Dirty Paws [Warriors]

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REWRITTEN AS OF 10/16/17

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THE NIGHT WAS COMING.

The horizon seemed dipped in blood and engulfed in flames, set afire by the setting sun that sank ever closer to the jagged horizon. The clouds, which had seemed so innocent when the day had just begun, roiled at the edges of the sky, framing the burning masterpiece in shifting black and dark gray. Even the clear river was tainted with scarlet as if a thousand bloody battles had begun and ended on its shores.

Perhaps it was dangerous to be out this late, when the shadows of the trees lengthened into daggers and the howling of faraway wolves echoed through the mountains. Bee Flight didn't care.

For them, the woodland came alive when the day died and the sun slumbered beneath the world. Fireflies flashed greetings to them, dancing through the trees and settling on their pelt when they paused to admire the fiery sunset. The fact that danger was so near and so tangible was both terrifying and thrilling to them, and the feeling of eyes upon their back was familiar and tantalizingly dangerous. Bee Flight was a creature of the night, unclaimed by the warm sunset and cerulean sky of noon or the pastel hues of the rising sun. They were as untamed as the stars and as wild as the moon— and, some would say, as unreachable as the horizon.

Sunset was the time when the brutal honesty of daylight faded into the soft blue ambience of nighttime, when sharp edges and glaring eyes disappeared under a glittering veil. It was the time when dreams came alive and the ancestors danced and chased each other through the obsidian skies, when Bee Flight could become one with the shadows that striped the forest floor and fly with the cold midnight wind.

But they weren't here to admire scenery. They were here to run.

Their claws dug into the soft riverbank mud, tossing up chunks of dislocated soil behind them as they went. The river crashed and roared beside them, spraying their pelt with tiny drops of rain that had fallen from the heavens long ago to run wild on the ground. Euphoria bubbled just under their skin, lighting the fires behind their eyes and stoking the forge in their lungs. Under the riverside filth that stained their golden tabby pelt lay heaven in hiding.

Swollen River had established a strict curfew on the cats of the mountains earlier that day, and that meant Bee Flight was supposed to be dreaming in their nest right now. The wolves rarely attacked the cats when they were clustered together in their sleeping caves, and safety lay in numbers: a lone wolf straying into the sleeping cave was easier to defeat when you had twenty friends than when you were alone and bleeding deep in the forest. They had slipped out of their nest, unable to sleep, hoping to find solace in the cool night air. It had come to them in the breeze that whispered lullabies as it rustled through their fur, in the sound of their paws drumming against the hard-packed mud.

When they came back to camp, panting and covered in dirt, Swollen River would undoubtedly be furious. After all, Bee Flight had their whole life ahead of them— if they got killed now, their dreams would never become reality. It would be a tragedy the cats would weep over for months. But neither guilt nor shame had taken root in Bee's heart. Only happiness.

At the moment, they were running back to the cave, chasing the last sliver of light that rested on the mountain peaks. Their muscles stung, and they gasped for breath, desperate for air, but there was glory in the pain. As the smallest of the Acolytes, Bee Flight was more than determined to be the strongest of the Paladins when they came of age.

A pile of rocks loomed before them— the stairway to the sleeping cave, where Bee Flight would tiptoe their way around Swollen River's angry words. Despite the pile's height, the mountain cats were well adapted to climbing, and a few leaps were all if took. Panting, Bee Flight paused for a moment to regain their breath.

"I knew I'd find you down here!" It was Crow Talon's voice, loud and ringing in the near silence.

The sound of claws on stone indicated the lanky tomcat wasn't just going to stand around waiting for them to come to him. Gulping in one last breath, Bee Flight turned around and watched the silhouette of their best friend jump down the rocks.

"River was worried about you, you know." Crow's pelt brushed against their own, a friendly greeting that Bee Flight wasn't sure was intentional or not. The tuxedo tom's eyes shone with excited fervor, glowing eerily bright in the near darkness.

"Really?" Bee Flight asked curiously, knowing the answer was going to be yes. Crow Talon was far too honest to lie about anything; his falsehoods were so fragile, a simple breeze could rip them into tiny pieces.

Surely enough, Crow Talon nodded, his tail waving above his head. "Meaning we should probably get back to the cave. Hey— what happened to your fur? There's mud all over it!"

Bee Flight responded with a grin, their eyes glittering. "I'll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret."

Their chatter continued until, at long last, the pair reached the ledge just outside the cave. Sudden nervousness blossomed in Bee Flight's chest, wrapping inky tendrils around their unsteady heart and making their paws tremble in dread. Swollen River's anger was legendary. It was said that his yowl could be heard from the lowest part in the valley.

Only the warmth of Crow Talon's pelt and the intimidating darkness of the sky kept them from turning back. A sudden seriousness had slipped over their friend's features; apparently the threat of his father's fury was one of the only things that could drag down his normally high spirits.

"I'm glad you're back in one piece," a heavily accented voice echoed, causing Bee to flinch in surprise. Jumping Spider's eyes stared back at him from the darkness of the entrance, disappearing entirely when he blinked. "Swollen River would like to have a word with you."

The back of their throat suddenly tasted like cold, hard metal. Swallowing back the fear that welled within, Bee Flight stepped inside the cave to face their leader's wrath.

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WRITTEN 10/15/17
WORD COUNT: 1080