Hi guys! Here's the contest fic for the @WattyClans contest. #WattyClansWriteComp1
I want to give a special shoutout to my friend and current writing partner, Sparrowheart838 who I wrote this story with. We collaborated greatly, and the story wouldn't have been as fantastic as it is without her! Go check out her version of the story on her profile.

~Blaze

Round 1-A: Write a creative short story about a cat finding an injured Twoleg kit and how they manage the situation.

Min: 600 words

Guide

The air was brisk, a light wind blowing gently through the trees. The leaves rustled and shook under its attention, some beginning to change color while others still were falling prematurely. The forest was calm and quiet, mice nibbling gently on seeds, birds chirping softly to their families, the odd squirrel shooting up and down tree trunks.

One mouse sat on its lonesome, ears pricked for danger. After a few seconds, it ducked down and foraged with a silent desperation, pawing at the ground until it triumphantly stood with a small seed in its mouth. It sat on its haunches to enjoy its meal, yet just as it was about to take a bite, it froze, smelling the air. In the next second it was gone, seed abandoned next to the overgrown root.

A snarl sounded from a nearby bush. Moments later, a white tom pushed through the brambles, eyes narrowed and tail lashing. Behind him a ticked brown tabby she-cat meandered to stand beside him, paws scuffing the earth and an apology on her face.

"I'm sorry, Whitefur. I don't know what's gotten into me today." She spoke to the older tom. He eyed her with thinly veiled disdain.

"Spottedfern, this is the fourth time today that you lost prey! At this rate, the Clan will go hungry tonight," he chastised. "You need to focus, and for StarClan's sake stop acting so jittery!"

The tabby she-cat's ears flattened, and she seemed to sink into herself. The tom closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. When he next spoke, his voice was softer, calmer. "How about we split up. I'll head towards the FeatherClan border. You can head to The Grove. Perhaps there you can catch something."

He watched as she sagged even more. Disappointment crossed her eyes, followed by a reluctant acceptance. What was that about? He mused.

Whitefur waited until he saw her disappear in the direction of the bushes before continuing towards the border. There was time before the next patrol, and he might as well renew the scent marks while he was in the area. After all, there had recently been scent discrepancies on the border, and Whitefur didn't want a war to begin so close to the start of leaf-bare.

As he padded through the forest, his anger was renewed. Yes, it was leaf-fall, and leaf bare would soon come! This was not the time to be missing prey. Spottedfern was one of the more air-headed she-cats in the Clan, but as far as he heard, she was usually not this mousebrained while hunting. Perhaps it was because he was the deputy of the Clan? Maybe that was making her nervous... But regardless, she needed to learn.

The HollyClan deputy stepped through a copse of trees, intent on marking a stump that symbolized a portion of the border, and was surprised to see a rival cat waiting at the border. His gray fur was illuminated by the slowly setting sun. Whitefur watched as his bushy tail waved back and forth. He appeared lost in thought.

Whitefur padded up behind him, carefully avoiding any loose sticks or crunchy leaves. Now that he was closer, he could recognize the tom as Squirrelfoot, a relatively new Warrior of FeatherClan. A feeling grew in Whitefurs mind, a nigling that something about this was familiar.

"I wasn't aware that FeatherClan allowed its Warriors to rest on the border," he commented. "It must be a new way to patrol." Squirrelfoot startled, whipping around to face him.

"I... I ... I just got distracted." He stammered.

Whitefur snorted, mood already intolerant. "That was your signal to leave from here before I find your dawdling to be a threat to my Clan's safety." Why was he loitering by the border? It was rather suspicious.

"Your Clans safety? HollyClan's the one who's been stealing FeatherClan's prey," Squirrelfoot accused. "Just yesterday I followed a scent trail into our territory and back across your border."

Whitefur puffed up, his thick white fur making his form appear twice the size it actually was. He breathed heavily, and his voice was sharp as he replied. "HollyClan has kept to our side of the territory just as we always have." Whitefur's ears perked as he remembered a report from a previous border patrol. "I do recall seeing you for the past few days on this very border, loitering. Explain that."

Squirrelfoot's eyes widened, and Whitefur could see him scrambling for a response. Maybe HollyClan really was planning to stealing prey?

"Snowtail believes that someone is crossing the border. I'm here to stop them should they come by." Whitefur frowned mentally. Snowtail was the FeatherClan deputy. He very well could have sent Squirrelfoot here.

The aforementioned tom puffed out his chest proudly after his response. Whitefur rolled his eyes. "Yes you are a very formidable force and my Clanmates would fear your very presence here. May StarClan save us all from your diligent watch on our actions."

Squirrelfoot's eyes narrowed. "I happen to be one of the most promising young warriors in FeatherClan." The older white tom flicked his tail, temper running away with him.

"You are the best FeatherClan has to offer, huh," Whitefur snarked. "Tell me, how is Rowanpaw doing? Is she recovering well? That fall must have been so tough for her."

