TW for d*ath and sickness "I am Hazel. Th-this is my story." The rest of the old cat's words were swallowed in coughs, at which Stream interjected, "No, Grandmother, you're too sick. Lie down, eat this-" "NO!" Hazel's eyes flashed, she sat up. For a brief moment she was the young hunter of her kithood that Stream had heard so much about. But the moment passed, and she hunched over, coughing, but determined to continue. "My mother's first love was a tom that I never met, never even knew the name of. He ran off when it was clear she was pregnant, and just as well, as Mother said he was trouble." "Grandmother, please, lie do-" "No, Stream. I don't have much time left, and I want somebody to know." Hazel coughed again, then picked up the story. "Mother's first litter had two kits. A tom, who she named Rowan, and a she-kit, Sunny. Oh, Sunny... Sunny had the yellow pelt of her mother's mother, and Rowan favored his father, with reddish-brown fur. But they both had our mother's eyes: yellow, like mine." Hazel blinked her own and continued. "Sunny chose to stay home, when they started learning to hunt at three moons. She never was good at it. Rowan and Mother combined could feed them, and they were happy. Happy..." Hazel started to retch, at which point Stream said quickly, "All right. That's enough. Close your eyes, go to sleep." "Stream, child, if I do then I'll never wake up," the old molly said wearily. "Mother met someone new when the kits were seven moons old. His name was Stone, and he had dark gray fur and green, green eyes like grass in newleaf. Their litter had three kits: a tom, named Stone, with his father's fur and mother's eyes, a she-kit, Heather, with the whitest fur you ever saw and strange, pinkish eyes. She was the scrawniest thing, the weakest... and me. Hazel. The first, and last, with my mother's brown fur and eyes both." She sighed sorrowfully and went on. "Before we'd even opened our eyes, Stone died. Rowan and him were hunting, and there was a fox, and Rowan wasn't strong enough. He never fully recovered, poor thing... "When we were two moons old, not yet weaned, our dear mother, the first cat Sunny and Rowan had ever known, fell sick. She hadn't recovered from Stone, and soon succumbed. Rock and Heather had already caught it. Not me, though, or Sunny." "What about Rowan?" Stream asked, too caught up in the story to care that she was encouraging her. "He hadn't caught it, luckily. Yet. So Sunny and Rowan had three sick kits to feed, who were not even weaned, still drinking milk, and needed someone to provide milk for them. Sunny went into the twolegplace, returning with a loner who had a kit and needed to feed herself. So Rowan and Sunny hunted for them all, and the kits grew up. "Then, when the loner's kit was fully grown, as well as us, she left. Leaving us. We'd thought that the sickness had left us, but no luck. It had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. Heather's had slowly grown, too slowly to be noticed, and had possibly infected the loner and her kit. We would have warned them, but when we realized this, they were long gone. I never saw them again. Rock's wasn't as bad, he could hunt, but he wasn't quite as fast or strong as us. So Sunny stayed at home and tended to Heather, and the rest of us hunted. By that time Sunny was like my mother. "We expected that Sunny would catch it, as she did. Which was the same time that Heather's exploded. They were feverish and, um, coughed a lot. Sick and getting sicker. Sunny died first, which surprised us, as Heather was so much worse. That-" Here Hazel's voice cracked, and she blinked away tears. "That was hard for me. "Rowan was sick soon, so it was just Rock and I, hunting for ourselves and two sick cats. Every day was painful as they were brought one day, hour, minute, one second away from death. And Rowan died next. Then we were just...waiting for Heather to go. "One day, one of the days when Rock went out hunting and I stayed home, he came home with a strange, tiny cat with a pelt of night. He said that if we joined the black cat, they'd help us heal Heather. We were desperate, Stream. So desperate. We had no choice. If we didn't join him, and stayed in our home, we'd die. So we joined him." "Did they help?" Stream asked. "As much as they could. Barely enough. We were forced to fight others. For the first time. And then the tiny black cat was killed, so we ran back to where Heather had been left and brought her home, where she died. That was the worst part of it all for me." Hazel's eyes were full of pain, as if she was seeing the horrific battle and her sisters and brother dying at the same time. "I had nightmares ever since. Not as frequently anymore, but I have them. Of the battle, and worse things. "We left our home once Heather was buried. I never saw my childhood home again. By then, I was seven moons. I'd fought a major battle, and seen my sister die, at a little over six and a half. We (cont.)
Writing, most chars are mine, with the exception of Scourge The warriors universe is from Erin Hunter 7 Years Old by Lukas Graham I've had Hazel's story in my head for a while, and decided to write it down ig omg I didn't realize how sad it was (cont.) crossed the mountains and found a home in the wildest part, the most tangled piece of forest. And there we lived. Happily, although parts of it were forced. When Rock left home with a she-cat named Grass, we promised each other not to tell our kits of our childhood. It was too much. I grew up, met a tom named Red, we had kits who had a kit. They named you Stream before closing their eyes and dying. And now I'm in their place, and I had to tell you the story. Know this, Stream: Don't let the story die too. Tell your kits of how their great-grandmother fought against an impossibly strong enemy when she was a kit. Don't let it go unheard. Please, Stream. Tell them." "I will," the she-cat said softly. Sighing in relief, Hazel turned her milky gaze to the sky. "I don't know where you are, Rock, but if you're with the stars, then I'll be there soon. I'll be there, Heather, Rowan. Sunny... I'll be there, soon. I'm there," she whispered with her last breaths and closed her eyes. "In battle, that day, I heard someone say as they died, 'And now, for the greatest adventure of all...' Those words are powerful ones, just like I was powerful, suitable for my last ones." "And now," Hazel breathed, opening her eyes and turning them to the one hole in the roof of the den, that dripped water when it rained and snow when it snowed, through which she could see the stars, which to her seemed to be growing larger, or was it that she was coming to them? "for the greatest adventure of all..."