Wildcat

by Rebecca Hutto

  Lupine snorted again. “Jade herself d-d-declared war on us. Hoping nothing will happen at this point is w-wishful thinking. Keep your paws on the ground, old tom.”

  “Sir, you’ve missed my point,” Redwater said. “What if that rogue acted on her own? She had no previous connections with Jade, but if she attacked on her own accord, why would she do what she did? What was her motivation? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yet, her working w-with Jade to lure us into a trap does. Let’s move on to s-some . . . something more important.”

  “But this might be important.”

  The argument continued deeper into the night. Occasionally another council member would pitch in their thoughts, but most of them, including Cloud, remained silent and annoyed. Then the cat sitting beside Cloud walked over to Redwater and spat, “It’s not important. Nobody cares. Let’s get back to the actual meeting.”

  Redwater jumped into a stand. His challenger ran his claws down his ruddy muzzle.

  “You just made a mistake,” Redwater growled, torn nose dripping with blood.

  “I made a mistake? You lunged at me! I was defending myself,” his challenger replied.

  “Alright, that’s enough!” Lupine growled. “M-meeting dismissed. You can all go to your dens. I . . . I need some rest. Whitehaze, c-could I speak with you in private?”

  Whitehaze lowered his head. “Yes, Commander Lupine. I don’t know what I can help you with, but I’ll try my best.”

  ‘Well, that’s a lot of time I’ll never get back. I wonder how long it’ll take for Lupine to replace me with Whitehaze. He certainly trusts him more. Maybe I’d be better off no longer being chief advisor. It would make it easier to break away. Still need to talk it over with Song, but that’s for later.’

  A slight rustle hit his ears as he passed the northern entrance. Somewhere beyond the Glade, someone coughed.

  ‘That sounds a lot more like choking than trying to get rid of a furball.’

  He walked out of the Glade to investigate. Hyrees sat by a tree a few leaps away, hunched over and gagging himself with a forepaw. Cloud opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, but before he could, Hyrees retched, and coughed out what remained of his meal. As Hyrees got to his feet, Cloud scampered back to the Glade to wait for him. Hyrees walked past, sides heaving and gaze fixed on the ground.

  “Furball?” Cloud asked.

  Hyrees jerked back. “C-Cloud! I didn’t realize the meeting was over. Uhm, yeah. Yeah, those . . . those furballs are something else.”

  “You know, I never did tell you how proud I was of you for eating earlier today. I’m sure Ember would want you to keep going.”

  His entire face drooped. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure she would. But you know, when she does come back, she’s going to be so proud of me. I almost look like a normal cat. Who knows? I might even edge into handsome soon.”

  “Oh, so that’s what this is about?” Cloud asked. “In that case, you can go back to eating meals. You’re not fat. Not anymore.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Cloud. I can take the truth,” Hyrees replied.

  Cloud grimaced. Anger flared in his chest as he stepped closer. “You want the truth? Ember is gone, and she isn’t coming back. Stop trying to impress her.”

  Hyrees backed away. “But you said—”

  “I know what I said, okay?” he growled. “But the truth is, she was almost dead when I found her. It was kittenish hope that caused me to lie to myself, and to lie to you. I suggest you try your best to move on, because there are more important things to deal with right now. This colony is at war, and we need everyone to do their part to keep the rest of us alive.”

  Hyrees stumbled backward. “They’re dead, and you don’t care, do you? You never cared! You never cared about me, or anyone else, have you?”

  Cloud curled back his lips. “Hyrees, that’s not what I said. They’re gone, and it hurts—it hurts me more than anything I’ve ever felt before, but all those cats we lost are gone. Crying over them isn’t going to help those of us who are still living. That’s not to say we should forget them, but there comes a point when you have to move on. You have to grow up and let go of them.”

  “You can patrol without me tomorrow,” Hyrees growled.

  He scampered away, then disappeared into his den. Cloud sighed and entered the cramped hole he called his own; though in reality, the den belonged to the colony, just like everything else.

