a/n: hello hi fanfiction dot net, and welcome to SCORCH!
this is a fic that i've been working on for a short while, and i've decided to cross-post my work here. i'm quite proud of what i've got so far and i hope that some of you folks can have some fun with it as well :)
i'll be doing daily updates for the first few chapters before moving to a wednesday/saturday schedule for posting. i don't see myself being TOO active here, but i'll respond to reviews and PMs as best as i can.
without further ado, i hope you enjoy 3
ONE.
If there was a deity above, Rusty was sure that they were teasing him.
He was once again in the depths of a forest, the leaves so dense they clouded the light from the moon above. The musty odor of leaves dug into his mouth, broken by the piercing, distinctive allure of a small furry creature nearby. There was no wind, instead just a gentle draft that daintily ruffled his fire-like ginger fur, and his striking green eyes scanned his surroundings with a piercing gaze. In the solitude of trees and the quiet night, Rusty was the largest and most powerful living thing around.
The delicious scent guided him further and further into the foliage, willing the source to come out and stand before him. He felt sharp, in complete control of his mind and his actions. The leaves rustled nearby and he was boring down on the bush where his victim surely sat, unaware of his presence. The ginger tom felt his hunger rise at the thought of his prey - he would be satisfied soon.
Slowly, gently, without daring to breathe, Rusty raised his haunches and unsheathed his sharp claws from his stumpy little ginger paws. He gave the mouse one final moment to notice him, try to escape, before he pounced into the bush and slammed his claws down.
With a tiny, pathetic squeak, the mouse squibbled away from the deadly piercings of his claws. Rusty whipped his head around - he felt the tips scrape at the skin, he knew that he had not missed. It didn't take long for his green eyes to pick up the scrambling figure of the vermin darting desperately for a hole in the nearby tree. Not today. With barely a moment to properly adjust himself, the tomcat threw his entire body at the tree where the mouse was hiding and yanked his claws downward.
He missed, instead awkwardly slamming into the tree as his claws hit dirt, giving his prey time to escape. Cursing under his breath, Rusty turned on his paws and saw the mouse bolting deep into the forest. He reared back on his haunches, fully intent on racing after his target and getting his kill, when-
WHACK!
The ginger tom flinched as a claw sliced through the darkness of the forest and stabbed right through the mouse killing it where it stood. Though indignation was the first emotion that shot through his veins, Rusty's jaw slackened and eyes widened as he saw venomous yellow eyes slowly peek through, turned right at him as if they were staring right into his very soul. Fangs glimmered into view, deadly teeth sharp as bark that almost glimmered in the scant moonlight - soon enough, Rusty was staring down a feline that looked three times his size, looking like he could slaughter him with just a swing of his paw.
And as the monster looked at him with eyes glittering of maniacal menace, Rusty was afraid.
CLANG!
A loud crash made Rusty jump, and by the time his eyes adjusted he was no longer in the forest. Instead, he was standing upright on his own cotton bed in the stout living room of the house he lived in, one of his owners standing over the sink as she washed the dishes. Any trace of the delectable scent of the mouse or the threatening presence of the feline were long gone, replaced with stale air and artificial yellowed light that dully reflected back on the dark windows where nighttime was falling.
It was a dream. It was always a dream.
Rusty didn't know how long it had been since he arrived on his owners' doorstep - probably several weeks by this point. Any scent of his home had been washed and wafted away, replaced by the gross, dusty pellets of food that he ate almost every day. It wasn't like life was horrible here - the owners were nice enough and sometimes scratched him between the ears, but it was undeniably a nothing life he was living. His sister, Princess, had joined him on the journey here and stuck around and the housecats down the block were…at least not hostile towards him, but the ginger tom was still struggling to adjust from a life where he could be killed by anyone anywhere at any time to just lounging around in a house all day.
