Wildcat

by Rebecca Hutto

  The snow picked up around them, muting the area into a deafening silence. Ember rolled under the barrier, free of Tainu’s grasp. Patches of fur tore from her skin. Tainu dove under behind her and lashed out again. Instead of jumping out of the way, Ember pounced at her. She sank her teeth into Tainu’s leg. The scream that followed rang louder and sharper than her ears.

  Her heart leaped into her throat. Her mouth filled with blood.

  “Tainu!” a distant voice called.

  Ember released her cousin’s leg. Blood pulsed out of the wound. Something grabbed her scruff. Before she could react, or even think, a bright light, like a midnight sun, flared in her face. Her side hit stone. Her legs hit metal. Her mind cleared just enough to think again.

  ‘Oh tahg, I’m about to die.’

  A split-second later, the light disappeared. A surge of pain took hold of her, then elapsed into nothingness.

  Before her vision faded out completely, her mind choked out one final thought: ‘Please . . . Please, someone, let me die.’

  Chapter 7

  Cloud

  Commander Aspen was dead, and fighting cats were everywhere. Cloud shoved a snarling Easterner off of Hyrees. He leaped over them both, then caught the attacker in a scruff-hold. There was no time to think about the guilt or pain. Not now, when lives were still on the line.

  “Get help,” he growled through clenched teeth.

  Hyrees stood up, eyes wide with terror. He stepped back, but didn’t move any farther. The fat reserves on his sides quivered. “S-sir, m-m-my dad and Ember—”

  “Will be dead if we don’t get backup soon. Go!”

  Hyrees sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, sir.” He turned and ran back into the forest.

  ‘And in Dark’s name, hurry.’ His gaze searched the fields. Grass blocked him from seeing more than a leap ahead. ‘Come on, Ember. Where are you? Why wouldn’t you listen to me? Please be okay.’

  The cat he’d been holding tore free, leaving fur stuck in his teeth. Cloud sunk into a fighting stance. The cat, a small brown tabby, did the same.

  He hesitated. ‘She’s a molly. A young one, too. How did you get here? I can’t help but wonder. Are you a mastermind too, or just the daughter of someone important?’

  “Why are you fighting us? I don’t understand. What did we do?” she asked. Her fur stood on end, making her appear bigger, but still not large.

  “Someone just murdered Commander Aspen.” He shoved aside the shock and sadness still tugging at his mind. “We followed the cat back here and got attacked. If none of you sent the assassin, why did your colony ambush us?”

  “But we didn’t do anything. We were sitting by the fire, talking, when you started attacking us,” she said.

  He pinned back his ears. Out the corner of his eye, lights flickered along the Wolf Trail. “You should choose your words carefully, young molly. Trying to shift the blame on us only makes you sound more like a liar. Now listen, you’re still a youth, so I’d feel bad about hurting you. How about you go back to—”

  An ear-piercing yowl filled the air. ‘Tainu?’ A sharp yelp followed. His eyes widened. ‘Ember?’

  Cloud charged past the molly, toward the source of the scream. The cat didn’t follow. ‘Come on, come on, come on, come on.’

  A sickening, crunching thud hit his ears. His heart skipped a beat. He shivered all over. “Ember!”

  As he tore free of the grass, a high-pitched noise sliced the air. On instinct, he stopped and sunk to the ground, paws over his ears. His eyes remained open and searching. Shard and Echo leaned over a body a few leaps away, both cats also covering their ears.

  ‘Blood, I smell blood. Come on, Ember, please be okay.’

  Ignoring the noise, he lunged forward. “Ember! Where is Ember?”

  “I-I-I,” Shard stuttered. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to, but she was . . . she was . . .”

  The sound faded. The ringing in his ears didn’t. Panic gripped his chest. “Where is she?” he demanded.

  “Come on, Tainu. Stay with me! Stay with me!” Echo yowled. She cradled Tainu’s head in her paws. “Stay with me, or I will bloody murder someone. Come on!”

  Tainu didn’t reply. She lifted a paw toward Echo’s face, then fell limp.

  “Tainu!” Echo screeched.

  Shard uncovered his ears. He was crying. “W-Wolf Trail,” he said.

