Chapter 7

At the eleventh day of his training - he'd kept track just as Lion had suggested - Fluffy was tired to his core. He had, however, made good progress on a number of things. For one, no matter how tired he was, Socks always called him into her den to share a meal with him. The tabby she-cat seemed to enjoy his company, even if it left Tiger seething. Cats also were a little less condescending than before. It seemed Fluffy had thus far proven his mettle in the grunt work of the camp and its cats' general upkeep, and maybe - maybe - he was Diamond-worthy.

I'm over three-quarters done with my half-moon, he mused, bringing another rat to the kit-mothers. Eleven out of fourteen. That's not too bad.

Lion, however, had not yet come up with a name, so Fluffy had to force him to leave it to Socks. The golden tom-cat was upset, but Fluffy was a bit apprehensive of anything the prisoner came up with.

The sun shone bright and hot, suffocating Fluffy with his own thick pelt. "Hey, you!" a lounging cat called from the main den. "Bring me some grub! I'm starved!" A malicious grin hung on his face, and Fluffy could see the remains of a rat already beside him. He didn't have a choice, though, so he did, muttering darkly under his breath. "Thanks, pet," the cat hissed. "Now get rid of these, and get out of my way," he added, flicking his tail towards the pile of the previous rat. Again, Fluffy did as he was told, burying the fur and bones in their designated hole at the edge of the camp.

"Cat!" a familiar voice called, and Fluffy turned, licking the dirt off of his paws. Socks stood at the entrance of the leaders' den, tail flicking impatiently. "Get over here."

Fluffy padded over, stretching his sore limbs as he did so. "Yes?" he asked, voice tired.

"There was metal in my nest," she hissed, pushing the slovenly made circle of hard paper, yet another foreign substance to him that was somewhat softer than the all of the dens' dirt floors, and cloth. "Can you explain?"

"I don't know," he answered tiredly, sitting down heavily. "I can't remember."

Socks blinked at his honesty. "Well...you'll need to get it all out. And make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Yeah." Fluffy dragged the metal-laced nest out into the clearing, pulling every scrap he could find out of it. Luckily, it didn't take too long, and, order-free, Fluffy returned to the prisoners' den for a brief respite.

"My," Lion said as the ragged white tom-cat padded into the den, "you look tired."

"I am."

"I know."

"I'm going take a quick nap, okay?" Fluffy remarked, curling up in his nest before Lion could answer. He was sound asleep in moments.

"I am impressed," Fluffy heard Lion say as he slowly woke up. "You slept the entire night."

"I did? Rat-dung!" he cursed. "Socks is going to kill me!" Fluffy lashed his tail as he scrambled out of his nest, anger plain on his face.

"Incorrect," Lion purred. "Socks actually advocated that you stay asleep when Tiger complained about it. Thinking back now, I wonder why he didn't simply 'shred your pelt,' as you cats say, in the first place," the tabby mused, head tilted as if deep in thought. "That does seem to be his style."

"I gotta go," he muttered, stalking out of the den.

Surprisingly, Socks was angry, despite what Lion had said, leaving Fluffy very confused as he completed his assigned tasks for the day. He ate his evening meal in her den as was the ususal now, much to Tiger's dislike. Their rat, however, was shared in silence, as neither had anything important to say. So went the next two days of Fluffy's service, leaving him with only one more. That night, Fluffy dreamed he was a bird, free of the cramped camp he'd been restricted to for the past half-moon.

"Morning, sunshine," came a rough voice, and Fluffy blinked his eyes open to see Jag smiling down. "Today's your last day."

"Today's my last day," Fluffy echoed, eyes shining. "It really is, isn't it?"

"Tomorrow you'll be tender-pawed, and you'll finally get to leave camp," Jag informed. "Now go on, get up. Socks needs to assign you your last jobs."

Fluffy did not hesitate, springing to his paws and padding happily over to where the leader sat, her silver eyes dark with worry. The elated tom-cat didn't notice. "So, what am I doing for my last day?" he asked, purring.

"What?"

Fluffy blinked. "My last day. I need my jobs. Remember?"

"Oh...right. Why don't you go play with the kits? They're the future of the band, you know."

It was a strange job, but probably not an unpleasant one. "Okay," he agreed.

"Yeah," she replied, once again not listening as she stared intensely at the ground.

A little disturbed, Fluffy padded over to the kit-mothers' den. "Hello?" he called. "It's me."

One of the she-cats, a gray speckled cat named Pigeon, looked up at the visitor, her kits pouncing on each other. "Oh, hello. What have you come with? Moon, Cloud and I are hungry."

"Well, I don't have anything at the moment...but I'll go get you all something." he admitted, venturing back out to the prey pile and returning with a plump pigeon. Pigeon the she-cat smiled upon seeing her namesake.

"Thank you," a white-and-gray patched cat called Cloud purred, glancing at her also-gray friend.

"So, if you didn't come with prey, what did you come here for in the first place?" asked the black-furred Star.

"Socks sent me to play with your kits." Fluffy replied. "I mean, if that's alright with all of you."

A chorus of "sures," "fines," and "okay with mes" was the answer.

"Their fathers don't visit very often," Cloud said softly, and the other kit-mothers nodded.

"Come on, sweeties," Pigeon purred, pulling her kits away from her tail. "Somebody's here to play with you."

Instantly, Fluffy was bowled over as an adorable wave of kits 'attacked'. Kit-sharp claws and fangs stung his pelt, but the larger cat found it cute more than anything. The three she-cats left the den without a word, and Fluffy found himself alone with the little scraps.

Five, to be exact. Two little she-kits and three little tom-kits in a variety of colors.

"I'm Dark," purred one of the tom-kits, puffing out his chest. "I'm named after my uncle!"

This led to a mass introduction from the other four, and Fluffy found he couldn't hear a single one. But that didn't really matter.

After some time, Fluffy learned a few things about kits. One, they existed in a sort of a pack, with a hierarchy of kits that either led or followed. Two, at only around four moons old, they already had each of their personalities. And three, days watching them don't last long.

The kit-mothers returned at sunset, looking happier than they had in a long time.

"Thank you so much," Star said gratefully. "We really needed that."

"No problem," Fluffy replied. "It was a pleasure."

With a bounce in his step, Fluffy picked out his and Socks's meal, bringing it over to her den. It seemed, however, that she was busy.

She and Tiger were arguing, their voices hushed but filled with rage, and neither noticed the white tom-cat standing outside.

"You can't just do that, Tiger," Socks hissed, her eyes narrowed and tail lashing.

"I can do what I want!" came the almost kit-like reply. Looking behind him, Fluffy saw that Lion was lying at the mouth of the prisoners' den, watching the mates' argument intently.

"I'm not going to let you! These cats need me! Not you!"

"Three days." The answer was almost calm, compared to his previous outburst. "You have three days to think it over before it is no longer a choice. Whether you pick the easy way or the hard way, I will become leader."

Leader?!

Fluffy dropped the prey he'd been holding in his jaws and darted back to his den, wide-eyed. Lion looked similarly shocked, but no one said a thing.

None of the four left their respective dens for any reason as twilight faded into night. And not a single word was spoken.

Fluffy's dreams were filled with what-ifs. He did not sleep well.