AN: Hello, and welcome to Louder Than Words! This is the culmination of a bunch of asks from a Warrior Cats Tumblr blog (official-dark-forest) who posted an AU where the fight between Longtail and Rusty turned... lethal. Moreso than canon. I'm a bit squeamish so I did myself a favor and toned it down. I also added my own spin on things. But go check out the original! It's amazing and the blogger deserves some love!
For my current readers, I am absolutely still working on Just a Dream. ShadowClan's pov is mauling me like the dogs from A Dangerous Path but I shall prevail! Here, have some of this instead.
One
Rusty knew the strange cats were watching him. At first, he thought they were just another group of ghosts looking for help. They never talked, from what he could see. But their paws didn't go through the ground and they never got any closer than the treeline. Besides, some of the alley cats he was helping offered to yowl at them and came back disappointed that it didn't work. So they weren't ghosts. But they might still need his help. Even if they weren't ghosts themselves, they might be troubled by one. In a forest that big, there were bound to be all kinds of dead animals.
For some reason, only cats came to him. He's seen plenty of dead things, roadkill on the street, pets in a room at the back of the pound, birds drinking from a pond with bad water, all kinds. But dogs, squirrels, birds, and the like never came to him, even if he knew they were dead. They likely had their own ghost-seer. He tried not to question it.
His powers took him all over the Houses in an attempt to help some poor hapless tom or molly that had bitten off more than they could chew. He sometimes gazed upon the outskirts, but his mother had always insisted that he wasn't to go too far into the city. He was wanted there, but they were troublesome. So as long as those cats didn't know where he lived, he was safe. That stood even after he left for his own Housefolk home. He's been there for almost half his life, coming and going as he pleased. Or rather, as the ghosts needed him. These Housefolk had been good to him, even if he was more of an outside cat with a taste for, well, he wouldn't call the food he got in return for helping a ghost the finer things in life, but they weren't the dry food left in his bowl.
He'd had too much time to think about this stuff. Were these cats ever going to approach him? It was his seventh night out here and he was tempted to give up on them. Surely they'd seen the many cats, living and dead, come looking for him. They had to know that he could help, however big or annoying the ghost was. So why were these cats just staring at him from the trees?!
"Are you going to see those wildcats?"
Smudge has been his friend since he moved to this house. Three and then some moons had been shared with this cat, and they'd been fast friends at that. So he would miss the plump black-and-white furball. Especially since he got a weird feeling from these cats watching him.
"Wildcats, you say? What do you know about them?" Rusty prompted. He figured Smudge would have told him if he knew anything important, but maybe not.
"Henry said he's gone into the woods once."
"Not in this life." Rusty deadpanned. Smudge flinched at the dark joke. Henry was an old tom on his last legs. Rusty would be sorry to see him go, but Smudge knew better than to take anything the tom said seriously.
"He said there are all kinds of dangerous animals out there. Huge wildcats who eat live rabbits for breakfast-."
"I've eaten a mouse if that counts. The wet food you get tastes almost as good."
"Well, they might be the cats looking for you. And knowing you, you'll find them first."
"Sure will. I've been getting stared at for the past seven nights and it's about time I see why."
"Yeah, I figured you would say that. Good luck, Rusty. Come find me if you need anything. I'll sound the alarm."
"Thanks, Smudge."
Rusty jumped down towards the fence and shuffled into the woods. This newest collar the Housefolk gave him was sky-blue and had a bell on it. He hoped it wouldn't scare whoever was watching him.
The white tip of a bushy red tail trailed through a clump of ferns. He was tempted to call out, thinking it was one of the cats who had been watching him, but then its scent drifted to his nose. A meat-eater that was nothing he recognized.
A faint rustling from behind had him turn around to find nothing but the whistle of leaves strewn on the ground. Perhaps there were ghosts in these woods. He wondered if the wildcats could see them like he could. It was only when the faint rustling behind him turned into a loud and close leaf-crackle that Rusty recalled why he was here.
Right, living cats. Might need a ghost-seer.
The thing about inserting yourself into other cats' affairs is that they might not know why you're there. Or even want you there.
The cat hit him like an explosion, definitely living. Dead cats could have the same impact but it took a lot of practice or a lot of rage and there was a different feeling to it. Something less solid that let Rusty know who he was dealing with. Rusty was thrown sideways into a clump of nettles. He tried to throw off his attacker but the cat had fastened themself to his back with incredibly sharp claws. Rusty could feel spiked teeth pricking at his neck and he snorted internally. A bigger cat would have squished him to the ground and torn his throat out for just being there. This was another kitten.
Slightly stunned by the knowledge, Rusty did something extremely stupid.
Any cat worth their pelt would scold him for this move. Including Nutmeg, who didn't even know how to fight! Rusty flipped himself onto his back and threw his attacker off with all four paws gripping tight. He didn't throw the cat very far, but it was enough to get to his paws and pounce on his opponent.
"Relax!" Rusty ordered. "Tell your elders I just want to talk."
"You just attacked me and you want me to relax?!" The tom, grey with black stripes, as far as Rusty could tell, was panting and had his claws unsheathed. "Besides, who are you to tell me what to do?!"
"The cat they're looking for, fluffbutt, go get an older cat!"
"Fluffbutt?! Why you-!"
"At ease, Greypaw." A molly insisted calmly, having appeared before them, well-hidden by the gloom of the forest. "This cat is right to say that we've been looking for him. Though I'm not sure how he would know that."
The molly was huge, bigger than any of the scrawny cats that usually asked him for help. Dead or alive. And he'd seen some big ones, or so he thought. His head barely came up past her knee, and since his attacker, Grey, was closer to his size it was safe to assume that she could crush them both underpaw and not lose a wink of sleep.
