Small Cats ⇧ Above the Forsythia ⇧ Book 4

Eleven. Stains.

Hootly frowned as she padded into the clearing, where a large pile of prey was placed. She saw Cliffsiders pad in, some with prey, others empty-pawed. Had they really brought everyone here? She chose a quiet spot at the edge of the clearing where the Stained Forsythia stood. She lay down and watched the party as cats chattered and the trainees play-fight.

She paused for a moment, realizing that something was off. She frowned, but couldn't exactly figure out what it was. Her mind became frustrated, and after a few minutes, she realized that she'd been clawing at the grass. A few cats had been staring in confusion, and in shame she stood up and padded away.

Hootly twitched her whiskers before shaking her head and walking out of the clearing, deciding that a walk by herself might do something. No one seemed to notice her disappearance, to her relief. They might ask where I'm going, and honestly, I don't feel like telling. She figured privacy would be the key.

Key to what? Hootly strolled through the forest, looking at her paws as she walked onwards. Key to all of what I've been thinking. She'd been keeping it at the back of her head, but the thought of her family, Alcatri, and the frustration of what was off at the party.

Family. There was almost no possible way to find them. If they were even still here. Alcatri? The she-cat, even though she took Hootly in, seemed to judge every decision she made, even though never being physically there. The frustration? She wasn't sure.

Hootly reached a large, tall tree with a thin trunk. It seemed to stretch for miles up in the night sky. She paused for a moment and took a seat, looking at its roots. Claw marks. She flattened her ears at the sight before shaking her head and deciding that it was probably a marker for borders.

Unless this isn't the border. She stood up immediately and breathed in the scent around it. There wasn't any strong Soarian or Cliffsider scent, the sign that there usually was a border. I couldn't have crossed, could I? Another scent hit her. Hootly stopped. She breathed it in, and immediately recognized it as the same that she'd found on the other night, when she'd tracked the pieces of fur.

Someone's here. But it could be a normal Soarian. Yet, who would leave claw marks on a tree? Stop being paranoid and weak, Hootly. It's probably just a frustrated cat who couldn't get their catch. Maybe a squirrel that was bold enough to scramble up a tree. But Soarians can climb, somewhat. Someone inexperienced? But they wouldn't dare go to the Stained Forsythia, would they?

Hootly turned around in circles and she wondered whether or not it was something to worry about. Then, she paused at one point and decided that it was probably nothing to stress on. I've already been thinking enough. I don't need more in my head, she decided, turning around and padding away.

Maybe I should go back. She shook her head and walked back, tracing her own trail back. It took a few minutes, but at one point she was at the bushes that blocked the clearing away from the rest of the forest. Hootly took a step in, preparing for a loud chatter of cats. What she heard, though, was anything but that.

Forsythia walked into the gathering with a bright expression and anticipation. I wonder what sort of cats the Cliffsiders have. Maybe I could learn more about them. Do they even have any my age? Of course, they should, I mean, look at how many there are! All stocky and Cliffsidery. That's not even a word, I don't think.

"We've got two hours of free time, with no adult cats telling us what to do," Wingbeat sighed, looking around at the clearing.

"Why's there no adult cat telling us what to do? I see plenty of them around here," Wildflower pointed out, flicking her tail.