Shortest Straw Has Been Pulled For You [SOLO]

Loud noise was what finally roused her from sleep, blinking blearily as she lifted her head from the weird, colorful skypelt-like thing she was resting on, ears immediately flattening on instinct. Never had her surroundings been so different from the forest, or even the abandoned, old twolegplace. Strange, bright lights shined from above, though the sky was blocked by the roof of whatever twoleg den she was in. Large rectangles of what was probably the same strange clear ice on some of the twoleg nests let her see the outside world, though what she could make out was still dark. Not quite morning yet, or was it nighttime? She’d lost track, the days blending into one another as the lights from above disoriented her.

A low, rumbling growl started in Beechfang's chest as the twoleg stepped into the room, making a crooning noise as she walked from enclosure to enclosure. Cages, one of the kittypets in an adjacent one had called them, thin, twisted strands of not-vines separating the two. They had a name too, of course, though Beechfang hadn't cared to remember it. She'd been groggy at the time, only just waking up with a sense of panic and a painful tug in her abdomen when she tried to move. Strangely, her left ear also stung. When she'd lifted a paw to inspect it, she had found the tip cut in a disconcertingly smooth line, and the pain that tugged at her abdomen with the motion had ensured she hadn't inspected it for more than a moment.

The cutters, the kittypet had explained simply, and she'd needed no further explanation that the kittypet had tried to give her than that. He’d said something about healing, and all the former medicine cat could do was sneer at him in disgust. She didn’t need healing, except for what they had done to her. They were fabled in the clans, feared and despised in equal measure, their victims - often kittypets - looked upon with disdain and scorn. And it meant more than that, too. Anger burned in her chest at even the idea of being stuck here, of potentially never seeing her family again. Would the twolegs force her into being a kittypet? Would they see no use for the wild, aggressive she-cat? The kittypet in question had seemed quite confused at her dismay, and dowanright horrified when she had taken skin off of the first twoleg that had attempted to reach through the bars of her cage.

Needless to say, the former Skyclanner was not happy with her predicament. Not that she ever was, but this was different. If she ever saw Cheddar again, she was going to kill him. Slowly. Joyously.

The twoleg that was making the rounds today wasn’t the same one she had bitten on her way into this foul prison, but that didn’t bother Beechfang. This one would learn soon enough. Most of the other cats in the odd, too-bright space seemed to not mind her opening their doors and messing about with their water and the disgusting, miserable brown pellets that passed as food. Some even allowed her to reach out an ugly, misshapen paw to touch them, for what reason the former Skyclanner simply could not fathom. Beechfang’s claws itched to be on the forest floor, hunting and fending for herself, not having some twoleg mongrel provide things for her while keeping her locked in here. It had been several days and the groggy feeling and pain had lessened, though Beechfang knew she wasn’t at 100% either. The small cage didn’t offer much room for a larger cat like herself, even if she hadn’t been recovering from whatever it was that the twolegs had done to her.

---

The vet technician made her way through the rounds of feeding, humming softly as she refilled the food and water dishes and emptied out the litter trays. There were only a handful of cats in for treatment, most newly-adopted rescues that had been spayed or neutered. Most were friendly enough, allowing her to briefly pet the top of their heads with small purrs. She spent a few minutes with each of them, doing her best to quell the anxiety that some of them clearly had. Unfamiliar environments and being away from their owners would do that.

The newest intake had been picked up off the streets, a large silvery tabby. Were it not for the harsh life of a feral cat on the streets, the vet technician thought, she would’ve been quite pretty. She probably had some Maine Coon in her, or one of the other large, fluffy breeds, but a sizable portion of that long, flowing fur was gone. Whatever animal had attacked her, it was a wonder she’d come in at all. The good Samaritan who had found the hissing, spitting cat had been just as surprised by her state.

A feral couldn’t have been any more obvious by the way she’d scratched and bit during her intake. She was no kitten, and the likely-Maine Coon seemed mature enough. Perhaps around 4 or 5 years old, but that was as good as their guesses were going to get. She had helped get her up to date on all her shots, checked for a microchip – none, but the expectation had been slim – and they’d put her in a cage at the end of the line. A space had been left between hers and those of the other cats, just in case. She was aggressive enough to humans, and the scars that riddled the poor girl’s body were indications that she’d fight other cats, too. Some of them at least, looked like the claw marks a cat would make. Others... The vet technician wasn’t sure. The face and single eye that tracked her progress, glaring at her even now? Burns, she thought. If she’d had any interaction with other humans, it probably hadn’t been a good one. The vet technician couldn’t blame her, she didn’t like many of her own kind either.

