This is technically still Chapter One in the book, but I had to split it so that it wasn't quite so long. Anyways, enjoy!
Briar leapt down to join Rusty in the rough grass beyond their garden fences after making sure that Smudge had gotten home alright. The ginger tom beside her gave his shoulder a nervous lick, trying to appear confident.
Suddenly the movement of a tiny creature caught the pair's attention, and they watched it scuttle under some brambles. Rusty dropped into a low crouch, slowly drawing his body forward through the undergrowth.
Briar kept herself as silent as she could, trying to listen around for whatever had spooked Rusty the first time, while her friend was very focused on the creature that she now saw was a mouse, rocking his haunches from side-to-side, preparing to leap.
However, just as Rusty was preparing to leap, a sudden noise of cracking twigs and crunching leaves made the pair jump, the bell on Rusty's collar jangling treacherously, and the mouse darted away into the thickest tangle of the bramble bush. The two went very still, both pairs of eyes looking around.
The white tip of a red bushy tail caught their attention, slinking through a clump of tall ferns up ahead. The scent was strong and strange, definitely a meat-eater, but neither cat nor dog.
Briar soon recognized what it was from her mother's stories, and she tried to get Rusty's attention, but the tom was distracted by the red tail. He wanted a closer look.
While all of Rusty's senses were trained on the fox ahead of them, Briar heard a noise from behind them, the sound muted and distant, and her tufted, white-tipped ears swiveled backwards to hear it better.
Pawsteps? she wondered, noticing that Rusty had caught the sound as well, but he kept his gaze fixed on the red fox fur up ahead, continuing to creep onward. It was only when the faint rustling behind them became a loud and fast-approaching leaf-crackle that the pair realized they were in danger.
The creature hit like an explosion and Rusty was thrown sideways into a clump of nettles, Briar not far behind him. Twisting and yowling, Rusty tried to throw off the attacker that had fastened itself to his back. It was gripping him with incredibly sharp claws, similar to the ones Briar's mother would show off when she chased other cats out of her yard.
He writhed and squirmed from whisker to tail, but he couldn't free himself. For a second, he felt helpless, even though Briar was trying her best to get a grip on the creature; then he froze. Thinking fast, he flipped over onto his back. He knew instinctively how dangerous it was to expose his soft belly, but it was his only chance since Briar was now in front of him, unsure of what to do without hurting her friend.
He was lucky—the ploy seemed to work. He heard a "hhuffff" beneath him as the breath was knocked out of his attacker. Thrashing fiercely, Rusty managed to wriggle free. Without looking back the two friends sprinted toward their homes.
Behind them, a rush of pawsteps told both of them that Rusty's attacker was giving chase. Even though the pain of his scratches stung beneath his fur, Rusty decided that he would rather turn and fight than let himself be jumped on again. A glance at Briar saw fury and determination in her icy gaze, so the pair skidded to a stop, spun around, and faced their pursuer.
It was another kitten, with a thick coat of shaggy gray fur, strong legs, and a broad face. In a heartbeat, Briar smelled that it was a tom, and sensed the power in the sturdy shoulders underneath the soft coat, being swiftly reminded of her own mother. Then the kitten crashed into Rusty at full pelt.
Taken by surprise by the pair's turnabout, it fell back into a dazed heap. The impact knocked the breath out of Rusty, and he staggered. Briar placed herself in front of her friend as he got his footing back, both of them puffing out orange and black-and-white fur, ready to spring at the other kitten.
But their attacker simply sat up and began to lick a forepaw, all signs of aggression gone. Briar was relieved, though Rusty felt strangely disappointed. Every part of him was tense, ready for battle.
"Hi there, kittypets!" meowed the gray tom cheerfully. "You two put up quite a fight for tame kitties!"
Glancing at Rusty told her that her friend was still cautious, as was she, and even though she had not been attacked directly, Briar had seen the strength in the kitten's paws when he had Rusty pinned to the ground. So both dropped from their toes to their pads, loosened their muscles, and let their spines unbend.
"And I'll fight you again if I have to," Rusty growled.
"I'm Graypaw, by the way," the gray kitten went on, ignoring Rusty's threat and Briar's raised brow. "I'm training to be a Thunderclan warrior."
The two friends remained silent. Neither understood what this Graywhatsit was meowing about, but Briar seemed to sense that the threat had passed. Rusty hid his confusion by leaning down to lick his ruffled chest.
"What's a couple of kittypets like you doing out in the woods? Don't you know it's dangerous?" asked Graypaw.
"If you're the most dangerous thing the woods has to offer, then I think I can handle it," Rusty bluffed while Briar rolled her eyes.
