The first thing she noticed was the cursed blue sky, not a single cloud in sight; the dry heat was coming off the sun in waves and sinking past her white and gray kitten-soft fur, prickling the sensitive skin underneath uncomfortably. The second thing she noticed; a new, strange sent.
She wondered out of the bush she had taken her nest in, stretching out her limbs in the soft sand beneath her paws. The sand directly around the bush was shaded, protected from the sun, but she knew if she ventured out any further in the Dunes, her delicate kitten paws would likely suffer from burn.
She shook herself, grains of sand falling from her pelt, and she took a few steps forward anyway. It was close to sun-high, and the sand was hot on the pads of her paws. Quickly deciding she didn't care, she opened her mouth to get a clearer sense of the strange new smell.
Cats! She realized quickly, her bright green eyes widening. They definitely weren't beach cats, she knew. She would have recognized the scent. Could these be the cats that resided on the Bigcliff? Or maybe the mysterious cats that seemed to come from the ground?
She bounded after the scent-trail, following it down the beach. It wavered closer to the water, over the hills of the Dunes; she felt a pleasant blow of the salty sea wind comfort her hot pelt, never-minding her burning paws. She took a deep inhale, almost missing the sudden turn of the scent-trail in the wind that the waves carried, turning abruptly back into the Dunes.
The little she-kit slid down the Dunes after loosing her footing from turning so quickly, receiving a mouth full of sand at the bottom of the sandy hill. She shook her head fiercely, attempting in vain to push all of the sand on her tongue out of her mouth with her sharp little-kit teeth. She growled in frustration, taking it out on a small clump of sunflowers, leaping at the tall, yellow-petal brown clump at the top of a stalk as it gently waved in the wind. She landed directly on top of it, taking it down with her, landing on her feet, but just barely. She hissed at the sunflower, batting it with small white paws before remembering her task at hand. The strange scent!
She bounded toward the green scrub behind the Dunes, where the scent was leading. The dunes did a good job separating the beach from the green scrub, but it was more than a hassle to be leaping back and forth to follow the scent. But she didn't care. This was an adventure!
She kept a firm lookout around her, not just for the strange cats that carried a smell so foreign, but also for other potentially unfriendly cats. Not all the cats on the beach were welcome of passer-byers. If she passed an unfriendly bush, being a kit might not excuse her from an unsheathed claw swipe – she was a kit that stuck her nose where it didn't belong many times over, ever since she was just three moons old, separated from her mam. She was known for being a sneaky, unwelcome pest.
Yet it didn't bother her. There were too many new things to see, too many scents to follow, too many stories to track down. If being a pest meant seeing everything she could with little avail for other cats, so be it. However, with this is mind, she still didn't want her current adventure interrupted. She dropped her chest to the ground, her tail in the air, as she stalked the strange scent.
It was growing stronger by the mouse-tail. So close already! She regarded gleefully, listening carefully as she crept. She knew if the strange cats were just ahead, there wasn't a chance they could smell her. The salt-water waves caused the winds to blow back and forth through the beaches more often than to and fro the sea. Besides, the Dunes and dune scrubs would block a majority of the wind if it did decide to change – because while it usually stuck to course, there was no telling when the whipping wind would change.
The wind was loud, as well, and she had to strain her ears to listen for signs of the strange cats. She followed the trail-scent carefully, so carefully, as she crept near the top of the last dune before the beach scrub would take over the land, which was flat and much more difficult to hide in.
As she approached the top, she was quite certain she heard the muffled mew of a tom, his voice deep and dark and reminding her of the obscurity of the cliffs she almost wandered too close to last moon.
All she had been doing was following the silver trail of the moon, so close to the Bigfall, before a cliff cat chased her away, hissing furiously and swatting her into the water. She didn't mind getting pushed into the water, as she was a very good swimmer – her mam had taught her before passing away. What she did mind, however, was how rude the cliff cat had been. All she was doing was looking. She wasn't hunting their nasty frogs, though she was distracted by one and chased it a little too far into the Pines for their liking, apparently.
Back at her present adventuce, she hoped the tom would be keeping the other cats busy, their minds elsewhere, so she could figure out what they were doing at the Clifflands. They didn't smell of cats anywhere near here; they smelled of travel and fatigue. What would bring faraway cats to the beaches? She wondered. She took the risk of peeking over the sides of the Dunes.
And there were the cats! Four of them were large, sleek, jet-black cats, each with a strange white paw; then there was one that stuck out like a sore paw, with a mottled gray pelt and a chewed-looking tail. The kit quickly hid herself behind the Dunes again, thinking quickly on how she could approach them without their notice. She didn't trust the fatigue in their scent to completely blind them to her presence – simply going over the Dunes wouldn't be a way to go unnoticed.
Instead, she slid down the Dunes – carefully, on her own four paws, this time around – and darted farther down the Dunes, back toward her nest again. Running in the sand was difficult work, and took a lot of strength on her part, but she was well practiced and eventually made it down several fox-lengths with more energy to spare. She crept near the side of the Dunes, flattening herself to the sand, and crouched as she darted to the brush at the bottom of the Dunes near the five strange cats.
She knew from experience the hardest part of stalking was approaching a cat in the brush. While the sound of the waves did a good job at masking the noise, and the salty air did an even better job at masking a scent (so long the wind was blowing on the beaches instead of the Dunes), the dangers of accidently using a beach cat's bush nest next as a hiding bush were high. Most cats did not appreciate any cat using their home as an adventure stop.
She knew of a few bushes that definitely contained other cats, and avoided them carefully. She didn't want her adventure disrupted.
