The Belly Of The Beast

Snowflakes began to fall, their pace increasing as the sky grew lighter. They were rushing now, falling more sloppily in an effort to get to their places before the light of day shone on the half-finished winter scene.
The trees sighed in a soft sort of way as drifts of snow settled on their tired, black branches, embracing them in the silence just before a storm. Overhead, the sky was blushing pink and gold as faint blotches of clouds tinged purple gathered on the horizon. The wind drifted drowsily through the forest, wending it's way through the trees. It brought with it a sharp, chilling scent, carried from someplace nearby. Every cat heard it, paused to prick their ears, twitch their whiskers, and press on with renewed speed. Those who knew heeded the warning and moved towards shelter and warmth while they still had the strength to do so.
The promise of a snowstorm, of deafening silence and blinding white. Choking snowflakes and dying prey.
It was Leafbare.
It was sunrise.

---

Mintwhisker padded through the silent forest, heading towards Fourtrees. At the last gathering, the taupe she-cat had spotted a promising patch of herbs just outside the clearing. Hopefully, she'd be able to get to the delicate plants before the snow and ice really set in.
The short-furred she-cat shivered, glancing upwards at the sky. She could see clouds gathering. Soon, the entire forest would be shrouded in deep snow. That murky-eyed she-cat pressed on, nearly breaking into a run. She skidded to a stop at Fourtrees, shock and surprise evident in her expression as she saw several cats- all from different clans -had already gathered there.
"What are you doing here?"

---

Meanwhile, across the forest, a small, thick-furred apprentice leaped from one drift to another. He let out a gasp every time he disappeared into the snow, only to emerge moments later with a sharp, reedy laugh. Occasionally, the little tom lapsed into a violent coughing fit. During this time he was unable to move and remained hunched over while his narrow chest heaved as he struggled to clear his throat. These fits always ended though, and the young tabby tom promptly resumed his game.
Eventually, through sheer luck and random chance, the small, sickly apprentice leaped directly into Fourtrees. By leaped, of course, I mean that the little Thunderclanner misjudged his jump, and ended up sliding head-first down the slope that lead to the clearing. He rose from the snow, spluttering, coughing, and laughing. For a while he was unable to regain his breath and gasped, his eyes wide and his mouth tilted towards the sky. Eventually, though, he regained his composure and took the time to look around.
"Gah!" He squeaked, his thick pelt rising along his spine. He wasn't alone, like he previously thought. "Who are you?"

Another small ThunderClan apprentice had followed the first, concerned for his safety and health as much as she was curious about where he was going. She kept her distance behind him most of the way, knowing that her fluffy pitch-black pelt stuck out in the snow. "Lynxpaw!" she exclaimed as he slid into the clearing below, bounding down after her brother. He was coughing, still, but he was laughing too, so she turned her attention elsewhere for the moment (and he had thought to lecture her about safety, at any point!). And then she saw the rest of them, and opened her mouth to speak: "Who're you?" She was curious, but not hostile.

~

Elsewhere, a ShadowClan apprentice nudged her sister awake, and whispered a plan: their first Gathering was approaching, but it had yet to arrive, and she wanted to know what Fourtrees looked like. She was curious by nature, after all, and adventure called to her. Once she had won her sister over enough for her to follow, she took off despite the early-morning chill.

She didn't exactly know what Fourtrees looked like, to be completely honest, but she knew there were four trees and a rock. So, once she saw the large rock, she was pretty sure she'd found it. "This is it!" she said, trying to keep quiet just in case they could still be caught, but a second glance over the space revealed that they were not alone. Her fur stood on edge, and she was ready for a fight if it came, doing her best to hide Silentpaw from the other cats. "Is this what a Gathering looks like?" She'd expected more cats, but this was fine too, she supposed.

His first unsuccessful hunt of Leafbare. Aspenpaw was undeterred by the snowdrifts and flurries that caused every wise rabbit to hide in their warrens. His thin stomach growled and churned enough to make him sick. Being a small apprentice that was untouched by war and famine thus far, he expected a certain outcome from every hunting expedition. He recalled with joy the heat in his ears when his mentor applauded the scrappy hare Aspenpaw had chased for an entire afternoon. It was his first prey. Whether it was his youthful folly or incredible arrogance, or a combination of the two, something drove him forward. He was not going back to camp empty-handed.