Giving a stretch to his back and slowly dragging his pads across the carpet until he was moseying across the white kitchen tile, he made his way towards the flap door to the backyard. It wasn't completely dark, but the rolling layer of clouds carrying rain into the forest coated the outside and brought the damp smell of wet wood and soaked asphalt. The tomcat's ginger paws sank into the muddied dirt with every step as he walked up to the back fence and scaled the wood to his perch.
From here, Rusty could see the edge of the forest which seemed to stretch infinitely into darkness. It was his favorite place to be, just by himself staring into the trees and wondering what life was like out there. He had grown up in a place that was completely different - a world of noise, reek and bloodshed. This felt quiet, lush and filled with delicious prey that was much more substantial and flavorful than drenched sewer rats and bugs. Even just looking at the treetops filled him with a sense of peace, and his mind pranced around with fantasies about how incredible life would be in there.
Yet he'd heard plenty of warnings about the things cats had seen in that forest - slaughtering wildlife, chewing on bones, feral cats killing other cats for territory…Rusty usually wouldn't have been bothered by those, but he knew better than to go against the will of his older sister no matter how much he disagreed. After all, she was the one that kept him alive on the trek here.
Speaking of Princess…Rusty heard an effeminate giggle all too familiar with him now and rolled his eyes as he turned to see the luscious, all-white molly on her back and purring as a white cat with black spots gently licked her fur clean with his tongue. He had stopped gagging at the sight of the two being so buddy-buddy by now but still couldn't hold back some sign of frustration at the sight of his sister cozying up with the cat next door.
Smudge was nice enough. He was really stupid, yes, but things that he did were certainly out of genuine care. Though the earnestness and glittering in his eyes definitely wasn't as impressive to Rusty, considering that the only thing that he had seen was this secluded block of a backyard with the only violence being gossip from three houses down. It had done a number on his sister, though, who was now almost spending more time in his yard than their own. Either she didn't have the same qualms with the source of the housecat's personality or she just didn't care.
Rusty really thought that Princess wouldn't be the kind to indenture herself to some idiot who knew only kindness. But it was probably something that he would never tell here. What was the point in choosing who you spent the rest of your life with if it kept you safe in the end?
"Rusty! Fancy seeing you here," said Smudge, turning and nodding to him with that same friendly smile that had wrapped his sister around his claw. The tom couldn't resist at least hiding an eyeroll out of sight of his sister as he approached, casting unfiltered judgment on the two, "Say, did you hear about what happened to Henry the other day? Cats are saying his folks took him into the vet."
"Cool. Good for him," said Rusty uninterestedly, not bothering to ask what the "vet" was.
"Yeah…means he'll at least be around to tell more stories. The old fool definitely has a way with words, doesn't he?"
"What are you doing out here so late, Rusty?" said Princess, raising an eyebrow at her brother, "I thought you said that you were turning it in early."
"Couldn't sleep," shrugged the orange tom, "Besides…I was thinking of going out into the forest for a bit. Just to look around."
The two cats had parallel reactions. Smudge's eyes lit up with interest - he had definitely been sold on Henry's wacky tales about his supposed adventures in the forest - while Princess looked at her brother as if he had grown a second head. " Are you crazy!? " hissed the white she-cat incredulously, "Rusty, you've heard about what goes on in there. It's dangerous. "
"Relax. It's just for a look."
"They eat wild rabbits out there for breakfast. You don't stand a chance if you see one!"
"That's why I'm just looking around ," hissed the tom, a distinctive youthful bite in his voice, "If I scent one, I'm running back. I promise. "
"That's a promise you can only make if you don't die out there," snapped back the molly, "And it really is better to be safe here. You know there are some cats that perch out here and just watch? They're just waiting for someone like you to be bold enough and think you've got what it takes to stand with them."
"Plus, their claws are wicked sharp," chimed in Smudge unhelpfully, "I hear they sharpen their claws on old bones."
" Seriously, I can take care of myself for just a few minutes," hissed Rusty with an eyeroll.
"And if it wasn't so dangerous, I wouldn't be saying no."
