Just Another Drifter (CLOSED)

Just as it had been for so many moons, every step was agony.

An ivory-coated she-cat, her once sleek, beautiful pelt left ragged, unattended and marred by oozing punctures, limped through the snowdrifts at a slow but steady pace, shadowed eyes glazed over by exhaustion and pain.  How long had she been traveling now?  Where even was she, every hibernating tree looked the same!  Was she close, or had she been going in the wrong direction all along?  With a grumbling sigh, she stopped to scan her surroundings, once again in vain.  Geez...this is why the moorland is so great!  You can actually see your destination instead of guessing and failing.  I'll be back there soon...very soon...I have to be.  After a long moment, she selected a path that was already carved out of the snow - allowing herself to take the risk just this once - and continued on her path, wincing at every laborious step.

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Several moons ago...

As that horrible day had drawn to a close, the former WindClan warrior had managed to find a suitable resting place between the edges of RiverClan and ThunderClan; a small, cramped cavern carved out underground between the roots of an old elm tree, likely first made by a fox or raccoon before being left abandoned.  She had no way to know for sure - like she even cared in the first place - for the hideaway had been left for so long that all possible identifying scents had faded away, leaving only the musty smell of damp earth and mushrooms.  At that point though, she couldn't complain; the worst den was still a den, and she needed a place to tuck away out of the elements; and out of sight.  That first long night spent away from the sky she would remember forever; the way her skin twitched anxiously for no good reason, how the makeshift nest of crumbled bracken and dry moss scratched her belly and itched for days afterward...she realized that she had taken for granted the feeling of companionship and warmth gained from sleeping back-to-back with another cat...  She tried not to think about him, but even in the future, she hadn't been able to stop herself.  His soft features and blinding smile haunted her like a bad dream that never went away...and she almost didn't want it to.  She tried to comfort herself with hollow promises; when I come back and liberate WindClan, everything can go back to normal!  I'll make him my deputy, explain everything, make him understand!  This is for the good of everyone...I swear.  You won't have to mourn for long, my friend.

At first, upon climbing out of the water and inspecting her wounds, her inexperienced eye didn't see anything too severe and had quickly quelled the blood with the bountiful cobwebs at the back of her den; as the days drew on though, the she-cat realized how very wrong she had been.  She had three puncture wounds of varying sizes in her left flank, given to her by some of the pointed rocks concealed by the swirling waters of the Gorge.  The biggest one had been the worst to treat, though not too unmanageable, and the other two smaller wounds had sufficed with a single patch of cobweb and gentle cleaning.  Unknown to her though, was how badly river water affected open wounds.  Various substances, Twoleg-borne as well as natural, had seeped into her body and delayed the healing process, causing the self-exiled she-cat much more annoyance and pain than she had expected.  As she had tried to hunt within the confines of the small perimeter of safety between the two borders, she also kept an eye open for any familiar herbs, but nothing sprang to her memory at the sight of the many spiked leaves and petals.  In her clan, she had had much better things to do than sit around watching the medicine cats sort herbs; now, she almost regretted not listening in on their droning conversations.

About a week after finding herself in this predicament, the former warrior had awoken in the middle of the night - seemingly upon instinct - to find the land bathed in a haunting scarlet light, cast from the moon.  Or...was it the moon?  For night never transitioned to morning, the glow only grew brighter as the vivid ring around the circular celestial body shone more brilliantly.  Had the sun and moon become one?  Surely, nothing like that had ever happened before.  The warrior though, was not scared, merely intrigued.  What had caused this to happen?  She had heard many times in her life about disrupted Gatherings being broken up by clouds drifting across the moon, was this something similar?  Had the clans angered StarClan...or had she?  She could still remember her customary trip to the Moonstone during her apprentice days, being greeted by a snow-white tom with multi-colored eyes who had felt the need to insult and talk down to her; in retrospect though, his words had been true.  "There is undoubtedly a fire within you- even those who are blind can see it burning deep within you. It is one of your greatest strengths and perhaps one of your few...redeeming qualities.  But this strength you pride yourself on will ultimately be your downfall."  Her downfall... losing control on the edge of the Gorge had certainly been a downfall of sorts...but she was still alive.  Her reputation and pride had been damaged, sure, but she still had everything she needed to achieve her ambitions.  Her drive, strong will, strength, perception, intelligence, legacy...she was still her, no matter how many cliffs she may be pushed over.  The fire was still burning strong...stronger than ever, and in time, it would consume the territories until all that remained was what she wished to stay...no starry-eyed fool could stop her now.  She had escaped her fate, so, she could escape anything; even death.

