The sparse grass rustled in the heavy winds as Wildfire slipped along the rocky path. A marten was nibbling on a blackberry that had somehow stubbornly grown among the crags of the mountain, its green leaves standing out defiantly against the gray landscape.
Wildfire had been following the little marten since dawn. It was clever, weaving through narrow spaces to avoid her, but she knew these mountains like the back of her paws. There was no escape route she didn’t have memorized, no path for prey to walk she couldn’t intercept.
For a moment, Wildfire could hear her mother whispering in her ear, “Just one pounce and a clean bite.” That had been many seasons ago when Wildfire was still a kit and Mirage hadn’t lost her eyesight yet.
Wildfire imaged she could see the dark ginger shape of her mother slipping across the rocky mountain like they had done countless times before the blindness had taken her mother. They couldn’t live in the mountains after that – there was too many dangerous falls and birds keen on picking off a weak cat.
The marten must have smelled Wildfire while she was staring into space. It squeaked in alarm and darted towards a pile of rocks. Mousedung! Hissing, the she-cat darted forward and slammed a paw on the weasel’s back, breaking it instantly. The thing went limp.
“Don’t reminisce during a hunt, featherbrain.” Wildfire hissed to herself, then smacked her paw down on the marten again. “Stupid thing. You shouldn’t have tried to escape.” She settled down to eat her prey, acutely aware that she was angry at herself and not her prey.
“Your father says warriors don’t disrespect prey.” Mirage used to always say that. A lot of good talking about silly Clans did. Wildfire’s father had abandoned them, left her and her mother do die.
As Wildfire glumly chewed her marten, her mood soured when she thought of the hardships she and her mother had faced while her father did who-knows-what. The sun was setting by the time she finished her meal and her heart had finally calmed. So what if her father ran away? Wildfire had turned out fine.
The wind suddenly changed directions, now blowing directly into Wildfire’s face. This was nothing new to her – the wind was a fickle beast in the mountains, always changing directions and raging at the slightest twitch of the whisker. However, the scents carried on the breeze was new to her.
Other cats? Wildfire’s fur prickled. As far as she knew, there weren’t any Clans around. So what was up with this group? She could tell by the variety of scents that there was at least a pawful of cats, maybe more. Her mood became sour again. Great. I come all this way to the mountains to get away from other cats, and they follow me!
For a moment, Wildfire debated following the scents. What if the cats found her den? Or scared off the prey? What if they get hurt? The mountains weren’t exactly the safest place to live.
Wildfire blinked then shook her head. “Why should I care if some strangers get hurt?” She grumbled to herself. “It’s their problem, not mine.” Still, her heart felt inexplicably heavy as she turned her back to the scents and went the long way home.
[Break]
A screech ripped through the night air, full of terror and pain. The hare Wildfire had been tracking raced away, too fast for her to catch. She cursed under her breath and whirled around, her fur beginning to prickle.
The cry had definitely come from a cat, and they were nearby. Did someone fall? Her paws were moving without her permission now. With the jagged rocks and thorny sedges, even a small fall could turn deadly.
Yet, as she drew near, Wildfire could hear the sounds of a battle. Fox? They weren’t common this high up, and no cat would be stupid enough to fight the rare bear or cougars. She slowed to a crawl as she neared, the hissing and screeching becoming louder and louder.
As she peered behind the final boulder, Wildfire’s heart dropped to her paws. It was cats fighting other cats! Mousedung. Now there were two groups of cats and one of them, and possibly both, were aggressive. She was turning to leave when she met the gaze of one of the losing cats. The cat was old, maybe even older than Mirage would be if she was still alive, and covered in deep wounds that splattered the rocks with blood.
Before Wildfire could react, the cat on top of the elderly one – a massive brute with a cruel look in his eyes – drove his claws into the cat’s neck and ripped it out. Blood sprayed like a fountain, splattering across the brute’s face in a gruesome display of power. The metallic scent suffused the air, making Wildfire’s stomach heave.
This isn’t my battle. Wildfire took a step back. I can’t help them… Yet she could see the limp, bloody body of her mother in her mind’s eye. Torn open from throat to hindlegs all over a little mouse, her insides painting the den a grisly red.