Frustration boiled over. It often did for Rusty these days - seeing his sister, one of the strongest cats he knew, dissolve before him into just another kittypet easily won over by the kind words of someone who had their claws shaved off. The confinement was getting to him. He didn't want to be domesticated like everyone else here.
He didn't want to let this place win over the shreds of his past he had left.
"Fine," huffed Rusty with a dramatic turn, "I guess I'll just solemnly look out of the window and try not to vomit listening to you talk sweet with this useless, brainless blob of fur."
He didn't even get the chance to finish his exit before Princess had her teeth on his nape, dragging him over the fence into their own yard. Rusty mewled and kicked around pathetically, trying to break free of the grip as he was ungracefully tugged and thrown onto the garden to face his furious sister. It was always embarrassing getting handled like a kit - she was probably the only cat in the world that could get away with doing that.
" What the cuss is the matter with you? " hissed Princess with a dangerously low growl in her voice. Rusty flinched at that - "cuss" was city lingo, only reserved for when you were really mad at someone.
"Do you really think I'm still a kit?" said Rusty, matching the drop in her voice to keep the argument private, "That I can't get out of danger if it comes by?"
"It's not about that, Rusty," snapped the white-furred molly, "I deliberately volunteered to come here to protect you. In fact, I was the only one who wanted to even be around you after…after what you did. And I promised that I would protect you from danger to your face. Do you think that I'm just gonna let you roam free and get yourself killed on my watch?"
"Oh, I'm sorry ," bit back Rusty, "You've done a great job at protecting me, if your goal was to make me miserable for every second I'm trapped here by snuggling up to that…that slobby piece of ratkill ."
" You better leave Smudge out of your rants- "
"No, let's talk about it," pressed on Rusty as he got right into his sister's face, "What even is the point of protecting me if you're just gonna go off and snuggle up with the first cat who says some nice words to you? When did you decide that keeping the city blood alive was less important than-"
" I care a lot more about it than you, clearly! " spat Princess furiously, " Since what you want to do is just go gallivanting into danger as if you didn't learn your lesson from last time. "
"That was different!"
"Oh, of course it was 'different.' That's the only excuse you have now? And you say I don't know what's best for you?"
"Yeah, you don't ! How can you possibly -"
" I can't see my family again because of you! Of course you don't know what's good for you when you're the cussing reason we're here in the first place, you cussing sewer-brain! "
Rusty saw it coming. It was how all of their arguments ended and why he never won them. Because she was right - he was the reason why they had to come here, mewling sadly in the middle of a rainy night on the front doorstep until the housefolk took them in, never being able to see their brothers or sisters or mother again. Princess had been the only cat who stuck by him, swearing to take care of him and protect him from danger when no one else wanted to. Of course he had every reason in the world to be grateful to her and listen to what she wanted for him.
But how could she possibly be happy with this life? Especially when a world of freedom perhaps greater than the city they were forged in was right across their backyard?
That question kept the anger burning in Rusty's eyes. And Rusty saw something change in Princess - a haunting, terrible revelation that his desire to keep himself safe would never satiate or dull this hunger he clearly had for something more. Princess didn't know what he wanted…hell, Rusty didn't even know what he wanted. But it definitely wasn't going to be something found within these wooden fences and comfortable life.
Finally, with a frustrated and burnt-out sigh, she gave in. "If you want to go out there and get yourself killed…fine. Do what you want."
Rusty didn't feel relief at hearing this "blessing." As he watched Princess turn back and hop the fence back into Smudge's garden, he felt anger grip him. He wanted to yell back at her, demanding that she understand what he wanted. That he didn't want her to protect him all his life.
That perhaps he would always want to return to the city life, even if he could never go back to the city.
Face scrunched shut, teeth gritting, Rusty felt the fire burning in his gut flush down to his paws, and he turned and hopped the fence between his house and the expansive, infinite darkness of the forest before him. He growled with every breath, paws stomping recklessly on the ground as if he were a warrior going into battle. He would show her. He would prove to Princess that he was made for something more than being someone that needed to be protected.
