Summary: The strangest looking kittypet the clans had ever seen joins Thunderclan.

I've been working long hours all week which kind of sapped my motivation for this chapter. It's way duller than I intended, but what are you gonna do? It also means I haven't had any time to play Pokemon.

I guess I had to find out that Glimmet is a rare spawn the hard way.

Trying my hand at the Firestar-is-a-savannah cat AU

Reviews are appreciated!

Rusty always knew he was different. His dreams beckoned him into the forest, tempting him with a wild, exciting life that he knew could satisfy him more than his life with his housefolk ever could. His idea of living would baffle any of the house cats living around his neighborhood. Why venture out into the cold, unforgiving wild when you could be warm and fed and loved?

He knew that wasn't why he was so different. His dreams didn't make him different from other cats, it was him.

He noticed that he was bigger than the other kits living around the area. He was the size of some of the fully-grown cats, but he was only six moons old. Other kits weren't nearly as big as him. His pelt was a vivid ginger with distinctive black spots. His tail was stubbier than most, and his legs were becoming lankier by the day.

His strange appearance and growth meant that cats around his age were too spooked to play with him, and the older cats had varying reactions, though they weren't good ones. Some of them were weirded out by him, some of them thought he was joking around when he told them his real age, and some of them avoided him altogether based on appearances alone.

His housefolk treated him strangely. They took care of him, sure, but more often than not, they felt like they were more proud to have him, rather than being proud of him. They fed him every day, either with dry pellets or raw chicken. Mostly they left him to his own devices. He felt as though they were preparing him for something big.

It wasn't the life he dreamed of having. He was lonely first and foremost. His muscles ached to be used in a way that was unfamiliar to him, yet natural. He couldn't spend his pent-up energy in such a small, enclosed space like the nest he currently called home.

After yet another dream of hunting mice in a forest, he pushed his way out through the cat flap, hoping that the smell of the garden would bring back the feelings from his dream. Rusty settled down on top of one of the posts in the fence that marked the limits of his garden. It was a favorite spot of his, as he could see right into the neighboring gardens as well as into the dense green forest on the other side of the garden fence.

He heard his owners giving him one last call from the back door. They sounded exasperated, like they were tired of Rusty constantly going into the garden. He supposed they feared he would try to escape.

'They shouldn't have put the cat flap there if they didn't want me to go out,' he thought bitterly.

Every time they called for him, he reluctantly turned around and went back inside the nest, much to his owner's relief. It was probably because of his obedience that they didn't remove the only way out of the stuffy nest. But this time Rusty ignored his owners' voices and turned his gaze back to the forest.

Suddenly the fur on his spine prickled. Was something moving out there? Was something watching him? Rusty stared ahead, but it was impossible to see or smell anything in the dark, tree-scented air. He lifted his chin boldly, stood up, and stretched, one paw gripping each corner of the fencepost as he straightened his legs and arched his back. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of the woods once more. It seemed to promise him something, tempting him onward into the whispering shadows. Tensing his muscles, he crouched for a moment. Then he leaped lightly down into the rough grass on the other side of the garden fence. As he landed, the bell on his collar rang out through the still night air. He curled his lips instinctively with distaste.

If he had to tear his claws out to remove his collar, he would have done the act already. But alas, he needed them for what he was about to do.

'I want to hunt.'

Suddenly the movement of a tiny creature caught his eye. He watched it scuttle under some brambles.

Instinct made him drop into a low crouch. With one slow paw after another he drew his body forward through the undergrowth. Ears pricked, nostrils flared, eyes unblinking, he moved toward the animal. He could see it clearly now, sitting up among the barbed branches, nibbling on a large seed held between its paws. It was a mouse.

Rusty rocked his haunches from side to side, preparing to leap. He held his breath in case his bell rang again. Excitement coursed through him, making his heart pound. This was even better than his dreams! Then a sudden noise of cracking twigs and crunching leaves made him jump. His bell jangled treacherously, and the mouse darted away into the thickest tangle of the bramble bush.

Rusty stood very still and looked around. He could see the white tip of a red bushy tail trailing through a clump of tall ferns up ahead. He smelled a strong, strange scent, definitely a meat-eater, but neither cat nor dog.

He opted to ignore it, instead glaring down at the bell dangling from his collar. He wished he could chew the thing off, but it was attached by the same hard stuff that made up the bell, and it made his teeth hurt. He had tried before. Just getting his head to turn the right angle was hard enough, let alone trying to cut the bell off.

