Warriors: High Tides

Chapter 7

It was the night of the Goodbye Gathering - that's what they had been calling it. Gorsewhisker gently groomed Harekit's head between his ears; the little brown kit squeaked happily, eagerly, kneading his father's chest. Gorsewhisker smiled softly as he turned and looked for his twelve Warrior Clanmates. The day was middle-aged, and the sun was at its highest point. I wonder what it's like to live a life only a day long, he thought absently. Born and dead in less than a few hours.

He stood, gave Harekit a final lick, and trotted over to Ryestar's den. It was unusual for the relatively young leader to sleep in so late, and he hadn't emerged even once; the warrior thought he might as well check up on him. Better that than dwell on Thriftflower and day-long lifespans, he thought bitterly. When WindClan was this tiny, there wasn't much else to do except sit in the shade and hide from all of life's worries by hiding within yourself.

He poked his head in and took a moment to locate the resting shape of his leader. "Ryestar?" He asked softly, flicking his tail back and forth.

When he got no answer, he stepped closer. "Ryestar?" He meowed, this time louder. The tawny leader's ear flicked a little and his chest heaved.

Finally Gorsewhisker reached forward and gave his Leader a hard shove. "Ryestar!" He snapped, his patience gone.

The sandy-colored tom whirled to his feet and snarled. "Get away from me!" He cried out, lashing his thin tail. Gorsewhisker skittered backward, eyes wide as the leader advanced on him.

"Ryestar," He meowed, "What's wrong with you?" He studied the skinny Leader.

Ryestar's ribs jutted out through his skin, and he shook like a leaf in a windstorm. His thin tail swung back and forth in agression, and his teeth were bared in mad anger. His eyes were unfocused, his paws unstable. Gorsewhisker backed up a little, eyes wide.

"Ryestar," He meowed desperately, "Come to your senses! You have a Clan to lead." He cried.

The pale leader leapt at him. Gorsewhisker darted out of the den, fur fluffed up. He paused just outside the den, lashing his tail as the other Warriors turned and looked at the scene in dismay.

Ryestar snarled savagely. "Take yourself," He spat, "And your kit, and leave my Clan forever."

Gorsewhisker stared at his leader in horror, and everyone gasped in shock at his words. Gorsewhisker looked to Harekit, who was shaking nervously, his youthful brain unable to comprehend what was happening.

"Ryestar..." He meowed, turning back to the sandy tom. "Come to your senses. Tonight is the Full Moon - the Goodbye Gathering, remember?"

"Goodbye is right!" He snapped. "Now take the kit and leave!" He lifted his paw and slashed at Gorsewhisker's face. The warrior ducked in time, but the starved leader took a slice from his ear.

Gorsewhisker turned, the sun turning the sky a deceptively beautiful violet. He ran and collected Harekit, gently grooming his fur so it was fluffy and warm: he was only three moons old, poor thing, and kits didn't leave the Camp until six moons. He gently scooped the kit up by the scruff and walked to the entrance of the camp, turning and looking back one last time.

Acornpaw stood, watching him leave, eyes wide. His light brown frame glowed gold in the dying sun, and Gorsewhisker sighed as he idly counted the ribs on his brother's hide. Acornpaw won't make it on this journey, he asserted in his head. He had to stay behind.

"Leave!" Ryestar snarled, fluffing up his fur angrily.

Gorsewhisker turned and trotted off, flicking his tail back and forth worriedly. Harekit shivered in his jaws, and he wondered if even he was going to survive the trip. Hunger moaned in his belly.

The grass was long and lonely. He was used to traversing the territory in small groups. Back when he was an apprentice, WindClan had been home to over two dozen warriors, queens and apprentices; back then Ryestar had been deputy, Ryeheart, under the leader Thrushstar. Life had been good back then; he distinctly remembered being a little plump on his Warrior Ceremony, sitting straight in front of his entire Clan, beside Thriftflower, the love of his life.

His heart panged as he visited Thriftflower's grave. He didn't stop, so Harekit wouldn't ask questions, but he felt like curling up and dying. He walked, forcing himself forward. I need to go and found the New Clans, he reminded himself savagely. For Thriftflower, for Acornpaw, and for Harekit!

As he reached the shore, he noticed the Full Moon was peeking above the pine trees of ShadowClan's territory, across the lake. He turned and spied movement on the Island's treebridge, and flicked his tail. Someone else had beaten him to the bite.

He walked through the pebbles, Harekit in tow, and started trotting lightly and smoothly. He sighed, his heart thrumming in his chest, nervousness causing his paws to shake.

For Thriftflower, he thought, and jumped on the log.