Disclaimer: Do you REALLY think I'm Erin Hunter? Honestly.
Chapter Two is here. This chapter is definitely more exciting than the last one, and we'll meet some new characters. New characters yay. Anyway, I totally forgot to put Copper and some other rogues in the Allegiances. Please forgive me. I just added them.
By the way, my AU, WTFF is on hiatus. I realized I couldn't handle working on two fics at once. But Shadowed is only going to be about seventeen or eighteen chapters, so I'll get to working on that right after I'm done with this.
Oh, and WAMT has turned into a single oneshot for the time being. I may continue the series, but only after Shadowed is done. I love this fic and I want to spend as much time and energy on it as possible.
This chapter is dedicated to Silent Memento for all of his support, great concrit, praise and encouragement, and just being a good friend.
Shadowed
-chapter one-
Thoughts…
Blizzardfur:
The camp is quiet; unnervingly quiet. It is too early for the dawn patrol to wake, so all the dens are silent. Even the birds that usually sing, perched on the low-hanging tree branches are still curled comfortably in their nests, snuggled around their tiny, smooth eggs and warming them with their sleek feathers.
The fallen leaves on the ground shuffle beneath my paws, scraping across the sandy earth as I make my way to my den. My paws are still caked with brittle dirt, and Slashclaw's blood is drying my fur into stiff spikes. I know I must look awful, but I don't care. My weary body aches for sleep. All energy has been sapped cruelly from me, and I can feel my limbs tremble as I pad slowly, tiredly towards my den.
I push through the branches that bar the way into the bush that is the warriors' den, I heave a huge sigh that takes an enormous amount of energy to perpetuate. Inside the warm den, I see furry bodies scattered around, curled around one another, enjoying their painless and undisturbed that I wish I could mimic. I know now that, even with my crippling exhaustion, I will not be able to rest so peacefully.
I drag my limbs past the sleeping bodies of my fellow warriors and make my way to the back of the den, where a clean pile of moss awaits me. A rush of gratitude towards my apprentice Icepaw fills my empty heart. I do not even have the energy to circle my nest. I simply plop down in whatever positions my legs choose to go, and try to sleep.
At first any prospect of slumber evades me. I squeeze my eyes shut, quietly infuriated by how difficult it is to slip into sleep. I shift in my nest, adjusting my position so that my dirt-encrusted tail is covering my weary limbs, and tuck my nose into my paws. I feel tight and compact, but not safe. I feel only restricted by the compressed position. I flex my stiff legs and splay out on the moss.
Finally I can feel myself drifting away into uncomfortable slumber. The scene blurs around me, and a wave of black crashes over me. Sleep claims me at last.
-
Much too early, my slumber is ended. I can feel something prodding me in the side, but I clench my eyelids tighter together, trying to cling to the last few moments of sleep. But the poking is relentless. As I open my eyes slits, I can see a blurred face above me; wide blue eyes and soft, white kit fur framing them.
"Icepaw," I mutter, my voice still slurred with sleep. I moan loudly, unable to hide my disappointment as I remember my responsibility as her mentor.
"Wake up," she meows, her voice stern yet urgent. "You said you would take me hunting at sunrise today."
"I did?" I try to play dumb, but a huge yawn that escapes my jaws interrupts my dubious words.
I can sense Icepaw's frustration and impatience as she replies, "Yes, you did."
I sigh deeply as I shake my head, trying to rid it off the thick feeling of sleep. I clamber to my paws, sinking my curved claws into the earth below to steady myself. As I glance downward, I see what a mess I am. Dirt still clings to every inch of my tabby fur, and although the bloody spikes have flattened overnight, the blood is now dry and cakes my fur, mingling with the soil. Icepaw wrinkles her nose—half from the disgusting scent and half from my bedraggled and exhausted appearance.
"You look awful," she remarks, and I manage a small particle of amusement. Icepaw has always been blunt, even towards her authority. Featherstar warned me that she would be a challenge to mentor.
"I'm okay," I assure her, shaking my fur to try and get rid of some of the dirt. But it is packed too tightly into the tabby hair on my pelt to shake free. I sigh. I will have to bathe in the river later.
Icepaw leads the way out of the den, her tail held high in a mixture of pride and excitement. Her boundless energy and enthusiasm make me cringe suddenly, and I realize that it will be a very long morning hunting with her.
