Thanks to World of Make Believe and Fioralba for being the reviewing - I love you guys. This is the last chapter I'm going to post before I go away on holiday, so, yeah. I hope it'll be a good one :)
DISCLAIMER: Not really... Okay, not at all.
Four
The next morning started unexpectedly for Chicory.
"Snapdragon! Oh, my dear, sweet Snapdragon!"
Vaguely irritated at being awakened prematurely - even though the sun was high in the sky - Chicory opened her eyes and stretched herself into a sitting position to see her ginger-furred comrade being attacked - at least, that was what it looked like.
It took a few heartbeats for Chicory to realise that in fact, Snapdragon was being covered with furious licks, not assaulted. She sheathed her claws, hoping no-one had noticed her defensive actions.
However, Snapdragon didn't seem to be holding up much better than if a cat double his size was viciously tackling him.
"I'm fine, honestly!" he protested, struggling with a wild look in his green eyes as though he was being pursued by a pack of foxes.
Chicory purred as the grey tabby ignored him, realising that this must be Snapdragon's mother. Her previous anger had dissolved into a light amusement. Thank the moon and stars, she thought. At least I can stop feeling guilty about one thing.
Her eyes fell on a cat behind Snapdragon's mother - a black-striped grey tom with yellow eyes. Yellow eyes that were staring broodingly at Chicory. The young she-cat dropped her gaze at once, the purr dying in her throat.
"I was so worried about you!"
"Marigold." Although Chicory was looking, she could tell that Snapdragon would be rolling his eyes. "I said, I'm fine. Chicory looked after me."
"Chicory?" Marigold was clearly thrown - Chicory tried to stop her shoulders slumping and forced herself to look up.
Snapdragon's tail was fluffed up and sticking straight out with excitement. "Yes!" he meowed enthusiastically. "When all the cats were running away, Chicory saved me from the water! She picked me up and carried me, and she almost died! The water was this close-" he squinted, eyes almost shut, to demonstrate a very small distance, "-to her paws! She almost died," he added again, as though he was worried that Marigold wouldn't have the right reaction.
"No, I didn't," Chicory, who had grown more and more embarrassed as the small tom babbled on, reminded him. "The loch was still a long way behind us."
"Yeah, but still!" Snapdragon didn't seem even the slightest bit put out.
To Chicory's immense chagrin, Marigold's eyes were shining with intense gratitude. "If it wasn't for you, my kit would be dead," she whispered.
"It was nothing," Chicory insisted in a mutter, lowering her eyes again. She had decided that she liked the actual saving more than she liked being thanked for her deeds.
"We should be getting back." The tabby tom at the back spoke for the first time - Chicory noticed that his light tone did not match his eyes, which were still brooding. "Before Heather starts fretting."
Surprise flashed through Chicory. "Heather?" she blurted out, not being able to imagine the feisty young she-cat worrying like an anxious queen. "As in, Beech's mate?"
She paid for her words a heartbeat later as the grey tabby tom fixed her with a stare - her fur prickled with more embarrassment.
However, his tone was still friendly when he replied. "Yes, she's my sister. Her kits were born recently - two healthy she-kits."
"That's great!" Chicory exclaimed, despite her warming ears. "D-do they have names?"
"Of course they have names," Snapdragon scoffed. "They're not badgers."
"Don't be rude." Marigold cuffed her son over the ear before turning to Chicory. "They're called Cedar and Bracken." Her mew became slightly more inquisitive as she went on, "Why? Do you know her?"
"From... just from around," Chicory stuttered, becoming a little uncomfortable again. "Tell her... um, tell her I said congratulations."
Marigold nodded. "We will," she promised. Looking pointedly at Snapdragon, she mewed, "Say goodbye to Chicory now, okay?"
Looking a little crestfallen, Snapdragon padded forwards and touched his nose to Chicory's. "Bye." There was a note of sorrow in his mew. "Tell Holly and Lilac that I'm alright, okay?"
"I'll tell them Marigold found you."
"Come on, Snapdragon!" The tabby tom's raised mew caught both cats' attention.
"Coming, Foxglove!" Twitching his whiskers in a final farewell, Snapdragon turned and scampered away, into the throng of cats - who were somehow still milling around, Chicory noticed. Didn't they have any place to go? She supposed not - after all, it was barely sunhigh after the night they had all lost their homes. Every cat was clearly still in shock.
A low, keening cry reached Chicory's hearing. She twitched the black tips of her ears as the cats nearest her fell silent. Not able to see what was happening above the crowd, Chicory tried to weave past a few cats, managing to squeeze past a dark red tomcat and get a side view of the loch. Six blurs - clearly cats - were bearing the body of a seventh slowly towards them. An eighth figure lagged a little way behind.
"Poor cat," some cat murmured sympathetically.
Chicory felt a slight tug at her heart. A cat was dead; drowned in the loch, by the looks of it. Pity washed over her for the dead cat's family.
The small party was coming closer. Chicory squinted, just able to make out the pelt colours of the cats.
The first few, she didn't recognise - a tawny tom and a black she-cat, followed by two blue-grey she-cat - their kits? - who looked much closer to Chicory's own age. Their expressions were grim, jaws set.
As they moved into the shadow of a lone tree on the scrubby land, Chicory turned to try and see the two back cats. It was harder - the light dappling their pelts confused her as to what colour they truly were. These two cats looked much more bone-weary, dragging their paws and tails as though every pawstep cost them a great deal of effort. As the group moved out of the shade, their pelts became more visible, and Chicory leaned forward.
Her heart gave an almighty lurch as she recognised Holly and Lilac.
No, no, no, no, no... She couldn't believe it... she didn't want to believe it... it couldn't possibly be true that the dark brown cat they were carrying, pelt slicked close to his body with water, was-
"Windflower!" Chicory let out a howl of grief and broke ranks, for once not caring about the eyes that had suddenly turned to her.
One thought burned in her mind as she raced down the hillside, her stomach a hard knot. Windflower was always there - despite the limp that the rival cats had given him, he must have been able to outrun the water, and he just couldn't, couldn't possibly be dead...
"Chicory."
The patrol of cats halted as Chicory reached them. The young, striped she-cat recognised her mother's voice, dull and lifeless.
A cold, damp nose pushed into her fur.
"Pine!" Chicory's breath came in gulps, but she didn't even wonder if she might faint. Her brother nodded once, shivering violently with the cold. He had clearly been in the water, too - with his pelt clinging to a lean frame, he suddenly looked much smaller. Chicory pressed her warm pelt against his freezing one immediately. "You're alive." The whisper was oddly choked.
"Chicory," Holly mewed again. Chicory turned. Her mother's eyes were as dark and deadened as pebbles.
She didn't say a word about Windflower's death.
"This is Poppy, Windflower's sister, her mate, Crocus, and their kits, Lavender and Cornflower." The tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat motioned to each cat in turn. "We're... going to call a meeting at once... to decide how to get out of this vile place."
Save for a touch of strangulated grief and anger on the last words, her mew held no emotion whatsoever.