  ‘Oh no.’

  He dove under the barrier, ignoring the stopped pod on the nearest rail. And there she was. Cloud didn’t have a weak stomach, but he threw up anyway. His daughter lay in a puddle of her own blood. Her legs were crushed against the indented metal strip, twisted at angles so unnatural they didn’t even look real.

  The rest of the world faded into nothingness. He took a single, shaky step forward.

  “Ember.”

  He wanted to call out to her, to see her get up and limp it off like she always did, but he knew she wouldn’t. Not this time. Something inside of him crumbled and fell away, vanishing into oblivion. It left behind a void nothing could ever refill.

  Her side moved. At first, he thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him. He stepped closer. Her rib cage shifted up and down in rhythm; slow and subtle, but there. She was still breathing, barely breathing, but breathing nonetheless.

  His chest tightened. The realization that she wasn’t quite gone hurt more than he’d expected. Even though she was alive, the best healers in the valley wouldn’t be able to keep her that way for more than a day. Yet, if he left her, it could take hours for her to pass. In that time she could regain consciousness and suffer every moment of it. She would fade slowly, like some common, senseless animal who had wandered onto the Trail at the wrong time. It would be a painful death without honor.

  ‘I have to do it.’ he thought. ‘For mercy’s sake, I have to kill her.’

  His heartbeat became the only unmuted sound he could hear. He couldn’t move. He was stuck in his tracks, transfixed on his daughter’s broken body. Movement caught the edge of his vision. He looked up. A slender-legged creature stood over Ember’s limp form; a bipedal thing with a flattened, mostly furless, misty-pale face. It crouched down to look at Ember, eyes wide.

  He stepped back, panting with fear. Everything inside of him screamed for him to run, but he didn’t. “Get away from her, you monster,” he spat.

  In that moment he hated humanity. He hated their machines. He hated their oh-so-able hands that only seemed capable of causing pain and destruction. He hated that they’d made him sentient, given him a soul, made him care. He hated that this particular human even existed.

  The human slid its upper appendages under Ember’s body and hefted her into the air.

  “What are you doing to her? Stop!” he growled.

  He lunged forward. The creature spotted him, and with expert balance, it lifted a leg to block him. He hissed, but he knew better than to attack. One wrong move and Ember would get dropped, or he would get kicked to death.

  ‘But I need her down here. I can make a clean bite. She could go peacefully if I’m fast enough.’

  Yet something about this human stopped him. The creature made noises as it lowered its leg; soft, slightly melodic noises his muffled hearing almost missed. Its gaze shifted to the upper field, then to him, then to Ember, then back to him. This human wanted to help.

  ‘But how? How can you help her? There’s no helping this. You can’t.’

  “Let her die,” he said. He stepped closer. “Just let her die and leave her be. Leave! Haven’t you done enough already?” He blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. “Go on. Leave and let me do this. I have to do this! You’re only making it worse.”

  The human ignored him. It backed into the pod it had stepped out of, carrying Ember with it. It spoke again as he ran after it, then a sliding door covered them both. The pod whirred back to life.

  “No! No, wait!” he yowled as it started to move.

  With a steady growl, i
t pulled away. Every moment, the white sphere shrunk a little more. It rounded the Western mountain slope and disappeared altogether, taking Ember with it. He stopped, and he let go. The tears he’d fought back so valiantly broke free, rolling down his cheeks and trickling into his fur.

  “Take care of her,” he whispered. “Please.”

  ‘I’m sorry, Ember. I am truly, truly sorry. I’ve failed. I was weak, I hesitated, and I failed you. I failed you. If they can help you, if they can work a wonder, please come back. Whatever it takes, please come back and let me know I did the right thing.’

  His heart nearly stopped as reality sunk in. ‘What am I going to tell Songbird? What am I going to tell Hyrees? Fox it! Fox it! Fight a fox! I’ve lost her. And now she’s—’

  He caterwauled in long, loud frustration. His hearing returned. A cat cried out in the distance. ‘I have to keep fighting. Cats are going to die if I don’t get my priorities straight. They are going to die. There’s nothing I can do for her now. I’m of no use here. My colony needs me. I’ll fight now and cry over it all later.’