The camp is now bustling with energy. A ginger warrior is standing beside the Highrock, issuing orders to two small apprentices, who stare back at him with eager, reverent eyes. The names of all my Clanmates escape me for a moment. I cast my gaze around the clearing. Two younger warriors share tongues outside of the den, a few fox-lengths away, and a queen and her kits bask in the dappled sun that penetrates the thick branches outside of the nursery.
On the opposite side of the Highrock is Featherstar, her silvery-gray fur gleaming in the sunlight. Beside her, a white warrior with gray patches nods and listens while his apprentice stares up at both of them in awe. Their names flash into my brain with a burst of intuition. Cloudstorm, I remember vaguely, and his apprentice, Owlpaw.
"There're Cloudstorm and Owlpaw," mews Icepaw, echoing my thoughts. "Let's go see if they want to come hunting with us." She begins to pad towards them.
"Let's not," I disagree, pulling her back towards me with my tail. Cloudstorm is one of the most arrogant and aggressive warriors in the Clan, and wide-eyed Owlpaw was klutzy and prone to daydreaming. The last thing I need is to spend a morning with these two, I think.
Icepaw wilts. "Why not?" I remember that she and Owlpaw are good friends, and I understand her disappointment. Her bossy nature was easily remedied when she had another, younger apprentice to order around.
"Because I said so," I meow firmly, all possible logical arguments abandoning me. "Now let's go."
Icepaw sighs and continues to lead the way out of camp, her tail drooping as she pads towards the exit. I sigh with relief and follow her, ignoring the curious gazes I am receiving from my Clanmates.
"Hey! Wait a moment!" I stop dead in my tracks and groan as I realize whom the voice belongs to. I turn around slowly, cringing as I see Cloudstorm rushing towards us, and Owlpaw sprinting to keep up with him.
Icepaw bounds eagerly forward to touch noses with Owlpaw, and the two immediately engage in deep conversation. I am left to face Cloudstorm's narrowed, aggressive blue gaze.
"Yes?" I meow testily, trying my best to respond calmly and indifferently.
"Featherstar says to come hunting with you," retorts Cloudstorm, bristling under my aggravated gaze.
I try to keep my disappointment inward and remain cool and collected. "Fine," I mew, gesturing with my tail towards Icepaw and Owlpaw. "The apprentices as well?"
"Naturally." Cloudstorm's voice is cold.
"Icepaw," I meow, loud enough for me to be heard over her incessant chattering, "come on. We're going hunting."
"With Owlpaw and Cloudstorm?" she asks eagerly. I nod. "Yay!" She skips towards the exit, glancing towards Owlpaw expectantly. He scampers towards her, slipping on a fallen leaf and almost tripping. I choke back a snort.
"Where should we go?" demands Cloudstorm crisply, as we set off at a slower pace towards the ravine.
I think for a moment. "The WindClan border," I decide finally. "There should be plenty of prey there, and we don't want to risk antagonizing RiverClan by going to Sunningrocks." Satisfied by my logical response, Cloudstorm nods curtly and then turns away.
We pad through the fallen leaves on the ground, an underlying sound of crunching beneath the noise of Icepaw's chattering. The weather is pleasant enough, although an occasional, chill gust of wind sweeps through the trees and ruffles my fur, freeing it of some of the dirt. I can see Cloudstorm's nose wrinkle as the breeze blows my rank scent towards him.
"Can't you do something about that disgusting smell?" he mutters, evidently trying to make it low enough for me not to hear. He knows that I have authority over him, but I am too tired to reprimand him now. Besides, no one would blame him. I know I stink.
Finally, through the trees, I see the pale strip of moor ahead. The WindClan border lies only a few fox-lengths away. I call ahead to Icepaw and Owlpaw, and the two apprentices stop.
"We'll practice hunting here," I meow over the noise of the wind. "Owlpaw and Cloudstorm, you two walk north a little to see if any rabbits have crossed the border. Icepaw and I will try for some woodland prey in these bushes."
"Fine." Cloudstorm beckons towards Owlpaw, and he clumsily touches noses with Icepaw before hurrying after his mentor.
I glance around, and see a small mouse scuffling beneath the leaves a few mouse-lengths away. I slip down instinctively into a hunter's crouch and begin creeping towards it, flattening my belly against the ground. I try not to rustle the leaves beneath me as I slink slowly forward, but this proves more difficult than expected. I glance behind me and see Icepaw watching me with intent blue eyes, and drops to her belly to try and mimic my crouch. But as she does, leaves rustle beneath her paws, and the mouse drops its nut and flees into a knot of a nearby tree.
