It had been a quarter moon since the cats had begun building the cage. In that time they had managed to make the walls up to their bellies.
But they had run out of brambles. Which meant while Nighthawkflicker and Madtomtuft went hunting, Cowbirdsoar and Brambleclash were gathering.
The two older cats decided to gather near the forest, where the Flurryclan and Grouseclan border markers used to be. There, they found some brambles, but there weren’t enough to really help.
“We could always actually go into the forest.” Brambleclash suggested.
Cowbirdsoar scraped at the dirt. “I don’t know. Even if the markers aren’t there... it’s still Flurryclan territory.”
“If Flurryclan is here, they are probably in hiding too.” She put her tail on his back. “Which means that they won’t exactly notice if we take some of their brambles.”
If. The word felt rotten. If Flurryclan were still here. If the clans hadn’t been irreparably shaken by this tragedy. Cowbirdsoar swallowed down his unease. “Fine, but we go no further than two fox-lengths, okay?”
“Okay.”
The forest was darker than the open field they had come from. The thick trees spread their branches high above the cats' heads, weaving together a green canopy. The forest floor was no better. All kinds of plants fought for what little sunlight made it through the leaf cover. But there were no bramble bushes. At least none that they could see.
Cowbirdsoar frowned. “We’ll have to go deeper.”
“Don’t act so down, we’ll find those brambles.” Brambleclash bumped her head into his shoulder.
He pulled away from her touch. The whole situation made his pelt crawl. He was trespassing like a rogue. Even if they needed these brambles, what would Starclan say? Would they finally talk to him just to admonish him?
“It’s not the brambles I’m worried about,” he said under his breath. He raised his voice so that she could hear him. “Let’s just get it over with.”
The two walked silently through the undergrowth. It was incredibly quiet, which just added to the tension.
Cowbirdsoar spotted a bramble bush growing by a younger oak tree. He nudged Brambleclash before moving to the bush. Together, they used their claws to dig and pull out the bush. Their trespass would be worth it after all.
Behind them, they heard a single, almost quiet word, “Protect.” That was all the warning they got.
TW BODY HORROR AND GORE (Images and descriptions)
The infected cat was incredibly fast. She closed the distance between them in the time it took them to turn around. Unlike the other infected Cowbirdsoar had seen, she was bulbous. Her stomach protruded from beneath her; the skin stretched and raw, with little skin spikes pushing out in every direction. Her eyes were just green pinpricks lost in her flesh, while her ears and snout seemed little more than spikes sticking out. She wheezed as she stood before them; her too-long tail curled awkwardly over her belly.
“Protect.” She muttered again. She raised one of her great paws. Both Brambleclash and Cowbirdsoar scattered before she could slam it into them.
“We have to get out of here!” Brambleclash called from further away.
Cowbirdsoar caught up to her. “No, we have to contain her!”
“Are you crazy?”
“She could be our key to the cure.” He pleaded, “Brambleclash, we can’t lose this chance.”
“Fine!” Brambleclash turned back to the infected. Cowbirdsoar followed suit.
Brambleclash launched herself onto the back of the infected. She dug her claws into the skin.
The infected hissed and thrashed. Cowbirdsoar attempted to trip her. But she just stomped on him. Her claws dug into his side. He struggled. Brambleclash bit into the infected’s neck, tearing the skin.
She reared up on her back legs. Cowbirdsoar managed to slip out, but this left Brambleclash at the infected’s mercy.
The infected slammed her claws into Brambleclash. She hissed out and swiped at her neck. It did nothing. Cowbirdsoar threw himself back into the fight.
The fat is protecting her from our claws. He slashed her legs. If she has a weak point... her tail hasn’t left her stomach. If there’s a chance.
"Aim for her stomach!” He yelled at Brambleclash.
She moved away from the infected’s neck and raked her claws against the stomach. It was as if she had punctured an engorged tick.
The infected popped, her stomach burst open, and her organs fell out with a horrific plop. She fell limp on top of the viscera. Her pinprick eyes rolled back into her head.
Cowbirdsoar wretched.
Brambleclash wiped her claws against the grass. She looked as sick as he felt.
He moved to comfort her, but another sound caught his attention.
Quiet, helpless meows.
No. He shook in his pelt. Please, Starclan, not kits.
He headed towards the sound. Just past the bramble bush, there they were. Two one-moon-old kittens. The infected’s litter. But they were nothing like her. They were beautiful, perfectly healthy kits. One had a brownish pelt like his, while the other was pure white, just as her mother’s fur had been.
He fell to the ground. I killed their mother. I could have saved her; I could have given her a chance. He pressed his claws hard into the ground. I ruined their family. Tears fell from his eyes. Starclan forgive me. He crept into the nest and curled around the frightened kittens. He would atone. These kits would have a family.
