Post by LιθΠΗΣαRτεD on Jul 19, 2015 17:59:24 GMT
The small russet she-cat slunk reluctantly away from the strong-smelling border, and gazed ruefully across to the lush forest. There had to be so much food in there; it was greenleaf, and the prey, like the alley cats, had started to multiply in number. Kirby swallowed her hungriness away, and settled into a crouch, waiting, hoping, for some prey to stray across the border. She closed her eyes and tilted her head upwards, letting the sun bathe her pelt in a comfortable, savory warmness.
"Hey, who are you?" said a sharp voice.
Kirby opened her eyes, startled. Across from her stood a splay-legged, green-eyed, ginger she-cat, trying to look fierce, but looking more frustrated than so. Perhaps it was because Kirby had strayed so close to the Clan border, but had not yet gone over yet, so she couldn't attack her. Kirby smirked, gathered what remained of her personal pride, and stood up. "Hello," she said pleasantly.
"What are you doing here, rouge?" spat the other she-cat.
"I'm Kirby," Kirby introduced, tilting her head. She did not want to provoke an argument; she might be stealing prey from here soon, and she did not want anyone to be hating her more than they did already, because of their prejudices. "Who're you?"
"Why do you want to know? And I asked first!"
"Fine, then, I'll answer; I'm just trying to hunt," Kirby replied. "I haven't gone over the border or anything. I can smell it, okay?" Her father, Lightning, had taught her everything: how to disguise her scent among ferns, how to climb the trees to avoid the straying eyes of the Clan warriors, how to sneak by in bushes and tall grass, and how to jump from spot to spot without making a sound. All of his experience had come from experimenting endlessly; he had devoted his life to thievery, for the sole need to stay alive and support him and Kirby. For that, she was forever thankful of him. She could sense her learned skills faltering; she would be asked to leave any moment, if not already.
She did not know where her father, who had really been her uncle, was. Two moons ago, when he'd gone out for his usual evening hunt, he had not come back. Kirby had waited for a long time, and now had no choice but to assume him dead. A small glimmer of hope still shimmered in her chest, but everyone who was acquainted with them had told her they'd last seen Lightning at the Clan border, waiting for a chance to dart in. She did not believe he had ditched her to join the Clan. It wasn't like him; he would have brought her. After waiting a quarter-moon, she had to accept the fact that she would have to move on, and support herself.
"Well, don't cross the border, obviously; I'm also trying to hunt, so stay out of my way," the she-cat sneered. Frowning for a moment, she cocked her head. "You must be the daughter of that russet tom we killed some moons ago."
Kirby's heart seemed to drop. "R-russet tom....? What did he look like?"
"Mm, like you," the ginger she-cat said in an exaggeratedly thoughtful way, as if the murder had been a small, everyday thing, and she was trying to dig out the particular memory from her head. "Green eyes, I think... kinda skinny..."
"You monsters!" Kirby gasped, choking up. So Lightning had died. At the claws of these heartless cats. So the stories about them were true. These were feral cats who had no mercy, no space, for anyone outside of their so-called Clan. She had wanted to be like them so much when she had been young, even asking Lightning everyday when she was old enough to join. Now, she saw nothing but an enemy across the border. "How could you?"
"My father killed him," the ginger she-cat said somewhat proudly; Kirby snarled, wanting to rip the leer off her face. "He trespassed multiple times on our territory, stealing our prey. He wouldn't stop, you know? So we had to kill him."
"You fox-heart! I hate all of you!" Kirby couldn't stop herself, and launched herself at the ginger she-cat. Surprised, she let out a yowl as Kirby's claws pierced the skin beneath her fur. The two she-cats fell to the ground in a whirlwind of teeth and claws. Kirby was furious. Her one and only kin she had, before her father had passed away. Lightning had broke the news to her a couple moons before he'd died; her real father had also been killed by one of the Clan warriors. Kirby wouldn't have been surprised if it had been the same cat, the ginger she-cat's father, leader of the creatures.
