Fandom A Rouge’s Kin

[Chill Alley Cat]

The summer morning air felt hot and muggy on Brutus’ short tabby pelt, the heaviness of the atmosphere making the tom quicken his pace. The uncomfortable hot density of the woods making any cat want to shift and shuffle inside their own skin.

The foliage of weeds and deemed pressed against his underbelly, his large build weighing him to the ground in a crouch as he weaved between oak trees. His large box-like muzzle stuck close to the ground, his jaw slightly parted as he wafted the scent of ThunderClan camp growing nearer.


ThunderClan’s smell is earthy and bold, similar to fresh dirt after a wildfire. The nearing scent made the large tom’s heart quicken, blood pumping to the surface of his skin and cooling under the exposure of wounds where fur no longer grew. His face remained firm and stiff despite the reminder of the newly healed gash across the left side of his face.

He couldn't help but briefly consider if FoxFlint would be disgusted by his new appearance, but quickly buried the thought deep to continue pressing onwards. Reassured that wasn't the type of cat his mate was.

The image of the red she-cat motivated him, the thought of her cunning green eyes welcoming him placing more confidence behind his steps as his eyes set on the camp. The thrill and excitement of imagining what their kits could possibly look like is what encourages him to peek into camp through the coverage of foliage and bushes.


The rogue has never seen the camp this close before, the brightness of the sunlit yellow dirt clearing making him squint. The sandstone sides nearly dropped before slowing to a tilt, green and yellow bushes littering the sides. Large boulder-like stones stuck out from the cliffside, casting a shadow across the vacant clearing.

No cat seemed to really awake at the moment, the sun just crawling over the horizon as he scanned for FoxFlint. Just then, a short she-cat left her den, located in a hole along the cliff edge, dragging out the smell of herbs with her.

FoxFlint had told him about medicine cats, where they cure illnesses with rubbing plants on cuts. He didn't quite get it or believe it to work, but the memory of her visits where she smelt of herbs during her pregnancy drew him to the den.


His ear twitches at the sound of the medicine cat’s paw steps crunching on the dry dirt.

He crawls in as her steps grow silent, entering another den across the clearing. Brutus’ large blunt claws carefully grasped at the dry sandstone and slinked into the small den, his limbs close to his chest and stomach in fear his size would give him away.

He knew it would be smartest to follow FoxFlint’s advice, to wait for her by the under grove of roots and flowers where they’d always meet before going through with their plan. He couldn't help but feel rushed however, the days long tardiness of his mate and the threat of his ex-bandmates chasing him out of the nooks of the territory forcing him here.

Covered in dry caked-on mud, in hopes to cover his scent, and small round leaves and twigs tangled his fur and scratched at his skin.


He sniffed the air to try and originated himself in the den made of sandstone, herbs pinned and piled along the walls, and smaller tunnels branching from this one dwelling into darkness. His muzzle wrinkles in disgust, feeling cramped, before catching a whiff of a distinct scent.

Bold and strong, a tangle of onions and spice. FoxFling was nearby, or at least had been, he thought, as the smell was lost again to the overbearing herbs of the cave.

Taking a left, he dived deeper into the dimmer tunnels where his eyes had to adjust. Large nests and foliage litter the ground, clumping along corners and sides of the den, looking cozier than any place Brutus has ever slept.



“Mew?” chirped a minuscule little thing among the nests.

The large tom froze, worried he had been caught before even setting eyes on FoxFlint, only to turn and face a small black kitten.

The pile of velvety leaves and tangle moss she rested on smelt of milk and, more importantly, FoxFlint. He crouched down further then he already had to, the space much too small for his liking, to better smell the best. All the while the kit’s big eyes followed him keenly.

His short gray fur pressed against the tunnel’s sandstone walls, his neck craning down to meet the kitten’s eye line. Who seemed deeply intrigued by the gesture.

The black lit felt small, and impossibly fragile, as if laying a single hair on her would shatter her into a million species. Despite the dim lighting, Brutus could tell there was a red tone to her shiny coat with glossy glass-like nails to match.

As he tried to inspect her pelt further, squinted his eye as he leaned forward, she met halfway. The kitten letting out a childish giggle as their noses touch and her fangs stuck out from her mouth in a goofy smile.


As her yellow eyes creased, the tom couldn't help but be stunned, looking into her yellow eyes to find they mimicked his own. His pelt warmed at the realization, sitting up abruptly causing his ears to brush against the den’s roof.

This was his kin, the thought itself releasing a bright warm feeling of joy and pride in his chest that he had to bottle up for a moment, looking around and scanning for his mate.

The two of them had planned to come to camp together after their kitten’s arrival, but now FoxFlint seemed nowhere to be found. Before concern could begin to turn over in his head, his hackles raised as his heart jumped to his throat as another cat’s presence was made known.


“Who in Starclan’s name are you?!” yowled loudly the short red and gray she-cat, her mouth parted in a snarl and her claws drawn as her tail wildly thrashed about between her stout legs.

 

[Jailyn]

Sootpelt yawned and stretched in his nest as he slowly awoke. His yellow eyes blinked against the pale light that filtered in to the warriors den as he pushed himself to sit upright. Sleep still clung to the corners of his mind and body, making his movements lazy as he twisted his head to clean his thick pelt.

Birdsong hung on the air, telling him the sun had well risen and making him eager to start the day. He had finally stood, shaking a few scraps of stubborn moss from his fur, when he heard shouting from the camp.