The strange web of scarring that curled from the top of her neck, down her shoulder to one front paw, now... It almost looked like the scars that people who were struck by lightning were said to have. But that would’ve been impossible. No way would a cat, even a large, muscular one like this one, survive such a thing.

It had been nearly a week after her spay, and it was clear she’d been pregnant before. The vet technician hated the thought. There would be no more chance of that happening now, at least, and perhaps the procedure would make her calmer. She’d been ear-tipped, but the vet technician didn’t like the idea of just releasing her back to the streets. She was much too wild for a home with children or other pets, but perhaps if a single person had enough patience... Some of her coworkers seemed doubtful anyone would. Most of them had several cats of their own at home, and some children as well. The silver tabby simply wouldn’t be suited for them to foster. The vet technician herself had an empty apartment, her faithful companion of 16 years finally crossing the rainbow bridge in his sleep. She hadn’t yet gotten rid of the dog bed or his seldom-used toys, and they weren’t meant for a cat, but they were there. Perhaps she would take on the cat while she finished out her recovery. It would be better than being cooped up in a cage all day, surely.

It didn’t take long till she’d finished her rounds with the other cats, and the vet technician approached the cage holding the scarred tabby. Humming softly, she reached out a gloved hand... Only to instinctively withdraw as claws flashed, making to get a little bit through the bars of the cage. Thankfully her paws themselves were too large to fit through the small gaps in the mesh. She tsked quietly at herself. The clothing she wore was protective enough, and besides, the cat couldn’t have reached her with the cage in between them. Bites and scratches were simply part of the job for the vet technician, and one 20-something-pound cat was far less intimidating than some of the large dogs she’d been tasked with dealing with in the past.

All this one needed was a bit of TLC, she’d come around. If not to a warm and friendly lap cat, to a less aggressive cat, the vet tech hoped. A calm, stable home would be kinder to her than the streets had been.

---

Beechfang sliced at the air, frustration bubbling at her paw only brushed the weird material of the cage, claws meeting nothing but empty air as she glared up at the twoleg. The fur on the top of the she-twoleg's head was pale, and her eyes were blue. Almost like a certain gold and silvery-furred, blue-eyed piece of foxdung she had the displeasure of knowing. All twolegs were evil, but this one surely must’ve been worse than the rest. The twoleg smiled at her – to Beechfang, the way she bared her teeth but continued her soft crooning was mocking and offensive. She didn’t quite detect aggression in her body language, but she didn’t trust just because it wasn’t there that the twoleg didn’t have ill intentions. Dawnhawk had been good at hiding his true intentions from others too, after all.

It would be just her luck to be haunted by a specter in the guise of a twoleg. He’d changed his appearance once already, a paranoid voice whispered in the back of her mind, and he was only more powerful in death. Beechfang spat, hackles lifting.

She stood there for several long moment while Beechfang glared and hissed, slowly lifting a paw towards the mechanism that opened her cage. Beechfang had tried to get her claws or fangs around it, but had failed. Baring her teeth, she shrunk back as the twoleg kept her paw there, fur lifting and tail lashing. The door would be opened, and she would have no time or room to dart past her twoleg captor. Even if Beechfang did, she didn’t know her way around this area at all. Her memories of what lay behind the large, now-closed entrance the twoleg had used to enter the room were hazy, foggy.

For now, her only hope was to stay put. If the twolegs ever brought her outside... She would have a chance, eventually. Some of the other kittypets had talked about going home before, that meant they didn’t stay here for the rest of their miserable days. Of course, that was for the kittypets, not some random cat pulled unwillingly from the streets...

A shiver ran down her spine as she stared up at the twoleg. The twoleg made some sort of noise, something that might’ve been meant to be soothing, but did nothing to soothe Beechfang’s sense of dread. One weird, furless, skypelt-covered paw reached for the cage entrance again. The twoleg was quick about filling the containers of food and water, while the she-cat tried to make herself as small as possible, back pressed against the cool bars of the cage.

The twoleg reached out a paw towards her, and Beechfang let out another hiss. The twoleg was still making noise, though Beechfang couldn’t have cared less if they were words or if her tone was soothing. There was no room for her to possibly escape the stupid twoleg in her current confines, and this particular one didn’t seem too concerned by her hostility. Rather unfortunate, for the twoleg. And there were no bars between that ugly, misshapen paw and Beechfang’s claws, now.

