Chapter 4- Lost
The biting stench of mouse bile-soaked moss made Sunpaw’s lip curl with disgust. Her ears were flat against her head as she dropped it near a gray-striped elder, Shortwhisker. Sunpaw let out a little growl as she started to knead the mouse bile into Shortwhisker’s fur.
“A little to the left,” Shortwhisker snapped, flicking his tail irritably. Sunpaw obliged, swallowing a sharp response. She was tired and angry, it was sunrise after the Gathering and she had already had to fetch mouse bile from Owlpelt for the elders.
“No need to look so down, Sunnypaw. We elders aren’t all bad, you know,” Mapleflower mewed, stretching out on her side.
“It’s Sunpaw, not Sunnypaw. And, with all due respect, I really don’t think so,” Sunpaw snarled.
“Why are you so grumpy?” Mapleflower mewed quietly, busy grooming herself.
Sunpaw heaved an aggravated sigh and stalked out of the elder’s den, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going to go get some moss.”
Luckily for Sunpaw, the elders really did need moss. And BurnClan’s supply of moss was pretty far from camp. Yawning, she started along. She didn’t think she was going to be able to stay with the elders much longer, and it had only been a moon! She knew she deserved it, but that only further fueled her anger.
“Hey Sunpaw!” Brightpaw purred, joining her sister and matching her pace easily.
“What do you want?” Sunpaw retorted, trying to go faster.
“How’re the elders?” Brightpaw asked, ignoring Sunpaw’s temper, and Sunpaw was disgusted to hear a note of sympathy in her voice.
“Fine. I’m getting some moss,” she mewed shortly, hoping to discourage her sister’s presence.
“I’ll come! I can help you carry it back. In fact, all of the dens need some moss; it’s been a while since someone’s gone all the way toward the pond to get some. We might need some more help,” Brightpaw’s eyes grew bright with excitement and before Sunpaw could stop her, she had added Sparrowpaw and Thistlepaw to their little patrol.
Sunpaw motioned her sister aside, “What are you doing?!”
“Aw, come on Sunpaw, we do need the moss, and it’s a chance to play with some of the apprentices again!” Brightpaw encouraged, though she shuffled her paws with uncertainty.
“I don’t want to play with anyone! Especially not that mouse-dung Thistlepaw!”
“I know, but he was with Sparrowpaw when I went to ask him…”
“Well, why didn’t you get someone other than Sparrowpaw then? Do you want me to get in even more trouble?” Sunpaw snarled, her fur bristling.
Brightpaw opened her mouth to answer, but Thistlepaw wove in between them, meowing coolly, “Let’s go.” Sunpaw nearly spat at his calm behavior, but managed to simply hurry ahead.
Soon Sunpaw decided to ignore them, and started along again as if they weren’t there. She could hear Brightpaw talking to them, but couldn’t make out any words. Sunpaw closed her eyes, trying to forget them completely. She could feel the strength of the sun absorbed in her coat and let out a little purr.
BurnClan territory was the sunniest of all, with tall green grass that was wonderful to lie in and share tongues. The camp was near the few trees a couple miles from Twolegplace, where the forest next to the Thunderpath grew sparse.
The blades of grass bent under Sunpaw’s belly and sprung up around her, concealing her pelt from the other apprentices as she got further ahead. She opened her mouth and allowed the scents to reach her scent glands; the comforting smells of grass as well as a little preyscent welcomed her.
Her ears flicked forward and her stomach growled a little as the clear scent of mouse reached her. She dropped into a crouch, flicking her tail as quietly as possible to balance on her back leg. Trying furiously to ignore the way she swayed side to side unsteadily, Sunpaw crept forward.
She could see the mouse now, a good fat one, eating a seed underneath a halfway-concealed den. It paused to look around, and then vigorously began washing it’s whiskers. Mouth watering, Sunpaw prepared to pounce.
Just when the timing was perfect, a small breeze blew, knocking Sunpaw slightly off balance. She swished her tail furiously, struggling to regain balance. Hopping around awkwardly on her back leg, she tried to find the mouse again but it had gone. She was too loud.