He would prove to himself that he had not forfeited his chance at a great and powerful life just because of what happened in the city. He would burn his own path.
He walked for a while, stepping over roots and kicking over branches with a swing of his paw before the swell of anger began to fizzle out; and he came to a stop and looked around.
He could not see the path back or the lights of his house. Just trees and the endless sky. He was lost.
"Ah ratspit…" he cursed to himself.
It was fine…all he needed was to get a sense of his surroundings. Maybe he could pick up the scent of the wood of his fence or the flowers in his garden. But when he closed his eyes and parted his mouth, hundreds of new scents bore down on him - that of wood, of flowers, of prey and more that he had no ability to recognize. Rusty's eyes shot open, head spinning with every breath that he nearly felt faint. It was one thing being in a place he didn't recognize, but not being able to scent a way out was so much worse,
He tried to think of what to do…should he call for help? No, he shouldn't. He didn't even know if the "wildcats" that lived here were even real, but if they were then they probably weren't friendly. Especially since one of the scents ripping into his brain was probably a territory claim. He glanced up at the trees and thought of climbing, but he had never climbed a tree and didn't know if his claws were sharp enough to even break into the bark. Surely if he just picked a direction and walked, he would get out of the forest…but where would he end up? He had no idea how big this forest was and what was in it…some predator could snatch him up and punish him for his ignorance. And even if he did make it out, where would he end up? He could be in a completely different set of houses and spend days trying to search for his way back.
He had no sense of where he came from - the wall of scents had made sure of that. Calling for help would probably accelerate his death and he didn't know if he could find his way back home if he ended up on the other side of this forest. Princess was right - he really was going to die here.
Okay, so what should he do now? He wasn't in any present danger, so he might as well try to at least find some way out. Maybe getting some kind of food inside of him would help him think…
Just as his mind crossed food, he caught a rustling of an undergrove nearby. He couldn't tell what it was, the scents obfuscating each other in his cluttered brain, but the way that the leaves rustled tipped Rusty off that it was food. And he may have never caught live prey outside of the city walls, but maybe it wasn't the worst idea to at least catch one if he was going to die here.
He remembered what he had done in his dreams…low to the ground, haunches up, claws out. His breathing slowed as his jade green eyes focused in on the spot where he had seen movement. Rusty thought of how delicious the piece of prey would taste…how the nourishment would somehow bring him enlightenment on how to get him out of here…and he jumped.
With a loud rustle, the ginger tom crashed into the bush, slamming his claws into the ground and hoping for his paws to prick at something. Yet while his instincts on him being locked on prey had been correct, his sloppy landing allowed the vole in the bush to skitter away into the night. Again, just like his dreams. Slashing his claws against the rain-soaked dirt in frustration, he got up and tried to go after it. Might as well, since giving up on the hunt would only heighten his fury.
He made it about three steps when horrific clarity suddenly crashed down upon him like a cold splash of water. He froze in place as a scent washed his palette, communicating a single thought to him over and over again.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
Where was it? Was it up above? Rusty's head whirled around here and there as he tried to get eyes on what was setting him off. His eyes tried to pick apart darkness from darkness, bring form to the trees and bushes and thickets shrouded in the dead of night. There was no direction of scent to his untrained mind. It was everywhere. It could practically be on top of him. Rusty was sure that the panic alone from picking up the scent would make him drop dead. He was going to die here, he just knew it…
There! Suddenly, there was a rustle between two ferns and Rusty's eyes closed in on that patch of night. With all of the focus his young brain could give him, he could pick out the form of something…yellow eyes. Watching him. A face and paws keen staring him down as if he were prey.
Like his dreams.
If Rusty weren't about to die, he would have laughed.
