Ivystream growled lowly at the bright white tom, aptly named Frosty. She had been kept prisoner by this tom and his ragtag group of wildcats for a week and a half now. Finally she'd requested to fight for her freedom and Frosty had complied.
Now she stared, unafraid, into the tom's scarred face. He seemed smug; she knew what he was thinking. He's thinking of what he's going to do with my corpse, she thought. He doesn't know I was trained as a Warrior. He doesn't even know what a Warrior is!
She lashed her tail and circled around him cautiously, sizing him up. He had a thick coat of fur on his neck and tail, but the undercoat sparsed into nothing on his main body and face. While she couldn't easily slice his jugular, she could probably make a series of small cuts...
Suddenly the bigger cat lunged. Ivystream, a quick thinker, jodged to the side and watched as Frosty hit empty space.
She called back on what her Mentor had taught her: Cats are made to run, she'd said, Not stand their ground. If you can run long enough to tire them, you'll win.
She turned and scrambled away.
This little clowder's "camp" was a large landfill, with long paths made by generations of feral cats living there and using the same trails through the years. She used these to her advantage, darting across 90 degree hairpin turns, dissapearing into an enclosed tunnel of trash, leaving false trails of scent.
By the time she managed to loophole her way to the other side of the trash pile, Frosty was starting to pant. He's not tired enough, her instincts screamed.
She prepared to bolt, but Frosty was already on to her. He lunged forward and caught her flank, knocking her on her side. He snarled in triumph as he stood over her, a single paw on her chest.
This is it, she thought, eyes wide. I'm never going to die the peaceful life of a Warrior. I'm never going to found a New Clan...
"Pledge your allegiance to me," Frosty growled, "And I'll let you live."
"I'll be indebted to you for as long as you live," Ivystream said quickly, realizing she had a huge chance here.
He grinned wickedly and stepped off her. "That's a good forest kitty," He purred with a stupid smile.
Ivystream lashed her tail, feeling blood bead out of the clawmarks on her side. She crawled into one of the central tunnels, a complicated network of underground chutes. She was allowed to wander freely here, on the condition she didn't come to the surface without reason. Only one tunnel led outside; she'd tried to escape once, but that lead to the tunnel exit being heavily guarded. It was useless.
She padded through the subterranian walkways, listening to the conversations above when she could evesdrop undetected. Nothing interesting ever came up, so she went about her business every few minutes.
Suddenly her sense of direction told her she was under Frosty's cozy den. She could feel the warmth of the hay decaying even from here, underground. She flicked a notched ear nervously, eyes wide.
Then she noticed something lodged in the wall of the walkway, and used her claws to dig at it.
It was a long, sharp, rusty metal beam with jagged edges and a sharp odor to it. She realized that ingenuity was the key to defeating Frosty; not brute strength at all.
She sniffed around, pushing the metal beam along in front of her, until she found the tunnel that lead directly into Frosty's den. She carefully dropped the metal beam on the floor of the tunnel and listened to Frosty speak: he had many mates, but a female named Flower was his main one.
"What do you think I should do about our prisoner?" Frosty was meowing ad Ivystream settled down.
"She is quite fiesty," Flower admitted. "Perhaps it would be best to take her as your newest mate?"
"That would only give her reason to try and escape again," Frosty growled. "I can tell she's devoted to someone else entirely."
Am I? Could she ever be devoted to another cat, what with the secret she had bottled up inside her? Could she ever be truthful to a lover if she wasn't telling whole truths?
"Well, do you know this cat she's so fixed on?" Flower mewed. "Perhaps you could... entice her. Give her a reason to stay," the older queen purred.
"How so?" Frosty meowed.
"You could take him prisoner and make him part of our colony," Flower rolled on her back and purred enticingly at Frosty, who growled back playfully.
"And if he resists?" Frosty asked distractedly. "As I'm sure he will..."
"Slit his throat," Flower said calmly. "Or chomp on his windpipe and crush it 'till dark blood spews. Only then would she listen and have a reason to stay: she'd have no reason to return."
Suddenly a howl rose in Ivystream's throat. She wasn't sure where it came from, but it spewed forth from her mouth like a volcanic eruption of shrill sound. Both cats whirled around, shocked and terrified by the sound.
"The prisoner!" Flower gasped, as if surprised that her mate's actions would lead to evesdroppers.
"You have no reason to be here," Frosty growled, stepping in front of Flower. "Go back to the tunnels."
"I want to fight you again," Ivystream growled breathlessly, feeling adrenaline pump through her veins once more.
"I'll kill you," Frosty snarled, and lunged himself at the small she-cat, teeth bared.
Ivystream swept down and grasped the rusty beam, thrusting it into the air. There was a long screech as metal scraped bone, and she felt the resistance of feline inertia on the long strip of musty metal.
For a long time after the fateful thud, neither she-cat spoke. Ivystream gazed in horror at her work.
The steel pole was jabbed through the tom's chest, and blood spilled all over the den's floor. His eyes were open and his mouth agape, twitching with the last throes of life. The memory of steel-on-bone scraping was fresh on Ivystream's teeth, grating and nightmarish.
She walked out, letting Flower scream out her grief incoherently. She stumbled half-consiously and yowled victoriously into a dusky sky filled with half-visible stars and a pale moon. The wildcats of the small colony stared in astonishment, connecting the dots: for she had speckles of blood on her chest.
She had won her freedom at last.
And she had also won the loyalty of Frosty's colony.
***
"Guys?" Ivystream mewed nervously as she stepped close to the spot where she last remembered seeing the Clan ambassadors. "You there? Bramblefoot? Rookheart? Ice?"
A small brown face peered out of the old dumpster and lit up. "Ivystream...?"
"Yep," She purred as Ice slunk out into the sun. "Where... where are the others?"
"A strange white cat came and forced them to leave. I elected to wait for you." Ice explained.
Ivystream felt her heart warm at his devotion.
"So when should we leave to find them?"
The question hit Ivystream like a brick. The young warrior had spent the last 3 days reforming the Colony and making them more Clanlike.
"I can't leave," She concluded.
Ice seemed taken aback. "And why is that?"
"I killed that white tom - Frosty," Ivystream spat the tom's name with disgust. "The cats in his group said that makes me their leader. I spent the last three days forming them into a Clan..."
"You want to live here," Ice sighed, "So you can create your Clan and fulfill your destiny."
"Basically," Ivystream nodded. I'm glad he understands, she thought in relief. "You can go look for them if you'd like..."
"No," Ice said inertly.
"... What?" Ivystream cocked her head to one side.
"I'm not leaving you." Ice mewed.
"... You'll help me found my Clan?" Ivystream gasped in astonishment.
"Of course I will," Ice purred. "Why wouldn't I?"