He gave up on his battle with his collar, and prowled forward, intent on finding another mouse. Then his large ears detected another noise. It came from behind, but sounded muted and distant. He swiveled his ears backward to hear it better. 'Pawsteps?' he wondered.

It was only when the faint rustling behind him became a loud and fast-approaching leaf-crackle that Rusty realized he might be in danger.

The creature hit him like an explosion and Rusty staggered backwards, caught off-guard by the sudden hit. Twisting and yowling, he tried to throw off the attacker that had fastened itself to his back. It was gripping him with incredibly sharp claws. Rusty could feel spiked teeth pricking at his neck. He writhed and squirmed from whisker to tail, but he couldn't free himself. For a second he felt helpless; then he froze. Thinking fast, he flipped over onto his back. He knew instinctively how dangerous it was to expose his soft belly, but it was his only chance.

He was lucky—the ploy seemed to work. He heard a "hhuuffff" beneath him as the breath was knocked out of his attacker. Thrashing fiercely, Rusty managed to wriggle free.

Then he headbutted his attacker in the chest with as much force as he could muster. The gray cat let out a harsh wheeze, and Rusty backed away hesitantly. He slowly inched forward and sniffed the tom.

The tom's eyes suddenly flicked over to him, realizing that there was a bigger cat hanging over him threateningly.

"You- you better stay away if you know what's good for you, kittypet!"

Rusty remained on tiptoe for a second, wondering whether to attack.

"Graypaw!"

He turned to see a large gray she-cat leaping majestically out from the undergrowth. She was magnificent. White hairs streaked her muzzle, and an ugly scar parted the fur across her shoulders, but her smooth gray coat shone like silver in the moonlight.

"Bluestar!" Beside Rusty, Graypaw flipped over onto his paws and narrowed his eyes. He crouched low when a second cat- a handsome, golden tabby- followed the gray cat into the clearing.

"Are you alright, Graypaw?" the tom fretted, nosing over his pelt. When he was satisfied with his assessment, realizing that Graypaw wasn't too injured, he growled angrily. "You shouldn't be so near Twolegplace, Graypaw!"

"I know, Lionheart, I'm sorry." Graypaw looked down at his paws. "I didn't expect him to be so big!"

Lionheart sighed. "That is something we will have to rectify through training. You only just started your apprenticeship after all."

"Who is this?" asked the she-cat.

Rusty flinched as she turned her gaze on him. Her piercing blue eyes made him feel vulnerable, even though they were almost the same size.

"He's no threat," mewed Graypaw quickly. "He's not another clan warrior, just a Twoleg pet from beyond our territories."

'Just a Twoleg pet!' The words inflamed Rusty, but he held his tongue. The warning look in Bluestar's stare told him that she had observed the anger in his eyes, and he looked away. The comment burned at him more than it should have. He wasn't some pet that his owners liked to parade around, just because of his pronounced spots or his size or his overall strange appearance!

'I just want to fit in…'

"This is Bluestar; she's leader of my clan!" Graypaw hissed to Rusty under his breath. "And Lionheart. He's my mentor, which means he's training me to be a warrior."

"Thank you for the introduction, Graypaw," meowed Lionheart coolly.

Bluestar was still staring at Rusty. "You fight well for a Twoleg pet," she meowed.

Rusty and Graypaw exchanged confused glances. How could she know?

"We have been watching you both," Bluestar went on, as if she had read their thoughts. "We wondered how you would deal with an intruder, Graypaw. You attacked him bravely."

Graypaw looked pleased at Bluestar's praise.

"Sit up now, both of you!" Bluestar looked at Rusty. "You too, kittypet." He sat up immediately and held Bluestar's gaze evenly as she addressed him.

"You reacted well to the attack, kittypet. You used your size accordingly and didn't give Graypaw a chance to recover. I've never seen a kittypet fight as well as you."

Rusty managed to nod his thanks, taken aback by such unexpected praise. Her next words surprised him even more. "I have been wondering how you would perform out here, beyond the Twolegplace. We patrol this border frequently, so I have often seen you sitting on your boundary, staring out into the forest. And now, at last, you have dared to place your paws here." Bluestar stared at Rusty thoughtfully. "You do seem to have a natural hunting ability. Sharp eyes. You would have caught that mouse if you had not hesitated so long."

'I'm being praised for my abilities, and not because of my appearance?'

"Curious," she murmured. "If I may ask, how old are you?"

His ears flattened onto his skull. He never liked answering that particular question. "Six moons," he said lowly.

They stared at him in surprise.