"What's going on here?" asked a sharp, cold voice. A larger, older, male version of the ginger she-cat slid out of the woods, his cold amber eyes fixed on the two tussling she-cats. With one spring, he landed nimbly beside them, and roughly hauled Kirby's skinny form off of his daughter.
Kirby felt the powerful muscles rip her away from her opponent. Her claws flailed in the air, just missing the ginger tom's scowling face. Pinning Kirby to the ground by her throat, she writhed on the ground as the ginger tom examined her, his eyes narrowed.
"I thought we killed you!"
"You killed my father," spat Kirby, looking directly into the smirking ginger face with as much hate as she could muster.
There was a gasp from behind them. "That was your father...?" the ginger she-cat stammered. Even her own father looked rather uncomfortable.
"Yes that was," Kirby snarled, trying to push against the tom's huge paw. His grip had slacked unconsciously, and she managed to wriggle out, backing away across the border. "Bet you fox-hearts didn't know he had a daughter to support, eh? What about your stupid code? And your StarClan? What do they have to say?"
"Gingerstar..." the she-cat breathed out. "I'm so sorry," she said, stepping forward in front of her father to address Kirby. "We didn't know."
"Oh yeah?" demanded Kirby. "What if Lightning wasn't my father? Would you just have killed him, then, right on the spot? Forget it, it's too late. I hope you never get into StarClan. You're a disgrace to your Clan," she spat at Gingerstar, who was looking aghast. "And you're leading the rest of them into disgrace. No wonder others speak badly about you. We're all here to survive, mouse-brain. Some of us just have it more difficult. But that doesn't mean you kill them. You tell them to stop, and they'll do it. I bet you never even uttered the word 'stop' to him, did you?" Fuming, she stalked off. It would've been better to not steal from a such a place.
But the next day, she realized that she had no choice. Reluctantly, she crept through the trees, returning to the border once again. Shame almost overwhelmed her as she made her away along the border, keeping her eyes out for warriors.
However, there was a mouse lying across the border. Kirby looked out into the forest, scanning for the source that had so willingly given her the prey. Was this meant to be an apology? If it was, whatever. It didn't change anything.
But she didn't see the amber eyes of Gingerstar. Instead, bright green eyes, the only thing distinguishing the ginger she-cat from her father, peered out through a bush. Nodding curtly to her, Kirby picked up the mouse and left, heading towards the city that she called home.
"Hey, who are you?" said a sharp voice.
Kirby opened her eyes, startled. Across from her stood a splay-legged, green-eyed, ginger she-cat, trying to look fierce, but looking more frustrated than so. Perhaps it was because Kirby had strayed so close to the Clan border, but had not yet gone over yet, so she couldn't attack her. Kirby smirked, gathered what remained of her personal pride, and stood up. "Hello," she said pleasantly.
"What are you doing here, rouge?" spat the other she-cat.
"I'm Kirby," Kirby introduced, tilting her head. She did not want to provoke an argument; she might be stealing prey from here soon, and she did not want anyone to be hating her more than they did already, because of their prejudices. "Who're you?"
"Why do you want to know? And I asked first!"
"Fine, then, I'll answer; I'm just trying to hunt," Kirby replied. "I haven't gone over the border or anything. I can smell it, okay?" Her father, Lightning, had taught her everything: how to disguise her scent among ferns, how to climb the trees to avoid the straying eyes of the Clan warriors, how to sneak by in bushes and tall grass, and how to jump from spot to spot without making a sound. All of his experience had come from experimenting endlessly; he had devoted his life to thievery, for the sole need to stay alive and support him and Kirby. For that, she was forever thankful of him. She could sense her learned skills faltering; she would be asked to leave any moment, if not already.
She did not know where her father, who had really been her uncle, was. Two moons ago, when he'd gone out for his usual evening hunt, he had not come back. Kirby had waited for a long time, and now had no choice but to assume him dead. A small glimmer of hope still shimmered in her chest, but everyone who was acquainted with them had told her they'd last seen Lightning at the Clan border, waiting for a chance to dart in. She did not believe he had ditched her to join the Clan. It wasn't like him; he would have brought her. After waiting a quarter-moon, she had to accept the fact that she would have to move on, and support herself.
