the [growing] storm

[Onyxdart]

There was something wrong. Checkmate was surprised into wakefulness by lots of noise, a kit yelling, people yelling about kits... People yelling about kits?

The tom sprang to his feet, nearly brained himself on the top of the Warriors' Den, and bolted out of the den into the middle of camp, brain jumping whole steps ahead. His nose was in the air, sniffing, already tracking where the kidnappers had gone. Something tugged in recognition, something about the scent, but it was so vague he quickly discarded the thought.

He quickly became sure of one thing- the kits were not in the camp. But from there, he wasn't sure what to do. Go after the kidnappers, with no one else following? That was a bad idea. Waiting until a search went out? That was an equally bad idea. He looked around for someone in charge- Leader, Deputy, heck, he'd take anyone who'd been here long enough to carry some kind of authority. If he was going to make an assertion that the kits weren't in camp, he was going to have proof. He found the scent of kits and strange cats by the bramble exit of the camp.

"They're not in camp! They took them that way," he yowled, hopefully loud enough someone would hear.

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Deepcreek wasn't even in camp when the kits were taken. She was just far enough away to have missed the initial panic when they were found missing, but came darting into camp on the heels of it, tail lashing, puffed up, looking a little confused as to what exactly was going on. But she quickly found out, and without a thought, quicker to act than to think, she was shoving through the brambles, passing a tom who was yelling about where the kits had gone. She had no idea what she'd do if she managed to follow the kidnappers to their source, but she would plan that far when she got there.

Then it occurred to her that she would, in fact, be accomplishing nothing by getting herself beaten or dead by the kidnappers. Standing impatiently on the other side of the bramble exit, she took a deep breath, cementing the smell in her brain, and went back through the brambles. She trotted straight to Bluerage.

"They did leave camp through the brambles. Checkmate was right," she said. Unlike the newer cat, Deepcreek knew that Bluerage stood at least a change of being heard when she spoke.

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[Bluerage]

<sub>Bluerage looked around the nursery. Perhaps they had wandered off? With close examination, she had found Tiercel and Peregrine were missing. Perhaps Tiercel would be likely to wander off, but Peregrine wasn't. She turned to her daughter as she pressed into her mother's flanks blindly. Where were her other 3 kits?

It wasn't long before Checkmate made his announcement. So... They were stolen. With quiet reserve, she put together all the clues she had. Look around, they can't have gotten far! We'd have seen them if they left She barked, not thinking of the back entrance. But Twilightkit slipped forward edgingly, sniffing the blood and fur. It was them, the cat [or cats?] that had intruded. But that was already covered; Deepcreek was quick to approach her on the matter. Bluerage looked around. No Kestrel, no Chasm... She supposed she had to do.

With a fluid leap she was upon the boulder. The thieves went through the thorn passageway, the back route! I want a couple cats to examine the fur in the thorns, and see if you can pick up a trace. I want one or two cats to fetch Kestrel and Chasm. I do not fancy telling them their kits have been taken, but it must be done She commanded. She was no natural leader; she was a quiet assasin. But it had to be done, just like telling the parents.

She turned and trotted towards the barrier, sniffing at the scent. It was unlike any scent she'd smelled [She was never in the war, and wouldn't have even picked up a trace if there was one of BoneClan.] It smelled earthy and stony.... StoneClan. Right? She couldn't imagine it to be StoneClan, for their Clan was naturally reserved. They had had a treaty with Snowstar, anyways. She'd report her findings to Kestrel when she came. Until then... She turned away to ensure her plans were being carried out. She dreaded the thought it could be BoneClan. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be.</sub>

[Kestrel]

The borders were quiet tonight.

Some days brought cats lingering nervously on the outskirts of RisingClan territory, asking tremulously for entrance. Some days brought entire patrols' worth of cats seeking acceptance into the Clan. And some days brought only dust.
This was one such night. There was not one cat for a thousand miles, it seemed; standing on her hilltop, Kestrel's sharp eyes caught not even a hint of movement.

Satisfied, she turned home. There was no trouble to be found here, and no reason she ought to stay even a moment longer. Back in camp, her kits would be awake and playing--and no doubt getting into trouble.

