Warriors: High Tides

Chapter 3

Gorsewhisker trudged his way back to WindClan's camp with Ternpaw slung loosely over his back. StarClan's message kept zooming through his head between the long streams of grief. Leave the territories. Find new hunting grounds. Found new Clans. Less hunger. These thoughts were attractive to him. He couldn't save Ternpaw - but he could save others in her memory. He flattened his ears, looking at the skinny form of Ryestar as they returned to WindClan's camp.

He sighed softly as he set Ternpaw down. The eight warriors that hadn't gone to the Gathering - they only had twelve warriors total now - shot forward, eyes wide with horror, as did the apprentices that were still awake.

"Ternpaw!" A soft voice cried as a small golden brown tomcat came racing forward. Acornpaw was Gorsewhisker's younger brother and Ternpaw's littermate. He was also now the last survivor of five kits.

"She's dead, Acornpaw," Gorsewhisker murmured sadly, putting the small black-and-white apprentice on the ground. She'd chosen to become a Medicine Cat when she realized her fur color would make her a terrible hunter, and she had a good eye for herbs. But then their Medicine Cat, Tawnynose, had died of weakness recently; She had been getting her training from Poppystep.

"How?" The young tom wailed, tail curled under his haunches, one paw raised as if to poke her, to see if she moved. "Did someone murder her? Was she sick?"

"No, she... She fell." Gorsewhisker sighed. "She was standing atop the Great Tree and when she tried to climb back down..." He curled up around his two siblings. "... the fall was too much for her."

Ryestar stepped on top of the large mound that was their Highrock. He then sat down and called out to the Clan; or, what was left of it. Unwilling to leave their sister's body, Gorsewhisker and Acornpaw didn't move.

Once the Clan was assembled, Ryestar spoke. "We have lost many in these last few moons. Our deputy, both medicine cats, our elders." Gorsewhisker flinched as he thought of his mother and father. "But StarClan has sent us a prophecy that means there is still hope somewhere in the world. They desire one or two cats to leave camp, with cats from the other three Clans, and find new territories."

"We're going to move out of the valley?" One of the apprentices cried, ears flat.

"Not all of us. StarClan wants these chosen cats to found new Clans; they want the travelers to return, collect cats from the Clans, and leave with them. This will half the Clans' numbers while sparing death."

Gorsewhisker finally stood. "I'm going to check on Thriftflower," He meowed, turning toward the Nursury.

"Gorsewhisker, no-!" Acornpaw cried, but it was too late, and Gorsewhisker pushed his head through the entrance to the nursury.

His beloved mate, Thriftflower, was gone. She lay on the floor of the den, lifeless, unmoving. Three moon-old-kits lay curled at her belly, small bodies skinny. One of them still lived; the other two were in the same state as Thriftflower.

A shriek came from his throat. He didn't know where it came from, but he screamed bloody murder as he backed away from the nursury, pale fur on end. Acornpaw walked over to comfort him, but all he could see was Thriftflower's lifeless corpse inside the den, with their two precious kits - Tigerkit and Grousekit - lay dead alog with her. Only the oldest kit, Harekit, survived, and looked up when he heard his father shriek. His head bobbed and shook with weakness.

Everyone knew what was wrong the moment they saw his face. Thriftflower was gone, as was their kits. He let out a breathless sob, eyes round with horror. What did he have to live for, other than Harekit?

"Ryestar." He turned hollowly to the ginger Leader, ears pressed forward. "I'd like to leave on the Full Moon. I will take Harekit with me."

Immediately this caused an uproar. "Take a kit on a perilous journey!" "How selfish - how dangerous!" "What is he thinking?" "Hunger must be making him dilerious."

Ryestar paid no mind to their words. "Are you sure you would like to do this?"

Gorsewhisker nodded slowly. "I want to take Harekit far away from here. Where there's food, and where he can have a fresh start in life. Where he doesn't have to grow up watching WindClan starve."

Ryestar nodded slowly. "Alright." Gorsewhisker flinched as he sensed Acornpaw's gaze rest painfully on him. When he turned to his little brother, he could see the question in his eyes: Why would you leave me here to starve?

Gorsewhisker padded over and gently touched his nose to Acornpaw's head. "I'm sorry, little brother, but I want to save Harekit. When we find a home, I'll come back, and you can come with me to the new Clan."

Acornpaw sniffed sadly and nodded, eyes drifting to the dusty ground, tail curled under his haunches. "Okay. Please come back. Please don't leave me here forever."

"I won't." Gorsewhisker soothed. "Now go get some sleep; we have a lot of hunting to do tomorrow."