helloilovecats Here you go!

They noticed it maybe a quarter of the way from the camp to the SpruceClan border. The moss cracked, ever so slightly, underneath their paws. It caused Finchpaw's ears to prick in surprise. He sank his claws in it, then, and found it dry and dead.

"No..." he forced out. His mind was whirling. We're all going to die.

Poppyfire stood frozen in horror behind him, her ginger pelt on end. "It can't be..." she breathed. The same look of terror and horror was on her features. They were vulnerable, they were in danger, their one advantage was gone.

The moss-- their namesake, their protector, their guard and their alarm-- was dying.

They stood there, stunned, for a couple more moments. Then mentor and apprentice glanced at each other briefly and, by unspoken agreement, raced off in opposite directions.

The sick moss seemed to follow a roughly straight line, Finchpaw realized as he followed it. It cracked and broke beneath his paws, yet it felt strangely wet and sticky. Something clung to his paws as the silence MossClan was famed for was thrown to the side by the dying moss. Instead of silencing his pawsteps, the dry substance reflected the sound as clearly as a cave wall.

He stopped then, suddenly and without any clear reason, and bent down to sniff the moss. Finchpaw recoiled almost immediately-- the scent was so strange, unnatural and utterly wrong that it made his pelt stand on end,

Noises came from up ahead, and he froze. The moss was more coated with liquid, and the smell was stronger here, and he couldn't scent a thing. His ears swivled as he attempted to pinpoint the noise, determine whether he should flee or saty

Rogues? he worried briefly, then revised his observation. No, those squeaks sound like Twolegs...

He was up a tree before he even consciously suggested it to himself, sinking his claws into the soft but rough wood. Some part of him chastised himself for his terror and cowardice, but the more logical, reasonable half argued that he didn't want to die. The needles of the spruce tree pricked into his skin, but he refused to flinch, fearing that the strand creatures below would notice him.

He peered through the needles, then wrinkled his nose, observing the three Twolegs with a hint of confusion. He'd seen Twolegs before- there was a small Thunderpath near the SquirrelClan border-- but these Twolegs seemed...different. Maybe it was how they moved, or gestured with their hairless paws energetically as they dumped some sort of canister onto the ground, but they reminded him of the elder who had gove a bit mad at the end of her life. Despite her frailty and obvious incompetence, she'd tried to hurt others, kill them even. She'd died soon after of what the medicine cat deemed a head injury-- clearly, that cat had not been in her right mind. These Twolegs seemed...strangely similar.

Finchpaw refocused his attention onto the canister they were dumping. Strange, water-looking fluid spilled from it. No, not water...this liquid was slightly yellow and it reeked of the same scent that the moss had. Finchpaw felt anger ignite within him...were they killing the moss? Killing the one thing keeping them alive? And if he had to guess, they were having fun with it as well, if their wild gesticulations were any indicators.

Before he could stop himself or even think of the possible consequences, he hissed, long and loud. The Twolegs panicked, dropping the container of strange yellow fluid, and glanced around the area frantically. But, like most cats, they didn't look up.

Finchpaw purred in satisfaction, bunching his muscles to jump in and fight. He hesitated suddenly. No. I can't...I'm not brave, I'm not strong...but I have to, for my Clan... A battle waged in his mind, fierce and stubborn, a battle of cowardice and loyalty.

His cowardice won, and he watching from the pine tree silently, not doing anything at all.

My Clan will die because of me...

His mentor suddenly came pelting in, her ginger fur streaking across the wet moss. Her mouth was hanging slightly open, something Finchpaw knew she did to concentrate.

She'd do it! Of course she would. Finchpaw felt a surge of gratitude and relief toward his mento before it was swallowed in a mountain of self-loathing. He had done nothing, accomplished nothing. He was a failure.

Poppyfire hissed, her open mouth making her look almost mad, or maybe sick. Her pawsteps were haphazard as she tried for find purchase on the slick moss, and one of the Twolegs squealed something, pointed at her, and they raced off in terror.

Finchpaw felt a surge of relief. They were safe. The Clan was safe.

He winced as another wave of self-loathing hit him violently. Not that I even tried to help. I'm a coward.

I should have done something...SOMETHING...

Poppyfire paused, fur on end. She sniffed the ground, wrinkled her nose, and glanced around the area frantically. Finchpaw heard a hint of terror in her mew as she scanned the trees and called out, "Finchpaw? Finchpaw, they're gone."

FInchpaw scurried down the tree, tail first, and rushed over to his mentor. She seemed to sag slightly in relief at his appearance. She purred, then said, "Without you, I wouldn't have been able to find this. You're a real hero, Finchpaw! Who knows what they would've done if we didn't stop them!"

Finchpaw nodded, his chest puffed slightly out in pride. Then he deflated a bit, the craziness and terror of the situation finally catching up to him, and he began shaking slightly. "I...I am? I'm a hero?"

Poppyfire nodded empathetically. "Of course! You may have even saved our Clan. You're a real warrior."

Finchpaw purred in pride. "I...I did something useful..." But it was so terrifying...was being a warrior like this? All the time? His expression then fell slightly as he realized how little he'd done. "But...but it's so small. You did all the work." He quietly whispered, "I'm not brave. I never will be."

Poppyfire purred. "You think that becoming brave is so easy? No, this may be just one small step, but it's the first on your journey to become truly great."

Word count: 1050

Fun facts:

- The liquid was gasoline

- The Twolegs were obviously arsonists

- The Twolegs also though Poppyfire had rabies

Yeah I maybe rejoined xD

I'm going to lose but it's just fun lol