A greyish-brown she-cat, obviously the leader, gazed forward, the patrol behind her was ready to spring at even the smallest of all noises.
The forest was quiet. The earth beneath the cat's paws was a deep brown color, looking darker than it actually was, giving it a very dark dusty color. The branches overhead were finally beginning to bud new leaves.
Sunlight shone through the branches, but did not shine down onto the cats, for they hid within the shadows of the tree trunks that surrounded the clearing.
One of the cats behind the brown cat sniffed the air and whispered softly, "Blood." The brown tom with leafy green eyes, the deputy, didn't look at all surprised.
A twig cracked, and all of the cats strained their ears forward.
Out from behind a couple leafless, but thorny bushes, stepped out a beautiful silver tabby she-cat, whose pelt was red with blood.
Her leafy green eyes were half-closed, mainly from exhaustion. In her jaws was a small bundle of fur, it's appearance almost looked exactly like the she-cat's.
Suddenly, the silver she-cat staggered and collapsed.
Most of the loner's wounds were deep, by the looks of it. The one that really caught the patrol's attention was the giant gash across her chest.
Her skin around her chest wound had been shredded by claws and teeth. Blood swelled from within the wound.
They could already tell that her wounds were severe.
Her body appeared as though it barely supported life because of how much blood was pouring out of her wounds.
Blood gushed out of her wounds all over her body, her jaws parted and let the small bundle fall to the ground next to her. When the bundle landed, it let out a soft mew, it continued to meow even after it landed, it was meowing in pain.
"It's a kit!" exclaimed one of the felines behind the grey she-cat. The tom who spoke sniffed the air and added, "I can smell the faint scent of milk on that she-cat!" The dusty brown tom who spoke broke out of the shadows and stood over the dying female cat.
The rest of the patrol, realizing that their cover was blown, padded out of their hiding place.
The she-cat, that looked like an overgrown mouse, trotted up to the younger female cat, she bent her head her and her neck fur bristled.
"She's not going to make it," she reported to her Clan mates.
"Please…" breathed the silver she-cat, opening her green eyes, locking gazes with the older female, the one that looked like an oversized mouse. "Please… take care of… of… my kit…"
Before the grey she-cat could reply, her deputy, the dusty brown tom, nodded quickly and meowed, "We will, one of our queens will take care of your kit until your kit is old enough to become an apprentice."
"Thank… you…" the dying female cat meowed, her eyes were almost completely closed.
"Wait!" the brown she-cat yowled, her single word sounded as if it was a command, "You must first tell us your name, and if you so wish, the name of the father of this kit."
"My name…" the she-cat coughed up a sticky red fluid, but she continued anyways, as if she didn't notice, "…is Skylark… Her father…" she coughed again, this time more blood gushed out of her muzzle. "…is known as Knight…"
She opened her muzzle once more, and before she could talk again, more of the liquid spilled out of her mouth, finally, she managed to choke out, "Please… take care of my little kit… Please! She… she means the entire world to me…" And with those last words, she took her final breath, and died.
The small kit, whose voice was cracking from meowing so much, meowed even louder, because she no longer felt her mother's warmth next to her.