Whitefur watched as Squirrelfoot flinched, and he sighed, flicking his tail. He had gone too far. "I... apologize. I truly did not mean to tarnish the event, and I know it was not your fault." He stepped forward and scuffed his paws in the dirt. "Is Rowanpaw ok?" Whitefur's ears flattened guiltily. He could only imagine how it felt to have an apprentice become injured.

"She's Stormwatchers apprentice now," Squirrelfoot replied solemnly, referring to his Clan's medicine cat. "Shadepaw let her littermate take on the healer role so she could still feel useful to the Clan."

"That's good," Whitefur mumbled awkwardly. His ears pricked suddenly as a loud crash came from further down the border. It sounded like something large had fallen over. Was it a tree? A cry followed the crash. The two toms exchanged a confused look. It was unlike any sound he had heard before, loud and piercing but not feline in the slightest.

"What in the world...?" Whitefur trailed off, peering through the trees. He padded off towards the sound, slinking carefully as to not be seen. The wailing grew louder and louder as they walked, and finally he saw the source of the sound. A small Twoleg, probably a Twoleg kit, sat on the ground. Its face was red, eyes screwed up, and fat tears dripped down it's face.

"Whitefur!" Squirrelfoot hissed from behind him. Whitefur's fur puffed even more as the Twoleg turned its head in their general direction.

"I see it!" He responded. The white tom pressed low to the ground floor, hoping the undergrowth would prevent the thing from seeing his fur. He watched as it wailed, cradling its arm close to its chest. "I think... I think its injured."

"What do we do?" Squirrelfoot hissed in his ear.

"Well it definitely can't stay here," Whitefur stated, "It's scaring off all the prey. We need to move it somehow." He watched as it sniffled and wiped its nose with one large paw- the seemingly uninjured one. The next gust of wind brought the pungent scent of blood in their direction.

Squirrelfoot stepped forward, sticking his brown head out from the fronds they were hiding under. Both toms froze as the Twoleg's eyes locked on them. It even stopped wailing.

"What now?" Squirrelfoot hissed.

Whitefur stepped up beside Squirrelfoot, mind racing. "If it's a kit then its mother might come to look for it and that's dangerous. We need to bring it to the nearest Twoleg Place and hope that's where it is from." He felt a pang of panic race through his blood. The last thing they needed was full grown Twolegs running through the forest.

Squirrelfoot looked at him as if he were mad. "And how do you propose we do that?"

Whitefur scanned the clearing. "We both know the nearest Twoleg Place is at the end of the border. What we need to do is make it head towards the Twoleg Place. They are pretty mobile as kits I think; we can probably lure it near there."

Squirrelfoot looked uncomfortable. "Lure it?" He peered first at the kit, then at Whitefur.
"Do you want to take the lead on this one?"

Whitefur gave the FeatherClan tom a sidelong glance but stepped forward obligingly. "Twoleg kits are known to love cats. They always run after them. If I'm right, we can slowly lure the kit by pretending to let it touch us, then enticing it to move to Twolegplace." The white tom let out a breath, steeling his nerves before jumping out. "Hello Twoleg!" He mewed loudly.

He stood, legs tensed waiting for any signal that the kit was going to move. It blinked at them slowly before extending its uninjured paw forward. He retreated a couple of steps, watching.

Whitefur felt his fur stand on end as the kits huge paw reached for him. He let it come very close but at the last second he backed up. The kit let out a gurgle and moved to get to its feet.

"Looks like it's working," Squirrelfoot murmured, staring up at the Twoleg kit. It wobbled slightly as it stood on its hind legs, reaching towards them.

Whitefur almost let out a whimper as it almost grabbed him on its third swipe. "Point me to Twolegplace," he hissed to Squirrelfoot. The gray tom flicked his tail towards the north. They would have to travel along the borderline between FeatherClan and HollyClan to get there.

"Better get moving," he said, scurrying out of the kit's reach.

Whitefur almost tripped over a branch as he moved backwards, waving his tail enticingly. The kit seemed to have forgotten about its pain for the moment, but the wound still bled slightly. "I hate this." he grumbled as the kits paws actually brushed through his fur. It reached towards Squirrelfoot for a pet, but he darted out of the way just in time and the kit's paws grabbed at the air above his tail.

The kit gurgled happily, turning its attention back to Whitefur. They were only a couple of foxlengths from where they had started and the sun was already slowly beginning to sink behind the treeline.

"We won't be back until moonhigh at this rate," Squirrelfoot grumbled.

"As long as we get this away I don't care if it takes all night." Whitefur groaned as the kit suddenly tripped, falling with a heavy thud. Its face screwed up and became red as it let out a piercing wail. It startled Squirrelfoot, and scared all the prey in the area into scurrying away desperately.

Squirrelfoot raced over to the kit. "We need to quiet it down," he meowed over his shoulder. The Twoleg glanced up at him, though its face remained red. "Oh, alright," he said, padding closer. He swished his bushy tail, flinching slightly as it brushed over the Twoleg's face. The wailing turned into gurgles.

