The Queer Tribe

The Queer Tribe

Aceheart murmured slightly as a paw softly brushed against her back, ruffling her purple and black fur. Her tail twitched at the tickle that raced across her spine as the paw moved away again. A quiet “sorry,” reached her ears, though she wasn’t sure if it had been actually another cat or just the mumble of the air. The ferocious wind, which had forced them into a circle of bushes the previous evening, seemed to have given way to a warm breeze, so leaves no longer rustled loudly.
The dark-furred cat murmured again as her sleep-clouded mind slowly processed the facts, before she blinked her eyes open. Gleaming yellow orbs swirled around the clearing, searching for who had disturbed her rest. Just a quivering bush and light pawsteps answered, but it was enough to spike her curiosity and chase away any remaining sleep.
Rolling over from her position spread out on her back, Aceheart silently got to her paws. With careful steps, she nimbly padded out from the middle of the pile of slumbering cats. Head low and ears pressed back to avoid being scratched by stray thorns, the purple-pawed she-cat ducked into the opening in a bramble bush. Thorns raked through her fur, catching on a few tufts that she would need to groom out later, as she pulled herself into the open.
Faced with open space of the forest, she arched her back upward, sinking her claws into soft dirt and leaves and pulling each muscle into a long stretch. Then, she placed her forepaws as far in front of her as she could, before pulling back, closing her eyes and letting out a quiet yawn as she felt her legs relaxing from being in the same position for so long. As she stood up again and stretched her back legs behind her, Aceheart was already looking for signs of where the missing cat had gone.
Opening her mouth, she tasted the air, breathing in the scents of fresh and dry leaves, wet dirt and a certain freshness in the air that was always left behind by rain. She also caught a faint scent trail of a feline recently passing through. The smell was sharp and thick, along with the distinctive scent of birds. Biclaw. Aceheart shook her head slightly, whiskers twitching in amusement. He may be the best at climbing trees and catching birds even in mid-flight (thanks to his strong legs and agile shape), but he was almost hopelessly easy to track.
Aceheart trotted lightly along a trail left in the undergrowth, consisting of bent and snapped twigs, flattened leaves and pawsteps left in mud. In no time, she found herself at the edge of a small clearing, hesitation pricking her ears and making her fur stand on end. In front of her, eyes never leaving the dark sky, sat the form of her brother in all but blood. Biclaw’s ears were pressed back against his head in grief and his tail was protectively wrapped around his paws as he continued to sit in the wet grass despite his constant trembling.
Aceheart gazed at him sadly, well aware of what he was thinking and unsure if she should interrupt or not. But when another furious shiver racked across his body and he fluffed out his matted purple-red pelt in an attempt to chase away the biting cold, she decided to stay. Moving silently like a shadow, she slowly stepped out into the moonlight and padded over to Biclaw. She gave a small wordless mew to get his attention, which prompted the other cat to jump to his feet with a startled yowl.
The she-cat flinched at the sound, remembering that her dark black-and-purple pelt made it easy to move unnoticed, unlike the bright colors of her denmates. Wide azure eyes snapped to her and taut muscles released tension as she was recognized as a friend instead of an enemy. The tom settled back down with nothing more than a slight glare, not responding to her presence.
Sighing, she closed the distance between them before he could look back up and bumped her forehead into his in greeting. Biclaw responded similarly, pushing his head against hers and then down the side to her neck as Aceheart sat on her haunches next to him. She brushed her shoulder into his and he leaned into the touch, accepting both the comfort and warmth she provided.
They were quiet for only a moment, before Biclaw asked gently: “Do you remember them?”
Aceheart closed her eyes as memories flashed in her mind. She knew he was referring to the group of cats that they have grown up with for the first moons of their lives. Unfortunately, they had made their camp too close to the Rocky Mountains and had suffered an attack by Phobes, ruthless creatures that looked like a cross between a cat and a lizard.
“Of course I do.” She said. “I can remember them like it was yesterday.”
Biclaw lifted his gaze and searched the stars again. “Do you think they’re hunting with StarClan?”
“Yes. Away from all the Phobes forever.” Biclaw nodded absently to her words.
“Do you remember how Interfern had to crawl into the nursery to wake me up nearly every day?” He questioned again. He knew it pained Aceheart as much as it pained him to think back to then, but he needed to hear someone else confirm that they still remembered.
“Yes. The entrance was always lined with yellow fur. Sometimes even a patch of purple. Like yours, you always said.” She answered, letting him know there was someone that will listen, at any time.
“Yeah, they were so kind. There was always fresh-kill for us thanks to Interfern.” Biclaw meowed, his voice trailing off as he stopped tracing patterns in the lighting sky and forcefully pushed his muzzle into Aceheart’s shoulder, breathing deeply to loose himself in the scent and warmth of a familiar strong friend. His tail tightened around his legs, even when the she-cat gently placed a paw on his and burrowed her chin between his ears. She knew he needed to let out all the thoughts he had been holding in.
“And Polystream. She was the strongest warrior. You remember, right?” He breathed, his voice quiet but with a certain strength.
“She always believed that experience was the best way to learn.” Aceheart said, picturing the large black-red-and-blue she-cat in her mind. She had been an intimidating sight and was tough on all cats, but she did so with golden intentions. She believed that being protected from everything one moment then suddenly thrust into the harsh world was crueler than having a hard time from the start.