In the end, the red sun-moon had been more of an annoyance than a hindrance; given the nature of the clans, more frequent patrols had passed her den, thus driving her further into hiding.  This time of limited prey and unhealing wounds began to weigh heavy on her figure until every rib was visible and her angled face had become even more pronounced.  No matter though...she'd been through worse.  Finally, about a moon later, the pale-pelted exile had awoken to the sounds of war; cats shrieking and spitting, terrible yowling, mournful cries...all coming from Fourtrees.  At first, she had considered just rolling over and returning to her restful night, but something about this fight piqued her interest.  It sounded big, bigger than any mere territory dispute; plus, why would they be fighting at Fourtrees over territory?  The only thing she could've compared this to was from long ago when Smokefang had attacked the Gathering during her apprentice moons; it had been hard to believe at the time that a Dark Forest warrior had raked its claws down her pelt...but then again, some would've said the same about the sun and moon joining together.  She had to check it out.  After climbing out of the hollow and cautiously crossing the border, her journey to the clan's sacred meeting place had been slow going thanks to her injuries and deteriorating physical state; she hadn't traveled that far in ages.  Still, she kept going despite the exhaustion and rounded the hill before long, crouching in the bushes to conceal her presence.  She really had had no need to though; the battle raging below was gruesome, like nothing she had ever seen before.  Cats fought to kill, on both sides, and she watched as lives were taken left and right until only one remained; a brown tabby and white tom on the Great Rock, spasming and yowling like a lunatic.  She quickly realized though, that he was the Smokefang of this war.  He sent cats flying away from him as if they were nothing more than dead leaves, drifting upon the winds he controlled.  A wildfire raged around the leader's stone, an inferno consuming everything in the vicinity.  One after another, foolish warriors flung themselves at him until she almost grew bored of the sight, until finally, a terrible snapping sound rang around the clearing.  With the falling of one measly oak branch, the battle was over and done with, and the clans began to regroup.  It was now after the chaos had quelled, that she was able to make out faces.  She saw Brindlestar, her ashen pelt, and burnt body sending a shiver of satisfaction down the vengeful she-cat's spine.  As she watched her speak to the ThunderClan leader, who was similarly burnt and despicable looking, she felt a great power surge through her veins.  She doesn't even know I'm here...I could kill her right now...she's so weak...but so am I.  Indeed, her stinging wounds brought her out of that elated trance, reminding her of the logistics.  With a low growl, she had torn her gaze away from her target, instead catching sight of another.  Swiftstep...so confident aren't you?  Well, enjoy that time...I'm coming soon.  Mistpaw was there too; huh, I didn't know she could actually be competent at anything except whining...she's probably only here because of mommy's special treatment...pfft.

But then, she saw him.

His tri-colored back was facing her, but she could bear to wait and see him turn around.  He might not see her from here...but she could see him, and that fact made her weak in the knees.  Before any clan could barge through the undergrowth she was hiding in, and before she had to see the face of the tom she loved like a brother, the disgraced molly slipped away back into the shadows, returning to her solitary hiding place to await a returned dawn that glowed much too brightly compared to her shadowed heart.

