the color of roses and violets. Pretty flowers.

"GO, JEFF!" Cookiehead wasn't sure where the voice came from, whether it was Ratty, DaVinci, or someone else altogether. But the exclamation had likely been a trick-it was a brief moment of distraction that caused Cookiehead to miss Bongo's final words.

"One."

Before Cookiehead could take his attention back to the real matter at hand, the battle, Diggs was on top of him. Cookiehead was forced to turn his brain to strategical thinking as Diggs' sharp claws dug into his shoulders. He has a weak chest. That means I can easily pound on that and turn him belly up. Cookiehead slammed his round head into Diggs' stomach, causing him to bowl over in shock, surprise, and pain, which gave Cookiehead the brief moment he needed to scramble to his muscled feet. But Diggs was faster, and he leapt to his feet so quick he sped behind Cookiehead, nipped his ankle, and gave him a sharp shove.

"Of course, the rat is winning. As usual." Only the mere thought of Bongo's almost bored words echoing in Cookiehead's mind gave him the strength he needed to get back to his feet and spin around, looking for his next attack. But as he looked around, he realized that Diggs was nowhere to be seen. Did he surrender? Was I too strong for him? And what color are roses and violets? All Cookiehead could see was DaVinci and Bongo watching him eagerly. Was that Ratty moving a little closer?

"What the-"

A flimsy branch shook above Cookiehead's head, shaking dark autumn leaves down onto the mud. Distracted, Cookiehead barely noticed Diggs swing down from the vibrating branch and knock Cookiehead straight in the head. With a yelp of surprise, Diggs dug his sharp claws into the back of Cookiehead's spine and clung on like a rodeo horse as Cookiehead attempted to shake him off. No! No! He's suffocating me! Diggs' paws tightened around Cookiehead's throat, trying to cut off his air supply.

No matter how much Cookiehead struggled, he couldn't get out of Diggs' iron-clad grip. Claws dug into the bones ridging his throat, and short streams of blood spurted out of his now wet black fur. In defense, Cookiehead dug his claws into the mud and kicked out one of his back legs, catching his enemy into the throat. Not used to being attacked so ferociously, Diggs recoiled, almost slipping on the red blood that coated the arena. Cookiehead quickly spun around and leapt so now he was the one pinning Diggs down.

Cookiehead, taking his time, slowly slid out his claws and held them to Diggs' throat. I can't kill him. I'm not a monster. Ignoring the loud shouts of, "KILL HIM!" in the background, Cookiehead began to focus on Diggs' weaknesses. He has weak legs. He's not fast enough. And he doesn't know how to fight for his own life. But then again, he has assets too. He can climb trees. He has very strong claws. And he will kill if he has too.

"KILL HIM!" yelled DaVinci. Cookiehead could just imagine the broad-shouldered, strong gray rat pounding his chest and raising his arms into the air with a caterwaul. He will kill if he has to. The words repeated in his mind, over and over, echoing. A good warrior will kill if he has to. A good deputy will kill if he has to. I will kill if I have to.

Cookiehead's claws where at Diggs' throat, and the black warrior was only faintly aware of Bongo watching him from afar. Diggs was coughing out blood as Cookiehead's thorn-sharp claws dug into his skin. Am I being too harsh? He quickly shook his head. No. A good deputy, a good warrior, a good leader, even I will kill if I have to. And I have to, now. But even repeating the words in his mind made him have some regrets. He looked down at Diggs, at his whimpering, compulsing body.

"Should I kill you?" he asked, his voice low.

Diggs nodded weakly, blood dribbling down his chin. "Yes," he croaked. "Kill me. Just like Bongo said, you'll rid the Banditos of one useless warrior. You taught me something, Jeff. You taught me...you taught me that a good warrior must be stronger than all the rest to prevail." He slowly tilted his head to the side. "Now kill me, Jeff. Kill me."

Cookiehead shivered, all of his muscles spasming with fear as he raised his paw up to the sky, his claws glinting against the white sunlight. Blood pounded through his ears so loud he couldn't hear anything but his own breathing...and of course, the blood pounding through his ears. He was almost certain DaVinci and Ratty were there, cheering for him. He was almost certain Bananastar was there, cheering for him, too, although he wasn't. He was even faintly aware of Serpentslap cheering for him. But it wasn't all those things driving him to kill. It was his own mind.

Letting out a quick breath, Cookiehead slammed his paw down and slit Diggs' throat.