Thistle's Mistake

Chapter six

Thistle trotted into camp. He saw Birch in the clearing, so he slid around her den and into his own den, so Sunfish could get warmed up. The poor little kit was shivering by the time Thistle had dropped him by Nutmeg, easier than how Curly had dropped the kit.
"Where did you get him?" Nutmeg's voice was frantic and full with concern.
"A tom at the twoleg place didn't want him, so I figured that no cat needed to be abandoned." Thistle's voice drifted off. A memory flooded into head.

Pain griped his scruff. A strange cat had a hold of his scruff, and took him away from his parents. Horrible scents made his eyes water. It was getting late, already night. Thistle's parents should be looking for him, right? He wasn't very hopeful, but he knew he would be back to the safety of his mother's and father's den soon. Thistle tried to look behind himself, he couldn't pick out the cat's coloring, or remember it's name. All he got was a quick tan blur and that was it. The cat took him to a pure black trail in between some odd dens. The cat took him out into the path, and dropped him harshly onto the sticky feeling trail. The cat quickly darted away, into some weird bushes. Thistle noticed that he had a shadow, surrounded by an odd color of light. He looked behind himself. A blinding unnatural light made him freeze in fear. He saw how fast it was coming at him. He closed his eyes, ready for impact. He was only a kit! Why should he die now? He heard it's loud growl. Thistle let out a small scared mew. The impact never came. He opened his eyes as a weird sensation had a hold of him. A twoleg? Thistle thought.

Thistle shook the memory away, it all happened within a few heart beats.
"Dose Birch know about him?" Nutmeg asked. Thistle shook his head.
"I figured that he needed to be warmed up as soon as possible." Thistle told her, he went over and grabbed a small mouse and placed it at Sunfish's paws. Although he was small, he should be old enough to eat the mouse.

"Tha-thank you." Sunfish thanked Thistle nervously.
"Your welcome little one." For once in what seemed to be many moons, Thistle was filled with joy. The constant fights with Birch had brought him down and although Nutmeg did her best to cheer him up, it just didn't help.
"Thistle!" A harsh hiss came from outside.
"That doesn't sound good. I'll hopefully be back soon." Thistle told Nutmeg in a sigh. He lingered out of the den, his head held a bit low. "Yes, Birch?" Thistle asked. He had started to grow a fear of the bitter she-cat.
"Why is Curly and a kit here?" She hissed.
"The kit was abandoned, and I believe that Curly was too. I couldn't leave Sunfish to die." Thistle told Birch.
"Kill him." Birch challenged.
"Sorry, what?"
"I said kill him." Birch looked at Thistle.
"Kill who?" Thistle tried to keep calm, but he couldn't kill a cat!
"That kit."
"But he did nothing wrong!"
"Do as I say!" Birch snarled, showing her yellow teeth.
"No! You forced me to do everything thing else! I am not killing a kit that has done nothing wrong!" Thistle yelled at her. A shocked expression filled her eyes.

"Well then, one of you are going to die then."
"Well maybe it's you then!" Thistle didn't know what he was doing. He leapt at Birch, claws extended, teeth bare. He pushed Birch to the ground, tearing at her pelt and ripping a chunk of skin and fur from her cheek. Birch let out a scream. She rolled onto her side, thrusting her hind legs into Thistle's chest. Thistle twisted on the ground, knowing from previous fights how to get up quickly. Birch was still struggling. Seeing his opportunity, Thistle lunged at Birch again. He rolled her into her den.
"You mangy crow-food eater!" Birch snarled. Thistle felt a pain in the back of his neck. He was ripped from Birch, although he left deep claw marks in her shoulder.

Thistle twisted in Curly's grasp, making him drop Thistle. Within the same movement Thistle kicked Curly in the chest and sent him flying backwards. He quickly found his paws right as he met Birch's attack. Birch had leapt at him, ramming right into his side. Thistle found a way to use this to his advantage. He fell on the ground, but rolled till he could launch Birch with his hind paws.

He wished it was over, but Curly attacked him again. As his dark fur and blood clotted Thistle's claws, Birch called to every cat in camp, telling them to attack Thistle. Battle screeches filled camp. Claws tore at Thistle from every side. Many different coat colors filled his vision. He felt light headed. Black started to take over his sight. Thistle fell to the ground, still aware of the cats clawing at him still. He heard shocked gasps as the claws slowly vanished. He tried to look around, his head feeling heavy.

"Make that a lesson. Don't ever talk back at me or not follow my orders again." Birch hissed in his ear. He could barely hear Birch walked away as blood roared in his ears.
"Thistle!" He slightly shifted his head to look at Nutmeg's terrified mew. He could barely see her, or anything for that matter. He tried to talk, but just couldn't. He strained to look at her, but lost all consciousness. Black surrounded him.

Thistle blinked awake. Pain griped his body, but he wasn't in the clearing, covered in mud and his own blood. He was in his den, covered in chewed up plants. Milkweed must have been here. Thistle thought, after one of Thistle's many fights, Milkweed had helped him heal. She had found out that particular plants could heal wounds, which is why he was so lucky and didn't have any scars on him. He lifted his head. Although he was still very week, he could look around, and finally see well.