Thank you for reviewing! Really, it's greatly appreciated.
The first chapter is mostly about the two bonding rather than actually heading to SkyClan; they hold no information or guidance about the lost Clan, anyway.
As you may be able to tell, it's Breezepelt, than Nightcloud. But, later on, there's a chance of another POV on what's going on with the Clan's after they fled.
Chapter One
She didn't know how long she had been leading her son.
Her tail, draped across the lean black tom's shoulders, had lost the urge to flick long ago; it lay limply on his back now. The soft, homely moor grass that once was something that she had woken up to every morning had now disappeared. It was replaced by hard dirt - moist and pebbly.
Breezepelt's amber eyes were no longer as tired and sleepy as they had been when she had first woken him up; they were filled with a new, brighter fire, like burning an ember of a flame. His pawsteps were becoming a lighter, and his muscles were propelling him forward.
She turned away from her son, and looked to the place that they were currently walking in; she saw a dark, barren landscape, dead trees lining the sides of the pathway, ghostly and skeletal. A frown crossed her muzzle as she tilted her head to the sky; unlike the Clan's territory, the stars were scattered here – faded and almost invisible to her.
Perhaps all of the stars collided over the lake to show us how proud they are, She smiled slightly, but it was almost forced. All of the ones we lost… Not just from our Clan, but from the others, too.
A sadistic smile curled on her lips; she felt her son shift beneath her tail's hold, and from the corner of her eye, she saw his questionable amber gaze resting on her. Hollyleaf died there, sadly not from either of our claws, but, alas, it's still a victory that I don't intend to let go anytime soon, not as long as I know Leafpool and her messed up sons are still alive.
"Nightcloud," She turned as she heard her name, looking over at Breezepelt. "Where are we going?"
The question hung in the air for a moment; she herself was almost as unsure as her kit. The identical-colored black cats walked in the silence of the barren land that was behind their Clan's territories, uncertainty mingling in with their excitement.
Nightcloud bit her bottom lip; she watched as the shadows from the dead trees flickered across the hard-packed dirt, only a shade darker than her pelt.
Finally, she looked over at her kit, pressing her muzzle to his ear. She took it away, smiling softly at the tom.
"Somewhere better."
She didn't need to look back; she could feel the warmth coming from his fur, the scent of excitement warranting off more emotion that a peek at his facial expression could've provided her. Her sadistic smile turned into a softer one, her green eyes no longer boring into the blackness ahead of them.
I'd be happy too, if I were him. We've lived in a Clan that sneaks glares at us, we've been persecuted, and we've been betrayed. I know that bringing us away from this Clan is the best thing for the both of us right now.
Nightcloud finally allowed her tail to move; she removed it from his back and allowed it to lay limply behind her, swaying gently in the small breeze that blew through the barren tree branches.
The moist dirt felt cold beneath her paws; the further into the territory the mother and son went, the wet and cold the ground beneath them became.
She felt Breezepelt shiver next to her, and she couldn't help but allow her haunches to rise as a chilly wind tore through her thin, WindClan fur.
"It's so cold here," he murmured, and she could almost hear the gritted teeth that he had said those words through.
"I know," she sighed, brushing her tail-tip against his flank.
She felt him murmur something to himself, but she didn't indulge on what he had said; she learned that, as Breezepelt's mother, space was needed for the lean tom in order for him to keep a calm personality. She smiled fondly, but it quickly turned into a low growl.
Just like his…father.
She turned her head to the other direction, ignoring the stare that she felt boring into her fur. He doesn't matter to me now. She decided with a mute snarl. He's only a memory.
Nightcloud turned her head back, tilting it up to survey the bleak night sky. Rays of sunlight were beginning to weave into the dark blue ocean of sky; peach and gold-purple were coming from the horizon.
We should rest, She glanced at her son; they had been traveling for who knew how long, and she was just beginning to see his eyelids drooping. We've traveled long enough; they won't look this far out for us.
"We should get some rest," Nightcloud murmured gently to Breezepelt, watching as he jolted and looked over at her.
