AN: What can I say? When you've got the writing bug, writing is all ya wanna do~
Four day weekend helps, tho.
C h a p t e r 35: Forest
He woke up slowly, stretching and curling his tongue. He stared bleakly ahead of himself, staring into the thick reeds. The night before had been cold, without anyone sleeping next to him, even little Shimmer. And when he woke up, there wasn't a pile of fresh prey waiting for him.
He shook himself. You lived as a loner for how long, exactly? He thought. Living with the Clan made you soft there, but you'll get over it. You're living the life now; you're a loner again. Be happy!
But he wasn't. In fact, he was fairly sure his whiskers were drooping.
You did what you had to, he thought firmly. She was too afraid…and she might have left the Clan for it. They were your friends, and she was always happiest when she was with them. Not when she was with you.
But every time he saw her face, her expression right before he disappeared, it felt as if his heart splintered just a little bit more.
He shook himself again as his stomach growled loudly. You're not going to find prey thinking about her.
He rose to his paws, shaking the mud from his fur, shivering; the marsh was a cold place, especially when you were alone.
He pricked his ears, listening intently to the sounds of the reeds brushing against each other, the marsh water lapping against the dark mud, the red-winged blackbirds chirping brightly to one another.
He fell into a hunter's crouch, slipping forward, pushing his way through the thick reeds as quietly as possible. The sound of the birds grew louder in his ears, and using their song as his guide, he pounced at the faint flicker of red in the stalks. The red-winged blackbird let out a chirp as his claws enclosed it, and he finished it with a swift bite. It wasn't a large meal, being mostly feathers, but it was enough.
He ate quickly, casting furtive glances around himself with each bite – without others to watch for danger with him, he was vulnerable – finally sitting back and licking his whiskers clean as he finished his meal. Without the insistent hunger pangs, his mind felt much more clear.
His thoughts turned towards his future. Always, when he had been in the forest, there had been the knowledge that if he ever tired of loner life he could return home to Mother, and his waiting father. But Buck had brought news of Mother's demise, and his father's own stubborn death; there was no home waiting for him any longer. His ears flattened, and he let out a morose sigh.
Loner life is the tops…but having a bit of security was always nice, he thought. Now I don't even have that. I really am out here on my own this time.
Restlessly, he rose to his paws, turning towards the roaring Thunderpath. For a moment, he wondered if he could somehow jump onto one of the monsters, ride with it wherever it was going, enjoy the feeling of the wind on his face and the rush of exhilaration as the Thunderpath flashed by underneath him. He quickly shook his head; it was a foolish, impossible idea, probably suicidal. And yet, there was something alluring about the power of the monsters, how they could race to wherever they pleased without regard for anyone or anything. That was the freedom he had always craved, until he found Silverstreak.
The thought of her made him bow his head, his heart clenching just a little bit tighter. The wind changed, bringing the filthy scent of the Thunderpath to his nose. Then, his eyes widened, as he caught another scent.
Before he could stop himself he had sprang forwards, following the scent. He raced towards the Thunderpath, stopping in front of the tunnel that led underneath it. He took in a deep breath; there was no denying it. Under the stench of the Thunderpath was Silverstreak's sweet scent.
He peered into the darkness of the tunnel, but could not see her; his heartbeat slowly quieted as he realized the scent was old; she had been here yesterday.
Did she come looking for me? He wondered. I thought I had covered my scent in the mud after I ran off…but did she see my paw prints in the stream and track me here? But why not continue?
His ears flattened, and he gave his chest a quick lick; wanting to see her would not make her appear. Perhaps it had been chance that had led her here, nothing more and nothing less. She hadn't loved him anyway.
And yet, those eyes, so full of pain as he had vanished into his domain….
He looked away from the tunnel, shaking himself. Thinking about it would only make the pain worse, and he wasn't sure he could stand that.
So what am I going to do? He wondered. The life of a loner is fun, yes, but only when you have something to fall back on. I no longer have Mother or the Clan waiting for me. I'm on my own. A moon ago I would have relished this, but now…I just feel purposeless.
What am I supposed to do?
He padded back towards the reeds, finding the flattened area where he had slept; a few feathers were all that remained of his meal. Already the other birds were singing, their fallen comrade swiftly forgotten in the struggle for survival.
Will I be erased from the Clan's memory so easily? They have pressing matters to deal with, Lion and PeakClan…and Blizzardkit and Frostfeather's kits never knew me. The next generation will have no idea I even existed.
His heart seemed to constrict, and he shook himself again. I cannot fall into such hopelessness.
