[Fawn]

What doesn't kill me had better start running.

She had not laid eyes on her brother in over four sunrises. Hunger and exhaustion had become the kit's new littermates, and she was doing all she could to keep going.

"SNAKE!" shouted the calico, dry throat putting a croak in her voice. Irritation flared across dull yellow eyes, but the energy required to redouble her efforts just wouldn't come.

Stupid trees. Stupid woods. STUPID FROGS. SHUT UP FROGS! Ugh, she hated this place. It smelled like an old cat with bad gas, and the ground under paw was soft, damp and fetid.

As if in defense from her insults, a root seemingly out of nowhere tangled up one of her hind legs — sending the kitten stumbling sideways with a shocked hiss.

"HEY!" Snapping at nothing, Scrap sat and twisted, trying to get a good look at her leg. It hurt a little, but nothing she couldn't handle.

Something made a strange call. Scrap's ears flattened, staring around the unknown forest with her entire body tensed. Claws unsheathed, the fur along her spine prickling. W-who's there? I'll claw your ears off! She would. There came no answer, and Scrap (not for the first time) felt as if the whole world were staring back at her, waiting for her next move. Hunting. That was her next move. She couldn't find Snake on an empty belly, and desperation had sharpened her senses; the kitten's large splotched ears pricked, trying to distinguish the different calls.

Stupid birds. They were so noisy, after a rainstorm. Scrap shuddered, recalling the thunder and lightning that had waged war in the skies just the other day. Plodding on doggedly, the skinny scrap of calico fur waded deeper into NightClan's forests. Finally, the faint skitter of tiny claws over roots filled her ears. Scrap's heart flew into a frenzy, and her mouth watered, yellow eyes taking on a starved intensity. Silent as death, the she-cat crept towards the sound - ignoring everything else - and found a mouse nibbling a walnut.

You're mine! Scrap's legs shook from the effort to sustain a crouch, but she mustered her last bit of strength to fling herself upon her prey. The mouse succumbed to the kitten's messy bites and frantic claws, tufts of fur clinging to her paws from her overzealous attack. That wasn't the only thing clinging to her paws, however. "Ugh, gross!" Scrap tried to scrape the mouse droppings off her back foot onto the tree roots - her face set in absolute revulsion. With a growling stomach, Scrap hurried away to a nearby puddle left over from the rainstorm and tried to rinse off the dung.

In her absence, a tall brown-furred stranger with the face of a rat and a thin tail to match, had discovered the forgotten prey.

With soggy steps, Scrap hurried back —and hissed in surprise to find a fully grown, awkward-looking cat bent over the mouse as if to claim it for himself. Scrap bristled, furious tears putting a gleam in her eyes, her claws unsheathed. "That's MINE! Give me back my mouse you stupid piece of frogdung!" Scrap hurled herself upon the thief, hissing and spitting and trying to sink tiny claws and teeth into anything within reach.

3 Moons | Kit | Loner

ScraP

Made by Fawn
Tags: Phoenix @zen
Word Count: 520 Words
Notes: Scrap has entered the fray~

[Phoenix]

For StarClan’s sake, did rank mean nothing anymore? Just because Blackwolf had survived the same mudslide as himself and was still a warrior did not give the older tom the right to drag Ratfur out of the elder’s den as if it was still his duty to provide for the clan. He had retired! Dimstar had spoken the magic words, so the skinny brown tom had retreated to the far less crowded elder’s den, fully prepared to relish the peace and quiet. And he had – for a short time, until the large black warrior and his lazy spawn either remembered that he existed (which was unfortunate) or apparently decided that he looked like he was enjoying himself a little too much (if he could trust the latter feline on any matter, it was that he would take any opportunity to make the elder’s life miserable, if only out of sheer spite).

Between the two of them, Ratfur had probably spent more time outside of camp than in it, let alone laying around in his nest, and he was not happy about it at all. Surely the two didn’t believe that his promotion in rank led to a similar improvement in skill? He was no better at hunting than he had been six moons ago, and six moons was probably about the age at which his ability to not catch prey had far surpassed his stagnating talent at catching prey. Tail lashing, the elder stalked through the perpetually blackened trunks of the forest, ducking under a fallen branch as he irritably batted some dangling twigs out of his face. Why had Blackwolf decided to hunt here anyway? The only things here were dead trees and mud puddles and—oh?

