Thanks to World of Make Believe, Anonomsus (if you were trying to spell 'anonymous', you fail, no offence...), Willowfur, starpaw, Fioralba, and Flock (You're back! =hugs=) for reviewing! Well, I know it's been a bit of time since I updated... But here we are nonetheless :D
DISCLAIMER: If you think I own Warriors... FAIL.
Six
Chicory wasn't sure what to do with this new emotion. If course, she had experienced anger at cats before, but that seemed to be a pale echo of what was happening now.
Blood roared in her ears as the anger pulsed through her veins. Chicory was sure that fury was supposed to make you stronger and somehow all-powerful in the heat of the moment, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect on her. Her paws felt too heavy to lift, as though literally weighed down with her rage, as well as the fact that her mind seemed to be working at about half the speed it usually did, refusing to cooperate and simply drumming out 'they killed Windflower, they killed Windflower, they killed Windflower' over and over again.
As she tried to think over this pounding rhythm and puzzle out what would be most logical to do - attack, flee, stay limp in the tawny cat's paws - a cat's desperate yowl rose above the noise of the battle.
"Please! You can't want this!"
In that heartbeat, as though controlled by the mew, Iris and Sycamore's kits - Tulip and Ivy - flinched away from Chicory as though she had burned them.
A new emotion swept through Chicory - relief. She was finally able to raise her head, open her eyes, and get to her paws. The anger was dimming slightly now, the chanting in her head a dull throbbing rather than a heavy drumming. The white she-cat arched her head over her back to lap at her pelt briefly, which was strewn with leaf litter, especially her belly where it had been pressed to the ground.
However, the antagonism in her system had not dissipated completely, and, remembering Tulip and Ivy, Chicory straightened and narrowed her eyes. But the two cats seemed to have melted into the throng of cats, all of whom were poised mid-strike, heads turned towards the cat who had yowled and eyes confused.
"There's no point! Fighting like this... there's not a point!" Chicory's attention snapped back to the she-cat speaking. There was a definite plea to her mew, but that wasn't all. It was familiar to Chicory - almost too familiar.
Ducking past a black she-cat with a white tail-tip, who was freeze-framed in a battle stance with a very young cream-furred she-cat, Chicory followed the source of the mew back to the point where Crocus, Poppy, and Holly had spoken earlier.
Two tiny kits - one grey tabby, one dark brown and tortoiseshell-splashed - caught Chicory's attention before the actual cat talking. They were both gazing adoringly up at their mother, green eyes round and shining. They didn't realise the gravity of the situation. The last dregs of Chicory's anger drained away as a nagging in the back of her mind tried to inform her that she did know the speaker.
"...not even a proper unit, so why should we all leave together? Yes, we'd probably be stronger as one, but are we really going to be one with how quickly we jump to fights?"
Heather's mew was low and despairing, yellow eyes passionate. Twitching her whiskers in surprise, Chicory wondered briefly at how much motherhood had changed the young cat in the two moons since they'd met before the meaning of what Heather was saying caught up with her.
"Much as I hate to admit it, you're making sense," called out an elderly pale brown she-cat, a mixture of bashfulness to be speaking out and shame to be backing down clouding her expression.
"Cowslip?" A long-furred black tom sitting next to her flicked his ear in confusion.
Cowslip butted the tom's flank affectionately. "Oh, can't you see, you daft furball?" she purred. "If this cat's idea works, we can still stay right here."
The black tom's eyes weren't the only pair that gleamed with a sudden understanding and glee. The silence broke as understanding dawned on ever cat. The murmurings, which had been almost nonexistent before, grew louder and more pronounced among the cats.
"We can stay, we can stay!" Chicory let out a light purr as she recognised the ecstatic yowl of Snowdrop, the white she-cat who had muttered all the way through Crocus's earlier speech. Two more meows - presumably Snowdrop's siblings' - joined her chant. "We can stay, we can stay, we can stay!"
It was a simple plan, Chicory realised, but the perfect solution. Of course they didn't all need to leave. The cats who wanted to stay wouldn't want to be dragged along, anyway.
"It'll be less pressure on prey if only a few of us stay behind," a grey tomcat spoke up.
"That's true, too," agreed Heather, over the noise. As the hubbub subsided slightly, the dark silver she-cat flicked her tail at her now-play-fighting kits in mild scolding. "So I propose," -she raised her mew slightly- "that we should gather into two groups - go and stay. The stay cats can gather beside that dead tree over there, and go cats can stay here."