"Why?" he asked, looking eager now more than tired. "Shouldn't we be going faster? They could catch up to us-"
"They won't look this far out," Nightcloud cut off her kit, giving him a soft side look. "This is a barren land – I'd think that they'd look out into the other Clan's territory before out here." She tilted her head up to the dimly glowing sky, shivering as another wave of cool air blew past. "I'm not sure where we are myself, Breezepelt," she murmured, flattening her ears to her head.
She stopped, suddenly noticing the exhaustion creeping through her legs. Nightcloud turned to her son, nudging him away from the long, bleak pathway.
"There's a hole in that cedar over there," she mewed, flicking her ear to the dead cedar tree.
The old, almost-black tree had skeletal branches extending from its trunk; Nightcloud pointed her muzzle to the egg-like hole in the bottom of the tree.
I hope that the space underneath that tree is big enough for the two of us, She thought with a disdainful frown. If not…I'll just sleep outside, than. I'd rather that than have Breezepelt sleep out here.
Breezepelt sighed, the black tom looking toward the dead cedar. "Alright, alright."
Nightcloud allowed him to go first; Breezepelt's dark tail-tip disappeared into the tree's hole quickly. She blinked, poking her nose into the dark, warm inside of the dead tree; the sweet smell of rotting wood filled her nostrils.
"I think there's room for you in here too, Nightcloud," She heard Breezepelt's voice echoing off of the wooden walls of the tree hollow, glowing amber eyes blinking up at her. "It might be a little cramped, but…"
Nightcloud smiled, before snaking into the dark hallow. Her whiskers brushed against the wall of their new, temporary den, and she felt dead moss crumble beneath her paws.
She felt a shiver of fear as a realization hit her, flicking her tail-tip over the floor. Perhaps this was a foxes den or a badgers before we came here, She blinked away the ghostly visions of a reddish-colored fox curled in the moss, dried blood from cats lining it's sharp, white fangs and lips. She sniffed the air; she couldn't detect any alien scents beside their own. But I don't smell anything; if there was, the animal left long ago.
Nightcloud let out a contented mew as she settled herself amongst the dead moss, soft leaves, newly placed by something – she was too tired to investigate – resting against her belly. She nudged a twig away from her and Breezepelt; it clanked outside of their new den.
Breezepelt laid a few pawsteps away from her, probably because of his 'I'm a warrior now' façade that he attempted to play with her.
The exhaustion finally began to claw at her eyelids, dragging them down and bringing the once noble WindClan she-cat to rest.
.
.
When she awoke, sunlight had already begun to creep into their den, shinning amongst the dead moss and leaves. Breezepelt was still asleep; the black tom had his tail covering his eyelids. She mewed, getting to her paws groggily and stretching.
Nightcloud tilted her head up to survey the sky; it was a pale blue, cream and purple at the horizon from the former dawn. She tasted the air; there was still that cool chill that she could scent, but faint traces of something rotten, like the disgusting smells of the Thunderpath's that laid on the lake territory.
She turned her head from the sky and back to Breezepelt, watching as his eyelids fluttered open and the former WindClan warrior stood, stretching his spine. After finishing, he shook out his fur, sending a few leaves that had stuck onto his pelt scattering on the dead moss.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked, padding toward her son and bending her muzzle down, licking down a few loose strands of fur.
Breezepelt grunted, shaking away her tongue. "Fine," he grunted shortly, his tail flicking back and forth in agitation.
Nightcloud blinked, saying nothing. She bit her bottom lip, nodding, and turned toward the entrance to their small den.
I think he had a bad dream, She could repress that motherly aspect of her, despite the fact that her kit was a full-ledged warrior now. Or was. We're rogues now; I guess I just forgot that.
She heard a small rumbling, and turned to see Breezepelt back in his laying position, licking down the agitated fur strands on his belly. The formerly respected WindClan cat growled, flicking his tail and beginning to head out of the tree.
"I'm hungry," he muttered, climbing out of the den.
Nightcloud bent her head so that the sharp brambles that hung down from the branches of the trees wouldn't poke her eyes. She followed Breezepelt, standing up and blinking as he tasted the air before her, amber eyes tracing the barren land for any sign of prey.
