Post by Shadowstalker on Nov 10, 2011 22:35:02 GMT -5
IF YOU HAVE MIRCOSOFT WORD, READ THE CHAPTER LIKE A BOOK USING THE ATTACHMENT!
For those of you who wish not to use/do not have microsoft word, you can read it normally.
Chapter 2#
Exhausted from the battle, the seven cats made their way back to camp. Goldenstream was limping, Darkheart had his cut under his chin, and a tom called Stormpath was bleeding from a large wound on his shoulder. Falling into a familiar path, they plowed wearily forward until they reached a alder sapling, which had been caught mid-fall by the branches of an oak and beech tree. Darkheart scrambled up the old tree, gripping the bark, until he arrived at the end.
The camp was like no other. A long time ago, cats had laid branches from the forest floor onto the living ones of three trees. This they had covered with dead ferns, to create a platform seemingly impossible for any cat to do. Six trees' branches made up the platform. A oak, a beech, a birch, a poplar, a pecan, and the tallest elm tree in the forest, which stood in the center. On the front, it had a ledge, with just enough room for a single cat. Darkheart walked pass it and headed to the Beech tree.
A fork in the tree, where four heavy branches split from the trunk, was level with the main camp platform. A wall-like structure of piles up leafy branches was made here.
Darkheart approached it, “Goldenleaf!”
A sleek golden-brown she-cat emerged from a leafy den. “Your back! How was the battle?” she mewed, already disappearing into her den.
“We won. Not as many as we expected, only four cats.”
Goldenleaf emerged from the den, a bundle of herbs in her jaws. “Any deaths?” she muffled through them.
Darkheart shrugged as she began rubbing herbs into his scratches. “Only two. Hawkstar and another Brambleclan cat.” He felt her flinch as he said this.
“Only?” she mumbled, “This has got to stop.” She rubbed some ointment of his cut under his chin. “There, you’re done. Who’s next?’
Darkheart left her to Stormpath and headed towards the Oak tree. Clawing his way up the trunk, he hauled himself over the edge onto a tiny platform. Another den, like the medicine cat’s, was built here, only larger. He squeezed in found his nest, and curled up to sleep.
* * *
“Darkheart, wake up! Riversong and Blackleaf are waiting for you for dawn patrol. Wake up, you hedgehog!”
Darkheart opened his eyes to see himself in the warrior’s den. A small, dark ginger-furred tom stood over him. “Alright, alright, keep your whiskers on!” he grumbled. Darkheart heaved himself out of the warrior’s den.
He blinked twice as the cold nipped his nose. Despite the freezing temperature and frost, it was sunny. Darkheart scrambled down the trunk to join two cats who stood waiting for him at the alder sapling. One was a pretty silver she-cat. The other was a black tom with a white muzzle and green eyes. The tom gave a mrrow of laughter.
“About time, Darkheart! I thought Redstorm had gotten lost to the warrior’s den, he was taking so long!”
The she-cat fluffed out her fur against the cold. “Quit teasing, Blackleaf,” she mewed, “We better get going, or our paws’ll freeze to the ground.”
Blackleaf huffed as if offended. “Fine then. You lead, Riversong.”
The she-cat turned and led the way down into the forest. It was foggy, but the three cats were well-accustomed to the weather in their territory. They plowed onward until they reached an elm tree. It towered over them, even taller than the one at camp. “I can’t believe Mosswood once climbed even half-way!” Riversong murmured, head back as she looked up at the forest giant. Blackleaf gave her ear a flick with his tail.
Suddenly, Darkheart heard the sound of leaves rustling. Silently and swiftly, he moved toward the noise. It was a chickadee, who was trying vainly to pull a half-buried seed out of the frozen ground. Instantly, Darkheart dropped into an automatic crouch. His paw sliding over the forest floor, he moved toward the bird. Gathering his feet under him, he jumped and pounced.
Turning back with his catch, he went back to join the two cats. Darkheart began to bury it. “It’s hardly a mouthful, but anything will do. Leafbare’s not far away.”
The continued onward until they saw towering cliffs in the distance. Riversong led the way to a hidden path that led up the cliffs. As they were half-way up the steep rock sides, Darkheart remembered when he was an apprentice. When his mentor, Shadeforest, had first showed him up the trail, he had been terrified. It was so high up! Even now, looking over the side of the rocky path, it made him dizzy.
They reached the top, where a short stretch of grass led to a pine grove. They entered it, stopping only once to let Blackleaf stalk a mouse. “Hardly a meal for a warrior,” he muttered as he buried it beside a fir tree.
In the distance Darkheart heard the sounds of roaring. As the got closer, it filled his ears until he could barely concentrate on putting one paw in front of the other.
