*****Simon's POV*****
Simon knew something weird was going on the moment he was picked up by one of the smaller Twolegs in the house and shoved into a crate. Elaine, Becky and Simon were each cooped up in a silver mesh cage, the bars rusted with age so they wouldn't be able to pull the door open like they used to. Underneath their cages, Simon could feel the thrumming of the car engine as it sped along.
Occasionally a large road bump would send him sprawling to the floor but otherwise he remains stalk still. A pink hairless hand was stroking at his ear fur through the gaps in the mesh wiring. The twoleg kit was murmuring something to him while she did so, as though she was telling him some sort of secret.
The tabby kittypet accepts the petting with ease, nuzzling into the hand with expert experience. Off to the side, Elaine was curled up into a tight ball getting some well needed shut eye. The twoleg kits had been chasing his mother around the house this morning, ignoring the tabby cat's protests of not wanting to be picked up whatsoever. Simon guesses she must be exhausted, otherwise Elaine would've been alert during the car ride to the vet.
Ah, yes the vet.
If there was one place Simon hated with a passion, it was the Vet's office. Something about the sterile white walls and metal tables and the smell of chemicals just made his head ache. His nose was also itch whenever he was in the place for over an hour (which was the case whenever they visited). The worse thing though was the veterinarian twoleg who worked there. She always made him feel uncomfortable, looking at him in areas he'd rather she stay away from.
The car jolted into a half as the car pulled up to the office. Simon burrows his face into his paws, inwardly groaning. His stomach rumbled faintly in what he felt was an agreement; the tabby hadn't eat since yesterday, the mouse he had caught last night was long since digested.
If I'd known we were going to the vet's I would've tried to down some cat food. He hadn't eaten the round tasteless pellets in the past few days, as the last time he'd downed a few he hacked them up only a few hours later. His stomach didn't accept anything outside of prey, where the blood was rich and warm.
Anything else I end up getting sick. The scraps his house folk gave him occasionally now made him feel sick to his stomach. My days of pasta and pizza are over. He thought forlornly of all the yummy food he could no longer eat. Simon wasn't completely as to how this change had happened in him, but if he had to guess it was because of that strange cat he'd met a couple weeks ago now.
His lithe frame swayed as his mesh cage was picked up by one of the small humans. From the flashes of long blonde hair and blue eyes he knew it was the female child carrying him. The young male was carrying his sister's mesh cage, the gray she-cat pressing her face to the mesh as though she was trying to get a better view of the office.
Through the cages, the two siblings could hardly get a good look of the building. The smell of it was like lots and lots of germ x and antibacterial soap. As Elaine was the only cat allowed out of the cage before they walked into the building, the mother cat was pestered by her children as to what the building looked like on the outside.
"It looks like all the other buildings here: tall, white and foreboding. Now let me rest." She told them rather snappily, unhappy to have been woken up by the eldest of the house folk.
A few scratches on the human's left arm was a testament to her grumpiness. Elaine was curled up in a chair now, her gray tabby tail hanging over the edge of the tail. The slight twitch of his mother's tail tip let him know she's still awake.
Becky was padding around the male human who worked at the front desk, her slim figure slipping between the man's legs with ease. Simon padded over to join her, his hunger temporarily forgotten. Overhead, the eldest of the housefolk was chatting with the office worker their two scratchy voices filling the air.
The tabby didn't have the slightest clue as to what the two were talking about, but for whatever reason the female kept pointing at him and Becky before rubbing at her fingertips. The lab coat wearing human was nodding, gray wire things sitting atop the bridge of his nose.
"Becky, do you have any idea what they're talking about?" He asked her. Becky paused from her ministrations of rubbing the human's legs. Her eyes were big and round, white light glinting off of them.
"If I had to ask, they're talking about trimming our claws." She mews easily, stretching out her back with a deep arching stretch.
He can't hear it, but he imagines her bones are popping. Simon tilts his head, taking the prospect of claw trimming into perspective. He unsheathes his claws to examine them. The white claws were much sharper and longer than they'd been since the last time he'd been with Clary. Perhaps a trim would do them some good. He certainly didn't want his claws to become dull, he wouldn't be able to kill his prey as easily.
And then another voice joins the conversation, the owner of it sleepy. "No, it's more than that." Elaine let out a massive yawn, blinking sleep out of her eyes.
"What do you mean?" Simon asks her. He doesn't understand why, but fear is working away in his gut now. Becky watches the exchange silently beside Simon, content to just listen to her mother and brother's conversation as she grooms down fur sticking up on her flanks.
