Loners, Kits, and Deputies

"Oh dear." The fiery tom's eyes widened. "We'd better tell someone."

"Foxpool?" The light gray she-cat, Dawnsky, looked at him. Then she saw it. She drew in a gasp.

There was a tawny fox, lying on the ground with a pool of blood around it. It had been killed by- a badger, maybe.

"Come on, let's get back to camp." Foxpool sighed. "At least we know this creature won't bother us."

"Wait! What if it's the second sign?" DayClan had not received anything from StarClan since the hibiscus was found three sunhighs ago.

"No." As they got closer to the camp, they heard a loud coughing noise coming from the medicine den. The two warriors glanced at each other.

"Hey!" Dawnsky blinked. Her brother Dustflight was bounding toward them, faster than a rabbit running from a wolf. "Don't come any closer! Clovershine's caught greencough."

"Oh, that's terrible!" Dawnsky's eyes clouded. "But I need to talk to Firestar. Foxpool and I found something."

Dustflight, Foxpool, and Dustflight padded over to the leader's den, careful to stay away from the medicine den.

"Firestar? We found a dead fox. It was near the Hunting Clearing, an it was surrounded by a pool of blood. We think it was killed by a badger." Foxpool took a deep breath.

"Oh StarClan," Firestar breathed, mostly talking to himself. "Your kits.... what shall we do?" He gulped. "Foxpool, I'm afraid..... you have been chosen."

"What? But I.... the kits.... Reedfur.... let me tell her!" He rushed into the nursery. As if in response, she smiled, then gasped in obvious pain.

"The kits! They're coming!"

-

Curlfoot limped along to the fresh-kill pile, the usual scowl on his face. He snagged a small bird after checking that the elders and kits had been fed. (He may have been grumpy, but that didn't mean he wasn't a good Clanmate.)

"Were you here yesterday when the Choosing began?" A gentle voice startled him. Moonfeather looked up at Curlfoot, eyes boring into him. "When Leopardpatch was picked?"

"Yeah..... I was..... here." He had been out hunting. He turned away from the speckled tom and proceeded to eat his bird. Then a noise startled him.

"We want to see Ashstar!" A burly ginger tabby swaggered into the camp, her eyes wide and menacing. Some of NightClan's warriors were behind her, as if they were bodyguards and she was royalty.

"We?" Some cat called out. As if on cue, about 12 more cats came out of the forest.

"We want a fight. We want your puny forest territory for ourselves and we want to see if you can defend it like the 'bone eating' cats you're supposed to be." The tabby leaped up, and hurled herself on top of an unsuspecting cat.

The fight began. Those loners against NightClan. Fights breaking out in every corner, in every den. Cats were working together, and fighting alone. It was pandemonium.

Finally, the fighting stopped. Every cat had been scarred or hurt. The ginger cat walked up to the Clan.

"You've fought well for mangy forest cats," she snarled, flecks of spit flying off her tongue. "We'll leave you alone for now, but don't forget. We'll be back." She and her gang stalked off, growling.

Cats then began to pick themselves up, helping one another, dusting off. Everything had been wrecked. The fresh-kill pile, trampled. Every single piece of prey there- their feet- were curled.

"Hey wait a moment! Look at this! Curled feet! Curl foot!" It was a moment of happiness after all of this devastation. The second cat had been Chosen.