Prison/Chapter One

{|style="width:100%; border:3px #0276FD; background:-webkit-radial-gradient(right, #63C1FF,#82CDFF,#96D5FF,#A6DBFF,#BAE3FF,#D1EDFF,#D1EDFF,#E8F6FF,#FFFFFF);border-radius:27px; align:center; -moz-border-radius:6px; -webkit-border-radius:6px; -moz-box-shadow: 2px 2px 8px white; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 2px 8px white;" "I suppose the beginning is when we were kits. I didn't always love her - as kits, she was the most annoying cat in the den, always asking the silliest questions and bothering everyone every chance she got. She was half a moon younger than I, and her name was Brightkit. Even as a kit she was beautiful, though at two moons old I didn't see it. Her coat was snow white, with splatters of the brightest ginger all over. Her eyes were a blue even brighter than yours, Mossfeather. Stunning. Gorgeous.... As you well know, she-cats in the Clan are not warriors. They are trained only to clean, to learn medicine, and to keep the Clan organized. They will go their entire lives without raising a claw to another cat or carrying prey into the camp. Each she-cat is required to rear at least two litters of kits before they retire as elders. And as you also know, toms are not allowed to fall in love with the she-cats they mate with. Falling in love means having divided loyalties to the Clan.  I knew from the start that Brightkit was different from all the other she-cats. Others knew that their fate was sealed, that they had no chance of ever becoming a warrior - and most of them didn't mind anyways. Didn't want to be a warrior and have to be relied on to supply food, to bear scars from battles fought protecting others. Most were content with being the servants of the Clan.  But even at a young age Brightkit knew she didn't want that. Didn't want to be a maid, didn't want to be forced to rear kits, didn't want to clean dens for the rest of her life. She wanted to be a warrior, and wasn't going to settle with the life that all she-cats were required to live. She wanted the life of a tom.  Some she-kits feel this way. That they want to try something new and start hunting and fighting. They'll express their feeling toward it to their mothers, and their mothers will tell them the dangers of trying to be a rebel and shut their daughters up quickly. But Brightkit's mother died of sickness when she was young - there was no older she-cat there for her to tell about her dreams of hunting in the forest. So only us kits heard about it, and no one was there to tell her to think a different way.  I remember, one day when we were young, maybe three moons. Kits are allowed to leave the camp, you know, but if they don't return no search parties will be wasted trying to find them - a kit who can't learn it's way home fast enough to prevent themselves from getting killed is not wanted in the Clan. And no she-kits are allowed to leave the camp without a tom with them. So one morning, Brightkit was begging me to take her out of the camp, because I'd gone a few times with the others kits and she had never gone before. So I finally broke down and agreed, and off we went.  Naturally we got lost nearly instantly. I had never been the one to lead the journey when I went out of camp, so I had no idea where we were going. But Brightkit never seemed afraid. Afraid at the prospect that we could've died - and we would have. Three moons old and left in the forest with foxes, badgers, neither of us knowing how to hunt or defend ourselves, and Brightkit would never learn. We neared the edge of the territory, and found a scrubby clearing with a sandy floor. Brightkit asked me if she could show me something she had seen the other day from the older warriors, and I said sure, settled myself down to watch.  Brightkit transformed. She was a naturally gawky kit, always tripping over her paws and running into things and losing her balance. But when she started doing those battle moves she had picked up from watching some toms practicing, she was a different cat. Fluid, graceful, using her slender build to her advantage. Her paws slipped through the air and she stared hard ahead with such a look of determination... She showed me a lot of moves. I didn't want her to stop. Rolls, ducks, leaps, blows. It was like watching a bird do tricks in the air. I was jealous of her - jealous of her natural ability to do battle moves like that. I was sure I would never be able to complete a forward roll and slash out with foreclaws with such grace as her. I was too broad even as a kit. I was never cut out for being stealthy and fast; I always, and still do, have to rely on brute strength. <BR><BR> It was nearly sunset when Brightkit tired and asked if we could go home. That's when the panic began to set in, the panic of realizing we were still lost, and I still had no idea how to get us home. <BR><BR> I told Brightkit this, and she just flicked her tail like it was no big deal. I watched her lift her head and sniff at the air a few times and then trotted through the woods, her head held high. Stunned, I could only follow her, and before long she had led us right up to the camp. <BR><BR> "How did you do that?" I had asked her, completely awe-struck. She had plopped into her nest in the nursery and began licking