Heart already racing, Sootpelt dashed out of the warriors den. His gaze swept the camp until it finally rested in the direction of the medicine den. A few clan cats had reached it prior to him leaving his den and he could see their pelts beginning to bristle, even from a distance.

The large tom's paws raced across the clearing until he had reached the crowd and he gently shoulder past a few of his clanmates to see what was going on. Confusion fogged him at first when he only saw their medicine car standing in the entrance to their den, pelt bristling and claws gleaming in faint light.

However, as he peer closer, he saw. A large shadowy figure of a cat was inside the den. Massive and taking up a majority of the den. Their eyes faint gleamed in the dark and Sootpelt felt his own pelt bristle and puff up. His long claws dug in to the dirt as he hissed, "Get out of the shadows!"

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

Startled by the medicine cat’s sudden appearance, he rose to his full height, hissing, with his fur bristled and a single paw in front of the now scared kit. The action causing the tom to harshly knock his head on the ceiling of the den, an irritated growl leaving his parted jaws.

Spooked by the noise the she-cat britsled further, snapping at the tom again.
“You’re in Thunderclan territory!” She warned as she stepped back, her volume gratting on his ears as it drew the attention from the rest of camp.


His yellow eyes narrowed at her tone, finding it insulting, as he brought a paw up to soothe his coming headache, his muzzled reared back into a snarl. Despite feeling ready to snap at the she-cat in reaction, the tom held back with a deep breath of air as the sound of stirring warriors neared.

He tried to scan the forming group for FoxFlint, only to find her red pelt missing, much to his annoyance.


“Get out of the shadows!" commanded a voice among the small crowd, Brutus unable to pinpoint who said it in the dimness of the den.

His eyes flickered back to the kit, who looked visible shaken by the commotion, her ears held back in worry and her eyes watery made the tom’s heart feel heavy in way he never experienced.

‘Time to face the music.’ thought the tom with a sigh, only comforted by the fact he wouldn’t have to go through this mess alone with his mate by his side.


He blinked as his eye adjusted to the light of the medicine den’s entrance, the gray and red she-cat stepping away into the clearing to join the safety of the others.

His muscles tensed, ready to defend himself from the attacks of paranoid clan cats, as he walked forward facing the angry group of warriors.


He kept his face stiff and held himself high despite the quickening of his heartbeat, his yellow eyes scanning the clan for any sign of the red she-cat.

‘Great first impressions’ He thought sarcastically, regretting not taking FoxFlint’s advice and annoyed at himself for his own impatience.

After waiting a moment for the group of cats to calm down, he voiced in as calm of a tone he could manage.

“Where is FoxFlint?”

 

[Jailyn]

Sootpelt watched every flicker of movement he could detect from the shadowed cat, ready to leap to protect the clan even if it meant fighting in the confined space of the medicine den. Luckily, it wasn't long after he had spoke that the large cat began to leave the medicine den.

Sootpelt, as well as the rest of the clan, took a few paw steps back as a large tom came in to the light. The warrior couldn't help but be amazed by his size. Many of their warriors were big cats, Sootpelt being one of the larger ones, but this scarred tom was still pretty large compared to them.

However, that didn't stop his claws from digging gouges in the earth beneath his paws as he snarled at the intruder, teeth glinting. Even with the size difference, he was sure he could take him. This only looked to be a Rouge and even with his size, he would be no match for any Thunderclan warrior.

The name the tom spoke caused the clan cats to tense up. They knew her fate and by the fact this stranger knew her name, he could guess who he was. Her mate. When she had found out she was going to have kits, FoxFlint had made no effort to hide that their father was a rogue. The clan had been far from happy. Even Sootpelt had been angry, although he had been doing basically the same thing not long after.

It seemed that the rest of the clan was putting the points together as they calmed down some, although none fully relaxed. Silence fell over the cats, none wanting to speak of FoxFlint's fate. Regardless of what she had done, she was a fine warrior and no cat wanted to lose her. Many even claimed that it was a punishment from Starclan, for allowing this to happen. Sootpelt felt a shudder run down his spine at the thought.

For a few, long moments, it felt as if even the forest around them didn't dare to move. It was their medicine cat who finally stepped forward. Their head had been hung low as they moved forward but as they reached only a few tail lengths away from the tom, they rose their gaze to meet his. "FoxFlint died during her kitting."

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

Brutus could've sworn he went deaf for a moment as soon as the medicine cat spoke, because it was the only reasonable explanation behind the total silence and complete stillness of all the forest.

He could've sworn he was fine just a moment ago, the noise of the shuffling between the warriors’ pelts, the whispers they shared, their paws along the dry dirt, the birdsong. It was as if nothing in the forest dared to make a sound, except for the blood pumping through his ears.


He looked at the medicine’s cat pitiful look, and for a single moment thought it was a joke. FoxFlint dying while knitting? That was laughable at best, only a moron could imagine a cat as strong and bold as FoxFlint succumbing to something so mundane.

This idiotic she-cat must think she’s funny, or that he’s stupid enough to fall for that. She was the same cat who said he was on Thunderclan territory despite being obviously so. She must have thought of him no better then the dirt she was standing on.


“What?”

When the stubby little cat only responded with silence, shrinking back a bit pathetically, the tabby refused to believe he was feeling anything other then pure red rage.


