I'm so sorry I haven't updated for so long! My computer crashed, and it took a while to get it up and running again and to recover the lost data! Thank you for waiting so long for me to return! I promise I'll update more often from now on! Also, I'm planning to post a list of characters that will be updated as new cats appear. Enjoy!
Fleck did not miss the flash of surprise in Squirrelflight's eyes, which quickly subsided. She examined him under her cool green gaze. "Yes, now that you mention it, I can certainly see the resemblance. You look a great deal like Ravenpaw did when he was younger, aside from the white speckles." She commented.
Fleck's ears pricked. "You knew him? You knew Ravenpaw?" His voice was full of hope. Maybe if Squirrelflight knew who Ravenpaw was, she'd be able to help him earn the trust of Thunderclan. He truly meant them no harm. He wanted to get to know them, to befriend them.
"Yes. To some extent. I had no personal connections to him, but he was a trusted ally of the clan. All of the clans owe him much thanks. He and Barley gave us all a place to rest when we left our homes in the forest behind. Not to mention he was one of my father Firestar's best friends." She meowed slowly.
"Firestar was your father?" Fleck asked in awe. Now that he thought about it, Ravenpaw had mentioned two young cats, Leafpaw and Squirrelpaw, who were the daughters of Firestar. The she cat standing before him had to be the latter.
Just as Squirrelflight opened her jaws to reply, the angry screech of a she cat sounded from across the clearing, followed by an annoyed hiss.
"You old flea bag! I told you not to leave your nest! You're in no condition to be running around camp! You've just recovered from whitecough!"
Fleck turned his head to locate the source of the noise. An old she cat was standing in front of a hollow log, which Fleck assumed to be some sort of den. Fleck stared at her curiously. The cat's now dull ginger tabby pelt had clearly once been very beautiful, but now hung off her bony frame. Despite her looks, age had not taken all of her strength. Under her ragged pelt were hard, wirey muscles that could only come from a lifetime of hard work. Her bright green eyes still shone with spirit, unsullied by the passing of time. The spark of fight in her eyes made it clear that though she was old, she was not to be overlooked.
Her eyes were currently fixed on an old gray tom who had made it about a third of the way across the clearing. The tom's eyes were bleary with age, and his gray tabby pelt had lost it's luster. But he had a friendly, cheerful aura about him. The she cat glared at him, sending him a look that could kill. The fur on her bony spine was spiked up, and her tail lashed back and forth in rage. "Go back to your nest, mouse brain!" She spat.
The gray tom stared back at her, his dull yellow eyes full of exasperation. He looked just as old at her, if not older. "I'm not a helpless imbecile, Sandstorm. I may be an elder, but I can still leave my den. And I told you: I smell Ravenpaw. I'm sure of it. I'd recognize his scent anywhere." He mewed in a shaky sounding voice.
"Your nose must be as addled as your mind." Sandstorm growled. "Fine! Stay out here for all I care! But don't expect me to take care of you when you catch greencough, Graystripe!" She spun around and stalked back to her den, her bony hips poking out from under her pelt.
Graystripe watched her go before turning to look around the camp. "Ravenpaw! Ravenpaw! Is that you Ravenpaw? Where are you?" He stumbled around meowing.
Fleck started in surprise. He'd been too busy watching the argument to think about just who the cats fighting were. They'd called each other Graystripe and Sandstorm. He recognized those names! Finally, somecat whose name was familiar. He'd been starting to lose hope that he'd ever meeting the specific cats Ravenpaw had mentioned in his stories. He felt a jolt of excitement at the thought of meeting them. These were the cats he'd been told about growing up. They were practically legends to him. But why was Graystripe looking for Ravenpaw?
In a heartbeat, he realized what was going on. Graystripe must've smelled Fleck's scent, and come out here thinking it was his old friend. Fleck knew he had to set the record straight. He stepped forward, moving towards the confused elder. Surprisingly, no one tried to stop him. They must be too confused to worry about me right now. By the looks of it, Graystripe doesn't leave his den much. And most of them have no idea who Ravenpaw is. No wonder they didn't try to stop me from walking over here.
"I think you might be looking for me." Fleck meowed quietly.
The old tom stumbled over to Fleck, his eyes full of suspicion, and underneath that, hope. "You aren't Ravenpaw. And yet you smell so much like him. I've never seen you in camp before, nor do you bear the scent of an enemy clan. Who are you, stranger?"