He padded through the reeds, towards the water that had collected in the center of the marsh. It was this pool that was responsible for the marsh itself; it led off into a small stream, twisting through the grass and reeds. Without this pool, the marsh and the creatures living within it would not exist.
He stared into it, seeing his reflection in the dark water. The water did not so much as ripple; it was still, eerily so. He could see his eyes glinting back at him, and he tried to give his reflection a heartening smile, but it did not curl up on one side like it did when he was truly happy. His eyes darkened, and the smile faded as he turned his face to the sky.
What am I supposed to do? He wondered again. Spend the rest of my days catching birds, trailing after scents, smiling at my own reflection? I'm half-mad already.
I wanted to be a nomad when I was younger; Timber and I had so many fights about that. I probably still have the scars. He cared about me, but he wasn't…he didn't understand. And yet, once I found my forest it was like the urge to roam had vanished, like I was tied there.
But I don't have those ties anymore. Should I become a nomad now? Roam the world, see the sights, visit other forests, other Twolegplaces, other marshes?
But the idea didn't hold the sweet, seductive promise it had once held, the promise that had caused him to flee Mother in the first place. Its luster had vanished; it now seemed dull, unattractive.
So what, then? He thought, digging his claws into the soft, dark mud with frustration. What am I supposed to do? What is there left to me? I'm not just going to rot out here, so close to Silverstreak!
A sudden rustle made him turn, claws unsheathed, fur bristling. He opened his mouth, smelling cat mixed with the Twolegplace. One of the rogues of the city, surely. For the moment, this marsh is mine, until I decide what to do. I can't have trespassers.
With a snarl, he lunged, paws outstretched. He knocked the cat to the ground, pinning him down; the cat stared up at him with wide, frightened amber eyes. Forest blinked in surprise; the cat was young, his blue-gray kit-fluff still barely hanging on in patches.
The cat trembled with fright beneath him, and Forest quickly moved backwards, allowing the tom to rise to his paws. He did not, simply lying there, a terrified look gleaming in his amber eyes.
"Don't hurt me," he whimpered. "I'm just here to hunt!"
Forest blinked slowly, staring at him. "I'm not going to hurt you. Why are you here? What's your name?"
The tom watched him uncertainly, rising to his paws slowly. "My name's Thistle, and I'm hunting."
Forest blinked at him. "I can see you're hunting, Thistle. Who are you hunting for? Cane?"
Thistle looked confused. "Cane? What's that?"
Forest licked his chest thoughtfully. "He's a boss in the city. Do you live there, or in the marsh?"
"We live in the marsh," Thistle meowed, then winced; it was obvious he thought he'd let something valuable slip.
"Who's 'we'?" Forest asked. "Who are you hunting for?"
Thistle glanced around as if help might leap out at any moment, before flattening his ears and staring down at his blue-gray paws. "I'm hunting for my mother."
Forest frowned; Thistle still looked young enough that his mother should be hunting for him. "Why are you hunting for her? Is she injured?"
Thistle licked his nose nervously. "Um, kind of…look, can I just go? Please? I won't hunt on your territory if you don't like it, honest."
"It's not my territory, not yet," Forest meowed. "I'm just a visitor here. I was considering claiming it as my own, but if other cats live here…."
"Not other cats, just me and my mom," Thistle mumbled. "We can leave, if that's what you want."
Forest shook his head. "If you were here first, you're welcome to the territory." He hesitated, then asked, "would you like some help, hunting for your mother?"
Thistle's amber eyes flicked up at him quickly, as if he couldn't believe the offer. Forest gave him a warm smile, and Thistle hesitantly smiled back.
"That would be nice," he said quietly. "My dad promised to teach me, but…." His ears flattened down again. Forest flicked his tail.
"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," he meowed. Thistle shot him a grateful glance, and followed Forest as he padded into the reeds.
"The most important thing about hunting is finding your prey without them finding you," Forest said quietly as he crept through the undergrowth. "You have to be quiet and light on your paws; some prey can feel the vibrations of your steps. Birds are the most numerous thing here, so that's what we're going after."
Thistle blinked. "How do you catch a bird? They can fly."
"True, and their hearing is quite good, but they can't feel you coming," Forest meowed. "You can take heavy steps while sneaking up on birds, so long as you don't make much noise. Birds also have an awful sense of smell, so you don't have to worry about being up or downwind." He opened his mouth, letting the murky scents of the marsh flood in. His ear turned to the left, hearing a call.
