The Warriors of DisneyClan

Your favorite Disney characters as warrior cats. Mobile users can see all the pages here!

[disneywarriorcats]

one thing i've been tinkering with is the nightmare before christmas cats

i think somewhere on this blog they're still called NightClan but i'm debating just calling them The Night.

another thing with them--they're a horror-based group (as it were), so their ranks are named accordingly.

warriors are now called horrors and apprentices are now called terrors

[disneywarriorcats]

what's up fellas, it's me again. several years later. whoops.

i haven't forgotten about this project. it's still something i poke around in from time to time, even if i haven't posted here in a hot minute. which i should definitely do.

i have a lot of things i've been playing around with. i took a couple pages out of @/bonefall's book in terms of organization (arcs vs novellas vs episodes). very fun stuff. i think what's going to end up happening here is i'm going to ramble about whatever, throw some spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks. it's gonna be great.

[disneywarriorcats]

Hi everyone! I know it’s been a while, and I’m sorry for that. I haven’t given up on this project, it’s just on the back burner rn. I plan on rewriting what I have so far for Arc 1, because honestly there’s something about it I’m not happy with, I just haven’t yet figured out what that is. Also working out some kinks with A1 and planning out the other arcs (roughly). Nightmare Arc is also going to get a revamp sometime down the road, both because I’m not happy with the DisneyClan sections and because there are characters there who might not actually appear in the full project itself.

I’m sorry for anyone who popped in just to realize it’s been about a year since I updated. I promise I haven’t forgotten about this, I’m just preoccupied with some other projects atm.

On related note, I downloaded scrivnener, which I think is really going to help me as far as planning and putting things together and keeping everything organized.

[disneywarriorcats]

Also doing some name changes for some characters!

[disneywarriorcats]

Hi everyone! I know it’s been a while, and I’m sorry for that. I haven’t given up on this project, it’s just on the back burner rn. I plan on rewriting what I have so far for Arc 1, because honestly there’s something about it I’m not happy with, I just haven’t yet figured out what that is. Also working out some kinks with A1 and planning out the other arcs (roughly). Nightmare Arc is also going to get a revamp sometime down the road, both because I’m not happy with the DisneyClan sections and because there are characters there who might not actually appear in the full project itself. I’m sorry for anyone who popped in just to realize it’s been about a year since I updated. I promise I haven’t forgotten about this, I’m just preoccupied with some other projects atm. On related note, I downloaded scrivnener, which I think is really going to help me as far as planning and putting things together and keeping everything organized.

[disneywarriorcats]

Update!

DWC is now on AO3!

[lesbiantiana]

oswald the lucky rabbit: *exists*

mickey mouse in 1928:

[fine-not-fine]

@disneywarriorcats

[disneywarriorcats]

oh O O F

[disneywarriorcats]

Chapter 4

DIIIIIII-EEEEEEYYYY!

And then he was running. Mickey bounced against his chest with a hiss of surprise. The sludgy shuffle of the black shadow behind rang in his ears, thick and heavy. It let out another sound, a low crooning, groaning of anger and despair as Disney escaped its grasp.

It called to him again, a gurgly distorted voice. He pressed on, ears flat against his head, listening for the moment when the sloshing grew faint. StarClan help him if it didn’t. There was nothing to climb. He couldn’t climb with Mickey in his jaws.

He smelled rotting leaves. He smelled blood. Oswald was in his jaws. They were barreling toward the Gates. The shadows kept pace with them.

The wraith gave another screech. This one wordless, mangled, carrying every ounce of rage in its shadowy form.

Disney rounded a corner, paws skittering on broken glass.

The skies cleared.

They were blue and sparsely spotted with clouds. The sun was shining. A cool breeze ruffled his pelt, carrying the scents of musty old building and trash and decaying wood. The streets were as they had been: empty and silent. The smell of rot and death was nowhere to be found.

Disney dropped Mickey at his paws. It had all been the product of his imagination. His overactive imagination.

Of course. The wraith could never come this far from the Old Territory. Not where the stars shine. But its all too clear screeches lingered in his ears.

At his paws, Mickey sat shaken and confused. “What was that?”

“My apologies, son,” Disney said, catching his breath. “I’m not fond of streets this quiet. I thought I’d heard something.”

Mickey nodded but continued to eye Disney with concern and intrigue as Disney stared out into the empty streets before them. Of all the ways the incident in the Old Territory could affect him, Disney hadn’t thought that would be one of them. Never before had he been so convinced that the wraith had found its way beyond the Gates, heard it so clearly in his ears. The quiet was getting to him more than he realized.

“W-would you tell me?” Mickey asked. “What it was you heard?” He peered behind Disney. “It sounds like it was pretty scary.”

Disney hesitated. He hadn’t planned on telling Mickey anything of the Old Territory. It was scary—too scary for a cat his age; it was more than a regular ghost story told around nesting sites. “I don’t think that’s a story you’d like to hear,” he said at last. “I think it may be too much for you.”

The kit squirmed uncomfortably. “Will…whatever it was…come back?”

“No,” Disney said, glancing over his shoulder. “I don’t think so.” Then, after a pause, said, “Let’s…keep moving,” and Mickey was all too happy to oblige.

They went on along their current path, sticking to the sidewalk, skirting around patches of glass and other dangerous materials. The sun rose to its highest point in the sky, at which time Disney attempted to hunt but found nothing. Despite all the trash and potential food sources for small animals, nothing was around, and on the one rat he did find managed to evade his grasp.

He wasn’t terribly surprised. As they rounded another corner, he began to pick up the scent of cats. It was stale, no more than a few days old, but it wasn’t a scent he wanted to smell. It was a scent marking left by the mountain cats, the Huns. He and Mickey were getting closer to contested territory.

They still had daylight, at least. If they kept at their current pace, they could make it out of the area by sundown. Disney didn’t want to stay here overnight.

The longer they stayed, the more on edge Disney became. Not because of the possibility of a wraith stalking him in the shadows, but because of the feeling of eyes burning into his pelt from the empty windows of the old factory buildings. He caught a glimpse of a pair of yellow eyes in one window; when he turned to look, they were gone.

He urged Mickey on.

For the next few streets, they carried on with the feeling of being watched, until at last it stopped. Disney should have felt relief, but instead he felt fear; his fur prickled, his stomach knotted. He felt that there was something wrong in not being watched now. Not being watched meant that someone was following them.

He paused to taste the air. A heavy cat scent was coming toward them on a gentle breeze. It wasn’t stale, but fresh, and it was getting closer to them. He nudged Mickey toward a nearby alley, filled with stacked boxes. “Into that box—quickly!”

The kit scrambled into the box, Disney close behind. They crouched as far against the back as they could manage; Disney put himself over Mickey to protect him. The cat scent was growing stronger.

