Against All Odds

Part 4: Rescue

The following night, Frog lay awake in his nest, the snores of his denmates rising up around him. Another trying day, but his mind refused to rest even though his body ached. His eyes stared at the stone walls of the den, focusing on their blankness, and he willed his thoughts to be the same.

Then, his eyes shifted to the bright shape of Swanpaw and his mind began to race all over again, curiosity getting the better of him. The conversation he'd overheard the previous night was still fresh in his mind and he found it hard to believe that the Clan would get rid of one of their own.

Yet, Sleetstar's words continued to haunt him. He'd asked Rainberry about the saying, wondering where it came from, to learn that the Clan took these 'leeches' very seriously. Eggpaw added that SeaClan's history revolved around sacrifice, usually of the weaker cats, to the seals in order to gain the favour of their ancestors.

Frog didn't want to believe it. How could anyone remove a member of their family? It was backwards, twisted, messed up.

But, his own memories of home did little to support the opposite. He remembered being weak, unwanted by the other loners of his Twolegplace, told to leave because he didn't belong. It filled him with anger just to think of it and he closed his eyes, willing the thoughts to go away.

They were replaced with Swanpaw once more. Swanpaw who lay in her nest all day, too weak to move, haunted by a past Frog knew little about. Others discussed her fate behind her back, leaving her alone to battle this inner demon. They refused to help, to try and change her fate.

Something like pity welled up inside Frog. This weak, lonely she-cat reminded him of someone he'd once known very well, someone who wished to be rescued, to be helped, to be loved. No one ever came to his aid.

Rising to his paws, mind made up, he carefully manouevred around the other sleeping apprentices, moving as silently as he could. The soft white fur rose and fell, shifting in its nest as he came closer.

What are you doing, fishbrain? the tom thought to himself, but reached out a paw all the same.

White flashed through the air before him and Frog jumped back, startled. Amber eyes met his and he held his breath, waiting for the she-cat's next move. She remained still and the two stared at each other.

"I couldn't sleep," Frog finally said. She didn't reply, but didn't avert her gaze either.

The tabby settled down beside her nest, keeping his eyes locked with hers. They showed a weariness, lids half-closed from exhaustion. It looked like she hadn't slept in days.

He quickly glanced over her body, the tangled clumps of fur doing little to hide how thin she'd become. Her ribs stuck out, making her already small form seem even smaller, as if she were just a shred of her former self.

"Are you feeling better?"

Swanpaw blinked her big eyes at him and the tom felt his heart begin to thud in his chest, a fluttering in his stomach making him feel queasy. The anxiety grew as he realized his self-appointed task might be much harder than he expected.

"Do the herbs help?"

Nothing. Sighing, he decided to take a different approach.

"Since you're not going to sleep anyway, do you mind if I talk about my... past?"

She remained silent, but a flick of her ear told Frog that she would listen.

Taking a deep breath, he began his tale. Having nothing planned, he started from the beginning, from the mother who left him out on the street, to the group of loners who took him in, through the battles he avoided and the hiding spots he still remembered, up to the moment when she caught him on the border.