"You do remember that my mother's the most dangerous thing this side of the forest, yes?" The she-cat reminded Rusty, who tried not to shrink back as he remembered his last not so great encounter with the older she-cat. Graypaw looked up at Rusty for a moment before his gaze strayed to Briar, narrowing his big yellow eyes.
"Oh, I'm far from the most dangerous. If I were even half a warrior, I'd have given an intruder like you some real wounds to think about." Rusty felt a thrill of fear at these ominous words. What did this cat mean by "intruder"?
"Anyways," meowed Graypaw, using his sharp teeth to tug at a clump of grass from between his claws, "I didn't think it was worth hurting either of you. You're obviously not from one of the other Clans."
"Other Clans?" Briar echoed, confused as to why she'd not heard of this yet. Graypaw let out an impatient hiss.
"You must have heard of the four warrior Clans that hunt around here! I belong to Thunderclan. The other Clans are always trying to steal prey from our territory, especially Shadowclan. They're so fierce they would have ripped to shreds, no questions asked."
Graypaw paused to spit angrily and continued: "They come to take prey that is rightfully ours. It's the job of the Thunderclan warriors to keep them out of our territory. When I've finished my training, I'll be so dangerous, I'll have the other Clans shaking in their flea-bitten skins. They won't dare come near us then!"
Briar felt both horrified and unimpressed at the amount of not just smugness, but also cockiness and awe that Graypaw felt for his supposed future of endless violence, and the fruitless and seemingly senseless anger he seemed to hold for these other Clans. Rusty though, narrowed his eyes.
This must be one of the wildcats Smudge had warned them about! Living rough in the woods, hunting and fighting each other for every last scrap of food. Yet unlike Briar, Rusty didn't feel scared or unimpressed. In fact, it was hard not to admire this confident kitten.
"So you're not a warrior yet?" he asked.
"Why? Did you think I was?" Graypaw purred proudly, then he shook his wide, furry head, unaware of Briar switching her now thoroughly unimpressed gaze from him to her best friend.
"I won't become a real warrior for ages. I have to go through training first. Kits have to be six moons old before they even begin training. Tonight is my first night out as an apprentice."
Seeing the wonder that was quickly appearing in Rusty's eyes, Briar stepped forward and meowed, "Why don't you find yourself an owner with a nice cozy house instead? Your life will be much easier," the she-cat hoped she sounded convincing.
"There are plenty of housefolk who'd take in a kitten like you. All you have to do is sit where they can see you and look hungry for a couple of days—"
"And they'd feed me pellets that look like rabbit droppings and soft slop!" Graypaw rudely interrupted. "No way! I can't think of anything worse than being a kittypet! They're nothing but Twoleg toys! Eating stuff that doesn't look like food, making dirt in a box of gravel, sticking their noses outside only when the Twolegs allow them? That's no life! Out here it's wild, and it's free. We come and go as we please." he finished his speech with a proud spit, then stepped forward so he was nose to nose with the black cat and meowed mischievously, "Until you've tasted a fresh-killed mouse, you haven't lived. Have either of you tasted mouse?"
"No," Rusty admitted, a little defensively, at the same time that Briar replied, "Yes." With a side-eye towards the black-and-white she-cat, the orange tom mumbled, "Not yet.", while Briar's reply was, "Not recently."
"I guess you'll never understand then." Graypaw sighed, though he did glance at Briar to see if she was telling the truth. "Neither of you were born wild. It makes a big difference. You need to be born with warrior blood in your veins, or the feel of the wind in your whiskers. Kitties born into Twolegs nests could never feel the same way."
Briar flinched back, a bit hurt, while Rusty mewed indignantly that that was not true. Graypaw did not reply, however. He suddenly stiffened midlick, one paw still raised, and sniffed the air.
"I smell cats from my Clan," he hissed. "You two should go. They won't be pleased to find you hunting in our territory!"
Rusty whipped his head around, sniffing for the cats that Graypaw said he smelled, though neither could smell anything different. Despite that, the fur on both friends stood on end at the note of urgency in Graypaw's voice.
"Quick!" Graypaw hissed again. "Run!" Rusty was panicking, unsure of which direction was safe to jump towards, while Briar seemingly calmed, though both were too late. A voice came from behind them, firm and menacing.
"What's going on here?"
Rusty and Briar turned to see a large gray she-cat strolling majestically out from the undergrowth. She was magnificent. White hairs streaked her muzzle, and an ugly scar parted the fur across her shoulders, but her smooth gray coat shone like silver in the moonlight.
