What if Mapleshade's kits lived

Chapter 14

"Get out!", Prickleleaf growled angrily, shoving Mapleshade roughly over the scent marks. She was forced to drive her claws into the damp earth to stop herself toppling like a tree, her lungs devoid of breath. Slowly, she turned back to stare blankly at the viscous Shadowclan warriors, slightly surprised they hadn't torn her apart by now. Lashing his tail, Prickleleaf bared his fangs, "Don't let us see you on our territory again. If we do, you know the consequences.". If he had said that to her just a day ago, she would snarl at him like a badger and probably raked his ears off.

However, no growl was forming in her throat, her throat too raw to do it. Even if she had the strength to do it, she wouldn't bother, she was too numb to feel offended by anything. An odd stillness was shared between the cats. With that, Prickleleaf rounded up his warriors with a sweep of the tail, marching them away. After a few stern glances back, the patrol had disappeared into the thick shadow fog of the pine forest, leaving Mapleshade alone. She stared at the floor, unmoving, time dragging on.

Finally, she managed to gather enough motivation to start forcing her legs to lift in the air, pressing them back down against the earth, eventually forming into a slow trot, wadding like a duck. She walked and walked, the world around her frozen in grey ice, the pale sun surrendering to the thick sheet of clouds. Despite her wounds being tended to, it still felt as if a fire burning from inside her gut, acidic venom burrowing into her muscles and burning from inside her chest. It seemed Sloefur had only done the bare minimum, not even giving her a painkiller, crazing poppy seeds. The lazy snakeheart. Eventually, the last of her strength was consumed, forcing her movements to speed of a snail. She needed food.

Her jaw slipping open, she tasted the bitter Leaf-bare wind, desperate to pick the scent of something, anything. She groaned as she was forced to taste the scent of Thunderpath again, draining to return to it so soon. Pricking her ears, she heard the distant rumble of Monsters. Fear gripping her, knowing Bloomheart could be still prowling around there, eager for revenge after his mate's death. Yet, Mapleshade took a step forward. Among the scent of humid gravel and burning, lay another vile scent. Mapleshade couldn't believe herself at that moment, but hunger drove her on. Somehow despite all the pain, her body launched into a script, her muscles screaming at her.

Slipping into some thick layer of undergrowth, she tore her way through, despite stems and roots tangling around her. Eventually, she burst from the endless green cover, to be standing on a steep hillside, overlooking a narrow Thunderpath, smaller than the one she'd fought for her life besides, just earlier that day. Dusk was now setting over the land, turning the sky pale like giant claws had slashed through it, now bleeding with pink clouds. Searching the landscape, she finally spotted what she was looking for, what her body had dragged her to. There, laying among overgrown shrubs, lay the large body of a dead deer. No massive brown branch-like horns struck out of its head, telling her it was a doe. its body was torn open and tangled. It's large round black eyes still widen in shock, despite death gripping it. Another victim of the Thunderclan, just like Frecklewish and Dawnfeather. However, Mapleshade's heart insanity sank when she realized two creatures with fire red pelt surrounded the corpse, with bushy spiky fur, a white underbelly, and distinctive black tail tip. They were no cats.

In her haste, she'd failed to notice the overwhelming scent of a fox, in her rush to get to the dead doe. They were greedily gorging themselves on their prize, tearing it apart with canine teeth, their head covered in dried crusted blood. Before she could retreat back into the bushes, one of them raised their large heads from its meal, to look directly at the tortoiseshell. Mapleshade froze, spine arching. The male fox made a few yapping noising to its mate, with both of them now facing their natural enemy. Nobody moved for a long time as if they were nothing but trees, permanently rooted to the floor. Luckily, the female fox suddenly shook it's pelt down, boredom gripping it, returning to its feast. The male soon followed suit. Immediately, Mapleshade lunged into the shelter of the nearby bramble, burying herself deep within them. Her heartbeat roared in her chest, legs aching. Needing to remember she was still injured. Settling down on the uncomfortable nest, a spikey pile of pine needles and acorns, she waited.