Disclaimer: I am Erin Hunter and I am writing to disclaim Warriors even though I own it. Yeah, right.
Chapter 7
Mossy groaned as a second thorn pierced her pad. Twistedheart certainly didn't care. Slick was the only cat that cared about her, and he was dead, all thanks to Twistedheart. All she wanted to do was to rip out the thorns out of her flesh and fling it at Twistedheart. Maybe it'll go right through his eyes, and he'll yowl in such pain, then she'll just yowl and gloat in the light of victory.
Mossy shook her head roughly; it was hardly the time to think of silly follies like those. Instead of those ridiculous thoughts, maybe she should think of getting a bunch of cats to rebel. Yes, rebel sounded like a big juicy mouse to her hungry stomach. It overruled her nagging hunger that she was sure every cat but Twistedheart and Feral were feeling. They were most likely feeling a different hunger, that of killing. At least, Twistedheart was feeling that hunger, and Feral was just being a mindless idiot and following him around. What a son of a kittypet! (A/N: Instead of son of a b**).
"Mossy, stop trailing behind, and catch up!" Twistedheart yowled.
Mossy let out a low growl, "Yes, yes, yes!"
Why did he always pay so much attention to her? If he kept it up, then she would never be able to rebel against him!
Feral shot her a glare, one with a warning in them. A you-better-watch-out look. Seething inwardly with rage, Mossy concentrated on the task of marching on the flattened yellow-green grass littered with dead, crunchy leaves, twigs, and the occasional random thorns, which just so happened to dig itself in her pad.
As the day wore on, Mossy's paw began to feel heavier, but Twistedheart kept on half-running-half-walking for what seemed to last for moons. The sun was starting to set, and the clouds seemed to be streaked with bloodied claw marks.
Not a cat dared to even ask to stop, even though they were panting, stumbling, and muttering to the cats next to them about how harsh Twistedheart was. No cat here was brave enough to ask their 'leader' anything, unless they were ready for death. Even Mossy wasn't prepared for death, even if Slick was gone from her world.
The sky was now a slightly darker shade of blue, but Twistedheart kept on going, sometimes even sending Feral to the back of the marching cats to make sure everyone was still there.
Twistedheart really was pushing every cat to their limit, and about an hour or two before moonrise, Twistedheart announced a rest. They were in a more forest-y area, and he was standing on a gnarled-looking root that offered good shelter for a cat or two.
"We've traveled far…tomorrow we will try to get even farther, and maybe we will get to Monsterclaw before a quarter moon…"
All that can be heard was panting of the exhausted cats, and even one snore of a cat already asleep.
Twistedheart treated them all a glare, and mewed, "Be ready by dawn."
Mossy sighed wearily. She would hunt before sleeping. If she didn't, she wouldn't even have the strength to even walk more than a few paces for tomorrow's march.
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Feral was always right next to Twistedheart, and now, Twistedheart was muttering.
"How will I get these cats battle-ready… there's no way I'm going to lose…"
Pacing around the root, he kept on his muttering, and Feral only heard little bits of it.
"…weaklings, that's what they are… can't even march… why, they should have their ears clawed off…"
Feral was exhausted for keeping up with Twistedheart and practically running around all those useless, weak, cats who could barely march for half a day. He would never admit it, or no less show it to any cat. He just felt he needed to always look full of energy and ready to yowl at cats that disobeyed Twistedheart.
His paws trembled, reminding him of his lack of energy, and wondered if he should leave Twistedheart.
"I'm going hunting… I'll be back…" he mewed loudly, so that he can be overheard by his leader's muttering.
"Yes, yes… bring me something…" Twistedheart mumbled.
Feral bounded away from the gnarled root, and deeper into the forest. He left himself rest briefly on a patch of moss growing on a tree, recuperating his strength. Closing his, eyes, he struggled to stay awake, just wanting to rest…
"Is that you, Feral?" gasped a shock voice, that of a she-cat's.
Feral blinked drowsily, and shock flitted into his mind as he realized that he had fallen asleep.
The cat, Mossy was staring at him with her green eyes wide, a mouse by her paws.
"What are you doing here?" Feral snarled, cursing himself for being so careless… and weak.
"I was hunting, and you were there… sleeping!" Mossy retorted.
Feral jumped to his paws, and he felt dizzy from the speed. He staggered, and collapsed in a heap. "How embarrassing!" he growled in his head.
Mossy let out an unexpected purr of amusement, which stopped, as she realized what she did.
He just felt too tired to get up, so he stayed there. After all, that she-cat had seen him fall, might as well, not look stupid getting up again and somehow falling again.
It was actually awkward, just lying there and Mossy just staring at her mouse.
"I guess I look like a mess…" Feral grunted. "Only tonight…"
Mossy looked a little uncertain, "Every cat is tired."
"I suppose Twistedheart is too… we're all living creatures," Feral mewed quietly, half-hoping that Mossy didn't hear his comment.
"Yeah… that's true," was all Mossy muttered.
Getting his strength, Feral got back to his paws, "Better go hunting," he mewed, more roughly.
Mossy gave one swift nod, a bob of her head, before she raced away.
Feral felt an odd lurch inside of him, some peculiar lurch he had never felt before. It was more than being extremely tired and having to hunt. He had half-thought that, perhaps, Mossy would offer to share her mouse. He was, after all, the second-in-command of her and other cats. Also… he had acted like the cat he had once been, before meeting Twistedheart. Yet, Mossy was a proud cat, almost like him, and she wouldn't share. Of course she wouldn't trust him enough!
"Just hunt!" he hissed inaudibly, so only he could hear.
He would hunt for himself, and by himself, and by dawn, they'd be marching again.
That was a very awkward thing to write.
Well, in my opinion it was...
Anyways, please review and the happy face will smile again (: