Warriors: High Tides

Chapter 12

Bramblefoot watched the final rays of sunlight travel down between the Two Peaks. They had been greatly set back since the farmcats had chased them down, in the opposite direction of the Two Peaks.

Thistlepaw followed her closely at the back of the group, and spoke softly. "What's wrong with Gorsewhisker?" She meowed.

"He's lost a lot." Bramblefoot explained gently. "His mate, Thriftflower, died; and Ternpaw was his sister. He only has Harekit left."

Thistlepaw nodded slightly and flicked her tail slowly back and forth as they walked. Bramblefoot remembered when she was still an apprentice under the former Medicine Cat, named Nightcloud. Prey had been plentiful, and she'd had time to play, think, chat. She realized that the queens of the Clans they were leaving behind were carrying suffering kits: they would be raised to be hunting machines, have no imagination. I wouldn't be surprised if the art of healing died off all together, she thought silently. The idea made her shudder, but she would understand why it would die off. Medicine Cats generally didn't hunt prey, but rather herbs.

She sighed in relief as Gorsewhisker found a spot for them to rest, under a large rock that had most likely fallen in a longago landslide. She felt the ground below her grow hard with pebbles and rocks; she felt uncomfortable. Hopefully the land between the two Peaks would be smooth and soft.

She settled herself under the rock, just barely comfortable. She remembered her comfy den back in ThunderClan. If only we didn't have to leave...

A paw jabbed into her ribs. She jumped up and smashed her head on the roof of the makeshift den, lashing her tail. "Ow!" She cried.

Gorsewhisker stood above her coldly. "You should be hunting, Bramblefoot." He said calmly. "All cats should be hunting on this Journey." He hissed.

Bramblefoot flicked her tail back and forth and stood up, nodding. She didn't want to question him; the icy sheen on his green eyes made her nervous.

She stalked out as Rookheart left the den. She watched as Gorsewhisker nudged Ivystream as well, and started talking to Waspwhisker. At first she thought he was going to leave as well; but then he sat down.

He's going to make us hunt, Bramblefoot thought bitterly, when he isn't even willing to hunt himself?

She lashed her tail and caught the sound of a mouse shuffling around in the woods. She flicked Thistlepaw's side and motioned toward it; she would watch her apprentice first, for she had been a Warrior apprentice first.

The small blue-gray molly fell to her stomach and stalked forward, before suddenly leaping forward. She heard a small struggle, and then watched proudly as her apprentice came out with a rather large mouse.

"Good job." She purred softly, flicking her ears. "Let's see if I can find anything. Bury that and mark it with your scent, and we'll come back for it later." She purred gently.

They walked through the half-woods, listening carefully to the world around them. All of a sudden she felt pressure on her side, and all the breath in her lungs was knocked out.

A paw rested on her throat, and she felt weight on top of her. For a moment she couldn't breathe, and so she opened her eye to gaze into what she was certain was her untimely demise.

Above her stood a heavyset cat, a brown tabby with scars all over him. He smelled of no Clan (which wasn't surprising, really), and seemed very... feral.

"Wh- Who are you?" Bramblefoot wheezed. She turned her head a little bit and saw another cat, solid brown, holding down Thistlepaw.

"My name is Leaf. That over there is Eagle." The tom growled gruffly. "Who are you and what do you want?" He demanded.

"M- my name is B- Bramblef- foot..." She croaked out. "T- that is T- Thistlep- paw..."

Leaf leaned back and took his paw off her throat, and she sucked in a deep breath. "What are you doing here? You have strange names and strange scents."

Bramblefoot rolled on her stomach and coughed, scrambling to her paws. "We come from the Lake Clans." She meowed. "Specifically, ThunderClan."

Both toms faltered nervously, and Eagle stepped forward. "The Clans?" He meowed worriedly. "The big groups of cats that hunt and fight as one?"

"The very same." Bramblefoot meowed, twitching her tail. "Why?"

"We... we didn't know." Leaf meowed worriedly. "We thought you were trespassers..."

"For what?" Thistlepaw mewed curiously. "We didn't smell any scent marks."

Leaf blinked. "Scent marks?" He asked. "We've never heard of those."

Bramblefoot spoke before Thistlepaw could elaborate. "We've come with cats from the other three Clans as well. We're looking for a new home to move to. We've overhunted our Lake territory."

Leaf and Eagle glanced at each other. "The Tribe would know what to do," Eagle meowed curiously.

"The Tribe?" Thistlepaw mewed curiously. "Who are they?"

"A group of cats kind of like a Clan," Leaf said with a shy smile. "They live up in the mountains, close to the Sunlit Pass." He meowed.

The Sunlit Pass? Bramblefoot wondered before looking up. The sun's rays cut through the distant split peaks. They must be talking about the Two Peaks!

"Come back with us," Thistlepaw purred eagerly. "We could use your lead."

Both cats bristled a little. "We could show you to their borders," Eagle meowed, "But no farther. They don't like cats outside their Tribe."

Bramblefoot nodded slightly and started walking, flicking her tail as she thought about Gorsewhisker. He's probably still in the den, she thought, laying down while we hunt and put ourselves in danger.

She walked through the thin woods until they found the makeshift den. Thistlepaw had picked up her mouse on the way back.

Indeed, Gorsewhisker was still talking with Waspwhisker; Ivystream had returned as well, and was snoozing silently. Rookheart was just returning with a small squirrel.

Gorsewhisker looked up and instantly pulled Harekit to him. "Why are they here?" He immediately growled, getting up, fur puffed.

"Leaf and Eagle." Bramblefoot meowed. "They're going to show us through the Two Peaks so we can visit a Tribe."

Gorsewhisker's pupils grew wide. "No! We can't trust these cats." He snarled. "See sense, Bramblefoot. They're ferals, these ones. They can't be allowed with us."

"You're too defensive, Gorsewhisker," Waspwhisker meowed, standing up and shaking her fur out. "We need the directions. We won't find the territories for the New Clans without a sense of direction."

Bramblefoot nodded. "If we can't trust them, then we'll fight them off." She meowed. "Don't worry, Gorsewhisker. Harekit will be safe among us."

Gorsewhisker scowled at the two newcomers. "Fine. But they're not allowed into the den." He growled, returning into the den.

Bramblefoot sighed softly. Who died and made him leader? She thought grumpily, but complied and crawled into the den. She wondered if he would've acted this way if they hadn't left the Clans. Probably, she thought with a vague snort.

And so she fell asleep.