At least five of them. Maybe more.

He prayed to StarClan that the cats would pass them by.

No such luck.

The face of a small brown cat appeared in the entrance of the box; Disney hissed with surprise; Mickey crouched lower. The cat curled his lip, grinning with pale eyes, then turned and motioned with a nod of his head to another cat out of their line of vision. The small tom stood aside as another cat approached. Disney’s heart sank.

The new cat was even larger than the first, larger than Disney, with a thick mane of fur around his neck. His thick dark brown fur marked him as a mountain cat; his unusual black and yellow eyes marked him as a cat widely feared.

“Shan Yu.”

The massive tom grinned, showing a set of fangs nearly as large as Mickey’s paw. “Disney.” His voice was calm and raspy, almost pleasant to hear, if not for the threat lacing his words. “It’s not often we see city center cats in these parts. What brings you here—oh.” He stared down at Mickey with a tilt of his head. “Is he yours?”

“No,” Disney answered, wishing for a moment the answer was yes. “I’m bringing him back to his housefolk.”

Shan Yu hummed. “I see. You know,” he said, sitting down to lick one forepaw. “These streets aren’t safe for cats such as yourselves. There is a war going on.”

“So I’ve heard,” Disney said. “I thought it would be over by now. Are the Queen’s forces giving you that much trouble?”

Shan Yu huffed. “The Queen’s forces are hardly a challenge. She’s killed more of her own army than we have.” He lifted his chin, looking proud of himself, then gazed around at the towering, rundown brick factories around them as a gentle breeze swept through. “The war should end soon,” he mused. “The winds are favorable.”

Disney hummed indifferently. Whatever the outcome of the war, the effect would ripple into the city. If Shan Yu won, the city streets would change forever. The Queen’s guard, in the heart of the city, no doubt looking to reestablish themselves. Frollo and his Peacekeepers suddenly at war with an invading lot. The bloodshed would pour over into the city. How many cats would die then? Innocents caught up in the war, kits like Mickey?

The breeze faded; Shan Yu looked back to Disney and Mickey. “Where did you say you were off to?”

“The houses.”

“Ah.” The massive cat nodded, ears flattened in thought. “Yes. And to get there, you’ll have to cross through the battlefield.” He narrowed his eyes. Then he smiled, showing his long fangs. “Perhaps my cats can provide an escort?” he offered. “After all, these streets are dangerous for a pair like yourselves.”

Though Mickey trembled and puffed up, Disney forced his fur to lie flat and accept the offer. It was better to temporarily have Shan Yu on his side than to have to fight any of the massive mountain cats off if they put a paw wrong.

Shan Yu stepped side and allowed the pair to emerge from the box. The group of cats gathered in the alley, besides Shan Yu and the smaller brown tom, consisted of three large toms—two near-identical tabbies—a tall, slim black tom with thin yellow eyes, and a ragged black-furred tom with long claws. All far bigger, far more skilled, and far more dangerous than Disney.

“My lieutenants and I will escort you to the city border,” Shan Yu said, circling back around to face Disney and Mickey. “After that, we will leave you.”

Disney dipped his head. “We’re grateful for any protection you can offer.” He suspected there would be a price for this protection; it didn’t seem likely that Shan Yu would offer it to them simply out of the kindness of his heart.

But the mountain cat said nothing more on the matter. He went to the front of the group, directing his members with a single wave of his tail to circle around Disney and Mickey. Stuck at the center of the group, they had no choice but to follow along behind Shan Yu.

[disneywarriorcats]

Chapter 3

Another few days had passed since their initial conversation about the clan. They had now crossed into the outer regions of the city. Only another two days’ travel and they would at last have grass under their paws. The houses were only another one- or two-day journey from there. Presently the sky was beginning to turn red, and Disney was leading them to a well-known rest stop among the city cats.

Along the way, Mickey had asked more about clan names, and Disney had told him as much as he knew. “They’re two-part names,” he said, “that describe a cat accurately. Names like Whitewhisker and Nightflower.”

Oh, wow!” Mickey bounced on his paws. “What do you think my name would be?”

With a hum of thought, Disney surveyed Mickey closely. The kit was small, fluffy, cream-colored and with brown points. Mouse? He was small enough. Fennel? His coat was light enough, save for those points. Either one, or something else entirely, could work equally well. As for a suffix—

“I think you’re a bit young to have a full warrior name,” Disney said. “Cats your age were called ‘apprentices’ and had the suffix -paw.”

“I could be an apprentice, then!”

Disney nodded. “I’d have to give some thought to your name,” he said. “There are so many that would fit you.”

As he finished speaking, they came upon a tall, run-down concrete building, formerly a hotel. It had served the human population well until a newer, more up-to-date hotel had been built closer to the city square, rendering this hotel obsolete. And so it went out of business, boarded up and left to rot. The city cats began to take it over after it was clear the humans wouldn’t reclaim the structure or tear it down, and so it became a rest stop for those coming in, going out, or passing through.

The front door had long since been secured with chain and padlock; a hole in the side wall provided the cats with a means to get in and out of the building. What greeted them when they slipped in was a wide-open space, carpeted in red. Sitting in the center of the space was an old desk, bits of the top counter missing with a rusty old lamp sitting on top. The cord had long since been worn away, leaving a series of wires exposed to the air.

All around the lobby were chairs and couches, some covered, some left alone, all occupied by a single cat or groups of cats. Some lay sprawled out on a cushion, others curled side by side. Those not lounging on red fabric cushions lay in makeshift nests of newspaper and old rags in the corners of the room. Some cats had taken up residence on the staircase and tucked into the shelves of the old desk.

Disney went in first, leading Mickey over a fallen wooden beam, through patches of broken glass and stone debris. The last few rays of dying light shone in through a broken window at the top of the grand staircase; others poked in through holes in the walls. He padded over to a darkened, unoccupied corner of the staircase, heavily chipped and worn away by leaking in the roof. A pile of old, musty material lay in the corner, unused. It wasn’t uncommon for departing cats to exchange old bedding for new for the cats that would come after them.

The pair settled down in the nest, Disney against the wall and Mickey against him. He curled his tail around the kit, who stared out at the resting cats while Disney licked one paw.

“Do you know any of them?”

Disney looked up from his paw. Some cats he recognized from brief meetings in the streets: a dark brown tom and his smaller, lighter brown companion; a trio of three—a small black tom; a larger, pale brown tom; and a long-legged brown tom—nestled in one corner. The rest were unfamiliar to him, coming from other parts of the city or outside the city entirely.

“None by name,” he said, scanning the resting cats. “I’ve only met them briefly, hardly long enough to exchange names.” But as he looked, his eyes rested on a haggard, worn out fluffy white tom under a fallen wooden beam. His sides heaved, tongue hanging from his mouth. His eyes appeared bloodshot, they were so red, but in fact that was their natural color. The very sight of the tom uneased Disney.

