Author's Note: Everyone, thank you for your reviews and private messages, especially to those of you that suggested names over Email! (Special thanks to Moonflower0Aquastar for submitting four!). I am not going to choose a name just yet, since I have received many wonderful ones, but I am still awaiting for the perfect one. So go ahead and suggest a name if you think you have a good one! Now, without any more delays...I present you with the ninth chapter ;)
Chapter Nine: Petals of The Palest Rose
Wind whipped through the moors, flattening the grass stalks and wailing through the air, as if it were a living, breathing thing. It screamed like a tortured being and lashed through the moors, grasping the cats that lived there in its icy fingers. The night was darker than the underside of a raven's wing, and already freezing cold.
A solitary figure plodded through the moors, her fur rippling through the wind, her head drooping towards the ground. Weary and exhausted, she barely managed to keep her paws moving from under her. These moors were unlike anything she had ever seen, and they were so different from her own home.
She knew her own territory from every crevice to every gully—every slope and every path. But here, everything was foreign and new, and without a guide, she was hopelessly lost.
Exhausted, she knew she had to find shelter, least she be blown away by the wind. She saw something loom ahead of her, casting a dark shadow over her slim shape, but when she looked up, she did not recognize it.
It was almost like a massive red box, and the edges of the box met sharply at the top, forming a kind of triangular shape. It looked like some kind of shelter, and heat came off of it in comforting waves. Warmth.
She let out an exhausted sigh and stumbled forwards the last few steps, just barely making it through the doorway, and she lurched forwards, her fatigue catching up to her, and she slept.
xxx
Ravenwing stumbled back to Barley's Farm, weary and bedraggled. Every step was torture for his aching muscles, and his head lolled downwards. But his eyes still burned with a passion. He had fought again!
He never thought that he would fight a warriors' battle again in his life, since he was presumed dead by ThunderClan. His only major battle was with ShadowClan and the Sunningrocks battle; and those were merely vague memories. His skills had stayed with him; a bitter smile crept up on his mouth. At least Tigerclaw had taught him something.
So distracted was he that he plowed into a figure that was curled up in the middle of the doorway. Surprised, he tripped over Barley with a surprised squeak.
"Barley!" Ravenwing exclaimed, getting to his paws and shaking his head as if to clear it. "What were you doing there? I could have—"
With a jolt, Ravenwing realized two things. Firstly, the cat that he had tripped over was not Barley. Secondly, she was still asleep.
xxx
"But she doesn't look like any Clan cat I've ever seen!"
Ravenwing and Barley both studied the strange she-cat, who was still fast asleep.
"Are you sure she's not a WindClan cat?" Barley insisted.
"Yes, I'm positive!" Ravenwing argued, "she looks about as old as I am. WindClan would have brought her to several Gatherings—I know all WindClan cats, Barley. Besides, look at her fur! Have you ever seen fur like that?"
"No," the black-and-white loner sighed, "I admit that I have never seen the fur that she has." The two toms both gazed down at the she-cat, apparently too astonished for words.
Clan cats normally were thin-pelted, with coats the colors of the forest so that they could blend in when stalking prey. Mottled brown, shadowy black, russet red and dappled tortoiseshells were common amongst the Clan, whereas vivid colors that stood out from the forest floor were not. But this she-cat...
Her fur was the color of pink rose petals. A rose petal—that was the first thing Ravenwing thought when he took a good look at her fur. It was the pale pink of a light-colored rose, and she had a white chest, paws, and white tipped ears.
"Remarkable," Barley muttered under his breath, "I had no idea her fur would be such an odd color when I cleaned all that mud off of her."
"Mud?" Ravenwing repeated, puzzled, his eyes narrowing at the sleeping she-cat.
"Yes," Barley meowed critically, "her fur was completely streaked with mud when I found her here last night. She was curled right up in the doorway. I guess she really isn't a WindClan cat."
Suddenly, the she-cat twitched in her sleep, making both toms jump. Then, she slowly blinked her eyes awake and let out a yawn. Ravenwing realized with a pang of alarm that her eyes were also a peculiar color—a dark gray. She was quite beautiful, if not unusual.
Then, the she-cat let out a large screech and sprang to her paws, her fur bristling and her teeth bared. "W-who are you?" she commanded fiercely, although her voice shook and the fear scent rolled off of her in waves.
Ravenwing took a step backwards. "We don't mean you any harm," he soothed, "my name is Ravenwing—this is Barley."
Barley smiled. "Ravenwing, hnn?" he muttered to the black tom, "so StarClan did give you a warrior name?"
Ravenwing muttered: "Later," in return. He turned back to the pink-furred she-cat and he meowed: "Who are you?"
The she-cat seemed to relax, for she let out a sigh and her shoulders slumped. "My name is Petals of Palest Rose," she meowed, "but please, call me Rose." She extended her right forepaw and turned it over in a strange sort of gesture. The only reaction she got from both toms where blank stares.
"You're customs are strange to us," Barley meowed quickly, "where do you come from?"
"I come from the Tribe," Rose answered confidently, as if she were positive the two toms could not be so ignorant, they did not know what the Tribe was.
Ravenwing and Barley exchanged a confused glance. "The Tribe?" Ravenwing meowed tentatively.
Rose nodded, cocking her head sideways. "The Tribe of Rushing Water," she meowed, "do you know of different Tribes in this area?"
