viii | bottom of the river

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NIGHTKIT | The Outcast

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NIGHTKIT | The Outcast

She could feel something beating against the stones. Water lapped at her paws, surging up the pebbles and fading away again. Her tail drooped into the river. 

The river! 

Nightkit urged herself to stand, to take control of her quivering paws, but she couldn't bring herself to move. She tried to lift her head; she squeezed her eyes open, then shut them as her head slammed back onto the stones. She was shivering, her dark pelt soaked. 

The beating returned, faster. Is that my heartbeat? she wondered.

But no, it seemed to shake the stones underneath her. She let out a soft cry of warning as she recognised the sound. Pawsteps!

She felt the beat slow, daring to open her eyes slightly. She saw a pair of grey paws padding warily towards her. "StarClan, that's a kit!" 

"What do we do!?" 

A light tom's voice responded. "We should take her back to Tidalstar. She's on our territory, after all." 

Am I not in WindClan? Nightkit bit back a wail. As a paw tapped her side, she felt fear surging through her. She blindly dragged her claws over the stones, trying to run. Too shaky, she stumbled and hit the ground, whimpering through her teeth. 

"Don't hurt me!" she finally bit out, throat aching with the effort. 

"We wouldn't hurt kits!" a female gasped. Nightkit squinted, making out golden paws lingering warily behind the grey cat, a calico cat and a brown one even further behind. 

"She won't make it far on her own," another molly offered, voice gruff. 

"Funnelflower and Ripplewing can take of her," the first voice replied, prodding her again. She let out a low whine. 

"Does that hurt?" the second she-cat mewed in alarm. 

"Streamlily, Redtail, can you manage her?" 

"I doubt she'll be heavy," a tom replied. Nightkit felt herself being lifted, and then tossed on the backs of two cats. 

"I can do it by myself," the female mewed. After a moment of hesitation, Nightkit was rolled onto the back of another cat; she opened her eyes to a mottled black and brown pelt, her muzzle between the shoulder blades of the second molly. She dared to glance to her right; the calico tom padded beside them, his tail a stark amber. Nightkit wearily guessed that he had to be Redtail. 

Up ahead, a grey tabby lead the way, sleek and powerful. Their scents stung her nose, bitter with salt and something strange that had to be fish. 

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