He shook his pelt, trying to casual rid of the fuming heat of his anger, only to find it didn't do away. It burned so ferociously, it felt like his insides were boiling.





In a very brief moment, however, he took a single breath and felt as cold as ice. As stiff as corpse, he spoke.

“Well, I suppose that’s that then.”




“...Where is your leader?”

 

[Jailyn]

No cat moved for another several moments. Sootpelt's gaze scanned the gathered clan. Their leader hadn't joined in with the group of cats, but as he looked towards the leaders den he saw their eyes glinting from the shadows.

The large Tom's words called the leader out of the shadows and Sootpelt watched as the thin, light brown tom emerged from the shadows of the leader den. Brackenstar. The clan parted slightly, allowing the tom to easily slip through them.

"So you're the rogue who fathered FoxFlint's kit?" It was a rhetorical question of course, the leader knew the answer. He padded slowly around the large tom, not showing any sign that he was intimidated by their different in size.

After circling the large tom a few more times, he stood in front of him and looked up at him with stone grey eyes. "Why have you snuck in to my camp? Do you expect to leave with your kit now thar FoxFlint is dead?"

Brackenstar's voice was level a calm, but his eyes glinted fiercely. Although the kit may have been only half Thunderclan, it was still Thunderclan and the leader wasn't going to see any kit of his clan taken by any cat, especially rogues.

Sootpelt's pelt prickled with unease as he watched the interaction. His claws were still sunk in to the dirt beneath his paws and he slowly kneaded the ground, leaving gouges in the earth as he watched.

He couldn't help but be worried about how this rogue would react. After all, the clans history with rogues wasn't the greatest. However, he knew that the clan was ready to fight at even the slightest indication of things turning sour.

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

Brutus felt like puking, internally still reeling in a way that made his head feel dizzy and his chest heavy. He felt like his fur was drenched in water that kept him sunken in frozen lake, unable to tell which way was up.

It was as if sensation of fire crawling up his esophagus was the only thing that grounded the tabby at all, so he grasped at the growing knot in his throat to speak. Using the brief sensation of numbness to communicate.


“I planned on no such thing.” The tabby growled truthfully at the lean brown tom, guessing him to be the leader by the way the others had parted for his arrival.

The motion was deeply tempting, though now impossible. The idea of returning to his band, welcomed in again by his lifelong friends and brothers, was destroyed as the cool breeze chilled his worn face.

FoxFlint and him planned a life in ThunderClan, the she-cat unwilling to budge on the idea of rouge life much to his dismay. He never understood the appeal it held for the she-cat, whose free spirit only seemed trapped but the constrictions of clan life.


That little black kitten was the only family he had left. Even the thought of leaving her behind, completely alone, made him outraged.

“I will stay put, become a warrior here..” He spoke, as if considering it himself before gaining confidence. Following FoxFlint’s plan no matter what.

“I’ll kill you if you even think of dragging me out.” He hissed, unmoving on his stance as he looked down of the pale brown tom.

 

[Jailyn]

Sootpelt felt his body tense as he watched the interaction between the two toms. A low growled rumbled in his throat when the large tom treated his leader. How  dare he. And in the middle of the camp. He may have been massive, but he was once again sure that the clans warriors could take him.

Even as his anger began to grow, a flick of Brackenstar's tail caused him to quiet. Their leader was signaling for them to relax, put aside their hostility. Sootpelt wanted to do anything but that, however he listened to his leader. He let the growl in his chest die down and forced his hackles to lie flat.

Brackenstar eyed the large tom once more before chuckling softly. "It isn't wise to threaten the leader of the clan you wish you join," He pointed out before continuing, "But I will grant your wishes. You may become a warrior of Thunderclan so you can stay with your kin. However, that means following the warrior code and shedding all of your rogue ways, including your name."

Slowly, he turned to face his clan. They were all gathered around him so he found no need to call a meeting. Most all of them had heard him tell the tom he could stay and they eyes shown fiercely, a mix of emotions filling the crowd.

The Thunderclan leader knew this wouldn't be a popular decision among his clan, but he hated to admit that it was necessary. The threat of rogues was steadily increasing and their number dwindling because one chose to join them was welcome. Of course, he had to admit having a warrior of his size on their side was welcome as well.

"Cats of Thunderclan," He started, gazing over his cats, "This cat was FoxFlint's mate, as you may all know. He was a rogue but now wishes to join the ranks of Thunderclan to be with his kin. We will welcome his, as long as he chooses to follow the warrior code."

Steadily, he turned around once again to face the large tom and address him. "Clan life will be much different than that of a rogue. You will no longer be fighting for just your survival. You will fight and hunt for the clan. You will learn to live by the warrior code and protect this clan, even if it means your life. If you accept these terms, you will be given a warrior name. However, if you refuse, I will give my warriors the order to chase you from our territory and you will never be allowed to step paw in this forest."

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

Brutus felt unbothered by the stares of disapproval he earned from the warriors, the cats that had come to gather around the commotion now glaring at his with parted teeth and knitted brows.

The rest of the clan began to stir, rising as the leader’s voice sounded and the round yolk-like sun rose.


Distain wrinkled his muzzle as the leader continued to speak, finding the way he spoke pretentious and too formal. He barely listened, struggling to even make the effort to as everyone spoke of FoxFlint in the past tense.

Giving up his name and livelihood felt wrong, as if stripping him of his pelt, flesh, and all that made him into the cat he was today. He thought of how he choose his own name as a young tom, surrounded by his good comrades under the night sky when they were all still stupid and naive.

