One by One (and then there were none) ~ a one-shot

One by One

and then there were none

"Doom, death, destruction, and darkness. Doom, I say. Doooom!" —The old rabbit, Mattimeo, p. 314

"We're all that's left now." The solemn meow rang across the rocks overlooking the dead forest.

That's what it was, dead. The trees were bare and blackened, and the undergrowth had vanished.

Five cats stood looking over the ruins of their home. The Night Claws had once been powerful and fearsome, but no more. They were gone, with only a pawful of cats who had escaped the roaring wildfire alive.

These five cats had, through various circumstances, managed to make it out onto the black rocks where no trees grew, and there they had weathered the fierce heat, intensified by the fire nearby. Though they had tried to burrow into snowy patches, all of them still managed to come away with sunburned ears.

Sparrowhunter, Icerunner, and Ravencatcher had been out hunting, as was their duty. Wrenwatcher had been out on a patrol, making sure that the coyotes really had left. And Pinesayer had been searching for herbs to add to the store back at camp. They had each smelled the smoke, seen it rising—and realized there was no way they could make it home, based on where the fire was moving.

Every one of them was burdened with guilt for abandoning their friends and family to the inferno, but what could they have done? Wrenwatcher's fellow patroller, Stoneguard, had run to help the cats back at camp. He'd never returned.

It was Pinesayer who had spoken those somber words. His green eyes were full of grief and exhaustion as he gazed at the wreckage of the forest.

"What will we do now?" Sparrowhunter mewed plaintively. The small tabby was the youngest of the surviving cats, having only received her full name a quarter moon ago. She looked haunted by the ordeal she had just endured.

Automatically, the others turned their eyes to Wrenwatcher, who was the oldest and wisest of them. She likely would have retired from her duties in a season or two, as her joints couldn't handle long patrols like they used to anymore. Her long life experience made it natural that others should treat her as their new leader.

"We won't go back to camp," the brown tabby she-cat stated firmly. "That would be too terrible to see, and we must not disturb it now—it the final resting place of the Night Claws."

"But we're still Night Claws, though, aren't we?" Ravencatcher challenged, her eyes flashing. "We have hunters, and a guard, and a healer. We may need to find more cats, but we aren't gone yet!"

It was Pinesayer who answered, a grim tone in his voice. "Where will we find other cats, Ravencatcher? The only place there might be cats is the Twolegplace, and no kittypet is dumb enough to wander around outside where there are hawks and coyotes and bobcats. Face it, we were an anomaly in this land. The Night Claws only existed because we were a large group."

Sparrowhunter winced each time he said "were". The thought of the Night Claws being truly gone was terrifying. But their future certainly looked bleak.

Wrenwatcher nodded solemnly to affirm the healer's words.

Icerunner shook his head in disbelief. "Are you really going to give up just like that? We can eke out a living here, I know it."

"Do you really know it, or do you just hope?" Wrenwatcher murmured doubtfully. Icerunner could give no reply other than to lash his tail.

The cats sat together silently for quite some time, until Icerunner could no longer bear it. He burst out angrily, "I'm not going to sit here waiting to die! I'll hunt, if anyone else wants to eat!"

Wrenwatcher settled herself more firmly into a dip in the jumbled black rocks and shook her head. Pinesayer and Ravencatcher said nothing, just huddled closer together. Sparrowhunter glanced at the others, then timidly padded forward.

"I'll go with you, Icerunner."

The skeletal trees cast long shadows in the rays of the setting sun. Sparrowhunter shuddered as she and Icerunner trotted between the trees, her heart aching for the scorched pines, and more sharply, her lost campmates. There was not a scent of prey in the air, only the harsh odor of burned plants and... Best not to think about it.

Icerunner's tail flicked with anger at first, but soon it stopped and hung low, the tip almost brushing the ground. He was just as affected by the destruction as his companion. The white tom said nothing, but he was plainly devastated.

