Impish Empress: Cici, your turn to say the disclaimer.

Cici: But then I have to say you own me. I don't know 'bout that.

Impish Empress: Do you want to star in your own famfiction or not?

Cici (tail lashing): Impish Empress didn't write Warriors. She's just a random twoleg making stuff up.

A/N: The chapters will get longer once I've set up the story. Brokenstar has exactly one named female follower. Of course she's getting some screentime in this fic. Satirical Chapter Title: Girls Who Kick Ass Together Make Friends.

Chapter 2. Tangleburr

"Dog shit!" Mowgli yowls.

I drop the bit of blanket I was pullin' from a pile of trash and peer at my brother's left forepaw, which he's holdin' off the ground. He's got a splinter of glass deep in his pad, blood welling up around it.

"Does it hurt?" Snag asks.

"What kind of fool question is that?" Mowgli growls.

"I'll try to get it out," I say, crouching in front of him and studying the shard.

Once I think I've got its position, I start workin' it out with my teeth, which ain't no easy thing. I bite him a couple of times by mistake. Mowgli hisses in pain as the glass comes free, tearing more of his flesh.

Snag immediately hurries over with the scrap of blanket I was scavenging earlier. "This should help," he says, pressing it against Mowgli's paw.

"You'll stay off your paws for the next couple days, hear? Can't have it getting infected like Mama's rat bite.

Mowgli winces but doesn't say nothin', which tells me he's in more pain than he'll admit to.

"I'll go get you somethin' to eat. Live prey, not twoleg garbage," I go on.

"Ain't no need to fuss over me, Cici."

I lick his ear affectionately. "I'll fuss over you as much as I want," I say, then head out.

I decide to try hunting in the park where twolegs bring their kittens. Twoleg kittens ain't got the sense of squirrels, 'cause they play loud enough to scare off all the prey for moons. But it's cold and cloudy today, so the park is almost empty. The grass feels good on my paws, and I get to thinkin' about them forest cats again. Ain't no pieces of broken glass for your brother to step on in the forest. But they got foxes and who knows what other predators, so maybe it all evens out.

My breath catches when I spot a mouse sniffing at the low, bare branches of a bush. It lifts its head as I approach, but before it can scurry away, I throw myself forward. The mouse squeaks as I pin it down and kill it with a quick bite to the neck.

Some cats play with their prey before killing it, but Mama taught Mowgli and me it ain't right to treat livin' creatures that way. "How'd you like a hawk or a dog to use you like a toy before it eats you?" she asked once when she saw us batting a wounded rat back and forth. "Cats ain't the worst predators out there. Some do kill for pleasure, but no kitten of mine gonna act that cruel."

I take the mouse in my jaws and head back for the den. The prey-scent in my nose is so strong, I don't smell the dog until it's too late. ⠠⠭⠄⠎ a big, fluffy thing with slavering jaws, a leash trailing from its neck. I can't hold back a startled shriek as the dog leaps at me, snarling. I look for the dog's twoleg, but it's nowhere in sight. Typical twolegs, always messin' about where no cat needs 'em, but can't bother to control their stupid dogs.

I turn tail and run, but this dog's in a mood for chasin'. Its pawsteps thunder behind me, and when I risk a glance over my shoulder, I see it's gaining. Its hot breath washes over my fur, flecks of saliva hitting my flank. The dog leaps again, the tips of its claws grazing my shoulder.

I've had to put up with lots of shit in my life, and I reckon I'll have to put up with a lot more before I die. But this fool dog ain't gonna stop me from feeding my littermate. I whirl, every hair on my pelt bristling. Next time that dog jumps at me, I'm ready, raking my claws over its muzzle. The dog lets out a startled yip, but then his eyes darken with anger. He lunges at me again, jaws snapping.

Remembering a move I saw during a BloodClan initiation, I slide beneath the dog's paws and sink my teeth into his hind leg. I yowl more in surprise than pain as the dog's claws score across my flank.

Another feline battle cry rings in my ears. To my astonishment, a long-furred gray-and-brown she-cat jumps out of a bush and bites down on the dog's tail. "Go back where you came from, flea-pelt!" she yowls.

The dog has had enough. It turns and races back toward its twoleg, whining.

"Thanks," I tell the other cat, giving my shoulders a few embarrassed licks.

"You fight well for a rogue," the other she-cat says.

"What you be callin' me?" I ask.

She shrugs. "You're a rogue. That means you're not a kittypet living with twolegs, but you're not from one of the four clans either." I like our word, strays, better.

I breathe in her scent more deeply. It ain't quite like Tigerclaw's, but it's got a similar richness. And she looks a little familiar too, now that I think of it. Not that I got a good look at all the forest cats before they chased us out of our den. At least this one appears to be alone. I keep my eyes and ears on a constant swivel.

"Another forest cat? How many of you are here? Are any of you left in the actual forest?"

The she-cat lets out a mrrow of amusement, but her eyes darken with sadness. "My friends and I were exiled from ShadowClan," she tells me.

"Ain't no fun gettin' kicked outa your home," I say sharply. "Like how your lot drove us out of our den under the raised house."

Her ears droop. "Sorry about that. We were lost and just trying to survive, but we don't know twoleg places. It's hard. Who do you mean by us?"

"Why you wanna know?" I demand. "Your leader didn't seem all that bothered one way or the other when he drove us out."

The she-cat winces. "Brokenstar can be a bit... well, harsh sometimes, but he's not with us anymore." Good riddance, I think but don't say.

What I do ask is, "What made you help with that dog?" She's certainly not actin' like the terrifying forest cats of Mama's stories.

"Warriors help other cats in trouble, especially against common enemies like dogs."

Warriors. I turn that word over in my mind, wishin' I could say it out loud without soundin' stupid.

"I guess you got some strange forest name," I say instead.

The she-cat purrs. "I suppose our names are strange to you. I'm Tangleburr."

"I'm Cici," I say, surprised I'm tellin' this cat so much. "I run with my littermate and our best friend." I'm still wary, but she don't make my fur prickle with unease like that other warrior. Maybe it's on account of she reminds me a little of Risk, another stray we sometimes hang with.

"Cici," Tangleburr meows, tasting my name like unfamiliar food.

"Look, I owe you for the dog. I gotta talk to Mowgli and Snag, but if they're okay with it, maybe we can help your lot find new places to hunt and scavenge." Most of me can't believe I be sayin' this, but Mama always told us not to end up too deep in any cat's debt, and to repay debts as quick as possible.

Tangleburr starts to bristle, then forces herself to relax. "Let's meet back here tomorrow. I have to talk to Blackfoot—he's our leader now that Brokenstar's not here—but I think we could help each other out. Sometimes my clanmates can be too proud for their own good."

"Let me guess, are they toms?"

Tangleburr purrs with laughter, then bounds away. I can count on my claws the number of cats who've helped me that didn't need to. Are other forest cats—other warriors—like her?