Mickey shuffled forward. “What it is?” He paused a moment, then asked, “Who is that?”

Disney curled his tail tighter around Mickey. “He’s called White Rabbit,” he answered in a low voice. “He’s the Queen of Heart’s messenger and herald.” And his appearance here, in what the city cats considered neutral territory, was unnerving. Worrying. How far had the Queen’s forces come into the city?

The hotel felt colder. Disney shifted, pressing himself up against the wall. Perhaps the old boy’s just running an errand, he thought. It isn’t as though we haven’t seen him around before. Always fretting about being late. Reasonable as it was, it didn’t ease Disney’s fears any less.

“Who’s the Queen of Hearts?”

“A molly who holds power over the northeastern corner of the city,” Disney said. “Far from the friendliest of cats, certainly not one I’d like to run into on our way home.”

Mickey wriggled. “She’s not here is she? You said that was her…her…herald.”

“No,” Disney said, “not here. White Rabbit announces her arrival among her troops. He also runs errands in the city for her every now and then. Mostly he’s around for a stroll. This time I imagine he’s discovered his late for his announcement.” White Rabbit had a habit of that, being late. Not that Disney could really fault him, he supposed; any time spent away from the Queen was a relief.

This time, Disney couldn’t possibly imagine what errand brought White Rabbit this far into the city. Were the Queen’s forces losing? Was he going on a recruitment mission? The Queen losing power was a dream most long-lived city cats had, after the long reign of terror she’d wrought over the area. But for her to lose like this…It was concerning.

I need to get this kit home as soon as possible. I don’t want him swept up in a war of that caliber.

They laid there and watched the resting cats. Some left, some new arrived, and all the while Disney kept his eyes on White Rabbit. The poor scrap had at last fallen into an uneasy sleep, twitching and jerking, probably dreaming of what would happen if he arrived late at the Queen’s Court.

“Where are they going?” Mickey asked after a while. A yawn lingered at the back of his words.

“Oh, who knows?” Disney said. “The city is a big place. Some might be passing through. Some might be looking for a new place to stay.”

“And some—” now Mickey yawned widely “—might be going to the houses?”

“Oh yes,” Disney said, “they very well might be.” He wasn’t entirely sure if the kit heard him; when Disney looked over, he was fast asleep.

When morning came, streaming through the broken windows and walls, Disney nudged Mickey into the corner with the notice that he would be going hunting and would come back with a rat for them to share. He didn’t like leaving Mickey on his own for too long, luckily his hunting trip was mercifully short; he managed to procure two rats and brought both back to the hotel. The extra he dropped into a communal fresh-kill pile in one of the drier sections of the main floor—there was always a pile of fresh-kill for visiting cats, left by past visitors—and took the other to where Mickey was now sitting up, swiping a paw over his ear.

“Are we heading out today?” he asked.

Disney dropped the rat at his paws. “If you’d like,” he said. “We’re always welcomed to stay here a few days. They hotel doesn’t have any rules about how long we can stay.” It was a kind of honor system, really. You stayed as long as you liked, so long as you dropped a piece of prey or two in the fresh-kill pile during your stay.

“Ha-hup!” Mickey laughed. “I’d like.”

Disney laughed. “Well, let’s eat this rat first, and then we can be on our way.”

It was after they’d eaten and replaced the bedding of the nest they’d occupied, Disney and Mickey were on their way again. They slipped out of the hotel the same way they’d come in, through the hole in the wall on the other side of the lobby. The air outside was cooler but less stuffy than that inside the hotel; Mickey sneezed at the change in temperature.

Disney took a moment to stretch. He’d noticed as they’d eaten that White Rabbit had risen and left long before they had. He imagined the poor thing was spurred on by his anxiety, his fear of being late. He hoped StarClan would keep an eye out for him and get him home safely.

And keep him safe.

The Queen of Hearts was not a molly to be trifled with.

“This way.” He led Mickey out around the corner of the hotel. The city streets, more decrepit here than in the past areas, were lined with boarded up apartments and factories and old shops. Litter lined the sidewalks and alleys. The rare care passed them by, a small group passing through to the heart of the city.

Mickey crouched low against Disney as they passed by boarded up and even burned buildings, skeletons of the flourishing dwellings they’d once been. He looked back and forth across the street, ears up and swiveling constantly, eyes searching every inch of the streets. “Does anyone live here?”

“Humans, not so much now,” Disney said with a sigh, looking over the street. “Cats, maybe. I don’t come this way if I don’t have to. I’m not sure who lives here now.” He wasn’t sure that anyone had lived here since the Queen’s war with the mountain cats had become; in fact, the only reason the cats further into the city knew of the conflict at all was because of cats who were fleeing the area. Nor was he sure that the Queen’s Guard wasn’t lurking in the broken windows and missing doors.

This place put him on edge.

“Stay close,” he whispered to Mickey. They padded through the streets slowly, stepping carefully over broken glass and other refuse: cardboard boxes, bits of paper, bricks and stones. All kinds of unwanted human trash scattered across the pavement. Mickey was practically underneath Disney as they went, jumping at every sound. Disney was careful not to step on him.

It was too quiet. That was the only thought running through Disney’s mind. There were no birds here, no cars, no people, no cats. Not even the distant screeches of warring parties. Only the wind and shifting cardboard and paper. Indeed, everything had left long ago, never to return.

The hair along his spine stood. This was too much like the Old Territory. It was unsettling peace. The calm before the storm, where something lurked at every corner. Something watched them from the shadows. Something bent on driving them from this place or taking their lives in the process.

It wasn’t a thought he could shake. He at last picked Mickey—mercifully small enough—up and went along as fast as he could. He swore the air behind him darkened; the streets narrowed and blackened, a wraith shuffled along at an agonizingly slow, watery pace. It groaned. A wave of slime flowed from its mouth.

Then he heard its voice: a sharp, grating sound, choked by slime, calling his name.

Diiiiii-eeeeeyyyy!

[disneywarriorcats]

Chapter 2

Over the course of the day, they passed a wide variety of cats, some Disney knew by name, others he didn’t. Some he had interacted with on a nameless basis, simply settling a score for them over a dead rat or some other food source. He nodded to anyone who caught his eye, though most tended to stare at him curiously as he went along with the kit at his side. These were cats who had heard through a distant grapevine of his endeavor to start a clan, and they watched him carefully, perhaps hoping he wouldn’t stop to ask them to leave their lives behind and start anew with him.

Of course, he would never ask them to do such a thing. He knew how important their livelihoods were to them, however fragile they may have been; street living was no easy thing. Only the toughest and smartest—and luckiest—of cats lived to be as old as Disney.