It was all Sparrowhunter could do to keep from reaching out and touching the proud tom's pelt with her muzzle in a comforting gesture. She knew he wouldn't appreciate her recognition of what he would term as weakness.

Search as they might, there simply was no prey to be found, and so as it neared midnight, they trekked back to their friends, who were sound asleep in a tight cluster for protection against the bitter cold of the night. Bellies rumbling with hunger, the two young cats curled up with the others and fell into an uneasy sleep.

~

Pinesayer's and Wrenwatcher's pessimism began to fulfill itself. Although the cats had discussed venturing out into the rockfield and finding one of the tunnels to live in, it just didn't seem feasible to trek all over the rough stones more than was necessary. All of the cats already had raw, abraded pads from looking for snow patches to get water from, but Ravencatcher insisted that their paws would toughen up in time.

None of the others cared to test that theory, so instead they managed to erect a sort of wall with the stones down where they were to act as a camp boundary. They had a steady supply of water from the snow, but food was a problem. 

Icerunner and Sparrowhunter had spent nearly all of the past few days and nights searching for prey, and so far had managed to only turn up one wren. Ravencatcher helped sometimes, but she was more interested in finding a camp that would be easier to defend.

Wrenwatcher grew weaker and weaker from the combination of exposure to the searing heat of the day, and the lack of food. Pinesayer spent nearly all of his time looking after her, but without herbs, there wasn't much he could do besides bring snow for her to lap at.

Today, finally, the three hunters combined brought down a nutcracker. The large black-and-gray bird would provide more than just a bite for each of them. Sparrowhunter, who'd made the actual kill, was extremely pleased with herself.

They were just about to take it back when a sudden growl stopped them in their tracks. A skinny coyote crept out from behind a rock, plainly interested in the fresh-kill.

Ravencatcher knew they wouldn't be able to outrun it, for although the coyote was obviously weak, so were they. There was only one option. "Run!" the black she-cat shrieked urgently. "I'll hold it off."

"Ravencatcher, no!" Sparrowhunter wailed. "Let's leave the bird and run!"

"No way," Ravencatcher hissed. "Wrenwatcher needs that food. Who knows when we'll find something that good again? I'll... I'll catch up to you later..." Her voice trailed away, as she knew that last statement was a lie.

Icerunner nudged Sparrowhunter. "It's now or never. Let's go."

"But—"

"We need to start moving, or Ravencatcher's sacrifice will be for nothing." His yellow eyes seemed to burn into Sparrowhunter's amber.

With another anguished look at the black she-cat, who was stalking aggressively toward the coyote, Sparrowhunter nodded.

Icerunner snatched up the nutcracker in his jaws, and together the two hunters fled, with the yowls and barks of the fight sounding in their ears.

~

It was with great sorrow that Sparrowhunter and Icerunner reported the death of Ravencatcher; poor Sparrowhunter was so shaken that she did little more than add an emphatic comment here and there while Icerunner related the tale.

But the hardest blow was yet to come.

In spite of Ravencatcher's brave sacrifice to bring a good meal to Wrenwatcher, it wasn't enough. Just one day later, the last guard of the Night Claws died in a spasm of coughing. The smoke had damaged her old lungs beyond repair, and even a freshly caught meal could not prevent death from visiting the tabby she-cat.

What cruel irony! Sparrowhunter was distraught, even though Pinesayer attempted to soothe her by explaining why Wrenwatcher's death was inevitable.

"Ravencatcher made her own choice," the healer added. "Respect it. And even if Wrenwatcher is dead, that meal gave us a little extra strength to carry on." But the bleak expression on his face betrayed the fact that he didn't believe they would carry on very long.

He was right, of course. In such a harsh environment, with so little prey, three cats just couldn't survive. Especially not when their spirits were utterly crushed by the loss of their whole culture and some of the friends who had made it through the fire.