"I'm sorry, Blizzardfur," she apologizes, looking downcast. I pad over to her and touch my tail tip to her shoulder reassuringly.
"It's okay," I assure her. "There should be plenty of other mice around here."
As I finish speaking, the wind picks up, and blows a strong scent of rogue to my glands.
Kiera:
Sunlight floods the vegetation around me, dappling it with a golden glow. It warms my tortoiseshell fur as I shift in the ferny makeshift nest. The leaf litter that clings to my back is uncomfortably cold compared the sun's warm rays. I wriggle on the ground, trying to squirm free of the forest debris, strangely comfortable compared to the hard, stone ground on which I have always slept.
A sudden longing fills me. I want to stay in the forest—the beautiful, lush greenery is plentiful of prey, and there is always a comfortable shelter close by. I roll over so that my stomach is pressed to the cool, dew-moist dirt.
But I cannot stay here. I know how to stalk the woodland prey from months of practice, but still, this is not where I belong. My domain lies further away, beneath a smog-filled sky. The place; the human place that I have come to regard as home.
I sigh, breathing in the musky scent of the forest. The desperate yearning gnaws at my belly as I remember once catching a glance at one of the camps—how they cared and groomed their young, bringing prey to the elders who could not hunt for themselves, and their unwavering loyalty to one another. A sharp stab of pain shoots through me. No one will care for me when I grow old.
But I shake these thoughts from my head as a pang in my belly reminds me that I haven't eaten since yesterday morning. I get to my paws tiredly, flexing my sore limbs. I glance once more around the clearing. There is nothing unique about it—I remember taking extra care to smooth down the dirt after the burial. The burial. My stomach churns, but I push the thoughts stubbornly out of my mind.
I know that prey will not hide here, so close to where me, a cat, has slept, so I pad out of the clearing. The cool, squishy dirt is pleasant beneath my paws, in comparison to the hard stone ground that I am accustomed to. Ferns tickle my pelt, and I wriggle beneath their feather-light touch.
A sudden gust of wind makes me stop short, blowing the scent of mouse to my glands. I glance around ever so slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible as I scout out my prey. There. A few yards away, nibbling on a fallen tree nut, a small mouse huddles in the roots of an oak tree. I drop down to my stomach in a practiced hunter's crouch.
Good. I am downwind; the mouse cannot smell me as I creep forward, my belly brushing the ground. One paw step at a time I draw closer and closer. I judge my distance from it, and then leap.
The mouse does not see me until my claws are closed around its tiny body. I lower my head towards it, and, with a swift bite, it hangs limply between my paws. A wave of satisfaction washes over me as I settle down to eat it.
When I am finished, I carefully bury the remains. I know the forest cats' aversion to 'rogues,' or cats like me that wander on their own. I know that I am scorned by the Clan cats for my frequent hunting on their territory, but that knowledge gives me satisfaction that they have not yet caught me.
I lie on the sun-warmed ground for a moment, amongst the ferns and grasses. I dread the time when I must return to my disgusting home, but I know that I must soon. I cannot stay here forever. It is only a matter of time before the forest cats find me.
Regretfully I rise to my paws, shaking my fur free of the moss clinging to it. I remember the way I have come, across the moors, and I taste the air. Yes. I can smell rabbits north of here. That must be where the open plains and hills that I have crossed so many times are.
I pad north, my journey quite pleasant despite the dread of returning. The dirt and debris are soft beneath my paws, and the sun warms my fur with its golden rays. Occasionally I stop to lick the dew off of nearby leaves, the substance sweeter and more pure than any water I have ever tasted.
Every step I take, the scent of rabbits grows stronger, and finally I see the moorland ahead. Sighing, I trample through a bed of bracken towards it, unnoticing that two pairs of eyes are watching me.
Then, all of a sudden, I can feel a huge weight upon my back, pressing me to the ground below. I glance upward, and I am blinded by a flash of white and gray fur. Forest cat scent is all around me. I struggle beneath the cat's weight, but he is stronger and larger than I am. All I can do is wait, struggling futilely until his strength ebbs.
"Let go of me, you forest mongrel," I snarl, reaching up with one of my paws to swipe at his ear. He gives a hiss of pain as the two make contact. His blood trickles down the side of his face and makes a pool beside my paw.