A rather mutilated mouse caught his attention, and the skinny tom cast a cursory glance around before moving forward. Prey was prey; he had no qualms about scavenging from some bird’s failed hunting attempt. However, he had just lowered his head to carry his prize back to camp – any chance he could convince his hunting partner that he had caught it himself? – when a flurry of unsheathed claws launched themselves directly at his face. Instinctively, the elder jerked back with flattened ears and bristling fur, jaws clenched around the rodent’s broken form, and as he registered the pain of numerous scratches, he looked down only to see a tiny kitten attacking his chest with everything it had. Once his hearing returned (her initial cries had practically deafened him), he realized that the high-pitched screeching was actually in protest of his commandeering of the mouse. His lip curled, and he rose to his full height, taking a paw and aiming to bat the small nuisance off balance and away – if all went well, then his paw would then land on her tail, successfully keeping her away from him.

Lightly, he tossed the mouse down out of her reach before turning back to her. ”Your mouse?” He asked, curt. The brown tom made a show of inspecting the battered piece of prey, nosing it over as if looking for some sort of label. ”I don’t see your name anywhere on it.”

Fawn

[Fawn]

What doesn't kill me had better start running.

Scrap's screeches of indignation were cut off as she was knocked to the wayside; the calico kitten tumbled into an irritated heap - made even more furious when she felt a paw clamp down on her tail. Then the big ugly rat-face had the nerve to say it wasn't her mouse. Scrap hissed, and, twisting, retaliated by aiming a sharp bite right on the old tom's paw. "It's mine! Are you stupid or something? I caught it, and you didn't! That makes it mine!" Her heart was hammering in her ears, she could practically feel the pulsing beats in her paw. Full of spit and fire, Scrap was about to let him have another taste of her claws when another figure materialized out of the forest.

This one had a limp, but still looked much more formidable than the skinny brown tom. He had jet black fur and two different colored eyes; his expression was a very obvious sneer. "What's going on? Another kit?"

Another kit? Scrap's mouth fell open. "Did you find my brother too? His name is Snake! If you did—you have to tell me!" Scrap swallowed a burning sensation in her throat, and marched right up to the dark-furred, funny-smelling cat. "I'll fight you too if you don't, deadleg!"

To her astonishment, the black warrior laughed. It wasn't warm and friendly. It was mocking. It was cold.

"I don't have to tell trespassers anything, scrap. Get lost." Those two-toned eyes narrowed into cold slits, and Scrap's fur fluffed up again. She hated the way he said her name - as if she were a piece of crowfood or something.

"I said TELL me!" She squeaked, and took a swipe at the jerk's nose.

Blackwolf pulled his head back with no effort.
"Grab the mouse, Ratfur. If she's so fierce, she can catch another one —out of our territory."

Scrap's heart dropped. They're chasing me out? But— In a last-ditch effort to prevent these stupid toms from getting the better of her, the kitten planted her rump in the ground and dug her claws in. "I'm not leaving. You can't make me." Exhaustion made her frame shake, but she took turns glaring at each cat in turn.

Ferns rustled nearby. Blackwolf looked over to see a silvery she-cat (much younger than the both of them) bring up the last of their patrol.

"Another kit?" She mewed. "We'd better bring her with us. Pinestar will know what to do with her."

Pinestar? Why did they talk about her like she wasn't right here?

Blackwolf snorted. "Do what you want, Willowpelt. That loudmouthed little idiot scared away all the prey."

The dying embers of Scrap's temper flared. "I'm not an idiot, crowbreath!"

Then the she-cat called Willowpelt was beside her, nudging her to her paws. "Hush, little one. We're taking you back to NightClan. There will be food and water once we get there."

F-Food? And water? Scrap closed her mouth, and begrudgingly let the she-cat get her to her feet. Willowpelt laid her fluffy tail over Scrap's back, and Scrap let out a disgruntled hiss but didn't move. She felt like she might fall over at any second.

Stupid toms... It's their fault. Their fault she'd lost her mouse. Their fault she couldn't find her brother. Their fault... not hers. Theirs.