Whitefur moved forward to stand with Squirrelfoot. "It's ok little kit. Lets keep going." The kit didn't seem to be responding to his mews this time. Whitefur had known that Twolegs were rather mouse-brained but he didn't realize it was so severe. "Let's go!" he began sharply, then froze as his loudness made its face scrunch up again. "Oh mousedung," he cursed as it became upset again.

"I have an idea," Squirrelfoot said. Whitefur watched as his gray friend stepped forward and brushed his tail over the kit's shoulder. It brightened immediately, becoming even happier as Squirrelfoot brushed his side against it.

Whitefur followed Squirrelfoots' lead, brushing against the kit on its other side. Soon it stopped wailing, sniffling once more even as it moved to touch them. When Whitefur darted out of the way it began gurgling in frustration, face turning an angry red. With trepidation, Whitefur realized what he had to do.

"I hate myself right now." he told Squirrelfoot. Then with a deep breath, he allowed the kit to finally grab him. It used its injured hand to touch his fur, and Whitefur once again marveled at how mouse brained that was. The kit was just hurting itself further. Yet it seemed happy, and more importantly, it had stopped wailing. It reached towards Squirrelfoot as well, but he jumped out of the way hastily.

"I think I'll lead the way," Squirrelfoot said with a squeak.

Whitefur let out a string of curses as the kit lifted him up and waddled after Squirrelfoot. Now that it had one cat in hand, the greedy kit was moving much faster after the gray tom and in no time at all they were near Twoleg Place.

"Ok enough of that." Whitefur groaned and with a skillful wiggle he jumped out of the kits arms. When he was eye level with Squirrelfoot once more, he shook his fur out until it puffed comically. "Promise me you will not speak of word of this to anyone." He hissed

"On my ancestors in StarClan," the tom replied, though he could not keep his whiskers from twitching.

Whitefur was convinced that Squirrelfoot was lying through his teeth but just when he was going to say something, he felt the stomp of a large Twoleg. It was quickly followed by a cry of relief. "Hide!" Whitefur advised. He darted under a nearby bush, crouching to allow the ferns to cover his fur. Squirrelfoot joined him a moment later, and they sat under the fronds with their breath held with anxiety.

Together, they watched as the large Twoleg swept the kit into its arms, cooing all the while. Whitefur watched the reunion with pride, satisfied that they had kept their Clan safe from Twoleg disturbance.

"Looks like our mission is over," Squirrelfoot whispered.

Whitefur turned his head subtly to look at the FeatherClan cat beside him. He felt an almost companionship with the tom next to him after this little adventure. For all his arrogance and his sharp tongue, he wasn't awful. More tolerable than some cats in his own Clan, even. "Let's get back before our Clanmates miss us." He said.

They padded back towards their initial meeting spot. All Whitefur could smell was the thick scent of twoleg blood. Some had rubbed off on his pelt, but it was late enough that Whitefur was reluctant to stop and clean it off. He cast his mind for something to say to distract himself.
"You did very good today. You were very innovative and quick on your paws." he praised Squirrelfoot.

Squirrelfoot twitched his whiskers with pride in response. "Thank you, but I couldn't have done it on my own. You were the braver one of the two of us."

Whitefur flicked his tail. "Sure I let it touch me, but when I almost messed this all up you were the one to fix it with your quick thinking."

"If only FeatherClan could see me that way," the tom replied dejectedly. Whitefur studied the other tom, noting how his gaze remained firmly to the ground.

"Perhaps you need to convince them that you are ready to try again," the white tom let a smirk cross his face. "You can start with this. I won't even get mad if you embellish it to favor yourself." The FeatherClan Warrior had earned it.

Squirrelfoot perked up. "Really? I mean, I'm sure our versions wouldn't quite match up if I 'embellished' it." Whitefur's whiskers twitched.

"Well, all we have up to is tell the truth. We heard the Twoleg kit, you scented it out, i realized we needed to bring it back and you had the genius idea to use ourselves as bait for it."

Squirrelfoot mulled the story over. "I guess you're right." There was a moment of pause. "Thanks for working with me."

Whitefur swished his tail. "It was a pleasure." He turned to the younger cat. "I do apologize for what I said. Not only was it uncouth for a cat of my age and stature, it was mean. And very unlike me."

Squirrelfoot's whiskers twitched. "It's alright, nothing to lose fur over." Whitefur noted as the other tom headed towards his own border. "I'm honoured to have worked alongside a warrior such as yourself but I think we should be getting back to our Clanmates now." It was getting rather late. The last rays of sunlight were already disappearing as they spoke.

Whitefurs whiskers twitched in amusement as the warrior moved away from him. "Don't be a stranger at the Gatherings." Whitefur ordered before disappearing into his territory. He didn't look back.

Whitefur got a few fox-lengths into his territory before he was hounded by a worried patrol of cats.

"Where in the world have you been? It's been a long time. And why is there blood on your pelt?" Spottedfern fretted. Whitefur shook out his pelt, a smirk crossing his face.

"I was making a friend."

Word Count: 2854