Post by dewkit on Dec 8, 2018 19:26:54 GMT -5
Thornfur, the brave and strong LakeClan warrior, entered the treacherous, kittypet territory, also known as the Twoleg’s Domain. As he entered, he saw two dogs, chained by a silvery vine to the silverthorn. They barked fiercely at him, their eyes narrowed on his dark brown pelt.
“Back off dogs. You’re no threat to me,” he growled.
Some kind of Twoleg dump this is. How will I find an proper gift for my son, Sunkit? He gazed around the kittypet territory. It stretched on for fox-lengths. He continued padding on until a huge, red monster was rushing towards him.
“Holy StarClan…” he murmured and jumped out of the way.
“There’s no reason to do that.”
He tilted his head to glance at a rust-furred kittypet sitting on the fence.
“Who are you?” Thornfur meowed.
“I’m Fuzzball. Are you one of those cats that live by the lake and eat your slimy fish?”
Thornfur growled. “Shut up, kittypet.”
“Nobody says shut up to my homie.”
“What? Where are you? Show yourself like a true warrior!” Thornfur demanded.
An overweight kittypet with a chestnut brown pelt catflipped out of the red monster, landing on all four paws. The red monster soared past past him, swerving around the corner in a bright red flash.
“Who are you?” scowled Thornfur, who obviously never saw a cat controlling a monster before.
“I’m Mr. Chubz, and I’m here to back up my homie, Scrubbleton,” he meowed coolly.
“Don’t call me that,” bristled Fuzzball.
“Yo chill my dude, you’re always cool with the Chubz squad,” he replied.
Huh. This cat is one weird kittypet. Thornfur sat on his haunches out of respect for the kittypet, able to control the red monster. “Scrubbleton” as Mr. Chubz called him, maintained a very annoyed face, and leapt off the fence, land on the hard gravel, which roughened his paws.
“Who are you?” asked Fuzzball.
“I’m Thornfur, the deputy of LakeClan,” he meowed. “You haven’t heard of the clans?”
“No. I thought you just lived near the lake,” he replied.
“We do, but there are other clans too. GrassClan, SnowClan, and ForestClan,” he explained.
“I’ve never heard of the clans. I just thought you guys lived in the wild, without the Twolegs to take care of you,” he meowed.
Mr. Chubz took off the shady black thing that covered his eyes. His eyes had an ebony tint to them, with a flashy green that stood out from his chestnut fur.
“Why don’t you guys come over to my place, and snack with me?” offered Chubz.
“No thanks, I don’t eat kittypet food,” Thornfur glared.
“Come, I will show you why it tastes so good,” he nudged Thornfur.
“Fine,” he scowled. “I will taste your kittypet food. I bet it tastes like crowfood.”
“I tell crows to stay away from my food,” he told him.
Thornfur growled. He didn’t want to make friends with this kittypet, but the elders told him not to anger them, for they had many. As they padded on the gravel, murmurs arose from the fences, and kittypets perched on fences and tree branches began to stare at them in interest.
“Is that Mr. Chubz?”
“The nerve to show up here…” snarled an old-looking tom with a gray pelt.
“Weirdo...” muttered a plump tabby.
Thornfur was confused. Were the kittypets… angry at Mr. Chubz? They padded through the hostile area, and arrived at a big, brown and white Twoleg den.
“This is my owner’s place,” Chubz informed them.
They padded through a hole in the fence and walked onto a patch of fresh spring grass. The grass was damp, as if it had rained recently. The grass felt soft on Thornfur’s paws, reminding him of the sand beds he slept on in the LakeClan camp. The tree toms arrived at the silver-wall.
“How do we get in?” asked a puzzled Thornfur.
“Like this,” Fuzzball answered.
He smoothly slid in through a hatch in the silver-wall, and then re-emerged through the hatch.
“It’s easy! Try it!” Fuzzball chided.
“Sure…” Thornfur meowed skeptically.
He slid through the metal hatch as easily as a minnow through his throat. So this is what a Twoleg den looks like. The walls of the den were made of wood, and the inside was spacious too, with dark wood floors smooth on his paws. A huge rock with fur-skin stood before the cats.