Kestrel gave a soft, fond purr at the idea. Her own kits...would the notion ever cease to suprise her? Would the sight of them, three healthy young cats, ever cease to thrill her? Her own flesh and blood, a little bit her, a little bit Chasm; strong personalities with their own will, moving independantly, cats who would one day stand as tall as her, and perhaps fight--fight for good, fight for justice, make their enemies bleed for their transgressions...no, she doubted her amazement would ever truely wear off.
Tiercel, never afraid to voice his opinions; Peregrine, deeply compassionate; Osprey, independant and forward-thinking. Her kits. Her sons and daughter.
She sped up, shifting into a run that was unflagging and swift as the night winds. Her kits awaited.


The sun had been down for a little while when she finally padded into camp, her pale fur clouded with dust from her running.

Almost instantly, she sensed that something was wrong. A tenseness hung in the air--tenseness that deepened and bordered on panic.

"What's going on?" she called out sharply, her mismatched eyes flitting across the camp.
What could have gone wrong? Whatever had happened, it was certainly not something good; ever hair on her pelt said otherwise. Her senses rarely mislead her.

"Kestrel!" Kanji's voice broke through Kestrel's whirling train of thought.
The RisingClan leader turned, fixing her blind sister in her razor gaze.

The remnants of Kanji's torn ears were pinned back. "Kestrel, I, it's," she stammered, her one blue eye staring blindly ahead. Her ragged coat bristled with fear and anxiety. "Kestrel, your kits--"

Kestrel's blood ran cold.
She whirled, threw herself in the direction of the nursery. "Osprey? Tiercel! Peregrine!" she shouted, ducking into the shadows of the den.
Their scents were there, pinned against the stone walls--but they were not.
Kestrel circled the nursery once, her tail trashing, her mismatched eyes blazing. Then she leaped from the den, looking wildly around her. "Where are they?" she asked, her voice brittle and sharp as ice. In her panic, she did not immediately notice that one of her sons was still in camp.
And again, her voice growing louder and more forceful: "Where are they? Where are my kits?"

[Bluerage]

<sub>Bluerage had her back turned when Kestrel entered, supervising the search of the thorns and the nursery. However, when Kestrel's usually calm, curt and assured voice wafted into the camp, panic on it's fringes, Bluerage's head snapped up, and her blood ran like ice water.

Slowly, she turned her pretty head to face the grey and white leader, ears pinned back. Would Kestrel be angry with her? She had abandoned her post to retrieve her kit, and she had assumed that Kanji and the other nursery hands still had a watch. She hurried over. Best to get it over with, much like a band-aid.

Kestrel Came Bluerage's voice, steady but still frantic. Peregrine, Tiercel, they're missing. They've been kitnapped She said in a soft voice, much like a command. She needed Kestrel to calm down to hear her out.
The thieves came through the back wall in the thorns. They left blood and some fur, gold and brown, but no scent to trace it by after they got out.

The scent itself, it's wild. StoneClan? She inquired, swinging her head to look at the back barricade, as if suggesting Kestrel take a look at it herself.</sub>

[Kestrel]

Kestrel stared at Bluerage, slowly coming to grips with what the she-cat was saying.

Her kits...gone.
Tiercel. Peregrine.
Gone?

"Gone?" Kestrel breathed aloud, her mismatched eyes coming momentarily (and uncharacteristically) unfocused.

Gone. Gone.
Gone.
Gone!
Gonegonegonegonegonegone!

Heart pounding, Kestrel padded over to the brambles, sniffing delicately at the thorns.
It was a scent she almost reconized. The scent of her two kits mingled with it, and although she tried to draw out a name or face to go with the scent, she could not.

"Not StoneClan..." she murmured, her voice low and dangerous. She was not finished yet. There was something brewing behind her voice, something sharp and terrible sparking behind her narrowed eyes; something she was only barely controlling. Her voice was shaking. Her voice rarely shook.

"This is no Clan's scent."

Nowhere to begin. Nowhere to look. Nothing familliar, no scent she could track.
No names or faces. Just brown and gold hairs.