As they passed a pair of black cats standing over a box of half-eaten chicken, Mickey pressed against Disney. “They don’t look very friendly.” With their gleaming golden eyes and bared fangs, Disney quite agreed.

“They won’t hurt you,” Disney promised. “City cats are far more civilized than most would think.” Indeed, the city cats had a particular code of honor, unspoken but well-known to those who had been there long enough to understand. It took longer for newcomers, the street-found. It wasn’t something that could be taught by word of mouth, but by action and reaction.

Still Mickey eyed the cats wearily until they were out of sight. “Are-are there a lot of cats around here?”

“Sometimes,” Disney said. “Some city cats come and go as they wish, others are here permanently. “This city is large; in some areas, there are more cats. In others, less. We’re in one of the areas with less cats.”

“Ohh,” Mickey said with a nod. “What are the other areas like?”

“Much like this,” Disney said, indicating the surrounding area with his tail. “The further out we go, the less crowded it will it is, on every side. Some areas are occupied by large groups of cats. One large group lives on the outskirts of the city, to the east; two others I know of live within, one to the north, the other south.” Upon finishing speaking, a series of bells tolled somewhere in the distance, echoing through the city walls. Disney looked up in an attempt to trace the sound. He swiveled an ear toward Mickey without looking at him. “Do you hear that?”

“Uh-huh.” Then, “What is it?”

“Church bells,” Disney answered. Now he turned to Mickey. “Those are the bells of the Notre Dame cathedral.” They started off again. “If you ever return to the city streets, Mickey, you must never go there. The fellow in charge of that territory isn’t very welcoming toward new cats. I suspect there will be an uprising soon.”

The kit’s eyes grew round. Such a strange world was that of the city cats. So steeped in unspoken rules and territories and turf wars, all rather overwhelming for a young cat unfamiliar with anything outside his own home. Every street-born kitten had an innated sense of the code and vague territory borders; for street-found cats, this was harder to get a grasp of.

He poked his head out from around Disney’s chest. The alleys peered back at him, though he expected a mass of cats from the cathedral’s doorstep. “He must not be a very nice cat.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Oh, no,” Disney confirmed. “Frollo is anything but.” He left the matter at that.

At the point that the sky had turned red, Disney and Mickey were long out of the range of the bells of Notre Dame. Disney caught another rat, which Mickey begrudgingly shared with him, and they found refuge for the night in a worn cardboard box. They set out early the next morning. Breakfast, much to Mickey’s delight, was not a rat, but a few strips of bacon and piece of chicken Disney discovered in the dumpster of the first restaurant they passed.

They made their journey in pleasant spirits. Disney told Mickey all he could of the day-to-day activities of the street cats. He spared the kit the harsher details: the wars in the north, the growing unrest in the south around Notre Dame, the difficulties of finding food. And not a word left his mouth of the Old Territory. The memory was too fresh. Too much danger lay in speaking of what lived behind the Gates.

The next days of their journey found them sleeping in alleys and under wood staircases. Rats and mice, which Mickey greatly preferred, made up their breakfasts and dinners, with the occasional dumpster raid when they could find a decent one.

And so it was, as promised, that a few days into their travels Disney stopped to teach Mickey how to hunt, beginning with the hunter’s crouch. Mickey sank low to the ground, his belly fur brushed the pavement. But his hind end stuck up in the air and his tail dragged low to compensate for this new position. Disney pushed the kit’s hind end down. “Very good,” he said. “Now raise your tail just a little, yes, like that, excellent.”

As he watched Mickey try again, he couldn’t help but see Oswald, bright-eyed and eager to learn, staring down a flock of geese nesting on a field in the Old Territory. The kit crouched, wiggling his haunches. “Dad, are you gonna teach me how to hunt geese?”

He’d chuckled. “Not today, Oswald. I think geese are a little big for you now. Maybe when you’re older.”

“Puh!” Oswald had muttered.

But the kit in front of him this time, now beginning to practice his stalking, was not Oswald but Mickey. And the two looked nothing alike. Disney sighed softly. He narrowed his eyes in thought as Mickey stalked across the pavement. “Slow a little,” he said. “Too fast, and a rat might hear you.”

Mickey took the advice to heart and did just that. “Is this better?”

“Much!”

The lesson continued for another while after that, until the sun was rising to its center position in the sky. At that point, Disney decided it would be best for them to move on; Mickey later found the opportunity to test his newly practiced skills. A rat sat nibbling away at a cardboard box, not having yet noticed the cats.

Mickey dropped into the crouch and stalked, just like Disney had showed him. Step by step he grew closer to the unsuspecting rat, stopping in between steps as the little creature paused in its feeding. When, when he was close enough, he sprang, but too soon. The rat scrambled out of the path of his paws; Mickey darted after it, driving it away from the wall, out into the open alley, then chased it straight into Disney’s paws. Disney finished the rat off and met a disappointed Mickey. “That’s alright, son,” he said. “You’ll get it next time. That was very good.”

“Yeah?” Mickey perked up. “Even if I didn’t catch it?”

Disney purred. “Sometimes some of the best catches are made with teamwork.” It hadn’t been uncommon for his cats to catch birds in pairs or groups of three or four. “Let’s eat this and rest for a while,” he said. “We’ve still a long way to go.”

So they settled down in that alley to share the rat. Mickey still grimaced at the sour taste. Disney chewed slowly, thinking of the clan that almost had been. They’d had a good system, a good territory; plenty of food and water, even if they were as close to humans as they were. They’d had all they wanted then, before the skies had gone dark. Before the wra--

Disney didn’t realize Mickey had said something to him until a small paw poked him in the shoulder. “Hmm?” The kit was looking up at him expectantly.

“What are you thinking about?”

Disney swallowed, then sighed. “A group of cats I used to lead,” he said, staring into the streets, down the alleys on the opposite side. The alley he stared down seemed to darken and narrowed, grow loud with a high shriek. He tore his eyes away. “A clan, we called it.”

“Oh.” Mickey chewed thoughtfully on another piece of rat. “Did…something happen?”

A pause. How could Disney tell a six-moon old kit about what haunted the Old Territory without making him jumpier than he already was? Was there a way to do so? No, Disney decided, there wasn’t. If the kit were staying with him, he would wait until Mickey was older. But Mickey wasn’t, so there was no need to mention it.

“We had some disagreements about my leadership,” he answered. “Most of my cats left in favor of another group. The few that stayed left a few weeks later.”

Again, he thought of Ub. What was his old friend up to these days? Had he finally made his way to the Universals? Or had he made his own way in life?

“Why did they leave?”

“There wasn’t much left of the clan by then. It’s a bit hard to have a full clan with only two cats.”

“Do you think you’d ever try again?”

