Warriors: SuperClan

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The weather was of a light chill, a gentle breeze rustling the long grass of SuperClan territory, a visible patch of burnt greenery where it seemed a few fiery members had wandered past. Sand laid in a perfect layer against the ground, feathers lay dormant and the strong scent of catmint wafted in puffs of smoke across the land. Just another day in the land of powers, another day in SuperClan.

Squirrelstripe and Streamflower, too rather close friends, strolled leisurely across the terrain with tails waving softly to the beat of their paws. A tree laid in the way of their path, perhaps from Herbfeather's tree growing expedition, and with a single shred of his lllAAAAAAAAser eyes, the tree was depleted.

"Y'know, it's so awesome that you can do that," Streamflower commented, stepping over the burning mess.

"Yeah, I guess, but I wish I could turn invisible like you," he complained, his laser eyes not suitable.

She shrugged. "I do hear a lot."

Squirrelstripe raised a non-existent eyebrow. "Like what?"

Streamflower smirked. "That's for me to know, not you."

Before they could continue, a certain Silversoar rushed past them, feathery wings gliding gracefully as he rushed past. His elegant silver fur brushed against Squirrelstripe, knocking the ginger warrior to the side.

"Hey, watch where you're going, grey-face!" he retorted, scoffing.

Silversoar smiled, landing for a short amount of time. "Oh, sorry Squirrel, didn't mean to fluster you. Don't laser me!"

Without another word, he spread his wings and fluttered away alongside a nearby flock of sparrows. Squirrelstripe growled, willing his eyes to laser off his feathers so he fell to the ground, positively fried.

"I hate him," he muttered, receiving a gasp from Streamflower.

"Hate him?!" she cried, outraged. "But he's... perfect..."

Squirrelstripe scoffed. "Perfect? He looks like he crawled out of a birds nest!"

Streamflower huffed, unamused. "You just don't like him like I do, but whatever. Superstar wouldn't approve of us talking about his star warrior."

"You care what Superstar thinks?" he asked in surprise as they wandered across the burnt fields of his Clan.

Streamflower looked rather outraged at his question. "Of course? He's our Clan leader! He's almighty!"

Squirrelstripe's eyes of extreme laser pierced into her skull, and if it weren't for his restraining skills learnt from years of taking orders from Superstar, he may have singed her fur off for her comment.

"Superstar's nothing but an arrogant letdown," he sneered, holding his nose up.

Streamflower frowned. "Let's just agree to disagree."

They continued a short while longer, the stretch of burnt grass becoming ombre with a black smoke that hung on the tips of each blade, a blue twinge to them. Both cats took one look at another and in a defeated chorus they sighed.

"Emberstream."

Streamflower grunted. "She can't control her powers, at all. Look at this mess!"

"So not cultured to SuperClan," Squirrelstripe scoffed, his prestige unimaginable.

"All these heat and fire controllers, they think they're it, don't they? How they can just burn things down with teal flames like they own the place," she hissed, staring dismally towards the ground with hatred plastered over her face.

"Hotpaw's gonna grow up to be like her, I can tell," Squirrelstripe commented, spitting at the filth he named.

"But they're not awesome like us, remember?" Streamflower added wisely, nodding to her words.

A rush of air lifted from the ground, and in an instant a figure flew past them, paws thundering and breaths effortless, as though it weren't even moving. The jolly face of Quickfoot met them, his happiness and glee prominent as the early bird's call sending chills down their spines.

"Good day to you both!" Quickfoot called, merry.

"Hey," Streamflower greeted him, uninterested. He did not receive this.

"Such a wonderful day in SuperClan! I've been rushing about, business as usual, cleaning out the dens, a spot of hunting, fierce fighting practise, tree climbing, herb sorting, errand running, Clan politics, y'know, all those daily activities!"

His words left his mouth so swiftly Squirrelstripe could almost see them physically vomit from his throat. Streamflower nodded emptily, not catching a single word.

"So how have you been, old chums?!" he asked, his despicable tone disgusting.

"Uh, I, uh, good, yes, thanks, uh, yeah, great," Squirrelstripe stuttered, forgetting the ancient art of words from mouth.

Quickfoot smiled broadly. "Jolly good! Well, must dash, toodles!"

In a flash, the obnoxious warrior darted into the distance, a sound wave quivering behind him. Streamflower quietly seethed on the spot, and tiny lasers sparked from Squirrelstripe as anger pulsed from him.

"I hate that cat," they growled in unison.

Silence fell upon them for a moment, before a question popped into the laser cat's mind.

"Y'know who I really can't stand?"

"Quickfoot? Hotpaw? Silversoar? Superstar? Emberstream? Hippie? Me? Yourself? The sweet release of death being so far away? The-."

"None of them," he grunted through his teeth.

"Oh? Then who?" she asked.

"Frostwing,"

Streamflower shuddered as the cold named cat came into conversation, her supersonic hearing intimidating to all.

"She's such a vicious snob, I wish she'd go deaf so we could all talk about her in peace."

A dark, violent monster appeared behind him, and Streamflower used her powers for good and turned invisible, scooting away.

"Streamflower? Hey! Where did you go?" he called, to no avail.

"Oh, Squirrelstripe!" Frostwing called icily from behind him, and in fear and realisation he turned around.

"Oh, uh, Frostwing! I-."

And that, was the last time Squirrelstripe and Streamflower spoke of others again.

~Written by Hazel lmao~