The memory now felt left a bitter a taste in his mouth, the massive tabby looking to the ground in fear the leader would realize, looking into his eyes, he truly had no other options.


“Understood.” He spoke in a low tone with a nod, accepting the leader’s proposition. The action drenching Brutus in guilt, already missing the friendship and freedom he had amongst his fellow rogues.

At least with FoxFlint by his side, he wouldn’t be completely alone. Now he had to sacrifice all that he once was, and for who?


The idea of that black kitten, hidden away into the corners of the medicine den, made him stay put. His blunts claws scratching at the dry yellow dirt in attempt to get his brings.

“Is that all?” Brutus asks, exhausted.

 

[Jailyn]

Brackenstar nodded at the toms confirmation of everything he had said "From this moment forward, you will be known as BarbedMask. We welcome you as a warrior of Thunderclan and hope that Starclan may guide your path as you learn the ways of clan life." He dipped his head to the tom as he turned to the rest of the clan.

"Although we are welcoming BarbedMask as a full clan warrior, he will still need a cat to teach him the ways of the clan," the brown toms eyes scanned the group of cats, "DappleShine, please step forward."

A dark brown tabby she cat stepped out of the crowd. Sootpelt watched her move. It was his littermate, a kind she-cat and the black tom instantly understood his leaders choice. She was as fiercely loyal as any clan can, but she was a gentle soul. Regardless of her dislike of rogues or this time, she wouldn't let that stop her from helping him get used to clan life.

"DappleShine, you are a loyal warrior and I hope you will impart some of that loyalty on to BarbedMask. Now, he is not your apprentice in the normal sense but I hope that you will teach him the clan ways as you would for any other cat," Brackenstar spoke gently to the she-cat.

DappleShine dipped her head to the tom, "Of course BrackenStar." With that, Bracknstar dipped his head to his clan once more before heading back towards his den. Sootpelt watched him for a moment before his gaze turned to watch DappleShine as she approached the large tom.

He couldn't help but be worried for his sister. It kept him rooted in his spot as he watched her begin to speak to BarbedMask. "Hello. I'm DappleShine," the shecat introduced herself, "I know you may be tired, but it's best I show you around the camp before you rest." Her gaze briefly went to the sky, "After sun high, once it cools down some, I will take you to see the territory and borders."

Sootpelt couldn't help but be glad that they were staying in the clan for now. It was safer that way. Shaking his pelt to rid himself of the irritation he felt of this cat being welcomed to the clan, he began to head towards the camp entrance. He wanted to hunt, it would help rid him of some of his excess energy and the clan needed to be fed regardless. When he gazed at the fresh kill pile, he saw its meager size and his stomach rumbled. Yep, definitely needed the fresh kill.

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

The ear twitched and his tail coiled at the sound of his new name, grimacing for a moment as he flushed with self-consciousness. He was tempted to put a paw up to his face, wanting to test the freshness of his newest scar that split his face and cost him his eye.

He wondered if BarbedMask ever would feel like his name, but he heavily doubted.


He sat down, the bending of his back legs spending much more energy and effort then he liked to admit. Although the morning just started, the scarred tabby felt worn and drained. The turmoil of burning hot rage and the freezing numbness, all while being dunked in a reservoir of pain, left him lightheaded.

His mind debated between wanting to drop to the floor in the middle of the clearing, begging for a moment alone to private himself, or running away into a sprint and screaming at the sky til his whole body burned, never wanting to even begin processing the news he just learned.

Too tired to do either, he sat. Only catching bits and pieces of what the tom said, until a dark brown striped she-cat spoke to him.


BarbedMask nodded in response to the she-cat, wanting to groan in irritation at the thought of being awake any longer. He held back, too tired and bothered to make his displeasure known.

“Let’s hurry along then.” he huffed, standing up, his greenish-yellow eyes flickering back into the medicine den, hesitant to have it out of his sight.

 

[Jailyn]

DappleShine eyed him for a few moments. Like any other clan cat, she wasn't a fan of rogues but now, BarbedMask was her clanmate. Regardless of his past, if Brackenstar trusted him enough to join the clan then she would treat him like a member of the clan.

"Alright," she started, "That's the medicine cat den." She flicked her tail to the herb scented den her had came out of, "Our medicine cat, Rustleap stays there. As well as any cats that are sick, injured, or just need the help of her." She flicked her tail towards the high rock.

"That's the high rock. It's where the clan leader, Brackenstar, usually calls clan meetings. The hanging lichen there covers the entrance to his den." She padded forward until they were infront of the apprentice den.

"This is the apprentice den. Once a kit reaches 6 moons, they are given their apprentice name and begin training under a mentor until they are trained enough to be warriors," she explained gently and motioned to the nursery.

"Over there is the nursery. Any nursing Queens and kits will live there," she stopped herself short of saying that was where FoxFlint would have been staying, not wanting to cause the tom anymore heartache.

"Over there are the warriors and elders den. When a warrior feels as though it is their time to retire, they move from the warriors den to the elders den. Once you are ready to settle down and rest, you can choose a nest in the warriors den. However, the nests closer to the center of the den and usually reserved for our more senior warriors," Finally, Dappleshine made her way to the fresh kill pile.

"Now this is where the clan puts any prey they catch while hunting. When I show you around the territory later we can do some hunting as well but for now, you can grab something to eat and find a nest to rest in," she picked up a mouse herself, carrying it over to eat in front of the warriors den. "If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask me," she purred gently.

