Incoming Storm

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Swiftkit ducked her head low, awkwardly manoeuvring around the sea of strongly muscled pelts to reach the centre of the crowd of cats. Why didn't they let me just sit in the front? Swiftkit whined inwardly as a mottled brown tail smacked into her face, and she tumbled to her side.

"Watch it!" A massive brown tom with piercing amber eyes glowered down at her.

Swiftkit let out a defiant snarl as she moved out of his way, and into yet another shape. Her vision swam with an endlessly moving sea of colours and blobs, all of which seemed to be growling at her. Swiftkit didn't care, as she shoved her way forward, sometimes dragging her paws as they collapsed to the ground, and even managing to unbalance a small brown and cream tom named Snapfang.

Foxdunged excuse for clanmates.

Swiftkit pushed herself to the outside of the mass of cats, hoping that it would help her find her way. As she looked up, Swiftkit saw the sky getting darker, marking a near end to the day that Swiftkit had been released from the Medicine Den. When I realised that my life was going to change forever.

With a final shove, Swiftkit finally found herself in air that wasn't occupied by a snarling blob. She took in a whiff of fresh air, enjoying not having to deal with the metallic scent of blood, and the musty scent of ungroomed pelts. Swiftkit dug her claws into the soft ground, scorching it until pain shot through her claw tips. With every paw step, she had felt as though she would topple over or fall into something, and now she ached with small scratches and bruises.

After she had been released from the Medicine Den, Swiftkit had become painfully aware of how her life was about to change. It wasn't that she was soon to be made an apprentice, no, that was normal. It was the fact that she would have to learn to live without very good eyesight. And no cat cared at all. Even Roachfrost only cared because it concerned her status. And now they act like nothing's changed! It all hurts so much, and they expect me to just deal with it.

For not the first time in her life, Swiftkit felt as though she was experiencing everything from a great distance. She felt small, weak, insignificant. Swiftkit turned her gaze back to the moving sea of colours, all snarling at each other, and pushing to the front. She knew that it was only herself that cared for her.

"Hey, kit!" Swiftkit jumped as a loud voice rang in her ear.

She whirled around, claws unsheathed, teeth bared to face the voice. It was a black and ginger tom, with taunting amber eyes. Swiftkit could only tell that because his muzzle was pushed arrogantly up to her face, and because she recognised his leafy scent.

Swiftkit tilted her head to one side. "Finchpaw," she eyed him coolly. "What do you want?"

Finchpaw puffed up his chest, so that it brushed Swiftkit, and purred in the most obnoxious way. "You seem to be struggling to get to the front," he chortled and jabbed a paw into Swiftkit's chest. "Why don't I help you get to the front, kitty?"

Finchpaw's sickly sweet voice enraged Swiftkit. "Just you wait until I grow into my paws," she hissed. "Then all show you, arrogant Swift-Runner apprentice!"

The ginger and black tom didn't seem to take her insult seriously, instead he laughed. "Oh, Swiftkit. Don't lecture me about being a bad Swift-Runner, when you can't even run at all."

Swiftkit bared her teeth, and bunched her muscles to spring in the direction where the fox-heart was speaking, when Finchpaw spoke up again. "You should see the scars on your face from the Tinypelt. If even the weak cats can do that to you, I can't imagine how you'll face up to me."