Anyone's but hers.

3 Moons | Kit | Loner

ScraP

Phoenix @jet - 533 Words

[Phoenix]

In hindsight, he probably should have expected the sharp bite that had landed right on his paw, but distracted as he was by the mouse, he had been unprepared for her retaliation. With a sharp hiss, he reflexively lifted his paw from her tail before he could think better of it, and when the motion finally caught up to his brain, he shifted the movement slightly to none-too-gently hit her side again as he stepped back. Irritating little brat. He should just take the mouse and leave; it wasn’t like she would be able to keep up with his longer strides anyway. Narrowed green eyes peered at her one moment longer as he entirely dismissed her words in the condescending manner that he suspected would bother her more than any snide remark he could offer before he turned away, lowering his head to pick up the rodent in question. Fully intending to return to camp and lose the little pest on the way, he set off with a flick of his tail - only to nearly walk right into a large black tom who had materialized from the shadows.

“What’s going on? Another kit?”

Stepping to the side, Ratfur gestured in the little beast’s direction, letting her presence explain itself. As the scrap of fur stepped forward and challenged Blackwolf as if she stood any chance of beating him, he very nearly rolled his eyes upward, though whether he was asking StarClan for more patience or to make the fight happen, he had yet to decide. The elder set the mouse down at his paws. ”Perhaps he was eaten by a snake,” He muttered under his breath, even as he pictured the strange little red-eyed kit back at camp. It was with some amusement that he watched the other tom easily dodge her inexperienced swipe. As Blackwolf’s next direction, he obediently picked up the piece of prey again and prepared to leave, meeting her fierce glare with one of his own.

And then Willowpelt appeared and insisted that they bring her with them back to camp, and then he really did roll his eyes. What, were they becoming an orphanage for abandoned kits? Honestly, they had more than enough of their own cats - especially their elders - to worry about feeding without taking on other ones. Particularly little she-cats who had no idea how small they really were. Ratfur exchanged an unimpressed look with Blackwolf over the younger warrior’s behavior, and returning from a hunting patrol (debatably) successful for the first time in a long time, he began to make his way back to camp.

Fawn

[Deleted]

We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.

It had been a peaceful day so far, but hot. Pinestar had been hunting all morning, and although there was shade galore in Nightclan, humidity beneath the canopies was at an all time high. The heat was choking, like breathing in sweltering steam from hot springs. She much preferred nighttime to greenleaf's warm, swamping, midday atmosphere, though the ginger she-cat couldn't complain, not in front of the clanmates who accompanied her on the sunhigh patrol.

Dawn hunting was cool and comfortable; it was amazing how quickly the tides had changed. One step after another, Pinestar continued towards the Black Woods border Nightclan shared with uncharted territory. When they reached the border, Blackwolf, Willowpelt, Jaystep, and Pinestar followed Pipitwing on the patrol. It will be good for her to get some more experience leading patrols. Though not but minutes patrolling brought them to a scent trail crossing the border.

"Pinestar-" Pipitwing started, urgency and confusion evident in her tone.

"I know," Pinestar meowed, slipping past her clanmates to inspect. The faint scent of a mother's milk, and the small paw-prints made it quite obvious who the trespasser was; another kit. Pinestar glanced back towards Blackwolf and Willowpelt. "You two, follow the trail. Pipitwing, go with them and report back to me." With that, Pinestar and Jaystep crossed the border into unknown land in an effort to trace back where the kit came from, though the trail soon ended. Another well-timed rain had completely erased the kitten's trail, and Pinestar couldn't help feeling her tail twitch in agitation. Pipitwing won't be long. We should head back. Pinestar thought. How far can a kit travel since the dawn patrol?

Pinestar and Jaystep returned to the border in perfect timing. The two cats heard Pipitwing running up through the foliage.

"Ratfur found the kit before us." The ginger warrior began. "The kit was asking about Snake. She says she's Snake's sister. I left before I heard anything more."

