The Clan Renaissance

An Alternate Universe Warriors Roleplay

A few days after meeting with Shellspots, Finch and Robin made their way around the river, crossing into the hillier part of the plains. By now, the moore stretched out ahead of them, an open expanse of endless sky. Her head was held high, knowing that they were so close to the ancestral land of WindClan. So close… But after Robin’s complaints about feeling tired or hunger, Finch finally gave in and took the two of them to a twolegplace where there’d hopefully be food.

This twolegplace was different from the one Finch and Robin came from. Rather than being populated by sleek and silver towers, the twoleg dens were smaller and made of woods. There was also a lot more room to walk, and large fields of cultivated plants that seemed bigger than the herbs found in the twoleg gardens from their old home. It wasn’t difficult to find a small, abandoned twoleg den to take shelter in. And without the constant drone of monsters, Finch found it easier to lay her head down and sleep.

It was the best rest she ever had. She wished she could tell Garlic about how nice it was to sleep here! Oh, to show him how wrong he was…

By the time she woke up, Robin was still asleep. Finch leaned over and licked the top of Robin’s forehead, bidding a silent goodbye. “I’ll be back, my darling.”

Pushing the open the wooden flap of the den, she peered out into the open, the humid air clinging to her neck fur. Pressing her paw in the dirt, she winced as she felt a squelch. The scent of petrichor lay on her tongue. If only the rain had washed away the greenleaf heat, she thought, padding across the grass. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp bark, followed by a high-pitched whine.

Looking across, Finch saw a large dog and a dark brown point, facing each other off, but neither made a sudden move. They were, effectively, frozen in place. She searched the cat’s expression to gauge whether she should intervene or stay out of their business. But padding off without another word felt… off to Finch. She couldn’t just leave the cat alone.

“Back off!” She cautiously approached the dog, ears pinned back, lips drawn into a low hiss. She faced dog before. She knew how to attack them—slashing the nose was their weakest point; a quick blow, and the dog usually backed off. She knew how to stand her ground. But when she was a tail-length away from the dog, she realized how much larger they were. She swallowed.

By now, the dog was aware of Finch, its attention diverted from the other cat. Unfortunately, the dog seemed to have fewer qualms about attacking her, as it gave a loud bark for a warning. She bristled, kept up the hissing, and unsheathed her claws. This was her warning. The dog took that as further proof to make an attack, rushing at Finch with full speed.

“Run!” Finch shouted at the other cat.

Then she stared the dog in the eye, looking hard into its oak brown gaze, then turned to its large nose, and with a raised paw, she brought it down with a slash!

An awful crunching sound promptly occurred afterward. The dog’s grip on her arm released once their nose started bleeding. And then came a howl of pain, and they bolted off in the opposite direction. Finch breathed out a sigh of relief, though the moment was soured by the piercing pain clamping on her forearm. She felt the cool drip of liquid running down her fur. She prayed to the stars above that the wound was not infected…

The stranger appeared before her with wide blue eyes staring up at her fresh wounds.
Finch risked a look down. Was it that bad? Deep teeth imprints were left on her arm fur, blood dripping on to the dirt path beneath.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she said, trying to ease her own nerves. Garlic would have seen nastier wounds, being in the side of twolegplace that was rife with warfare. “I’ve fought dogs before.”

But she never had a dog bitten her so vehemently.

Unsure of where the dog’s mouth had been, she had to assume the wound was infected—the trouble was where she could find the resources to do so. Though Garlic taught her some of what he knew about herbs, he found his herbs from twoleg gardens. Finch wasn’t familiar with horseplace, its twolegs, or its herbs. And from the area she could see, she didn’t spot any horsetail growing at the side of the path.

As she turned to the stranger, she was surprised when they said a “Thank you.” Finch noticed their twitching tail, but decided not to bring it up, believing the cat to still be rattled by the dog. She dipped her head in acknowledgment of the compliment. “I couldn’t stand by and let that dog harass you. I’m Finch, by the way. What’s your name? And do you know where I might find cobwebs or horsetail?”

“Zephyr, you say? It’s a pretty name,” said Finch, managing a smile in spite of the pain from her foreleg.

“Afraid… of something?” she angled her head forward to Zephyr to make sure her ears heard correctly. The short phrase planted a seed of curiosity in her mind, one rife with possibilities, but the most prominent answer tugged at her: why would the dog be afraid?

