Western Kids [C]

For a while, it seemed as though the hottest days had passed. The warm weather was getting more bearable, and jogs through the territory were becoming less a chore that left Newtspring feeling exhausted and overheated and more a luxury he was quickly learning to enjoy. He'd taken the liberty of venturing back out once he'd returned from a border patrol towards ShadowClan, wandering half-aimlessly until he'd caught the scent of ThunderClan.

His quick trot slowed to a slow, patient jog as the rocky earth gave way to soft grass, and the remains of the oak came into view. Newtspring snorted, looking disappointed he couldn't go any further. Tail swishing, he turned away, about to start the trek back before the sound of rustling undergrowth caught his ear. Too big to be prey... looking over his shoulder, he called, "Oi, someone out there? Plannin' on stayin' over there if there is?" There was a teasing mirth to his mew, and his ears twitched as he stared into ThunderClan's territory.

Starlingflare hadn't planned on being over here, hadn't really planned on running into someone either, but it seemed plans changed. As soon as he heard the voice, a slight irritation in him grew. He was planning to stay to Thunderclan's side, but as soon as it was mentioned by another, he suddenly didn't want to anymore.

"And what happens if I don't?" The Thunderclan tom asked as soon as he stepped out in the open, yellow eyes glaring down the Skyclan warrior. "Not like Skyclan is worth their weight in feathers." He commented, the tortie's head held high even if the other tom might have been bigger than him.

Turning fully, Newtspring padded back over to the oak, returning the ThunderClanner's heated glare. As he got closer, his lip curled into a sneer. "Lotta talk f'r such'a li'l cat. I don't even know if ya can swing high 'nough to scratch me, ya sure ya wanna keep runnin' your jaw?"

Tail still waving amiably, he paused to laugh before going on, "I'll show ya what if ya don't." Newtspring's voice was a warm purr, and his stance was loose and comfortable– too comfortable for a mounting fight. "SkyClan's worth more than ya any day, 'n' I'm more than happy to prove it." He yawned, rolling his shoulders, and looked around as if he was expecting another cat to appear. "Or maybe I should just scruff ya and take ya home. Li'l kits shouldn't be out pickin' big battles, y'know."

The tom's lips drew back in a snarl, as much as he wanted to slap this other warrior right now, it wasn't the right time. So he tilted his head as he looked up at the other warrior just slightly. A smirk forming on his maw. "It seems Skyclan doesn't have brains either. It seems your mentor didn't teach you well enough to not underestimate size." He commented, the muscles in his hind legs preparing him for a spring. "It also seems like Windclan didn't beat enough sense in you either!" As soon as he said that he lunched himself up and over the oak aiming to tackle the other tom to the ground.

The WindClan comment made Newtspring bristle, and just as he refocused on the other tom he was being bowled into the ground. "Hey, hey, hey!" He sputtered as his back hit the earth, forcing the air out of him. He lay there for a moment, looking dazed and confused, before his head cleared and he grinned again.

Kicking his hind legs, Newtspring shoved his paws into the tom's belly, forcing him off. "'I'll give WindClan some credit, 'least they've got manners." He rolled himself onto his paws, then shot into the other's shoulder, sending them both to the ground. It was graceless, and Newtspring ended up collapsed atop his side, claws flexing in the soft earth just shy of soft gray fur.

"They gave me names b'fore tryin' to kick my tail." A snort, and a wrinkled nose to emphasize the scar crossing his muzzle, "Did ruin my pretty face, though... whaddaya think? Maybe it adds a bit'a, hm... roguish charm?" Newtspring's smirk grew, flashing pointed teeth. Twisting himself to lean closer, he snapped his jaw right next to the other tom's face. "Maybe I should give ya some scars too. Thoughts?" His voice was light and musing, but the glint in his eyes was anything but playful. He would be dramatic, sure, but he would never throw a fight.

"As far as I'm concerned you aren't deserving of my name." The tom growled out as he was barreled into. He shoved himself to his paws narrowly avoiding the tom's jaws and claws. The offer of scars disgusting him. He knew it was only a matter of time before he got some as well being a warrior, but he wanted to prevent that for as long as he could.

"Maybe you should be a rogue if that is the charm your after, for now you are just as disgusting as the rest of your clan." The tom reared up on his hind legs a little before slashing at the other tom, not really aiming his claws somewhere specific, just wanting to deal as much damage as possible.

In an instant, paws met his body, rolling Newtspring off the gray tom. He staggered, taking a few uneven steps to regain his balance, but quickly refocused on his opponent. The comments about his Clan drew a snarl, and Newtspring was about to throw himself forward again when the other reared up, a flurry of claws and weight meeting his head.

