Warrior Cats: Sprout || Book One

Chapter Seven

The tom was tall and a menacing presence in the dark alleyway. His coat was white but was caked in a layer of grime and smeared with remnants of what appeared to be a greasy chicken haunch; the succulent flesh was what had disguised his scent, as it blended in with the tantalizing aroma wafting from the trash. His tail was long and tufted, as were his ears, which were currently plastered to his skull in a snarl. Taught muscles coiled his limbs; tendons popped and snapped as he moved fluidly towards them. His dirtied pelt was crisscrossed with countless scars from countless sieges. "Trespassers," the tom snarled, yellow eyes glittering with malice. "This is my alley."

His smoldering gaze was fixated only on Lucas, who had been the one to initially disturb the trash cans. "You," he bellowed, his tone dripping with a dangerous potency that Lily did not like at all. "Stay away from my food." 

He's half-starved. Maybe we were a little wrong to have been snooping in his bins. We didn't even known that they were his, though...

The realization swayed Lily almost as much as the vertigo from her seizure was. Ribs were visible under a layer of trembling muscle and ivory fur and his hips jutted out like knives. His tail thrashed side to side and he curled his cracked lips back to reveal a set of long tapering fangs. "Soft-bellied kittypet," he roared. "Stealing my only sustenance when you yourself have some pellets waiting for you at your warm home on a silver platter." His words were drenched with caustic scorn. "So ignorant, all of you." 

Luna's eyes were round and pleading. "Don't hurt us. We'll leave, we promise." 

The tom snorted derisively, hooking his whetted claws into the pliable plastic of a rubbish bag. "I've grown too soft. It's kill or be killed, indirectly or not. The last time I let someone go they came back, stole most of my food, and gave me this." He gestured wildly to the pink gash slicing through the skin of his shoulder.

Lucas winced and Lily instinctively moved closer to her friend. She knew he usually did not appreciate physical contact, but she felt that he needed something even remotely stable to lean on right then. A protective urge surged through her and she positioned herself so she stood slightly in front of the plump ginger tom. 

"So," the white tom continued, "I made a promise to myself that I'd never let another cat slip through my claws if they stole from me again, no matter how much I may disagree with it." He bared his yellowed teeth in a fierce grin. "And I always follow up on my promises."

His gaze slid back to Lucas, and then subsequently to Lily. And he froze.

A million emotions flitted across the tom's face as he gawked at her, his chin bobbing up and down like a gasping fish. His white fur seemed to bristle and smooth down at the same time and his tail straightened in shock. His eyes heralded fury, disbelief, and most of all anguish; beneath it all seemed to be an underlying current of something else. Fear, hurt... love? Lily could not identify it. The burly white rogue retracted his claws and seemed to reach out to her unconsciously, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

Wait, tears? Is he... crying? 

"Get away from my daughter, you bitch!"

Lily's eyes widened and she took a large step back, stunned by the fearless profanity and the show of hostility. A familiar ginger tabby blur whizzed by her silver hide and plowed into the tom's chest, sending him skidding against the pavement; the sound of claws shearing against cement filled Lily's head with a cacophony of harsh noise. Luna visibly flinched at the raucous sound. 

"Missy!" Lily yelped. 

The tom's appearance seemed to have brought out a new side of Missy - a feral one. The ginger she-cat and the white tom were circling each other in predatory stances, malignant growls throttling in their chests. The tom's cruel façade was back up; his coat was rising - as were his hackles. His golden eyes were glossy with ire as he hissed and spat at Missy.