Now Disney stopped chewing. He’d fleetingly thought about it, about starting anew. Finding new cats to join him in a new clan. The failure of the first was all that stopped him thus far from following through. The wounds were fresher than he realized. He sighed. “I’m not sure.”

One day, perhaps he might. For now, he had to return Mickey to his housefolk. The clan would have to wait.

And if not in my lifetime, then when? Never, appeared to be the likely answer. If Disney didn’t create the clan, no one would. He looked up at the sky. He knew now that he’d been waiting for a sign from StarClan for the beginning of the new clan. His warrior ancestors, at least, had not abandoned him, though he felt farther from them some days. On those days, he reminded himself that the stars still shone over his head. Even if they were quiet.

I would rather have stars and silence than no stars at all.

“What was the clan like?” Mickey asked.

Disney thought back on those times with fondness. “Small,” he said. “But close. We protected each other. We took care of each other. We may have been small, but we were a family.”

Mickey bit into his rat with a little more enthusiasm than Disney had ever seen. His eyes were bright, filled with thoughts of the clan, of living with a group of other cats. He gulped down the piece and looked up at Disney with a smile. “I think it would be fun to live in a clan,” he said. “If I weren’t going home.”

“Well,” Disney said with a chuckle, “if you don’t live far and I start another, we may be able to work something out.”

“I’d like that,” Mickey said, biting off another chunk of rat. “Can you tell me more?”

And Disney did. He told Mickey where he’d gotten the idea—a lone ginger tom, no stranger to the streets, nor a stranger to travel, who had come a long way from the city and who had come from a large group of cats who called themselves clans. They cared for one another, protected their boundaries, and lived alongside three or four other groups—he hadn’t been sure how many.

He told Mickey all about StarClan, the warrior ancestors who watched over the clans and who the clan cats went to in times of hardship and need. He told Mickey of the ranks: the leaders and their seconds-in-command—deputies—who headed the clans; the warriors who hunted and fought for those in their clan, and who trained younger cats to become warriors when they were old enough; the medicine cats, who treated the injured and sick; the elders, the oldest of the clan who held memories from times past, the most revered and respected in the clans; the apprentices, those in training to become warriors.

And Mickey listened with undivided attention and wonder as Disney relayed each detail. When the old tom had finished, Mickey took a breath. “Wow! I can tell my friends I met a real clan cat!”

“Almost,” Disney said with a laugh. “I hadn’t taken my leader name yet.” Leader name, or his nine lives. Each leader got nine new lives, the ginger tom had said. The ceremony itself was kept a secret, but each warrior knew when their new to-be leader left camp for the night that they were off to receive their new lives and name.

“Ohhh,” Mickey said. “Do you think one day you will?”

“If I can start a new clan. Until then, I’m just Disney.”

Their conversation paused while Disney disposed of the rat, then continued when he returned.

“What would your leader name be?” Mickey asked.

“Well, I suppose that depends on what warrior name I took,” Disney mused. “Although I may simply take the name ‘Disneystar.’”

“That sounds nice,” Mickey said. “Could you—” he paused to yawn “—tell me more about clan names?” His head dropped to his paws; he struggled to keep his eyes opened.

“Another time,” Dusney said. “Now, I think it’s time to sleep”

[disneywarriorcats]

Chapter 1

It was the hardest rainfall the city had seen that year. The drains could barely keep up with the amount of water rushing into the streets, to the point that puddles in the roads began to look more like rivers.

The city cats had long since scrambled for cover, shacking up in old factories and empty stores. Disney was one such cat, taking refuge in a loading dock bay, watching the pouring rain from inside.

He was alone these days. Ub had since left, not long after his decision to try to rebuild the clan. Finding cats to join was nearly impossible when they’d all somehow gotten wind of the incident in the old territory. Ub had gotten fed up with Disney’s insistence that they keep trying, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

I’m sorry, Disney, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep fighting for a clan that can’t get off the ground. I need to move on.

And so he did, and Disney let him.

He hadn’t seen Ub since.

Every night since then, when the stars came out, Disney prayed to StarClan that Ub was safe and happy. But he had no way of knowing if his prayers had been answered.

Another flash of lightning and he flinched. Even in the safety of the loading dock he felt too close to the storm. He hoped his former clanmates could find as much safety.

Then came a lull in the storm, when the rain let up and the lightning vanished. Disney rested his head on his paws, watching the water drip from the gutter. His ears swiveled forward, listening to the distant rumble of thunder as the storm at last moved on.

It was then, as the rumble of thunder faded out, that Disney heard a peculiar sound. It was drowned out and high-pitched, nearly like a whistle, but with a feline tone. Disney stood, ears forward, and padded out of the dark toward the sound.

He followed it out from behind the dock--nothing under the trailers or trucks--and to the front of the building. Nothing caught his eye immediately; the streets were uncharacteristically empty in the wake of the storm. No cars, no cats, no humans. Nothing but Disney and the source of the strange wailing.

A preliminary of the empty area revealed nothing out the ordinary. A second scan revealed a small shape huddled under a nearby mailbox.

Disney trotted over and crouched down. Huddled underneath the mailbox was a small cream colorpoint kit, fur plastered to its skin. It stopped wailing when it saw Disney crouched down and staring, and back further under the mailbox. For an instant, Disney saw Oswald, only a few moons old and staring at him with wide brown eyes. He blinked, and looking back at him instead was the small cream kit.

“It’s alright, son,” Disney said. The kit continued to stare. “Where are your parents?”

The kit regained enough of his senses to shrug and shake his head.

Disney sighed. “Come inside. You’ll be safer in the loading dock. It’s warm and dry.”

The kit nodded, and on unsteady lets teetered toward Disney until the older cat was able to scoop the kit up by the scruff and carry him into the loading dock. The kit was heavier, and slightly bigger, than Disney expected, and it took more effort than he thought to carry the kit to the temporary nest he had set up. He dropped the kit in the nest, curled around him, and licked the kit’s fur in the opposite direction to warm him up.

With that, it didn’t take long for the kit to fall asleep. Disney made him as comfortable a possible, then laid his head on his paws and watched as the rain began anew.

The kit’s name was Mickey and he was six moons old.

“You’re a bit small for six moons,” Disney said as Mickey leapt at a butterfly. The kit had perked up considerably since the night before; now he was hopping around and chasing butterflies.

“My parents were small, too, I think,” Mickey said. He sneezed as the butterfly landed on his nose.

They were on their way to the houses, where Mickey thought he lived. He couldn’t remember his parents or which house he lived in as well as he thought. He’d been with another human before the storm struck and he’d gotten lost in the streets. Disney decided the houses was a good place to start; if they could find Mickey’s parents, then perhaps they could help Mickey find his human.

Disney nodded understandingly, though he was still surprised. Mickey was only the size of a four or five moon old kitten and barely came up to his shoulder. He was the smallest cat Disney had ever seen.