Wind. The cutting smell of a hungry creature. Aspenpaw lifted his gaze. It couldn't be, but there it was: a fat, plump rabbit, in the middle of Leafbare. The tom stepped lightly for a few pawsteps, then gave chase. She's quick for such a fat thing, he thought as he sprinted gallantly across the frozen moor. Too fast indeed. Even as the rabbit veered farther and farther out of WindClan territory, Aspenpaw would not cease. He had something to prove, something to show for his training, and if he could just catch up to the stupid thing-

The rabbit ducked under a thicket of brambles into a tunnel. Aspenpaw yowled and skidded as he attempted to stop his tumble into the tangle of thorns. He rolled down a hill, his long legs flailing for the ground, until he came to a stop. He looked up and saw tall, strong oak trees. Was this... Fourtrees? Strange scents were all around him. Suddenly, he realized the presence of a few other cats, all of whom had just watched his embarrassing little accident.

He coughed. "I'm Aspenpaw of WindClan," the apprentice announced as toughly as he could muster to the apprentices who had asked. "Why are you at Fourtrees before a gathering?"

Eaglepaw stepped closer to Mintwhisker as he spotted the other cats, his fur rising slightly. These cats seemed friendly, but he had volunteered to come with Mintwhisker as her protector and companion, and it was his job to help defend against any attacks if things got nasty. He stood in silence next to the medicine cat as he watched the other cats introduce themselves. Supposedly, Fourtrees was a safe place and neutral territory, but that didn’t mean he was going to let his guard down.

Minkpaw trudged through the snow, every paw step sinking with a faint crunch and leaving behind a trail of small holes that slowly filled in behind him. A cold wind blew white flakes into his downturned head, and he hunched even further, letting his tail drag over the ground. The wind seemed to be getting stronger, and the snowflakes stinging his pelt weren't as gentle as before. I'll need to go back soon.... He thought, gritting his teeth and pushing through another howling gust that rattled the reeds around him. This was such a 'great' idea. Just go hunt along the river, bring something back, and hope the Clan accepts it out of the goodness of their pure-blooded hearts. Great work, genius. Ignoring the sarcastic thought, he broke through another snow-laden clump of reeds, shouldering through to clearer snow that didn't have any blades of grass poking out. He shook his pelt off, pausing for a moment to catch his breath as he looked up at his destination.

Only to find the river frozen over.

Tail drooping behind him until it hit the snow with a brief wave of cold, his confused gaze took in the solid sheet of white that hid what had only been a dark grey dip covered with white cracks and a few occasional holes a few sunrises ago. Wha-? But it wasn't this bad before! Suddenly anxious, he leapt forwards in a flurry of snow to where he assumed the edge of the river was, digging his paws in and shoving backwards. Despite the freezing cold biting between his toes, he continued desperately shovelling white flakes behind him. It has to be here! If we can't get through to the water we'll starve! As sudden as his panic had started, it was abruptly cut off as his paw hit something. Hard. He let out a grunt as pain spiked through his paw, suddenly remembering that digging haphazardly with your claws out wasn't really that great an idea; unless you wanted to tear one off, anyway. As the pain faded, he gingerly put some weight on his numb foot, peering down into the hole he'd just dug.

It didn't look good. If him bashing his paw straight into it hadn't even cracked the surface, it wouldn't exactly be easy to break it, especially with the awkward position he'd be in; standing on top of the snow while reaching down into a hole. Not to mention having to dig it out every few heartbeats. Cautiously, he prodded it with his other paw, testing for any bits that moved slightly under it. It's as hard as rocks.... Grimacing, he pulled it back, gazing into the hole for a moment as he tried to think. If this part of the river's frozen solid and snowed over, will the rest be any different? He frowned, squinting through the swirling snow around him in the direction of the twoleg bridge. Would the ice under there be better? He hesitated, imagining the narrow strip of dirt that might be there. If you fall in who'll get you out? You'll go straight under the ice and drown. He forced the thought off before he could add like a rogue to the end of it. A shiver moved through his pelt as another gust of wind flattened his fur to his sides, and he looked up towards the horizon, where a stand of tall trees towered above the scrawny bushes near him.