All Beechfang’s claws caught however, was the strange material of the skypelt that covered the twoleg’s hand. The material was strangely smooth, and what looked like the same material covered most of the rest of her body, bright, ugly blue contrasting with the twoleg’s equally ugly, pale face.

The twoleg withdrew her paw finally, Beechfang chasing it from the confines of her cage with more unsheathed claws, though she kept as much of her body as far from the twoleg as she could. Not that it would matter much if the twoleg decided she really wanted to grab her. Beechfang was... far sorer than she would ever admit to, the pain in her abdomen renewing itself with every wasted movement.

The twoleg didn’t seem to be overly concerned with the unsheathed claws, regarding Beechfang and speaking in soft, hushed tones. Somehow, seeming unbothered was more unnerving than her paws reaching for Beechfang was. Most of the other twolegs hadn’t wanted to stick around, and were often keen to leave her alone pretty quickly when they had done what they were there to do.

So why wasn’t this one leaving like the others? Rushing off to do... whatever it was that twolegs did? Beechfang continued to glare and growl, tail lashing. The twoleg continued making soft noises and didn’t move. Beechfang didn’t buy the non-threatening act for even a second. No, no she didn’t. Twolegs would always be a threat and this one was no different. Her heart hammered in her chest, so loud she was sure the twoleg could hear it.

She’d been ready to fight twolegs once, when they had been seen on the territory when she still been Beechpaw – the first time. Back then, she hadn’t truly understood what they were capable of, and had only strived to follow in the pawsteps of her father as one of the greatest fighters Skyclan had ever seen.

What fools they had both been.

How easily she’d been caught and caged, how little they cared about her claws and fangs. She recognized the threat of the twolegs now, surely Bloodstrike must’ve too, after only returning from his own capture not too long ago. Now it was she who was captured, and a naïve, stupid kittypet half the reason why. That’s what she got for letting her guard down, even momentarily. Had Cheddar known what he was doing? Beechfang didn’t think so, but... It was entirely possible, she conceded. And the other kittypets here were no better. She was on her own, with no chance of help or of escaping, for the moment.

---

The vet technician sighed quietly to herself, regarding the scared, confused stray in front of her. Poor thing clearly hadn’t had a good time in life, and being stuck in a cage all day was clearly just stressing her out more.

“I’ll get you out of here soon, don’t worry. You’ll feel better in an actual home.” She murmured, slowly reaching out a hand again. The tabby didn’t bite or claw, though the vet technician could tell she wanted to, and saw the way her claws dug into the blanket. It even had a few holes already, though the vets had taken the time to clip her long nails to a more reasonable length a couple days ago. Perhaps once she got the cat home a nice scratching post would help. Failing that, claw caps. Declawing her was out of the question, in the vet technician’s eyes, it was inhumane and only likely to cause further behavioral issues.

Giving the silvery tabby one more pat (and earning another hiss and a look fit to kill in the process), the vet technician closed the cage door once more and turned. There was more work to do today, but she’d find the time to talk with her supervisor about the tabby later.

---

Beechfang yowled, pawing at the entrance of the boxy crate she’d been unceremoniously shoved into as it swayed slightly with the twoleg’s steps – just enough to be uncomfortable, because it wasn’t uncomfortable enough being under the paws of the filthy creature. The twoleg had seemed downright smug, clearly pleased with herself as she’d approached Beechfang earlier in the day. She’d been hauled from one cage to another, growling and flexing her claws all the while. The twoleg had truly been sent from the dark forest, it seemed, having absolutely no concern at all for the very angry she-cat. As if she knew she wouldn’t be harmed too severely no matter what Beechfang might’ve tried. Not that Beechfang would ever admit that this was unfortunately likely to be true; the twoleg was simply too large a foe and had much too easy of a time handling her. Worst of all, there was something almost pitying in the way the twoleg looked at her, as if Beechfang were some lost kit in need of their help.

They were outside, actually outside. And the twoleg wasn’t letting her out of the carrier. All she wanted was to run, to get away from the twoleg now that she could feel the crisp leaf-fall air on her face through the carrier’s door and the little slats that allowed light to shine through the sides of the stars-forsaken contraption. Beechfang pawed at the barrier keeping her confined, desperate to get away from the twoleg, to find her way into the maze of twolegplace and disappear. Even under her weight, it didn’t budge as the twoleg kept walking.