"Simon, the house folk brought Becky and I here to get our claws trimmed. You on the other paw are going to the cutter." His mother tells him.
Simon's amber-brown eyes widen in alarm, his tabby fur spiking up along his scruff. Overhead the humans continue their conversation, mindlessly unaware of Simon's freak out session. No no no no no NO! I can't lose my claws! How will I be able to defend myself if I don't have them? How will I ever be able to get to Clary again?
He pictures the pretty ginger she-cat, her small form sitting outside of HunterClan territory waiting for him to arrive. But Simon can't even climb the fence to get out into the woods, without his claws to aid him. Instead he scrabbles helplessly at white wood, not being able to find purchase.
Fast forward to several years later, where Clary has completely forgotten about him and moved on with another more handsome tabby tom that has his claws. Meanwhile Simon lives with his family, forever hemmed inside the house and the backyard, starving most nights because he has an exceedingly hard time catching anything without his sharp white claws. The vision sends a ripple of fear down his spine.
"No way! They wouldn't do that to me." He mewed.
Elaine sighed, rolling her eyes. "Simon, they may be dumb, but the humans still notice things. So they notice when you're out at all odd hours of the night, and they find all those dead animal remains they find underneath the house. And with how wild your father was....I can't say I blame them. You've gotten out of control Simon. They're worried for you, as am I." She murmurs gently, reaching out a consoling paw. Simon flinches away from it, a heavy stone dropping in his gut. She really is serious...
"Mom! They can't do that to Simon!" Becky exclaims, no longer able to be silent. His sister stands protectively in front of him, her expression filled with anger.
Elaine shook her head. "You say it like I have a choice in the matter. The humans came to this decision on their own and they're not going to change their minds. They don't want something bad to happen to Simon like it did with his father. He wandered around too much, and then he died." She says this morbidly, her eyes dark.
"You don't know that the same thing will happen to Simon." Becky growled angrily. "And how can you speak about father like that!?" She yowled. Simon had been wondering the same thing. Mother had been only saddened by the death of their father, never angry about it. Seeing his mother so mad was truly a strange sight to see.
The humans heard Becky's loud shouting, the female reaching down and scooping up his sister before handing her over to the vet. The male human was humming to himself, saying something to the two children out in the waiting room before heading back into the office room with Becky in tow. Simon felt numb with fear, his fur standing up all over his pelt.
Elaine notices this and shifts her paws. "It's alright son. Most cats get declawed, especially toms. It doesn't make you any less of a cat." She murmurs gently. The elder cat given up on trying to reach out to him, instead hoping consoling words would be enough.
She's wrong though, his mind echoes fiercely. Simon would be less of a cat if he was declawed. He would no longer get to be with his friends, no longer able to be free. The tabby tom would be dependent on humans for the rest of his life. His mother was used to this, having been declawed for many years, but Simon knew he couldn't be cooped up like that. I need to be free! Never before had he understood Clary's decision to live in the wild with such clarity.
Lumbering foot steps alert him to the vet coming back with Becky. The she-cat's claws were neatly trimmed so only tiny points remained, a healthy length by human standards. The man was going to set down Becky when the she-cat cried out to him, her voice raised as high as it could go.
"Run! Simon run! Don't let him grab you!" She yowls so loud that all the humans in the room are startled by the sound.
The two children let out their own little yowls, their mother dropping the flimsily paper thing from her hand. The old man with the equally old dog sitting in the corner don't stir, though the man does let out a snuffled snort.
His mother opens her jaws to protest, but Simon doesn't wait to hear her no doubt angry response. Simon turns tail and sprints as fast as he can, his paws skidding on the polished white tile flooring. He slams face first into the glass door with such force that he manages to head butt it open.
Light shines on his tabby coat as he darts out of the building as quickly as he can. Simon has to squint with all the sunshine streaming over the hillside, his blood pounding in his ears as he leaps down the concrete steps two at a time as he makes his escape from the building.
One of the humans are following him judging by the shouts and footfalls coming from behind him. He doesn't dare look back to find out which one it is. The black road feels rough underneath his paws as he makes it out to the street, his eyes searching frantically for an escape route. He spots a clump of trees sticking out of the ground off to the left across a deserted road.
Yes! That's perfect! I can lose the human in the woods. Confident his plan will work, Simon veers past a blaring red stop sign then proceeds to lunge onto the open road. If it hadn't been deserted he doubts he would've attempted crossing; the young kittypet had heard one too many tales of other cats getting hit by cars.