the leaf litter from her orange and white fur. <BR><BR> "Do what?" she asked me, staring at me with those blue eyes from where she licked with a sour expression at a patch of mud. <BR><BR> "Get us home. You'd never even been out of camp-" <BR><BR> "What, follow our scent trail? It's not hard to do. I could teach you." But then she yawned, stretched her legs out, and curled into a ball, tucking her tail over her nose. "But tomorrow. I'm tired." And just like that, she went to sleep. It was the most bizzare thing I had ever seen. <BR><BR> Of course, she had never put those battle moves of hers into action, and she was never supposed to. Ever. But when we were pretty close to our apprentice ceremony, maybe five moons old, we were sitting in camp one afternoon and we heard howling. Both cat's and dog. A few moments later this group of huge dogs just burst into camp, snarling and snapping. Brightkit and I could only stare...<BR><BR> One dog grabbed a young she-cat called Robinsong in it's jaws and bit down. She let out this one single baleful howl...there was a snap and she just went limp. The dog let her go and she hit the ground, her neck completely snapped. She was dead. <BR><BR> The camp snapped into action then. All the she-cats ran for the dens, scooping up kits as they went, and the toms started fighting, clawing and biting and snarling and yowling at the dogs. Brightkit and I were cornered, though. A dog had us backed up against a tree and was growling at us, saliva dripping from it's teeth. <BR><BR> I can't lie. I was terrified. I totally froze, couldn't even lift a claw to try to protect us. But Brightkit had that determined look on her face again as she slashed out at the dog, opening wounds along it's muzzle and neck. The dog screeched and snapped at her, but she ducked away, and it's teeth closed around nothing but air. Her claws flashed over it's eyes and it ducked away, yelping as it ran blindly across the clearing. <BR><BR> What Brightkit had just done was dangerous. Really dangerous. She-cats were not supposed to fight, even in an emergency. She-cats weren't supposed to know how to fight. But Brightkit had just chased off a dog five times her size...<BR><BR> She never brought it up, so I never asked her about it. After the dog was gone we ran to the nearest den and huddled inside until the warriors had chased off the last of the dogs, leaving the camp full of blood and stray fur. <BR><BR> Brightkit never spoke about wanting to be a warrior again, but I knew her dream never swayed. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night and see her sitting up in her nest, looking out through a gap in the nursery wall to the forest beyond, her nose and ears twitching every now and then as if smelling and listening to things, filling in the empty spaces with her mind. Dreaming of sinking her claws into squirrels and enemy's fur. <BR><BR> Of course, we grew up that last moon, and before long it was time for the two of us to receive our apprentice names. I remember the morning well. It was in the dead of greenleaf, and the sky was clear, the day comfortably warm. I felt my mother's tongue rasp over my ear as I searched the gathered cats for Brightkit - she was the only other kit who would receive her name with me today. <BR><BR> I found her without much difficulty - another queen had groomed her till the ginger splatters shone like fire, her coat sleek and thick. Her tail was wrapped over her paws, and she was watching Dewstar with inquisitive eyes. <BR><BR> I don't think I took my eyes off of her once as Dewstar called the summons and we were given our new names and mentors. Maybe that's why I remember seeing nothing except her for the next ten minutes. Her white and ginger fur, her slender build, her eyes that matched the shade of the sky. <BR><BR> And before I knew it, we were Leafpaw and Brightpaw - and my mentor was motioning for me to join him by the camp enterance, while hers beckoned from the place where fresh moss was stored. <BR><BR> And we gave each other one last glance before turning and going in separate directions. Because from that day on our fates were destined to be separate."

★ ★  ★

Leafshadow paused and sighed, shaking his head. Mossfeather had stayed carefully quiet through his story, but now she nearly exploded with questions. <BR><BR> "Did Brightpaw become a warrior? Did she prove them wrong? Did any cat find out about her fighting the dog? Or how she led you two home after you got lost?" Leafshadow groaned and held up his tail for silence, and Mossfeather lapsed into quiet, but her ears still twitched. <BR><BR> "My story is nowhere near over, Mossfeather. I'm sure all your questions will be answered in the course, you just have to stay silent long enough to hear it all." He stared at his paws, reliving the moments he had just recounted in his head, and felt his insides turn to stone at the pleasant memories. <BR><BR> "So what's the next part to the story?" Mossfeather encouraged eagerly. She had given up lying in a comfortable crouch and now sat in front of him, her paws working excitedly against the wooden floor of the nest. Leafshadow found himself laughing quietly at her enthusiasm and flicked his tail. <BR><BR> "Well, the next part is my apprenticeship."