As soon as the words left Heather's jaws, Chicory spotted Snowdrop and her grey-and-white-furred brother break ranks and pelt towards the blackened, rotting tree nearby. A little further behind followed a cream-furred she-cat and two older cats, evidently their parents.
"Hurry up, Primrose! You're so slow!" Snowdrop yowled, but there was teasing in her mew.
"Coming!" The cream-furred she-cat sped up her pace, leaving her mother and father to amble.
It was as though the young cats' conversation was a signal. Like dogs following a Twoleg command, cats began to migrate towards the dead tree, a steady stream of ginger, black, brown, white, and tortoiseshell fur.
Chicory retreated backwards, not wanting to get caught up with the stay cats. She was considerably surprised at how many of them there were. There was nothing keeping her here, nothing, and the young cat was almost as eager as Holly to escape the place where Windflower had died.
"Cedar! Bracken! Come on, stay here. You want to go on a big adventure, don't you?"
Chicory jumped at Heather's mew. The dark silver queen was evidently trying to round up her two kits and stop them getting lost.
"So, you're leaving?" Despite her casual tone, Chicory felt the usual embarrassment almost choke her at speaking to another cat.
Heather didn't look at all surprised to see her. Her yellow eyes narrowed. "Trust me, I'm not planning to bring up my kits anywhere swarming with Twolegs. Behave, Cedar," she added, tone sharpening. Nudging the wriggly grey kit closer to her side, she nodded at a silvery-brown she-cat with an identically coloured kit. "Unlike that mousebrain over there, I'm being a good mother."
Chicory recognised the tomcat Lime's kit from earlier, when she had begged to leave. Swivelling her ears to listen in on their conversation, she noticed that the kit's wishes hadn't changed.
"But I want to go!" the kit complained, trying to tug herself away from her mother. "Why can't we go, Willow? Please?"
Her mother snapped back, "You're too little, Elder. There wouldn't be enough prey, and it would get too cold. Besides, we've always lived here. Give me one good reason why that should change."
"Because I want to go!" Elder wailed with typical kit-like stubbornness.
"Great moon above!" sighed Willow.
Beside Chicory, Heather snorted. Chicory thought she heard her mutter something about 'downy feathers' and 'brains'. The pale striped she-cat twitched her whiskers, amused, as Heather noticed that she was there.
"I suppose I'd better leave..." she mewed hurriedly, trying to disguise her annoyance with Willow and failing badly. At Chicory's startled look, she added, "Leave to find Beech, I mean. Toms are never around when they're needed." She shook her head.
Even before Heather stopped talking, Chicory was thinking about her own family. What had happened to Holly and Pine? And Lilac, for that matter? "Me too," she agreed vaguely.
"Do you want me to help you find them?" offered Heather.
Thinking of Holly, Chicory shook her head quickly.
Heather's eyes darkened, obviously thinking along the same lines. "Hmm. Maybe you're right. Your mother and I... didn't exactly part on the best terms the last time we met."
Chicory nodded fervently in agreement. She certainly didn't fancy provoking her mother any more than was necessary. "Well... Bye," she mumbled.
"Goodbye." Heather hesitated, and then bent to clumsily lick Chicory between the ears. "You're a good cat, Chicory," she meowed awkwardly. Chicory was visited by the idea that she was not the only cat that felt uncomfortable among other cats.
Heather's eyes flicked back to her two kits, who had vanished, obviously mischief-bound. "Kits!" she screeched, darting away without another word.
Chicory purred in amusement, eyes warm. She hoped that she wouldn't become that much of a worrier if and when she ever had kits of her own.
The purr died in her throat as she wondered, yet again, where her family were. Most of the cats had now separated into go and stay, and Chicory assumed that her family would be on the go side, and yet...
But, as it turned out, Chicory didn't have to look very far. Heartbeats into her search, a tortoiseshell blur dodged through the crowd and careered into her, knocking her backwards. Chicory's nose told her that she had just been winded by her sister.
"Chicory!" Lilac's eyes were wide.
"Lilac!" Chicory gasped crossly, struggling into a more dignified position. She wanted to ask 'why are you speaking to me' but that seemed rude, so she settled instead for, "What are you doing here?"
"It's Lavender and Cornflower," explained Lilac, her mew high-pitched and her eyes still wide. "And Crocus and Poppy."
This information didn't move Chicory. "Oh." Your beloved. "And?" she challenged boldly.
Lilac fixed her with a yellow glare, before announcing, "They're staying behind!"