Mickey trotted alongside Disney, fluffy tail waving in the breeze. “How long until we reach the houses?”

Disney surveyed the area. They were on the border of the heart of the city, though to anyone unfamiliar with the city, one area looked like any other, beginning to move into the more residential areas that would eventually give way to less dense sections and eventually the sparsely populated neighborhoods. He reasoned that, if they went for the majority of the day, they would arrive at the houses at this time within a few days’ time. But when he said this to Mickey, the kit looked decidedly dejected, having hoped to get home sooner.

“I understand, son,” Disney said. “But the city is a big place, and it takes time to get through it.”

Mickey nodded, not looking any more satisfied with the answer.

Disney sighed and looked around at their surroundings. This was an area well-hunted, frequented by rats and mice, and anyone looking for a decent meal. “Why don’t I catch us something to eat?”

This caught Mickey’s attention; the upset expression on his face faded into curiosity. “Catch?” he asked. “What do you mean catch?”

It occurred to Disney that the most hunting experience Mickey might have ever had was with fake mice dangled in front of him on strings—and the word hunt as the street cats knew it very well may not have been in his vocabulary. House cats were strange that way.

“Like this.” Disney dropped into a hunter’s crouch in demonstration, but quickly spotted a rat creeping through a stack of boxes up against one wall of the alley. He moved slowly and with light paws; stalking a rat on pavement was far different than stalking a rat on grass: less sound, more visibility. Even the most skilled of city hunters had difficulties catching a meal.

It was to his advantage that the wind wasn’t blowing, and that the rat had its back to him, snuffling through the remains some discarded human food for a decent meal. What it found instead was Disney’s claws, and it was Disney who found a decent meal instead.

He picked up the rat and brought it back to Mickey. The kit stared at with awe and wonder, round-eyed.

“Wow,” he breathed, switching between staring at the rat and staring at Disney. “Will you teach me how to do that?”

“Of course,” Disney said with a purr. With the time it would take them to leave the city, it would be enough for him to teach Mickey the basics of hunting. These, of course, could be used in any environment, but it took a special skill set to use in the city. Disney hoped Mickey would never have to learn that particular set. A backyard hunting skill was far better for the kit. Presently, he nudged the rat toward Mickey with one paw. “Go on, try it.”

The kit looked at it with a wrinkled nose; rats were by no means the best-smelling of creatures and their taste was one that took time to get used to. Depending on those trying it for the first time, it was either unpleasantly strange or pleasantly strange. Most found it unpleasantly strange and unappealing. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the city cats ate what they could find. “Is this safe?” Mikey asked. “It smells funny.”

Disney nodded. “They all tend to smell like that,” he said. Sour and with a tinge of oil and the air of the sewers stuck to their fur. Some smelled like kitchen grease, some like moldy subways, but the majority smelled like sewers. All an acquired taste.

Mickey glanced up at Disney, still uncertain, but then slowly bit into the rat and came away with a piece. He chewed carefully a moment before grimacing sharply and spitting a piece of half-chewed rat onto the pavement. “That’s gross!”

“I’m afraid that’s all there is for a while now,” Disney said gently. “We won’t reach the restaurant strip until later in the day.” The pigeons were too high up for Disney to go chasing. And he wasn’t leaving Mickey alone with the kind of rabble that ran through the streets.

The kit frowned deeply, staring at the rat. A moment of silent deliberation passed before Mickey at last bit into the rat again, chewed, and swallowed with a shiver. Not quite unlike Disney’s first time trying rat, although he dared say he was used to the unusual taste from the beginning.

They ate in silence. When they had finished, Disney tucked the remains of the rat up against the wall, with a quick prayer of thanks to StarClan for its life. The he led Mickey away from the alley, and they continued through the city.

[disneywarriorcats]

Nightmare Arc Chapter 3

Clan territory had become so familiar to Briarnose over the last year that she was notably uncomfortable at being back in her old neighborhood. She sensed the same among the other cats in her party, all former house cats themselves, as they looked at the rows of houses spread out before them, decorated with overly large spiders and pumpkin lights. She’d never been thrilled with Halloween from her days as a house cat, too many strange creatures propped up in front yards that screeched or jumped out at her when she went exploring, so she’d stayed indoors. Now she had to navigate these motion-activated mine fields in search of something to bring back to the Clan.

She sighed. Quick and easy was what she hoped for. The massive black spider hanging on the front porch of the nearest house gave her the shivers.

Briarnose turned to her party, consisting of Acornnose, Mouseheart and Dunnockfang, Appleflower, Gingerstripe, and Tigercloud. All were either familiar with the neighborhood or stealthy enough for their needs or both. “We’ll go in two groups,” she said. “Splitting up will be easier. Mouseheart, you go with Dunnockfang and Acornnose. The rest of you are with me. We’ll start small and inconspicuous. If it seems like something no one will miss, take it.”

Mouseheart nodded. “Zuk-zuk, ‘Riar!” He waved his tail to his group, beckoning them in toward the heart of the neighborhood. “This way!” And Dunnockfang and Acornnose trotted off after him, tails up and fluffed with excitement. Briarnose wondered momentarily if it was a good idea for her to have left the three of them unsupervised.

“They’ll be fine,” Appleflower said gently. “Mouseheart has always cared about his cats.”

“I know,” Briarnose said with a hum. “It’s Acornnose I worry about. I know she’s a warrior now, but I can’t help but think she’ll get herself into trouble.”

Appleflower purred. “She’ll mellow out someday, don’t worry.”

Briarnose answered with a second hum and looked out at the wide expanse of Halloween-themed neighborhood before her. She could see smaller decorations littering a few of the houses. A trail of bats ran corner to corner on one garage door, a cluster of spiders occupied a bush at another house.

“We’ll start there,” she said, pointing her nose toward the bats. She started off out of the bushes and padded up the house.

The neighborhood was eerily quiet, not even half as busy as Briarnose would have thought. In her last neighborhood, there was always activity of some kind, always cars up and down the streets, always someone out with their dog. Here, there wasn’t nearly as much activity, and today the place was silent.

That made Briarnose was suspicious.

“It’s like that sometimes,” Appleflower said, easing her fears. “I’ve lived here a long time. There’s never been very much activity.”

Briarnose hummed thoughtfully. That could be why she had always preferred going into the city or busier neighborhoods. It was something to do. She flicked her tail and smelled the air. “No dogs or humans,” she reported. “Grab as many as you can.”

The group padded quickly and quietly across the front lawn toward the garage and began pulling the little plastic bats off the door. While they went about that, Briarnose kept an eye out for any activity, human or otherwise. Other house cats were bound to be around at this hour of the day, and would no doubt ask what the Clan cats were doing.