"That way," he whispered to Thistle, who crept after him; he knew the young cat was trying to be quiet, but his footsteps seemed to grate against Forest's ears. He held up his tail, signaling for Thistle to stop as they neared the bird, but the young cat didn't understand, plodding forward. Forest nipped his shoulder gently, and Thistle turned with a hiss; before Forest could react the little tom had raked his claws down Forest's muzzle, and crouched, letting out a growl.
The wound stung a little, but it was not deep; Forest simply stared at Thistle. "What was that?" he spat. "I was trying to help!"
His voice alerted the nearby bird, which flew away with a flutter of its brightly-colored wings.
"You bit me!" Thistle growled. "You attacked!"
Forest was almost amused. "If I had attacked you, you'd be bleeding," he pointed out. "Holding up my tail was a signal for you to stop, we were close to the bird. You didn't, so I tried to get your attention by nipping you."
Thistle was watching him distrustfully, but there was a sheepish look in his eyes. His shoulders suddenly slumped.
"I'm sorry," he meowed. "Dad didn't teach me any of this, but he said I should always be aware that other cats, no matter how nice, might just by lying to you and wanting to hurt you…." He stared down at his paws, shame in his amber eyes. Forest sighed, touching him with his tail.
"It's alright. Want to try again?"
. . .
Thistle trotted through the reeds, beaming with pride at the bird clutching in his jaws. It had taken him three tries to get a bird that he could catch, and it was a little on the small side, but Forest had congratulated him anyway.
Forest himself held another bird; this one was for Thistle himself, as the bird Thistle had caught was for his mother.
"We're close," Thistle purred, his voice muffled by feathers as he sprang forward, slipping but not falling in the slick mud.
A space of flattened reeds opened up before them; it was obvious several cats had slept here the night before. Thistle padded forward without fear, dropping the bird and racing towards a still lump of fur that Forest realized must be his muzzle. He nuzzled her shoulder, and she blinked slowly, staring at the two of them.
"Hello, Thistle," she mewed, a note of uncertainty in her voice as she blinked her wide blue eyes at them. "Is this cat another one of our friends?"
Forest glanced at Thistle, confused, but he was smiling. "No, Mom, he's just a cat I found. He helped me catch this bird, look!" Thistle gestured towards one of the birds with pride. The she-cat stared at it, then nodded.
"Is your father coming back?" she asked, and the pride seemed to fade out of Thistle. He cast his eyes downwards.
"No, I didn't see him at all," he meowed quietly. Then, he brightened, pushing the bird towards her. "Eat it," he purred, and turned to Forest. "Forest, this is my mom, Brightflash. Mom, this is Forest."
Brightflash gave him a little nod, and pulled the bird towards her; Forest's eyes widened as he saw the paw was white, and realized that under all the dark mud her pelt was the color of clouds at sunhigh.
Forest dropped his bird for Thistle, and turned to leave, only to see the young tom watching him with amber eyes.
"Are you leaving?" he asked, and Forest nodded. Thistle looked down at his paws. "Could you be persuaded to stay?"
Forest hesitated. "Why?"
"Well, it took me forever to catch this one bird…and I have to feed both of us. And if Dad never comes back…." He trailed off. "We might, um, need some help around here."
Forest was uncertain; he didn't want to stay here and take care of strange Brightflash and little Thistle forever. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life now, but that wasn't it.
Then, something occurred to him. "Would you like to live with other cats?" he asked. "I know a group that has a she-cat about your age, and some younger kits as well."
Thistle's ears pricked. "Where? Are they nice?"
"They're very nice," Forest meowed, and flicked his tail towards the Thunderpath, although it was too far away to see. "It's not very far. You just go through the tunnel under the Thunderpath, and follow the little stream you find there. It'll lead you to a big river. Don't cross the river, but hide on the bank, and you'll find the cats that live on that side. They'll gladly take you in." He paused for a moment. "They live according to a special sort of code, so it might take some getting used to, but you and your mother will be very happy there, I'm sure."
Until Lion comes, Forest thought, his conscience needling him; he shook himself. Silverstreak will keep him safe, and they need all the warriors they can get if things don't work out. He'll be fine.
Thistle's eyes glowed. "That sounds really cool!" he purred, and turned to his mother. "You like that idea, Mom?"
She stared at Forest with glassy blue eyes, and gave a feeble shrug as she nibbled the bird. Thistle smiled at her.
"Are you coming to?" he asked, turning back to Forest. Forest shook his head.
"I used to live with them, but I left for personal reasons," he meowed. "I didn't have a fight with them, or anything. I just needed to leave."
