A Clowder of Chaotic Cats [Seasonal Prompt] [AW]

She padded lightly through the moorland, eyes scanning the miasmic surroundings, fog swirling about her legs as she passed. It was her usual patrol, though each one she made certain to vary, never going to the same spot more than one time in a row. She hoped that such an unpredictable patrol would make any scouts from other packs or loner bands unable to be sure of a time that would be perfect for a raid.

On this circuit, she ventured fifty feet out from the wall, outside pack borders, nose questing for any fresh trails of other wolves, wolves that didn’t belong, or members of her own pack, or members of their neighbors.

She’d been observing from a respectful distance, assessing the best way to approach the alphess. No doubt there were likely members of this new pack that had been watching Valhalla just as carefully. Unlike the days where Arian’s Pack had dwelled upon the lake, and Surreal’s small family had settled in the Plains, before Hellstrom had been foolish enough to claim the Plains, this pack was no sister-pack.

Thus far, she had not decided on what she wanted from this new pack. A non-aggression Treatise would be a minimum requirement, at the very least. She wanted no hecklers stirring up trouble, not while her own numbers were so low and quiet.

She was at war with herself. On the one paw, those lands had been some she would have liked to claim eventually, to add to Valhalla’s… empire? On the other, one of her closer inspections of the new pack’s scent told her the Alphess was pregnant. To siege the pack in which dwelt a new litter of pups, just starting their lives…

Her head shook firmly. No. She wouldn’t bring war upon their neighbors’ heads, not without proper provocation, and not while there would be young children whose lives would be utterly shattered by any upheaval such as a challenge or a siege in which their pack was the loser.

Her eyes dropped to the ground at her paws as a fresh trail of scent caught her nose and she paused, bending to analyze the scent more thoroughly. Cat. Both her father and Loshir had been sure to teach her the smell, and she knew it from Princess, Gwen’s old companion. This wasn’t her.

She shifted her path, following it as it grew gradually stronger. A bristling, rasping hiss brought her eyes up and she froze—not in fear, but in surprise. A massive gathering of cats lay or sat, sprawled on the ground, all glaring at her. Calicos, tabbies, whites, Vans, fluffies, shorthairs… And all colors of eyes, but they all shared a similar menace and lack of welcome.

A particularly repugnant looking white cat, his nose pushed in, breath rasping through constricted nostrils stalked closer, long fur puffed out in all directions. That was about the only warning the Spirit got, as cats suddenly streamed in from all around her, caterwauling and screeching challenging cries as she suddenly found herself buried under twenty buzz-saws.

Aurielle gave a snarl of alarm, shocked at the aggression of the little creatures as she snapped and lashed out at them, catching one and killing it with a surge of twisting regret in her heart. However true it was that they had attacked first, she didn’t like killing these creatures.

A scratch of claws over her face sent her eyes clamping shut against any other sharp pawfuls as she shook violently, sending several cats tumbling in a heap of screeching, yowling fur and rageful hisses as she barreled forward—regrettably right into the lot of the rest of the cats.

It was cats there, cats here, cats everywhere, hissing scratching, biting and screeching at every part of her they could reach as the cats that had been thrown off were replaced by a fresh wave, and she growled in pain as she felt more pin-pricks sinking into her hips and shoulders.

Another hard shake and she reared, twisting on her back paws to face the way she’d come, more cats flying from her frame and tumbling into the writhing morass. She snapped again, hoping to scare the cats off, and a screech of pain throbbed over her ear-drums as she struck home with her canines, and a cat streaked away into the heather and lavender of the moor.

She snapped again, feeling a wriggling furry body squirm in her jaws, stiffen as her jaws snapped shut, and go limp as blood filled her mouth and regret swelled in her heart as she threw the limp body away and threw herself forward at a dead run, snarling and snapping, felling felines and scattering others, running blind as she kept her eyes tightly clamped shut against the pawfuls of claws.

And then it was suddenly quiet, the cats melting away into the moorland mists. She slowly came to a stop, panting heavily as she tried to wrap her mind around the events she’d just experienced. A short, hysterical laugh escaped her as she sank to the ground, gulping down a breath. Give me an army of those and no pack could stand against Valhalla…

The thought whisked through her mind and out, just one of many swirling thoughts as she regained her wits and stood up, shaking her head and taking a look at the damages. She bore a multitude of scratches and marks that all stung but weren’t life threatening.

”What happened to you, Moon Child?”

Aelloshir’s gruff voice was a mix of exasperation and alarm as the big cat bounded into sight, clearly drawn a little too late by all the noise. Heavens and Spirits, if he’d heard, what had the neighbors heard? She straightened her spine and glanced over her shoulder after the cats, long gone from the immediate area by now.

“A very angry clowder of trouble.”

But when they reached the place where the rest of the cats had been… nothing but the scents remained.

Word Count: 1000 words

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think