  ‘Was that the wrong thing to say? I think I may have just made a mistake. Well, I guess there’s no going back now. I hope Farlight can continue getting him to eat. For his sake.’

  He lay down beside Songbird, with Kivyress kept warm between them. Neither cat stirred. Cloud rested his chin against the frigid dirt ground.

  ‘Then again, what if he’s right? Is it heartlessness or strength, being the first one in the colony to move on? I don’t know. But logic is much more trustworthy than emotions. If it’s heartless to push them away, call me heartless.’

  ———

  As promised, Hyrees didn’t show up to patrol. Cloud considered recruiting a clayworker to be his partner but decided against it. He needed a fresh cat to help him construct the armor prototype. He could patrol alone.

  After getting a quick, light meal, and saying goodbye to Songbird and Kivyress, he left. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized Farlight had wandered off too, but he ignored the thought and tried to focus on his surroundings. By sunset, he’d chased away two outsiders and fought with a feisty rogue—three times more cats than any normal day.

  As the sun set behind him, he limped his way back to the Glade. The gash on his left foreleg left a trail of red in the snow. He clenched his jaw as the taste of blood faded from his tongue.

  ‘I wonder how long it’ll take a coyote or fox to drag away the body. They aren’t as common as they used to be,’ he thought.

  In the fight, the rogue had attempted to kill him. He’d responded with a bite to the throat. Cloud sighed. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a life for the safety of his colony, and if he survived the winter, it wouldn’t be the last.

  When he neared the Glade, a familiar yowl met him. He broke into a run. A few leaps outside the abatis, a young tom named Rowan had Hyrees pinned. Several other youths watched, amused by Hyrees’s helpless struggles.

  “Come on, half-breed,” Rowan said with an exaggerated Eastern accent. “Fight me! You aren’t a molly, are you? Come on, and fight like a tom! The colony’s at war. You’re not gonna fight in it, coward?”

  “Get off of me,” Hyrees growled.

  He ran his claws down Rowan’s leg. Rowan flinched but didn’t move.

  Before Cloud could reach them, Farlight charged out of the Glade and shoved his brother’s attacker to the ground. He placed his claws against the larger tom’s throat.

  “I’m a half-breed too, Rowan,” Farlight growled. “Why aren’t you assaulting me?”

  “F-Farlight—no, that wasn’t what it looked like,” Rowan stammered. “I just—”

  “I don’t care what it looked like, Rowan. You hurt my brother. All of you, really.” The youths around them winced as Farlight eyed each one in turn. He released Rowan and went to help his brother up.

  With Hyrees no longer in immediate danger, Cloud slowed to a walk; his legs still ached from the patrol.

  “Hey!” he snapped as he neared the group. “Don’t any of you have anything better to do?”

  He pushed through the gathering of spectators, most of whom scattered when they realized who he was.

  Rowan rolled to his feet and lowered his head. “Sorry, sir. We were just practicing. I was, uh, trying to help him get stronger.”

  Farlight’s eyes narrowed at his weak defense.

  Cloud curled back a lip, revealing one of his fangs. “It only counts as practice if both participants are willing. Rowan, he’s lost almost everything.” He raised his voice, hoping most of the former onlookers would hear. “How do you have the insolence to att
ack him like that? You’re a disgrace to your parents and your colony. This is a time of war. You should be building up your fellow colonymates, not ripping them apart like a bear. If you keep up this kind of kittenish behavior, I can only imagine one possible future for you, and I’m afraid it’s not a good one. Now go back into the Glade and make yourself useful for a change. I expect to see some self-improvement within the coming mooncycle.”

  Rowan lowered his head and tried to make himself look as small as possible. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  “Don’t apologize to him. Apologize to my brother. He’s the one you hurt,” Farlight growled.

  “Sorry, Hyrees. Guess I wasn’t really thinking about what I was doing,” he said, voice void of emotion.

  He scampered into the Glade, tail tucked between his legs. Cloud snorted as he watched him run, then turned to face Hyrees, who sat in silence while Farlight groomed his bleeding muzzle.