Simon manages to cross the ThunderPath without any obstacles. He sighs relieved, thinking that his troubles are over. Of course that's when two big, hairless pink hands reach out from behind him and grab at his flanks in an attempt to scoop him up.
"No!" Simon yowls, struggling in vain against meaty paws.
******Sparkpaw's POV******
After the ThunderPath fiasco, Arrowheart wanted her to sit down and rest for a bit. Patchfur supported this notion wholeheartedly, saying that they were all a bit too frazzled to travel. With graceful strides, the black and ginger warrior led his boyfriend and the apprentice further into the undergrowth away from the roaring of the ThunderPath.
"I'll go catch us something to eat. Since we're not going anywhere for now we might as well take a lunch break." Patchfur told them, whisking his tail before disappearing into the trees.
Arrowheart watches him go, blue eyes trained on the warlock's sleek form until he was no longer visible. Once he was gone, Arrowheart goes over to Sparkpaw. Her mentor's movements are stiff and weary, the run across pavement couldn't have done anything good for the black furred warrior.
From up close Sparkpaw can see that the white spot of fur on Arrowheart's chest is no longer visible. Mud layered on thick lies in its wake, the slippery stuff drying up in misshapen clumps. This was from the collapse to the ground earlier no doubt. If the Shadowhunter cared about the state of his fur, he didn't comment about it aloud. Instead he began checking her over with a narrowed azure gaze.
"I don't see any wounds so that's good. You're still in shock though, otherwise you'd be grooming yourself already." He tells her his assessment without batting an eye.
Sparkpaw glances down at her fur, surprised she didn't notice just how mud and muck covered it was. Taking a good whiff she finds that she smells of sloshed rainwater, gravel and of course, mud. Her nose wrinkles in disgust, not wanting to have to clean the yucky tasting stuff off of her ginger coat.
Noticing her expression, Arrowheart rolls his eyes. "I'll clean you off. Just hold still."
Without anymore preamble, Sparkpaw feels Arrowheart's tongue licking at her shoulder fur with smooth strokes. Luckily, the mud wasn't that caked onto her skin so it came off with relative ease.
While he's busy grooming her, Sparkpaw takes the time to note the scenery around them. Grass spills in droves on either side of them stretching out and over their heads. As it turns out, Patchfur had led them to a small hollow in the earth.
A few oak trees stretched up over their heads, the leaves in the trees sending dappled sunlight to the forest floor. If she tilted her head up (she does) Sparkpaw can see the faintest hints of white buildings off in the distance. One building in particular had reflective surface doors that seem oddly familiar to her, though the she-cat can't fathom as why that might be.
A few minutes later the warrior steps back to admire his work. Blue eyes are focused on her fur in approval. Sparkpaw finds herself missing the feel of him so up close; she'd gotten so use to having other cats be close to her (her mother, Simon, Goldenclaw) so with her mother unconscious, Simon with his Twolegs, and Goldenclaw....well being moody she wasn't getting the closeness she was used to. It made her yearn for affection, no matter how brief. With Arrowheart and Patchfur getting so close she felt strangely like a third wheel on a date rather than a member of an important expedition.
"Do you want me to clean you off?" Sparkpaw asks. She'd rather not lick the caked on mud off Arrowheart's pelt, but the action would keep her busy so the apprentice couldn't help asking.
Arrowheart lets out a chuckle. "I appreciate the gesture but I'll be fine. Besides, you have the same look on your face that Nightrose makes whenever she has to get mud out of my fur: complete disgust. I don't know how my sister manages to keep so clean, though I know her idea of it being because 'her purity repels dirt' is total mouse dung." He mews.
Sparkpaw giggles at his words, having seen Nightrose react to mud before herself. The sleek black she-cat would complain loudly about it for several minutes, her tail twitching in swift upset motions.
"Are you sure you're sure? There might be mud in places you can't reach." She tells him.
Arrowheart nods. "I've taken that into consideration and I have a plan."
Sparkpaw tilts her head at that, whiskers twitching. "And what would that entail?"
Arrowheart flicked his tail. "Wait and see." He strides over to a small clump of grass that's still damp from morning dew.
Sparkpaw can see the prismatic light reflecting off the small drops of water, so many in fact that the blades of grass are weighed down. The Shadowhunter tom plops down on top of them, rolling in the dampness. She wonders why in the name of the Angel the stoic warrior would do such a silly thing, but then the apprentice sees it.
The mud that had been dried to black fur in haphazard clumps was beginning to soften, turning back into liquid. By the time Arrowheart gets up his pelt is almost free of mud, though there are a few pieces of grass sticking to his glistening fur. With the dappled lighting and fluffed out fur that he was working on drying, Arrowheart looked much austere than usual.