They reached a river. Or was it a very long lake? It stretched across their path, huge and mighty, with boiling, foamy rapids. In the far distance, Darkheart could see the other bank. Then Blackleaf brought him back. “We’ll need to cross.”
This was Darkheart’s least favorite part of patrolling. The only way to cross was by the stepping stones, which were slippery and slimy, and sometimes after rain, a paws-length below the water. They crossed without a hitch, but Darkheart was not looking forward to going back again.
When they reached the other side, the crossed through the pines until they reached the border. While Blackleaf marked it, Riversong went hunting. Darkheart noticed a squirrel not far away. Lucky me! he thought, and moved into a crouch. But as he got nearer, the wind changed. Smelling him, the squirrel dashed to a tree before Darkheart could cut it off.
“Starclan’s kits!” Darkheart cursed, while Blackleaf muttered, “Bad luck.”
Riversong came back with a titmouse in her jaws while Darkheart continued to pout and curse. Putting down her catch, she said to him, “Enough, Darkheart. Don’t act like a apprentice.” Darkheart went into a sulk. She turned to Blackleaf, “What happened?”
“He was hunting a squirrel when the wind changed on him. Bad luck.”
“Too bad.” Riversong agreed, “We could’ve used that squirrel.”
After marking the border, the were beginning to head back to camp when Blackleaf waved his tail is a signal to halt. He sniffed the air. “Coyote.” He growled. Darkheart lifted his nose. The stench hit him like a solid, reeking wall.
“We need to check this out.” Riversong mewed, and began heading toward it. Thoroughly repulsed by the smell, Darkheart padded on at the rear.
Riversong caught up with Blackleaf. “Blackleaf, we can’t take on a coyote by ourselves! We’re two few.”
Blackleaf’s fur brushed a pine. “I know that, Riversong. We should at least make sure it isn’t in our territory, though.”
The scent led them deeper into the territory. The scent getting stronger, it took all his willpower for Darkheart not to gag. They reached what looked like a hill cut in half, with a solid stone wall. In the wall was a cave. “I’m going to check it out.” Blackleaf mewed.
Riversong looked shocked, and stood to block his way. . “You can’t be serious! Blacklea-“
“I’m going in.” he repeated, “Stand down Riversong. I’m senior to you.”
Riversong hesitated, then moved out of his way. Blackleaf entered the cave. The stench flowed from the cave until Darkheart thought he might bring up last night’s meal. Blackleaf took a deep breath, and looked back at Riversong. She nodded. Then, slowly, paw by paw, Blackleaf entered the cave his dark body soon melting into the blackness of the Coyote den.
For those of you who wish not to use/do not have microsoft word, you can read it normally.
Chapter 2#
Exhausted from the battle, the seven cats made their way back to camp. Goldenstream was limping, Darkheart had his cut under his chin, and a tom called Stormpath was bleeding from a large wound on his shoulder. Falling into a familiar path, they plowed wearily forward until they reached a alder sapling, which had been caught mid-fall by the branches of an oak and beech tree. Darkheart scrambled up the old tree, gripping the bark, until he arrived at the end.
The camp was like no other. A long time ago, cats had laid branches from the forest floor onto the living ones of three trees. This they had covered with dead ferns, to create a platform seemingly impossible for any cat to do. Six trees' branches made up the platform. A oak, a beech, a birch, a poplar, a pecan, and the tallest elm tree in the forest, which stood in the center. On the front, it had a ledge, with just enough room for a single cat. Darkheart walked pass it and headed to the Beech tree.
A fork in the tree, where four heavy branches split from the trunk, was level with the main camp platform. A wall-like structure of piles up leafy branches was made here.
Darkheart approached it, “Goldenleaf!”
A sleek golden-brown she-cat emerged from a leafy den. “Your back! How was the battle?” she mewed, already disappearing into her den.
“We won. Not as many as we expected, only four cats.”
Goldenleaf emerged from the den, a bundle of herbs in her jaws. “Any deaths?” she muffled through them.
Darkheart shrugged as she began rubbing herbs into his scratches. “Only two. Hawkstar and another Brambleclan cat.” He felt her flinch as he said this.
“Only?” she mumbled, “This has got to stop.” She rubbed some ointment of his cut under his chin. “There, you’re done. Who’s next?’
Darkheart left her to Stormpath and headed towards the Oak tree. Clawing his way up the trunk, he hauled himself over the edge onto a tiny platform. Another den, like the medicine cat’s, was built here, only larger. He squeezed in found his nest, and curled up to sleep.
* * *
“Darkheart, wake up! Riversong and Blackleaf are waiting for you for dawn patrol. Wake up, you hedgehog!”
Darkheart opened his eyes to see himself in the warrior’s den. A small, dark ginger-furred tom stood over him. “Alright, alright, keep your whiskers on!” he grumbled. Darkheart heaved himself out of the warrior’s den.
