Chapter 10
The sun pierced a leafy veil and baked what litter it could touch. Now that day was fully settling in, Carmen was thankful for this clump of trees. All around her the air was heavy, as if even it could hardly bear the season's aura. Birds chirped tauntingly from too far above her, and Carmen still couldn't tell a rodent's scent from human scraps, much less what kind of rodent she was dealing with. She'd taken to eating prey quickly enough, but catching and killing it was another thing entirely.
She kept her steps light. She made sure that her tail didn't brush the ground. Jaws parted and ears perked, she tried and tried to detect something as she stalked through the undergrowth. It was faint, but there was prey here. Only to Carmen's untrained senses, it could've been anywhere in these bushes. Home never had so much to take in and keep track of all at once. Out here, everything weaved and tangled and blended together in a sensory cacophony that she struggled to make sense of.
She decided to remain still, frozen like a paused television until she could better gauge things. There was no wind. Something about hunting involved the wind, right? At least she wouldn't have to worry about that for the moment. There Carmen remained, ears pivoting and nose wide open, feeling more than a little silly. There wasn't much grass down here, and the clumps of weeds were mostly brown and dead. Shreds of long-gone leaves made up a carpet which was far duller than Carmen's pelt but blended to her more aptly than a sea of fresh green. A splash of gold danced on her back. Her amber eyes glinted.
A wisp of a scent hit her and she glanced to the side. Feet. Tiny feet. Tap tap tap. Nibble. There was movement, then she honed in on the little furry figure off to her right. A mouse warily poked its twitching whiskers out into the open from its hiding spot beneath a rotting log. White and reddish brown. A bit too plump to be wild. Was this thing some human's pet? Why would they keep a mouse of all things in the first place? Did it escape? Did they come to their senses and decide to get a cat instead?
Her stomach growled as if to scold her for asking questions when there was food right over there.
But she'd no idea how to turn her body and face it without alerting the prey to her presence. She was just there-just standing there in the open like a flea-brained idiot with no plan on how to reach it. Carmen's amber eyes were narrowed at her target, her brain prickling with the frustration of knowing she had no idea what the winning move was here. Her breaths rippled across her skin, her ribs like waves fading in and out of view. Her mouth watered. It ventured outward, and a faint breeze clogged her sinuses with the mouse's tantalizing aroma. Oh, how she needed that mouse. Carmen had never felt hunger such as this.
It was getting away.
The thought of going another day without a single bite to eat was too much to bear; she sprang into action. She was too far away to pounce. She landed heavily-sloppily-and in a split second became acutely aware of how helpless she was.
Forces beyond her own control drove Carmen's stumbling legs to carry her. Instinct was innate even in the likes of her it seemed. Even pets could reach into the depths of their DNA to wrench out something feral. Her blood pumped through her ears. Her heartbeat was erratic. Crunch crunch crunch on of the fragments of dead leaves. It was bolting for a pile of pine needles at the foot of a tree. Her claws slid out to full length and she threw herself forward.
The first thing she knew and the only thing she cared about was that Carmen had it in her jaws. She wouldn't release that grip for anything. Then she became aware of her forepaws hitting the ground too early, and the momentum of her strike tossing her even farther than she'd planned. Her hind legs flew above her head and sent Carmen tumbling dizzily into the pine needles and scratchy bark. Somewhere along the line was a snap and the mouse went limp in her fangs. She was lying on her side, half-buried roots digging into her hip, panting around the fresh kill as she blinked away the spinning sensation.
Carmen didn't even care if someone had seen that not-so-elegant display; she had a meal to enjoy. It was halfway gone in just a minute's time, but she did manage to taste it. Whether it be from starvation or a victory high, nothing had ever tasted so wonderful.
As she was washing her paws and swiping grime from her muzzle, it occurred to her how awful she'd felt just a few minutes ago. How awful the Clan cats must also be feeling. Of course, mongrels were more suited for it; their mixed blood gave them special wildcat advantages. They were made to rough it out here just as Purebreds were made to live in human dens… or so, their mother had always said. Mixed-blood cats were dirty and ragged dangerously strong… or something. Whatever. None of that meant they should have to go without when Carmen was able to help provide. Besides, getting some practice in would ease this feeling of being a clueless newborn kit.
#
"Darkwood's getting older," said Stainpelt in a low voice, eyes lingering on the sluggish tabby on the old doorsteps.
"Aren't we all?" asked Hawktalon dryly. "It's how time works, rot-brain."
Stainpelt's reply was a quiet, humorous hum, as he refused to peel his gaze from their leader.
This little "inner guard" nonsense was pricking at his skin like ants. What were they, kits playing make believe? He didn't know why this little secret club was still going. Didn't know why he kept hanging around these idiots. Didn't know why they had to keep gossiping in circles to each other about Darkwood's competence as a leader. What Hawktalon did know was that he was getting sick of it.
A flash of light on gold snapped his attention to Twilightstep. She was sitting gracefully in a spot of shade, perfect as a statue with her elegant posture and tail draped over her paws. Hawktalon had been giving his fur a wash, but he stopped mid lick when she cracked open her eyes and scanned the area. Her eyes were sharp as a brand new razor blade, and they were suddenly locked on him. There was a silent invitation: care for a walk?
Hawktalon glanced at the little bundle of morons he was sitting with and felt utterly ridiculous. Standing and shaking himself off, he padded towards her to invite her on a hunting trip.
Carmen trotted along with something dangling from her jaws. He put down a paw to block her path. She halted suddenly, her fur already standing up. He leaned in close and bared his teeth at the pathetic scrap of fur that had gotten them into this whole mess. The gecko's body swung in place, her teeth clamping down it so hard that Hawktalon expected the leg to be severed and the body to plop down in the grass.
"I suppose our precious cargo is off to have a meal she didn't work for. Who caught that for you?"
Her tail flared up in an instant and she yelled up at him: "I caught it myself! I caught two things, and I ate one and this one's going to Snowy so leave me alone!"
Hawktalon recoiled. The pet biting back had been the furthest thing from possible in his mind. He regarded her with renewed interest. They stood there staring at each other for a heartbeat before Carmen snatched up her kill and ran off. He didn't move to stop her this time.
If Carmen was able to bring something in, the prey must be running well here, so he hurried over to Twilightstep. She was still waiting, not a fur out of place, with only the full opening of her eyes to tell him she'd paid any attention to that little commotion.
"It would seem our pampered kittypet has some edge after all." Heavens, her voice was like ice. Hawktalon didn't know if she viewed the matter with positive, negative, or any emotion at all. "Shall we?"
Of course, he thought, walking with her towards the little stretch of trees. You're my Clanmate. I'd love to hunt with you.
But if things came so easy for him because Twilightstep was his Clanmate… what did that make the inner guard?