Thistle didn't pry – perhaps he understood more about personal hardship than Forest had thought – and began eating his bird. With a last glance at Brightflash and Thistle eating together, Forest slipped into the reeds.
. . .
Helping the two of them was all well and good, but Forest still had a problem. He couldn't follow the two of them back into Silverstreak's territory, and face her again; he had already made his choice for her, and he couldn't go back on it. Nor did he want to stay in this marsh forever.
Perhaps I can look for Thistle's father, he thought. If they don't find the Clan, they'll be in trouble; for whatever reason, his mother appears to be rather useless. Thistle needs a strong paw to guide him; he seems like a good enough cat, but confused.
Where would his father have gone? He's not in the marsh, or I would have found him…the city, perhaps?
Forest shrugged to himself; it was the only idea he had. Opening his mouth to catch the scent of the Thunderpath, he headed towards it; from there it would be easy to follow it into the city.
The sounds of the monsters rushing by made his ears flatten, but he was not afraid; no monster dared venture into the marsh, whose mud waited to pull one of the great beasts down.
He passed the tunnel that led to the stream, and couldn't help but sniff at it hopefully; Silverstreak's scent lingered, but it was stale. With a quiet sigh, he padded away.
. . .
The city smelled differently than he remembered; it was bigger than it had been when he had left. There were more Twolegs milling about, more monsters tearing up the Thunderpath as they raced along. But more Twolegs meant more trash, and more trash meant more stray cats roaming the streets as well. Hopefully one of them was Thistle's father.
He began investigating, darting into every alley and crevice he could find, searching for Thistle's father. He knew that Thistle's father was most likely blue-gray like his son, but other than that he had little to go on. He encountered several cats, but they had no idea who he was talking about. Finally, as the sun began to set, Forest was forced to admit defeat.
I know absolutely nothing about his father, he fumed. How can I possibly find him, if he's even here at all? This was a ridiculous plan. I've walked all over the city today!
And indeed he had. He could see the Thunderpath that ran to the lake from where he stood; he had crossed nearly the entire city looking for the elusive tom.
Cane's camp is near here, he thought, remembering what the others had told him. He shivered at the thought of being captured by the thin, cunning tom.
He won't be here much longer, though, when Lion comes, Forest thought. Unless he and Amber team up like they do against Carmelo, they won't stand a chance….
Then, something occurred to him, something insane. At first he dismissed it, but the idea would not let him go, wiggling in the back of his mind even as he curled upon a pile of dirty rags to sleep. The idea was still there when he awoke the next morning, and bothered him while he attempted to hunt for his breakfast.
Finally, he acknowledged it, mulling it over as he nibbled at his mouse. Yes, it was insane; there was only the faintest hope that it would actually work. But, Forest had always been a little reckless, one for long shots; it was why he had become a loner, why kidnapping Silverstreak had appeared to be even remotely possible.
And we all know how that turned out, he thought wryly, then shook himself. If this idea works, it could save them. I owe Silverstreak that.
Finishing his mouse, he rose to his paws, and began his quest anew. This time, however, he was not looking for Thistle's mysterious father.
He was looking for Natasha.
He headed the opposite direction, moving into the heart of the city where he knew Natasha lived; after all, both Silverstreak and Northstar had run into her, and later Eaglestrike's group had as well when they adopted little Axel and Demi. But most city dwellers didn't stay in the same place for very long; they tended to move around the city however they pleased, so long as the bosses didn't disapprove. There was a good chance she had already moved somewhere else. Still, her old haunts were his best bet for finding her, or her friend Mitch.
Once again, he was investigating every alley, every crevice. The only cat he saw was a large blue-gray tom rooting through a fallen Twoleg-trash bin.
"Hello," Forest called, and the tom turned, amber eyes glinting. "My name is Forest, and I'm looking for someone. Is there any way that you can help me?"
The tom's eyes narrowed, and he said nothing. Forest plunged onward. "I'm looking for a she-cat named Natasha, and a tom named Mitch," he said. "It's very important. Do you know where they live or hunt? I really need to talk to them, immediately."
The tom seemed to be considering his answer. "Natasha and Mitch live close by," he said finally. "You're looking for the alley over." He jerked his head towards the left, and Forest gave him a smile.
"Thank you," he purred. "What's your name? In case they asked who helped me?"
"Bullet," the tom grunted, turning back towards his trash. Forest gave him a parting nod, and padded out of the alley, racing down the sidewalk as he dodged Twoleg legs. He bolted into the next alley, and was confronted by a scarred, snarling tom.