  He pawed the tears from his eyes and forced himself to run back to the upper field. He sniffed the air but couldn’t smell Hyrees or any additional cats. Heatwaves of anger burned in his face. ‘Where are you, you harehearted tomcat? We need more cats. Even three more good ones, and we’ll have the area secure. Come on, Hyrees, where are you?’

  “Cloud! A little help?” Wren called.

  Cloud pushed through the grass to where Wren wrestled with a tabby tom. He scruffed the tomcat and jerked him off of Wren’s stomach. Wren jumped up and ran his claws across one of the tom’s eyes. The cat howled in agony. Cloud let go. The cat ran into the grass and disappeared. Cloud glanced at Wren warily.

  “I knew him, back when I lived in the East,” Wren said. “Never liked him much.”

  Cloud only shook his head. He didn’t have time to worry about grudges.

  Wren’s ears flicked back. “What’s wrong?”

  He forced the renewed guilt and sadness back into an irrelevant corner where it belonged. “It doesn’t matter right now. We have a battle to fight.”

  “If you’re sure it can wait,” Wren replied.

  “It can.”

  They positioned themselves next to each other, each cat facing opposite the other. Grass moved around them. At least two Easterners were stalking them. He watched the grass waves, readying himself for the next attack.

  No matter how hard he tried to focus on the present, however, his mind kept drifting back to Ember’s broken body and the human who had carried her away. Every time he mentally shoved them away, they came back, stronger and more painful than before.

  A younger cat, the molly he’d refused to fight, leaped out at them. She landed hard against Cloud’s side. He stumbled back and swung at her. He missed. She dove into the grass, then reappeared next to Wren. She sank her teeth into his flank. He growled and swatted at her face. She let go and jumped back. His claws dug into her shoulder. She squeaked and staggered into the overgrowth.

  A second Easterner, Falcon himself, lunged at Cloud. Cloud leaped out of range, then shoved him off-balance. Falcon landed on his back, paws and claws extended. In his mind, Falcon morphed into Ember’s broken body.

  He shook his head. “Call them off, now. We’ve had enough bloodshed for one night.”

  Falcon got back to his paws. “You and I both know telling them to stop won’t do anything. Some Easterners still feel as though your colony should be punished; even among the few with us tonight. They aren’t going to miss this opportunity to deliver what they consider justice.”

  “Desire for revenge shouldn’t stop us from trying.”

  The molly pounced back out of the grass, knocking Wren onto his side. She sunk her claws into the flesh between his ribs. Wren bent to snap his teeth in her throat. She reared back on her hind paws, then used the momentum to lunge for his neck.

  Cloud’s leaped toward them. “Wren!”

  Falcon shoved Cloud onto the frozen ground. He caught him by the scruff, rendering him helpless. “Don’t take this personally.”

  Instead of a scream, there was only a choked, sputtering meow. Cloud trembled as Wren tried to yowl. Fury burned in his chest. He ripped himself free and snapped his teeth around the closest thing he could grab: Falcon’s muzzle. He bit down as hard as his jaw would allow. Blood coated his tongue. Falcon tried to shake him off, but his teeth only sank in deeper. Falcon jerked his head away. Cloud’s jaw snapped shut. One of his lower fangs snapped off, still embedded in Falcon’s muzzle.

  Cloud growled at the pain and forced it aside. Behind Falcon, the young tabby stared down at Wren, eyes wide and mouth gaping. He yowled in frustration and clawed Falcon out of the way. He charged. The cat’s eyes locked onto him. She lowered her head and ran into the grass.

  He ran to his friend’s side. Wren coughed twice, then went still.

  “No,” Cloud whispered. ‘I could have saved him. This is my fault; I could’ve saved him. My fault,’ his eyes locked onto Falcon, who pawed the tooth from his muzzle, ‘and yours.’

  They pounced at the same time. Cloud adjusted his aim. His claws cut into Falcon’s neck. Falcon swatted at his face. He whirled his head to the side and braced for impact. Claws ripped through his lower cheek and jaw. A moment later, they hit the ground.

  “Stop! Everyone, stop fighting! Have y-you lost your minds?” a voice, faint, but distinctly Lupine’s, called out. “Jade! Jade, call them off! I-I-I don’t know what happened, but please s-stop this madness.”

