Lost and Found[Ghost/Kenya + OPEN!]

The salt in the air was so thick that Ismo could almost swear he could taste it. From the description Quinn had given him of their destination, he didn't figure they were in the right location. But he was beginning to not care where this journey took him. With the clans utter distaste for outsiders, he would likely never find a clan leader willing to accept him. Een if they did, what then? Quinn was against living amongst the clans and the thought of being apart from her was something Ismo couldn't fathom. Her constant company after two moons left him wondering what life would be like without it. Her graceful and confident movements, her smooth coat and those blue eyes that seem to capture his very soul...no, being called a Loner isn't such a bad thing after all.

Wait...why did Quinn stop? "Hang on, boys." He could sense the unease in her voice. Ismo's pupils narrowed and his muscles tensed. "Quinn! Ismo!" Star's outburst nearly made Ismo leap around. As the young clan cat made his run towards the water Ismo followed in his paw prints and quicky nabbed the ginger youth by the neck before he reached his goal. Ismo placed him next to a thick bush and stood between Star and the ocean.

"Now Little One, this is no time to explore. Normally I would encourage your curiousity but it would be better now to learn a few lessons. Lesson one; silence is always a great weapon. You missed your squirrel despite your silence but instead of remaining so, and trying to gain another vantage point you announced your position further and gave up pursuit. Silence also helps when you are in a territory you do not know and are unfamiliar to the dangers. That leads us to lesson two; always observe your entire surroundings before making any move out into the open for any reason. Just as you were hunting your squirrel, something else could be hunting us. So for now, let us be silent and remain the hunters." Ismo leaned down and gave Star a playful nudge with his nose. "But you were very close to catching your prey and I am proud of you for that!"

Ismo padded over to Quinn, keeping his eyes roaming their surroundings. "What is wrong, my dear?"     

Quinn seemed to snap out of whatever panic-induced trance she was in at the tones of her boy’s voices. She’d grown so close to the two toms that she hardly ever felt the need to switch on and off her protective masks. When she needed to appear calm and in control, she had failed in that moment.

The Snowshoe she-cat was comforted by Ismo’s closeness. She passed her muzzle across Ismo’s cheek and breathed the familiar scent of his fur, feeling her worries melt away like drops of rain water falling from a leaf. Star pushed between them, dragging her attention away.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn mewed. “I don’t think we’re safe here.” She nodded at Ismo’s suggestion. “That’s a good idea. I’ll explain more on the way, we just need to find a place where we’re not so exposed.” She got to her paws and gestured for them to follow, but couldn’t shake the feeling that there were more than two sets of eyes on her.

Diesel padded along the shore, the salty foam of the waves brushing past his paws at an even pace, keeping the sand wet and cool. He had dragged the Fledgling Sledder out of Raider’s Run for some training. The smart-mouthed young tom had a habit of unintentionally picking fights with all of the wrong cats, and finding himself on the wrong end of their furious claws.

Diesel didn’t know if Sledder was some kind of masochist or just plain stupid, but it didn’t do the Fledgling any good to be smacked around so much that he wasn’t fit for training. Not that Diesel would go easy on him, the apple green-eyed tom just preferred his comrades to be mostly whole—physically and mentally. Already, the harsh trainings had changed the Fledgling brothers Talon and Kite into something else entirely. He didn’t want to think about that.

The older Raider had Sledder running through the hot sand in the middle of the beach. The heat was without a doubt painful to the sensitive pads, but quick, jerking motions of the paws would only make a cat run in place. Strong, fluid movements were needed to make headway through the sand. It was a good exercise for a sarcastic brat like Sledder.

Flashes of motion ahead caught Diesel’s attention. He turned his wide head toward the source. An apprentice-sized tom with fur the color of a fox’s pelt streaked toward the water, and, close on his tail, a massive beige tom sprinted after him. Moving quickly before they could be spotted, Diesel ran up the beach toward forest cover, cuffing Sledder about the ear to get the Fledgling to follow into a thick copse of ferns. He crouched low in the shadows, eyes flashing. “Tell me, Sledder,” he whispered, barely audible, “what do you see?” The Raider wanted to see how Sledder could assess the situation before they accosted the intruders.