"Mitch?" Forest asked, keeping the tremble of fear out of his voice.
The tom's green eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who're you?" he asked, giving Forest a sniff. "That scent smells familiar, underneath the stench of the marsh…."
"Are you one of the forest cats?" a slim she-cat asked, slipping out from behind Mitch. "One of Silverstreak's friends?"
Forest gave a relieved nod. "Yes. My name's Forest."
"Ah, we know about you," Natasha purred, then blinked. "Are Axel and Demi okay? Why are you here?"
"They're fine, I guess, but I need your help," he meowed quickly. "Silverstreak and the others are going to be in trouble soon. There's this big cat named Lion, who's leading a bunch of other cats, and he wants to take revenge on Silverstreak for something her father did. We'd hope that we could forge an alliance with the Clan that already lived in the forest, but…I don't think that's going to happen."
Natasha's ears flattened. "Mitch and I can't fight for you. We try to stay out of forest conflicts, they never seem to end well."
"I'm not asking you to," he replied. "When Lion comes, things are going to get ugly in the city, too. Maybe he'll kill Silverstreak first, or he might target the city, we don't know. But either way, the bosses won't be able to hold him off, not for long. There'll be too many cats to fight."
Natasha and Mitch exchanged glances. "What exactly are you saying?" Mitch asked bluntly.
"Basically, Silverstreak needs the help of the bosses, and it's honestly in their best interests to help her," Forest answered. "I know it sounds crazy, but think about it like Amber and Cane joining together to keep Carmelo down. It's basically the same thing."
"But…forest cats?" Natasha wrinkled her nose. "Amber and Cane don't like forest cats much. Rumor has it a bunch of forest cats near the lake ran the two of them off, moons ago."
The Kalan? Forest wondered, but pushed the thought away. "It doesn't matter whether they like them or not, they need our information, and we'll need them in the decisive battle," he said. "It's the only way both groups can survive." He turned to Natasha. "That's why I need your help. You're a she-cat, Amber will listen to you. And Mitch and I can try to convince Cane."
Mitch looked uncomfortable. "Are you certain he's coming? This Lion cat, I mean? Amber and Cane truly hate each other, but if they swallow their pride to form an alliance and Lion doesn't show up…." He trailed off. "It could be ugly for Natasha and myself. We've got a good thing going, here, you know."
Forest blinked slowly; he had been wondering about that. If Amber and Cane hated each other and their opposite genders, how were Natasha and Mitch allowed to stay together?
"Amber and Cane made a little alliance in allowing the two of us to stay together," Natasha explained, seeing his puzzled look. "In exchange for being sort of exempt from their rules, we have to help other cats through the city; Amber and Cane don't like having lost forest cats in their territory. We help them to the lake or to the forest, whichever direction they're headed."
"So if they can do that, they can do this too," Forest said confidently. "At this point, they really don't have much of a choice."
Natasha and Mitch exchanged glances again. "Forest, we need to think about this," Natasha mewed. "We could get into a lot of trouble if this falls through."
Forest hesitated, torn for a moment; he knew his next words would be cruel, but he didn't have much choice. "You found Axel and Demi barely alive, next to their dead mother. You managed to keep them alive, and you chose to give them to the Clan to be taken care of so that they would survive. But if Lion comes and destroys the Clan, do you really think he'll let two kits, that are Clanborn for all he knows, live? He'll kill them like everyone else, and then he'll set his gaze on the city. And Cane and Amber will fall."
Natasha's green eyes were wide with horror, but he wasn't sure if she was worried for the two kits or surprised at how far over the line he had gone. Mitch gave a low growl.
"Get out," he hissed. Forest opened his mouth, but Mitch unsheathed his claws. "Get out!" he snarled, and Forest had no choice but to flee, glancing over his shoulder to see Natasha pressing her nose into Mitch's fur as he gave her a gentle lick.
. . .
Idiot! He cursed himself, lying down on the dirty alley floor. Now neither of them will listen to you. Why did you say that? Why did you hurt them?
Because you're hurt, a little voice at the back of his mind said. You're in pain because of Silverstreak, and you want everyone else to feel the same. You're selfish.
He shrank away from the thought, pressing his nose against his paws as he glanced up at the dark sky. He let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes, forcing the thoughts away and slipping into sleep.
He didn't sleep for long. A paw in his side made his eyes spring open, and he found two green eyes glowing down at him.
"Morning," Natasha mewed; Mitch appeared by her side. Forest rose slowly, fearing that they were still angry, but Natasha was smiling, albeit nervously.