Watching the ground move below her without being the one to take those steps herself was... Not fun, Beechfang was quickly starting to realize. She wanted – no, needed, out. Only, the twoleg wasn’t listening to her yowls. She kept walking, turning a corner. A monster stood in front of them, waiting, hard pelt gleaming bright red in the sunlight, baleful bright gaze seemingly fixed on the two. Beechfang’s back arched, and she spat. Not that it would do much to hide the way her paws trembled.

The monster made no move as the twoleg circled to the side of it. Suddenly the monster’s side was opening, revealing a strange, smelly interior. Beechfang was placed inside of it, and the monster slammed shut with a loud bang. She flinched at the noise, hunching down, fur lifted as she tried to track where the twoleg had gone. She was moving in front of it again, and Beechfang watched. Was she going to be left here, in the belly of the monster?

The monster opened on the other side, and suddenly the twoleg was back. A small, shiny object was in her hand, which was... pressed into part of the monster. Strange, and something Beechfang couldn’t ever hope to comprehend, she was sure. Not that it mattered, as the sudden, loud growl of the monster coming awake filled her ears. Then they were moving, the gray platform she’d been placed on vibrating beneath her paws, swaying with the monster’s movements. Beechfang’s heart pounded painfully in her chest as she watched their surroundings flash by at an impossible speed.

The twoleg closed the door, walking to a corner of the room and carefully setting the cage down. It was a relief to feel like she was standing on solid ground rather than the disconcerting, nauseating time spent in the belly of the monster or being carried like she was nothing more than a piece of fresh-kill.

Her new surroundings were just as full of strangeness, if not nearly as bright. No cages holding other cats lined the area, instead one of the leafless, treelike structures that she’d seen kittypets laying on in their gardens was near a corner of the nest, up against one of the strangely smooth, plain, oddly-pale walls that resembled no rock she had ever seen in the forest, with a low, circular platform next to it. Another twoleg thing took up a corner of the room, but Beechfang couldn’t begin to say what it was. It was composed of several columns and platforms that could have, she supposed, vaguely resembled a tree if one squinted long enough and forgot about the uniquely straight lines that twolegs seemed fond of, and the odd gray-tinged color that was again uniquely uniform and unbroken. From this distance, she could tell it wasn’t bark that could be found on any trees. That however, didn’t interest Beechfang. What interested her was the square letting in light just behind it, visible through the (probably clear-ice covered) hole was an actual tree and part of the garden that she’d caught a very brief glimpse of when the twoleg had taken her into the nest.

Now, if she could figure out how to get outside... The twoleg had closed the door upon entering the room, and was currently heading toward Beechfang, making soft noise as she went. Beechfang glared, not at all happy about her unfamiliar surroundings or the twoleg’s presence, but it seemedl ike there was nothing she could do about either, still being stuck in the cage.

The twoleg knelt in front of and slightly to the side of the cage, limbs arranged in a position that looked awkward and miserable for it to hold for any length of time. How they managed anything at all their overly-lanky, biped forms was beyond Beechfang’s understanding. Starclan must’ve cursed them for something, to have an appearance like that. Given her current predicament, Beechfang could think of a myriad of reasons for such. How they managed not to trip over themselves and fall onto their stupid faces was anyone’s guess. While she contemplated the twoleg’s inferiority, the she-twoleg reached out a furless paw, opening the cage door. She sat back on her haunches, barely more than a few tail-lengths away, and coo’d something unintelligible at Beechfang. Her tone could only be surmised as patronizing, and even kits could form something more coherent. Beechfang glared at the twoleg, ears remaining just as flat against her head as they had been since they’d left the cutters earlier.

Was the twoleg waiting for her to come out? Was she expecting Beechfang to offer herself up for pats like some foolish kittypet who lacked two braincells to rub together? If that were the case, she hoped for the twoleg’s sake that it wasn’t holding its’ breath.

---

The vet technician shook her head and sighed as the big tabby glared at her. She’d never seen such a look of disdain on a cat’s face before, but this one managed it with slightly unnerving accuracy. With a bit of attention, the street cat would do fine, hopefully. She hadn’t been too happy about the cat carrier, or the car ride, or... Anything, really, but even more docile cats sometimes didn’t enjoy traveling. She’d set food and water bowls out, as well as the other essentials. Litterbox in one corner of the room, cat tree by a wall, and a few other toys scattered about. The sofa bed folded up nicely, allowing more space in the small bedroom just off the living room at the rear of her small house. The cat had glanced around the room, seeming almost curious, but seemed a bit too scared to come out of her carrier just yet. She would get curious enough to do so on her own time, the vet technician figured.