In the weeks following the sun's rightful return to the sky, everything for the she-cat began to tumble downhill.  Despite her best, yet uninformed, efforts, the deepest puncture wound became infected, leaking a putrid rotting stench that made her stomach churn and heave.  Before long, the other two wounds were affected as well, and suddenly every little thing that had been fairly easy before became an uphill battle.  Walking, hunting, sleeping...she was exhausted.  She could feel unnatural heal coming off her in waves and conformed to laying in the gathering snow to relieve her fever and numb the burning of her wounds.  Every day that slipped by though, she knew she was growing weaker.  Her paws trembled with every step, and it became harder and harder to wake up in the morning.  A ring of darkness surrounded her gaze, both internally and externally, and her dreams became delirious and strange.  In the waking hours though, she still held on to her sanity - or what she would call sanity - and knew that the time had come.  She couldn't do this alone anymore; she needed to find a cat with herbal knowledge.  Obviously, she couldn't go to the clans; by now, Brindlestar must've spread the news of her betrayal, labeling her opposition as 'deranged' and 'dangerous', with orders to 'kill on sight'.  Hmm...good luck with that.  Her ego still lived, and it seemed to be the only thing driving her forward.  Still, in this moment of need, she would have to concede to asking for help in a place she hated with a passion; if the clans couldn't help her, maybe a cat in Twolegplace could.

So, it was with a heavy hesitance that the she-cat climbed out of her den for the last time, feeling a strange sentimentality towards the place that had sheltered her for so long, and began the long trek across clan land towards the stone roofs beyond.

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Is that...?  Finally!  Laurelsong felt a jolt of relief flood over her weak body as her nose finally picked up the scent she had been looking for; SkyClan.  They were the gateway into Twolegplace, and as much as she hated the very thought of stepping into such a wretched land, she was excited.  There she would surely find someone who could treat her wounds...hopefully.  No, she couldn't have doubts now, not after so long!  She was destined to live, to keep walking along the path of her dreams, to achieve her greatest ambitions!  The fire was alive...and soon, she would be as powerful as she had ever been.  Just a little farther, just one more territory to cross; SkyClan had always been weak rogues, they wouldn't bother her...

SNAP

The sound of a twig cracking, but not by her paw; a patrol was near.  A ThunderClan patrol.  Fox dung!  I was almost in the clear, I need to hurry!  Bad choice.  Gasping, the former WindClan cat felt her front paw snag against a branch concealed beneath the snow as she had tried to run, lurching her forward and sending the she-cat face-planting into a deep snowdrift.  "Ouch!"  Despite her best efforts, a deep hiss of pain escaped her jaws; her injured flank had crashed against something hard, and she could feel it bleeding again.  Oh for heaven's sake, why now?!  The nearby cats had heard; their pawsteps echoed across the snow-covered earth, coming nearer and nearer.  Thinking fast, Laurelsong ducked down into the powder; her pelt was far from white at the moment - she suddenly wished she had taken the effort to groom - but pale enough to maybe pass as a stained patch of snow.  Probably not...they would probably pick up on her scent.  She had been living in between two clans for a few moons, who knows what she smelled like?  Surely not WindClan.  Out of options, she lay still and waited.  Hopefully, they would pass, think her call was that of a far-off bird...I'm in no state to fight right now, please, just leave!  I'm not what you think I am!

I'm just another drifter, passing through.

Patrol leader. What a task. Beartooth had once found himself almost honor, as much as overwhelmed, by being tasked with such a duty at even a young age. The fact was that even in his own place of self-doubt, the clan leader and deputy seemed to trust him. And there were few warriors, which he was sure factored into it as well. Now, the bulky tom thought of none of these things as he led others through the clan's territory and towards the borders that they would mark for the thousandth time. It had become a joyless endeavor; this was something he did only out of a sense of duty combined with the unconscious desire to drive his own thoughts away if they would ever go. With a half-hearted flick of his tail, the warrior changed direction with the rest of the Thunderclan cats behind him.

Not long after, a stench caused his nose to twitch. While he had never been the best at tracking, there was an obvious hint of infectious smell underneath the strange cat scent. Likely a wounded rogue. His untreated wounds had held a similar scent, which was the only reason he was able to pick it apart. Without thinking about his, the fur along his shoulders bristled. An intruder. Days prior, he would have thrown himself at the cat without a second thought. But, realizing his claws had become unsheathed and dug into the frozen earth, he hesitated. Beartooth didn't sheath his claws out of the sensible knowledge that they might be of use but he also didn't charge straight for the direction of the rogue. With another flick of his tail, he signaled to the patrol once more before heading in the direction of the smell.

Snow slowed his pawsteps but as he broke through the sparse foliage. And there it was, the mangled, stained pelt of the rogue against the snow. Beartooth started at her, immediately taking up the necessary defensive position and growling out, "This is Thunderclan territory. You must leave. Now."