"Shut up, foxdung," he retorts, cuffing me painfully with a heavy blow. As I shake the pain from my head, I hear him snarl, "What are you doing on our territory?"
I do not reply. Instead, with all of the strength I can muster, I flex, throwing him off of my back. He rolls around in the leaf litter for a moment while I regain my balance, before jumping to his paws and lunging at me.
I dodge, but he manages to graze my shoulder with unsheathed claws. While he spins around confusedly, I seize my chance and dart forward, knocking him off his paws. He falls onto his back, and I hold him down, one claw pressing above his throat.
But he does not give up so easily. He reaches up with one of his paws and makes a small but very painful incision in my cheek. I wince, my hold slackening, and he wriggles free from beneath me. I whirl around to face him, but instead find myself face to face with a small brown cat, no older than a kit. I easily shove him aside, although my maternal nature forbids me to harm him. I finally get a good look at my attacker.
He is quite large, with shaggy, bloodstained white fur. A few patches of darker, gray fur on his pelt. His face is broad, but not flat, and his muzzle blatantly protrudes from his wide cheeks. His blue eyes gleam angrily, and I notice a number of battle scars marring his muscular pelt. All in all, I realize with a shudder, this is not a cat one should pick I fight with.
We circle each other for a moment, both waiting for the other to make the first move. He is older than I, and thus has had more battle experience, I note. But his long fur and bulky muscles make him slow, whilst my slender build should allow me to slip easily away, out of reach from his thorn-sharp claws. I nod, narrowing my eyes at him.
He is impatient. He leaps towards me, claws unsheathed and outstretched. I know that I cannot best him in strength, but in speed I can. I slip beneath him, sliding on my back across the dew-moist, slippery grass, and drag my claws across his stomach as I glide. He gives a screech of pain as he tumbles to the ground after his impressive leap. Blood streams from the deep scratches that I have left across his belly, staining the dirt below.
"Filthy rogue!" he screeches. I hear a rustling from behind me, and, to my shock, Blizzardfur appears from the ferns to the right of me. Another, smaller cat is with him, her white kit fur puffed up and tense for a battle.
"Kiera," meows Blizzardfur, sounding as surprised as me. "What are you doing here?"
"Just passing through," I reply casually. There. That would infuriate the white warrior. I began to groom the small wound on my shoulder.
"She's been hunting on our territory," hisses the white tom. "She has the scent of ThunderClan prey all over her!"
Blizzardfur leans closer and sniffs, but the scent of our mingled blood has overpowered the prey smell. He furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. "There's no prey scent, Cloudstorm," he meows diplomatically. "I can't prosecute her for simply passing through."
"But I smelled her," protests Cloudstorm, hatred dripping from every syllable. Blizzardfur fixes him with a stern green glare, and he falls silent, still glaring furiously at me.
For the first time, I get a good look at Blizzardfur. His fur is matted and dried with blood, but there is still a majestic look about him. His head is raised high on his powerful neck, and hard muscles are visible beneath his furrowed tabby coat. Even his green eyes gleam with a quiet sort of authority.
"I'll let you go this time, Kiera," he mews, his voice edged with warning that seems somehow slurred by weariness. "But you cannot hunt on our territory. The prey here must feed our Clan, and our Clan only."
I shrug, refusing to acknowledge my intimidation. "Fine," I agree easily, trying to sound breezy. I get to my paws and pad towards the moorland ahead.
"Where are you going, Kiera?" he calls after me.
"Home," I yell back. And then I turn my back and begin the journey home.
To my annoyance, the journey is far too quick. Although my paws drag through the tall grass, the travel is over quite briefly. As I perch on the top of the hill and look down over my home, I wince. Down the hill, a few yards from the first path, a dark ginger cat's fur gleams in the smog surrounded by other battle-scarred pelts.
It's never going to end, is it? I think, as I brace myself and begin to walk down the hill.
Done! This chapter wasn't very dark, but I still had fun writing it. We got to meet new characters, Cloudstorm and Owlpaw. They'll both play pretty integral roles later in the story, as will Copper and the ginger cat near the end.
Constructive criticism appreciated. I seem to have lost all my reviewers since the first chapter. XD Oh well.
I'll try and update it this quickly next time, too. This chapter only took me two days—hopefully the rest will take me such little time, too.
-Breeze