Where Eagles Fly

This is set around the time of Dawn of the Clans, but with different characters.

Prologue
Eyrie stretched his back legs, which were sore from the border skirmish. He blinked slowly, secretly hoping that Honey Whisker would come to visit him. He missed the pretty tabby, and the days seemed longer without her.

“Are you okay?” Instead, he heard the voice of Falling Petal. Eyrie’s ears twitched. Wasn’t Falling Petal the healer for Thick Mist’s group?

Eyrie nodded.

“Out of all the cats in that battle,” she mused. “You were the most injured.”

“Where’s Tabby Pelt?” Eyrie asked rather sharply. “He’s supposed to be taking care of me.”

“You were too weak to make the journey back to First Frost’s territory,” Falling Petal explained gently. “Here, drink this.” She placed a large, curved leaf in front of him. There was a shallow pool of water at the bottom, but Eyrie nudged it away.

“I don’t need that,” he growled.

“Yes you do.” Falling Petal’s voice was firm, and Eyrie obeyed, lapping at the shallow water. As soon as she looked away, he lifted his head, shaking droplets from this long whiskers.

“You’ll travel back to First Frost’s camp in a few days.”

“A few days? I don’t have that long.” A pit of dread gaped in Eyrie’s stomach.

“Too bad,” Falling Petal hissed, shoving the water towards him.

Maybe this was a mistake, Eyrie pondered. Maybe I never should’ve joined up with these cats in the first place.

Then he recalled Honey Whisker, and her golden tabby pelt, warm brown eyes, and her sweet, gentle personality.

I won’t leave her that quickly.

But was this the life for him?

I miss being a rogue.

But I have to do this.

For her.

Chapter One
''Three years later. . .''

The forest was silent as Nettle sank her claws into the bark and hauled herself onto the branch. Below her, the forest was a foreign place cloaked by a mysterious shadow. It was nothing like the place she called home.

Maybe this really isn’t my home, she thought, swiping a paw over her ear. Maybe my home is somewhere else. She glanced up at the stars. They looked cold and distant, and even the moon’s light was muted by the clouds.

Nettle opened her mouth and closed it again. Did she really belong in a place like this, where enemies appeared around every turn and fear haunted her dreams? Or was this place better than she thought it was?

There’s bound to be a place for me. Balancing steadily on the branch, Nettle sat down, curling her tail neatly around her front paws.

“Nettle!”

Nettle jerked away, blinking sleepily. Who was calling her name? Shifting restlessly, she sighed and managed to haul herself to her paws. The familiar sound of the river echoed in her ears, and her muscles tensed as she saw Skipper and Ringo playing dangerously close to the bank. Their mother, Caramel, lounged nearby, sprawled out on a large, flat rock.

They’re going to fall in! Nettle prepared to fling herself down the pile of rocks, but she was stopped by Pebble. The silver tom has a grim expression on his face.

“What?” Nettle’s tail lashed impatiently. “Are you going to tell me that there were more fox scents nearby?”

“No,” Pebble replied sharply. “I was going to—”

“Skipper!” Nettle yowled, barging past Pebble and charging towards the river. The little kit was flailing in the strong current, calling for his mother. Caramel was pacing along the bank, though she didn’t look very anxious. With a yowl, Nettle leaped into the freezing river, paddling desperately towards Skipper.

“Swim to me!” she urged him, coughing up the water that was flowing into her mouth.

“I can’t!” Skipper’s reply was nearly lost over the roar of the waterfall nearby.

“Yes you can! I believe in you!” Nettle’s voice grew louder as she became more and more panicked. Soon, the current would sweep him right over the waterfall—and there was no doubt that he would survive.

Skipper was trying as hard as he could, but he was too young, and the current was too strong. Cursing, Nettle pumped her legs harder, getting close enough to grab his scruff securely in her teeth. Blinking water from her eyes, she paddles steadily towards the bank. Her paws felt like rocks, and her body screamed with exhaustion.

I have to do this, she thought determinedly. For Skipper.

“Nettle!” Nettle glanced up. Pebble was pounding along the bank, trying to keep up with her.

“What?” she screeched through Skipper’s scruff fur.

“The waterfall’s approaching fast!”