  “Are you okay?” Cloud asked.

  “I’m fine. So why did you stand up for me this time? Need me for something? I know you didn’t do it out of the kindness of your heart,” Hyrees said, leaning closer to his brother’s side.

  Cloud hesitated, wondering if it would be a good time to ask him about helping with the guard pieces.

  “Who am I trying to fool? Of course you do,” Hyrees muttered.

  Cloud opened his mouth to protest but Hyrees cut him off. “Don’t say anything. I may not have good eyes, but I don’t need them to see that you just want to use me.”

  Cloud growled. “I saved you because it was the right thing to do. Whether or not I need your assistance had nothing to do with it. But that being said, if you would be willing to help me develop some protective pieces for the colony, it would be much appreciated, and may well save lives in the near future, but you don’t have to help. In fact, you can choose to never speak with me again. It doesn’t matter, because I will continue to care about you, and I will continue to protect you, whether you appreciate it, or are useful to me, or not. Because I love you, Hyrees. Whether you see me that way or not, we are family, and I will care for you like family.”

  “And now you’re trying to manipulate me. You’re just as bad as the all the other high-ranks.”

  Hyrees pushed past him and walked deeper into the Glade. Farlight got up and followed after him, giving Cloud a look somewhere between an apology and a rebuke.

  “Hyrees, wait,” Farlight called. “Maybe at least hear him out? He’s not exactly being tactful right now, no, but he does have a point.”

  Cloud flattened his ears and trotted after them. “Hold on, Hyrees, what can I do to prove myself?”

  “You can leave me alone,” Hyrees said. His unfocused gaze locked onto Cloud’s wound. It darted to Farlight, who waited at his side, then landed back on Cloud. He sighed. “Look, I’ll patrol with you tomorrow, but don’t try to talk to me unless it’s to point out some crazy wildcat is about to pounce. Okay?”

  “I can do that.” He nodded a polite ‘thank you’ to Farlight, who responded with a nod of his own.

  Hyrees sighed again and padded away toward his den. Farlight followed beside him, resting his head against his brother’s neck. Cloud watched them for a few moments, then continued farther into the Glade.

  All around him, cats returned from a long day of work. Only a few sunsets before, evening had been the most jovial time of day, but now, not a single Westerner smiled.

  As he neared a fire pit, Songbird ran up to him. “Cloud, what happened to you this time?”

  “Got into a fight. I’ll be fine,” he replied

  “You’re going to get it cleaned, right?”

  “No, I need to go find Fledge and get started with the protective pieces. I’ve only got until nightfall to work on it. I’m wasting daylight.”

  “You’re starting another project?” Songbird asked.

  He stepped toward the corner of the Glade where the clayworkers lived. Songbird blocked him.

  Cloud curled back his lips. “Yes, but it’s going to save lives. Song, this is too big to wait. It could help us win with next to no casualties. I just have to make it work.”

  Cloud tried to walk around her, but she pounced in front of him again. “You aren’t even going to eat?”

  “Food can wait. Please move.”

  “No, Cloud, this can wait. You can’t do everything. You’re hurting yourself almost as much as Hyrees is hurting himself.”

  He growled. “I can fix this—I can fix all of this—if you’d just let me, Songbird. Now move!”

  Songbird jumped back in surprise. Tears filled her eyes. She lowered her head and ran back to the den. Cloud’s heart sank.

  ‘I’m hurting her again, aren’t I?’

  “No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he yowled.

  He ran after her. A surprised Kivyress was already there. Her eyes were damp; she’d been crying.

  “Whoa, Mom, what’s wrong?” Kivyress asked.

  “Song, please, I’m sorry,” Cloud whispered.

  Kivyress lowered her head and loped out of the den. “I’m, uh, going for a walk. Be back by nightfall.”

  Songbird kept her back to him and didn’t reply. The dull, bluish purple of evening time added to the somber mood. The thick fog rolling in enhanced it.