  “Easterners, stop fighting and group under Coyote Rock, now!” Jade yowled.

  Cloud and Falcon stood up and glared at each other.

  ‘Now they finally decide to come. You’re late, Hyrees. Too late.’

  He walked back to Wren’s now lifeless body. The wound didn’t look like much, just four small puncture holes in his throat, but they’d been enough to sever an artery and bleed him out. Cloud didn’t touch the body, or say anything to it. Instead, he lowered his head and said his goodbyes in silence.

  ‘You deserved more than this, my friend. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reach you in time.’

  “No hard feelings?” Falcon asked.

  Cloud opened his eyes, staring at the bloodstained ground. “If it weren’t an act of war, I’d kill you now.”

  When he spoke, his torn cheek and snapped tooth burned. The anger and bitterness that came alongside the physical pain tore at him from the inside.

  “Can’t say I blame you. But that’s what happens when we fight. Let’s go have a word with Jade. If she thinks I’m dead, war will be inevitable,” Falcon replied.

  “All it took was a few words, and now the fight is over. You wouldn’t even try to stop it,” Cloud hissed.

  “What did you do to stop it?”

  He grimaced. “Advisor or not, you’re just a cat. You aren’t worth starting a war over. No one is worth starting a war over, no matter how important they may be.”

  Falcon’s tail twitched. “Her logic, not mine. I’m jealous of your colony’s laws, Cloud. Only toms allowed to lead. Yes, Jade makes a wonderful commander in times of peace, but she doesn’t do so well in times of war. The stress gets to her, irrationalizes her decisions.”

  Cloud spun to face him. “You only say that because if those laws existed in the East, you might have become commander.”

  Falcon snorted. “Probably not. I’m not kin of anyone important enough for that. Though really, I’m just as content with how things are now. So long as our second discussion goes well, at least. We currently have the disadvantage. For our own sake, I hope it all works out. Shall we?”

  Cloud let out a long, slow breath. His heart still wanted to fight; it pounded in his ears like chants of war. For his colony’s sake, he ignored it, and walked beside Falcon back to the shelter of Coyote Rock. Cold sorrow and bitter anger filled his heart. As they moved, they passed the bodies of their slain comrades. The snow fell in drifts aro
und them, coating the fields, forest, and fallen with white, and hushing the world. The silence might’ve felt eerie to a less rational mind.

  Beneath the rock, Lupine, Whitehaze, and several other Westerners waited. Lupine and Jade both visibly loosened when they saw them approaching, but Lupine was still trembling. Shard, Echo, and the tabby were nowhere to be seen, yet Jade didn’t seem concerned for their safety.

  “Cloud,” Lupine said, “there you are. I w-was so worried we’d lost you too. So far, everyone seems more or less okay. I-I think a few are missing, though,” Lupine said.

  Cloud looked around, taking note of the cats present. “At least two are dead. Several others are unaccounted for. Where’s Hyrees?”

  The calmness of his own voice startled him. ‘Huh. I sound like a wildcat. Probably look like one, too. What would Songbird think if she heard me just then?’

  “Oh,” Lupine said. He sniffled. “Oh no. I-I hoped I had gotten here in-in time to prevent any more deaths, but . . . I guess I was too late after all.”

  “Where is Hyrees?” Cloud asked again.

  Lupine shrunk back, ears pinned. “He ran himself too hard. P-p-passed out moments after he made it to the Glade.”

  Cloud closed his eyes as he sat down. Inside he’d already known it wasn’t Hyrees’s fault, but Lupine confirming it sent another wave of guilt crashing down on him.

  “S-so Jade, could you explain w-w-what happened?” Lupine asked.

  His adrenaline high faded. With the intensity of the fight over, nothing could distract him, or his thoughts, from reality. He struggled against the tears still vying to form in his eyes.

  “We were all getting ready for sleep when cats started running through our camp,” Jade said. “Some of your cats attacked us, and we had no choice but to defend ourselves. After all these winters of peace, I can’t even begin to comprehend why any of you would want to start this up again.”

  “Which cats attacked you?” Lupine asked. “I w-will be sure to punish them.”