Blood for Blood [closed]

Tip tip tip tip tip.

The silence of the night was deafening. Around him, a few crickets chirped... or were they frogs? There were so many frogs here. He hated the way they sounded. Always croaking and chirping like they were full of gas. Wretched, slimy things. They were a deserving prey for ShadowClan. They must have cursed their ancestors to have been saddled with so many of them. Real cats, strong and noble ones, ate mice. It was respectable hunting. He would find no such prey here.

Unfortunately, after wandering SkyClan's borders in mortal peril for a day and a half, he could see no conceivable way through except this one. He had gotten himself lost. ShadowClan's territory, just a leap over the thunderpath, was the only one he knew well enough to navigate out. Once through, he could go back to the barn and finally meet with his sister and brother again. They could make a plan. They could talk about what they discovered, and Galloway could warn them that Twolegplace was only good for a day's outing, and not for a permanent home base. There was nothing to eat, though the cats were good fun.

He could hear the anxious pants of his breath, try as he may to stifle them. Gallowat tried to unclench his jaw, and in that action his paws pressed on a little quicker. It seemed that the stress of returning to this place had to manifest somewhere. When he relaxed one part, another picked back up. And his heart kept drumming a very hasty pace down the side of the thunderpath. It would almost be better to travel by daylight, at least on this side of the forest.

Tiptiptiptiptip.

He broke into a trot. The dead, tall grass tapered out, and Galloway was exposed, out in the open. He was not keen on staying there.

A soft crunch broke the thick air to his left, and Galloway stopped. In a game of fight-or-flight, he was not the cowardly type. He was found, and there was no undoing that. You could not run with eyes upon you. The rogue sucked in a hard breath, masking his fear with a layer of concentration. His brow set, and he extended his claws. ShadowClan was the brutal type of fighter. Galloway began sidestepping away from the side of the thunderpath. That was no place to roll in the dirt. Would they recognize him? He was no longer a spritely kitten. He was grown, his voice deep and fur thick. The coloration of his pelt was striking, but not so unordinary that it gave him away.

Quieting his thoughts, he finally spoke out into the chasm where he assumed the sound had come from. "You're pretty quiet, but not quiet enough," he murmured. "Caught me. I'm intruding. You gonna do something about it, or are you gonna look away so I can cruise on across the border and make it Thunderclan's problem?"

Rosethorn, too, had changed, and not just in name. Where there used to be tiny, kitten fluff, muscles now coursed through her. She held herself high, a lot more confident than the kit just looking for approval. Something she would have never gotten no matter what she had done. And now she stood face to face with a rogue. One that bore a striking resemblance to her brother. And, from what she had seen, her father. But her father was dead, this she knew, and as much as she might hope he would come back, Galloway had left. And she could not act on a mere hope. This had to be another cat.

"You seem to know a bit about the Clans. As for what I do, that depends on what you do. So tell me, stranger, who are you, and what is it you want? Since you clearly know exactly what you are doing, I assume you have a reason for being here. I do hope it is a good one, for your sake."

She unsheathed her claws, amber eyes narrowed. If anything, this cat's resemblance to her family only wanted to make her want to get rid of him more. She was finding peace in ShadowClan. And here this stranger was, bringing back everything that plagued her. Why couldn't she just let go?

Galloway's eat twitched, aggravated. The uppity way this cat talked revealed all he could ever hope to know about her. His brief adventure in SkyClan had given him quite a bit of hope. The cat he met there was kind, and amused by the way he spoke. At the very least, she feigned interest. She did not judge his severely bedraggled appearance, and did not mock him with obvious questions. She warned him of her clanmates, who were less inviting that herself. He didn't realize they were so holier-than-thou.

He could only barely make out the ShadowClan cat's face in the dark, but he knew the look. They all had that look. When he was small and frightened, they looked down upon him like that. Shame, and rejection. They hated him. He was so small. He remembered the way they cast the Asylum out, and how they didn't have the slightest care for him, a kitten with whom they lived for moons, to make sure Tavora did not take them where they did not want to go. They just let her take them. And they kept Faizah... for their own vanity. For their own self-righteousness. Because she was a traitor, and they were so treacherous. They killed Eris. Wasn't murder against their Code?

Galloway snarled. He hated this stupid place, and this stupid frogbreathed mongrel.

"Considering I'm so close to the thunderpath anyway, maybe you should just leave me the dung alone," he hissed. "I'm not interested in all your preachy nonsense. Your territory claim means nothing to me, or your ancestors. What kind of mighty legionary talks to an intruder, anyway? Too scared to ambush me like a real warrior?"

Galloway shook his head, wheezing with bitter laughter. "I only heard one set of paws. I know you're by yourself. Go run home to your mama, froggy. You're out of your depth."