“My housefolk aren’t home right now, so let’s eat!” said Chubz.
Chubz led them to a red, hollow stone, embroidered with weird orange leaves. Thornfur peered at the food. It was the orange leaves. They had an intense smell, like stinky crow-food left to rot in the sun. Thornfur gagged when he tasted one.
“What are these?”
Chubz turned around.
“They’re called, Doritos,” he mewed. “And they taste so MLG.”
“Do-ri-tos?” asked a confuzzled Thornfur.
“Yeah. Have some Mountain Dew.”
Chubz offered Thornfur a hollow stone of green water that looked like a disgusting substance.
“Are you trying to kill me?” alarmed Thornfur.
“No, it’s called Mountain Dew. Drink it, it’s sweet,” he insisted.
“Sweet? Like fresh berries?”
“What are berries?” he frowned.
Thornfur was surprised at how little Chubz knew about the wild. Had he never felt the wind ruffling his fur, the fresh water splashing his face, nor the comfort of a clan, watching your back and caring for you? Had he spent all his life trapped within the silverthorns of the Twoleg domain, happily eating his, Doritos, instead of fresh-kill? Thornfur felt disgusted. How could he eat the Twoleg food with its awkward smells and intense taste? He padded away from the hollow stones until he could no longer smell Chub’s food. Fuzzball padded over to him.
“Don’t like housefolk food eh?” asked Fuzzball.
“It tastes like… something I have never eaten before,” he meowed.
“I first hated it, but I got used to it. Sometimes, I miss the comfort of my mother, and her milk,” he sighed.
“What happened to your mother?” asked Thornfur.
“Nothing. She’s fine, I think. But when I was small, I was taken away by my owners. The housefolk I lived with, I didn’t see them again, and my mother. But I like to think of her sometimes,” he mewed.
Thornfur eyes widened. He remembered, when he was a young kit, his mother died of a sickness. The medicine cat, Minnowsplash, told him it was of a deadly disease, bloodcough. It made cats cough up blood and have constant fever. He could remember the moment when Minnowsplash told him the grave news.
“I’m sorry Thornkit… but your mother… she went to StarClan…” Minnowsplash whispered in sorrow.
“Riverstream is… gone?” he mewled.
“Yes… she left to StarClan,” she said gravely.
Since then, his father had been feeding him, and took care of him. His father died when he was a young apprentice, eight moons old. He remembered the moment. They were on the borders of LakeClan, happily hunting together. But suddenly, his father was attacked by a badger.
“Go Thornpaw! Save yourself!” he yelled.
Thornfur had tried to save his father, but the badger escaped, and Thornfur’s father was never seen again. Embittered that he lost his parents, Thornfur was sullen with grief. But he met a nice, warming apprentice. Her name was Stormypaw. She was kind and helped him get over the loss of both his parents. Soon, the two became friends, and maybe a little more than that. When they graduated to warriors, the two became mates. In one moon, Stormypelt was expecting kits. She kitted two healthy kits, Sunkit and Dustkit, and Thornfur became a father
“Uhhh, Thornfur? Hello? Are you there?”
Thornfur shook his head awake.
“I’m here. I was thinking of my parents.”
“Did your parents love and care for you?” asked Fuzzball.
“No… my mother died when I was just a kit,” he meowed.
“Oh… I’m so sorry... I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your mother…” he said with empathy.
Behind the two, Chubz was violently devouring his Doritos. He glanced at the two. His face was stained with orange, and whiskers wet with Mountain Dew.
“What are you guys mewing about?” Chubz asked.
“Nothing,” Fuzzball replied quickly.
“C’mon, tell me Scrubbleton. Mr. Chubz doesn’t skip out on the delicious things in life. Like Doritos!” he remarked.
Chubz is weird. Very weird… Chubz scrambled across the floor and exited the den through a hatch they hadn’t gone through before.
“We should probably follow him,” suggested Fuzzball.
They followed Chubz, and emerged to see a pond, surrounded by a stone ground. Chubz leapt into the air, turned around one time, then splashed, forepaws first.
“Jump in like an MLG pro yo!” hollered Chubz.
