MOON 2.2
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The young cat looked ahead with blue eyes wide and curious. Taking a quick check-around wouldn’t be so bad, right? Maybe she could prove herself this way, she can already imagine herself bravely charging at a tresspasser, and returning to camp with a glowing warrior spirit. She let the vision waver in her mind, grinning to herself.
“I won’t be long.” She meowed. “I’ll be quick! And super duper stealthy.”
———
A bit eagerly, she bounded along the prey trail. Squirrels, voles, mice, rodents of the sorts that she had been learning about. But at any time she turned her head down to gaze at the bloody little bodies, a pair of black little eyes gazed back at her. Dead. It honestly made her wonder if all smaller animals were afraid, too, of what lies for them after death. Do they have their own religion, separate from The Wood? What other hope do they have?
…Or were they so afraid of death, that they abandoned any hope for an afterlife, because they were too scared of what came next?
Snowypaw continued to tread forward. Whoever hunted down these small animals must’ve had plenty of time to do that, she might’ve passed at least seven already. But she was still in the forest, nowhere near what she was expecting. And it became more clear that she wasn’t going anywhere special, she’s reached the last prey.
Now this was certainly not like an ordinary little rodent, not even close to one. Larger body, small claws, long limbs. She sniffed the bite marks on it, a brown hare. It wasn’t impossible for a cat to catch one, but at the same time, it wasn’t as easy as swallowing the very thing. They were quick, always on their feet, and always on the edge. Everything was a threat to them. And their eyes said it all. Always the eyes. They were huge and soulful and aware of everything. Looking at its eyes now, it was like looking at a reflection. After all, Snowypaw was also a little thing.
The only thing left was to wait for a sign. So she stood her ground, steady, balanced, prepared. No way was she going to back down if she’s reached this far. The young silver cat had a determined face put on, and it read that she was fearless.
“I’m done! I followed your silly trail!” She called out, but silence was the only response she got. “Now come and face me and we’ll fight!”
Her tail lashed behind her and she extended out her claws. She circled around the hare with her back arched, eyes darting around her surroundings. The world was bigger than her, and if she wasn’t driven by the courage she built up within her body, she’d feel so small right now.
“I said come out! You wanted me here! Here I am!” She yelled louder. Much so that she barely heard the leaves waving behind her.
In an instant, she felt sharp claws dig into her back, and she opened her mouth to unleash a painful yowl. Snowypaw fell to the floor, pinned by heavy weight, staggering to lift herself up. Given no time to think, her first response was to fight back. With faltering strength, using what little energy, she held up and tried bucking the intruder off. Her whole body lashed and jerked and did all that could be done to escape, blood was starting to trickle down from her neck and back, her throat began to close up. But she fought. Now, the only thing on her mind was to run. To defend herself, but to run. As soon as she could feel the claws loosen up, it would be the first thing she would do.
But the claws did not even budge off of her fur. They sank deeper, heavier. She threw herself in an effort to throw them off, it nearly worked. Her moons of training did something right. But this wasn’t training - she was really going to die.
Intense pain shot her at the back of her neck, a large bite clamped down onto the side of her neck and tugged hard. The jaws tore apart her fur and flesh like she was weak prey, claws scratching at her shoulders. The intruder yanked her down to the grassy floor, green and red. Blood emerged from her neck.
Snowypaw tried to calm her breathing, control herself, so she could get up and run away back home where she could be safe. But she can’t. She wasn’t safe. She never was. She was meant to die like any other animal. And die in fear.
She stared up, the blue sky above her being swallowed up by darkness in her vision. And the world was suddenly so, so cold.
———
“Awake, little cat.”
Snowypaw awoke, standing up to her paws. Stiff, but there was life in her eyes again, and the coldness that encased her body had departed.
She looked and she saw. A sparkling world surrounded her. The world she always saw in her many dreams. This was clearly no forest. She could tell because there were no words that could be sought out in the world to properly describe what she was seeing. Twinkling blue with no moon, heavenly lights without sun, it was a land of great celestial magnitude and prospering of an otherworldly aura that tickled her senses until they were just a numbing feeling. Her ground felt soft, but no grass below. The path laid ahead looked like a long glowing path, and every step engulfed her paws.
“Brave Snowypaw, please do not fret.”
The young cat jumped around and met face to face with the looming divine flame in the shape of a cat. That was new in her dream. She’s heard this voice before, but never seen. The presence of it was burningly bright, she backed away, tail bristling, eyes widened despite the immense power enlightening her rounded face.
“We are expecting you, but not just yet.”
“Not yet?” She repeated it as if she did not understand what it said. “I died?”
“Not quite so.” The ‘cat’ tilted its head. “You are still above the snow.”
“I don’t know what that means.” She was being truthful. “Wait!” She suddenly protested, before it could vanish. “What happened? What killed me?”
The cindering cat did not answer, it looked at her. Then it cooed like a dove.
“Not a stranger, not an intruder has brought your end.” It said, now more firmly. “The cat you know is not your friend.”
Hearing those words made her heart sink a bit. She almost spoke back to question it, but it had more to say.
“Your healer will die. So answer the calls. Listen to our words. Or allow your clan to fall.”
Her vision blacked out once again. Only this time, there was a ringing in her ear. The same ringing after every dream.
You are not one of them.
You are not one of them.
You are not one of them.
You are not one of them.
———
Snowypaw laid atop a nest of moss, leaves, and a few white flowers. She blinked, taking in the family scents and sights. She was back at the new camp, and she was pretty sure she was in the healer’s den. Just then, she winced harshly. Her legs ached and her neck hurt terribly. Using bands of long, thick grass, with cobwebs to stick together, soft moss was bandaged on her neck and tied around to stay in place. But that didn’t calm the hurt all over. At least blood wasn’t leaking out anymore.
