Username: TheSongOfTheStars
Cat Name: Whisperstorm
Gender: female
Rank: warrior
Age: 8 moons
Clan: Songclan Prompt:1,362 words
The structure was far beyond any limit the kit was supposed to wander: out of the nursery, past the camp boundaries, beneath the clawing bare fingers of the dead oak tree, and over the stream via the fallen log covered in moss.
But Whisperkit felt not an ounce of guilt as she stared up at the strange sqaure mountain in front of her. Kits like her didn't come with guilt built in, life hammers i into them through painful experiance.
The same goes for fear and Whisperkit felt none of that either as she went tripping over her own velvet paws up the front steps. The cut wood was strange under her feet, but not bad and when she reached the porch she set about exploring the wide flat area.
It wasn't long before she noticed an odd creaking sound and after tracking it to the sound, she was driven wild with curiousity with the strange bow shaped object that rocked back and forth gently. WHAT WAS IT.
"Hello little stranger," a soft, aged voice rumbled from the other side of the rocking wood "Where's your mother?"
Whisperkit toddled over to the voice and found an old black Labrador, her muzzle sprinkled with white. The dog smiled at her, limp ears perked slightly.
"Mother's back in the woods," Whiskerkit replied honestly "I came here all by myself."
"Long journey for one so small, I hope you're planning to stay a bit and keep an old dog company."
"Well of course," Whisperkit agreed and sat down. She spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with the dog, who's name she learned, was Millie.
Sometime, when the light was beginning to fade the creaking beside them stopped and Whisperkit felt something run along her back. She tensed.
"Don't scratch my human please, dear," Millie said quickly "She won't hurt you and its been ever so long since we've had a cat and she does so miss that old calico."
Whisperkit didn't scratch and actually the human's touch wasn't so bad.
"You should probably be getting home, kitten," Millie said, after her human rose from the rocking chair with a heavy sigh. Whisperkit couldn't argue.
----
She got in so much trouble. With everyone. From the way her mother talked it sounded like the cats of the dark forest were going to eat her for her misdeeds.
Naturally Whisperkit ran off again as soon as possible. And again and again. There were a whole pack of kits running around camp and Whisperlight was just too small to keep track of.
One time she came slipping up to the rickety house early in the morning and Millie and her person weren't on the porch. Undeterred, Whisperkit scaled the wall and slipped through the kitchen window, joing the two old-timers for breakfast. Millie's woman even opened a can of tuna for the wayward kit and let her gorge herself.
----
Everyone thought; everyone hoped Whisperkit's escapades would end when she became Whisperpaw. But between her finely honed escaping skills and a rather absentminded mentor, she still managed to slip away much more often than anyone would have liked.
"It's like they think all the world is just our patch of woodlands," Whisperpaw complained one day as she lay curled on Millie's back, the two of them enjoying the late spring sun "I mean it's not like I want to run off an join another clan or something!"
"Well dear, you are young, they just want to make sure you're safe," Millie chuckled "I was the same way when I was your age."
"Tell me?" Whisperpaw pleaded, she loved hearing tales of the dog's early life. But Millie only let out a soft snore in response.
She been doing that more and more often, drifting off during conversations. Whisperpaw sighed and pressed her forehead lovingly against the old dog's shoulders.
After a moment Millie awoke with a start.
"Whisperpaw?"
"Yeah Mil?"
"I'm an old dog, you know that."
"Aww," Whisperpaw laughed "I love you anyway."
Millie laughed too, but she turned her head and regarded the young cat with a sas glint in her eye "Whisperpaw dear, I know you're quite busy, but I was hoping that you could come visit me again next week."
"Of course I can," Whisperpaw squinted "I'm busy the next few days, but on the fourth sun from now, I'll be back. Sound good?"
"Promise me?" Millie pressed "Dear, this might sound silly, but this is desperatly important to me? Not a day later."
"Promise," Whisperpaw purred "That good?"
"Yes," Millie laid her head down with a sigh.
----
The fourth day rose without sun. The sky lashed the earth with a fury and Whisperpaw didn't blink. She was soaked to the bone and more stubborn than was good for her. She made it as far as the log before disaster struck.
The river was flowing fast and high and the log was slick with rain water. Whisperpaw struck out with far too much confidence. And slipped.
She caught herself last second, digging her claws into the moss, but couldn't recover, her body half submerged in the wicked current.
She dangled for hours, every second the river threatening to tear her grip and submerge her.
Rescue came in a brown flash and Whisperpaw almost fainted in relief as she recognized her older brother.
He inched out across the log and got his teeth into the nape of her neck and slowly, oh so slowly, pulled her back across the log. Everything after that was a blur.
----
Whisperpaw woke up with a sneeze and blinked in confusion at her surroundings for a moment.
"She's awake."
Whisperpaw turned her head towards the goice and recognized the clan's healer, then realized with a jolt that she was in their den, herbs draped around her neck.
A shadow filled the den's entrance and she found herself looking up into her leader's dark eyes.
"This has to stop," he growled, launching into that familliar spiel. Whisperpaw tuned him out, looking instead over his shoulder at the sunshine bathed forest outside.
"How long have I been asleep?" She intterupted, standing up.
Her leader looked annoyed but replied nontheless "Nearly three days, you young fool."
Whisperpaw's heart dropped to her feet and before anyone could stop her she was running. Out of the den, past the camp boundaries, beneath the clawing bare fingers of the dead oak tree. She didn't even look at the log when she came to the stream, but instead gathered up the strength in her back legs and went flying over the swollen stream.
She was breathless when she came up to the cabin, her heart hammering and her blood roaring inbetween her ears.
The old woman was rocking on the porch, but Millie was not with her.
An ill sensation crept through Whisperpaw's bones as she scouted around the house, looking for the old dog. She even wormed her way through one of the windows and searched inside.
Finally she gave up and went rubbing against the woman's ankles, asking loudly where Millie had gone, even though she knew the human couldn't understand her.
The old woman sighed and leaned down to stroke Whisperpaw between her ears.
"Oh, you poor wee thing, you're looking for her, aren't you?"
Whisperpaw perked her ears up.
"Millie was such a good dog, but she was old, oh, you don't understand little kitty," the woman leaned back in her chair, wiping a tear from her eye "Oh she was old. It was for the best. I'll miss her though."
A jolt like lightening ran through Whisperpaw and she stared up at the woman, shaking.
The woman didn't look back, she stared at a patch at the edge of the front lawn where the grass had been overturned and a stone had been set.
The nerves, the fear, settled into somethint cold and hard at the bottom of Whisperpaw's stomach.
She didn't want to, but she did it anyway, and went slowly gliding over to the bare patch of earth. Some part of her just knew, as she curled up on the sun soaked stone and the tears slipped out into her fur.