After a few minutes of sitting, the vet tech stood. The cat let out a warning hiss at the movement, and the vet tech rolled her eyes. “Oh relax, no more excitement for you today, I promise.” She felt little amusement at the cat’s reactivity, wondering not for the first time what had possessed someone to treat an animal like this. No way had the feral cat survived on her own without human intervention of some sort, and she had seemed... Somewhat better fed than most strays in the area. Not dangerously thin like many of the street cats that were brought to the clinic, but the healed scars were further evidence that someone had either done the bare minimum to look out for her or had a hand in her current appearance. Though the vet technician expected even without the extensive scarring, the cat wouldn’t have been the most friendly-looking. She was no kitten either, and that just meant an adoption in the future would be that much harder, even without the temperamental claws. With a shake of her head, the vet tech strode to the door, carefully closing it behind her. The spare bedroom was cat-proofed, and letting her acclimate to a smaller space would be easier than needing to haul her out from behind the TV stand or off of the top of the kitchen cabinets. Once she adjusted a bit, she could have free reign of the house. The mouse was small, but with enough nooks and crannies that a cat unused to humans would love. She’d check on her new guest often, but there was no need to overwhelm her for now.

---

The twoleg left, and Beechfang waited several long moments as the sound of her heavy pawsteps receded. Hesitantly, she stepped out of the carrier. At least now she could stretch her limbs out fully, something she’d been wanting to do for ages despite the still-there twinge in her abdomen. Whatever wound the twolegs had given her, it was healing. Slower than Beechfang would’ve liked, but still healing.

Stretching finished, Beechfang circled the room unhappily, sniffing at the closed den entrance the twoleg had retreated from. She stayed there for a moment, listening to the faint sounds of movement elsewhere in the den. The twoleg didn’t seem like the type that would just abandon her here, she’d be back... Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately. If she could slip out when the door was open, the entrance to the garden around her den was close. Then all she had to do was make it through that. She could lose the twoleg in the maze of the alleyways, maybe slip into the forest beyond the fence briefly to muddy her tracks.

With a soft huff, Beechfang continued her circuit around the room. Food and water bowls had been set out, as had a dirtbox... Litterbox, whatever the kittypets called it. She would rather it have been outside of the den completely, but twolegs were disgusting creatures who didn’t seem to care. And those weren’t what interested her, at the moment.

She sniffed at the tree-like structure warily, and with some disdain. She’d never seen a tree shaped like these out in the forest, much less one that was covered by some sort of pelt. But it offered a way to get closer to the hole in the den wall that was covered with the clear-ice she’d seen in some of the old twolegplace dens before. The pelt covering felt strange against her paws, but it provided a good surface to sink her claws into as she climbed carefully to the top, testing each section carefully in the hopes that it would hold her weight. The structure held, and she gazed out of the clear-ice-covered hole longingly. There had to be a way out of here... She couldn’t be stuck here forever. Her father would’ve noticed her absence long before now and gone looking... Stars knew what trouble Bloodstrike would get into if she wasn’t there to watch him. And the fence that bordered Skyclan territory... Her former clanmates would’ve noticed her scent grew staler and staler. Did any of them still care or were they glad that a murderer was gone from their borders at last? Some of them would be, Beechfang was sure, but her kits might still worry, just as she worried about them. She sniffed at the clear-ice, tail lashing back and forth in frustration. There didn’t seem to be any gaps or holes she might’ve been able to squeeze through, a shame. Beechfang remained by the window for a little bit, then carefully dropped back to the ground, continuing her exploration of the unnatural twoleg den.

The second vaguely tree-like object almost reminded her of the ones sometimes in twoleg gardens, but this one was covered in a soft pelt and was longer. Beechfang hadn’t expected it to be somewhat springy as she landed on it, claws flexing in the material curiously. It almost reminded her of the twoleg thing Bloodstrike had been using for nesting material, though of course it was the wrong color and shape. The scent of another twoleg was so faint that had she not been paying attention, she might not have noticed it at all. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. It was bad enough to have the one twoleg actively frequenting the place. Claws digging into the material once again, Beechfang made her way back to the floor, not before glancing at the gap between the bottom of the pelt-covered thing and the floor. It looked large enough for her to fit under... She would keep that in mind for later.