Thornfur sipped the pond’s water. It tasted… strange, unlike fresh stream water. He spat it out. He felt remorseful entering the Twoleg Domain. It was the opposite of the beautiful LakeClan camp he lived in. Its views were unfamiliar, the territory unknown. He gathered himself and climbed onto the stick-wall. He felt the urge to leave immediately. I’m sure Sunkit can cope without a gift. But… he is my son. I want him to become a great warrior, maybe even an elite one. But why am I searching in Twolegplace? Just then, Fuzzball padded over to him.
“Hey, follow me. I need to tell you something.”
Thornfur wasn’t sure whether to trust him. But if he was to tell a stranger, it must be urgent. Fuzzball led them to a Twoleg den near the entrance of Twolegplace, presumably where they met earlier.
Fuzzball stared him darkly in the eye. “I have something to tell you. It is a dark, dark secret. But I think you can handle it.”
The entered his housefolk’s den. Darkness was deep in the room, reflecting Fuzzball’s secretive mood as they walked through the den. Fuzzball halted, then turned around to face Thornfur.
“Thornfur. You, as a warrior, must do this task. It is a dark task, one not easily achieved in amidst kittypets. You… must slay Chubz.”
Thornfur frowned. “Slay Chubz? Why?”
“Chubz wasn’t always weird. He was fat, but kind. He was… Normal. But on one perfectly fine day, he was changed. He was never the same again,” meowed Fuzzball.
“Is there something wrong with him?”
“Yes. He killed other cats before. He slayed four of them in one swipe of a claw. He’s too powerful. He could kill me… and everyone too,” he mewed.
“But wouldn’t he kill me easily too?” pointed out Thornfur.
“You’re a warrior, aren’t you? Find a way to kill him.”
Fuzzball backed into the shadows, then nibbled on some weird brown substance. Thornfur left the den. The outskirts of Twolegplace were empty. Desolate of monsters, the place seemed like new territory, waiting to be claimed and scent-marked. All but one kittypet was gone.
Mr. Chubz.
“I heard, what you wanted to do to me in there. You wanted to kill the most MLG kitty ever. But you aren’t gonna get it. I will kill Scrubbleton! Because he’s a scrub!” he snarled. “And you too, wildcat.”
He lunged at Thornfur, claws unsheathed. Thornfur quickly dodged, but felt sharp pain on his forepaw. Owww! A cut on his pads spilled drops of crimson onto the ground. Chubz chuckled.
“Prepare to get rekt wildcat,” he grinned, and tackled him to the ground.
“Face it, you never had a chance,” he snarled.
Thornfur knew he was right. Cuts scraped his forepaw and his back was in immense pain. He could feel his trip to StarClan near. Chubz was snarling with a wicked grin on his, claw digging into his shoulders. He would win...
No! I won’t let a kittypet kill me! If I will die, it will be alongside my clan, or maybe of old age! He launched Chubz off with a powerful kick from his rear legs, and got to his feet.
“Try, warrior! Mr. Chubz will rek you anyway!”
They ran at each other, claws unsheathed, bloodlust glowing in their eyes. They leapt, and delivered deadly cut and scratches to each other. Their pelt were red with blood, shoulders sagging, and breaths fast and quick. Thornfur crumpled. He realized a huge slash in his haunches was bleeding a river of crimson. No…
“I told you! I am the one-.”
A fast monster slammed into Chubz, sending him far, far away, to die, moaning for his Doritos in a pool of blood. A red sliver of fur, which used to be adorned around Chubz’s neck, laid on the ground.
Fuzzball appeared before Thornfur, like a spirit from StarClan.
“Well done Thornfur. Looks like you slayed the one they call… Mr. Chubbleton the Eighth.”
“What? How did you appear like that kittypet? Unless… no, you’re from StarClan?” gasped Thornfur.
“Very well indeed. I am the one they call… Rustpelt.”
“Makes sense,” shrugged Thornfur. “But why did you have me kill him?”
The rusty-pelted warrior stood silent.
“Why?” demanded Thornfur. “Why!”
