Snap.

Long canines nearly found their way into his shoulders. Dewkit jumped, fur against the fence at his back, rolling himself into as small a ball as he could. The creature before him brought its square muzzle closer, its large black nose twitching and drool falling in strings from its jaws.

The wet of the creature's nose touched the kit and he uncurled himself, lashing out with thorn-sharp claws. His strike left three red gashes, along with a renewed bloodlust in its beady black eyes.

"Help!" Dewkit squeaked again, racing away from the creature as quickly as he could. It missed him by a hair, crashing its tan and black body into the fence before wheeling around and following him. Its legs were much longer than Dewkit's own and there was nowhere to hide in the Twoleg garden.

Dewkit launched himself at the fence, scrabbling at it with his front paws. His crumpled back leg helped to break his fall as he came tumbling back down.

The creature was closing in. He had two options: stand and fight or let it eat him alive.

The grey tom curled himself up again, waiting for the fangs to pierce his skin. It was useless, he would die either way.

Then, he heard a fierce yowl and a strangled yelp. A chorus of hissing and growling commenced, followed by the sounds of claws ripping through fur. Dewkit shivered, not daring to look up. The ground shuddered beneath him as something heavy fell to it.

Next thing he knew, he was being lifted up. Dewkit cried out, struggling with all his might, but whoever held his scruff tightly in their jaws ignored him, taking a mighty leap and landing on the fencetop above instead.

"Stop struggling, beetlebrain," the muffled voice commanded, placing him on top of the wooden slats. "I just saved your life, is that any way to thank your rescuer?"

Dewkit blinked up at the figure before him. He was long and lithe, enough to see his ribs poking through his fur in the light of the moon, but also enough to define the slight muscles of his legs and chest in shadow. His brown tabby fur was clean, if a little messy, and his tail and ears ended in tufts.

The kit's hazel eyes met bright amber ones. "Thank you," Dewkit breathed, glancing down into the Twoleg garden. The creature was nowhere to be seen.

"That dog nearly got you," the tom replied. "Why are you on your own in such a dangerous place, small one? Especially with that limp of yours?"

Dewkit felt panic and embarrassment fill him at the tom's observations. "I got separated," the kit stammered, pushing back his ears and shuffling his paws. "No one came looking for me."

Saying the words out loud only made him feel worse. He suddenly felt an urgent need to wail.

"Think we can follow their scent?" the tom suggested, twitching his nose upwards at the stars.

"No need," came a growl from behind Dewkit. Warmth filled him as a grey tail wrapped around him, holding him close.

The brown tabby tom got to his paws, nodding his head courteously. "I will be on my way then."

"Not so fast." Dewkit became aware of other cats standing in the shadows, some on top of fences and others below in the Twoleg gardens. He realized they were surrounding his rescuer.

"You're not from these parts," Bronco said as he stepped forward. He was larger than the other tom and regarded him coldly.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Nightchaser asked as he approached the brown tabby from the other direction, neatly putting one paw in front of the other.

Dewkit's rescuer nodded to both of the cats approaching him before sitting back down on the fence. He looked entirely unworried by the situation.

"I've travelled for many days, it's true," he said, raising his voice so everyone gathered could hear him. "Yet, despite my exhaustion, I still saved your kit who you left behind. That dog would have eaten him alive had it not been for me."

Cinderblossom gave a soft gasp and pulled Dewkit closer.

"And how do we know your act of bravery is not meant to infiltrate our ranks?" Sprucetail stepped into the light below the fence, green eyes blazing.

The brown tabby tom flicked his tail. "My, you are a paranoid bunch, aren't you? What's got your tail in knots, sweetheart?"

Sprucetail bared her fangs and Dewkit saw her claws glint in the moonlight as she unsheathed them.

"Let him stay for the night," advised Roxanne, padding up on the fence perpendicular to the scene. "Lets us keep an eye on him and gives him somewhere to rest after his 'long journey'." Her eyes were narrowed as she spoke, showing her own distrust.

