Acornkit was four moons old when the attack happened.
Sure, WindClan and ThunderClan weren’t allies at the time. But was an attack really worth it?
“Wake up and come with me!” a voice, along with a stinky breath, spat in Acornkit’s ear briskly. Acornkit awoke with a start and stared at his mother. Dovecry lashed her tail impatiently and nodded over to the back of the nursery. “Come on, we have to get going. Now,” she added sharply.
A sharp cry echoed through the air outside the nursery. Shivers crept down Acornkit’s spine like a hunting warrior. “What’s.... what’s going on?” he stuttered nervously, burying his muzzle into Dovecry’s soft gray fur.
Dovecry, who didn’t accept any nonsense in a serious situation, muttered, “ThunderClan is attacking. Just stay quiet and follow my every direction.”
An attack? A real battle? Excitement pricked in Acornkit’s paws, but he remained quiet and let his mother lead him into the far-back part of the WindClan nursery- used only for emergencies and protection. It would take the enemy cats longer to get back there and more time for the WindClan queens to plot their miniature raid.
Fur brushed against his tail, and Acornkit turned to see Weedstep herding her litter after them, and behind her Oakleaf carrying precious Morningkit in her jaws. Morningkit, unlike any other kit, was of course fine with her mother still carrying her like that at two moons old. Why couldn’t she complain just once?
Once all the queens and kits reached the rear of the den, Oakleaf set down her daughter and quickly wrapped her tail around her. “I do wish I could fight,” she sighed sadly, keeping almost silent though.
“WindClan has been short on warriors lately.” the auburn she-cat continued.
Acornkit saw his chance and shoved himself out of his mother’s fur. “I can help battle!” he exclaimed, tail waggling.
Fastkit and his littermates whimpered and shoved themselves deeper against Weedstep.
“Well, you didn’t help with that,” joked Dovecry, who ignored her son, and gave Acornkit a warning glance then dragged him back with her.
Oakleaf only shrugged and grinned, but her grin didn’t last long as a scream was cut off by the scratching sound of claws ripping fur, skin, muscle, then bone...
“ThunderClan or us have lost a warrior,” Weedstep murmured, licking shaking brown Smallkit to calm him.
Acornkit stared around the cramped space and met Morningkit’s gaze. Worry flashed across the dark gray kit’s eyes, but was almost instantly replaced with confidence.
Like she could hurt a flea, Acornkit thought with scorn.
A bloody figure appeared at the entrance of the den. Littlekit shrieked, and his long fur got entangled in his mother’s claws.
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