𝘼 𝙃𝘼𝙒𝙆'𝙎 𝙍𝙀𝙏𝙍𝙄𝘽𝙐𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉, warriors

──── 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

SHAKEN FROM HER dreamless slumber by her mother shifting against her, Arch blinked open her eyes, light filtering into the den and momentarily blinding her as she slowly raised her head.

     Shadow Fox was awake, ears perked up, body tensed. She curled her tail around the two kittens pressed against her, turning and nudging King awake with her nose.

     Confused, Arch batted away her mother's tail and peeked out from under it curiously, nose twitching when she suddenly became aware of something making noise outside of their little den.

     The dark ginger tabby who was her father lifted his head sleepily, muzzle fur tangled with bits of moss and pine straw which he immediately brushed away with one paw. His expression shifted when he caught sight of Shadow Fox's serious gaze, and he sat up slowly.

     "What's wrong?" He demanded, flashing his gaze to the kits she protected with her huge and fluffy tail.

     The dark brown tabby narrowed her eyes slightly. "Something's outside."

     King carefully got to his paws, nose twitching as the threatening sounds drew nearer to the den, yowling and hissing that seemed to be coming from other cats.

     Multiple.

     Arch's gaze shifted to the den entrance as she silently pawed at Jag, who was still slumbering under the cover of the dark tail laid over top of them. Her sister jerked awake, squeaking, only to go silent when she shoved a paw against her muzzle.

     Shadow Fox stared at King as the tom poked his head out of their den to see what was happening, and only when he turned back around did she speak in a voice as soft as a mouse's pawsteps.

     "What is it?"

     The small ginger tom seemed a bit surprised, his amber eyes staring down at his mate and kits. "Two groups of cats . . . approaching each other from either side of the clearing. I think . . . this might be a battleground."

     The kits' mother snapped her ears up. "Battleground? That—that can't happen! We have kits here!"

     "I don't think they care." He nudged her gently to her paws. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

     "Leave?" Jag piped up with a frown, watching Shadow Fox stagger to her feet. "We can't leave — this is our home!"

     The big dark brown molly stepped back, avoiding crushing the kits beneath her paws, and gently picked up Arch in her jaws. "Home isn't always a place, Jag — it's the cats you call your family that you come back to. And right now, being here isn't safe."

     "Are we going to die?" The elder kit demanded, squeaking when King grabbed her by the scruff.

     "Nonsense." Their father scoffed around a mouthful of fur. "No one is going to die."

     "But we need to go — now." Shadow Fox urged, her breath ruffling Arch's fur as her teeth dug gently into the skin of her neck. She pushed past King and poked her head out of the den, looking around before she began making her way toward the treeline off to the side of their home.

     Arch could smell the tension in the air — it was almost thick enough to choke on, but she wisely held her tongue, tucking her tail between her hind legs as she was carried into the bushes. A moment later, an ear-splitting screech cut through the air, sending birds scattering around them. Her head snapped around to see a large figure slam into another, taking the both of them to the ground in a tussle of fur and dust.

     King shoved Shadow Fox roughly, and the two cats sprinted for the bushes to hide from the ever-growing loudness of the fight behind them.

     Arch was dropped to the ground with an "oof" as her father shoved himself into the bush after her, setting Jag down beside her. His ginger coat obscured the kits' vision for a moment as he curled around them.