Breathe. . .
Breathe . . .
Just keep breathing . . .
It hurt to use her lungs. It hurt to walk. It hurt to do anything.
She was pushing her old body past it's limits. She had no choice, this was her last act as leader, she had to go through with it. For the sake of her Tribe.
Her successor, a large tabby and white tom with green eyes, came up beside her.
"Lean on me," he offered.
"You're not leader yet!" she spat. "I'm fine. I have to do this."
He dipped his head and fell back into line behind her.
Nearly there . . .
Nearly there . . .
She pushed her way through the ferns and collapsed at the entrance to the new camp.
It was beautiful, even at night. The rocky cliff face full of caves, the old twisted thorn bushes and the snowy white and black birch trees surrounding the clearing.
This was the place. Her Tribes new camp. And her place of dying.
Her breathes came out in gasps now, shaking her frail body. Her cats clustered around her. Comforting her, warming her cooling body with their breaths.
"I, have done it," she rasped. "I have, led you home. The Twolegs, won't find you here. You will be safe, able to. . . Rebuild."
She fixed her icy blue gaze on the tabby and white tom.
"Hay Stalk, as Tribe Leader I- I hereby place, The Tribe Of Crashing Waves in your, c-capable paws. Lead them well, let, them, flourish . . ."
Her body grew still, her eyes blank and staring. The waves were waiting for her spirit. Waiting for her to join The Tribe of Dead. She was ready.
Crashing waves filled her ears.
Louder and louder.
The only thing she could hear.
Crashing waves. . .
YOU ARE READING
Cats of The Cliffs
AdventureInspired by the Warriors Series by Erin Hunter. The Tribe of Crashing Waves, named for the sound that they could hear from the town they lived in, have been driven from their home in the old church. Their frail leader, Frosted Eyes, used the last of...