So there is for sure another live kit. Pinestar mused. "Let's go. I was sure this kit would have been eaten by now, but she's proven herself one way or another. The Black Woods is one of the most open and barren spots in Nightclan. It's amazing that she hadn't already been carried off by a hawk." Pinestar's voice was hardly soft. Instead, she spoke matter-of-factly, doing well to hide her irritation. Another kit slipped across the border? Another untimely rain washed away her trail? What in Starclan's name is going on with these kits? Why are they here? Questions rampaged Pinestar's mind. Pipitwing led them back to the gathering of cats. Pinestar approached, noticing Willowpelt's tail resting on a bedraggled, calico kitten. Blackwolf seemed irritated, and Ratfur slipped away, heading back to camp with a mouse in his mouth.

Pinestar stared at the she-kit with an unwavering, green gaze, a look as gelid and icy as winter's coldest wind.

I hope this works. She prayed silently.

"Stop." Pinestar growled abrasively, cutting Willowpelt off and pushing her to the side. Pinestar's hackles rose, her pelt fluffed aggressively, making her already tall form more threatening. She began circling the kit. Not even her clanmates had seen her so intense and frightening; Pipitwing visibly shrunk back, and uneasiness flashed in Jaystep's eyes. Pinestar wouldn't attack a kit...right? The crimson leader's hostile form towered over the kit. The ginger she-cat's jaws were clenched. Pinestar's entire demeanor made it seem as though she was face to face with her father's murderer.

She wasn't going to welcome another stranger into camp. Not unless the kit was worth training as a Nightclan warrior, and the way she looked in the light of noon, she might eat as much as a working apprentice. Nightclan wasn't going to house a kit unless it was worth feeding.

Pinestar stopped and faced the scrap of fur, livid.

"Now tell me, trespasser," The Nightclan leader's voice was a low, guttural hiss. "Why are you on Nightclan territory?"

51 Moons - Leader - NightClan

PIneStaR

Tags: Fawn Phoenix
Word Count: xxx
Notes: xxx

[Fawn]

What doesn't kill me had better start running.

No sooner had she begun to catch her breath, to slowly view this strange group of cats as a means to get what she wanted, when Scrap was thrown back into the fire. That fire appeared in the form of a towering dark ginger she-cat with green eyes that pierced Scrap to the bone; Scrap shrank back, shock and fear creating an obvious scent cloud around her as the NightClan leader bore down on her.

"Now tell me, trespasser, why are you on Nightclan territory?" The words were spat with such malice, Scrap flinched back as if stung. What? Scrap trembled under the weight of Pinestar's accusation and stare (obviously this was Pinestar, the other cats were looking at her as if she decided who lived and who died), feeling her head and stomach try to switch places.

I can run. I can run. I can climb a tree and get away. I can-- Scrap's dull yellow eyes narrowed, and she suppressed a screech of frustration, fear making it impossible for her to keep still. Whenever she was frightened, or uncertain, or simply tired, the fiesty she-kitten had learned to rely on two things; her own two paws, and her voice.

And her paws didn't want to carry her any further.
"I'm lo-looking for my brother, Snake. He's lost, and I have to find him." I have to. A fluffed tail twitched and swept from side to side, Scrap uncomfortably tracking the red leader's movements as she was circled like prey. Could she outrun them all? No. She could already picture Pinestar's claws ripping her into tufts of fur to line her nest with. These cats were vicious.

Wild.

Scrap's heart shivered. I hope they didn't find Snake after all. What if they killed him? Fury and the sharp agony of loss cut into the kitten, and Scrap finally let out a hiss, squeezing her eyes shut. "He's not dead," a stubborn mantra from a stubborn kit. "I'm going to find him and you can't stop me!" Mustering every ounce of emotional strength she had left, Scrap raised her muzzle in defiance, forcing herself to meet the hostile gaze of Pinestar.

She was strong. She could do this. She could find him.

And then Blackwolf snorted; she hurled a nasty look at the limping tom, wishing he'd fall into a hole and die already. Some of her confidence waned, fatigue setting in. Scrap didn't dare say please. Didn't dare ask for help. The silver she-cat had been nice to her, but that didn't mean anything. She might as well have been surrounded by badgers.

3 Moons | Kit | Loner

ScraP

@jet @zen 429 Words Notes: xD Pinestar's gonna eat herrr.

[Deleted]

We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.