He actually looks pretty cute right now.....though I'm certain he wouldn't take that as a compliment. Patchfur took this moment to return to them, a sparrow clamped by the wing in his jaws. The feathery animal was speckled brown and gray, the smell of its rich woody scent making her mouth water. Patchfur places the bird down to let Sparkpaw strip the feathers from it before turning to Arrowheart.
"Why darling you're all wet." Patchfur murmurs, going to Arrowheart's side. Sparkpaw watches them from her spot in front of the sparrow with veiled amusement.
"I-I, it's fine Patchfur you don't have to..." Arrowheart backs away a little as Patchfur reaches out a paw to wipe away some of the strands of grass.
The Shadowhunter's hind paws end up tripping over something (Sparkpaw thinks it was a rock) that causes him to trip not backwards, but forwards into Patchfur. The two toms tumble to the forest floor with Patchfur ending up on top. Arrowheart looks a bit disgruntled and is that blush?
Patchfur just looks amused, his golden green gaze swimming with an emotion she could not name, though she'd seen it before in the way Goldenclaw used to look at her. Thoughts of the golden tabby set off a pang of longing in her heart.
Will things be different when Patchfur, Arrowheart and I return home? Or will he still treat me with such awkwardness? Sparkpaw pushes the thoughts away, focusing on removing the rest of the feathers from the sparrow. Her ears remained perked up so she can hear the rest of the exchange between Arrowheart and Patchfur.
"Arrowheart, you're quite cute when you blush." Patchfur purred. Some rustling was heard; Sparkpaw assumes Patchfur is brushing Arrowheart's fur with a paw. The sound of magic being activated flares up into the air, the smell of burnt sugar filling the air.
"Patchfur!" Arrowheart whines in protest. Sparkpaw glances up in time to see her mentor ducking his head away from the warlock's warm gaze. A teasing glint fills Patchfur's eyes, his whiskers twitching.
"Hold still. I'm almost done." Patchfur hushes Arrowheart with a gently placed paw to the muzzle.
Blue sparks of magic run all the way up the former MagicClan cat's forelegs. The dazzling light mesmerizes Arrowheart and Sparkpaw both, the two HunterClan cats unable to look away. Patchfur soaks up the attention with glee and moments later is stepping away from Arrowheart, the Shadowhunter's fur completely clean now.
This step back was not however until the bicolored warrior gave Arrowheart a soft nuzzle nose to nose. Arrowheart rises to his paws still flustered, his blue eyes wide and round. The affection written in them was clear as day, as was the affection in Patchfur's own gaze. Sparkpaw can't help but imagine this same action being done to her with a handsome golden tabby. A soft, loving touch....with the promise of more....
"Sparkpaw, is the fresh-kill ready yet?" Arrowheart's inquiry brings her out of her thoughts. The ginger apprentice gives him a jerky nod, motioning for the two warriors to join her in sharing the prey.
"This area is prey poor with very little coverage." Patchfur comments. "So we should travel for a little while longer before stopping for the night." Arrowheart and Sparkpaw agree and then the three cats dig in.
*****Patchfur's POV*****
They'd just finished with the sparrow and were getting ready to head off when the sound of a loud caterwaul was heard. It was followed by an equally loud screech that made a few birds shrill in alarm. Patchfur's head swings from side to side, as does his companions', all three cats trying to pinpoint where the noise was coming from.
"This way!" Arrowheart says, sprinting slightly off to the right. Patchfur and Sparkpaw trail behind the long legged warrior. The warlock keeps his gaze ahead as best he can, though he knows that he's going through the motions.
I just can't help looking at him. Arrowheart's tall lithe frame makes him look quite dashing, especially in moments like this when he's in his Shadowhunter mode. A mode that makes him feel the need to help out any cat that needs help regardless of who they might be.
Patchfur can't help but admire the way the winds bristles through dark fur, or zero in on sharp, soulful blue eyes as Arrowheart's head turns before his paws are adjusting trajectory to land on the ground. Sparkpaw trails behind them, the apprentice doing her best to keep up with fully grown warriors.
The three cats race out onto a stretch unsheltered grass right before a small deserted ThunderPath. A big white building looms up across from it with a strange reflective opening Patchfur knows must be a glass door.
As it turns out, the caterwaul came from a tabby tom. The cat looked awfully familiar, though Patchfur couldn't remember for the life of him what the guy's name was. The kittypet was trying to get away from a twoleg dressed up in a long white thing that billowed down to his legs.