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

The tom’s yellow eye lingered on the she-cat for a moment, entirely unsure what to do with this information at the moment as it felt purposeless. His gaze shifted from DappleShine to her prey, the thought of food sliding down his gullet making him feel sick.

After uncomfortable bid of silence exchanged between the two, he gave a minuscule nod to the warrior and turn around. Pacing back to the medicine den as the waking clan’s eyes drilled into his back.


He only payed mind to the medicine cat, the tortoiseshell cat who stunk of herbs and sat aside the sandstone entrance. She looked a bit hesitant to let him go back inside the den, as if wanting to say something, but made no motion to stop him.
Her green eyes turning away from BarbedMask and dragging her gaze across the dry ground.


The den felt bigger somehow when he returned, the deflation of his chest and the way to held his head a touch lower making the space ever so slightly less cramped.

He ducked under the roof of the deepening tunnel, every step feeling heavier than the last. His eyes setting on the black kitten, shuffling and wiggling about in their nest in discomfort.

His heart pang at the sight, his legs quickly crumbling under him carelessly as he lay beside the kit. Guilt stricken.

Guilty for abandoning his lifelong friends and the hurt he caused them by leaving.
Guilty for leaving his own mate to die alone, by his own paw.
And guilty for not feeling anything but sheer joy as he looked at the little fuzzy kitten.


Carefully pulling into the nest, feeling a bit nauseous at the thought of getting too close to the delicate newborn. He briefly wondered what FoxFlint would’ve named her, before a comfortless sleep consumed him.

 

[Jailyn]

Dappleshine's gaze tracked the large tom as he seemed to decide not to eat and went towards the medicine den. He watched him until he disappeared into the shadowed tunnel before turning her focus on her meal.

BarbedMask seemed a decent cat, even if he may have been a rogue. She couldn't fully trust him, not yet at least. However, he seemed as though he cared greatly for the small kit that lay in the medicine den and for FoxFlint, who had passed not long ago. She took that as a sign that the cat wouldn't try to harm his new clan.

The sun was steadily rising in the sky, warming the air, as Sootpelt crept through the undergrowth of Thunderclan's territory. He picked up many prey trails and soon found himself following after one of a shrew.

His paws landed softly on the ground and he came to a stop as he spotted the prey, scuffling amongst the grass beneath a tree. He crept ever closer before pouncing, killing it with a swift bite.

The taste made his mouth water but he held back from eating it. The clan must be fed first. He found a shaded spot and covered the prey to return and collect it later. As he thought of the clan, his pelt prickled.

He disliked the fact that the rogue was back at camp, regardless that Brackenstar had accepted him. He couldn't begin to understand why he had been accepted by their leader so easily. Maybe because FoxFlint would have vouched for him, maybe Starclan had given him a sign. He wasn't sure but he didn't like it.

With a huff, he shook out his pelt and continued to search for prey. It didn't take him long before he had caught a mouse and a squirrel to take back. He returned to gather his shrew before heading back towards the camp.

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

Minor TimeSkip to later in the day//

BarbedMask awoke from the worst rest of his life, feeling more tired than before after heaving himself awake from a nightmare that made his head ache to remember. The tom groggily groaned, irritation crawling up his pelt as he blinked the sleep from his eye.

The unwelcome emotions that came with the tom’s consciousness began to flood him. His hackles raised and blunt claws unsheathing as complete and total dismay returned.

The tabby lifted his head, his skull weighing down on his neck. As BarbedMask sat up, he turned his gaze down to his kit. The black kitten curled into a tiny ball of fuzz at his stomach.

A very brief sense of relief eased him ever so slightly, the tom curling in further around the kitten and wrapping a tail around her black pelt.


The sense of consolation didn't last long, the scarred tabby shifting in the nest. Scanning the dimly lit tunnels of the medicine den, then looking back down to the small kit curled between his limbs.

‘How am I supposed to do this?’
The tom’s brow knitted together, concern now gnawing at his pelt. He was, at best, surrounded by strangers where odd rules and restrictions rule their lives. At worst, vengeful enemies.

He thought of the comforts of his comrades, and how he would be able to count on them. How would Tangle help him watch over her, as his best friend?
What would Ebony’s advice be, being a mother once herself?
And the others would surely get the hang of it, learning together what’s best for the kit on his arms..


He shook that train of thought away, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

He lowered his head once more unto the nest, burying his muzzle into the fading smell of onions and spice. The scent is no longer comforting.


Before his mind could further dwell into turmoil, the kit began to squirm and mewl. Temporarily distracting the tom.
He gave a few laps of his tongue across her tiny coat in an attempt to comfort the stirring kitten back to sleep.

“Everything alright here?” asked RustLeap, poking her head into the tunnel. Still keeping a safe distance from BarbedMask.

 

[Jailyn]

After returning from his first hunt, Sootpelt had finally eating before heading out once again. His pelt prickled with unease whenever he was in camp, thinking of the rogue that their leader had easily welcomed, so he found that heading back in to the forest helped to relax him. Albeit only a little.

He had decided to take longer this time, drinking in the familiar scents of the territory and relishing in the warmth of the rising sun seeping in to his pelt. He was unsure how long he had actually been out there before he finally decided to take all the prey he had caught on this second outing back to camp.

