Warriors AU: Forest of Secrets

Chapter 12

"No!" Silverstream yowled, launching himself after the drowning kit.

Sandstorm lost sight of them. The kit left on the mat squealed desperately, trying to cling to the twigs as they were split apart by the current. With the last of his strength Sandstorm drove himself forward, sank his teeth into the little creature's scruff, and kicked out for dry ground.

Within moments he felt stones under his paws and managed to stand. Stone-limbed with weariness, he staggered out and dropped the black kit on the grass at the edge of the flood. Its eyes were closed; he was not sure if it was still alive.

Glancing downstream, he saw Silverstream splashing out of the shallows, with the dark gray kit gripped firmly in his teeth. He padded up to Sandstorm and set it gently on the ground.

Sandstorm nosed both kits. They were lying very still, but when Sandstorm looked closer he could see the faint rise and fall of their flanks as they breathed. "Thank Starclan," he muttered. He began to lick the black kit as he had seen the queens in the nursery do to their little ones, rasping his tongue against the line of fur to rouse the kit and warm it. Silverstream crouched beside him and did the same for the dark gray kit.

Soon the black kit twitched and coughed up a mouthful of river water. It took longer for the dark gray kit to respond, but at last it too coughed up water and opened its eyes.

"They're alive!" exclaimed Silverstream, his voice filled with relief.

"Yes, but they won't live long without their mother," Sandstorm pointed out. He sniffed the black kit carefully. The river water had washed off much of the Clan scent, but he could still detect a faint trace. "Riverclan," he mewed, unsurprised. "We'll have to take them home."

Sandstorm's courage almost deserted him for good at the thought of crossing the swollen river. He had almost drowned rescuing the kits, and he felt exhausted. His limbs were cold and stiff, and his fur was soaked. He wanted nothing more than to creep into his own den and sleep for a moon.

Silverstream, still crouched over the dark gray kit, looked as if he felt the same. His thick silver tabby fur was flattened against his body, and his blue eyes were wide with anxiety. "Do you think we can get across?" he meowed.

"We've got to, or the kits will die." Forcing himself to his paws, Sandstorm picked up the black kit again by its scruff and headed downstream. "Let's see if we can cross by the stepping stones, like you said." Silverstream padded after him, carrying the dark gray kit through the wet grass at the edge of the floodwater.

When the river was at its usual level, the steeping stones were an easy route across for Riverclan cats. The longest leap from rock to rock was no more than a tail-length, and Riverclan controlled the territory here on both sides of the river.

Now floodwater completely covered the stones. But where they had once broken the surface, a dead tree, its bark stripped away, lay across the river. Sandstorm guessed that some of its branches had been caught on the submerged stepping stones. "Thank Starclan!" he exclaimed. "We can use the tree to cross." He adjusted his grip on the kit and waded out into the flood toward the splintered end of the tree trunk. The kit, seeing the churning water barely a mouse-length below its nose, began to mewl and struggle feebly.

"Keep still, both of you," growled Silverstream gently, as he set down the dark gray kit for a moment to adjust his grip. "We're going to find your mother."

Sandstorm wasn't sure if his terrified kit was even old enough to understand, but at least it went limp again so it was easier to carry. He had to lift his head high to keep the tiny creature clear of the water as he floundered toward the tree. He reached it without needing to swim and sprang upward, clawing for a grip on the soft, rotting wood. Once he had pulled himself up, his main concern was keeping a pawhold on the smooth, slippery trunk. Gingerly placing each of his paws in a straight line, Sandstorm padded toward the opposite bank with the river churning beneath him, sucking at the tree as if it wanted to sweep it, and its burden of cats, away downstream. Sandstorm glanced back to see Silverstream following with the dark gray kit, his face creased with determination.