Thistle's Mistake

Chapter seven

Thistle padded out of his den. A moon had passed, his wounds had fully healed. Thankfully, none of them would leave permanent scars. It seemed quite lonely. A cat named Patch had joined a few days before he brought Sunfish into camp. He ended giving the grey tom a scar behind his ear, which he forgave Thistle for. Sadly, the tom only stayed for under half a moon. He guessed that the torcher that Birch gave Thistle had drove him away. On a good note, Sunfish had became a hyper kit. He played either with Thistle or Nutmeg, but sometimes a tom named Fox. Fox was quite a bit younger than Thistle. The red tom that looked a lot like a fox was only about five or six moons old, while Thistle was closer to being four seasons. Thistle knew that soon Birch would send him to BirchClan and help Birch take it over. At this point, Thistle didn't care what he had to do just to get Birch to leave him alone. He had thought of leaving, but Nutmeg kept talking him out of it. He had offered to bring her with him, and offered to protect her, but she kept refusing.

I'm so glad for this warm breeze, Thistle thought to himself. Leaf-bare was coming to an end, new-leaf was slowly taking over. Today was one of the first warm days. Although it wasn't a early green-leaf day, it was warmer than many of the previous days. Thistle padded along the tight trail. His fur on his shoulders where brushing up against the walls. Opening his mouth, he smelled a crow. Figuring that Nutmeg, Sunfish and himself could share it if it was big enough. He crouched down in a funny angle. After quickly planing his moves he leapt onto the high ledge, nearly slipping off. He sniffed for the crow again, thankful that he didn't smell any fear-scent from it. He quickly located it in one of the many cedar trees. He hid from it behind a large clump of mossy rocks.

After the bird called out a few more times it fluttered down, picking at something. He worked his way to the crow, seeing another one close to it. If he could catch the second one, he could give it to Milkweed, as a thanks for helping him. He hid behind a small fern. One of the crows hoped in front of him. Thistle quickly snapped it's neck with his paw, then leapt after the other one. He came a whisker too short. The crow shot up. Thistle jumped up after it, throwing his paw at it, claws extended. He grasped some of it's feathers, and pulled it to the ground, killing it on impact. He quickly buried the two crows and went to look for more for Birch.

The bossy she-cat had made him hunt for her every day. He absolutely hated it, but it was better than any threats or any arguments that turned into fights with claws and teeth. They happened too often. Nutmeg wasn't really a fan of them, but she normally didn't try to stop the fights, normally just stand there and watch in shock. Instead of all of the cats in camp coming to watch, they just went on their way. If Thistle got a boost of confidence and tried to fight as hard as he could, Birch would call Curly or another cat over to help. The battles would only last a few more heartbeats from that moment. Thankfully, Birch didn't call all of the cats on him again. That day could've been his last. He couldn't stand for quarter moon. Birch nearly hissed at him daily because she had to hunt. Lazy she-cat. Thistle often thought. Even worse, if Thistle had a spare piece of food, or even a piece for himself, Birch would steal it and give it to Curly. Hopefully, since it's a crow she won't take it. The strange cat had a weird thing against crows.

The same image from a few moons popped into his head: a black kit, white on his chest, front paws and on his face tackled Thistle. In defense, Thistle lunched the kit off of him. He jumped to his paws to tackle the black kit again. Sending him flying, without Thistle knowing how close he was to the ravine. Thistle shook his head. He didn't didn't know why he kept remembering this kit, or why he kept remembering him being dropped in front of the monster.

After a bit of hunting Thistle found a shrew. Deciding that he had hunted enough, he unburied his two crows and headed back to camp. He stayed out of the worn tail, curiousness pricked his paws. Thistle hadn't explored up here yet, since he might not make it back from Birch's quest that he would be sent on any time now, he figured he would do it on his way to his den. After seeing a lot of moss covered tree stumps, rocks, and fallen trees, he made it to camp. He padded behind his and Nutmeg's den, dropping both crows in the entrance. He headed to Birch's den next. Fear pricked his pelt, but he forced his pelt to stay down. The tan tabby was laying in the sun next to her stone den.

"Birch, I brought this for you." Thistle told her quietly at first, hopping not to startle her. He placed the shrew next to her.
"About time." Was all she mumbled before she took a bit of the shrew. Wanting to get away as soon as possible, Thistle gave a slight nod and padded away. A chill went down his spine, he shook out his short, grey tabby pelt. Peaking into the den, Thistle grabbed a crow again and padded to Milkweed's den. Her den was on the opposite side from where Thistle's was. He passed by Rain and Bramble's den, Then Felix's, Snowball's, Patch's old den, Soul's, Tom's, then Callie's individual dens. Milkweed's den was the furthest from the center clearing. She had made a comfortable den under tree roots. A small cave was underneath a sycamore tree. Out of all of the dens, her's was probably the most protected, and closest to the stream.

"Milkweed?" He called. After a few quick moments the cream she-cat looked out of the den, a concerned look turned to joy in her pale blue eyes.
"Yes?" Milkweed asked.
"I brought up you this crow, as a thanks for helping me with all of those fights between me and Birch." A bit embarrassed, Thistle lightly threw the black bird next to her.
"You don't need to thank me. I'm just glad your okay, but thank you for the crow. I hadn't had any luck this morning."
"I guess I'll be going then, I'll see you if I get into a fight or I have a spare piece of prey."
"Okay then, bye Thistle, and lets hope it's because you have an extra piece of prey." Milkweed responded with a slight laugh. Thistle padded over to his den, Nutmeg and Sunfish had eaten most of the crow.

"Thistle can you show me outside of camp?" Sunfish padded up to Thistle as he pleaded. "Let me eat first, and ask Nutmeg too." Thistle told him with a smile. He quickly ate the rest of the crow. Sunfish was bouncing around, Nutmeg had said 'yes' so Sunfish was excited. Thistle walked away from his den, Nutmeg beside him and Sunfish bounding around up ahead.

"Who did you give that crow to?" A cat snarled behind him, making Thistle jump. He tried to keep his fur flat as he looked at Birch.
"Milkweed, why?" He said the second part quietly, and as confused as he could.
"You should have gave it to Curly." She snarled. Nutmeg had run off to Sunfish.
"I didn't know he wanted it." Thistle forced the urge to make himself look smaller.
"Mouse-brain! While your out, get Curly something. And why are you so scared?" Her tone was sharp at first, then changed to a tempting tone, as if she wanted to get into a fight.
"Are you kidding?" Thistle snapped without thinking. "Your the reason why!"
"Don't raise your voice at me!" Thistle flinched.
"Please stop." Thistle whispered.
"What did you say?" Birch growled.
"Please stop." Thistle told her, taking a risky step forward. Wrong choice, Thistle held his ears down, regretting his choice.
"Why should I? You never listened me!" Birch snapped
"You don't tell me anything! Other than what I did 'wrong' because you just want to torture me! For no reason!"
"I told you this before. You killed my kit!" The scene of the black kit popped into his head again. Only a new part showed up: Thistle stood up, cat's where calling his and for a cat named Crow. He glance around, the black kit was nowhere. The vision faded away quickly.
"I didn't kill your kit!" Thistle fought back. He didn't know for sure why the black kit came up then, but he didn't think it was related.

"You threw him into the ravine!" She called out, anger and grief choked her.