Being apprenticed just before the sting of Leafbare fell silently upon the forest wasn't ideal. Ferretpaw's wiry coat and short stature soon proved to be major disadvantages. It was near-futile to track scents through snowfall. But the tabby-and-white molly was hardy, and to her, each prey scrounged up for her elders and kits was another profession of love for her clanmates. It was better than sitting in camp, allowing the grueling gnaw of hunger and bitter cold eat away at her spirit. Her enthusiasm was still high, and her attempts to bring up the energy of the others on the patrol were commendable... if not in vain. It was quiet in the woods today, and Ferretpaw felt a note of tension between her companions. Not everybody could enjoy the cold.

When Beartooth stopped, she almost didn't register it. She froze in place just before accidentally trotting ahead of him. His fur began to rise, and Ferretpaw forgot quite quickly what she had last been thinking about. She smelled the cat, too. In all the aimless border patrols she had been on so far, none of them had ended in conflict. Panic briefly rose in her chest, and her tail lashed as she quickly forced it down. She had to forget her fear. The scent was rancid, and a sickly cat wouldn't try to attack. Or would they? She swallowed and managed a glance at the other two apprentices, trying to gauge their emotions. As Beartooth gave the signal, she let her expression harden.

She nearly gagged when she saw the awful state of the rogue they had come upon. Deep inside her, she felt... pity. She almost took the poor creature for a bundle of sticks under a patchy pelt. Ferretpaw hesitated before looking to Beartooth, with his claws on defense and his strong, capable voice. She mimicked his menacing look. Excusing any rogue, no matter how decrepit looking, was dangerous to the clan and the prey in it. Still...

"Who are you?" she meekly blurted out. She took in a sharp breath and tried to maintain her stature.

Thistlepaw's pelt bristled with excitement as he followed right behind Beartooth. This was the bulky apprentice's first patrol without his mentor and he felt like he had a lot to prove, as he was already old enough to become a warrior. He was expecting his ceremony to happen any day now.

His excitement grew even further when he caught scent of an intruder. The tabby tom had to force himself not to immediately launch his body onto the foreign she-cat's. Baring his teeth, Thistlepaw puffed his fur out, making his already big build seem even larger.

Falconpaw stood beside Thistlepaw, eyeing the intruder warily whilst also keeping one on the tom.”Not yet.” she whispered to the tom she had assisted in raising since his kithood. Glowering at the intruder with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, though not a hint of fear despite her light frame, built more for speed than power. Tail flicking, she smiled with appreciation at the eldest cat on the patrol and his technique for handling the situation. Level-headed, coming off as confident but not aggressive, I could use that. Falconpaw held her ground, waiting for either Beartooth or the intruder to make the first move.

The gig was up less than a few heartbeats later, and with a low grumble of a sigh Laurelsong backed out of the snowdrift, white flakes clinging to her bent whiskers and showered over her ragged pelt.  She didn't dream of shaking it off at the moment, that would cause more pain than she could hold in, and the last thing she wanted to do was show weakness to this group of powerful ThunderClanners - more weakness than needed anyway.  Standing defensively to the side, her chartreuse eyes landed upon the brown tabby pelt of the patrol's leader, and seemingly the only warrior; ah, one of those no-nonsense, overly stoic types...this should be easy.  A smug smile transforming her dilapidated features, the ticked tabby she-cat titled her head to the side and studied the group, no sign of fear upon her angled face.  "I'm quite aware of that, seven-claws, no need to spell it out for me."  

A small voice piped up suddenly, one of the apprentices; her eyes fell upon a slender tabby and white she-cat, curiosity written clearly upon her face.  Pfft, ThunderClan.  What, is she going to invite me to join her for a nice meal of mouse and spring water before taking me back to 'ol Papa Leopardstar for a shiny new warrior name?  They should really train their kits to be more cautious, really!  Then again, what else can you expect from a rogue clan?  Her smile widened a bit, though that only made her look more untrustworthy.  "I'm no one kit, just a stranger of no consequence, passing through.  Trust me, if there was another way across this StarClan-forsaken forest I would take it-..."