“Do you think seven will be enough?” Gingerstripe asked, pulling Briarnose out of her thoughts, and spitting a bat out onto the ground as Briarnose turned around. At her paws and the others’ were seven bats, carefully pulled from the door.

Briarnose nodded. “Yes, those will do.” She thought for a moment about grabbig three more, just to have a nice, even number, but the remaining bats on the door were out of her reach, and none of the other cats in her party were tall enough to reach them. Seven would have to do. She picked up a bat and said through the flimsy plastic wing, “Let’s take these back to the bushes. We’ll wait for Mouseheart and his group there.”

At the same time, after separating from Briarnose’s group, now gathering up their bats, Mouseheart led Dunnockfang and Acornnose through the neighborhood. After so many years living the neighborhood, scrounging through trash cans and yards for all kinds of trinkets and whatnot, Mouseheart was particularly good at navigating the area. Him and Dunnockfang, who he had passed all his ways onto not long after the younger tom arrived at Marigoldheart’s home.

Now they weaved through hedges and fences and scaled brick walls in search of the perfect decoration. Mouseheart had something in mind--something big, but not too big, it had to be easy enough for them to drag back; and something scary enough to give anyone who looked at it a good scare. He’d seen dozen of decorations over the years, some more comical than others, and he marvelled at them everytime.

This was his kind of holiday. Pranks? Scares? Games? What more could he ask for? It was like his days in Marigoldheart’s house, but now he had free reign and the support of his Clan leader to do what he pleased!

He let out a brrrp! of excitement as he led the trio along the top of a brick wall. What treasures would he find out today?

“Ideas?” he askes, turning to Acornnose. His whiskers twitched as he noticed Acornnose looking rather out of breath. Oops. So Marigold’s former apprentice wasn’t as accustomed to moving quickly as he and Dunnockfang were.

Acornnose shook her head. “Oh, nothing yet. All I’ve seen so far are skeletons and inflatable things and pumpkins.”

Mouseheart frowned and sat down. Of course, now that he was trying to find something he couldn’t. Ffttt! He swished his tail with an irritated spat.

“Deh, Jaq-Jaq!”

Mouseheart and Acornnose turned to where Dunnockfang was standing on the other side of the brick wall, in the yard behind them, pointing with one paw at something across the street. They sprang down from the wall to join him.

“Yeah, Gus-Gus?”

“Look!” Dunnockfang pointed again across the street; Mouseheart followed his paw to a cat-sized black spider sitting on the porch of the house on the other side. That was it--just what Mouseheart was looking for.

“Yes!” He bounded across the street, forgetting it was a street and ignoring Acornnose’s strange suggestion to look both ways first. He bounded up to the porch to get a better look at the eight-legged creature. It was fuzzy and really non-threatening. It had no fangs, just a pair of red beady eyes. Mouseheart tapped it with one paw; it felt lightweight, making it easy enough for the three of them to carry back. It was perfect!

“Come on!” He looked behind him as Dunnockfang and Acornnose at last joined him on the front stairs. “Let’s take it!” He grabbed one leg and pulled it from the porch. “Take!” he said through a mouthful of furry spider leg.

Acornnose grabbed one leg, Dunnockfang another, and together the three of them hauled the spider off in the direction they had come.

Briarnose couldn’t deny that she was beginning to worry. Sure, finding good decorations took time, but it felt as though it was taking longer than it should have for Mouseheart’s trio to get back.

Oh, where could they be? She hoped they hadn’t run into trouble with meddling kittypets or worse, humans.

“Don’t worry so much,” Gingerstripe said. “Mouseheart is more efficient than you give him credit for.”

“You’re right,” Briarnose said with a sigh. “He’s quite the traveller isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Gingerstripe agreed. “Stole from my bowl more than once, and I could never catch him.”

Briarnose couldn’t hold back a grin and a low huckle. “Maybe you should have been better about guarding your bowl.”

The ginger molly snorted, looking offended, but a tiny smile curled the corner of her mouth upward.

It wasn’t long after that that Tigercloud spotted the trio making their way toward the bushes where the group hid. She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that they’re carrying?”

Briarnose raised her head and slipped out from under the bush. The trio carried between them a spider nearly as large as they were, black and fuzzy, and with a tiny red eyes. She stared at them, dumbfounded and unable to keep from laughing as they padded over with the spider. “How did you ever manage that?”

“Carefully,” Mouseheart said through the spider’s leg. He and his party dropped the spider in front of Briarnose; he spit loose hair out his mouth and shook his head. “Whatca think, Briar?”

It was a moment before Briarnose managed to get herself under control. In truth, she was impressed that they’d managed to haul the spider as far as they did. “I think it’s wonderful, Mouseheart,” she said. “Let’s head back. I think we’ve got enough for now.”

The trio picked up the spider again, having worked out s good system to carry it, and followed Briarnose and the rest of the party back into Clan territory.

[disneywarriorcats]

Nightmare Arc Chapter 2

Marigoldheart gathered all the cats willing to help her in the training hollow just outside her camp. She was genuinely surprised at the number of cats who turned up, partially expecting most of the camp to be too spooked by the thought of strange cats wandering the territory to want to help her set up. But, here they were, overcrowding the clearing so much that they had begun to perch in trees.

Once she’d gotten a count of just how many cats were there, Marigoldheart began splitting them up into three groups.

“Briarnose, you’ll take a group to the neighborhood and see what spare decorations you can find there. I’m not keen on stealing from the humans, but if it seems like something they won’t miss, I’m sure it won’t be too much of an issue.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Marigoldheart,” Appleflower said, “we’ll return them at the end of the season.”

“Thank you.” Marigoldheart let out a sigh of relief. “Briarnose, pick some cats to take with you. Goldenclaw, Sparrowheart, you two will lead a group to the city. If you can find some of those small pumpkins, get them. Not too many, I don’t want trouble, but enough to go around the clearing. Take whoever you need with you.

“The rest of you, whoever isn’t going with Briarnose or Goldenclaw and Sparrowheart, come with me and we’ll start setting up the field. Larkcloud, Blueflower, Flystorm, Wysteriaflower, I’ll leave it up to you four and Ravenstorm to add any other touches you think would look nice. Come on!”

With a wave of her tail, she started off toward the field under Leader’s Hill. While it continued to remain unnamed throughout the year--they hadn’t yet come up with a fitting name--this year it would be called the Graveyard. Marigoldheart had seen humans set up tall, foam stones in their front years, lined with inscriptions she could never make sense of. She sent four groups off to the stream and surrounding forests to find tall, flat stones they could use as headstones.

The city cats didn’t fully understand, even when Kestrelstorm explained to them as best she could without losing her temper. But they complied nonetheless, and so began the task of hauling the stones out of the forest or up from the river bank and into the field.