A few round objects were scattered about the floor, one of which had a stick with some sort of feathers attached to it. For what use, Beechfang didn’t know, and she approached them warily, sniffing. One of the round objects made a tinkling noise when she rolled it with her paw, and she stared at it in confusion before it came to a stop, with it the obnoxious noise ending. Right... That thing could stay where it had come to a stop. That was just annoying, even if it didn’t seem to be harmful.

Maybe it would be harmful for her sanity, whatever precious little remained of that.

With an annoyed hiss, Beechfang glanced around the room once more. There was little else of interest beyond what she’d explored, and she wouldn’t be caught dead just sitting in the carrier waiting for the twoleg to come back like a good little kittypet. If the twoleg came back... She’d learn the twoleg’s comings and goings at some point, she hoped. Then she could plan.

For now, Beechfang slunk underneath the soft-pelted thing that reminded her almost of nesting material. It gave her a clear view of the den’s entrance... And the twoleg wouldn’t see her when she entered the den, either.

She had no intention of taking her captivity like a spineless kittypet. The twoleg would realize her mistake soon.

---

The twoleg yowled as fangs sank into the soft flesh of her ankle, shaking and reaching for Beechfang with ugly, grasping paws. As Beechfang had thought, the twoleg hadn’t even noticed her hiding spot when she walked into the room. She’d simply crossed to the thing she’d been hiding under and sat, putting those misshapen legs directly in front of Beechfang.

It was practically an invitation. If the twoleg had thought Beechfang being in her den meant that she would be docile, she had been very, very wrong in her assumption. Of course, twolegs weren’t smart anyways, so this was of no surprise to Beechfang.

The twoleg shook her leg, batting at Beechfang with her paws, and Beechfang let go, hissing as she retreated back under her hiding spot. The twoleg was much too large to get beneath it, and the back of it was just enough out of reach from her. Beechfang watched the twoleg disdainfully, letting out a rumbling growl as a paw tentatively reached for the gap that she’d crawled under. The paw stilled, and she could almost feel the twoleg thinking better of it. Strangely however, there was no sense of anger, though from whatever the twoleg was whining, Beechfang could sense the hurt. Tough foxdung, it was her own fault, in Beechfang’s unbiased opinion. She come in wholly unprepared and unconcerned, hardly even paying attention. It was more than deserved.

Red blood bloomed bright and vivid against the twoleg’s pale flesh as it backed away, and Beechfang smiled at the way she moved her paw. Nothing debilitating, but it would bother her for a bit. Maybe if she was lucky, it would become infected, as she’d seen so many other wounds become infected.

---

The sound of footsteps preceded the twoleg’s arrival again, and Beechfang watched coldly as she entered the room. Her movements now were slower, more wary, and the ankle she’d bitten earlier in the day was covered with something. What, Beechfang didn’t know and didn’t care. With how they treated cats at the cutters, she was sure they were capable of taking care of their own wounds just as they were of creating wounds in others. Beechfang eyed the open threshold as the twoleg stepped into the room, but just as quickly as it had opened, it closed. She’d inspected it earlier, and had found no way to get through it. A few well-placed scratches marked her displeasure at that, scratches that the twoleg didn’t notice because she didn’t turn around. Surely, she must’ve at least heard the roughness of Beechfang claws on the object, but it was impossible to tell if she had.

The golden-haired twoleg carried objects in her paws, and Beechfang’s nose wrinkled in disgust as she recognized what they were. She remained in her spot as the twoleg busied herself with cleaning and refilling food and water. So long as the twoleg stayed away from her, she wouldn’t attack. For now, at least. As disgusting as those brown pellets were, as tepid and strange as the water tasted, Beechfang wasn’t a fool. There was no way for her to get outside and hunt, or else she wouldn’t have needed to depend on the twoleg for anything in the first place. It was truly baffling to her how kittypets could live like this, and even more baffling that many of them seemed to even enjoy it, seeing no need for change in their sheltered, pathetic lives. And how any of them could stomach their litter box being so close to where the twolegs put their food, and where they slept... Absolutely disgusting. At least the twoleg had the sense to remove the waste, but it still bothered Beechfang. Clan cats didn’t make dirt where they slept, they weren’t filthy.