Oh no

As the consequences of what she had just said sunk in, a shadow grew over her formerly confident face, yet she stood her ground.  Running at this point would only create more suspicion...but it was time to leave.  "Well, it's been nice chatting with you all, but I have places to be."  With a forcibly casual flick of her sleek tail, the pale-pelted she-cat whipped around with a wince and began to pad across the clearing, yearning to break into a run despite her muscles protesting.  I just have to cross SkyClan...then, I'll be home free...just a little farther...  Her legs though, were only growing weaker...

Thistlepaw help back a sigh a disappointment. He had really been hoping for a fight. Standing still for a few moments, he watched as the she-cat struggled walking even a few tail lengths. The fluffy apprentice padded closer to Beartooth. "Should we escort her?" He murmured to the older tom.

Ferretpaw's scruff bristled, affronted by the insult from a mange-ridden rogue. She felt bad for the poor thing, truly, who must have been delirious with hunger and illness. She looked to Thistlepaw, figuring he had a point. It wasn't like she was any harm in her weak state. Compassion drove her to take a few more steps forward before a realization smacked her across the face. She sprinted in front of her, stopping the weak she-cat in her tracks.

"How do you know what StarClan is, rogue?"

Seven-claws. The words cut through the tom, likely as she intended and for a moment, Beartooth found himself hesitating. It was when Thistlepaw spoke that Beartooth had the sense to lope after the she-cat. Due to her condition, the tom easily outpaced her and stopped in her pathway. Searching for the right way to handle this situation stopped the warrior in his tracks for a moment before Ferretpaw called attention to what the supposed rogue had said. This had been a clan cat. Hints of pity seized his chest for a moment at the realization. It was awful to see a clan cat in such a state, even if they were from another clan. But, if she was, the only way it could be so was from her own fault. Unless one of the clans had begun practicing unusual cruelties.

After a pause, Beartooth's gravelly voice cut through the air as he stared down at her with a hardened gaze, one that reflected the pity he felt underneath it, "If this was once a clan cat, she is no more. Get out of here, stranger. We will escort you to the border and make sure you leave. Then you are Skyclan's to deal with as they see fit. Next time, trespassing will not be taken so lightly." It was the most he had managed to say in quite some time and it came out dry. A promise, not really a threat. After all, it was his duty to keep strange cats off their territory, regardless of their nature. Any other circumstance, Beartooth might have considered bringing her to Thunderclan camp but Leopardstar's compassion could only stretch so thin and her hostility showed lack of desire for any aid. With a flick of his tail, the tom signaled to the apprentices to walk on either side while he took up the rear in case she tried anything. He could not wait until they reached the border.

Laurelsong halted abruptly, issuing a pained wince to spread across her dirty face as the she-cat's strained muscles tensed.  The naive apprentice's bold words rang in her delirious ears, and the ticked tabby molly couldn't hold back a snarl.  Ohh...if they only knew!  If they knew...this lowly drifter, soon to be leader, the rightful leader of WindClan!  Someday, my 'allies' will grovel at my paws like the weak scum they are...someday...  Seven-Claws had joined her, his annoyingly stoic air only fanning the flames of her innermost frustrations.  Now two strong cats stood in her way, intentions clear; she would not be able to go alone, even if she tried.  "Fiiiine then, geez, don't you bush-dwellers have nothing better to do than follow me around?  Didn't even wanna be here in the first place..."  Her strong facade of defiance still able to hold, she fell into step beside the group as they led the way to the border, he vision and legs growing more and more wavy...

At last, the musky scent of SkyClan tinged the air, and Laurelsong strode ahead of the patrol as they stopped, letting her pass.  She was exhausted, chest heaving from the effort it took to merely move at this point.  Her flank burned like sparks flared beneath her skin, and it took all her willpower not to lay down upon the leaf-mold and fall into a deep, deep sleep...but she kept going.  This was her birthright, to live!  To conquer, to take what was hers...to finally win this rigged game.  Turning one chartreuse eye back to glower demeaningly at the ThunderClan cats, all she could manage was a haughty wave of her tattered tail before crossing the border and slipping into the bracken, out of sight.  Now, I just need to find Twolegplace...victory is near.