"We thought about what you said," the slim she-cat said quietly. "We really don't have much of a choice anymore…we have to do what we can for Cane and Amber's groups, and the forest Clans too. At least then we won't be blamed, if everything goes wrong, right?" She gave a trembling smile.
"What's your plan, exactly?" Mitch asked gruffly. Forest licked his paw and rubbed it over his ear, buying himself some time to think.
"I don't really have one," he said finally, "we just need to convince them that this is their only option. Natasha will have to talk to Amber, and you and I will talk to Cane. They can't know that the other one is meeting with Silverstreak, or you know they won't come."
Mitch looked skeptical. "And when they show up on the battlefield, side by side…?"
"They'll meet before then," Forest decided. "Let's tell them both to show up in the forest on a certain day…a phase of the moon. The new moon is in a few days. They'll both show up in the same place, and it will be impossible for either of them to leave without looking like cowards."
"Does Silverstreak know their coming?" Natasha asked. Forest's ears flattened.
"I'm not in contact with her right now," he said bluntly, and both cats looked surprised. "But you have to trust me. There's a clearing full of moss – I'm sure they've found it by now, judging where I last scented her – and they can meet there. The Clan cats will have some use for it, and they'll find them when they do a patrol, or something…." He trailed off. "Look, it'll work. It has to, we don't have any other choices."
Mitch and Natasha glanced at each other. "If it doesn't, we can always run," Natasha mewed, but Mitch didn't look so sure.
"I'm a city cat at heart," he growled quietly. "I don't think I'd do so well out of it."
Natasha nudged him with her shoulder. "We'll see." She turned to Forest. "We'll do it. Are we leaving today?"
Forest nodded. "The sooner the better."
Natasha touched Mitch's side with her tail. "Meet up back here at sundown," she mewed, before padding away. Mitch watched her, an odd look in his eyes, before turning back to Forest.
"For your sake, I hope you know what you're doing," he growled quietly, green eyes narrowed. Forest gave him a weak smile.
"Me too."
. . .
They padded towards the old warehouse, prey in their jaws; Mitch had a bit of wiggle room when it came to Cane, but Forest did not, and Mitch had explained that tribute would help him gain favor in Cane's eyes.
The guards stiffened as they neared the warehouse; many of them were scarred, perhaps from the fight that had allowed Eaglestrike and the others to escape. Forest glanced at Mitch nervously, but the ragged tom seemed confident.
"'Ello," he meowed, adopting a gruffer tone than the one he used with Natasha. "We're here for Cane."
The guards looked nervous; perhaps they had been the same ones that had allowed Jag into the warehouse, only to have him attack their leader.
"Who're you?" one of the guards, a large black tom, grunted at Forest.
"He's with me," Mitch said, his voice ringing with confidence. "I think I don't come here often, and when I do it's important. So stop asking questions, and allow me to pass." He quietly unsheathed his claws, a warning. The guards looked uneasy.
"I'll go and ask if Cane wants to see him," one of the guards, a thin ginger tabby, volunteered; he clearly wanted to get away if there was to be a fight. He reminded Forest faintly of Death, but the thought made his heart clench and his stomach roll.
They waited tensely for the ginger tabby's return. Finally, he slipped down from one of the broken windows, landing next to his comrades. "Cane wants to see them," he meowed, his voice thin and reedy. Mitch smirked, padding forward, ignoring the growl of the black tom as they passed him.
The light streaming in from the broken windows helped make the dark warehouse seem a bit lighter, but not by much. It was covered in a layer of dust that stirred when any cat moved, dancing in the sunrays cast by the empty windows. Forest's fur prickled with unease, seeing the eyes glowing in the shadows and within the empty boxes. This claustrophobic, dark setting was not the place for one such as himself, used to open air and freedom.
Cane sat atop a pillar of precariously placed boxes, watching his troops contribute to an ever-growing pile of prey, or skulk around in the shadows waiting for a fight. He looked smug, but his eyes flashed as he saw Mitch and Forest.
"Mitch?" he spat, springing down from his perch. "Why are you here? Where is your she-cat friend? And who is this?" He stared at Forest, his lip curling. "He stinks of the forest."
"Natasha didn't want to come because she knows you don't care for her," Mitch said calmly. "This is my, er, friend, Forest. He's come to us with important news." He turned to Forest expectantly, and he swallowed. He took a step forward, dropping his prey at Cane's paws.
"First, a tribute for you," he meowed hesitantly, remembering the words Mitch had told him to say. "I hope that we can have a long-lasting alliance, though our ways of life differ."