Dizzy and with stinging wounds, Newtspring stumbled backwards, shaking his head. He could feel blood starting to rise, and he continued to shake, trying to clear it before it could run into his eyes– or mat his fur. "SkyClan's a noble, strong Clan," he spat, tail lashing. "'nd I'm proud t'be one 'f their warriors. Don't think I'd be too happy if I was on yourside." His eyes narrowed, and he let a growl continue to rumble through his throat before it turned into a rough, barking laugh. "Y'know what, though? I like ya. You're funny, an' I like a cat that can fight." Newtspring took a few swaggering steps forward, shoving his face right into the ThunderClanner's, noses only a breath away. "Give me a name, 'n' I promise not to bite your muzzle off. I'll even give ya the okay to run back home and tell the whole Clan how ya really put me in m'place."

Starlingflare recoiled once the other tom got into his face. He didn't like anyone being so close. There was only a select few that he would let so close. "Strong and noble? Hah. Your clan is housing a murderer! They killed one of our warriors so how is that noble?" The grayish tom backed up getting some distance. Not really understanding why the other tom didn't strike back but he wasn't going to run back. No. He had to send this other tom running back.

The tortie straightened up standing tall. Yellow eyes narrowed at the other. "So far you haven't done anything for me to even be remotely worried about you biting my muzzle off, and I won't run off until you do, with your tail between your legs right back to that rogue group you call a clan" Starlingflare let out a hum that sounded cocky, and like he was looking down on the other warrior. "But I suppose if you want my name so badly I suppose I can give it to a fan. I'm Starlingflare."

In a second, Newtspring's friendly demeanor fell away, his body going rigid as the other tom backed away. Tail lashing and all his fur on end, he curled his lip into something much crueler than his typical toothy grin. He marched forward to close the distance between them again, shoving his nose right back into the warrior's face.

"Don't make claims y'can't back up, Starlingflare." He snorted, burying his claws into the soft earth. "Buddy, I'm tryin' to give ya an out, but you're makin' it real hard. That ain't funny." Amber eyes burning, Newtspring gave one last snort into Starlingflare's face before straightening up. It was his turn to back up, looking over the tom slowly.

"You better not be makin' things up, or I really will pull that stupid pelt off ya." Muscles flexing, Newtspring considered charging forward again, bowling the other tom to the ground and holding his face against the dirt. He also considered his head hadn't stopped ringing, and it wouldn't be much of a show if he fell over halfway through. Expression softening, the mottled tabby looked away, almost sheepishly, claws still leaving marks as his head spun. No one in his Clan was a murderer, not SkyClan... but– "Tell me their name." He demanded, eyes snapping back to Starlingflare. "I promise t'forget this li'l show if ya just tell me who it is so I can skin 'em instead of you."

"Oh I don't make any claims that I can't back up Newt." Starlingflare said with a smirk on his maw even as Newtspring had got into his face again. He couldn't help but snort at the Warrior's threat. "I doubt you could rip off my pelt if you wanted but since you want to get rid of this threat in your clan, I will help you out." The dilute tortie said. "The Medicine cat said her name is Briarthorn. She is the only one that fits what Starclan said." The Thunderclan warrior wanted to be in Skyclan camp as soon as this information came back to them. He wanted to see their reactions, it would be wonderful.

"Briarthorn?" The large tom's body immediately went rigid, the intense look he set on Starlingflare burning with fury. "Briarthorn." Newtspring echoed, hackles rising. "That's–"

He paused. That idiot ThunderClanner had to be lying, it had to be some pointed jab to get under his fur. But... he had no way of knowing. "That's my mother." Newtspring hissed. He took a few marching steps forward, thought better of getting swung at again, and stopped halfway to the other warrior. "It can't be her." And what would he do? And when had he got so defensive over her? "It isn't her." His snarl was rough and low, and he flexed his claws again, half imagining they were buried in stupid Starlingflare's head, instead.

Did Bloodstrike know? Did his sisters know? Did anyone know before they were let into SkyClan? Would they be punished for what she had done?

"How do you know that? What's your mouse-brained medicine cat know? My ma– Briarthorn didn't do that. She wouldn't do that." To himself he added, I'll still drag her out of camp by the tail if it's true."

Starlingflare frowned.. He didn't know it was his mother. He understood the tom's reaction to the news.. If Waterlily was the one involved in anything... Thorns.. He didn't know what he would do. The dilute tom dropped his somewhat cocky demeanor, this topic becoming far more serious than just some taunting from before.

"Dovefrost received a message from Starclan. Starclan wouldn't lie. He also said Beechface, your medicine cat, received the same thing. If it wasn't true I don't know why Starclan would send it to more than one Medicine cat." Starlingfalre explained. He didn't know what else to say about the situation.

Chest heaving with breaths he didn't know he lost, Newtspring started to pace, all his fur standing on end and his tail lashing wildly. "Beechface knew." The tom muttered listlessly, almost tripping over his paws as he stalked back and forth.

"Uh– uh, well, thanks for the fight Starlin'. An', uh... the information." His vision was starting to get cloudy, and he wasn't entirely sure if it was mounting fury or the few blows to the head he took. "Gotta go, though." With that unceremonious goodbye, Newtspring turned on shaky legs and bounded off onto his own territory, disappearing with a fading chorus of curses.