  “I’m doing this for you, Song. Almost everything I do, I’m doing to keep you safe. To protect you and let us escape this place one day. You, and Kivyress, and Farlight, and Hyrees. Y’all are my family; the only family I’ve got. And I want y’all to be safe and happy,” Cloud said.

  “You don’t have to protect us,” Songbird said. “And we don’t have to leave, either. Just be there for us. That’s all we need. Or at least it’s all I want.”

  She got up, turned to face him, and pressed her nose against his. “Work on those protective pieces tomorrow. Today you’re getting your cut cleaned and eating your second meal.”

  He sighed, partly out of relief, and partly out of frustration. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She wiped away her tears with a forepaw. “I know you can take care of yourself, fluffhead. Don’t make me walk you over there.”

  “I know, I know,” he replied. “But please forgive me for snapping at you. It wasn’t right of me.”

  “I forgive you,” she said. Her tail twitched anxiously. “Come on, you know we’re stronger than that. I’m not going to abandon you, and you know it. But we have to listen to each other. Right now I’m telling you to go to my sister, and to let her fix you, so that means you have to go. After all, you’re no good to anyone lying in the healer’s den with an infection.”

  “Alright,” he said. “I’m going.”

  He licked Songbird’s cheek, then walked over to the healer’s den.

  ‘Please don’t be in, Mom,’ he thought.

  Fledge walked up beside him carrying a bowl of snow. She set the bowl down. “Oh, hey, Cloud. Tahg, that looks like a nasty bite. You’d better come in. Fern just sent me out to get snow. You know, just in case someone needed a little pain relief. Do you need any? Looks pretty painful to me.”

  “I’d prefer waiting to see what kind of treatment Fern wants to give before we get my leg wet.”

  “Ah, yes, of course.” Fledge picked up the bowl again. “Fawow me.”

  As they entered the den, Fern stopped sorting medicine and darted over to Cloud’s injured leg. Her expression never shifted from emotionless professionalism.

  “You just missed your mother,” she said as she pawed out leaves for a treatment paste. “Then again, I’m guessing that’s not a problem for you.”

  She used a stone to crush the leaves to powder, then removed it and used another stone to scrape honey off a hive one brave gatherer had acquired. She mixed it together with a half-burnt stick, then used the stick to spread the salve on his cut.

  “Try not to lick it off tonight. It’ll work its best when allowed to sit as a scab forms,” Fern said.

  “I won’t,” Cloud replied. “Thank you, Fern
. Have a good night. You too, Fledge.”

  He considered, for a moment, bringing up the concept of protective pieces to Fledge, but decided to wait. He’d promised Songbird he would eat, and explaining his experimental project properly could take half the night.

  “We will,” Fledge replied.

  Fern sighed. Fledge nuzzled her cheek as Cloud left the den.

  “Hey, we’ll get through this, okay?” she said.

  Fern didn’t reply. Or if she did, Cloud didn’t hear her. Songbird waited for him with a large lump of turkey meat in her mouth. She nodded toward the den, and he followed her there. She sat, set the piece at her paws, and smiled for a moment.

  She sighed and pushed it closer to him. “Here. I got our rations together. Remember? Like how we used to eat. No, that came out wrong. When we were kittens—well, not exactly kittens, but—”

  Cloud chuffed without smiling. “You used to think sharing was so romantic. Then we started sharing a den. I noticed that your urge to split food with me disappeared a few days after that.”

  Songbird chuckled halfheartedly. “That had to do with us having slightly different schedules, not me not wanting to share with you. Now come on, let’s eat.”

  He looked at her round, brown and white face. Her buttercup-yellow eyes glistened back at him like two fireflies in the dying light. The glow from the fire pits reflected in them and danced, making them shimmer even more.

  She bent down to eat, but stopped short and cocked her head. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just taking some time to appreciate how beautiful you are.”

  Songbird closed her eyes and shook her head. “Just eat, Cloud. I’ve already forgiven you.”

  Cloud’s ears drooped. ‘She thinks I’m still trying to apologise. What kind of a hole have I dug for myself? Does anyone trust me? How am I supposed to get anything done if no one will believe what I say is genuine?’