I couldn’t help her either. Wildfire dug her claws into the ground, then hissed and lunged for the brute. He was caught by surprise at her arrival and couldn’t dodge her outstretched claws in time. She clung to him like a wicked burr, biting deep into the side of his neck. Eventually, the flesh gave way and tore open. Blood flooded Wildfire’s mouth, hot and suffocating.
Wildfire then leaped away, breathing heave. The brute stared at her in shock, blood bubbling up past his lips, and tried to say something. He choked on his own blood and staggered, collapsing on the bloody ground beside the elderly cat he had slaughtered.
For the first time, Wildfire looked around the raging battle and felt suddenly sick. There were two clear sides: well-fed and muscular cats against the old and sick. They killed without mercy, even going so far as to drag a kit away from its dying mother and breaking its tiny neck.
There was a cry of fury and Wildfire was barely able to jump out of the way of a ragged she-cat with wild eyes. Her muzzle was smeared with blood, most likely from one of the pitiful cats she had attacked. “You killed him!” The cat shrieked.
Wildfire’s temper flared and she lunged for the she-cat, slamming her to the ground. “Look at you, murderer!” She snarled. Claws suddenly pierced into her back and tore her away from the cat, ripping chunks of flesh and fur out.
Shrieking in pain, Wildfire tumbled for a couple of moments before finding her paws again. Blood was spilling from her back where her attacker had torn into it, but it was superficial. I’ve had worse. She thought grimly as she prepared to rush into the fray once more.
It was a bloodbath – though the elders and sickly cats outnumbered the others, they were severely outmatched. The attackers were trained and merciless. They knew exactly what they were doing with every killing blow they delivered.
A dark-gray tom not too far from Wildfire was shrinking against a rock. He was trapped by three cats who seemed to enjoy the occasional slash at his face and paws. One of his legs was hanging limply, shards of bone sticking out from the lacerated skin. He must have crushed it under a rock.
With a cry, Wildfire flung herself at one of the three attackers. The she-cat cried out as they tumbled together, but soon got her footing again and reared up to strike Wildfire’s face. Breathless, Wildfire dove into the she-cat, slamming her head directly into the cat’s exposed belly. The cat wuffed as the air left her body before slipping backward and falling down the abyss that was the side of the mountain. Her scream was cut off with a crunch down below.
Thinking quick, Wildfire leaped onto a large pile of rocks and kicked one towards the remaining attackers. The gray cat was emboldened by her help and weakly swatted at the two, though his damaged leg prevented him from fighting much. A lovely she-cat, all skin and bones, was now standing between the gray tom. Her face had been split open by one of the cats but she was still hissing defiantly at them, crouching over the wounded tom despite the blood that dripped from her eye.
“Hey!” Wildfire smacked another rock, this one hitting one of the attackers upside the head. He spun around with a growl. “Come and fight someone your size, harehearted cowards!” Both attackers turned on her then and advanced, their wounded pride clear in their eyes.
Perfect. Wildfire slammed her paws onto the top few rocks, making sure they were dislodged before jumping away. Just as she’d planned, the stones began to wobble before falling over completely. They crushed the two attackers with sickening cracks that Wildfire could only assume were their bones breaking. She ran past the growing pool of blood that seeped from the overturned rocks and over to the tom’s side.
“You need to flee.” Wildfire hissed. “You can’t fight with that leg.”
“We have nowhere to flee!” The tom replied, his voice cracking from the pain. “This was our camp. They followed us like ticks!”
Wildfire growled and looked around. It looked like most of the attackers had become bored and were now collecting prey and herbs, spoils of victory. Cats were splayed out in piles, flies already attracted to their dead and dying bodies. Blood and viscera made the stones slick and filled the air with a sickly sweet scent.
“… fine.” Wildfire growled. “Just get the survivors out. I’ll fight if any of them try to stop you.” She stood beside the limping tom defiantly, trying to seem as strong and unwounded as possible despite the burning pain in her back.
To her surprise, the cats glared warily at Wildfire but didn’t seem to intend to fight. The wild-eyed she-cat was nowhere in sight, probably run off to tend to her wounds. Or dead. Wildfire thought grimly.
A pitiful few of the cats survived, including the lovely she-cat whose eye had been ripped open. She was helping the limping tom along, letting him lean on her so he didn’t have to put his destroyed paw down.
Wildfire could see the liquids draining from the she-cat’s eye. She’s never going to see out of it again. Her heart twisted – even being half-blind was a terrible punishment, and yet this cat was more concerned with helping her wounded friend than herself.