Ismo's skin lit on fire as Quinn rubbed against his cheek. A massive shiver ran down his fur as he breathed in deep, inhaling Quinn's sweet, soft scent; but froze solid as something very odd added itself to the mix. He took in another whiff and that scent was still there, but faint. Damn being a foreigner! Not knowing the smells of these lands were beginning to become a pain in Ismo's stubby tail. His hackles rose and his claws extended and retracted. He turned to Star as the young cat finally voiced his continued desire to explore.

"This is not a time to act like a kit Little One. Although you have not been initiated as an apprentice, you are of age and must have an attitude to match. One day, maybe we can return here but for now it is not safe. We might be in serious danger and we need to leave now. No arguments, no debates. You will follow Quinn and her instructions without question. A good warrior, whether from my land or one of your clans, must know when to follow orders. Do you understand?" Ismo looked hard at the clan cat, leaving all softness and patience from his eyes. He shifted his gaze to Quinn, letting a little warmth flow into the previously cold silver.

"The burrow was in that direction," Ismo tilted his head back towards a thicket of trees and brush deeper in the woods, barely visible in the distance. "You lead, keep Star close. I will follow a few fox lengths behind and keep an eye out for whatever may be out here. Something is wrong but I can't tell what...Star!" Ismo's attention flew back to his young companion. "Remember, silence is key. It means life, or if you fail...death."

He wished he didn't have to be so serious with the young cat, but Ismo felt it was his duty to teach this would-be-apprentice. And in lands like these, lessons must be learned quickly, so maybe putting fear in Star would help with that; tempering his wild spirit could save his life one day.

Sledder's sharp tongue had gotten him in trouble again. Diesel's paw slammed down onto him with a force that kept him silent no matter what he did. The pain of his claws burned though him and Sledder struggled to get loose. When Diesel finally let him go, he slowly got back to his paws and gave his wound a few swift licks as the blood soaked through his short silver fur. He held back the growl in his throat as he moved into position to wait for Diesels signal. Sledder flattened himself against the ground, gritting his teeth agaisnt the stinging in his flank.

Sledder stared intently forward, and bunched his mucles as Deisel confronted the strangers. He eyed them, and heeding Deisel's advice watching the cats movements for signs of weakness. The kittypet was lean, with a worn collar. Maybe she wan't a kittypet. All three seemed to hold their own. In a few heart-beats Sledder had worked out his own plan. With the signal came, he was ready. Sledder burst out of his hiding place straight for the she-cat. The young tom would be to easy, and the older cat would be far to much of a match for him. Sledder hit her with teeth and claws, grabbing her throat and knocking her from her paws. She was even smaller up close. With his jaws secured around her throat, he let his claws rake from her shoulder to her back leg, turned her fur the same blazing red as his own back leg was now.

He released his grip from her throat and replaced it with his reddened claws to keep her still. Turned his head, he hissed at the ginger tom warnng him to stay back or he would receieve worse. That cat was no more then a kit! Small, defenseless. He would be an easy match, not that the she-cat was any better. "I wouldn't move if I were you" He whispered, bending his head so only she could hear. "My. What nice feathers." Sledder's jaws clamped onto two of them, snapping them easily in his jaws. The fluttered to the earth, broken. His silver tail flicked back and forth with smug pride as he gazed triumphently at the large tom and Diesel. One move from him and she'd be dead before he would reach her. His jaws parted in a wicked grin as he gave a blood-stained paw a swift lick. Looking back to the other raider, he waited for further instruction, one eye and ear to the two toms. He would not mess this up. This would be his chance to show the other raiders what he could do. That he could spill blood as efficently as them. That he was unafraid, strong. His claws pressed down tighter on her throat as he invisioned himself being a captian.

When Sledder leapt out of the darkness on cue, Diesel relaxed his tensed muscles and dropped his act.

He met Ismo’s furious silver eyes with indifference. Maybe, if Ismo had threatened a lesser Raider, they would have been intimidated into retreating. But Diesel was utterly apathetic. He would have laughed at Ismo’s ignorance, calling him a “Warrior” and assuming he cared what happened to Sledder. Little deterred Diesel from his work, even at the risk of his life. He commended the loner for trying to appear calm, but Diesel knew better.

Diesel was in control of this situation.