Her vision was blurry, she must’ve been asleep for who knows how long, but she saw Gladetrail, the plump brown striped cat with her in the den. From hearing her hiss, the older she-cat turned her head.
“Good morning. How do you feel?” She asked the young cat.
Snowypaw blinked again, a little disoriented, but she understood her. In fact, she understood her so well that she could not believe how well-composed she was to her situation.
“How do you think I feel?!” Snowypaw lashed out. The cat almost stood up, but it ached her to even try moving a muscle. “I almost died! I feel horrified!”
As she went on, another voice joined in. “She’s alive?” Riverleaf bounded into the healer’s den, eyes welling up and shouting with joy. “Snowy! You’re alive!”
He crouched down beside the silver cat, tucking his tail around hers and resting his head on her shoulder. Snowypaw softened up, and she wasn’t angry–not as angry anymore. Even with those feelings pushed aside, she wanted to hiss at her father, and berate him for not being there when she was attacked. Why wasn’t he there? He promised to be watching her. Rather than feeling comforted, she felt a little lost from where she was.
“I’m so sorry, Snowypaw. I’m so sorry.” He went on. “I don’t know how I lost sight of you. I can’t even imagine what must’ve happened. This is all my fault.” Snowypaw silently agreed with him. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”
Thereafter, familiar cats would step into the healer’s den, all with smiling faces. She should be used to it, but this time around, it felt weird getting all the attention.
“So she is back up!” Dawnburst meowed, coming into view. “Are you feeling better, kit?”
The young cat opened her mouth but was interrupted by a lick in her ear, the brown cat Twigfreckle. “I always knew that you’d wake up! All of us did.”
“Me and Gladetrail.” Frosteye crept in between the two cats. “We found your body while we were on an herb patrol. We took you back to camp, but you looked…” His voice stammered, like he was holding back on morbidly describing the scene.
“Your wounds were very deep on your neck and shoulders.” Gladetrail remarked. “And your body had traces of wolfish smell.”
Snowypaw’s blue eyes widened. “A wolf attacked me?”
“Maybe.” She told her. “If that’s what you saw.”
“That explains why I was smelling dog in parts of the forest.” Riverleaf’s ears twitched. “I thought it was just the Twolegs bringing with them dog-pets. But if there are wolves…”
“They could come to camp!” Twigfreckle sprang up. “What if they’re already invading our territory?”
“Maybe now that half of our land has been destroyed, they could try to overpower us.” Riverleaf mewed solemnly.
“They won’t do that.” Leader Fawnstar emerged. She had the entire clan’s attention. “Our patrols drove them to the mountains—The Arches. And they haven’t shown up since.”
“Our numbers were strong then.” Dawnburst reminded her. “The wolves must’ve heard about the fire. They could take advantage of our limitations.”
He was given a stern look from Fawnstar. “That’s only if word is spreading. And you haven’t been sharing our weakness to your out-of-clan friends, have you?”
“No!” The ghost-black tabby’s fur bristled. Fawnstar looked skeptical.
“From now on, no one leaves camp alone.” Fawnstar declared.
Riverleaf nodded. He stood upright and tall over Snowypaw’s body. “It’s for the best.”
“But.” Snowypaw went silent once all eyes focused back on her, so much they were boring holes in her. She stuttered. “Wh-What about my… I-I was supposed to…” Was it even worth it to talk about the assessment anymore?
“We’ll get to it soon. Trust me.” Riverleaf insisted, giving her a reassuring lick on the side of her ear. “But you have to understand why we can’t go forward with that now. It’s just not safe.”
Snowypaw made an irritable whine, to which Riverleaf rested his tail over hers. He still cared. She always knew he did, but why wasn’t he there to save her? Why only Gladetrail and Frosteye?
As she thought about Gladetrail, her eyes turned to look at the brown sokoke cat, and she made an inaudible gasp. The memory of her dream lingered in her mind. The figure, the warning… Was Gladetrail really to die?
“She’s had enough.” Gladetrail spoke up among the other cats. Snowypaw nearly jumped, she thought the elderly healer must’ve read her mind somehow. “All visitors—family and friends—are to leave now.”
And with that, the cats, practically the entire clan, all padded out of the den. But Riverleaf stayed for a minute to give Snowypaw one last embrace, crouching to sit his chin on her shoulder, and shortly like the rest he left the two in peace.
“Now, then.” Gladetrail spoke. “Take all the rest you need. I’ll be checking on your wounds and cleaning it for the next few moons. Let me know if there is anything I can help with.”
The brown she-cat gave the cat a kind pat on the head with her paw. Snowypaw felt less worrisome, but the thought remained in the back of her head. She laid there, watching her healer sit by herself at the other side of the den. Newleaf meant new stocks, and she was happily arranging the new herbs and sorts that she had been bringing all moon long. But her little ears were attentive, constantly fidgeting, not out of fear for an inevitable death, but out of care for others and if she senses something is wrong—care for her and for what troubles her.
There were so many things troubling Snowypaw right now, but she couldn’t say any one of those troubles. She nearly died, now, she’s hearing that their only healer is going to die. ‘Just another dream’ she tried calming herself. But again with that same excuse, it did not soothe her perplexity.
The image of the shining, immaculate cat-like flame lingered in her mind. Her eyes were sore enough, one more look at the physical presence and she could’ve gone blind herself. Still, what it told her, it was surely a warning. A warning for what? From who?
From Starclan? That must be the case. But why give it to her? A little thing?
