Bramblekit's Silence

Chapter one

An unsettling silence fell over the camp, as it always was at night. Inside the dens the faint rumble of snores seemed to be trapped inside the walls of leaf and bramble, hiding away from the black silence of night.

The only thing that moved was the body of a young kit, breathing silent as he watched the moon across the camp, bathing the world in silver alien light. His eyes were amber spots in the shadows, flickering in the blades of grass as they danced to the rhythm of the wind. It gave a sense of secrecy to the cat, his frozen form like a shadow among shadows, the light from his eyes the only thing betraying him. His thick fluffy tail was curled around his paws, never betraying everything like the rest of his body. He, like the rest, never moved, only his fur swayed in the black. Nothing gave him away, except the eyes. Always the eyes.

He did this every night. Away from his clan mates, away from the rustling into the padded silence of darkness. Every night his eyes watched the moon until it reached moon high, and every night he went inside with disappointment. He couldn't remember when he started, all he could remember was him waiting for something to happen. He couldn't remember what, all he knew was that he had to wait outside for something, someone. And he knew that every night he would turn up nothing.

Night was comforting for the kit. There was no one to yell at him, there was no one to cry, no one to be dragged in bleeding with blood from a skirmish. No one to tell him to stop. He desperately wanted to stop, go back to what was before, but he couldn't remember what that was, so he didn't. He had nothing of his past, nothing before the incident, except for one thing. He let himself fall into a memory, the cool outside replaced with pitch black. The stems brushing at his sides replaced with the soft fur of a cat, a cat he knew by heart but seemed so far away.

It was burned into his memory, the scent of lilacs filling through his nose that filled him with such warmth that he felt content, happy, something he seemed to only find in this memory. A tongue lapped at his head cleaning him of dirt, then the smell faded, the fur melting into stems and the twilight replaced with the light of moon-high that shone above the kit. He sighed, getting onto his paws and headed inside, feeling a wave of sadness waft over him.

Though he didn't know why.

-

Bramblekit felt a patch of warm, glossy sunlight egnite the short fur on his nose, rousing him from his sleep. He blinked, stretching his paws to the walls of the den to later get up on them. The den was empty, as it usually was when Bramblekit woke up, the dappled sunlight proving patterns of light to see his way through the den. He could hear the murmur of life from outside, but the silence of the warmly lit nursery basked Bramblekit with a strange contentment that made him linger for a while longer.

Bramblekit blinked as he stuck his head outside the den, the harsh summer light blinding him, though he bravely took steps forward. He stopped, letting the yellow haze slowly melt away, letting him recognize the camp and the cats that inhabited it once more.

How he hated the looks of pity.

They were everywhere, the warriors, the apprentices, the elders. How the cats fell silent as he walked past. How the cats whispered behind him. He didn't know why, all he had ever known were the whispers, the stares. He was used to it, expected it, and he hated it. It was a routine.

Bramblekit ducked between the stems of the grasses, emerging into a cave that smelled of herbs and blood. But he was unaffected by the smell, stepped forward into the coolness of stone and asking the same question every day.

"Is father here?" The ripped up pelt looked up from its post, his pale yellow eyes shining in the half light.

"He just left." That was the reply, it was always the reply. He always came here, and by the time Bramblekit arrived he was always gone. He sometimes couldn't remember his pelt, he'd know it was a flame orange but what color were the stripes, the eyes? He'd rarely hear the sound of his voice, as he was always out with his duties.

Bramblekit had always dreamed of a day with his father, playing moss ball or even just sharing a piece of prey. But that never happened, he woke to find the nest empty and he went to bed to see a pale orange shape in the moss, resembling a hill more than a cat.

"Have you remembered anything?" Shredpelt's gaze was on him, hopefully shining in the blackness.

"Nothing. Only the she-cat." Shredpelt sighed, nudging a pile of dry leaves to Bramblekit's paws.

"Take this to the sick den, please." Bramblekit rolled the leaves up, padding out of the den and into the blinding light. He let himself get adjusted to the harshness, weaving his way through the stems of the footpath to the secluded den among some brambles. He could hear the faint groaning of the cats from beyond the sheave, and with a breath he allowed himself to enter.

Bramblekit visited the medicine cat regularly, and each time he was asked if he could remember anything, and each time he had said no. Then he'd be asked to take herbs to the sick den, and he would drop them just by the entrance where the bloodied paws of wounded cats would drag the herbs in, fighting for them like rats. Bramblekit hated it, he didn't understand why the cats were kept here. He could hear the starving groans from the den, the retching of the cats behind the thorns, the sounds of claws ripping fur. Bramblekit could have gagged at the smell, the smell of pus, blood, death and the rotting of those who had spent their final days in that cage.

He backed out of the den, shaking his head free of the gurgled pleads for food, for water. He couldn't tell how many cats, whose paws belonged to who and whose voice wailed for more. He trudged along the path, taking deep breaths through his nose to try to rid himself of the haunting smell that seemed to terrorize his dreams.

"Move, kit!" Bramblekit darted to the side, hiding among some trees of grass as he watched the patrol flood by. Three cats held up a brown tabby, it's short fur blackened with sickening blood that threatened to make Bramblekit retch. He could see the faint trickle of red seep from a wound on the back of its neck, and it created a path of crimson that sparkled in the sun. As they passed, the tabby's eyes lolled open, its pupils settling on Bramblekit. He blinked, his jaw going slack as if he was about to say something, then eyes closing again as they walked past. The four disappeared into the den, and only three returned.

If you were attacked by ShadowClan, you never survived.

They were vicious cats, their minds clouded with rage who attacked any cat near their territory alone. Their bite was hard enough to kill, and they were so quick that by the time the rest of the cats came, the cat would be dead or dying. Those who lived were taken to the sick den, as cats who had lived grew ruthless just like ShadowClan and would attack themselves. That was the story, and those who were brought in by patrols never left.

Bramblekit sighed softly, following the patrol back down into the camp. The camp belonged to his clan, ThunderClan, and if ShadowClan got their hands on their camp they'd all be dead, or savage. Which was why they had to isolate those who were in attacks. But Bramblekit still hated it, and he wished there was a different way. But that was the will of the leader, and therefore he must follow it.

He stalked among the grass, his pelt brushing the stuff that laced the walls of the camp like vines. His amber eyes followed the movements of the cats, trying to train himself to see through the bright fog, to make out the distant shapes he could hear from the blurriness like it was a mirage. But there was nothing, only the quivering silhouettes like the trees he was told laid beyond that haze.

Bramblekit sucked in a breath through his nose, settling down among the stems to watch a sour-cream tom scamper from behind a den. He disappeared into the blinding light, the other cats a haze in his mind as they continued their daily affairs. His gaze drifted over them as they chattered with each other, letting his thoughts run silent as he watched them.

He wished father would come home.