Warriors AU: Into the Wild

Chapter 9

"I'd go and see Raggedpelt, if I were you," whispered Silverpaw, as Longtail strode away. "She doesn't look very happy."

Sandpaw glanced over at the old she-cat. She was still lying beside the Highrock. Silverpaw was right; she was glaring at him.

"Well, here goes," he mewed. "Wish me luck!"

"You'll need the whole of Starclan on your side for this one," answered Silverpaw. "Call out if you need a paw. If she looks like she's going to get you, I'll sneak up behind her and whack her on the head with a stiff rabbit."

Sandpaw purred with amusement and trotted off toward Raggedpelt. His cheerfulness quickly evaporated as he neared the injured queen.

The old cat was clearly in a terrible mood. She hissed a warning and showed her teeth. "Stop right there, kittypet!"

Sandpaw sighed. It seemed he was in for a fight. He was still hungry and beginning to feel tired. He longed to curl up in his nest for an afternoon nap. The last thing he wanted was to argue with this pitiful clump of fur and teeth. "You can call me what you like," he mewed wearily. "I'm just following Oakstar's orders."

"You are a kittypet, though, aren't you?" Raggedpelt wheezed.

She's tired too, Sandpaw thought. There was less fire in her voice, although her spite was as strong as ever.

"I used to live with Twolegs when I was a kitten," Sandpaw replied calmly.

"Your mother a kittypet? Your father a kittypet?"

"Yes, they were." Sandpaw looked down at the ground, feeling resentment burn inside him. It was bad enough that members of his own Clan still viewed him as an outsider. H certainly didn't have to answer to this foul-tempered prisoner.

Raggedpelt seemed to take his silence as an invitation to go on. "Kittypet blood is not the same as warrior blood. Why don't you run home to your Twolegs now instead of looking after me? It's humiliating, being fussed over by a lowborn cat like you!"

Sandpaw's patience ran out. He snarled, "You'd still feel humiliated if I were warrior-born. You'd feel ashamed whether I was a precious she-cat from your own Clan or a wretched Twoleg that had picked you off the ground." He lashed his tail from side to side. "It's the fact that you need to rely on any cat that you find so humiliating!"

Raggedpelt stared at him, her amber eyes very wide.

Sandpaw carried on fiercely: "You're just going to have to get used to being cared for until you are well enough to look after yourself, you spiteful old bone bag!"

He stopped as Raggedpelt began to make a low, harsh wheezing sound.

Alarmed, Sandpaw took a step toward her. The she-cat was trembling all over and her eyes had narrowed into tiny slits. Was she having some kind of a fit?

"Look, I didn't mean..." he began, before he suddenly realized that she was laughing!

"Mr-ow, ow-ow," she mewled, a purr rumbling up from deep inside her chest.

Sandpaw didn't know what to do.

"You have spirit, kittypet," Raggedpelt croaked, stopping at last. "Now, I'm tired and my legs hurt. I need sleep and something to put on this wound. Go and find that handsome little medicine cat of yours and ask him for some herbs. I think you'll find a goldenrod poultice would help. And, while you're at it, I wouldn't mind a few poppy seeds to chew on. The pain is killing me!"

Stunned by her change of mood, Sandpaw turned quickly and sprinted toward Spottedleaf's den.

He had never been in this part of the camp before. With his ears pricked, he padded through a cool green tunnel of ferns that led into a small grassy clearing. A tall rock stood at one side, split down the middle by a crack wide enough for a cat to make its den inside. Out of this opening trotted Spottedleaf. As usual, he looked bright-eyed and friendly, his dappled coat gleaming with a hundred shades of amber and brown.