The twoleg stood for several moments glancing around the room. She seemed to remember Beechfang’s hiding spot from earlier and steered clear of it, dropping to her heels as she stared across the room at her. Beechfang stared right back, both defiant and sullen in equal measures. She wanted no part of the twoleg, and for the moment the twoleg seemed to be respecting that. The golden-haired twoleg said something, the words as unintelligible as they had been, and picked up one of the strange round objects that she’d noticed on the ground previously. It rattled as she picked it up, and Beechfang hissed at her in annoyance. She didn’t know what the thing was for, but it surely had no practical use, except to maybe scare off prey like how a chattering, unwary apprentice might on their first day out of camp. Except there was no prey here, so the only purpose it served was to be obnoxious.

It didn’t take long for the twoleg to give up on whatever she’d been trying to do, and she turned to the moveable part of the den wall. Finally noticing Beechfang’s claw-work, it seemed, and a string is noises came from the twoleg’s mouth. From the tone, Beechfang could gather that she was frustrated and angry. Good, the twoleg should know how she felt. Still huffing and grumbling, the twoleg exited the room. Once she had left, Beechfang crawled from her hiding spot, leaping to the top of the pelted tree, gazing out at the world beyond the twoleg nest.

Her mind wandered to Primroselight and Muddythorn, and Dawnfeather. Had any of them been captured by twolegs? Were any of them forced to live like this, unable to set their paws in the forest and being cooped up in a stuffy twoleg nest all day? It must’ve been awful, to be cut off from family and friends. Beechfang had felt those losses keenly in her exile, of course, but being trapped here made it even worse. At least she’d had the ability to linger near the borders, and Bloodstrike had gone with her (even if he shouldn’t have at all, stupid mousebrain). She missed the leaf-fall sun on her fur, she missed hunting for her own prey. She missed not being stuck in one place with absolutely nowhere to go. She could sit in the pelted tree when the twoleg wasn’t disgracing her with her very presence and stare out the window of clear-ice, but Beechfang longed to actually be out there, not just staring at what she couldn’t have. She done enough of that when she’d been a medicine cat, and more of it upon her exile. She was sick of the feeling.

Of course, the exile had been her own fault. Being on her own had given her more than enough time to reflect on it, to war with her own thoughts and instincts on the matter. Being cooped up in this twoleg den had given her even more of that time, with even less chance of distraction.

Cloverheart, she was sure, was laughing at her, just as the stars had always laughed at her. Beechfang, in another time, would’ve laughed too, to see just how far she had fallen. Just how far her own decisions had carried her from all she’d held close. Perhaps if she’d took less time lashing out, less time fighting against what she couldn’t control... Well, she had controlled Cloverheart’s death. She’d made that choice. Walking away had hardly crossed her mind at the time, she’d been so angry with the tiny medicine cat. Angry at the world.

And where had that gotten Beechfang, exactly? Exiled, alone, ultimately trapped in a stars-forsaken twoleg nest. Had it been worth it? She didn’t think so, now. She’d wrestled with the thought for long enough even before being captured to know exactly how she might’ve talked herself out of that belief, too. Beechfang shook her head to herself.

She’d been too stubborn to voice her regret before, and now there was nobody to voice it to. Not that it would have mattered, regret wouldn’t change the past, after all.

Beechfang rested her head on her paws, gazing out at the garden beyond.

---

She hadn’t bothered scrambling into her hiding spot as the door opened, instead glaring at the twoleg from across the room. The twoleg gave voice to... Something, sounding almost pleased, and more than a little surprised by it. Had she thought that Beechfang’s hiding was fear, and was now pleased that she wasn’t? Beechfang stared at her for a moment, and snorted. Then turned her gaze toward the window.

As clear a dismissal as she could give. The twoleg was still speaking in that grating, falsely cheerful tone, and Beechfang ignored her as she went about the room. Tuning her out entirely was impractical, of course. She didn’t trust the twoleg as far as she could throw her, and tuning out the grating voice was proving to be rather difficult. She chattered quite a bit at Beechfang, not that she could understand it, and it was just as annoying as some cats she’d had the misfortune of knowing.

With a huff, Beechfang rested her head back onto her paws, eye fixed on the outside world beyond the clear-ice, one ear twitching as the twoleg moved about the room. Eventually she’d give up and leave, just as she always did.