"Well, don't cross the border, obviously; I'm also trying to hunt, so stay out of my way," the she-cat sneered. Frowning for a moment, she cocked her head. "You must be the daughter of that russet tom we killed some moons ago."
Kirby's heart seemed to drop. "R-russet tom....? What did he look like?"
"Mm, like you," the ginger she-cat said in an exaggeratedly thoughtful way, as if the murder had been a small, everyday thing, and she was trying to dig out the particular memory from her head. "Green eyes, I think... kinda skinny..."
"You monsters!" Kirby gasped, choking up. So Lightning had died. At the claws of these heartless cats. So the stories about them were true. These were feral cats who had no mercy, no space, for anyone outside of their so-called Clan. She had wanted to be like them so much when she had been young, even asking Lightning everyday when she was old enough to join. Now, she saw nothing but an enemy across the border. "How could you?"
"My father killed him," the ginger she-cat said somewhat proudly; Kirby snarled, wanting to rip the leer off her face. "He trespassed multiple times on our territory, stealing our prey. He wouldn't stop, you know? So we had to kill him."
"You fox-heart! I hate all of you!" Kirby couldn't stop herself, and launched herself at the ginger she-cat. Surprised, she let out a yowl as Kirby's claws pierced the skin beneath her fur. The two she-cats fell to the ground in a whirlwind of teeth and claws. Kirby was furious. Her one and only kin she had, before her father had passed away. Lightning had broke the news to her a couple moons before he'd died; her real father had also been killed by one of the Clan warriors. Kirby wouldn't have been surprised if it had been the same cat, the ginger she-cat's father, leader of the creatures.
"What's going on here?" asked a sharp, cold voice. A larger, older, male version of the ginger she-cat slid out of the woods, his cold amber eyes fixed on the two tussling she-cats. With one spring, he landed nimbly beside them, and roughly hauled Kirby's skinny form off of his daughter.
Kirby felt the powerful muscles rip her away from her opponent. Her claws flailed in the air, just missing the ginger tom's scowling face. Pinning Kirby to the ground by her throat, she writhed on the ground as the ginger tom examined her, his eyes narrowed.
"I thought we killed you!"
"You killed my father," spat Kirby, looking directly into the smirking ginger face with as much hate as she could muster.
There was a gasp from behind them. "That was your father...?" the ginger she-cat stammered. Even her own father looked rather uncomfortable.
"Yes that was," Kirby snarled, trying to push against the tom's huge paw. His grip had slacked unconsciously, and she managed to wriggle out, backing away across the border. "Bet you fox-hearts didn't know he had a daughter to support, eh? What about your stupid code? And your StarClan? What do they have to say?"
"Gingerstar..." the she-cat breathed out. "I'm so sorry," she said, stepping forward in front of her father to address Kirby. "We didn't know."
"Oh yeah?" demanded Kirby. "What if Lightning wasn't my father? Would you just have killed him, then, right on the spot? Forget it, it's too late. I hope you never get into StarClan. You're a disgrace to your Clan," she spat at Gingerstar, who was looking aghast. "And you're leading the rest of them into disgrace. No wonder others speak badly about you. We're all here to survive, mouse-brain. Some of us just have it more difficult. But that doesn't mean you kill them. You tell them to stop, and they'll do it. I bet you never even uttered the word 'stop' to him, did you?" Fuming, she stalked off. It would've been better to not steal from a such a place.
But the next day, she realized that she had no choice. Reluctantly, she crept through the trees, returning to the border once again. Shame almost overwhelmed her as she made her away along the border, keeping her eyes out for warriors.
However, there was a mouse lying across the border. Kirby looked out into the forest, scanning for the source that had so willingly given her the prey. Was this meant to be an apology? If it was, whatever. It didn't change anything.
But she didn't see the amber eyes of Gingerstar. Instead, bright green eyes, the only thing distinguishing the ginger she-cat from her father, peered out through a bush. Nodding curtly to her, Kirby picked up the mouse and left, heading towards the city that she called home.