"I guess this is the part where you tell me I'm lying, or that I'm some kind of freak of nature right?" he asked crossly.

"No way you're six moons! I'm six moons! I'm practically bigger than Sandpaw and Dustpaw and they're way older than me! You're almost Tigerclaw and Lionheart's size!" Graypaw exclaimed.

Lionheart spoke now. His deep meow was respectful but insistent. "Bluestar, this is a kittypet. He should not be hunting in Thunderclan territory. Send him home to his Twolegs!"

Rusty prickled at Lionheart's dismissive words. "Send me home?" he mewed impatiently. Bluestar's words had made him glow with pride. She had noticed him; she had been impressed by him. He hadn't even caught anything yet to satisfy his primal urge that unsettled him for what seemed like ages!

Something told him to keep that thought to himself. They weren't happy with him being on their territory, let alone hunting in it.

"Your clan sounds very interesting," he meowed softly.

Bluestar's eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Perhaps you would like to see Thunderclan for yourself," she said.

'What?'

"How would you like to join Thunderclan?"

Rusty was so surprised, he couldn't speak.

"Bluestar-" Lionheart uttered, shocked.

Bluestar went on: "If you did, you would train with Graypaw to become a clan warrior."

"But kittypets can't be warriors!" Graypaw blurted out. "They don't have warrior blood!"

A sad look clouded Bluestar's eyes. "Warrior blood," she echoed with a sigh. "Too much of that has been spilled lately."

Bluestar fell silent and Lionheart sighed, "Bluestar is only offering you training, young kit. There is no guarantee you would become a full warrior. It might prove too difficult for you. After all, you are used to a comfortable life."

Rusty was stung by Lionheart's words. He swung his head around to face the golden tabby. "Why offer me the chance, then?"

But it was Bluestar who answered. "You are right to question our motives, young one. The fact is, Thunderclan needs more warriors."

"Understand that Bluestar does not make this offer lightly," warned Lionheart. "If you wish to train with us, we will have to take you into our clan. You must either live with us and respect our ways, or return to your Twolegplace and never come back. You cannot live with a paw in each world."

A cool breeze stirred the undergrowth, ruffling Rusty's fur. He shivered, not with the cold, but with excitement at the incredible possibilities opening up in front of him. This is what he had been waiting for!

"Are you wondering if it's worth giving up your comfortable kittypet life?" asked Bluestar gently. "But do you realize the price you will pay for your warmth and food?"

"Yes!"

The three cats flinched at his exuberance.

"Can I join now?"

Bluestar looked at him for a few heartbeats. "This is a big decision. Do you not want time to think this through? You would be giving up your comfortable life in exchange for joining us," she warned.

He shook his head. "They're only interested in my appearance. I don't really have anyone waiting for me back there."

"Don't you have friends?" Graypaw asked him puzzled.

His whiskers twitched downward. "Who'd be friends with the weird, big kit who seems to grow everyday?"

This was his chance to be surrounded by cats that might end up caring for him; not judging him by his size or pelt. He would have the opportunity to finally feel the strength in his legs, to catch prey with his own two paws.

"If your mind is made up then…" Bluestar meowed, gazing upon his face full of desperation and hope. It was clear to see what he wanted. "Try and keep up," she said, beginning to turn around.

"Wait!" He lurched forward, bell jingling, reminding him of something important. "Before we go, can you help me get this collar off? I can't get the right angle and it's starting to itch really badly…"

Lionheart and Bluestar glanced at each other amused, before Bluestar nodded her head to her warrior. Lionheart strode forward and grasped the collar in his teeth, gnawing and tugging at it.

"I can help!" Graypaw crowed excitedly, taking the other side of the collar, and pulling hard.

"Careful, you might strangle him to death," Bluestar commented.

Rusty's neck felt strained, and he was beginning to find it hard to breath until-

Snap!

Relief flooded him as Lionheart dropped the collar to the ground. He stretched his neck, happy to be free of such a restraint. Without a word, he dug a small hole in the earth and shoved the remains of the collar inside it, before quickly covering it back up with dirt.

"I'm ready to go now!"

Fires is a F1 savannah cat here! Which means that his mom is a serval. Who is the father? Jake obviously. He has a thing for height you know; long tails, long legs, that kind of thing.

Debated just having Fires be a flat out serval but then Jake wouldn't be his father.

Thunderclan is in for a shock when this almost fully grown kit ends up growing some more and starts towering over everyone.

Pretty generic AU this time.

Tell me how I did.