Finch barked out a laugh, and for a moment, she forgot the pain in her paw. The utter confusion in Zephyr’s pale blue eyes was priceless and it reminded her of a cooing pigeon from twolegplace. Clearly, this cat never used herbs before. Were they a kittypet? “Horsetail is a type of herb. I’ll need it to treat my wound.”

Her blood ran cold at the suggestion of being taken away by a twoleg, and she shook her head abruptly. “I’m not a kittypet. I’m not letting any twoleg touch me. And besides… my kit is still waiting for me in a den nearby. I can’t leave them behind to fend for themself.”

Finch wanted to ask more about the dog’s strange behavior, but the bite wound nagged at her arm, begging for her attention foremost. It would have to be a conversation for later, she supposed.

She was surprised at Zephyr’s understanding toward her distrust to twolegs. She was used to cats being more insistent upon seeking their twolegs out for help. And perhaps she would have considered it, if she hadn’t heard stories of what happened to strays when a twoleg took hold of them. Hopping after Zephyr, careful to avoid stepping on her injured paw, she followed them to the shed.

“Have you seen a reed bed before?” asked Finch. “Horsetail looks a bit like a reed, but its tip looks more like a pinecone. It likes growing in moist areas, but sometimes you can find it on patches at the side of a path. If you’re wondering what it does, horsetail stops wounds from bleeding and prevents infection.”

Glancing down at her bloody leg, she said, “I’m worried most about infection.”

“Horsetail is a relatively common herb. You’ve most likely seen it before,” said Finch, trying to disguise the relief in her voice. If its description sounded familiar to Zephyr, there was hope! She followed Zephyr’s pawsteps. A short period of time afterwards, they arrived at a another twoleg shed. About to ask what was different about this shed, as it looked as identical to the one she and Robin were staying in, until her eyes landed on a large web filling the gap between the slanted wooden plank and the shed’s exterior wall.

“No, these webs will do,” she said, limping over. Though older webs lose their residue quicker than newer ones, these were the most she could use to bandage the wound. She tore off a piece of the web with her jaws and then proceeded to painstakingly wrap the stringy substance over her bleeding wound over and over, until it hugged against her paws tightly. When her work was finished, she nodded at Zephyr.

“Thank you. These should stop the bleeding for now. I might need more cobwebs, but it’s not a pressing issue. I can wait later for strong support. For now, we need to focus on disinfecting the wound by finding horsetail.”

She noticed Zephyr’s interest in her makeshift bandage, and a bemused smile came on her lips. “Never seen a cat with cobweb wrapping before? There are all sorts of ways to treat wounds, though unfortunately, I know about rudimentary treatments. My mate… er, ex-mate now, I suppose, was a healer and he could instantly identify an infection and give you the right herbs to heal it.”

“Sheep fields? What are sheep?” asked Finch, the concern audible in her voice. Were they as big as coyotes or were they small like shrews? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to test fate by walking around those… creatures. She wanted her fur intact.

“I think it’s best to let you go on your own,” she agreed, nodding at her wound. “But will you be able to identify the correct herb?”

“I see,” said Finch. Back in twolegplace, healer cats weren’t too common, especially given that twoleg healers were the ones who picked cats off the streets. She had a friend once who’d gotten a nasty infection from a rat bite, and who had been scooped up by a twoleg and placed in a cage. She never saw them again. “Well, knowing how to treat your own wounds is a good skill to have. Though, I take it you don’t travel much from your home?”

At least, there was a commonality between Finch and Zephyr: neither were cats who strayed from their homes… at least, that’s how it used to be. “I lived in twolegplace for most of my life, and only recently began traveling with my kit.”

Finch absorbed as much information as she could about the “sheep.” She even tried visualizing their appearance, picturing a cloud of fur with black legs. The description was so comical it almost made her laugh. The added description on their behavior reassured her. Like rabbits, skittish, and likes being in a herd. Should she and Robin ever encounter the sheep, Finch would know to keep a distance but wouldn’t have to fear being hunted down by them. “Interesting. Very… matter-of-factly. Well, good luck getting horsetail. I’ll let you know if you brought back the right herb.”

She slowly moved to her left side, shifting the pressure away from her wounded leg. Hopefully, Zephyr would return with horsetail soon.