The dullest kit could see the feelings that the two older loners had for one another. And while he doubted these beige- and brown-hued adults could have sired the little flame-colored tom, the young cat was obviously as important to Ismo as any kin.

That was Ismo’s mistake. These were the weaknesses that Diesel wanted Sledder to see. Speaking of which, the swirl-marked Raider spared a glance in the Fledgling’s direction. He groaned inwardly at Sledder’s handiwork, and sent him a glare that clearly said to take it easy. Of course, other prisoners had survived worse (Brodie came to mind), however he hopped the she-cat was still able to walk; they absolutely could not let her die. It was in Diesel’s experience that cats with nothing to lose made remarkably dangerous enemies.

“A move against this ginger kit would leave you open, as would one towards my partner and then I would have you… But there is no clean ending here for anyone if a fight truly starts. The choice is yours; we all die, or we all forget this ever happened.”

Diesel turned slowly back to his larger adversary, the greens of his eyes sharping, becoming icy sheets of malevolence. Grinning, his teeth flashed in the shape of unsheathed cat’s claw that was stretched the width of his shortened muzzle. He backpedaled carefully toward where Quinn, Sledder, and Star were huddled. “No, you see, no one has to die. That decision is entirely up to you,” Diesel meowed. His claws extended and he reached out the remaining tail-length towards the little tom. Snatching Star up was easy enough, despite his squirming. Diesel dragged Star underneath his chest but had to use both front paws to keep the fighting tom subdued. “Stay still,” he warned gruffly, pressing his claws into the thick fur of Star’s scruff.

Diesel looked back up at Ismo. “This is how it’s going to work. You’re going to stay exactly were you are. If I see so much as a whisker twitch in our direction, the she-cat will die.” He flicked an ear in Sledder’s direction. “Please don’t give my energetic, claw-happy friend an excuse to spill more blood. He doesn’t require much motivation to finish the job. She’ll be returned to you if all of you accede completely.” Another wicked grin spilt his jaws. “A Raider’s promise.” His rules set, careful to never remove his gaze away from Ismo, Diesel bent down, attempting to sink his teeth in Star’s scruff. While Star was certainly no kit, Diesel’s shoulder and neck muscles were strong enough to drag him until they had distanced themselves from Ismo.

Quinn smelt blood a heartbeat before Sledder attacked. Swinging around, her tags clanking with a harsh metallic twang, a rush of silver tabby fur exploded in her face. Pain seared through her as the Fledgling’s battle-hardened claws sank into her neck and a hiss died in her throat when her muzzle was thrust into the mixture of soil and sand. Dust particles clouded around them, filling her open mouth and stinging her eyes. Before she could even put up a struggle, Sledder followed up his pounce with vicious swipes of his claws, tearing fur and flesh. Instinctively, she tried to cry out, but instead inhaled more of the grit. Quinn coughed miserably instead, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain.

She imagined she were somewhere else—back in the forest, sleeping, tucked into the warmth of Ismo’s comforting flank with Star slumbering against her other side—until the Fledgling’s onslaught ended. Her injuries burned with such ferocity that she didn’t dare move; she barely heard Sledder’s warning.

Heart sinking, Quinn watched two of her precious feathers—the cardinal and a blue jay’s—float in broken spirals to the ground. Seeing the symbols of her lost friends being destroyed in front of her hurt her more than any physical wound.

Ismo and Diesel began to converse, but it was hard to concentrate. She focused on Star’s fiery pelt and brown eyes. “I’m alright,” she mewed hoarsely, as quietly as she could, “just stay calm for me, okay?” She wished desperately that she could see Ismo, but her neck was held immobile, and she could only catch glimpses of his scale-marked fur when she strained her peripherals.

When Diesel grabbed Star, Quinn instinctively bucked, blood streaming down her pelt, and snarled out, “No!” The weight of the Fledgling atop her back and the extent of her injuries sent her crashing right back down to the ground, her wounds burning and straining against the tender flesh. The Showshoe she-cat breathed heavily through her nose, watching Star with terror gripping her heart.

She needed to calm down. Stay objective. Find a way out, a way to help Star or to make an opening for Ismo. She just…needed to wait. She prayed that Ismo would not do anything rash.