"I scented the air earlier," she informed him, watching as the black tom turned his head toward her with narrowed eyes. "Can't you smell that rotten smell too?" she asked, lifting her muzzle once again and grabbing a sniff.
It still smells like that disgusting Thunderpath. Nightcloud frowned, her paws shuffling on the cold, dirt flooring. Perhaps we're near the Twolegplace – the one where the cats who went on the Great Journey said they found that Purdy cat at. Nightcloud walked a few paces forward, slipping around a dead bracken bush. I hope not.
Breezepelt bounded after her, muscles visible in his legs underneath his thin fur. "Unfortunately, I can," he growled, twitching his whiskers. "Maybe we're near a Twolegplace." He added with a affronted growl.
Nightcloud sighed, allowing her gaze to travel up toward as far as her eyes could process, to the ghost-like mist that crawled around the dark brown tree roots.
"I was afraid of that," she confessed. Nightcloud looked over to Breezepelt, flicking her ear toward the lighter-colored pathway in the dead land. "But we should go that way anyway. The farther we are from the lake, the better."
.
.
Despite the fact that she had slept only a few hours ago, Nightcloud's paw pads were just beginning to ache once again, a spot in one of her hind paws worse than the others.
She glanced at Breezepelt once again, watching as her son flicked away a fly from his ear, whiskers quivering as his nose continually sniffed. She frowned at him, a sigh building up in her throat – something that she had felt she did too much of as of late.
"We'll be able to tell if there's a rabbit, Breezepelt," she informed him, flattening her ears as her kit curled his lip back to reveal a snarl.
"I don't care," he spat bitterly, shocking her. "I'm starving, Nightcloud. We just fought the Dark Forest yesterday – the biggest battle of our lives! I didn't eat at all." He snapped, unsheathing his claws and pricking them into the ground.
She opened her mouth to call her son into obedience, but she slowly closed her mouth. He's tired, that's all. She decided, turning away from Breezepelt. He watched his own father cradle those disgraces to the warrior code – we both did.
Nightcloud turned her head back, watching as Breezepelt walked a little quicker ahead of her.
"I think I smell something!" he told her, possibly picking up on her questionable gaze. Breezepelt bounded ahead a few strides, and tasted the air once again.
Nightcloud bounded forward, standing by his side and sniffing the air. She tilted her head to the side as she smelt something warm – she couldn't tell what it was since it held no distinguishable traces, but it was something.
She tensed as Breezepelt licked his muzzle, grinning hungrily, and preparing to bound forward. The black she-cat watched as her son launched himself off, running toward the source of the smell. The prickle of fear waved over her at the thought of some fox or badger waiting for her kit, crushing him in its massive jaws.
"Wait!" she called after him, watching as the black tom bounded more and more toward the ghostly mist, toward a foreign world. "Breezepelt, come back!" she caterwauled, her paws trembling.
Nightcloud tore after her son, the ground beneath her paws like a feather at the speed she was going at. Her tail bobbed up and down like a sparrow's wing, her head lowering as she propelled herself toward her speeding son.
That mousebrain! She thought with a mute hiss, narrowing her eyes. He can't run away from me, not when we don't know where we are! This isn't WindClan territory – who knows what's out here! Badgers, twolegs, dogs, foxes, fox traps, rats, rogues…
"Breezepelt, stop!" she yowled, more urgently and harsher than before.
Breezepelt's tail disappeared behind an old pine tree, a dark silhouette of a cat moving behind the thick sheet of mist that covered the air around the dead land.
I know he's hungry, but he can't disappear from my sight like that! Is he trying to get himself killed?
Nightcloud padded quickly and fretfully through the mist, her eyes wide at the thought of her only living son being torn apart by badgers or foxes, while she stood and did nothing to save him. She blinked back her fear, raising her muzzle and tasting the air, trying to find her kit's scent through the unknown territory.
"Breezepelt, you will be in a world of trouble when I find you!" she hissed, scratching the ground with sharp claws in her fright.
