Disclaimer: Warriors isn't mine.
Chapter 48
Marsh snarled, teeth bared as stalked around Buzzard. "What is this? Buzzard, are you really this desperate?" he circled around Buzzard's back, tail lashing behind him; "you said you needed our help, kitnapping was never mentioned at any point."
Buzzard showed his fangs as Marsh moved to his side, still talking, "I have never seen a more immoral act in my life. Though if I stay awhile I feel I might see one worse." He halted in front of Buzzard, despite the height difference he could see Buzzard shrinking back, "We are giving those kits back."
Buzzard snarled, stepping forward as though to recover from the slip, "We will give the kits back." Marsh waited, continuing to glare at the other leader.
"After we get something from CreekClan." Buzzard looked proud, Marsh felt disgusted, who felt proud that they could take a group of kits? Other than Buzzard obviously.
"This will halt them for awhile, as will the death of their leader." He raised his head higher; Marsh was idly surprised he could. He shook his head; Buzzard had no morals, no respect what so ever. These cats had found something in Pantherstar worth following, in Marsh's mind the cat deserved some respect, and he had been a better fighter than Buzzard in any case. According to Chill, Buzzard had only got the killing blow after injuring a different fighter to distract him. And even then he'd almost missed, yet he boasted about it, head held high with pride.
Marsh stepped back, flattening his ears, the sting in his shoulder he was starting to feel, and he wanted to get away from Buzzard.
"CreekClan will win!" a small voice chimed, Marsh turned his head in surprise. One of the kits stood on his hind legs, a bright silver tabby.
Buzzard laughed an eerie grin on his muzzle. "Well, look who it is. One of Storm's kits." He stalked over, tail flicking behind him in a laidback fashion, the forced picture of ease. A golden-brown kit growled as he approached, his small teeth bared.
Buzzard easily bowled the outspoken kit over. The silver tabby fell to the ground on his side, moving to rise when Buzzard pinned the tom down, his brown paw spread from the kit's shoulder almost to his flank. Marsh's hackles rose, if that snake-heart even planned to hurt that kit…
"You will have more respect, kit." Buzzard growled, "I am leader of The Pride."
The kit struggled, as if he could throw Buzzard off, a challenge burning in his blue eyes. Enough was enough, kitnapping was more than he could handle, this was too far. Marsh stepped forward, and watched his cats react. Duck was on his paws in a heartbeat, Cypress curled his lips, Chill squared his shoulders, Jumper unsheathed her claws, Thunder lashed her tail, he couldn't see the others but knew they were all ready for his command, ignoring their exhaustion to protect these kits. He didn't take his eyes off Buzzard's paw, would he be able to knock him over…
Buzzard pressed down, obviously expecting the kit's struggles. What Buzzard hadn't expected though, was to be bitten.
"Ow!" he whirled; the golden-brown kit had his fangs buried in Buzzard's tail, paws planted on the ground, a look that dared Buzzard to pull loose.
"Get off him!" the kit snarled. That seemed to inspire the rest, even the small calico, as they all attacked. Buzzard yanked his tail out of the kit's mouth, before knocking the rest of the kits away with a swipe of his paw. A few dodged, a gold kit nipped him on the front leg. The silver tabby got to his paws in a hurry and backed up with a small noise. The rest of the kits scrambled over to where he was, crowding around him to form a ball of fur, that growled at the Pride leader.
Marsh snorted, and Buzzard diverted his attention to him.
"No wonder you needed our help, if even the kits will fight you." Marsh chuckled, studying the kits with new eyes. So they weren't trained, but they were loyal. He glanced back at Buzzard, making sure to keep the brown tom's attention.
Buzzard wasn't as amused as Marsh, turning his head. "Frost, put them in Rook's old den, and stay to guard them. We'll rotate."
Marsh flicked his tail; he'd talk to Buzzard about this later, now though he needed to check his cats. The kits were no longer in danger, he could move to his next priority.
He padded towards Ivy; she was covered in scratches on her chest.
His mate brushed muzzles with him, he gently pressed against her, "are you alright?"
Ivy nodded, "there was a gray and white she-cat, she took offense to the fact I wounded her friend."
Marsh made a noise, tilting his head, "she protected a fellow member."
Ivy nodded, her eyes calm. "Didn't you notice it Marsh? These cats defend each other."
"I noticed. Cypress and I were up against a pair of toms that looked alike." He shook his head, "those two were pretty fierce."
"They work together." Marsh turned his head, Duck had approached his parents. "From what I could find out the Clan functions similar to us, a little closer, they all live together, broken apart by ranks rather than families."
Marsh flicked his ears, taking in Duck's wounds, "what happened to you?"
"I met an orange Clan cat that didn't like me." Duck replied, his muzzle curling upward slightly. "I can't blame him for that."
Marsh let out a rough breath, "is everyone alright?"
"Other than a few deep scratches yes." Cypress appeared, Marsh's dark brown brother was favoring one leg, which had a deep cut down it.
"Good." Marsh dipped his head to his brother. "Once we get some rest, I'll need to talk to you."
Cypress glanced across camp, "I imagine you do."
Marsh followed his gaze, to see the large white tom, Frost, sitting in front of a den. "Yes. I'm reconsidering this agreement."