The StarClan cat disappeared with the wind, carrying his soul up to the stars. Thornfur was confused. But StarClan had its ways. Its mysterious, unusual ways. He clenched the red fur-strip between his teeth. Maybe it would make a good gift to Sunkit. His haunches throbbed with pain. He sagged. I must get back to the clan…
I must.
“Back off dogs. You’re no threat to me,” he growled.
Some kind of Twoleg dump this is. How will I find an proper gift for my son, Sunkit? He gazed around the kittypet territory. It stretched on for fox-lengths. He continued padding on until a huge, red monster was rushing towards him.
“Holy StarClan…” he murmured and jumped out of the way.
“There’s no reason to do that.”
He tilted his head to glance at a rust-furred kittypet sitting on the fence.
“Who are you?” Thornfur meowed.
“I’m Fuzzball. Are you one of those cats that live by the lake and eat your slimy fish?”
Thornfur growled. “Shut up, kittypet.”
“Nobody says shut up to my homie.”
“What? Where are you? Show yourself like a true warrior!” Thornfur demanded.
An overweight kittypet with a chestnut brown pelt catflipped out of the red monster, landing on all four paws. The red monster soared past past him, swerving around the corner in a bright red flash.
“Who are you?” scowled Thornfur, who obviously never saw a cat controlling a monster before.
“I’m Mr. Chubz, and I’m here to back up my homie, Scrubbleton,” he meowed coolly.
“Don’t call me that,” bristled Fuzzball.
“Yo chill my dude, you’re always cool with the Chubz squad,” he replied.
Huh. This cat is one weird kittypet. Thornfur sat on his haunches out of respect for the kittypet, able to control the red monster. “Scrubbleton” as Mr. Chubz called him, maintained a very annoyed face, and leapt off the fence, land on the hard gravel, which roughened his paws.
“Who are you?” asked Fuzzball.
“I’m Thornfur, the deputy of LakeClan,” he meowed. “You haven’t heard of the clans?”
“No. I thought you just lived near the lake,” he replied.
“We do, but there are other clans too. GrassClan, SnowClan, and ForestClan,” he explained.
“I’ve never heard of the clans. I just thought you guys lived in the wild, without the Twolegs to take care of you,” he meowed.
Mr. Chubz took off the shady black thing that covered his eyes. His eyes had an ebony tint to them, with a flashy green that stood out from his chestnut fur.
“Why don’t you guys come over to my place, and snack with me?” offered Chubz.
“No thanks, I don’t eat kittypet food,” Thornfur glared.
“Come, I will show you why it tastes so good,” he nudged Thornfur.
“Fine,” he scowled. “I will taste your kittypet food. I bet it tastes like crowfood.”
“I tell crows to stay away from my food,” he told him.
Thornfur growled. He didn’t want to make friends with this kittypet, but the elders told him not to anger them, for they had many. As they padded on the gravel, murmurs arose from the fences, and kittypets perched on fences and tree branches began to stare at them in interest.
“Is that Mr. Chubz?”
“The nerve to show up here…” snarled an old-looking tom with a gray pelt.
“Weirdo...” muttered a plump tabby.
Thornfur was confused. Were the kittypets… angry at Mr. Chubz? They padded through the hostile area, and arrived at a big, brown and white Twoleg den.
“This is my owner’s place,” Chubz informed them.
They padded through a hole in the fence and walked onto a patch of fresh spring grass. The grass was damp, as if it had rained recently. The grass felt soft on Thornfur’s paws, reminding him of the sand beds he slept on in the LakeClan camp. The tree toms arrived at the silver-wall.
“How do we get in?” asked a puzzled Thornfur.
“Like this,” Fuzzball answered.
He smoothly slid in through a hatch in the silver-wall, and then re-emerged through the hatch.
“It’s easy! Try it!” Fuzzball chided.
“Sure…” Thornfur meowed skeptically.
He slid through the metal hatch as easily as a minnow through his throat. So this is what a Twoleg den looks like. The walls of the den were made of wood, and the inside was spacious too, with dark wood floors smooth on his paws. A huge rock with fur-skin stood before the cats.
“My housefolk aren’t home right now, so let’s eat!” said Chubz.