Spitting rage, Sunpaw took a hard swipe at the ground and then swung her head around to bite her shoulder. Her sharp teeth quickly broke the surface, and she squeezed harder until some of the anger and disappointment seceded.
She heard the other apprentices approaching and hurried forward. Any other cat would have easily caught the mouse; the breeze would have been an advantage because it carried her scent away. Any cat with four legs.
Swallowing a mew of sadness mixed with fury, Sunpaw rushed forward. She hadn’t the faintest idea where she was going, but she wanted to be alone. Every lopsided step she took seemed to burn her pelt with pain. Why had she been born this way?!
It didn’t take long for the young apprentice to get lost. She had only been allowed to explore the territory once or twice, and the grass in the particular area she had wandered to had grown taller than her.
Poking her nose through the strands of grass, she opened her mouth and let the scents flow over her scent glands. She was hoping for any familiar scent, a border mark, or somewhere some cat had been hunting recently.
Her heart began beating faster, overcome with too many emotions, as she started forward blindly. No familiar scents anywhere, every step the ground felt cold and relentless. In BurnClan territory, the grounds were sunny and overflowing with prey. Here it was unfamiliar, ragged sticks jabbing her side, the dirt oddly moist.
“Ow!” she exclaimed as a sharp pain entered her paw. Sitting down awkwardly, she began to ease the thorn out as gently as possible. But her teeth couldn’t quite hold the small intruder, and she could feel it digging deeper and deeper into her paw.
She stood up, hissing at nothing in particular. Wincing with every pawstep, she kept moving forward. Eventually she would reach a border and then she could find her way back. But the more she moved, the more on edge she felt. Every hair on her pelt was raised defensively; she jumped at the slightest sounds.
Finally she had to stop. The muscles in her one hind leg were incredibly sore and the thorn was making her limp even more. Her breathing was labored as she swept her tongue over herself, smoothing irritated scratches from sticks and bushes, trying to comfort her aching muscles. Her shoulder prickled uncomfortably from when she had bitten herself earlier.
For once she wished she were back with the Elders. Back in BurnClan with the sun beating down on her, the familiar smells surrounding her.
I don’t need them! Sunpaw decided angrily, her throat choked, All I’m good for is a laugh, no one believes that I will amount to anything.
The pain from her wounds was the only thing stopping her from venting her fury physically. They’re better off without me. And it was true. Sunpaw couldn’t lie to herself about missing her Clan, nor about needing them, but she knew she was more of a hindrance than a help. That’s why she was in the Elders den, with the useless cats.
Sunpaw looked up miserably towards the sky. The clouds were darkening threateningly, and the day was fading to night. She hardly remembered how much time she had spent after missing the mouse, but it must have been more than she imagined.
“It isn’t fair!” she yowled, every inch of pain inside and outside expressed in one defiant call. It was her against the world, against herself, against her Clan.
“That’s life,” came a rasping, slithery voice.
Sunpaw sprang to her paws, hissing furiously, “Who’s there?”
“Defensive, aren’t we?” the voice mewed, a hint of amusement apparent.
“Come out,” Sunpaw ordered, she didn’t like the cold feeling she was getting whenever the voice spoke.
“Very well,” it didn’t sound quite as cold as a mangy, flea-ridden, scarred, black-and-white tom appeared from behind a nearby tree. Sunpaw sized him up quickly; he was much bigger than her, but scrawny and obviously bad off. His scars were impressive though, and in her weakened state, she didn’t anticipate a victory.
“Who’re you?” she demanded, allowing annoyance, fury, and disgust to taint her tone.
“Friendly, as always,” the tom noted, “I’m Scram. At least that’s what the Twolegs call me.”
“You’re a kittypet then?” Sunpaw snarled, wondering why he looked so badly fed. Kittypets were supposed to be fat and soft.
“Do I look like a kittypet?” Scram sneered, voicing her thoughts, “I’m more of what you Clan cats would call a Loner.”
“How did you know I was a Clan cat?” Sunpaw asked, voice faltering slightly. She began backing away slowly as the tom approached.
“Oh, you can always tell with Clan cats. Well-fed but hard-muscled, and you have a certain ‘dialect’,” Scram stated, as if it were obvious.
