Warriors: High Tides

Chapter 11

Gorsewhisker felt uneasy as the cats approached them. There were seven in all, and they didn't look friendly. They were bristling madly, and the father felt himself rooted to the spot, ready for battle. But Harekit would fall off my back and risk injury, he told himself, fluffed up.

Bramblefoot spoke. "We come in peace," She called out, swishing her tail. "We don't want any bloodshed!"

"Go away!" The leading tom, pale gray, snarled as he raced over. "We don't want you in our farm!"

Bramblefoot faltered visibly, and Gorsewhisker's heart pounded hard in his chest. Why are you hesitating? Run!

"We don't want to be part of your farm," Bramblefoot explained. "We're just passing through on the outside."

"You're lying!" A young tom yowled. "You're coming here to steal our prey!"

"No, we're not!" Rookheart meowed, fluffing up beside Gorsewhisker. He felt black fur brush up against his own. "We're passing through!"

"Farmcats, attack!" The gray tom snarled, teeth bared with anger.

Bramblefoot launched herself off the fence as the cats started running for them. Gorsewhisker jerked and tossed Harekit from his back to his jaws and kicked off after her, just behind Thistlepaw. He could hear Ivystream just behind him; and Rookheart in the back with Waspwhisker. The wild farmcats jumped skillfully over the fence, barreling after them like the rabbits he'd chased on the moors of his birth.

Bramblefoot skirted the fence, leading them past the barn the cats had most likely emerged from. He could hear the rogues snarling savagely just a few strides behind the group of Clan Cats, and he bristled with worry. If they catch us, they'll kill us.

They reached a small trail, and Bramblefoot darted toward it, fluffed up with fear. The other cats followed the healer without question - in a life-or-death situation, there was no room for questions, after all.

They ran along the dirt line cutting through the grasses, and Harekit whimpered in his jaws as the small brown shape bumped and jerked in his grip. I hope they stop chasing soon, he thought, knowing this was bad for his son.

Bramblefoot lead them across a slightly wider trail, and for a moment nothing but Greenleaf wind buffeted him. It felt like he was about to be swept away; on WindClan soil, the wind was combed and tamed by the long grass, and chopped up by ThunderClan's forest. Here, none of that occured; just unadulterated air.

As they followed that particular Thunderpath, the farmcats followed them haphazardly, panting. Gorsewhisker's lungs felt like they were about to pop in his chest; he could only breathe through the tiny slits that were his nostrils. His mouth was stuffed with Harekit's fur.

Suddenly a bright glow blinded him. Bramblefoot stopped in front of him; Gorsewhisker skidded to a halt just after, lightly bumping into Thistlepaw.

"Keep running!" Bramblfoot called out suddenly, and bolted across an intersection where two Thunderpaths converged.

Gorsewhisker came after her, gently shoving Thistlepaw forward. Rookheart was hot on his heels, Waspwhisker just behind.

Finally they hit the other bank of the Thunderpath, and the farmcats darted into the path after them; suddenly a bright white light engulfed the whole world. He crouched instinctively, and Harekit wailed in terror. He heard a deep screech, smelled asphault and smoke, and the sound of a bloodcurtling shriek attacked his ears.

For a while nothing happened, and he dared to open an eye. The farmcats were gone; the bright light was gone. On the thunderpath was a small figure - a cat. Blood seeped from a wound on its leg.

Gorsewhisker turned, ready to re-find the two peaks, when Thistlepaw stepped out onto the thunderpath nervously. The pale brown tom lashed his tail angrily. We have a journey to complete, he thought bitterly, and Clans to found. Why are we bothering with cats that tried to kill us?

Bramblefoot stepped out with her, and together the two she-cats dragged the injured one to the side of the thunderpath. The young cat was still breathing.

Gorsewhisker put Harekit down between his forepaws. "Who cares about that one?" He growled. "That was one of the mob that wanted to kill us."

"She's just a kit." Bramblefoot meowed desperately. "Let me heal her. I promise we'll move off soon."

Gorsewhisker lashed his tail and his claws unsheathed a little. Fine, he thought angrily. But only because you can help me feed Harekit.

He watched as Bramblefoot instructed Thistlepaw on which herbs to use and which ones to be wary of while she worked. He watched with a bit of envy as she cleaned the young molly's injuries, mostly a wide cut on her flanks.

"What's wrong with her leg?" Harekit piped as he toddled over and nudged the farmcat's leg, which rolled unnaturally.

"Get away from her!" Gorsewhisker yowled, his heart leaping to his throat as his precious son came into contact with the she cat. He used one paw to scoop his young kit to him, curling his tail defensively to his body.

"She can't hurt him." Waspwhisker meowed gently. "She's unconsious."

"Still." Gorsewhisker hissed, appalled at the queen's misplaced trust. She tried to kill us, the warrior thought, and you trust her entirely? We should leave her to die for her actions and allegiance.

Finally Bramblefoot seemed satisfied with her work and stood. "She'll live, hopefully, as long as she doesn't overwork herself..."

As she spoke, Gorsewhisker stooped and picked up Harekit again, turning and stalking off. Harekit whined softly, looking back at the cats behind them.

"Gorsewhisker, where are you going?" Rookheart meowed worriedly.

"I'm done wasting my time here." Gorsewhisker hissed. "I'm going to go to the two Peaks, and find our new home, and found one of the New Clans." He flicked his tail and peered down the thunderpath before starting his way across it. "I'm not wasting my time with cats that aren't part of StarClan's plan."

He walked across the thunderpath, peering into the distance. The Two Peaks were standing straight in the midday sunlight, and he could see them even from this angle. He started walking; he turned a little and watched Rookheart and Waspwhisker cautiously cross the thunderpath and join him. Ivystream followed close behind, with Thistlepaw next to her. The last cat to leave the injured molly was Bramblefoot, peering over her shoulder before following him.

Good, he thought angrily, starting at a steady trot. We can't waste time with cats that don't like us.

He felt the wind buffet his fur, and remembered why he was traveling: for Thriftflower, for Ternpaw, for Harekit, for WindClan.

Not for the rest of them.