Fourtrees. Where the gathering took place every full moon.

A sudden idea lit up his eyes, and he began slogging through the snow straight over the frozen river. He'd been to his first gathering just a quarter moon or so ago, and the clearing there had been more sheltered than RiverClan's territory was, with only a light layer of snow dusting the ground. I bet there'll be prey there, if it's more sheltered than here.... The cold wind blustering against his face didn't bother him as much as he shoved his way through the deep snow piled up on the other side of the river.

Then he was through, a bunch of bushes sheltering him from the worst of the wind. The snow was significantly thinner here, and he could move at an easy lope as he made his way up the incline. Moments of alternating loping and slogging through deeper patches passed by in an almost-blur as he doggedly made his way into the thick bushes surrounding Fourtrees, his pelt already tingling in anticipation of finding something to bring back to his hungry Clan. A grin began to stretch across his muzzle, and his paws seemed to almost skim across the remaining distance to the clearing.

Slowing down so that he hopefully wouldn't scare anything in the undergrowth off, he stalked forwards, opening his mouth to taste the air and catch any scents of prey. Huh? He frowned as his tongue caught not the scent of prey, but the scent of a bunch of cats. He cast his mind back a bit, trying to remember when he'd last seen the moon. It can't be the gathering already. Besides, it's sunrise, not midnight. He crept forwards cautiously until he reached the edge of the bushes around the clearing below, peering down to see a group of six - no, seven - cats in the large space below the rock where the leaders gathered at gatherings. Huh, this is interesting. He hesitated for only a moment, curiosity eventually overcoming him.

Padding into the clearing, he made sure his back was relaxed and none of his fur was bristling even slightly. If they all attack me I'll lose. His paws moved almost silently over the fluffy white snow, and the snowflakes swirling through the air drifted down rather than stinging into fur and flesh. He managed to move down into the clearing just in time to hear one of the other cats - one that smelled like ShadowClan - ask a question he probably hadn't been meant to hear. Giving her a friendly grin, he meowed, "If this was a gathering, it would be a tiny one."

His curious gaze panned over the rest of the cats there, green eyes slightly wary despite the smile on his face, a wariness accentuated by his relaxed but subtly tense posture. "Is this some kind of secret gathering?" Eyes alighting on an older cat who looked like she might be in charge, he half-directed the question at her.

(this... ended up really long ><)

"What do we have here?"
Before the gathering of cats had time to react, several Twolegs burst out of the undergrowth. Several of them were carrying nets of various sizes.
"Run!" Mintwhisker immediately dropped her herb supply, scrambling for cover in the bushes. "Don't just stand there!"

It was too late. One by one each apprentice was caught. First in a net, where the taut lines cut into their skin, and then in a cage with a foreign, sickly scent. All Mintwhisker could do was tremble in the bushes, watching as Eaglepaw and the other apprentices were carried away.

The clearing was quiet.
Minthwisker turned, paying no attention to the scattered herbs on the ground. She ran, her paws drumming in rhythm with her heart as she leaped over fallen logs and skirted around deeper snowdrifts. Behind her, the storm had begun. Eventually, the air would be thick with snowflakes. They wouldn't have a chance of finding them then.

---

"Batpaw!" The small apprentice yelped, turning to watch as his sister was lifted into the air by her scruff. "Wait!" All around him, the silent clearing had erupted into chaos. Some apprentices were caught in strange devices, long sticks with some sort of cobweb at the end, stronger than any stone. Others, like his sister, were grabbed right out of the snow. "Batpaw! Where are you?"
Sudden panic gripped the young tom. He couldn't lose his sister- not after everything they'd gone through. He had to protect her. He had learned from the very start that if he didn't, nobody would.
A sudden coughing fit wracked his body. Not now! He ran about, gasping for air as adrenaline pumped through his veins. "I'm... going... to find you... don't... worry!" He choked, desperately dodging paws and cobwebs.
Suddenly he felt immense pressure on his neck. Instinctively he curled his hind legs and lowered his head as he was lifted by the fur on his neck. He swung helplessly through the air, only to find himself shoved in a cage. He was alone, and Batpaw was nowhere to be found.


Part 2 <- Roll the dice during your first post here!