“Oh,” Sunpaw answered, growing more and more nervous. Scram seemed to be pressing slowly towards her, pushing her farther and farther away from where she had been resting.
“Yes. You still haven’t told me your name,” Scram meowed, sitting briefly to scratch his ear.
“No. I haven’t,” Sunpaw growled, her paws starting to itch for a fight.
“Well,” Scram surmised slowly, looking her straight in the eyes, “I suppose you’re not obliged to. So what are you doing here, Clan cat?”
“None of your business,” she snapped quickly, glancing around for some sort of escape. The only problem was she hadn’t the slightest idea where she was.
Scram paused, considering her answer, and then let out a little mrrow, “I suppose you’re right. But I can guess. You’re lost.”
Sunpaw opened her mouth to argue, but decided better of it and kept her mouth shut.
“Yes I thought so,” Scram murmured, looking sideways at her, “You’re near Twolegplace if that’s what you’re wondering, going the opposite way of your Clan.”
Surprised, Sunpaw looked around, “Oh-uh… thanks?”
“Mhm,” Scram said mildly, “But I wouldn’t head back if I were you. You crossed what you Clan cats would call Rogue territory. Traveling through that in the middle of the night is a bad idea.”
“Why’re you helping me?” Sunpaw hissed suspiciously. She sat down, noticing that they were quite a ways from where they had started. Instead of the flat, prickly, thorn-covered patch of wasteland, they were in a wet, grassy field with strange Twoleg trees coming out of the ground.
Scram shrugged his shoulders passively, “I could use the company, and you’ve got spirit. Most Clan cats just brush us aside like we’re dirt.”
“Who’s us?” Sunpaw asked, genuinely confused. Scram was pressing in on her again, but this time she sat still, not wanting to be any closer to Twolegplace than she already was.
Suddenly, Scram stiffened. His ears pricked forward, eyes alert, muscled tense. He slowly opened his mouth to let the air come into his scent glands. Sunpaw opened hers too, but smelled only the strange scent of her surroundings.
“I have to leave now,” Scram meowed, almost sadly, staring straight over Sunpaw’s head.
“Wha-Wait! What’s going on?” Sunpaw protested, but Scram was gone, “Where am I?!” Hissing, she cuffed the dirt. She was back in the same position, every part of her screaming with pain, only slightly less lost, and more confused than ever. She even missed Scram’s company, she had started to warm up to him. He may have been mangy and disgusting, but he had helped her.
Sighing, she surveyed her surroundings again. She was next to the Twoleg tree things, and she studied them more closely. They ran in a long line, some going straight up like growing trees, some running sideways or suspended in the air. “Weird,” she muttered, and tentatively reached out a paw.
The thing didn’t bite her, so she decided it was like a tree. Safe to climb. With that, she leaped up onto one of the sideways trees and then scrambled up to the top. Tail lashing furiously for balance, she placed her hind leg firmly behind her. Slightly pleased with her success, she looked out at the Twoleg territory.
Across the field from her was a single Twoleg nest, and a flat expanse of dirt where monsters were supposedly sleeping. She narrowed her eyes, feeling nervous.
She had to dig her claws into the tree when shouts of Twolegs reached her ears. She looked around, spotted them returning from the Twoleg footpath, and tried to shrink into the tree. If she jumped down, they would see her. So she remained still.
One of the Twoleg kits began yelping excitedly, pointing at Sunpaw. She hissed, though they were too far away to hear her. She unhitched her claws and was about to climb down when a rock flew past her, maybe a whisker away. Shaking, Sunpaw looked over at the Twoleg kits again, they were throwing things at her.
She positioned her legs to jump off, but had to regain balance for a moment when her back leg faltered. The moment was too long, and a rock struck her in the side. Yowling, she struggled to regain her balance, but her back leg slipped. The fall ripped her claws from the post violently and she hit the fence as she tumbled downward.
Barely conscious, she felt the bruises, the reopened wounds, the numerous scratches, and wished she would just die. Gasping for air, she dragged herself toward a small, concealed spot beneath a bush. Shaking with exhaustion, she collapsed.
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