The tom dipped his head. "Thank you, single logical member of the group. I will gladly spend the night with you." Roxanne's fur rose and she bared her own fangs, but kept her distance.

Bronco flicked his tail in agreement and the other alley cats shuffled their paws, reassembling now that a decision had been made. From his vantage point atop the fence, Dewkit could see Jaystrike, Condor, and Olive joining Sprucetail; Crowpaw and a slightly worse for wear Webpaw padded up soon after.

"Bramblefire, Beaver, Sprucetail, Leo," Bronco called. "Keep an eye on him."

"The name's Killian," the tabby tom pointed out, bowing deeply to the leader of the alley cats.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Sprucetail growled, voice dripping poison as she took her place behind him.

Killian twitched his whiskers at Dewkit once before Cinderblossom whisked the kit away, never once taking her eyes of off her charge as they continued on their way.

Tumble-Down Den was not what Dewkit expected. The name fit well enough, but his first glimpse of the camp made him wish for the safety of his cardboard den once more.

The landmark after which the camp was named consisted of a Twoleg den so old it had started to collapse in on itself. The canopy was a dappled red and black and completely missing in some places; the entire right side sagged against beams that stood out like ribs. The back wall of the den had disappeared, the only evidence of its existence the crumbling rock pillars and rotting wood that stood there.

Within, short white fences separated the space into three main areas – one large and two small. It was decided by Bronco and Nightchaser that there would be no assigned sleeping areas. Dewkit followed Cinderblossom into a sturdy corner of the den, two rock walls on either side and the sloping canopy above. Outside, small raindrops had begun to fall.

The rest of the group split off. Webpaw found a place on the other side of the den from them, casting wary glances at the queen and her kit. Crowpaw, Bramblefire, and Jaystrike followed her while Sprucetail and Birchfrost settled down together near the back opening. Lily and Mothpelt set their herbs down in the driest corner of the den before splitting off too – Mothpelt in Cinderblossom's direction and Lily to Mira, Quartz, and Indigo. The alley cat trainees created their own nest, a pile of bodies indiscernible from the other. Leo, Fiero, and Beaver kept to the centre of the area, while Roxanne, Condor, and Bronco found a place opposite the tumbled wall.

That left Nightchaser – who had seemingly disappeared – and Killian. The brown tabby tom remained by the opening, gazing out at the overgrown garden beyond. From where Dewkit sat, it almost looked like a forest, with branches twisting like tails into each other and small shrubs and saplings taking cover beneath them. His paws itched to explore, but after the incident with the dog he knew Cinderblossom would never let him out of her sight again.

He sighed, blinking his eyelids closed. Perhaps if he fell asleep he would dream of the forest, where he could run without a care. The sounds and scents would be just as fresh as in reality and he would be whole, no limp leg holding him back. His whiskers twitched in happiness as he began to drift off.

Through his sleepy haze he heard footsteps approach gently but his eyelids had become too heavy. Instead, he felt Cinderblossom's body curl more tightly around him, the whisper of a hiss escaping her.

"Do you mind?" Killian's voice was soft but not pleading, simply asking permission.

Cinderblossom's response did not come immediately. "We could use the warmth," she finally decided, some of the tension leaving her body.

The last thing Dewkit remembered before sleep took him was the soft beating of her heart.

//

Life at Tumble-Down Den seemed simpler. Training sessions took place within the overgrown garden and Dewkit, though he was not allowed to join them, watched carefully. Finch was an expert at weaving through the branches and shrubs; Olive's careful paws created not a whisper as she prowled through the undergrowth.

Glancing at his limp back leg, Dewkit couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Even Crowpaw, perpetually behind in training, could pass the drills Quartz set out for them here.

The providers were gone from dawn to dusk, coming back with more freshkill than before even though leafbare drew closer and closer. Nightchaser, too, would disappear for long lengths of time and only a select few seemed privy to where he spent his time.

