This is the prologue to a warriors fanfiction I've been
procrastinating on writing, and I just wanted to share. (And ask what people think. ouo) A friend of mine had dared me to write a human --> cat self-insert for warriors, and it turned into... well, kind of a murder mystery with clan cats. ^-^ Yay!
The premise is that a girl is murdered and thrown into the river... at the same time as a dying kitten. And
through magic the kitten is brought to life. --- Then she is saved by a Riverclan cat, who rescues the drowning kitten and takes her in. #then ensues "omg-I'm-a-cat" craziness.
This is set about 24 YBF (or
Years Before Firestarbecause that's how we tell time, lol), just after Skyclan is originally chased out. In this story, the murder of the human girl sparks a missing persons investigation -- and brings two-legs into clan territory. As the body was carried downriver by the river gorge, the investigation is long and ongoing...
To the clans, it seems neverending. The Riverclan leader believes it is Starclan's justice, for them turning Skyclan away in their time of need -- and only the human girl herself can find the truth.
#in other words, basically a way for me to insert human thoughts/craziness into clan life. but there's murder mystery too, in discovering why the girl was murdered and untangling the messy politics of the clans.
If anyone thinks it is even a teensy bit interesting, please tell me I am hopeless and need motivation to write. cxOh -- and I was serious about the warning. I can't believe I'm writing warriors fanfiction with graphic violence and cursing, but I did, so please don't read if you are under the age to handle it! I don't want to get in trouble, please.
A girl is thrown in the river to die. A kitten is brought to life. SI.
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Off in the woods, far from town and any help, the girl screams.
It’s shrill and tearful and desperate – and is cut of by a gasp of pain, as a heavy hand grabs her by the hair and yanks. The hulking figure grunts in frustration – roughly throwing her from his shoulder – and the girl hits the ground hard; her breaths cut with gasps of panic.
“Trying to call for help again, are you?” the hulking figure grunts.
“Well, there ain’t no one for miles.”
The nearest home is over ten miles away – it’s too far and too late for any hikers to be anywhere near. No one with any sense would be out in the woods now, so few steps from the gorge…
But there
is someone there.
A little someone, fluffy with fur and too small to do anything but watch; wide-eyed and fearful, peeking from beneath the brush. The timid tom is frozen, on edge, as he watches the two-legs from across the river gorge.
“Please, I…” The smaller two-leg – the young female – seems to cough.
“I told you I – I never said anything!”
There’s a snort. As if in anger, the thick, hulking two-leg just pulls the female – her whimpers loud in the kitten’s ears – across the rocky muck. She can’t walk, somehow – on two legs or four – and crimson bleeds down the side of her head.
The little, mottled-gray kitten stares – shocked. Confused.
She’s not fighting back.
Her hind leg is bent at an unnatural angle.
Maybe she can’t.
“Please, uncle – you’re not… you’re not thinking right now—"
“Shut up!” The mottled cat flinches at the sharp sounds – he hears another cry.
The male drags her with large, thundering crunches of his feet – announcing himself to half the forest. The little tom’s ears flatten – his clan’s camp is across the moor, and even they would hear it. It made him want to flee, his limbs shaking – but whether it’s by Starclan’s will or his own fascination, the apprentice doesn’t move.
The female thrashes, then – but barely, as if she’s too weak.
“No, please – oh, God – I swear, I didn’t,” she gasps.
“I thought about it – it tore me up but I swear—"
“Then why did they call the farm, huh? Huh?” the male barks again. He stumbles back a bit, as if he isn’t quite in control of himself – but his rage seemed to step in instead.
“There I was, trusting in my little girl, and then I get a fucking call—”
The kitten doesn’t understand it. They make noises and the hulking one’s is deep and throaty – like a dog’s – but what sends shivers down his spine is the frail one, and her whimpers. It’s as if the large male is hunting and dragging his prey to be eaten – but not even a fox is so cruel. A fox would have at least put her out of her misery – a swift, killing bite across the spine – but this two-leg...
“I didn’t…” The female’s voice softens to a whisper, as if bewildered – the gray kitten can barely hear the sound.
“Oh, God, I don’t know… I didn’t…”
“I said shut up!” When the male rears again, a thick, unnatural shape in his paw, he seems thunderous.
“I am sick and tired of your fucking lies!”The kitten doesn’t understand any of it – why this male would harm a female, or come where no two-legs dare to – but there’s a hurl of the shape, a sickening
crunch, like of bone… and the cries stop. The forest seems to go silent.
And Gustpaw knows what that means.
Instinctively, it resonates in the core of his being – a law of nature taking its course – as the female falls silent. Peeking from behind the brush, the scattering of trees – the kitten can see it, as the life drains ever so slowly from her eyes.
The hulking male’s breath heaves, in and out, but he only stares hard at the female for a moment. As if he doesn’t quite believe it, either.
The unnatural shape – now stained red, like a murderer’s claws – slips from his grip.
But then… after what seemed like an eternity… the male grabs the female again.
Gustpaw isn’t supposed to be near the gorge – none of the Windclan apprentices are. One step too far and the fall could kill a cat – split a skull against the rocks. But it seems that’s what the male is here for – because he takes the female and, with a labored, filthy breath, throws her into the gorge.
The tom’s breath stops.
Gustpaw’s ears flatten and he looks away – heart catching when he hears the
crunch of something heavy against the rocks and a splash, as the female goes crashing into the water. The river is fast and, from uphill, he can just see the waves sweep even the weight of the two-leg – carrying her downriver.
The little tom feels something within him break.
The wind catches cold and sharp against his nose; carrying the thick, sticky scent of the two-leg. It’s pungent and makes him cough – it’s thick with blood, and a heavy, foreign tinge…
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With the scent of blood and the thick, acrid scent of two-leg in his nostrils, Icewhisker wakes from his dream.
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