With a grunt, Nettle heaved herself towards the bank. As soon as her claws brushed the rocky bottom, she sank them into the cracks and hauled herself out of the freezing water. She collapsed on the bank, retching water. Pebble dashed over to Skipper, massaging the tiny kit with his big paws.

“You’re very lucky.” Nettle tensed, holding her breath as Caramel approached. Ringo was trotting close behind her, shivering with obvious fear.

“I’m sorry,” Nettle rasped, licking her shoulder. “I-I just—” She broke off, too exhausted to reply. She just rested her head on the pebbly bank, gulping for air.

''Caramel’s right. I am lucky. So is Skipper''. With a giant effort, she turned her gaze to the kit, who was being picked up by Pebble. Nettle closed her eyes, silently cursing herself.

“I failed,” she mumbled.

“No you didn’t. You saved that kit’s life.” Nettle nearly jumped out of her paws. A slim, unfamiliar tom was facing her. His dark grey fur was slightly lighter than hers, and his yellow eyes were nearly the exact same color and shape as hers.

“Who are you?” she hissed, her fur raising.

“I’m Eyrie.”

“Who?” What kind of cat has a name like that?

“Your father.” He dipped his graceful head, and suddenly she understood.

“Flower told me stories about you,” Nettle purred. “She told me how brave and courageous you were while you were alive.”

Eyrie grunted happily. “Tell her that I miss her. And tell her that she was the best sister ever.”

Nettle nodded. “Will do.”

“Nettle, I have an important message for you.”

Nettle’s ears flattened. “Is it something to do with the Clans? You know that I have no business with them.” She unsheathed her claws.

Eyrie sighed. “I’m sorry, Nettle, but I promised Honey Whisker that I would deliver this message to you. You need to visit the Clans in order to—”

“I don’t need to visit the Clans just because of your stupid mistake!” Nettle snapped, furious.

“It’s more than that!” Eyrie’s gaze sharpened. “They’re in danger. All the cats of the forest are in danger.”

“Well that’s good,” Nettle growled. “Because I’m leaving. I hate the forest.”

“Please.” Eyrie’s tone was desperate. “You don’t understand what this means to me. To us.”

“Fine, then,” Nettle huffed. “Flower said that you were brave and powerful. If she’s right, then why don’t you just go down there and do it yourself?”

“This will only work with a living cat.” Eyrie shifted his paws impatiently.

“Then ask your other living kits.”

“They all died, Nettle. Don’t you remember? Fauna got killed by a monster, and for Spire and Snake, it was disease.”

Nettle closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Do I have time to think about it?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Nettle snarled. “You’re so demanding!”

“I’m doing what’s best.”

“You always think you’re doing what’s best, but you’re not!” Nettle stalked off before he could reply. Why did he have to force her to become part of the pointless Clan business?

“Nettle!” At first she thought it was her father calling her, but Pebble slipped out of the ferns.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I was just checking on you,” he replied. “Caramel wants to know if you’re okay. I mean, it’s not like she cares.”

The truth stung Nettle. It appeared as if the she-cat didn’t care about anyone but herself. If she was careless enough to let her kits play in the riverbank, then they obviously weren’t safe with her.

I need to do something about that. Nettle lashed her tail, and she stood glaring until Pebble’s tail brushed her flank.

“Come on.” He nodded towards their makeshift camp, and Nettle trotted after him. Caramel wasn’t lounging anymore, but she was eating a large plump rabbit.

Nettle jerked her muzzle towards the rabbit. “I’m guessing that you caught that,” she whispered to Pebble. He nodded in reply, and anguished look upon his face.

“She would’ve clawed my eyes out if I hadn’t given her the biggest piece.”

“Some excuse.” With a grunt, Nettle pulled ahead, slipping into the small hollow and curling up with her tail over her paws.

The hollow was an old tree that was missing a large piece of the trunk. It had been struck by lightning during a thunderstorm, so it had a twisted, grasping tangle of branches near the top.

“You have to believe me.” Pebble sank his claws into the bark and climbed onto one of the thicker, low-hanging branches.

Nettle sighed and turned away from him. “I’ve had a bad day, so just leave me alone, will you?” Her ears twitched angrily, and she flexed her claws.

Will anyone ever understand me?