Cane's eyes glittered, but he did not spurn the offering, which Forest assumed was a good thing. His amber eyes flicked down to the prey, then back to Forest; he seemed calm. Forest noticed two larger toms creeping forwards from the shadows; they had learned from their mistake with Jag. If Forest attacked, he would be dead in an instant.
"You smell of the cats I captured, those that later escaped," Cane growled. "And yet your scent is still different."
Forest nodded. "I was with them, but I left, although we remain allies," he meowed. "And it is on their behalf that I come to you. You are the strongest in the city; I know that, and so does your sister." Cane's eyes flashed at the mention of his hated sibling, but he said nothing. "But there is another enemy even stronger than you," Forest continued. "His name is Lion, and he seeks revenge against the forest cats."
A pleased smirk curled Cane's muzzle. "I hardly see why I should be concerned for them."
"It's simple. He will attack the city, either before he crushes Silverstreak, or after. He has many more cats than even you, and he is both bloodthirsty and brutal. He killed nine of the former leader's finest cats all at once, then killed the leader himself to get power. He is not a cat that can easily be defeated. And he can't be defeated by you alone."
Cane's eyes narrowed. "Are you proposing an alliance?"
Forest nodded. "Silverstreak wishes to meet with you, at the new moon."
Cane let out a low growl. "How do I know it is not a trap? You've attempted to trap me before."
Forest gave a small shrug. "You can bring as many of your warriors as you need to feel safe, although I'd heard that you were a great and mighty warrior yourself."
Cane let out a quiet purr at the flattery, but his gaze was still sharp. "I will dwell on it," he snapped, and flicked his tail. Forest blinked, ready to argue, but Mitch was roughly pushing him back towards the exit.
"Thank you for speaking to us," Mitch called as Cane sprang back up to his perch. "We shall return tomorrow!"
"He didn't give us an answer," Forest hissed as they left the Twoleg building, angry at being pushed around like a kit.
"Cane likes to dwell on things for a time before saying yes; the fact that he said he would think about it means that he's already made up his mind. It's as good as a yes, but it gives him power to dangle his decision over your head. One wrong move or dangerous word would have made him change his mind." Mitch's green eyes were steely as he hurried down the street. "Hurry up. It's almost nightfall."
. . .
They regrouped with Natasha at the specified meeting place, and this time both cats decided to sleep with Forest; it was easier than having to track him down later. Forest felt a twinge of regret as he thought of Thistle, but he couldn't go looking for the kit's father now, when such a delicate plan hung in the balance.
"Amber's thinking it over, but I think she'll say yes," Natasha mewed as they settled down for the night. "What about you guys?"
"Same," Mitch grunted, curling up beside her, green eyes as watchful as ever. "We're going back tomorrow to talk to Cane."
Natasha yawned, resting her head on her paws. "So long as they both show up without ripping each other open, I think this could really work."
"I hope so," Mitch murmured, and Forest watched as both Mitch and Natasha quickly fell asleep. Forest remained awake, mind buzzing eagerly, unable to rest. He thought of Thistle and Brightflash – had they made it to the Clan? – as well as Thistle's father. Perhaps he would look for him once Cane and Amber had agreed to meet in the forest.
The forest….Silverstreak's face rose in his mind, and he quickly flinched away from it, ignoring her silver face and bright blue eyes, the eyes that always seemed slightly sad, as if she was afraid that no matter what she was doing, it was wrong….
He opened his eyes, and blinked as he saw the moon had changed positions; somehow he had fallen asleep without realizing it, swallowed up in the memory.
You're pathetic, you know that? He growled to himself. What's done is done. You can't change that. You can't go back.
With a sigh, he rested his head on his paws once more, and drifted off to sleep. This time, his dreams were devoid of the slightest flicker of silver.
. . .
This tribute thing is already getting old, he growled to himself, following Mitch. The warehouse rose before them, with a different set of guards this time. It appeared they had already been instructed about the two toms, however, as they let them pass without a word.
Cane was waiting for them, his fur groomed and his tail curled around his paws; he probably thought he looked strong, even noble, but any such effect was lost on Mitch and Forest. Forest dropped his tribute, and dipped his head respectfully.
"Have you come to a decision?" he asked. Cane paused for a moment, letting the tension building, before unsheathing his claws. Forest tensed, but Mitch touched his flank with his tail, silently warning him. Cane reached out with one paw, pulling the piece of prey towards him and slitting it open with his sharp claws.
"I have," Cane said idly, licking the blood from his claws. "We will meet with your leader." He rose his chin proudly. "We will side with her against this Lion cat, if such a thing comes to pass."