He blinked twice as the cold nipped his nose. Despite the freezing temperature and frost, it was sunny. Darkheart scrambled down the trunk to join two cats who stood waiting for him at the alder sapling. One was a pretty silver she-cat. The other was a black tom with a white muzzle and green eyes. The tom gave a mrrow of laughter.
“About time, Darkheart! I thought Redstorm had gotten lost to the warrior’s den, he was taking so long!”
The she-cat fluffed out her fur against the cold. “Quit teasing, Blackleaf,” she mewed, “We better get going, or our paws’ll freeze to the ground.”
Blackleaf huffed as if offended. “Fine then. You lead, Riversong.”
The she-cat turned and led the way down into the forest. It was foggy, but the three cats were well-accustomed to the weather in their territory. They plowed onward until they reached an elm tree. It towered over them, even taller than the one at camp. “I can’t believe Mosswood once climbed even half-way!” Riversong murmured, head back as she looked up at the forest giant. Blackleaf gave her ear a flick with his tail.
Suddenly, Darkheart heard the sound of leaves rustling. Silently and swiftly, he moved toward the noise. It was a chickadee, who was trying vainly to pull a half-buried seed out of the frozen ground. Instantly, Darkheart dropped into an automatic crouch. His paw sliding over the forest floor, he moved toward the bird. Gathering his feet under him, he jumped and pounced.
Turning back with his catch, he went back to join the two cats. Darkheart began to bury it. “It’s hardly a mouthful, but anything will do. Leafbare’s not far away.”
The continued onward until they saw towering cliffs in the distance. Riversong led the way to a hidden path that led up the cliffs. As they were half-way up the steep rock sides, Darkheart remembered when he was an apprentice. When his mentor, Shadeforest, had first showed him up the trail, he had been terrified. It was so high up! Even now, looking over the side of the rocky path, it made him dizzy.
They reached the top, where a short stretch of grass led to a pine grove. They entered it, stopping only once to let Blackleaf stalk a mouse. “Hardly a meal for a warrior,” he muttered as he buried it beside a fir tree.
In the distance Darkheart heard the sounds of roaring. As the got closer, it filled his ears until he could barely concentrate on putting one paw in front of the other.
They reached a river. Or was it a very long lake? It stretched across their path, huge and mighty, with boiling, foamy rapids. In the far distance, Darkheart could see the other bank. Then Blackleaf brought him back. “We’ll need to cross.”
This was Darkheart’s least favorite part of patrolling. The only way to cross was by the stepping stones, which were slippery and slimy, and sometimes after rain, a paws-length below the water. They crossed without a hitch, but Darkheart was not looking forward to going back again.
When they reached the other side, the crossed through the pines until they reached the border. While Blackleaf marked it, Riversong went hunting. Darkheart noticed a squirrel not far away. Lucky me! he thought, and moved into a crouch. But as he got nearer, the wind changed. Smelling him, the squirrel dashed to a tree before Darkheart could cut it off.
“Starclan’s kits!” Darkheart cursed, while Blackleaf muttered, “Bad luck.”
Riversong came back with a titmouse in her jaws while Darkheart continued to pout and curse. Putting down her catch, she said to him, “Enough, Darkheart. Don’t act like a apprentice.” Darkheart went into a sulk. She turned to Blackleaf, “What happened?”
“He was hunting a squirrel when the wind changed on him. Bad luck.”
“Too bad.” Riversong agreed, “We could’ve used that squirrel.”
After marking the border, the were beginning to head back to camp when Blackleaf waved his tail is a signal to halt. He sniffed the air. “Coyote.” He growled. Darkheart lifted his nose. The stench hit him like a solid, reeking wall.
“We need to check this out.” Riversong mewed, and began heading toward it. Thoroughly repulsed by the smell, Darkheart padded on at the rear.
Riversong caught up with Blackleaf. “Blackleaf, we can’t take on a coyote by ourselves! We’re two few.”
Blackleaf’s fur brushed a pine. “I know that, Riversong. We should at least make sure it isn’t in our territory, though.”
The scent led them deeper into the territory. The scent getting stronger, it took all his willpower for Darkheart not to gag. They reached what looked like a hill cut in half, with a solid stone wall. In the wall was a cave. “I’m going to check it out.” Blackleaf mewed.
Riversong looked shocked, and stood to block his way. . “You can’t be serious! Blacklea-“
“I’m going in.” he repeated, “Stand down Riversong. I’m senior to you.”
Riversong hesitated, then moved out of his way. Blackleaf entered the cave. The stench flowed from the cave until Darkheart thought he might bring up last night’s meal. Blackleaf took a deep breath, and looked back at Riversong. She nodded. Then, slowly, paw by paw, Blackleaf entered the cave his dark body soon melting into the blackness of the Coyote den.
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