"Bluestar!" Beside Rusty and Briar, Graypaw crouched down and narrowed his eyes. He crouched even lower when a second cat—a handsome, golden tabby—followed the gray cat into the clearing.
"You shouldn't be so near Twolegplace, Graypaw!" growled the golden tabby angrily, narrowing his green eyes.
"I know, Lionheart, I'm sorry." Graypaw looked down at his paws, all signs of cockiness gone. Rusty and Briar copied Graypaw, though more gracefully, and crouched low to the forest floor, the orange tom's ears twitching nervously.
These cats had an air of strength he had never seen in any of his garden friends. Maybe what Smudge had warned him about was true.
"Who are these?" asked the she-cat. Rusty flinched as she turned her gaze on him. Her piercing blue eyes made him feel even more vulnerable. Briar, though, remained calm and actually held the she-cat's gaze for as long as the other was looking at her.
"They're no threat," mewed Graypaw quickly. "Neither are from the other Clans, just a pair of Twoleg pets from beyond our territories."
Just a pair of Twoleg pets! The words inflamed both friends, but they held their tongues. The warning look in Bluestar's stare told them that she had observed the anger in their eyes, and Rusty looked away.
"This is Bluestar; she's leader of my Clan!" Graypaw hissed to the pair under his breath. "And Lionheart. He's my mentor, which means he's training me to be a warrior."
"Thank you for the introduction, Graypaw," meowed Lionheart coolly. Bluestar was still staring at Rusty.
"You fight well for a Twoleg pet," she meowed. The three younger cats exchanged confused glances. How did she know?
"We have been watching you both," Bluestar went on, as if she had read their thoughts. "We wondered how you would deal with an intruder, Graypaw. You attacked him bravely." Graypaw looked pleased at Bluestar's praise.
"Sit up now, all of you!" Bluestar looked at Rusty and Briar. "You too, kittypets." They sat up immediately and held Bluestar's gaze evenly as she addressed them.
"You reacted well to the attack, kittypet. Graypaw is stronger than you, but you used your wits to defend yourself. And you turned to face him when he chased you. I've not seen a kittypet do that before." Rusty managed to nod his thanks, taken aback by such unexpected praise. Her next words surprised him even more.
"I have been wondering how you would perform out here, beyond the Twolegplace. We patrol this border frequently, so I have often seen you sitting on your boundary, staring out into the forest. And now, at last, you've dared to place your paws here." Bluestar stared at Rusty thoughtfully.
"You do seem to have a natural hunting ability. Sharp eyes. You would have caught that mouse if you had not hesitated so long."
"R-really?" Rusty stammered, Bluestar then turned to Briar.
"You, on the other paw, I was not expecting to see out here. I have seen you on your fence, and by the river, I've seen how you hunt the fish there, and yet, even our most talented trackers have been unable to follow your trail most of the time. During the fight, you attempted to help where you could, even though Graypaw is larger than you, and you seemed to know when to pause in your attacks."
Again, the older she-cat looked thoughtful. Briar could only dip her head, secretly giddy at the praise. Lionheart spoke now. His deep meow was respectful but insistent.
"Bluestar, these are kittypets. They should not be hunting in Thunderclan territory. Send them home to their Twolegs!"
Briar's fur prickled at the dismissive words, but she was ready to turn around and do as Lionheart suggested when Rusty impatiently meowed, "Send us home?", causing his friend to freeze in her turn. Obviously, Bluestar's words had made him glow with pride. She had noticed him, noticed them both; she had been impressed by them. His next words made Briar wish the ground would swallow her up.
"But I've only come here to hunt for a mouse or two. I'm sure there's enough to go around." Bluestar had turned her head to acknowledge Lionheart's words. Now her gaze snapped back to Rusty. Her blue eyes were blazing with anger.
"There's never enough to go around," she spat, making Rusty back up to stand beside Briar again, who had remained frozen. "If you two didn't live such soft, overfed lives, you would know that!"
Rusty was confused by Bluestar's sudden rage, but one look at the horrified looks on Graypaw and Briar's faces was enough to tell him he had spoken too freely. Lionheart stepped to his leader's side. Both warriors loomed over him now. Rusty looked into Bluestar's threatening stare and his pride dissolved.
As Briar pressed into her friend's side, he realized that these were not cozy fireside cats he was dealing with—they were mean, hungry cats who were probably going to finish what Graypaw had started.
CLIFFHANGER! Yes, I know, I'm very evil. Briar seems to mention her mom a lot, huh?
[12/31/23 Edit] To those of you who have read this story before my 2024 rewrite, as you can see now, Briar is a bit sassier and more mature than Heron was, which I'm enjoying writing a lot more.