Her kits were gone and there was no starting point to hunt them with.

A rumble built in the leader's throat. The fur along her back rose, slowly but steadily. "Who...the hell..." she growled. "Would...come here..." Tail lashing, teeth bared. "...From nowhere..." Claws sliding out. "To...steal..."
She was taking very deep breaths now, pulling air into her lungs in measured amounts, but it seemed to do nothing for her.

All at once, she snapped.
"My kits! Who the f**k would do this?" she roared, lashing out with razor claws, swiping apart the air right before Kanji's nose before burying her claws in the sand. "Who would be IDIOTIC enough to!"
Her mismatched eyes were lost in a storm of color and emotion. There was no focus nor control in them. "Steal my kits!"

She rounded on Bluerage, her teeth bared. "Bluerage! Deepcreek! Kanji--I trust your nose--come with me! We are going after my kits!" she snarled. "We will not rest until my kits are back and THE HEADS OF THEIR KIDNAPPERS ARE LINED UP IN FRONT OF MY DEN!"

Her voice echoed across camp. There was something unspeakably ferocious on Kestrel's face as she spoke. It was very clear that not only would she do exactly as she said, but that she would also enjoy it.
The RisingClan leader wanted blood. She wanted it now. And she wanted it to be painful.

She moved toward the brambles, flicking her tail for the others to follow--and then the last, worst coincidence struck.
It began to rain.

Kestrel looked up incredulously. For a few moments, she was silent.

Then, very suddenly, she screamed.
"RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAUGH!"

Damn StarClan to hell, and everyone else for that matter! Rain, now, of all times! When it hadn't rained in more than a week!

"Come on," Kestrel snarled, rushing forward. "Before the rain washes what's left of the scents away!"
She pushed through the brambles, ignoring the stings of pain as the thorns tore into her thick pelt.

She came through in an instant, a thousand thin lines of blood running through her fur. The leader glanced wildly around, her eyes glowing in the last, dying rays of the sun. The clouds were part of a very thin band; doubtless the shower would be over in less than a half-hour...but it would be enough.
Already had been enough.

These cats were good. They had covered their scents well. What had been left...was now gone. Washed clean by the falling rain.

Kestrel stood very still, slowly becoming more and more drenched.
She appeared to be in shock. Her eyes were very wide and very empty, and her anger had retreated, curling deep inside her again. Everything about her was stillness and silence and shock.

"Gone," she whispered, her voice a ghost.

Her kits were gone. Their captors were gone. And now, the scent trail was gone.

And along with it, any hope of retrieving Tiercel and Peregrine.

Gone.

[Shadow Spirit]

[OOC: Chasm originally came back from a patrol and found Osprey alone. He took him around the edges of the camp to scent for any clues to the whereabouts of Tiercel and Peregrine, but they found nothing significant. Now he's come running back to the scene of all the commotion, not entirely sure what's going on as neither he nor Osprey saw the kits being stolen.]

Splosh, splosh, splosh. Chasm's massive black paws made indentations in the rain-soft dirt. He came sprinting back to camp, his young son Osprey hot on his heels. When they re-entered the middle of camp, he saw his mate; Kestrel wailing miserably. Some of their clanmates had gathered, trying to help her. Chasm recognized Bluerage, Checkmate, Deepcreek, and Kanji. Everyone was milling around in obvious distress, and Chasm wasn't sure what the severity of the problem was. Fearing that the absence of their kits had something to do with this he ran up to Kestrel, touching his muzzle to hers gently.

"Kestrel...what has happened?" he asked, feeling fear form a knot in his belly.

Osprey came to a much less graceful stop, slipping in the mud and landing on his chest. Steadying himself, he lifted his small body back to his paws and looked up at his parents. This kit was the only one of the litter that seemed to take after his mother's fleet size, instead of the stocky, powerful form of their father.

"Mommy....where did my brother and sister go?" the child asked, his eyes big with confusion. "I wasn't trying to get them in trouble, I was just explorin' on my own...honest..."

[Kestrel]

Kestrel turned her empty eyes to her mate. "Our kits," she murmured haltingly.