"Bluestar!" Grey stuttered. Rusty rolled his eyes.
"If you stammer whenever you meet a bigger cat, you won't get far in life." Rusty drawled, hoping his fear-scent wasn't as prominent as some cats liked to say it was.
"Bold words for a kittypet."
"I know that word, Molly." Rusty scowled. "According to the cats I know, it's not a nice one."
"And what about these cats you know?" Bluestar queried. "You seem to know plenty of them."
"They come to me, just like you have." Rusty confirmed. "Or so I assume. Your kitten here doesn't know what you want me for."
"Apparently neither do we." A deeper voice, definitely a tom's, boomed lowly like thunder that accompanied rolling clouds across the sky. "Bluestar, you said this cat was of interest to you, but he sounds like he wants something from us."
Rusty had to crane his neck back to see this newcomer. He towered over Bluestar, potentially twice her height, and his golden fur waved with the wind.
"I'll admit that I'm a little confused myself. What do you offer, kittypet?"
"What do I offer-? Stars above! The living are so annoying. Do you have ghosts in your culture? Cats who have died but remain among the living for reasons unknown?"
"What kind of mouse-brained furball are you?!" Greypaw spat. "Everyone knows cats go to StarClan when they die!"
"Quiet, Greypaw!"
"Yeah, Grey, shut up." Rusty snapped. "I'm not the one who's been stalking the edge of the forest for seven days. What do you want, if you don't have an issue with ghosts?"
"We have cats that train to interact with our dead, called medicine cats. There's usually only one or two per Clan because the interactions take a lot out of them. If it's anything like what you claim to be able to do, our medicine cat would have the answers you seek."
"Did this medicine cat send you to find me?"
"I… suppose. She doesn't know you by name, but she knows your pelt. Whatever problems we're having, she said Fire Alone Can Save Our Clan." Bluestar sounded like she was quoting someone else with the last few words and Rusty groaned.
"Mediums never know what they're looking for until it smacks them in the face, usually painfully. I'd like to speak to your medicine cat if it's not too much trouble, but I can't come with you tonight. This sounds like a long trip, so I'll need some time to wrap up my affairs."
"Indeed, you would not be allowed to interact with outsiders should you join us. A warrior cannot live with a paw in each world."
"That depends." Rusty snorted. "I never said anything about joining you, and I don't know the first thing about being a warrior. You saw my moves against Grey, any cat worth their pelt knows not to show their stomach."
"True," The golden tabby offered wisely. "but for a young cat like you, going for my stomach would be an advantage. Knowing how to shield yourself while attacking another is one of the first things you'll be taught, even if you're only here to help Spottedleaf."
"Fair enough. I accept your plea. Can we meet at noon tomorrow?"
"Noon?" Grey asked. "What's that?"
"A time of day, fluffbutt. When the sun is highest in the sky. How young are you?"
"We call that sun-high."
"Of course you do." Rusty snorted. "Fine, sun-high. That should give me long enough to tell my friends that I'll be away for a while."
"Right, because a cat like you has so many friends."
"I mean sure, fluffbutt, but ghosts are very impatient. At the very least, I have to call a meeting but they need to know that I might not come back from this."
"You sound rather certain, for a kitten." Bluestar noted.
"Well, Molly, your spirits have urged you to find a ginger cat who can speak to ghosts. Whatever this is, it's not going away anytime soon. Noon-. I mean, sun-high tomorrow, yes?"
"Yes. Though Lionheart might bring a different cat. I have a Clan to lead." Bluestar drawled.
"Ah, so there was a reason Grey, here, was scared of you. Makes sense, I guess. I don't think I've ever been asked to do this by a leader before. I hope these ghosts aren't harming your entire group."
"Clan." The golden tabby corrected. "There are four of them, and one we're from is known as ThunderClan."
"Clan, right. And ThunderClan will be the cats I'm helping. At sun-high. Good luck until then, Clan cats."
The ghosts surrounded him as soon as he leapt onto his fence.
"Where have you been?" Peregrine was a brown calico with black patches. She had green eyes before her untimely demise but like all ghosts, her eyes only held hints of that color. They were now faded silver.
"Yeah, kid, you had us all worried." Mac was a ginger cat, a bit darker than Rusty, and he'd had amber eyes before he died.
"I've been called away."
"What?!" They and several more cats in various states of transparency yelped.
"The older spirits know what to do. I'm going to help a group of cats with what looks like a long-term problem. I might not be back anytime soon. You might have to find someone else to help you. Or find me in the woods."
The ghosts took a few heartbeats to process this among themselves. A black tom with blue eyes called Radar stepped forward.
"I'll corral the youngins, Rusty. We, uh, we might be able to help each other, with all the info you've given us. Good luck with this new mission, but why does it sound like we'll never see you again?"
"You might not. Along with being a long-term mission, they sound like they have their own thing going on. Nutmeg said that Jake got a bit too wrapped up with a group like that and that's why she never saw him again."
"What are the chances your sire could help if we found him?" Peregrine wondered.
"If you ever do, let me know. I have a bunch of questions for him." Rusty deadpanned. "Anyway, tell all the others, will you? Nutmeg should find me tomorrow before noon. Don't scare her off." He ordered.
"I'll show them how it goes around here, kit." Mac snorted. "Go to sleep. Tomorrow you've got a new mission and you know those always take a lot out of you."
Rusty grumbled his thanks and loped towards the catflap on numb paws. It was easy to find his nest and easier still to fall asleep.