The Story of Fuzzypelt : From Kittypet to Warrior Cat

The Past

Birds were chirping merrily in the trees. Grumble and Bumble were arguing next door. Fuzzy opened one eye. It was far past sunrise. She yawned, and stretched. She was two moons old today. Just another horrible day trapped in a two-leg den. She wished she could race outside and into the nearby woods that Spot always talked about. Spot was the oldest cat in the neighborhood, the son of Smudge. He told countless stories about the trees, tall and scarred with the claws of many wild cats. Yesterday, Grumble had commented on her wild background story. Rumors, but not answers. Some said she was a born kitty. Others said she was a wildcat, born in the woods. But no one knew. Nobody knew her mother and father...

"Stop dreaming and get up and I will tell you a story." a voice mewed in her ear.

She jumped up and looked at the cat who had so suddenly awakened her.

"Spot, can it wait?"

"Weeel, this is a story about you! Don't you want to hear it?"

"Sure!" Fuzzypelt mewed, going with it.

"Well, a long time ago, there was a brave cat named Rusty. He joined the warriors of the woods and became Firepaw, Fireheart, and then Firestar. It's been many years since he joined Star Clan now, and his decendants still live in the forest. Most of them."

"What has this got to do with me?" Fuzzy asked.

Shooting a disapproving look at Fuzzy, Spot meowed, "If you don't interrupt you'll find out. I don't know how many generations it's been, but two moons ago from today, a kitten was born. It was the beautiful offspring of Sharpclaw and Beestripe, two full bred warriors from River Clan, and by choice descendants of Firestar."

Fuzzy considered this. That kitten must be amazing... Wait, this story was about her!

"Fuzzy? Are you listening?" Spot mewed.

"Um, yes." Fuzzy stuttered.

​ "Ok. One day, Sharpclaw was on a patrol, and Beestripe was sleeping in the nusery. Their kit wandered out of the camp. They desperately followed its scent, but the scent was washed away in a storm. Heartbroken, they have been searching for their lost kit ever since. And that kitten was named Fuzzykit."

Fuzzy's eyes popped out at the name. She turned to look at Spot.

"I am a warrior's kitten?"

"Yes. Go into the forest. They are waiting for you, as they have been for many years!" Spot mewed quietly.

Fuzzy tripped over her own paws while racing to her own yard, with no thought of a morning twoleg snack. She was free. The twolegs were calling her, but she didn't run to them and rub their legs. She jumped clean over the fence and kept running. A new speed, coming from a spirit of wildness, welled up as the trees grew near. She was running home.