Sparrowhunter's hope that the Night Claws may yet persevere was dashed when Wrenwatcher died. Before, they still had had one representative of each main rank in the Night Claws. But with Wrenwatcher gone, who would train new guards? The answer, of course, was nobody.

Pinesayer started trying to hunt, but he had never been trained to hunt for anything but herbs, so he failed miserably. He rarely found anything (well, that was the same with Sparrowhunter and Icerunner), but when he did, he always missed it. His technique was all over the place; however, Icerunner decided that the two hunters' time would be better spent hunting rather than teaching the healer to hunt.

One day while Pinesayer was hunting alone, a hungry golden eagle spotted the weak and skinny cat scrambling over the rough black rocks. He didn't even stand a chance. In fact, he didn't even know what hit him when the dark bird plunged from the sky.

The bloodstains on the stones and scraps of fur told enough of the story for Sparrowhunter to realize that their healer friend was gone forever.

That night, as she and Icerunner curled up together in their little rocky shelter, she whispered sadly, "The Night Claws really are gone, aren't they? Without any leaders or healers or guards, we're just two cats all alone..."

"Two cats all alone who will survive, Sparrow. We have to believe that." His yellow eyes were soft as he gazed at the tabby she-cat.

Sparrow. He had called her by her short name, something only close family and mates did. Affection swelled in her heart as she buried her face in his fur. It was so like the proud white tom to never admit defeat.

She was aware of a feeling of rare contentment in spite of the day's tragedy as she drifted off to sleep.

~

The next day, they dared to plan a fragile future together. They would have one last good meal, then set off across the rockfield to find the tunnels. It had been rumored among the Night Claws that one of them opened into a whole different part of the land.

Once they made it into the new place, they would build a den... Hunt... Possibly even raise a family... It all seemed so incredible to Sparrowhunter. Just last night, she had felt such despair, and today—new hope!

They had the phenomenal luck of finding a raven scooping up snow in its beak to get water, and while the bird was focused on its task, they took it down. It was so huge that they couldn't even eat all of it, and had to leave some behind.

The journey across the rockfield was deeply exhausting. They constantly had to adjust their gait to accommodate the uneven terrain, and the sun beating down on their pelts didn't help at all. Their only respite was whenever they reached a patch of snow. Then they would gleefully gobble mouthfuls of it, and once their thirst was quenched, roll in it to cool off.

They reached the highest point at sunset and marveled at the spectacular view. Sparrowhunter was very tired, and her paws hurt like crazy, but she was very happy with the results of the day.

Morning came, and with it, tragedy.

Icerunner jumped onto a rock near the edge of the steep side of the peak and yowled, "This is amazing! I know we will find—"

"Ice!" Sparrowhunter's shriek split the air.

The rock wobbled under the white tom's weight, and suddenly rolled. Both the rock and Icerunner went tumbling down the steep rocky slope.

The brown tabby she-cat scrambled after him as fast as she dared, but she knew it was hopeless from the moment Icerunner came to a stop and never moved. Her pads were bleeding from her race across the jagged rocks, but she didn't care.

"Icerunner..." She crouched by her would-have-been mate and touched her muzzle to his fur. "What will I do without you?" A wild screech of grief tore itself from her throat.

She hadn't just lost a dear cat, she had lost the last cat. Sparrowhunter was all alone.

The little tabby she-cat wandered aimlessly across the rockfield, neither knowing nor caring where she was going. She grew careless and tripped countless times. But what did it matter? There was no one there to notice.

She had lost everything; her world was destroyed.

Her territory.

The Night Claws.

Her fellow survivors.

Icerunner...

Her future.

There was nothing left but death and destruction for a skinny tabby cat alone in this hot, dry, wasteland of a place.

Nothing.

~

Author's notes: This is repost from the old forums, from a Tuesday Challenge about destruction. If the location seems unrealistic with snow not melting in the heat, I based it fairly closely off of a place where I went hiking once (and I never want to hike there again, it was awful).