---

The twoleg’s heavy, uncoordinated pawsteps neared the door, and Beechfang waited, tail twitching as she crouched just next to it. When the twoleg opened the door, she would dart through. There had to be a way out, there had to be. She didn’t want to be so close to the twoleg for even a second, but if she could just find a way out, it wouldn’t matter.

The door cracked open, tensing, Beechfang exploded forward, flitting between the twoleg’s long, misshapen legs. A yowl of surprise was her response, the twoleg’s paws practically tripping over themselves as it reached down, flailing in surprise. The furless paws brushed against Beechfang’s fur, and she let out an indignant wail of her own, tail thrashing from side to side as she was lifted into the air. The twoleg’s limbs wrapped around her as she struggled, and the twoleg said... Something. To Beechfang, it almost sounded as if she were laughing at her failed escape attempt.

The twoleg backed into the room, and the door was swiftly kicked shut. Beechfang was set down, and immediately launched herself back toward the cat tree, glaring at the twoleg from her perch, tail lashing back and forth. The twoleg stared right back with her bright blue eyes, looking far too amused for Beechfang’s sanity.

She was Dawnhawk. Or sent by him. There was no other way. Beechfang growled at her in disgust. The twoleg reclined onto its’ haunches, back against the door.

Beechfang stared at the door, having grown accustomed to the twoleg’s footsteps nearing it by now. In the distance, dogs barked, and while some cats might’ve been happy to not have to deal with the threat they posed, Beechfang had been increasingly growing antsy, unhappy with being stuck in a twoleg den. Her paws ached to have the forest floor beneath them once more, or even the unevenness of the old twolegplace. She missed the sensation of prey under her jaws.

The twoleg’s pawsteps moved past the closed door and she sighed, retreating to her perch and gazing through the clear-ice. There was the slam of another door, and she caught sight of a shadow that resembled the silhouette of the twoleg in the garden. She was standing, with a paw lifted to her face.

Weird. Twolegs were weird. And stars-cursed.

Suddenly, there came a loud rumbling. The den shook, and Beechfang leapt from her perch with a startled yowl as it toppled like a tree, barely dodging being caught under it. It turned out that the ground was no more stable a place to stand, and her claws scratched for a solid hold as the world shook violently around her. The water and food bowls, and the litter box had upended themselves in the turmoil, leaving a mess across the ground. Distantly, she was aware that the twoleg was yowling, her heavy, uncoordinated footfalls racing towards the space in which Beechfang was held.

The door was flung open, the twoleg stumbling as her grotesque, hairless paws tried to catch Beechfang. The door wasn’t immediately closed behind her, however... And that was the twoleg’s mistake. Whatever was going on, Beechfang would not be around to find out what happened. Lunging forward, she snapped her jaws at the twoleg’s ankle, as she had done previously, twisting between the twoleg’s feet as she darted toward the open threshold. There was a crash behind her, and more yowling from the twoleg. Beechfang didn’t pause, only turned, skidding slightly on the too-smooth ground beneath her paws, hoping that an exit to the outside had been left open as well. With the speed the twoleg had raced to find Beechfang, surely...

There.

Never had green grass been such a welcome sight, even as Beechfang fought for balance while moving as quickly as she could given how much the ground was shaking. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn it was the pounding in her chest and her own anxiety, but this wasn’t. This – whatever it was, was real.

As quickly as the earth had started shaking, it stopped, and Beechfang pitched forward, nearly tripping over her own paws as she made it out in the open, fresh leaf-fall air.

She’d actually done it. Now, to make sure it stayed that way. She could hear the steps of the twoleg behind her – her golden, blue-eyed captor had managed to find her paws. No time to look back, Beechfang needed to run. Run, and lose the twoleg in the maze of alleyways. Once Beechfang made her way out of the small garden, she turned. The strange earth-shakings had left things in more than a little disarray, but thinking through her panic, Beechfang could recognize the landmarks around her. She was still in the twolegplace that she'd fled to after being exiled. That was good, she could find her way back to Bloodstrike-

Bloodstrike.

Her father would've taken the rumbling, angry earth as a challenge. A challenge for what, Beechfang wasn't sure. Some sort of heroics, or more likely life-endangering foolishness. Mom would've stopped him, she was sure, but mom wasn't around. That meant she had to find him, and prevent him from whatever the mousebrain was about to do. Because no way would he stay put with something like this going on. Beechfang was sure of it, as sure as she was of the back of her paw.