Phoenix
by Foxstep
Part of the Bright series.
~
Sometimes life takes a turn. It messes around a cat's heart but will never stop until they find where they truly belong. It can be wise cats that experience this or one moon kits. But sometimes it can be of age that is smack in the middle.
All cats are brave. There is no such thing as "foolish". Whomever is willing to live the trials of life is brave. There is no such thing as evil. All cats are born good. They change.
Some are dark.
Some are bright.
But some are in between.
And some are waiting to fall in love.
~
Part One[]
Chapter One[]
Fire.
I stare into the deep depths of it, noticing how it had layers of vermillion red with a touch of nacarat. Wait! How didn't I notice the blue smoke outlining it? Like fire and ice. I lean closer.
"Phoenix!"
I turn around quickly, a white she cat staring at me with a gaze both disapproving and amused. "Fire is meant to light our paths when it is dark, not to be stared at."
I roll my eyes. "Yes, Ivory." In Ivory's eyes, everyone must do everything as it's purpose is for. "Anyways, let's get back to camp."
"Really?" My friend tips her head. "Don't you think we ought to do something?"
"Like what?"
"Like catch some prey or something..." The white she cat trails off.
"Oh, come on! It's Newleaf, we don't have to scrounge around the undergrowth, trying to pry out a meager mouse," I laugh. "Plus, we have enough berries growing here and there."
"But we're apprentices," Ivory claws the ground.
"And that is what we're supposed to do." I finish for her. "I wish you would let these things go, Ivory! I mean, no one is perfect, it's impossible to always do what's right."
Ivory is silent as we pad back to our camp. I can't help but glance at the fire lights lined around us. We're not used to the pitch black of the nighttime, we're DayClan after all. We depend on the sun to provide our light in day and put out, like, hundreds of fire lamps out to make it like the day again at night. But it's not the same.
Whereas NightClan enjoys the darkness. They roam in the night and, in the daytime, when the light is heavenly bright, they can't see it. Because they wrap their camps in branches that shield the light. Kits are born in darkness, never to see the light in moons - and when they do, it's bare flicks of energy.
DayClan is obviously better than NightClan.
We enter the Redwood camp, walking silently into the gorse bush entrance. We have three Classes, Gale, Redwood, and Rose, poorest to richest. Ivory and I are in Middle Class so our families are loyal warriors but with a little outstanding act from one of us, sends the whole family to the Rose Camp. Or if we do exceptionally poor hunting or act cowardly or betray your Clan, you go down to Gale. Actually, we don't have a prison. We just send traitors and enemies down to Gale - suits them perfectly. You can tell who lives in which; the starving skinny cats are obviously Gale, fair-sized cats in Redwood, and particularly stunning (or fat) cats in Rose. Everybody wishes for Rose every single second.
I see Ivory's father storming over to us, dark brown tail lashing, green eyes furious. "Where were you two?!" He hisses. "You were called to patrol the south border with NightClan! Your patrol has left without you."
Oh. I share a glance with Ivory.
"Tell me you were at least doing something productive. Caught any prey?"
Uh oh. This time, I avoid Ivory's eyes - in case I get scorched by the intensity of her supposed glare.
"Of course not. Youngsters," Hackney muttered. "Well? Run now or miss the whole patrol!"
"All right!" I yelp and run south with Ivory. She meows coldly, "Next time, I'll choose to believe that doing what is expected is only what I'll do."
I shrug, knowing that she's right, as we run down the steep slope to meet our patrol.
"Are you sure you smell a pheasant?"
I sigh. "Yes Ginkgo, I happen to have a nice-working nose."
"Sorry," The tabby tom looks down at his paws.