As the few cats filtered out of the ruined camp, Wildfire broke away to head to her own den. It took a few moments for her to realize that the cats were following her. She sped up slightly, but they were a determined bunch. They followed in silence, but she could feel their eyes burning into her back.
Biting back a sigh, Wildfire quietly relented and slowed down. It’ll only be a few days. She thought sourly. Just until they can heal up and move on.
[Break]
It was not a few days.
Paws sore and heavy, Wildfire dragged a plump hare into her den. Or rather, her shared den now. Half a dozen cats had decided to stay for more than half a moon and didn’t seem to want to leave. Though a couple, like Lilac or Sparrow, were able to hunt, the others were mostly confined to making nests and exploring the cave.
The cave that Wildfire called home was more than big enough for all the cats, though she was beginning to feel cramped now that they had all made nests right in her way. Her own nest, a long-abandoned eagle’s aerie, was set in the back of the cave on a small ledge that elevated her about three fox-lengths off the ground.
Maybe we can move their nests into one of the side tunnels. Wildfire thought, then flicked her tail. Or they can leave like they were supposed to!
Lilac noticed Wildfire first and bounded over. The gray she-cat’s eye was irreparably damaged and covered in cobwebs that smelled heavily of herbs, but despite her loss of vision she seemed determined to remain upbeat. “There you are. Was hunting good?”
“It always is.” Wildfire sighed. “Take this to Skipper, would you? He’s always whining about needing food.” She watched as Lilac’s face hardened, the she-cat tensing.
“Wildfire,” Lilac began, her voice soft but stern, “he lost his leg. He needs his energy to recover. It’s not going to be an easy process.”
“No, it won’t be.” Wildfire agreed readily. “But something tells me he shouldn’t be jumping around and trying to catch feathers if he’s still recovering.”
Lilac sighed, half ruefully and half amusedly, and tilted her head to the side. “It’s Skipper. What did you expect? He’ll never take anything seriously.”
“He’ll take getting swatted seriously the next time he falls into my nest chasing something.” Wildfire snorted, feeling herself relax. “You know what he told me? ‘Oh, I was just following the feather!’ Bah! It’s impossible to just ‘fall into’ my nest. ”
Lilac’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “Nothing is impossible for Skipper.” She took the hare and padded into the den, where a couple of other cats approached her.
Wildfire watched her go, feeling a strange twist in her chest. When was the last time she had bantered so easily? It almost felt like she had Mirage back.
As she padded into the den, a couple kits scampered up to Wildfire. “Prey?” One of them demanded.
Wildfire was at a loss for words, but then Skipper was beside them. “Hey! What did I tell you about being polite?” The gray tom winked at Wildfire before slowly bending down to nudge one of the kits with his muzzle. “I have a fat rabbit for you in my nest. Stop bothering Wildfire.”
The kits scrambled off, giggling, and Skipper turned to Wildfire, wobbling slightly on his remaining foreleg. “Kits are easily distracted.” He advised, a twinkle in his eye.
“It takes one to know one.” Wildfire twitched her whiskers. “And it’s a hare, not a rabbit.”
“Rabbit, hare, same thing.” Skipper chirped. “So, what do you think we should do about nests? I was thinking about feathers and stones.”
“Why ask me?” Wildfire said dryly. “It’s not my nest.”
“But you’re… in charge.” Skipper argued, though his tone was forever light and cheerful. “So therefore you make the decisions.”
Wildfire’s fur began to prickle uncomfortably. “I’m not-”
“Lilac!” Skipper shouted suddenly. “Do you think we should gather this glowy moss for the nests?”
“Ask Wildfire!” Was the she-cat’s distant reply from inside the cave.
Skipper’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “There, see?”
“That doesn’t prove anything.” Wildfire shot back. “And it’s luminous moss and as soon as you move it, it’ll stop glowing.”
“See?” Skipper didn’t miss a beat. “That’s why you’re in charge. You think of everything ahead of time.” He gently headbutted Wildfire’s shoulder, quite a feat for the three-legged cat. “Don’t overthink it. Besides,” his tone became playful again, “it’s not like we’re going anywhere.”
Wildfire sighed, watching Skipper hobble off. Yet, strangely, her heart felt lighter. “Not going anywhere, huh?” She huffed. “Then we’re definitely moving those nests.”