She was rigid as she tasted a new smell, one that made her pelt shake almost to the core. Blood!
"B-Breezepelt!" She called out, fear making her tone more of a wail rather than a sharp call. Nightcloud's head snapped from side to side as she ran forward, trying to find the kit that she had brought on this journey away from the Clan that persecuted them.
As she ran full speed forward, she felt her paw stab against the corner of a sharp stone. Pain pierced through her paw, and she felt her spine fur stand almost on end at the excruciating feeling that made its way up to her shoulders, like lighting.
She whimpered, attempting to ignore the horrible feeling, and limped forward on three paws, her green eyes wider than they possibly had ever been.
If he dies…I can't live with myself. He means everything to me. That's my kit, the only one in that litter that survived…he was named for the breezes, because they're so strong in WindClan territory; his name suits him best.
Nightcloud raised her muzzle again, tasting the misted air. And, suddenly, it was there again; Breezepelt's warm scent, abundant. But the blood scent was almost as strong – she was getting closer to him.
"I'm coming, Breezepelt!" she called, her voice feeling no more than a whisper.
She bounced over a slither of tree bark, the ground beneath her paws feeling muddy and colder than it had back by their nightly den. Nightcloud's ears pricked as she heard a hiss, and her tail flicked, the night-black she-cat leaping through the dead bushes.
Her claws dug into the slippery ground to halt her as she caught sight of two dark shapes, shrouded by the sheet of fog, tumbling amongst the dark trees, bits of mud sprinkling on the visible ground before her.
Nightcloud gasped, shock exploding on her face, mixing in with her fear. Her shock turned to anger – anger at the cat attacking her kit – and the black she-cat allowed her claws to slash at the earth as she launched forward, teeth baring in a snarl.
Breezepelt was slashing at a reddish-brown tabby's fur, blood pooling from his wounds. The tabby tom snarled, showing off his sharp fangs and sinking them into the black tom's shoulder.
Her son yowled with pain, narrowing his amber eyes and clawing at the tom cat's belly with unsheathed hind claws, watching in satisfaction as white fur from the rogues underside fluttered off of his body and into the mud.
Nightcloud felt an overwhelming sensation of fear prickling off of her pelt; she flattening her ears to her head and let out one of the shrillest cries she had ever mustered:
"Stop!"
Breezepelt's head immediately snapped up, claws in mid-scratch, still underneath the other tom's belly. The black tom snapped his head back to the rouge, hissing, kicking him off – weakly, as she noted fearfully.
The reddish tabby rolled in the mud, dirt and blood caking his short fur. The rogue hissed at her son, who was busy shaking himself off and regenerating himself with a terrifying stance.
Nightcloud ran shakily to her kit, nosing through his fur and allowing her tongue to curl out, licking through his fur.
"Are you okay?" she asked, flattening her ears to her head.
Breezepelt gave her a small side glare, but continued to stare at the rogue. "Fine," he spat.
Nightcloud suddenly felt the anger prickle through her fur once again, and her head snapped to the rogue, the defensive side coming out of her.
"What is your problem?" she demanded, angrily.
The rogue rolled his eyes, shaking out his fur and beginning to walk away from the two rogues. "Maybe you and your son should find another territory to bounce around in – this one's taken," he suggested, but not kindly.
Nightcloud curled her lip back, but Breezepelt cut her off from snapping back at the tom.
"Why would you want some dull territory? You must be a stupid rogue," he growled, smirking at the rogues narrowed eyes and scowl.
Instead of snarling back a retort or hissing at him to be silent, the tabby just laughed, shaking his head at the young warrior.
"You must be a new one," he growled. "This territory is near those Clan's territory; you realize that the Clan's eat plentiful prey almost every day, right?"
More than you do. Nightcloud thought with a shiver.
"Look, as far as I'm concerned, rogues look out for themselves," the tom told them, turning his back to the two black cats and padding off. "The ones in pairs or groups are the first to become the crazy types."
Nightcloud frowned. What does he know? Breezepelt and I are on the run; we promised to never go back.