Her gray and white fur was not the most camouflaging among the sandy brown colors of the brush and the sand, but she was well practiced at darting between scrub brush while keeping low from her many adventures beforehand. She felt her fur start to tingle with excitement, and had to work hard not to give off a stronger scent just because she was unable to contain the anticipation. Taking a stilling breath, she darted from one bush to the other, her feet only kicking up a little sand as an expense of her speed. She could hear their muffled mews again, and slowed down just a little as she approached another bush, and then the next.
"Mouse-brain!" she heard a raspy mew, and pictured the mottled gray she-cat reprimanding one of the cats. "You can't just wander the grounds and expect a welcoming party. No, we must be careful. These cats have been on their own for far too long, they won't welcome a cat to boss them around without challenge."
The little kit had to keep herself from mewing with excitement. She kept her position behind the bush carefully, not daring to relax her stalking crouch. Slowly, she dipped her head closer to the base of the rooted bush, able to see the cats almost clearly. The four black cats were surrounding the old gray one; two of them laying in the sand, comfortably in the shade of the Littlecliff they were tucked near; another with his back hunched, clearly displeased; the last sitting with a straight back, her tail twitching nervously.
"We know this, Rabbitfoot! StarClan has come to us in our dreams, as well." The old gray cat, presumably called Rabbitfoot, flattened her ears to her head, obviously annoyed. The little kit had to strain her ears to hear her mutter something about "no respect for elders" before one of the white-footed she-cat's continued. "We're hoping that since they've been alone so long, that is exactly why they will welcome us."
"So you've planned it all out, have you?" Rabbitfoot mewed drily. "My purpose has been served, I can make my way back home?"
The she-cat shook her head, mewing anxiously, "Of course that isn't what we meant. I just meant…"
"Well pull the fur from your ears, and listen to me well." Rabbitfoot laid herself down, tucking her forepaws beneath her and wrapping her bitten, patchy tail around herself. "Even if that isn't what you meant, my time here is short. There are a few things you need to know."
"Oh, don't speak like that, you old furball!" exclaimed the other tom that was lying in the sand, jumping to his paws and thrashing his tail. "You've many seasons left in you, and –"
"Would you pipe down?" Rabbitfoot hissed, thrashing her tail as well. Her fur bristled a slight bit, and the cats surrounding her remained silent as she licked her chest a bit and returned her tail to its position surrounding her. "Now, listen. You need to continue this path cautiously. I've risked my neck to bring you to this cursed, star-crossed place, and you won't go screwing it up by leaping in with your chests out proud and your chins held high."
The little kit strained her ears, leaning forward the slightest bit, dry leaves grazing the top of her head. What were these cats doing here? None of her questions had been answered. If anything, she had more than before she followed the cat's scent.
One thing she did know, though, was that hiding in this corner wouldn't protect them forever. It was past sun-high – cats would be coming out to hunt as soon as the sun began to drop.
"You need to find a cat – carefully, you need to find a cat carefully – that will be willing to tour this land with you. We're in an unfamiliar place, and the stories passed down in the Clan, as you very well know, only share so much. You need to learn as much as you can in the shortest time you can manage, because I doubt these cats will tolerate strangers wandering for too long. You will only hunt when it is offered, and you will give thanks – yes, you will give thanks, Dusktail –" she stared hardly at the cat on his hunches, who seemed more and more displeased by the moment. "gratefully, you will give thanks gratefully! StarClan have followed us, they have not abandoned us, and you will uphold the Warrior Code! That is your fate!"
The cat called Dusktail dipped his head, seemingly apologetic. She she-cat that spoke before mewed carefully, "Rabbitfoot, you speak as if StarClan has outlined this out to you themselves. If they have shared such dreams with you, why have they not with us? Why are we to –"
The little kit had pushed forward under the bush too far, excited by the stranger's even stranger words, and snapped a twig. It was small, but loud enough for the cats' ears to prick. The four black cats jumped up defensively, but Rabbitfoot hissed, "Sit down! Remember you have not been granted your nine lives yet!"
Even so, Rabbitfoot had alarm in her eyes as the four cats gazed at the bush, tails lashing, claws unsheathed.
The little kit had a decision to make. She made it quite easily, reflecting upon the many skirmishes she had been in. The amount of cats did not daunt her. These were strangers, and she had the advantage! She felt her paws pulsate with adrenaline as she slowly backing out of the bush, taking heed to not make any more noise, to avoid alerting them to her movements.
She had lost the element of surprise, but they would still be surprised by how young she was, how ready she was to attack…
Completely out of the underside of the bush, she could just barely see the cats on the other side of the bush. "Can you smell anything?" the other she-cat hissed. "Dusktail?"
"Not through the smell of salt," Dusktail spat in disgust, his voice dripping in discomfort. The little kit decided she would jump on him, as he was the closest, the most uncomfortable in his setting. She ducked into a hunting crouch, her back shaking as she readied for her attack.
"Wait," the first she-cat meowed, her voice colored with surprise. "I think I smell a –"
The little kit pounced as hard as she could, caterwauling as she leapt over the bush. Unfortunately, she misjudged the length of the bush, and she landed so that her backside grazed the edge of the bush, prickling her uncomfortably and taking her by surprise.
Yet she didn't hesitate, and she leapt again, releasing another yowl as she took in the shock coloring their eyes, their frozen posture.
She unsheathed her small claws, and launched at the cat named Dusktail, hissing her most ferocious hiss.
And he swatted her to the side easily, before she could even touch the ground, pushing her, for the second time since sun-high, into the Dunes, and a mouthful of sand.