Warrior Cat One-shots

Falling

Written by Misty

***

A pale cream tabby streaked over the rough grey pebbles of the barren mountainside. Gravel and shards of broken rock flew up from her paws as she leaped over a scraggly bush growing on the slope of the mountain. The deep green forest of pine trees layed in a vast carpet of green, nestled in a deep mountain valley was slowly getting smaller and wider as the she cat pelted up the slope.

She could hear the growling of her perusers getting closer over the pounding of her heart.

She scrabbled over a large rock jutting out from the crumbly soil. Bunching her muslces, she sprang onto the lichen covered stone, barely missing the snapping jaws of the beasts.

The tabby she cat tore through the bare mountainside, clawing at pawholds, her chest heaving from the effort of running uphill. The slope  was getting more rocky and steep with every step. The cold, thin air stung her lungs as she determinedly raced away from her attackers. The low growing and snapping of the  creatures were only a few paces away.

Fresh terror boosted her speed.

Staring ahead, the frosty wind stinging her eyes, she spotted a huge wall of just solid gray and white rock. The sides were worn smooth by years of wind and rain, leaving not a single pawhold in sight.

The tabby she cat changed the course of direction, sending a spray of grit behind her, hopefully in her attackers' direction. A yelp of pain signalled that she hit home, giving her a pang of satisfaction.

She clambered onto a large pile of rough boulders, leaping from one to another in swift jumps. She quickly made it to the top, her pads stinging from the cuts the stones made on her paws. Loud yapping and snarling were heard over the roaring of the wind, signalling the persuers were struggling to climb to the top.

Knowing they won't be long, the she cat turned and tore off away from the rocks. Just a little more.....

She leapt over a few scraggling rocks jutting out jaggedly from the mountain side, readying her sore paws to hit the ground. The barks and growls of her attakers were becoming louder again.

Suddenly, what was supposed to be solid ground was just air. Cold, thin, unforgiving mountain air.

She was falling.

She felt herself to be weightless, no possible anchors to stop her fall in sight. Freezing wind stung her already watery eyes and she watched the cliff fade smaller and smaller, the wolves peering down triumphantly at her limp body.

The harsh wind blew right threw her thin tabby pelt, making it feel as if she was drenched in ice water. The freezing air buffeted at her, tossing her around the thin air like limp prey. She made no sound as she dropped, no yowling or cries of suprise and fear.

She waited silently for her death to come.

-

Thrush's amber eyes flew open.

All was silent. The soft snores of her fellow to-bes could be heard drifting through the cool night air. Her chest was heaving from the after shock of the nightmare.

But it seemed too real, too vivid. As if it was a vision.

The cave was dark, but the comforting sound of the waterfall calmed Thrush's startled nerves.

A pair of soft green eyes peered at her in the dark.

"Frost?" Thrush whispered. "Why are you up so late?"

"I could ask the same thi—" the black and white tom started, but was cut off by a far off sound.

A cold howl rang through the air, echoing off the damp cave walls.

***

Short explanation:
The story takes place in the Tribe of Rushing Water, and the main character is Thrush (Thrush that sings at dusk). It starts out as a dream (or apperently a dream), with wolves chasing her, then she wakes up to wolves outside the cave. Thrush has the gift of dreaming/visioning the near most likely future. In this case, she dreamed of wolves chasing her, meaning that might be what happens when the wolves attack her tribe in real life.