The warlock doesn't know what it's called, but he understands that this indicates that the Twoleg is like a Medicine cat in the human world. The thought would be more comforting is the tabby wasn't so freaked out by the healer.
"Simon!" Sparkpaw shouts, streaking towards the struggling tom.
Two hairless hands were gripping Sheldon tightly, trying to lift him up. Sparkpaw reaches them, springing up at the Twoleg's hands and biting down hard. The human let's out a cry of pain and drops Simeon down immediately.
The two young cats sprint away from the Twoleg immediately, not waiting around for the healer to recover. Patchfur follows them with great haste as does Arrowheart. He can feel his boyfriend's hot breath brushing his tail as they run.
The cats don't even pause when they reach the ThunderPath, instead skirting across hard pavement as quick as they can before disappearing into a deeper stretch of forest off on the left side of the foreboding tall building that was covered with dark blue shingles up on the rooftop.
Only once they reach a scattered group of thickets do they stop; bushes and trees surrounding them on all sides. The four cats are gasping for air of for the first few seconds, trying to calm down their racing hearts. The little silver tags on Savon's collar tingle as his body shakes as though he's still gripped by fear.
"Simon, are you alright?" Sparkpaw asks.
"I-I-I'm fine. Thanks for the save back there. If you hadn't shown up when you did-" the young tabby cuts himself off, a full body shudder rippling down his spine.
Sparkpaw gazes at her friend sympathetically as does Arrowheart surprisingly enough. Patchfur wants to ask what had just happened, but he doubts the kittypet would be able to tell them while in such a distraught state. The flame colored she-cat gently licks his ruffled up fur down in a soothing gesture that gets her friend to calm down. Patchfur sits down next to his boyfriend to watch the silent exchange between the two friends.
"I wonder what happened to him?" Patchfur asks idly.
Arrowheart shrugs, his expression grim. "I'm not sure, but I'm guessing we'll find out soon enough." He murmurs softly. Patchfur murmurs his agreement the two boyfriends patiently waiting for Sonar to calm down before questioning him. It was unusual to see the tabby so quiet, the tom was often very talkative.
Then they heard the lumbering footfalls of a Twoleg approaching. They could tell it was a human and not an animal because the movements were placed without a care, heavy brisk as the human moved through the undergrowth.
Arrowheart's ears angled toward the tall alder tree. It's toothed pattern leaves stood out like a sore toe amidst the smaller scraggly trees surrounding it. The foliage was so thick he could hardly see any of the branches that the leaves grew from.
"Come on you four. We have to hide where the Twoleg won't find us." The Shadowhunter orders, a serious expression on his face.
If Patchfur had the time, he would've observed Arrowheart's tough guy expression more. The way his azure gaze goes from an ocean of twinkling stars to a lake frozen over with shards of ice was very fascinating. As he didn't, Patchfur helps Sardine haul himself up the tree, Arrowheart likewise helping Sparkpaw as the four cats clamor up into the safety of the tree.
The tree leaves prove to be as prickly as Patchfur had imagined they'd be, several of them dig into his pelt. His fur prickles with discomfort as the desire to climb down becomes increasingly appealing. Beside him Salon clings stiffly to the branch with tension rippling in his body. Above them Arrowheart and Sparkpaw are crouched on their own branch, gazing at the clearing below.
The twoleg bursts into view and as it turns out he's not alone. Two smaller Twolegs and another adult Twoleg are with him, their howling voices making Sal wince. Patchfur looks at the tabby and then at the humans below, coming to the quick conclusion that the three new Twolegs must be his owners.
Silicon looks like he wants to go to them, but doesn't. The bicolored warrior doesn't question this, averting his gaze away from the tabby tom. When the Twolegs leave the cats scramble down from the tree. Despite his love of the river, Patchfur relishes in the feeling of soft grass as his paws touch the ground.
Not for one second will I ever miss being up in that tree, he scowls up at the enormous thing. Though if he was being fair, Patchfur was grateful that the tree protected them from being spotted.
Arrowheart turns on Shiela quickly, his blue eyes flashing. "Now that their finally gone, I think it's about time you talked." He growled. Sparkpaw watches her mentor worriedly, her green eyes round. Patchfur goes over to Arrowheart's side to show his support. After going through all that struggle to help Sherman, it was about time they received answers.
Shakespeare nods. "Alright. Where do I begin...."
*****************
A/N: Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd another chapter done. Hope y'all are having a great weekend. Trying to come up with new names for Simon became increasingly difficult and amusing as I went along. Let me know in the comments what y'all think. See ya next time!