City of the Adrift // A Warrior Cats Tale

Chapter Eight

A/N: It is so good to be back! I hope that all of you are staying safe and hopefully, like me, spending this time to really reflect on what you're thankful for. And, what I'm most thankful for is this story and all of the patrons on QuizUp who helped make this possible! Through these unprecedented times, I hope to rekindle the fire through Amber and finish her story. And with that said, let's get into Chapter 8!

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 Amber had rested for a couple of days, staying indoors while patrols came and gone. Camille had run her for a feverish greencough, and ordered the young she-cat to stay indoors until she was back to a reasonable temperature. At first, the she-cat was angry that she had to stay inside while the rest of the allegiance was out and about, but after a while Amber enjoyed Camille's company. The older she-cat began to teach her how to treat wounds and make poultices, and Amber found it somewhat satisfying to learn.

Today, Amber awoke to an empty medicine cat den. A chill traveled from the entrance, causing the she-cat to shiver. Blinking several times, she lifted herself up, searching for her morning dose of feverfew.

As she searched through the supply, Scar had walked into the den, looking around. "Camille, I--" she stopped after seeing Amber. "Oh. Hello, Amber."

Amber looked up, blinking happily. "Hello, Scar," the she-cat greeted. "Did you need something?"

Scar shuffled her paws awkwardly. "Uh, yes. Does she still have some alder bark left?"

Amber recalled when Camille showed her that supply telling her it was for toothaches. "Do your teeth hurt?" The she-cat asked, shuffling around the corner of the den.

Scar nodded. "It's through heritage. Sometimes after meals I need to take some to ease the aching on my molars."

"I'm sorry," Amber murmured, grabbing a narrow piece of gray bark in her mouth. She gave it to Scar, who set it down and began to tear at it.

"I've always lived with it, so it's no big deal."

Amber watched as Scar tore the bark apart and chewed it up. The tortoiseshell's large scar on her face was pink, with darker veins of red outstretched in the form of a claw mark. As Scar began to finish her alder bark, Amber spoke up.

"Why did you leave Dreadclan?"

Scar stiffened. She looked up with uncertainty in her eyes. Amber was afraid that she had crossed a line by asking her such a personal question, but before she could apologize, Scar replied.

"You wouldn't imagine the horrors that lay beyond there, Amber."

The she-cat recalled her dreams with Nightmare, imagining that happening to Scar. "What kind of horrors?"

"Horrors that go beyond their laws. Cats in Dreadclan are emotionless, treacherous, and merciless. I left because that lifestyle is unfit for any cat to bear."

Amber gulped. "Why did you ever join, then?"

"I was born into the clan," the scarred she-cat continued. "My parents were slaves to Lacey and her closest allies. Tortured and beat every day, but to them they believed it was the only way to survive. Most cats in the clan don't even realize that the way Lacey treats them is unfair. It's a blood-stained monarchy.

"As a kit I had friends. Growing up in Dreadclan was not too different than any other clan. We were trained as young kits to kill and by the time we were at least eight moons old, we were ready to survive on our own. Lacey preaches that she gives the cats a home, but makes us hunt for her and treat her like a goddess.