ᴍᴀʀʀᴏᴡ ʀᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ [warrior cat fanfiction]

IV

I hear words in clips and phrases; I think sick like ginger ale.

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Cedarpaw couldn't remember how he'd ended up in the water. All he knew was that if he stopped churning his paws, he'd sink.

Or was it even water? The water in the rivers wasn't usually like this, all sticky and dark as if you'd liquified malice. The water in the rivers never felt like it was trying to drown you.

His head spun, another crashing wave sending him beneath the surface. He struggled desperately, resisting the urge to yowl. At least until he could breathe again.

He managed to break the surface, gasping and thrashing his paws. He glanced desperately towards the riverbank, but all he could see in each direction was more and more water. Wasn't there land somewhere?

His eyes suddenly met with another pair. At least, he thought—hoped—it must be another cat's eyes. It could be a fox for all he cared, as long as something, anything, would just get him out of the water.

He paddled furiously towards the eyes. There must be land, or a stone to rest on. Anything would be better than this. Because Cedarpaw was not going to drown. Not here, not as long as he still had a scrap of fight left in him.

The eyes vanished before he was halfway towards them.

"Cedarpaw? Cedarpaw!"

The weight of a large, furry projectile crashing full-force into Cedarpaw knocked both his dream and the wind out of him. He let out a decidedly undignified sound that was some combination of a grunt and a squeak in response.

"Firepaw, don't crush him!" Palepaw cried, sounding genuinely distressed.

"I tried to tell you the oversized furball doesn't know his own strength," Robinpaw teased dryly.

Some semblance of feeling returning to him, Cedarpaw slowly opened his eyes. The avalanche of bright ginger fur to his left and right was obviously Firepaw. Robinpaw and Palepaw were watching him, both seeming relieved by his coming to.

"You know, I can handle being woken up," he grumbled, "but I think I draw the line at being suffocated in my nest."

"Sorry," Firepaw replied sheepishly, stepping lightly off him. "You were tossing and turning in your sleep. Palepaw thought you were having a nightmare."

Cedarpaw rolled his eyes, forcing himself to stand up and stretch. Whether it was because of his dream or Firepaw's unexpected tackling, every part of his body felt tired and stiff.

I didn't stay up that late, so why do I feel as if I swam the whole river ten times?

"You're not hurt, are you?" Firepaw added anxiously. "Really, I wasn't trying to be so heavy."

"I think I'll live," Cedarpaw assured him, giving his friend a warm tail-flick to try and signal there were no hard feelings. "Honestly, I was having a pretty bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Robinpaw asked, curling around him.

"Nah, it was nothing," Cedarpaw decided. "Dreams are just dreams. It spooked me a little, but it's not like it can hurt me."