An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 8 is officially published! Chapter 9 is currently in the works and will finally delve into the unanswered question from the prologue. Who is the gray she-cat?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Warnings: This excerpt contains gore (detailed description), death, and a level of grief. Please don't continue reading this excerpt if you are uncomfortable with these topics!
Without further ado, please enjoy this excerpt :D
It was raining. Hard. The wind hissed and thunder illuminated the sky. She was used to the harsh life of a free cat, it was difficult, but it was much better than being some pampered pet for a group of housefolk. The very thought left a disgusting taste in her mouth, they didnât live in homes, they lived in stone prisons with Men.
While in her thoughts, she failed to notice the moss above her giving out, and a large pile of water poured straight onto her. She hissed in fright and jumped away, the water dripping off her now damp gray fur.
âStupid weather. Stupid mill.â She grumbled to herself.
She sauntered out of her shoddy den towards a drier spot in the mill. As she turned the corner, she noticed the rest of her group already sitting there, huddled together and shivering. They were deep in conversation, trying to pass the time. As she walked to the middle of the group, the surrounding cats dipped their heads in respect and perked their ears.
She raised her voice so all the group could hear, âIt seems that this mill isnât the best place for us to stay the night in, and I apologize for that, but it was necessary. It was much better than spending the night in an alleyway where those scum could attack us already. Weâve already lost too many good cats.â
She paused, taking a moment to look at her cats. As she scanned around her, the cats gave her both hopeful looks and mournful expressions.
She continued, âI believe I found a lower level where we can make camp for the night. Itâs not the most comfortable, but itâs clearly better than up here. My den has already flooded due to this horrible weather, so letâs get moving. But first, rollcall.â
As she called out the names the cats, she realized one cat was missingâher mother. Her eyes widened, a feeling of dread suddenly washing over her.
âWhereâs Mother?â
The group looked confused, exchanging worried glances. Then, one of the cats, a brown she-cat, spoke up, âWe thought you knew where she was?â
She felt as if she had swallowed a stone, her body felt heavy, as if she couldnât stand. Thoughts swirled through her mind, none of them pleasant.
No! No! No! How could I let this happen? No cat could possibly survive outside in weather like that! I have to go find her! She thought.
She unsheathed her claws, flexing them involuntarily. Suddenly, she pointed her tail at the red cat in the crowd, âYou! I showed you where that spot was! Bring everyone there!â She was too worried to even remember her own friendâs name, she had to find her mother.
She dashed towards the millâs exit, a terrified look covering her face. âIâll be back! No one is to leave the mill!â
Outside the mill, she ran like her life depended on it, barely pausing to taste the air for her motherâs scent. She caught the she-catâs scent, but it was faint due to the rain. The she-catâs scent tasted of chicken, which they both had coerced off of a fluff-brained housecatâs housefolk. Her mother was a true rogue, the best there ever was, she could easily manipulate the gullible Men into giving her what she wanted, and she was a master of surviving in the wild. She was their leader after all, but how could she be so foolish to leave the safety of the mill in the middle of a thunderstorm?
As she ran, she slipped on a deep puddle of water on the Beastsâ Path, which caused her to go barreling into a garbage can.
âMousedung! That hurt!â She cursed.
She got up and quickly licked down a patch of her fur that had gotten messed up due to the crash and tasted the air again. Her mother was close. Despite being the worldâs greatest rogue, her mother was just that, her mother. The she-cat had cared for her since kithood, she could remember every time her mother had fought to keep her safe. She wouldnât let her mother suffer in this storm.
Just then, she heard a yowl, the sound of an angry she-catâher mother. The she-cat sounded pained, like she was wounded. She could hear the voices of other cats too, they were taunting the she-cat.
âCome on, fleabag! Fight back!â The cats teased, their voices sickening to her.
Then, she heard a horrifying sound. A bloodcurdling scream. It was terrifying, but it only made her run faster. She pounced onto a fence as it came into her path, easily crossing it. On the other side of the fence was a grim sight, there was only one thing, her mother.
She was laying on the ground, illuminated by one of the false suns that the Men had placed on the sides of the Beastsâ Path. The false sun flickered almost ominously, like it knew something was wrong.
âMother?â She stammered, her voice now filled with kit-like fear. âAre you okay?â
She stepped closer, waiting for a response. She perked her ears. Her mother wasnât even breathing.
âMother!â she cried out.
She rushed to the she-catâs side. At her side, she saw a horrible sight. Her mother was surrounded in a pool of her own blood. The she-catâs once beautiful gray fur was now covered in warm, sticky blood. The blood pooled around her throat, where the murderers had sliced it open. It was revolting, she could see inside her motherâs throat, the red, bloody flesh barely concealed by the red liquid flowing out of the wound.
She buried her face in her motherâs chest and sobbed. Her mother was dead. She took a long sniff of her motherâs scent before she yowled aloud, hoping the monsters responsible would hear. âYou mangy badgers! Youâve killed her! Youâve murdered my mother in cold blood! I promiseâno, I vow to youâI wonât rest until I find out which of you disgusting, sorry excuses for cats took her life! I wonât stop until youâve felt the same pain youâve inflicted upon me! This is an act of war! There will be bloodshed!â
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Meet Darkpaw, a young ThunderClan apprentice with fluffy black fur and inquisitive yellow eyes. He is somewhat timid, but he is very observant.
Meet his sister, Rosepaw, an apprentice with soft red fur who exudes confidence, mischief, and a desire to make things go her way. She is no stranger to making others follow her lead. However, below her confident exterior, there lies something else.