Chubz led them to a red, hollow stone, embroidered with weird orange leaves. Thornfur peered at the food. It was the orange leaves. They had an intense smell, like stinky crow-food left to rot in the sun. Thornfur gagged when he tasted one.
“What are these?”
Chubz turned around.
“They’re called, Doritos,” he mewed. “And they taste so MLG.”
“Do-ri-tos?” asked a confuzzled Thornfur.
“Yeah. Have some Mountain Dew.”
Chubz offered Thornfur a hollow stone of green water that looked like a disgusting substance.
“Are you trying to kill me?” alarmed Thornfur.
“No, it’s called Mountain Dew. Drink it, it’s sweet,” he insisted.
“Sweet? Like fresh berries?”
“What are berries?” he frowned.
Thornfur was surprised at how little Chubz knew about the wild. Had he never felt the wind ruffling his fur, the fresh water splashing his face, nor the comfort of a clan, watching your back and caring for you? Had he spent all his life trapped within the silverthorns of the Twoleg domain, happily eating his, Doritos, instead of fresh-kill? Thornfur felt disgusted. How could he eat the Twoleg food with its awkward smells and intense taste? He padded away from the hollow stones until he could no longer smell Chub’s food. Fuzzball padded over to him.
“Don’t like housefolk food eh?” asked Fuzzball.
“It tastes like… something I have never eaten before,” he meowed.
“I first hated it, but I got used to it. Sometimes, I miss the comfort of my mother, and her milk,” he sighed.
“What happened to your mother?” asked Thornfur.
“Nothing. She’s fine, I think. But when I was small, I was taken away by my owners. The housefolk I lived with, I didn’t see them again, and my mother. But I like to think of her sometimes,” he mewed.
Thornfur eyes widened. He remembered, when he was a young kit, his mother died of a sickness. The medicine cat, Minnowsplash, told him it was of a deadly disease, bloodcough. It made cats cough up blood and have constant fever. He could remember the moment when Minnowsplash told him the grave news.
“I’m sorry Thornkit… but your mother… she went to StarClan…” Minnowsplash whispered in sorrow.
“Riverstream is… gone?” he mewled.
“Yes… she left to StarClan,” she said gravely.
Since then, his father had been feeding him, and took care of him. His father died when he was a young apprentice, eight moons old. He remembered the moment. They were on the borders of LakeClan, happily hunting together. But suddenly, his father was attacked by a badger.
“Go Thornpaw! Save yourself!” he yelled.
Thornfur had tried to save his father, but the badger escaped, and Thornfur’s father was never seen again. Embittered that he lost his parents, Thornfur was sullen with grief. But he met a nice, warming apprentice. Her name was Stormypaw. She was kind and helped him get over the loss of both his parents. Soon, the two became friends, and maybe a little more than that. When they graduated to warriors, the two became mates. In one moon, Stormypelt was expecting kits. She kitted two healthy kits, Sunkit and Dustkit, and Thornfur became a father
“Uhhh, Thornfur? Hello? Are you there?”
Thornfur shook his head awake.
“I’m here. I was thinking of my parents.”
“Did your parents love and care for you?” asked Fuzzball.
“No… my mother died when I was just a kit,” he meowed.
“Oh… I’m so sorry... I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your mother…” he said with empathy.
Behind the two, Chubz was violently devouring his Doritos. He glanced at the two. His face was stained with orange, and whiskers wet with Mountain Dew.
“What are you guys mewing about?” Chubz asked.
“Nothing,” Fuzzball replied quickly.
“C’mon, tell me Scrubbleton. Mr. Chubz doesn’t skip out on the delicious things in life. Like Doritos!” he remarked.
Chubz is weird. Very weird… Chubz scrambled across the floor and exited the den through a hatch they hadn’t gone through before.
“We should probably follow him,” suggested Fuzzball.
They followed Chubz, and emerged to see a pond, surrounded by a stone ground. Chubz leapt into the air, turned around one time, then splashed, forepaws first.
“Jump in like an MLG pro yo!” hollered Chubz.
