Chapter 79: Loathsome Bird
Our camp was in ruins. While the dens still had some form of their base structures, they'd lost a lot of cover from the elements from leaves. Some sticks could keep out the worst of it until the foliage grew back, but what was more concerning was the barrier to the camp. Sections had burned to the ground, particularly around the dirt place. The bowl of land also had another unfortunate effect. It shielded the inferno of the camp from drifting very far, allowing it to burn high and catch on the branches and leaves sheltering the camp from the sky. Again, the leaves would grow back, but the camp would be very hot in the time to come seeing as there was no easy shade from the midday sky. I also doubted Bluestar would be too keen on standing on the high rick to announce anything since it'd heat up quickly without the overhead shade.
Fireheart had coordinated a couple patrols to dig up some small bushes to replace the ones lost in the blaze. Meanwhile, I planned out border and hunting patrols. We couldn't afford to hunt some areas too much or it'd drive the prey off. I also designated some zones to be low to no hunting zones. They were chiefly on our borders. The other clans' hunting habits would slowly push more prey onto our territory to replace our current shortage.
Bluestar hadn't quite recovered from the fire. She had a cough that never seemed to leave her and appeared somewhat distant. I came to believe it was that she had a brush with her own mortality. Bluestar used to jump to the front of any battle knowing she could she'd come back from whatever hurt her. Now, she doesn't have that luxury. She isn't ready to die. Even after all the bonus training she's given him, Fireheart is not ready to lead. He's still coming down from mourning Yellowfang. Yellowfang. That name still kindles a feeling of loss in the back of my mind, but I smother it whenever it starts to light. I will admit that I avoid thinking about her. Right now the clan needs me to soldier on. I have no time to be sentimental. Instead, I distract myself with work.
The midday sun was beginning to scorch the camp again. I was lying beneath a section of bush we dragged in but hadn't yet planted when Snowkit got spooked. He seemed to be looking frantically for something before he bolted into the bush I'd been using for shade, yowling something I could not understand.
"Hugk! Hugk!" The panicked kit cried, now cowering at my side.
"What?" Is what I mewed, which Snowkit read instantly.
"Hugk!" He mewed again, looking skyward.
He seemed to have spotted something when he pushed my head to look where he was looking. There, silhouetted against the blue sky was an avian form. It was slowly circling the camp. It's large wings were edged with a line of brown where the sun peeked past its edges. It had a hooked beak, indicating a predatory bird. A hawk. That's what Snowkit was saying…. A hawk!
"Take cover! Hawk!" I yowled to the camp, immediately ringing the alarm.
Cats dashed into any available den or bush within sight. As cats ran for cover, something from the documentaries with my old owner flashed into my mind. Hawks can at best carry about three-fourths of their body weight. That was about four pounds with a stronger one. I knew I was a bit chunky for a cat, so that'd probably put me at around ten or twelve pounds. Maybe more if I was being realistic. Either way, the hawk couldn't take me.
My musing ended when I noticed one cat, or rather kit, had not run for cover. It was Mistlekit, looking up at the sky with defiance. I had to move. That kit was likely just trying to show her bravery and get some attention, but it was a dangerous move. I bolted from my cover, trying to beat the hawk to the kit. Unfortunately, I caught sight of the bird out of the corner of my eye. It'd already begun its dive, and I still and I still had a good amount of ground to cover. I pushed myself, feeling my muscles strain as I put on a burst my body was not accustomed to. I was not quick enough.
The hawk snatched Mistlekit in its talons, ready to lift off again. By this point I could nearly touch it. I leapt to try and match it. I was so close. My claws tore into its right wing, but the bird was too fast. I didn't get a grip on it. It was already gaining altitude. My scratch was not superficial though. I must have gotten the muscle pretty good because after a few pumps to ascend even further, the wind suddenly went limp, forcing the bird into a death spiral. Its other wing clipped a branch on the way down, forcing the bird into a dive. With what little control the bird had left, it oriented itself to land feet first, which meant an unfortunate kit would take the brunt of the landing.
I bounded out, chasing the falling figure as it descended towards the edge of the camp. Finally, there was a thump. I caught up to it soon after. The hawk was flailing wildly, crippled with a broken leg and two broken wings. Nearby was a still fuzzy form. My vision went red. Before I knew it, Ravenfeather was hauling me off the bloody carnage that had been the hawk. I'd apparently dismembered it before they could stop me. One of the hawk's won legs was impaled into its chest. I almost felt sick at the sight, but I also felt a disquieting glee. It had been punished for killing what was mine.
The camp was silent as we brought back the body of Mistlekit. I knew her death was a failure on my part. She hadn't received the attention Tigerclaw's kits had, nor the special attention Snowkit needed. She was overlooked which caused her to act out and led to this situation. I was the deputy. I knew the needs of my clanmates, but I'd overlooked hers. If only I'd been a couple milliseconds faster, reacted a little bit sooner, she'd have lived. I could have done it too. I could have given in to the cold to gain that all too important reaction time. I could have immersed myself into freezing logic and beaten the hawk, but I had restrained myself. I had restrained myself, and it cost us a life. That all-too-familiar sense of self-loathing began to burn in the back of my mind. I stamped it out the best I could with resolve. The clan needed me to remain cool headed. We were still in a state of emergency. Feelings could wait for now.
The bad thing about embers is that sometimes they aren't too keen to be snuffed out. Despite my efforts, that feeling from my failure would slowly begin to build in the back of my mind, and I'd push it down again. My need to protect what was left was the only thing keeping it from becoming an inferno.