"No," Barley meowed, "we do not even know what a Tribe is."
Rose looked aghast. "So you mean there are no Tribes here?" she meowed, her voice trembling. Her tail drooped and her head hung.
Ravenwing interrupted. "Wait," he meowed hesitantly, "by 'Tribe', do you mean something like a group of cats that live together? Like a Clan?"
The she-cat brightened immediately. "If by 'Clan', you mean many cats that hunt together, guard together, share together, and live their lives together, yes! The Tribe of Rushing Water is just like your Clan, except there are many cats." She looked at Ravenwing and Barley with disappointment in her eyes. "Are you two a 'Clan'?"
It was the black-and-white tom that answered this time. "No," Barley meowed, "Ravenwing and I are loners. That means we have no Clan, but Ravenwing was in a Clan before."
Rose's head shot up, her eyes sparkling with delight and hope. "Really?" she meowed, "does your Tri—I mean Clan—have many cats?"
"Yes," Ravenwing meowed, prepared to explain all of Clan history to her. "There are four Clans that live in the forest, ShadowClan, WindClan, ThunderClan, and RiverClan. They all have different territories, and one Clan cat is not allowed to trespass in another's. You're in WindClan's territory—they have the windy moors."
Rose already looked overwhelmed. She settled down on the ground, her gray eyes clouded, shaking her head. "Four Clans," she meowed quietly. "There was only one Tribe in the mountains. You're system sounds so complicated, Ravenwing, I admit. And WindClan territory is most uncomfortable." She sighed, and then looked hopeful again. "I was a prey-hunter back at my Tribe, and so was my sister, though my brother is a cave-guard. Do you have prey-hunters and cave-guards and to-be's in your Clans?"
Now it was Ravenwing's turn to look confused. "Those words are all unfamiliar to me," he meowed, "in the camp; the hierarchy system has six parts. There are leaders, deputies, warriors, queens, elders, apprentices, and kits." He looked up to see if Rose looked too confused, but when he saw that she was only curious, he continued. "Kits are young cats that are not yet six moons old. When they are six moons, they train as apprentices, which are warriors-in-training. When you finally receive your warrior name, you take on full-duties. She-cats sometimes become queens, which are cats that are expecting kits. You are an elder when you retire," he finished, pleased that he remembered so much about Clan life. "Leaders make all the decisions around the Clan, and the deputy is the one that succeeds her should she or he die. My leader was Bluestar," he meowed wistfully, remembering his wise and compassionate leader.
"Amazing," the she-cat whispered, almost to herself, her gray eyes stretched wider than moons as they looked into Ravenwing's. "So many Clans...and so well organized! It sounds so different from what we had in the Tribe of Rushing Water."
Rose was eager to tell both toms about what life back at home had been like. "You are a 'kit' when you are not yet able to leave your mother's side. She gives you a simple name, like 'Brook', for example. When you are able to walk, talk, run, and function like one of your Clan 'apprentices', you would become a 'to-be,' when you train to be either a cave-guard, a prey-hunter, or a kit-mother. When you take on one of these three tasks, Stoneteller, our leader, gives you a new name. If your name was 'Brook', he might change it to 'Brook Where Small Fish Swim'," Rose completed. She looked away, wistful. "Brook is my sister. My brother is Talon of Swooping Eagle."
Ravenwing began to understand some of the Tribe's lifestyle. "I see," he meowed thoughtfully, "where is the Tribe's territory?"
"I think I know."
The interruption came from Barley; the black-and-white tom had been listening all this time, but now, he spoke up. "The Tribe's territory is beyond WindClan's. From there, you must cross another Twolegplace, and many, many fields. You will see large snow-capped mountains, and you must wind your way up those treacherous and dangerous paths, where the slip of a paw can lead to death. You will eventually stumble upon the Tribe of Rushing Water. They don't have to fight other Tribe cats for territory because there is no other breed of cat that could survive that harsh weather and that difficult hunting."
Rose and Ravenwing were both astonished.
"How do you know all of this?" Rose meowed at last, her eyes bigger than ever. "You say each of these details as if you have actually been there! The only part you did not mention was The Salt Water that Swallows the Sun!"
"The Salt Water that Swallows the Sun?" Ravenwing meowed incredulously, his head spinning from all the knowledge he was trying to digest.
"The Great Salt-Water lies near a large cove," Rose explained, "and it is a vast expanse of water, greater than anything you have ever seen before. It seems to stretch on forever and ever. As the day ends, the sun sinks below The Great Salt-Water, as if it is being eaten! Once the sun has been completely eaten, night falls."
Barley nodded. "Now, I remember," he meowed, almost wistfully, looking off into the distance with vague eyes. "Now I remember."
Rose and Ravenwing were confused once again. It seemed to be happening often to poor Ravenwing.
"But, please," Rose meowed cautiously, "you have not yet explained how you know of this, please."
"I agree," Ravenwing meowed. "How do you know so much about Rose's Tribe?"
Barley let out a wistful sigh, and he put his head on his paws. "All right, Ravenwing, Rose," he meowed, "if you want to know about my past, I'll let tell you. I was once a Tribe cat."
Author's Note: Yes, I know that it mentions that Barley lived with Scourge. Don't worry! I'll tie that into the story. I just wanted to leave you with a cliffhanger ending, wicked that I am. Be sure to review this chapter! The faster the reviews come, the faster I will update, as it really fuels my urge to write.
More to come...