This isn't dead yet! Sorry for the ginormous break. I have alot of spare time now, so I'll try this again.
Disclaimer: I really don't own much of anything. This here all belongs to Brian Jacques.
Spring turned into summer and with the weather, Bergon Felis' battles became hotter and more frequent. Every single smaller tribe was eaten alive by either Felis or the Zaminols, a tribe whose warlords claimed descendance from the first cat. Examples were made of the few tribes who attempted to escape their fate. There was no neutral ground between territories anymore.
On one particularily sticky day, a Felis scout was out looking for a late breakfast. The cat wandered away from camp hoping to find a pidgeon, or anything that his fellow catgaurds couldn't have totally driven into extinction by over hunting, foraging, etc. They must have succeeded, so he decided to turn back and beg off a luckier hunter. Then, off to his left, he heard a voice. The scout carefully peered through the underbrush and saw a very Zaminol uniform. They would not be this close to camp if they weren't attacking soon. And, if he played this right, he could possibly get a promotion from this. Swiftly, he left to warn his warlord.
Soon the Felis tents were coming down, ready to be packed away on the otter slaves' backs and hauled off to a better tactical position. Riggu, who was just coming back from his first lesson of the day in the woods, heard the commotion. Confused, he grabbed the nearest beast he could find, a catgaurd, by the scruff and snarled, " What in Hellgates is going on?!"
Cowed and terrified, he replied, "Lord, the Zaminols are coming head on- scores of them! We have to retreat!"
'Retreat!' reverberated through Riggu's mind as he released the catgaurd and went to question his father. Dazed, he paused to gather himself at the warlord's tent flap. Eavesdropping uncosciously, he heard the commands of Bergon to his captains, "Those cursed Zaminols will probably come through the woods in the west. Pincering around would be their plan. We've a few hours at best to escape up North..."
Riggu heard nothing after that. "Retreat," he spat again, padding away from the tent, kicking grass clods, otters and catgaurds alike on his way. No one dared interrupt his hateful reverie. Mocking his fathers' voice, he repeated, "Pincering around the lake." Riggu stopped in his tracks, almost causing an otter with her paws full to walk into his back.He growled at the slave out of habit. 'If the Zaminols in their blood frenzy run straight into Atunra and her tribe...', he couldn't finish the thought. Riggu turned and ran blindly to towards their meeting spot. He trusted his instincts enough to lead him to where he needed to be.
His mind and his instincts were two very different things, however. His instincts told him he was on the right path, and path there was, now that Atunra and Riggu had met so often in the same spot. The thoughts fom his mind, normally not nearly as traitorous to him, whispered of his failure. 'She won't be there. She lies on her back by her own tent, a Zaminol arrow in her throat. She won't listen. You are too late.' Savagely, he clamped down on his undisiplined mind. 'My coward father said hours, but not many.' He sprinted onward, faster.
Finally, he found her. Atunra was sitting in the shade of a stumpy-looking tree, playing idly with a gray feather. Riggu stumbled in, feeling shamed at his lack of grace in front of her. Still, he shouted his message, between his desperate gasps for oxygen, "Atunra! Get up... Zaminols... attacking."
The pine marten leaped to her paws and interjected, "Slow down, you must have sprinted." Riggu nodded, and she helped him drink from the lake's water. "Felis... we're retreating North, somewhere. Zaminols are coming around the lake, you'll be overrun!"
Atunra tried to keep her pacic from showing, but inwardly she planned the thousand ways this scenario could end. She wasn't pleased with most of them. But she grasped his paw and said as calmly as she could, "I can make them move across the river, I know I can. Or maybe mother will..." For something she barely recognized as her own idea, it sounded a decent plan.
Riggu held up his free paw to her mouth, trying to stop her flow of ideas from being lost to her. They never worked as well if she said them aloud beforehand. Better to trust to her planning skills and luck. "Atunra! Atunra, go! Don't waste your breathe!"
She nodded and obeyed, rosing then turning to leave. To Riggu's momentary confusion, she paused. Meeting his eyes, she murmured, "Thank you." and closed the distance between them with a kiss. She lingered there for a second or two longer than she expected.
'I would never waste my breathe.' she thought as they parted ways in the depths of the forest to return to their vulnerable tribes.