Slowly, he tried to back away as if that would save his life. The ginger tom was shaking now, not knowing if safety awaited him if he continued stumbling away from the wildcat. The eyes continued to look right into his own - yellow, glittering orbs lavishing over his undernourished housecat form. Rusty almost didn't want to look away, thinking the moment he took his eyes off of the figure he would be attacked and killed. HIs heart was hammering in his chest, his brain flooded with silent pleas for mercy, some other punishment for his ignorance that didn't lead to death.
His hind paw clipped onto a root behind him. He flinched. And the wildcat launched into an attack. And he fled.
It was nothing like running at full speed in the city, the flatness of the walkways making all chases a battle of speed and speed alone. With no clear paths in front of him, Rusty nearly tumbled over himself as he wove through trees, jumped over branches and kicked his paws free of muddy spots. The pattering of paws was right on his tail, the scent of danger almost encroaching him. Rusty knew that he wasn't going to outrace this cat, not in their own territory, but he could think of nothing else to do. Turning and trying to battle this cat was death. Slipping was death. Everything except running was death.
Over, up and under he went, heart frantically beating and breath heavy in panic as he continued to run and run and run. Surely this wasn't how all of his dreams of the forest ended, just him being slaughtered for stepping foot in the forest, searching for some great purpose in his life beyond just confinement in a garden with stale food and only the sight of adventure outside of him.
Maybe there was a way out. Maybe he could-
He tripped before he even got to the worst possible idea. With no chance to catch his pawsteps, his heart jumped as he crumpled and rolled across the forest ground. He felt bark scrape the skin beneath his fur and mud splatter onto his vibrant orange fur, turning around and seeing nothing but the sky and the ever-approaching footsteps of his killer.
This was it. This was where he died. With a loud, panicked mrrow , he desperately kicked up his paws to try and shield himself from the wildcat as they approached to kill him.
And it…worked. Just as those horrible yellow eyes were upon him, Rusty's hind legs met the soft skin of the wildcat's belly. The lack of resistance and the noise of the wildcat being flung aside, wind knocked out of them caused the ginger tom's eyes to fly back open and body to turn to the side as he saw his attacker on their side, coughing as they stumbled back onto their paws.
Rusty wasted no time continuing to run. Yet reinvigoration made his paws tingle at the small victory. Clearly, the wildcat wasn't expecting him to retaliate. If he could continue to catch the wildcat off by surprise with small maneuvers and quick thinking to get them off his trail…
He tripped again.
This one hurt. As he crashed to the ground, he could feel pain swell up in his front right leg. Just as he was finding some sense of confidence, the pain clouded up his brain. He tried to get up, but with every stumble he made to get up he could hear the pawsteps again approaching. His quick thinking meant nothing now. This was where he died. Rusty tried to think of something to do, but his mind had simply gone blank.
The undergrowth behind him broke and the wildcat was here. Rusty closed his eyes and braced for death, death deep in a forest searching for purpose that he had been taunted with but could never find.
One second passed. Then two. Nothing.
Rusty's eyes slowly blinked open. The pursuit had stopped. His eyes darted around…had it all been a dream? Had this entire day all been a dream? The pain in his leg was still quite real, but…there was no way that he had gotten away. His attacker had been right on top of him.
He glanced around and let out a harsh gasp, nearly soiling himself as he saw the wildcat not two paw-lengths away from him, looking down at him. Yet his yellow eyes were not filled with menace or pursuit. It was…curiousity?
"You alright, kittypet? Seemed like a nasty fall."
The voice made him flinch and kick back further away from the yellow-eyed tom. His voice was rough, a tousle in his timbre that gave a distinctive accent to his words. Almost like every word was ragged and unpolished, yet his voice seemed devoid of threat. Like a switch had been flipped and his motivation to hunt was gone.
"You put up a good fight," said the wildcat, drawing his tongue across his paw pad and dragging it over his face - he was cleaning himself just moments after trying to hunt him down, "Y'know…for a tame kitty."