It wasn’t as difficult as Marigoldheart might have imagined, with all the enthusiasm fueling them. Adderclaw, Molestorm, Fawncloud, and Alderwhisker began digging holes for the stones that couldn’t stand on their own.

“Perfect!” Marigoldheart bounced from stone to stone as the cats worked to get them in place. “Wonderful, everyone!” She spotted Cypressfur directing a small group, along with Redstream and Sycamoreheart. Riverkit and Windkit played nearby, setting up a small graveyard of their own with stones more manageable for their size. “Cypressfur!”

The dark ginger tom gave one last quick instruction before turning his attention to Marigoldheart. “Yes, Marigoldheart, my dear, what can I do for you?”

“Could you manage this for a few moments?” she asked. “I’d like to check on the clearing. I’m expecting Wysteriaflower and Flystorm to start arguing over colors shortly.”

Cypressfur snorted. “Oh, them! They can never come to a compromise, can they? Hmpf!” He shook his head. “Of course, Marigoldheart. I’ll take care of everything here. You go and watch them.”

She thanked him and bounded off, hearing him barking orders to a separate group attempting to lodge a flat boulder into the dirt. Marigoldheart first saw Honeycloud sitting with Tigerleap and Plumheart at the edge of the Meeting Hollow, watching as Ravenstorm and Dawnrose’s aunts and Blueflower began lighting small floating flames to drift into various positions around the hollow.

Tigerleap leaned back on his haunches and swatted lightly at a deep green flame. It didn’t hurt when he tapped it with his paw, and so he tapped it twice more before Ravenstorm hissed at him.

With a spit, Tigerleap plopped down, sticking his tongue out at the tall molly as she turned away to create another flame. “Touchy,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I wasthn’t gonna break it.”

Honeycloud, sitting beside him, looked up at the flames with calm curiosity, and tilted his head. “I don’t believe they can break, Tigerleap,” he said. He tentatively stretched up a paw and touched the base of the flame with one toe. “Hmm, no. Not breakable, I think.”

“Not breakable,” Ravenstorm hissed, “but not for touching, either. Those are delicate and I’d rather none of you knocked them into the grass and set our home alight!”

Oh! Marigoldheart blinked in surprise, sidestepping to avoid a small green flame that floated by her. She went to the trio first, none of which were cowed my Ravenstorm’s reprimand. Tigerleap was muttering something under his breath while Honeycloud sat quietly, admiring the little flames as more climbed into the sky above the clearing. “Hello, there.”

Tigerleap’s muttering stopped; Honeycloud turned to her. “Hello, Marigold. Are you enjoying the decorating so far?”

“Oh, yes,” Marigoldheart said, and looked over the flames floating in the Meeting Hollow. “They’re lovely, aren’t they?” She saw Ravenstorm narrow her eyes at the descriptor--not one she might use for her own work, but it would do.

“Yes indeed,” Honeycloud agreed. He hummed and sat back on his haunches. “We celebrated Halloween before, didn’t we, Tigger?”

The orange tabby stood up and bounced on his hindpaws. “Every year!” he said, a little too loudly.

“Quiet!” Ravenstorm hissed from across the hollow. “I can’t concentrate with all your rambling.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on them, Ravenstorm.” Blueflower sent another silvery flame into the air. “It’s their first Halloween with us, after all.”

Ravenstorm huffed. “It’s a first for many of us. And with or without Marigoldheart’s order, I will send you to another part of this forest if I hear that nonsensical blabber of yours one more time.”

Marigoldheart expected Blueflower to come back with some half-humorous remarks but instead the fluffy blue molly shrugged with a smile and sent a few more flames into the air.

Tigerleap snorted. “Who put flies in her breakfast?” It earned him a glare from Ravenstorm, whose eyes glowed dangerously. The trio shifted uncomfortably on their paws.

With that, Marigoldheart ushered them away. “Why don’t you two get together with your friends and come up with some games for Halloween night?”

“Yes,” Honeycloud said, standing. “Let’s do that. I think Palestorm had something in mind. Tigerleap.” He turned and gave Tigerleap a gentle nudge before the orange tabby turned and followed him out of the hollow.

Marigoldheart breathed a sigh of relief; while Ravenstorm wasn’t like yo harm anyone, she didn’t want to push the molly too far. She cautiously approached Ravenstorm as another flame was sent floating above her head.

“Thank you, Marigoldheart,” Ravenstorm said. She watched the flame rise, then addressed Marigoldheart again with an even stare. “Would you mind telling me where my deputy ran off to?”

Marigoldheart tilted her head in the general direction of the houses. “He’s gone with Briarnose and some others to find decorations for the Meeting Hollow.”

“Has he now?” Ravenstorm hummed, with a slight nod. “Well, I suppose it’s good for him to get out with others. Do make sure Briarnose gets him home to me in one piece.”

“I will.”

Ravenstorm grunted and said no more. Marigoldheart dipped her head and left the molly in peace with a warning glance at Dawnrose’s aunts, working on the other side of the clearing, to leave Ravenstorm in peace.

[disneywarriorcats]

Warriorized: The Emperor’s New Groove

for @mackerelgray!

Scorpionstorm: black and orange tom (Kuzco) Lavenderfrost: skinny pale blue-gray molly (Yzma) Beetleheart: large light brown tom (Kronk) Alpacacloud: large dark brown tom (Pacha) Finchfire: brown tabby molly (Chicha) Opossumpaw: small brown tom (Tipo) Squirrelpaw: tall brown tabby molly (Chaca) Mousekit: light brown tom (Yupi)

[disneywarriorcats]

Okay, so: This blog is still here and kicking and my backup plan is still an option (which I will hopefully never have to act on). Unfortunately this whole mess with tumblr has set me back in the Nightmare Arc. I was on a good roll until the new TOS got rolled out. The arc ended up on hiatus because I didn’t want to upload just to have everything ripped out from underneath me.

I had planned to have it run through Christmas, which it will, and now will very likely run through to sometime in January. It’s still getting done, it’s just taking a little longer now. Those new changes didn’t do me any good on any front, I ended up losing writing time everywhere because I was so worried about backing up my blogs and keeping everything I could.

[disneywarriorcats]

If things get That Bad, and my main gets shut down (this is a side blog), I’m planning on doing three things:

making a new gmail specifically for DWC

putting together a bunch of google docs for each arc (I’ll write them in my usual doc account and then transfer them over), so everyone can still read them outside of tumblr

making a new tumblr all together, linked to said email. Same name but with a 2 or something at the end

This discord will still be up and running if anyone wants to join that, I’ll reblog the post with the invite code.

I’m not sure about moving to other sites. I’ll have to see what happens.

[disneywarriorcats]

I’m beginning to regret not making this a main blog.

[disneywarriorcats]

Nightmare Arc Chapter List

To be amended.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five