The camp was quiet as he padded through the entrance and he couldn't help but be relieved to see that the rogue hadn't stirred up any trouble. Yet, at least. He was dropping his prey on the fresh kill pile, pleased to see that it was now decently sized. Thanks to his earlier meal, he found he wasn't that hungry and found a patch of sun outside the warriors den to relax in.

As the sun warmed his pelt, his gaze lazily swept the camp and he caught sight of Dappleshine padding across camp towards the medicine den.

Dappleshine had rested herself after eating and felt full of energy. She hoped that BrambleMask had rested well enough to be able to patrol the territory as she gingerly entered the shadowed den. She spotted Rustleap a little distance away from the large tom. After a moment, she cleared her throat to announce her presence.

"Sorry to interrupt, Rustleap but I need to take Bramblemask and show him around the territory," she spoke softly, dipping her head respectfully to the medicine cat. Once Bramblemask was finally ready and following her, she lead him towards the entrance and out in to the territory.

Sootpelt watched the pair go and his pelt prickled with unease. He knew that his litter mate could handle herself, she was a fine warrior, but he disliked the tom from the moment he saw him and would prefer he wasn't in their territory at all. His tail lashed irritably, sending up small clouds of dust, as he started at the entrance where they had disappeared through.

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

BarbedMask scanned the tortoiseshell cat, the medicine cat shifting under the intense gaze of his singular yellow eye.

“...She may be hungry.” RustLeap pointed out with a stiff smile, wary of the huge ex-rouge's presence near the tiny meowing kit. The tabby squints at her, pausing in the middle of his grooming before lifting his head.


“Okay.” BarbedMask huffed before sending the two back into silence. Much to RustLeap’s discomfort, forcing her to longer at the dim tunnel’s entrance.

The tom knew he’d have to rely on the clan’s queen eventually to help care for the black kitten, but he felt a strong aversion to leaving her in the paws of a stranger.

The only clan cat he ever trusted enough to near was FoxFlint. Finding all other clan cats to be a mix between pretentious or sky-worshipping lunatics. It felt foolish and dangerous to let anyone near his kin, but his pelt itched with reluctance and dread as he came to realize it was now his only option.


He gave the nameless kit a quick lap on her forehead, causing it to mewl in confusion, before freeing RustLeap from the silence accumulating in the den.

“-so she’ll be with a she-cat to feed?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes! MothPurr is our current queen at the moment so she’ll-”


"Sorry to interrupt, Rustleap but I need to take Bramblemask and show him around the territory," A brown tabby cut in, DappleShine’s taller build blocking the tunnel entrance in comparison to RustLeap.

BrambleMark growled at her digression under his breath, his brow knitted together in annoyance. The tom had completely forgotten their hunt, now finding it to be the least important thing on his mind.


“Oh! No problem, DappleShine.” RustLeap responded, returning the warrior’s respectful nod. Taking a few cautionary steps toward the best, her maw reached out to grab the kit.

“I’ll just take her to MothPur-” RustLeap squeaked a bit as BarbedMask instinctively snapped his teeth at the nearing she-cat. The healer quickly backing off.

The tom slowly unfurled himself from the tiny now flattened nest, making sure to not further disturb the awoken kit. Even as he stood by the kit, he felt unwilling to leave as if stuck in sinking mud.


It created an awkward pause, RustLeap fidgeting as the warrior looked at the tom expectantly. He dragged himself out from the dimly lit tunnel, his pelt dragging on the walls, and watching RustLeap with scrutiny.

He felt as refreshed as a half-buried corpse, with paranoia nipping at his tail as the medicine den left his eye line.


The glares pointing at him didn't much help, the clearing full of staring cats. He wasn’t too concerned if they disliked him, - as that was already apparent - but worried it would transfer to the ill-treatment of his kit.

Despite her supposedly being one of their own according to their leader whose name he still couldn't quite place or remember, she was still “half-blooded”, or whatever nonsense they called it.

He remembers a few instances during FoxFlint’s pregnancy, where she had to face the cruel disapproval of her own classmates. The constant fear of StarClan’s wrath gnawing at her pelt, with only her mate to tell under her unphased exterior.


Concern quickly melted away for disdain to take its place, a shimmer of hatred boiling beneath his heart as he left camp. Not bothering to turn back.

“Let’s move this along.” He rushed DappleShine, his tail flickering behind him with his ears flattened.

 

[Jailyn]

Dappleshine flicked her tail at Barbedmask, a bit irritated by his current mood and how he snapped at Rustleap. Once they had gotten a little farther from camp, she glanced over at him. She was a kind cat, sure, but she wasn't going to tolerate him mistreating her clanmates.

"Your kit is going to be well cared for by Mothpurr," she started as the continued through the forest, "But if you are going to act like you did with Rustleap in the medicine den, the clan will continue to grow hatred towards you and by extension, your kit." Her tone was gentle, but she wanted to make sure her words were understood and continued before he could say anything.

"No cat will hold any ill feelings towards a kit. Half clan or not. Foxflint was a respected warrior, regardless of the choices she made. Her kit, your kit, will grow to be a fine warrior but you must let the clan care for her." She paused in her walking as they reached four trees.

"Now, lets focus on the task at hand and please pay attention," she purred softly as she gazed up at the four, tall oaks, "This is four trees. Every full moon the clans gather here under peace for a meeting. We share news between clans and as long as the full moon shows, there's is peace."

