Firetalon's Destiny

Chapter 3

“Hey, wake up!” I felt a paw prodding my side and let out a soft moan and I attempted to swat away my tormentor. “Seriously, just wake up already!” this time I felt a swift jab against my ribs and I let out a yelp. Leaping to my paws, my eyes shot open and I stared grumpily back at a kit that was maybe a moon or so older than I. He was incredibly skinny and his gray tabby pelt seemed to stick out everywhere. “Finally,” he snorted his amber eyes gleaming with annoyance. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up.”

            “Who are you?” I growled, and I crouched low to the ground as I barred my teeth. “And where am I?”

            “I should be asking you the same question,” the kit snorted while looking over at his mother. “Should I tell him?”

            His mother was the complete opposite of the kit, with a lightly colored ginger pelt and her yellow eyes seemed to glow with patience. Her slick fur looked like it would be soft the touch and her paws looked slightly delicate. “Ratkit, you should give him a break,” she meowed while smiling warmly at me. “You had quite a scare young one; you should consider yourself lucky that Thunderpath was there when he was.”

            Thunderpath… I frowned, why did the name sound familiar? I could vaguely recall my father talking about a cat named Thunderpath but what was it about again? I frowned, my mind racing before my eyes widened with realization. “Are you CityClan cats?” I blurted out, my tail starting to quiver nervously. What should I do?

            “That’s right and, unlike FlameClan, we don’t let our kits wonder around unsupervised,” I whirled around to come face to face with the scariest cat I’d ever seen. He had a muscular build much like my father’s, but instead of feeling safe around this stranger I felt only fear. His dark brown tabby fur was littered with scars and he wore a frown on his face. His orange eyes reflected his anger, but underneath his angry disposition I saw an emotion that made my heart thrum with sadness. Unable to handle the emotions in his gaze, I glanced away. The stranger snorted and focused his gaze on Ratkit’s mother. “Do you know what Citystar is planning to do with this kit?”

            “Not yet,” Gingerpetal responded while dragging Rat kit back to her to groom him. He tried to wriggle away as her tongue roughly smoothed down his disheveled pelt. “But he’s probably going to return the kit to FlameClan.”

            “We’re low on warriors, maybe we should just keep him,” the tom snorted and I shifted under his intense gaze. “It’s FlameClan’s fault for letting him wonder off.”

            “I’m a FlameClan cat; I’ll never be part of CityClan!” I snarled but quickly clamped my jaws shut as fear rushed through me. The tom’s paw rushed out at me and I was smacked to the ground.

            “Timberclaw!” Gingerpetal gasped and quickly leaping to her paws she rushed over to me. She helped me to my paws while glaring coldly at the agitated tom cat. “You should just leave and Citystar will be the one to decide this kit’s fate, not you.”

            Timberclaw let out a low growl before turning and stalking off, his tail tip twitching in annoyance. I let out a sigh and sat down, my paws still shaking from the encounter. And now that he was gone, I allowed myself to look around. I was in a strange cave looking place, with smooth straight walls that were colored an odd creamy coloring. What was strange was that in certain spots the cave walls were peeling. But that wasn’t all, instead of moss nests we stood on a strange soft stone. The stone’s surface was more silky than smooth, with what could only be considered fur growing out from it. “Say, say what’s this?” I asked, my eyes gleaming with excitement at the concept of another new discovery. Already the thought of being a CityClan captive had escape my mind as I glanced around. “What is with this cave and this odd rock?”
            Ratkit snorted and he rolled his eyes at me in annoyance. Deliberately he answered my question slowly, almost like I was mouse-brained or something. “This is a pillow,” he lingered on the word pillow as he gestured towards what I was standing on. “And this is a room, not a cave.”