He was her children's father. In a few moments, when he came to understand the magnitude of what had happened, as she had...well, he would join her in misery.
And there was nothing she could do to spare him this pain.

"They're gone, Chasm." Her voice was dull. "Taken. Stolen." Her face was terrible blank as she spoke, as if her fit of anger had drained her of all emotion.
She closed her eyes, breathed. Her fur was heavy with rain. "Someone took them, and I can't track them. The rain--the scents are gone. Our kits are gone."

Kestrel forced her eyes open, gritting her teeth against another explosion. Her empty eyes flickered, and suddenly blazed with life and fire again.
Very soon, she might turn to screaming again. Or cutting. Someone would feel her anguish tonight, if she had to walk for hours to find a cat who deserved her claws.

The RisingClan leader crouched, put her face very close to her son's.
Her last son.
"Osprey, your brother and sister are gone and I...I don't know if I will be able to find them again," she whispered.

[Shadow Spirit]

For perhaps the first time in his life, Chasm fully understood the meaning behind his name. It was as if the ground had dropped out from under him, and he was hovering above a great, swirling abyss...a chasm. His children were just...gone? Just like that? There was nothing they could do?

"How could they just...sweep in and steal them...how did they get past us?" he rasped, his throat suddenly dry. "WASN'T ANYONE GUARDING THEM?!"

The huge black tom crashed down onto his belly, seething with anger and sadness. How could it be that there was NO WAY to find them?!

Osprey watched his mother's eyes glow like fire and his father collapse in grief. The young tom-kit was not able to fully comprehend what this meant for his family, and his clan, but he knew it was bad.

"Mommy...are they gonna be killed...or trained to kill us instead?" he whimpered, feeling extremely small. The idea of having to match claws with his siblings one day...terrified him. He felt hollow inside, and sunk down miserably next to Chasm, nuzzling close against his father's side.

[Onyxdart]

Checkmate let himself be pushed to the edge of activity when Kestrel showed up, knowing full well there was probably going to be an explosion. The tom was not good around explosions. So he tried to stay away from them. It wasn't that he wasn't sympathetic to what kind of a loss this was to the parents of the kits. If he thought words or actions could help anything, he'd have stayed right in the middle of things, but as it was... there were much more experienced and familiar cats who were dealing with that kind of thing.

So Checkmate, once he'd been forgotten, retreated to the entrance of the Warriors' den. If help was called for, he was close enough to be right there, but he was not in the way. And if the way Chasm was yelling was any indication, his hide would be safer well out of the way. Checkmate tended to get his hackles up when he felt he was being yelled at, and if he was far enough away from the yelling, there was no way he could feel like he was the one being yelled at. But it didn't keep him from momentarily flicking his ears back when Chasm shouted something to the effect that the kits should have been being guarded. Well, yeah, someone should have been keeping an eye on them, but if everyone truly thought Boneclan dead and buried, and any of the nastier rogues with them, shouldn't watching have been enough? Who would ever have thought that some rogues would come in and steal the leader's kits?

Checkmate shook his head. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

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[Pinedark]

The she-cat tore after Kestrel, through the brambles. She sniffed hopefully for any kind of scent, but the rain... Kestrel was right. If there was a scent of any kind left, Deepcreek sure couldn't smell it. She put her nose down to the ground anyway and tried to find a scent. There was none.

When Kestrel went back into camp, Deepcreek stayed sitting out in the rain, pacing back and forth and sniffing at the dirt for anything. She'd smelled it earlier, and it had gone in a general direction, but there was just nothing left. She looked up into the rain and made a face at it, and then walked back into camp. She was quite annoyed that she couldn't find a scent.

Just as she came through the brambles, Chasm got the news, and Deepcreek crouched for a moment. Well, of course she felt slightly guilty, whether she was supposed to be in camp or not at the time. No one had told her to stay. She stood back up and flicked her tail. Dwelling in the realms of "If only" wasn't likely to help her or anyone else. She went to sit with the others, preferring company to sitting alone. Deepcreek had a habit of dwelling on things when she was left alone for too long, whether or not she was just being ridiculous.

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