Whisper: A Warrior Cat Fan Fiction

Chapter Seven: Part Two - Greyfeather

He really couldn't sleep. It rained, a cold rain, and the holly bush they placed him under didn't offer too much protection. Before trying to go to bed he curled up as close as he could to the trunk and peered past his guards to look at the bodies of his mother and little brother in the clearing.

He still couldn't believe it when he had seen Clamkit laid out in the center of camp, his flanks unmoving and his cream and white fur ruffled. They put Ploversong down right beside him, almost curled around him. They both would have been happier that way.

He reached out his forepaws to stretch, attracting they attention of his two guards, Mosswillow and Sharkclaw. Mosswillow cocked her head, green eyes gleaming like two alien moons in the dark.

"What are you doing now?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just stretching."

She narrowed her eyes and turned around slowly. What a prissy she-cat. No wonder Galeheart was into her; she was probably the only cat in the clan that could match him as far as arrogance and suspicion went.

Greyfeather rolled over and tried to get some sleep, but he just couldn't seem to shut his brain off. The events of the afternoon kept pounding though his head.

After Greyfeather had left Dawnblaze on the top of the cliff, he had made it less than a tree-length before a patrol found him. Of course, Galeheart was leading it, flanked by Mosswillow, as well as warriors Sharkclaw and Minnowfur.

They beat him up pretty bad. For a while he thought what Dawnblaze had told him would be true, and that they really would kill him. But they let him up after a while, as someone was murmuring something about needing him alive. He didn't really remember because he was busy vomiting, blood pouring down his sides.

They marched him back to camp, shoved him right in front of Ploversong and Clamkit's bodies, under the Bone-tree. Pearlstar sat on top with such a look on her face that Greyfeather had never seen before, a mix of disappointment, fear and disgust.

She really didn't say much to him, other than that clan had come to an anonymous decision that he would no longer be welcomed in Stormclan or on the island. She gave him two choices. She said that there were deathberries growing on the far side of the island, and he could eat those if he chose to. She also said that he could swim into the ocean. Perhaps he might even reach another land.

Greyfeather chose the deathberries. Better a quick death than a slow one.

Greyfeather rolled over so that his belly was curled around the trunk of the holly bush, trying to push the thought of death out of his mind. He remembered what Ploversong had said to him in her final words. "There will be no Starclan for you! You'll rot in the dark forest!"

What a horrible thing for him to think about in his final hours. Strangely, though, what scared him most about going to the Dark Forest was never seeing Rosewhisker again. He had always planned to live a long life, and then, after coming to a courageous end, trotting up to Starclan to tell his sister how much he missed her and how much he loved her. What would she think when she realized her brother would never see her because he was evil? Would the other Starclan cats make fun of her? Would they shun her? Probably not. Only nice cats went to Starclan.

He yawned. What was the point of going to sleep anyway? If he got tired tomorrow, he could just take the deathberries. Better to spend the night breathing in the scent of his clanmates, the forest, and the ocean. That was what he would miss the most, he decided; the salty, open smell of the ocean.

Suddenly, he become aware that he was being watched. He twisted around to look at his guards but he couldn't see them. They weren't there. In their place stood a beautiful grey tabby she-cat with eyes as blue as the winter sky. Her muscles flowed smoothly along her side, cover by a perfectly glossy pelt.