He was being mocked, surely, but Rusty still couldn't take the shock that he was still alive. "Who…what…wha-"
"Oh, I'm not gonna fight you," said the cat with a friendly flick of their ear, "You were just on our territory and I wanted to chase you out. And now you're out!"
"Wait… what? " Rusty looked back behind him and there indeed was the shining of lights and the lining of fences that made up his home. This wildcat had chased him all the way back to where he came from. "I…But I thought…"
"Gave you a good scare, right?" said the wildcat with an excited smirk, "Betcha thought I was gonna…eat you or something. But I'm not like that. Everyone just says to give curious kittypets like you a good chase outta here so you don't come back."
Rusty felt more and more stupid by the moment as he got a better glance at the cat who had been chasing him. The light shifted enough so that he could see that his assailant was not only far from the monster in his dreams, but practically his size. Shaggy gray fur coated him, a stripe of near-black fur tracing his spine, and his once threatening eyes now glittered with teasing innocence. The biggest difference Rusty picked up on, however, was the burling muscles bringing out his fur. The ginger tom had always been skinny, all muscles he had built working on a short diet in the city and then being underfed with the gross pellets his housefolk gave him. This tom not only looked well-fed, but looked like every waking moment was spent training himself for combat. In comparison, he looked like an absolute monster that could destroy him with just a couple good whacks to the head.
"I'm Graypaw, by the way," said the wildcat, "I'm training to become a warrior for ThunderClan. That's the Clan who owns this spot of land."
Rusty blinked at that. So there were wild cats out here, organized in clans. He was more surprised that Henry had actually told a story that had some bit of truth, but realized how lucky he was with every passing minute. If this Graypaw was still in training…what would have happened if he had been attacked by someone who had completed their training. The ginger tom was clearly still on edge, though he was sure enough that he wasn't going to be slaughtered where he stood to try and stand. "What…kind of a name is Graypaw?" he asked cautiously, wincing as the slur of his city accent made his words almost tumble along his tongue.
"Oh, apprentices take the name 'paw,'" said Graypaw, unusually eager to talk about this Clan where he lived, "So when we turn six moons old our leader changes the last part in our name from 'kit' to 'paw.' Then, when I finish my training I get a new name that the leader chooses. I've always wanted a cool name like…like 'Grayheart.' That's the name of my mentor, Lionheart. But my dad says that I'll probably just get Graystripe cause of the stripe on my back. Maybe if I do something super heroic, Bluestar will give me something more epic. Because epic warrior names make you feared and you're really cool and stuff. Bluestar's our leader, by the way. She's someone you do not want to mess with. She's got nine lives."
The rambling was what disarmed Rusty. This really was a cat his age chasing after him because he was on his territory. After that ramble, Graypaw seemed to remember that Rusty wasn't supposed to be out here at all and just asked "Wait, why are you even out here? Don't you know this place is dangerous for kittypets like you?"
Rusty had a feeling the term "kittypet" was supposed to be insulting, but he could care less about being insulted if it meant walking out of this forest alive. "I…just wanted to look around."
"Well, you got lucky running into me. Cause if you ran into a real warrior, you'd be leaving here with some real scars. I don't think that would be necessary, since you're not from any of the other Clans."
Other Clans? "Wait…there are more of you?"
"Yeah, of course!" said Graypaw, who was very bad at hiding that he thought Rusty was incredibly dense, "There are four whole Clans that live here. I'm just surprised that you haven't heard of us…I mean, we've been in this forest since forever. Fighting for territory and prey and all that. You should be glad you didn't run into any of them…especially ShadowClan. They would have ripped you to shreds if they saw you…"
Graypaw seemed unsettled even mentioning their name. And Rusty was left to confront the fact that this cat that had him convinced he was gonna die was afraid of something even bigger. The world really was much bigger and scarier than he had thought.
"I mean, I don't expect you to understand," said Graypaw with a shrug as he went back to cleaning off his paws, "We chase kittypets out for a reason. They're not meant for a life like this."
