Warriors Contest Fics

Guide | WattyClans Writing Contest Round Three

Hi guys! Here's the contest fic for the @WattyClans contest. #WattyClansWriteComp1
I want to give a special shoutout to my friend and current writing partner, Sparrowheart838 who I wrote this story with. We collaborated greatly, and the story wouldn't have been as fantastic as it is without her! Go check out her version of the story on her profile.

~Blaze

Round 1-A: Write a creative short story about a cat finding an injured Twoleg kit and how they manage the situation.

Min: 600 words

Guide

The air was brisk, a light wind blowing gently through the trees. The leaves rustled and shook under its attention, some beginning to change color while others still were falling prematurely. The forest was calm and quiet, mice nibbling gently on seeds, birds chirping softly to their families, the odd squirrel shooting up and down tree trunks.

One mouse sat on its lonesome, ears pricked for danger. After a few seconds, it ducked down and foraged with a silent desperation, pawing at the ground until it triumphantly stood with a small seed in its mouth. It sat on its haunches to enjoy its meal, yet just as it was about to take a bite, it froze, smelling the air. In the next second it was gone, seed abandoned next to the overgrown root.

A snarl sounded from a nearby bush. Moments later, a white tom pushed through the brambles, eyes narrowed and tail lashing. Behind him a ticked brown tabby she-cat meandered to stand beside him, paws scuffing the earth and an apology on her face.

"I'm sorry, Whitefur. I don't know what's gotten into me today." She spoke to the older tom. He eyed her with thinly veiled disdain.

"Spottedfern, this is the fourth time today that you lost prey! At this rate, the Clan will go hungry tonight," he chastised. "You need to focus, and for StarClan's sake stop acting so jittery!"

The tabby she-cat's ears flattened, and she seemed to sink into herself. The tom closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. When he next spoke, his voice was softer, calmer. "How about we split up. I'll head towards the FeatherClan border. You can head to The Grove. Perhaps there you can catch something."

He watched as she sagged even more. Disappointment crossed her eyes, followed by a reluctant acceptance. What was that about? He mused.

Whitefur waited until he saw her disappear in the direction of the bushes before continuing towards the border. There was time before the next patrol, and he might as well renew the scent marks while he was in the area. After all, there had recently been scent discrepancies on the border, and Whitefur didn't want a war to begin so close to the start of leaf-bare.

As he padded through the forest, his anger was renewed. Yes, it was leaf-fall, and leaf bare would soon come! This was not the time to be missing prey. Spottedfern was one of the more air-headed she-cats in the Clan, but as far as he heard, she was usually not this mousebrained while hunting. Perhaps it was because he was the deputy of the Clan? Maybe that was making her nervous... But regardless, she needed to learn.

The HollyClan deputy stepped through a copse of trees, intent on marking a stump that symbolized a portion of the border, and was surprised to see a rival cat waiting at the border. His gray fur was illuminated by the slowly setting sun. Whitefur watched as his bushy tail waved back and forth. He appeared lost in thought.

Whitefur padded up behind him, carefully avoiding any loose sticks or crunchy leaves. Now that he was closer, he could recognize the tom as Squirrelfoot, a relatively new Warrior of FeatherClan. A feeling grew in Whitefurs mind, a nigling that something about this was familiar.