She padded through the clearing until the were at the edge of the trees, moorland stretching out in front of them. "The moorland is Windclan territory, can you scent their border markers?" She question, turning her gaze on the large tom.

At camp, Sootpelt had finally stopped staring at the entrance, needing to find something else to focus his mind on. He caught glimpse of Rustleap leaving the nursery and suspected that Foxleaps kit had finally been moved in there to be care for by Mothpurr.

His gaze briefly went to the sky, the sun still shown brightly but was slowly sinking in the sky. Brackenstar would likely be choosing warriors for the evening patrol soon. As if his thoughts summoned him, Sootpelt watched as their leader appeared from his den, flicking his tail towards his Deputy, Lightningstrike, a golden colored she-cat with bright yellow eyes.

Sootpelt hesitated for a moment before approaching the pair. He paused a tail length away, allowing the two to converse before Brackenstar acknowledged him with a flick of his tail, beckoning him forward.

He dipped his head respectfully to his leader before speaking, "Brackenstar, I'd like to join the evening patrol if the cats going haven't been chosen yet."

The leader nodded his head, "Lightningstrike and I were just deciding on the patrol. She'll lead the patrol and take you, along with Whitewhisker and Fernpaw." Sootpelt nodded gratefully in response and once the leader flicked his tail to dismiss him, he made his way over to the freshkill pile.

It wouldn't be long until the patrol would start to gather, which meant he wouldn't be able to do much else so getting in a meal before hand was his best bet. He picked up a plump looking pigeon from the pile and found a patch of fading sunlight to lay in to eat.

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

The two warriors left camp silently, DappleShine a tail-length ahead of BarbedMask as she led them forward toward the northern part of the territory. The small creek departing from Riverclan’s border just out of sight to their left, the water shallow from the summer heat.

The sounds of cicadas swarmed the summer sky, the patches of sun that decorated the dry orange dirt warmed their paws. It looked unusual in this new lighting to tom, the ex-rogue used to seeing the territory in the darkness of dawn and dusk.



“Your kit is going to be well cared for by MothPurr..” She began to say, taking pause.
By the time DappleShine broke the stillness between, the two were met at the fork of the creek where it disappeared under the bridge of the thunder path.

"-But if you are going to act like you did with Rustleap in the medicine den, the clan will continue to grow hatred towards you and by extension, your kit."
The brown tabby said in a non-confronting tone, beginning to cross the dried-up creek by walking across the bank of pebbles and red dirt.

BarbedMask’s ear flicked with a twitch of his frown, annoyed at the implied threat towards his kin but too tired to address it.

He may have taken her words into more consideration, but he couldn't help but not feel too guilty for mildly spooking RustLeap. Especially since she was approaching his kitten suddenly with open jaws. He was sure that even mothers and fathers within the clan would have done the same, wary of anyone near their kin.


"No cat will hold any ill feelings towards a kit. Half clan or not.-”
He heavily doubted this.
“-Foxflint was a respected warrior, regardless of the choices she made. Her kit, your kit, will grow to be a fine warrior but you must let the clan care for her." DappleShine attempted to reassure him as she continued uphill, the tom’s ears flattening at the mention of his mate.

The gray tabby snorted under his breath at the warrior’s wording of “regardless of her choices”, as if their decision to become mates and start a family was the reckless action of two naive cats. A misconception shared between both Thunderclan and his ex-bandmates.

However, he saw the she-cat’s good intentions. Albeit her biased view of her own clanmates.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” BarbedMask settled for, too tired to be mad at the moment. His anger from waking up this morning slowly leaving him, now too empty to argue.



The two tabby cats approach four massive trees, each of different varieties but all matching in size. A mixture of willow vines, oak branches, twisted pine, and crooked marsh roots.

The tom remembered this place from a visit years ago. His brother, Tangle, and his good friend, Duke, getting into a friendly sparring before getting chased off by Windclan cats. The pleasant memory making his heart a tad heavy.

He scanned the area as she spoke of the “fourtrees” and the full moon, looking into the prairies in reminiscence. DappleShine seemed to follow his gaze, pointing out the rolling hills of the moorland.

“Can you scent their border markers?”


BarbedMask completely forgot about how clans scent their territory, rogues typically valuing staying low and undetected.

“How soon till we head back to Thunderclan?” He questioned, eager to get back to the medicine den. His fur rubbed along tall blades of grass with the scent of salt and creek water, looking up at DappleShine uphill.

 

[Jailyn]

Dappleshines tail flicked at his question, "Once we are done with the tour." As she padded along the border, heading in the direction of Riverclan's border, she gazed at the sky. "Well, as much of it as we can today. We will have to head back out tomorrow for me to show you the rest," she explained.

"Now, this is Riverclan's border," she explained as she walked along it. She didn't bother to question him about their scent markers, he would learn them in time it seemed. She pointed out a few things as they walked but didn't stop until they reached sunning rocks.

"These are the sunning rocks. Riverclan often fights us for them, they're good for hunting, but as of right now, they belong to Thunderclan," a small scuffling among the rocks caused her to pause. Swiftly, she lowered herself in to a hunting crouch and moved forward. After another moment, she pounced, straightening up with a water vole in her jaws.

She padded over to Barbedmask and laid it at his paws, "Here. Eat. I've noticed you haven't eaten much since you arrived and you'll be no use to the clan half starved." She padded a few mouse lengths away and sat down, curling her tail around her paws as she groomed herself. It was a nice excuse for a break from all the walking as well.