"I'm looking for my brother Snake-"

Pinestar stopped listening, her eyes flashing with triumph. Nightclan had something she wanted, and the ginger she-cat had every intention of using that to her advantage. The ferocious figurehead saw everything, noting how the kit bowed dangerously like a branch under initial pressure, until the she-kit snapped. The kitten's posture changed from the frightened, stutter-stepping form of a coward, to a creature come to terms with fate. There was no running. There was no talking her way out of this. She had her chances with the others.

Ratfur's and Blackwolf's unimpressed glaze told her all she needed to know. Pinestar charged dangerously towards the kitten, stopping whiskers away from her face. The leader's aggression was electrifying to almost everyone in the clearing.

"You don't get it, do you?" Pinestar breathed, her savage words laced with murderous laughter. "The question isn't whether or not you can find him,"  Her tail snapped back and forth like a sapling in a storm. The calico's truculence was offensive. The crimson she-cat's form towered threateningly over the youth, and she honed a glare no less menacing than that of a starving fox. She wanted to teach this kit a lesson in matter of respect more than anything else. She wanted to sink her claws into her unruly pelt...

Words began dripping from Pinestar's tongue like poisoned honey, hardly more than a whisper, with more ferociousness than the dominating growl of an alpha wolf. "The question is whether or not you can get through me first."

But she wouldn't hurt the kit. Not yet. This scrap was going to have to do something that proved her worth to Nightclan. At a minimum, she was going to have to earn tonight's meal. Pinestar had no intention of being titled a kit-killer. She wasn't that kind of low-life, but she wasn't hesitating to test her trespassers, fiercely to say the least. Pinestar wasn't going to treat intruding kits any differently than full grown interlopers.

Well...

If it came down to a fight, surely she'd keep her claws sheathed...?

The intensity between Pinestar and the rebel kit was nearly palpable, and silence reigned the clearing as onlookers absorbed the scene before them, scorching sunlight making the heated situation almost unbearable. Surely every cat looked, curious of the outcome, though they all had their own reasons. Some peered anxiously. Some glared edgily. Some watched eagerly.

51 Moons - Leader - NightClan

PIneStaR

Tags: Fawn Phoenix
Word Count: xxx
Notes: xxx

[Fawn]

What doesn't kill me had better start running.

Scrap gulped. This cat's as crazy as a fox! Pinestar wanted to fight. Scrap wasn't so clueless and so exhausted that she wasn't able to see what was happening right in front of her; the red menace was provoking her. Standing between her and her brother. Scrap bristled further, and took a half-step back to get her bearings.

These stupid wildcats. The unfairness of the world was starting to cut Scrap to the bone; her teeth gnashed. Never trust she-cats. She didn't know if Pinestar had kits of her own, but that didn't matter. A warrioress was only interested in herself; all that talk of 'a mother's love' was just a load of toad droppings. Females could be just as mean, just as aggressive as males.

If the circumstances had been different, Scrap would have wondered what her father had been like. If he even knew she existed. If he even cared. If he would just abandon her and Snake like Scratch had, without so much as a second thought. Vision hazy with exhaustion and mind clouded with hunger, Scrap stared at Pinestar intensely, tail lashing - until there was no difference between the she-cat that had left them behind and the matriarch standing in front of her.

You traitor! You left Snake to die! You left ME to die! What kind of a mother are you?

With a yowl that was half battle cry, half wail of despair, the kitten flung herself at Pinestar, claws unsheathed as she hissed and spit and tried to scratch any inch of the Clan cat that she could reach. Her movements were fast to begin with, and she thought she had the element of surprise - but hunger made her clumsy. It wasn't long before Scrap was panting, flanks heaving as she tried to gulp in air like a fish out of water, but Scrap didn't stop trying.

"I want... my... brother..." Colors were beginning to blur before her eyes. The kitten felt them all watching her. Staring. Mocking. Sneering at the stupid little kit that had been foolish enough to wander into their territory. I'll show you. I'll show you all! Scrap's spirit burned bright, but her body was burned out, and each step she took was unsteady.

3 Moons | Kit | Loner

ScraP

@jet 357 Words Notes: xD She's about ready to collapse. Feel free to bring her back to camp in your post, or even wrap it up~