Relief washed over Forest, but he quickly reminded himself that the battle was not yet won; they were depending on Amber as well. "Thank you," he meowed. "They will be grateful for your help. Silverstreak wishes to meet the night of the new moon, in a clearing in her territory."
Cane's eyes narrowed at the prospect of going into possible enemy territory, but he nodded. "How do we find this clearing?" he asked, stressing "we" as if showing off his numbers.
"When you leave the city, you will find a stream under the Thunderpath. Follow it into the forest, and if your troops span out a bit they will come upon a large clearing of moss. There you wait."
If you exist, StarClan, please get Silverstreak to that clearing somehow, he prayed. It doesn't matter how, just let it happen, and let Amber and Cane join us in our battle!
No, their battle, he reminded himself. It's not mine anymore. I'm not a Clan cat. I never was, really.
Cane's tail flicked. "We'll have to go through my sister's territory to do it…but I relish the challenge of a fight with her." His eyes gleamed brightly. "We will be there, you have my word. He flicked his tail, dismissing them; Forest let out a growl, but Mitch was once again herding him away.
They were barely out of the warehouse before Natasha sprang out at them.
"Amber's going to help!" she purred brightly as they padded down the street. "She's going to meet at the moss clearing on the new moon, just like you said."
Forest let out a loud purr. "Thank you, Natasha, you did very well." He turned to Mitch. "And thank you as well. You were both very helpful, and brave. I hope everything works out for both of you."
Mitch frowned at him, and the three of them paused. "That sounds awfully like a goodbye," Mitch said slowly. Forest's ears lowered slightly.
"Yes," he admitted. "My business here is complete, if Amber and Cane align with Silverstreak as I hope. There's really nothing else here for me to do…and I'd like to move on. For personal reasons."
"Are you coming back? Ever?" Natasha asked. "What about the Clan? Don't you want to know how things turn out?"
"If Silverstreak wins, the Clan stays a Clan," he replied. "If she loses, then I'm sure Lion will spread his influence, and I'll know when that happens. He's probably crazy enough to try and take over everything, so I'll run into him again." He shrugged. "There's no reason for me to stay."
Natasha's eyes gleamed with pity as she watched him. "I'm sorry you have to go," she mewed, then stepped forward and licked his muzzle. "It was nice being with you, for the few days we were." Behind her, Mitch's fur bristled, although she didn't notice.
"Bye," Mitch meowed gruffly. Forest smiled at them both, almost a real, crooked smile.
"Thank you again, for all your help—" He stopped talking, frowning as he scented the breeze. For a moment, he thought he caught the scent of ash, and immediately thought of the cat that had supposedly been guiding Reedrush and Silverstreak. Then, he blinked, realizing that the scent was not that of ash: it was smoke.
Alarm flitted over Natasha and Mitch's faces, and they broke into a run, dashing towards the smell. Forest hesitated, then followed.
The smell grew stronger, and there was a loud wailing sound coming from ahead of them; Forest recognized it as the sound of Twoleg fire-monsters. When he'd been a kit, the house next to Mother's had caught fire, sending nearly a dozen fire-monsters rushing to the scene and terrifying every cat.
His eyes widened in horror as they found the source of the smoke. One of the Twoleg buildings had caught on fire, flames streaming from the windows; as they watched, the building made a cracking sound, and wood from inside clattered downward. Fire-monsters crowded around it, but the blaze was too fierce to stop. Forest watched in horror as the flames spread to the next building, which was packed closely beside it. There were too few fire-monsters and fire-Twolegs to stop the spread of the blaze, even as water flew from the fire-monsters tails. And then, with terror and horror rising within him, Forest saw that the fire was continuing to spread, to the east. It was nearly to the forest
The dry, dry forest that had not had a drop of water in moons and where Silverstreak's Clan slept, oblivious to the coming danger.
AN: Humm. Usually by now with the end in sight, I know my next project, but I'm still on the fence with this one…I guess I'll have you guys vote eventually. Derp. .
Also, I might post some chappies of my Pokémon fic. It's just a side project, something that helps me unwind while I'm working on this; it's much more light-heartened than scary Shattered stuff; it's closer to TR in general feelings of lightness. You wanna see it, or no?
Brightflash isn't a Clan cat, but she might be something similar~
Sorry about the slowness of this chappy, my familia had a ton of computer-stuff to do this week, and my weekend was kinda rough. But still, it's nice to hear about Cain and Abel—er, I mean, Cane and Amber again, right?