Sootpelt found himself closing to dozing off when he noticed the cats for the patrol beginning to gather at the entrance. He got to his paws, taking a moment to stretch, before making his way over to join them. Briefly, he gazed around the camp, his pelt itching when he noticed Dappleshine hadn't returned.

He had to force his worries down. He knew that territory tours could take long and he was sure BarbedMask wasn't the most enthusiastic about being away from his kit at the moment if the way he acted leaving camp was any indication. He knew he would only have to truly worry if he returned from the patrol and she still hadn't returned.

"Sootpelt, you coming?" His gaze snapped towards the entrance to see Lightningstrike watching him, the other cats of the patrol disappearing through the entrance. "Yes, sorry," He said quickly, leaping to his paws and following after. He couldn't help but gaze around as they left the entrance tunnel but didn't see any sign of returning cats. Grunting to himself, he shook his head to clear it and raced forward to catch up with the patrol that was disappearing in to the undergrowth.

 

[Chill Alley Cat]

BarbedMask didn't attempt to hide the disappointment on his face in response but followed behind DappleShine without complaint. The two turned back downhill from the Fourtrees and walked beside the creek.

The creek began shallow and thin, barely trickling under the asphalt road, before slowly growing in size. The stream’s depth and width increased as they padded down south, the sun crawling down from its place in the sky.
The tom’s brows knitted together as his gaze followed DappleShine’s, his yellow eyes reflecting the coming dusk in worry that he may somehow encounter his old friends.
Internal, he debated whether his eagerness to return to camp was because of the kitten waiting for him there or the threat of staying out here.


The two warriors arrived at a crook in the running river, where it split and lapped at the bank of large flat stones. The rocks reflected the sunlight so brightly that their surfaces felt hot to the touch.

DappleShine slowed to a stop as she spoke, walking into the sunlight of the bank as BarbedMask stood back, remaining on the cusp of the forest’s shadows.

“Now, this is the Riverclan’s border.” The she-cat gestured, walking along the edges of the water, before continuing to explain the Sunningrock's history of conflict.

The tom’s head crooked slightly when the warrior suddenly stopped talking, scanning the shore to try and see what caught her eye.

The brown tabby leaps forward, catching something between her paws before it was able to scurry off between the cracks of stones. Swiftly and effectively killing it. BarbedMask head turned, somewhat impressed as a poor hunter himself. The look quickly changed from intrigued to disgust as the rodent was payed at his paws.


"Here. Eat.”

His neck craned upwards to gain some distance from the she-cat. His yellow eye met her gaze in confusion, his mouth subtly curled and a nearly invisible raise of his brow.

“I’ve noticed you haven't eaten much since you arrived and you'll be no use to the clan half-starved.” DappleShine commented as she walked away and settled herself on the Sunningrocks, the tom a bit peeved out by her observation of him.


“Thanks.” BarbedMask responded shortly, flipping the water vole over with his large paw, scrutinizing it. He parted his mouth a moment to begin to speak, but seeing as DappleShine busted herself with grooming her pelt, he decided against it with a small exhale.

He bent over his prey, haunching in the shade of the forest. Poking at his prey with his claws, digging into the rodent’s chest.

The two warriors rested, with only the sounds of the river and the quiet thuds of BarbedMask’s falling and rising tail. The tom wondered how soon his own kit would eat solid food.

---

“SootPelt, you coming?” LightingStrike snapped, her loin-like tail flickering like the end of a rattlesnake.

“Yes, Sorry.” Responded the black Tom, the golden maned she-cat huffing under her breath in exasperation. WhiteWhisker and FernPaw gave each other a look, the mentor and apprentice taking notice of their deputy’s shortness today before quickly following her out of camp.


The patrol moved into the woods, the grass yellow from the heat and the foliage of clover and ferns sparse. All greenery sticking to the shade provided by the oak’s canopy, exposing the rich brown dirt to the sun’s wrath.

WhiteWhisker stuck out like a sore paw, his white coat highlighting him from the rest of the forest with only his yellowish muzzle matching the summer’s tones. FernPaw was in great contrast to his mentor, the brown apprentice nearly invisible against the foreground with his striped legs blending in with the barks of tree trunks.

All while LightingStrike led the three forward like a beacon, her pace swift commanding and the sunlight bouncing off her golden fur. By the time the deputy spoke, the camp was just out of sight.


“We’ll be securing the south eastern borders by the twoleg place.” LightingStrike looked back at the patrol before continuing.
“With the events of this morning, don’t be surprised if we encounter intruders.” She warned, her bright yellow eyes stern, her reddish mane framed her face.

FernPaw's facial expression changed, his green eyes widening in realization.


When LightingStrike gained some distance from the patrol, a couple of tails away, FernPaw whispered to the two warriors.

“I heard BrackenStar and LightningStrike arguing this morning in the leader’s den. And I think I know why now..”

“You should now better than to eavesdrop..” sighed WhiteWhisker, but motion with his paw for his apprentice to continue.

“She must be pretty upset that BrackenStar let in BarbedMask without consoling her first. That’s probably what got her in a sour mood.”

“Well, like all of us, she’ll have to get used to the new face..” WhiteWhisker commented in a calm manner, shrugging that matter off and trusting his leader’s judgment.

“What if LightingStrike on to something though? Can we trust BarbedMask..” Questioned FernPaw nervously, looking to the two warriors for their advice.