Thornfur sipped the pond’s water. It tasted… strange, unlike fresh stream water. He spat it out. He felt remorseful entering the Twoleg Domain. It was the opposite of the beautiful LakeClan camp he lived in. Its views were unfamiliar, the territory unknown. He gathered himself and climbed onto the stick-wall. He felt the urge to leave immediately. I’m sure Sunkit can cope without a gift. But… he is my son. I want him to become a great warrior, maybe even an elite one. But why am I searching in Twolegplace? Just then, Fuzzball padded over to him.
“Hey, follow me. I need to tell you something.”
Thornfur wasn’t sure whether to trust him. But if he was to tell a stranger, it must be urgent. Fuzzball led them to a Twoleg den near the entrance of Twolegplace, presumably where they met earlier.
Fuzzball stared him darkly in the eye. “I have something to tell you. It is a dark, dark secret. But I think you can handle it.”
The entered his housefolk’s den. Darkness was deep in the room, reflecting Fuzzball’s secretive mood as they walked through the den. Fuzzball halted, then turned around to face Thornfur.
“Thornfur. You, as a warrior, must do this task. It is a dark task, one not easily achieved in amidst kittypets. You… must slay Chubz.”
Thornfur frowned. “Slay Chubz? Why?”
“Chubz wasn’t always weird. He was fat, but kind. He was… Normal. But on one perfectly fine day, he was changed. He was never the same again,” meowed Fuzzball.
“Is there something wrong with him?”
“Yes. He killed other cats before. He slayed four of them in one swipe of a claw. He’s too powerful. He could kill me… and everyone too,” he mewed.
“But wouldn’t he kill me easily too?” pointed out Thornfur.
“You’re a warrior, aren’t you? Find a way to kill him.”
Fuzzball backed into the shadows, then nibbled on some weird brown substance. Thornfur left the den. The outskirts of Twolegplace were empty. Desolate of monsters, the place seemed like new territory, waiting to be claimed and scent-marked. All but one kittypet was gone.
Mr. Chubz.
“I heard, what you wanted to do to me in there. You wanted to kill the most MLG kitty ever. But you aren’t gonna get it. I will kill Scrubbleton! Because he’s a scrub!” he snarled. “And you too, wildcat.”
He lunged at Thornfur, claws unsheathed. Thornfur quickly dodged, but felt sharp pain on his forepaw. Owww! A cut on his pads spilled drops of crimson onto the ground. Chubz chuckled.
“Prepare to get rekt wildcat,” he grinned, and tackled him to the ground.
“Face it, you never had a chance,” he snarled.
Thornfur knew he was right. Cuts scraped his forepaw and his back was in immense pain. He could feel his trip to StarClan near. Chubz was snarling with a wicked grin on his, claw digging into his shoulders. He would win...
No! I won’t let a kittypet kill me! If I will die, it will be alongside my clan, or maybe of old age! He launched Chubz off with a powerful kick from his rear legs, and got to his feet.
“Try, warrior! Mr. Chubz will rek you anyway!”
They ran at each other, claws unsheathed, bloodlust glowing in their eyes. They leapt, and delivered deadly cut and scratches to each other. Their pelt were red with blood, shoulders sagging, and breaths fast and quick. Thornfur crumpled. He realized a huge slash in his haunches was bleeding a river of crimson. No…
“I told you! I am the one-.”
A fast monster slammed into Chubz, sending him far, far away, to die, moaning for his Doritos in a pool of blood. A red sliver of fur, which used to be adorned around Chubz’s neck, laid on the ground.
Fuzzball appeared before Thornfur, like a spirit from StarClan.
“Well done Thornfur. Looks like you slayed the one they call… Mr. Chubbleton the Eighth.”
“What? How did you appear like that kittypet? Unless… no, you’re from StarClan?” gasped Thornfur.
“Very well indeed. I am the one they call… Rustpelt.”
“Makes sense,” shrugged Thornfur. “But why did you have me kill him?”
The rusty-pelted warrior stood silent.
“Why?” demanded Thornfur. “Why!”
The StarClan cat disappeared with the wind, carrying his soul up to the stars. Thornfur was confused. But StarClan had its ways. Its mysterious, unusual ways. He clenched the red fur-strip between his teeth. Maybe it would make a good gift to Sunkit. His haunches throbbed with pain. He sagged. I must get back to the clan…
I must.