“Yeah. I remember when I was stuck on a tree once and she was the only one around.” Biclaw meowed softly, closed eyes wide with memories. “She refused to go up to get me and I ended up falling down. But it taught me to always test every branch.”
“And her fur was so fluffy and warm on leaf-bare nights.” Aceheart reminded tenderly as his red-tipped ears drooped down and he gritted his teeth to swallow back an oncoming flow of words and recollections. “She, Cisflower and Homopatch would often disappear for so long and we would whine about not getting to snuggle to her. Like you and Gayleaf do now.”
“Oh StarClan, Homopatch.” Biclaw whispered, sorrow and age-old happiness coloring his words. “The mouse-brained positive caring idiot. I don’t remember even a single time when she had anything other than a bright fact to say.”
Aceheart raised her head a little to give the shivering purple cat a long lick between his ears. She didn’t say anything at first, simply wrapping her own tail around the broken tom. It pained her beyond any scratch or wound to see him so distressed. She nuzzled his shoulder with her nose as he moved his head to rest under her throat. “She had lived without a front leg. If that didn’t darken her spirit, nothing ever could. After all, she was a gifted hunter and surrounded by accepting and supporting cats.”
Biclaw nodded mutely, grief making him unable to meow. Aceheart, seeing that he was slowly calming down, even though he was quiet, continued to meow gently. “Remember her ears?” The tom moved his head to let it rest more comfortably in Aceheart’s chest fur, nearly disappearing in the cloud of black. “They were curled forward. Polystream would often say it made her look cute like a kit.”
Biclaw’s throat seized up and a small whimper fought past his lips. Hearing it, Aceheart tentatively moved her muzzle in slow circles in soft purple fur. River-blue eyes opened and Biclaw let out a quiet wail. “And my sibling.” He choked out, eyes glistening with sadness. “They never got past their gray pelt.”
His foster sister’s chest rumbled soothingly. “Yeah. I remember when them, me and Gayleaf were still oblivious to who we were. Just a little ball of gray fur getting under everyone’s paws.” Aceheart laughed slightly, a breathy sound echoing through the forest. Biclaw nodded in agreement, chest purring as happy memories flashed behind his eyelids.
Slowly, without him realizing, everything faded. The wind rustling branches and leaves stilled and silenced. The smells of pines and after-storm freshness left his nose slowly, until he didn’t even need to breathe. Aceheart’s soft fur brushing his head seemed to have disappeared like the stars at sunrise. All that was left was a scentless, silent, empty darkness. It was comforting.
His mind caught up with the thought and he jerked to attention in surprise. His shock faded instantly and he opened his mouth in a wide smile. He looked around, seeing a hollow on one side framed by tall oval boulders and a wall of dirt on the other. Above, he could see the shadow of massive mountains with jagged, pointed peaks. The air was much colder, but he didn’t mind. He was where he belonged.
Excited meows caught his attention and he turned his head to look behind him, nearly tripping over his small paws at the speed. A trio of she-cats was walking side-by-side on the slippery rocks that bordered the camp. They were talking rapidly, their voices melding into one. Suddenly, the biggest of them, a huge fluffy black cat with blue and red stripes, let out a startled yowl as she placed her paw wrong and slipped down from the flat stone and onto the ground with a squeak. Bikit caught his breath as terror cursed through his body when the she-cat didn’t move. His fear was unfounded, however, when the other two she-cats, one pink-striped blue and the other rainbow-spotted white with flopped black ears, only yowled with amusement and leaped down onto the downed feline and started a three-way play-fight.
He breathed a sigh of relief, only to have the air knocked out of him when a force tackled him from behind. He pawed blindly at the offender as they both tumbled over the dirt floor. In the mess, his small teeth caught onto a stiff short tail and he bit down. A paw stepped on his muzzle in response and he was forced to let go. Wiggling as much as he could with a weight placed on top of him, he managed to look upward and straight into two gray faces. He broke into another grin as he recognized the younger siblings, kits of the hollow’s newest mates, Trisong and Bipool.
If he focused, he could hear the two aforementioned cats holding a quiet conversation nearby. He giggled inwardly as the names flashed in his mind. Tri meant three and Bi meant two, he reasoned, so where was their number one? He didn’t bother wondering about it longer, instead fully absorbed in trying to overpower the younger cats currently pinning him down and showing how strong he was. He would beat them all!
Aceheart sighed softly as she felt her foster brother’s breathing even out and deepen, signifying his slip into sleep. Gently shifting herself, she placed his head on the ground, where he reflexively curled into a circle. She considered waking him and going back to the others, but one look at his relaxed face had her discarding such thoughts.
A wide yawn split her jaws and her eyes blinked wearily. Standing up and pulling backwards in a stretch, she padded down the grass beneath her paws and curled around the sleeping tom. She settled her head on his neck and prepared to go to sleep. A snap of a branch pulled her straight back to the waking world. Ears twisting and eyes flickering around for danger, she almost missed the flash of bright blue as it disappeared into the forest, closely followed by the rapid flapping of a startled bird.
Grumbling about annoying jays, she laid her head down, not giving the incident another thought. She never wondered why the single flapping of wings had been followed by the unmistakable cry of a crow and not a jay.