That made Rusty's fur prickle for the first time. The blunt outrage he felt from this cat telling him to his face that he wasn't supposed to be here, let alone so nonchalantly. Even if this cat could beat him in a clawfight with ease, he wasn't going to be insulted like that. "What makes you think that I'm just a 'kittypet?'"
"Well, I mean…" said Graypaw, gesturing with his tail towards the house, "That's where you're from, right?"
"No! I mean, yes, I live there, but…" stammered Rusty, 'I wasn't raised like everyone else there."
Graypaw just looked confused. "Huh?"
"I grew up in the city far away. I lived on the streets with my brothers and sisters providing for us. Scavenging for trash, living on nothing but remains from the cityfolk, battling with each other to keep each other alive…" said Rusty, his city drawl coming out in full force. Yet Graypaw looked so mystified that he had to stop. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"No."
"Well, I am good enough to live here," said the ginger tom indignantly, "I gave you that kick, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah, but…" said Graypaw with a sigh, "We just…don't take in kittypets. Cause it takes a lifetime of training to be like us. And you haven't had that. You don't know anything about us, you weren't raised to be like us…"
"Well, I can be like you!" snapped Rusty, feeling a swell of confidence rush through him once again, "Watch!"
Graypaw blinked. "Well, it's…not up to me. I'm just an apprentice."
Rusty immediately felt stupid. "Oh. Right."
"Look, it just…makes a big difference, being born here. Being a warrior…it's in my blood. And wherever you were born, you just…don't have what we do."
"Graypaw! "
"Mouse-dung!" said Graypaw, whipping around back into the forest, "You need to go…that's my mentor."
Rusty felt that same sense of panic overwhelm him again, not wanting to come face to face with one of these cats that Graypaw had told him were even more dangerous than him. Without a moment to waste, the ginger tom got back on his paws, wincing as his scraped leg flared up in protest as he tried to limp away towards his house…
" Hold it right there, kittypet. "
A powerful, booming feminine voice crashed down from above him. Rusty froze in place, feeling his nerves freeze and prickle as he slowly looked up. High in the sky sat a she-cat that looked to be twice, maybe three times his size, muscular form brought out in the starlight as she slowly descended down towards him. As she gracefully hopped from branch to branch, eyes boring into him like a vulture, the ginger tom slowly lowered himself to be flat on the ground, shaking in fear.
The she-cat stood in front of him scrutinizing blue eyes cast over his small, youthful form. Her fur seemed to glimmer almost blue in the lowlight - Rusty's stomach dropped as he realized that this was probably Bluestar, ThunderClan's leader with nine lives. I'm totally dead. She's going to kill me here.
There was movement next to him, and Rusty glanced to the side to see Graypaw being carried by the nape to stand in front of him by a ferocious looking ginger tom looking to be three times his size. The owner of that masculine voice that called out Graypaw's name - Lionheart.
Well, here he was. Being looked over like he was prey by two of the most powerful cats in this ThunderClan. Surely he wasn't going to make it out alive, not from this.
" Explain. " said Lionheart, deep and commanding voice almost making Rusty's ears ring.
"H-He was on our territory and I chased him out!" said Graypaw, the fear and shame in his voice heavy, "He's no threat - he's a kittypet from Twolegplace. I was just gonna give him a good chase and leave him to go back so he wouldn't return-"
"And you decided the best way to do that was to commiserate with this kittypet?" said Lionheart coolly, "You know better, Graypaw." Rusty could see the gray tom wilt at that , alongside that prickle of anger inside him for ThunderClan's dismissal of him for living in Twolegplace.
"We will discuss this further when we return to camp," scolded Lionheart, gesturing for Graypaw to follow, "Come, Graypaw-"
"Just a moment, Lionheart."
Bluestar stepped back from her close observing of Rusty, allowing the ginger tom to look up and see the contemplative look in her water-blue eyes. He didn't like the way that she was doting over him like a foreign creature, but figured that acting defensively would be a quick way for his claws to go through his throat. After a moment longer, Bluestar spoke right to him.
"You're not from here, are you, kittypet?"
Rusty froze at that. "Uhh…I, uh…how do you-"
"Natural hunting ability, observant eyes for your age…with the way you've looked out into this forest, you've been wanting to come here for a while," said Bluestar, voice cool and washing over Rusty's pelt like ice, "Yet you look so overwhelmed even stepping foot in here…clearly you're not from a forest, yet you have the signs of being trained to hunt…"
"Bluestar, we're wasting our time here," said Lionheart with a sigh, "Just send him back to his Twolegs."
The ThunderClan leader didn't acknowledge the other tom, keeping her focus right on Rusty. "Where are you from, kittypet?"
The young tom felt his voice abandon him as he struggled to speak. "I'm…I-I'm from the city. Down…far away from here."
"The 'city.'"
Rusty nodded. "My sister is from there as well…I was raised there with the rest of my family."
Bluestar clearly didn't care for details. "Well, whatever this…'city' is, it's given you quite the potential to be a good hunter."
Something swelled in the ginger tom's chest at that…something about the way she was talking about his ability. Rusty raised his eyebrows. "What…what are you saying?"
"Nothing at the moment," said Bluestar with a bit of bite in her voice to suppress any idea he had as she turned to Lionheart, who seemed to pick up on what she was hinting at.
"You know that's a risk we can't afford to take, Bluestar," he murmured under his breath, "We have enough kits to feed. The Clan will be outraged if we take in a kittypet at a time like this."
"That's not all I'm saying, Lionheart," said the she-cat quietly, giving a knowing look. Slowly, Lionheart's eyes widened as he picked up on what she was implying.
"You can't be serious. He's a kittypet. "
"A kittypet that can be taught to hunt and defend himself," said Bluestar with a shrug, "How many more of kittypets like him are you going to see?"
"But you saw how he reacted out here," murmured Lionheart quietly, "He looked like a vole on a Thunderpath."
"That's nothing to be concerned about with a bit of training."
"I just…it doesn't make sense. There's no way that StarClan even knows this cat exists."
"StarClan does work in mysterious ways."
Rusty was growing more and more apprehensive by the minute with the way that the tone around him has shifted. He didn't even have time to comprehend the realization that Bluestar had apparently been watching him - probably longer than tonight. But the way they were talking about him now, emphasizing basic traits that he had learned to survive. Then there was this "StarClan" and them knowing of his existence. His mind was spinning - the disdain of these warriors for housefolk cats was very much clear, but he was being raised above them. Like he was a special kind of cat. Someone that they had been searching for.
Rusty got the sense that he was being roped into something big. Something far bigger than he could have ever been prepared for. And the thought alone cleared his brain and left him with one singular shining thought.
He wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to join ThunderClan.
"Well, let me put it this way, kittypet," said Bluestar, turning back to Rusty, "You've got a lot more than anyone else living in that Twolegplace of yours has. And I know a lot of cats back there will disagree, but I think with some training you might become a fine warrior for ThunderClan-"
"Yes."
Bluestar blinked in surprise. "What?"
"You're asking if I want to join," said Rusty firmly, "My answer is yes."
Neither Lionheart nor Graypaw took well to this, with the former snarling at the insolence while the latter cringed. " Bluestar was not finished speaking to you, kittypet- "
" Rusty. "
All three ThunderClan cats froze at the ginger tom's retort. Just moments ago he was afraid for his life, fearing that these cats who dominated him in size and stature would kill him the moment he said something wrong. But something was in the air, the way they looked at him. Rusty could sense it. They saw something special in him. Rusty had been waiting his whole life for someone to see something special in him.
This was exactly what he had been waiting for. And he wasn't going to take an opportunity like this quietly.
"My name is Rusty," he said to Bluestar, voice firm, ambitious, confident, "And I want to become a ThunderClan warrior."
a/n: chapter two will be posted tomorrow.
any and all feedback is greatly appreciated.
with love,
cj