The only constant became Killian, who lazed around the camp and, much like Dewkit, watched the trainees go about their day before settling down with a piece of freshkill and observing the rest of the Clan. Though he was an outsider, Dewkit felt a certain camaraderie with the tom and often shifted closer to him.

"Shouldn't you be out there?" the brown tabby asked one day as they watched Soren and Hazel race through the garden. Seven sunrises had passed since their arrival at the new camp and still the tom remained with them. He did not cause trouble and helped where and when the others let him; all in all, he wasn't so bad.

Dewkit shrugged. "I'm too young to start training still." And too broken.

"You must be nearly six moons," Killian replied. "That's old enough, if you ask me."

The grey kit held his tongue, watching as Crisp crowed her victory over Oats.

"Soft kits never survive." The voice startled both of them and Dewkit turned to see Nightchaser in the shadows of the den. He blinked once, twice, reassuring himself that the tom was really there; he spent so little time in camp, Dewkit might have believed it was a ghost.

"I was a soft kit," Killian drawled, turning back to the trainees. Robin was now up against Crowpaw.

Golden orbs narrowed. "In this world, only those born to fight survive. In DarkClan, he would have been killed immediately."

Dewkit curled in on himself as Nightchaser stalked past, settling near Quartz to watch the trainees' progress. The many thoughts rushing through the kit's head jumbled together and he felt a sudden need to prove himself. Before anyone could stop him, he rose to his paws and stumbled towards the training session.

A large figure cut him off, dropping down from the nearby fence. Dewkit nearly shot out of his fur, leaping back just as another figure dropped to the ground. The first, a rather fat brown tabby, turned a friendly face towards him while the other, a wise-looking grey she-cat, observed the camp calmly.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we have news," the tom said.

Roxanne stepped forward first. "Charlie, Minerva, what a pleasure to see you. What brings you to the other side of Twolegplace?"

Minerva, the grey she-cat, looked grim as she spoke. "Bad news. Bree was captured and killed. They wanted information on their whereabouts."

A hushed silence filled the camp. Sprucetail began pacing, a shocked Jaystrike in the background. Bramblefire took on a defensive stance, Birchfrost a fearful one. Dewkit felt Cinderblossom draw closer to him.

"Did she give them anything?" Nightchaser asked quietly.

"No," Minerva replied. "No news reached her before they took her."

The tom's white-rimmed eyes closed and the fur of his back lay flat. "Good."

A new shift occurred and, this time, Dewkit saw Roxanne's fur rise. Olive and Quartz looked affronted, while Beaver lashed his tail.

"Good?" Charlie asked, his own stance predatory. "Bree was a good friend to all of us. And you're saying that her death at the claws of your Clan, for your sake is 'good'?"

"They don't know where we are," Nightchaser replied calmly, though his own claws slipped out of their sheathes. "They have no way of finding us."

"That's not going to bring Bree back," Charlie hissed, crouching low.

"Stop this." Bronco's commanding voice filled the temporary camp as he leaped down from the fence. The mice in his jaws hit the ground with a resounding thud. "There will be no fighting amongst us when there are common enemies elsewhere." His amber gaze surveyed those around him.

"He's right," Sprucetail said quietly, placing a gentle tail on Nightchaser's shoulders.

"If he's right then why do his alley cats keep placing blame on us?" the black tom hissed. Before Dewkit could blink, Nightchaser had disappeared again.

Bronco remained where he stood, gazing after him. "Cinderblossom, Jaystrike, Condor – see that he doesn't cause any damage to himself." Without a word, the cats named moved off, Cinderblossom casting one last look over her shoulder at Dewkit before following her littermate over the fences.

"Paranoia everywhere," Killian muttered under his breath, rising to his paws. Then, in a louder voice, "I have to say, I'm intrigued. Who exactly is this enemy? Perhaps I can do something to help?"

Bronco's words were lost as Sprucetail approached the confident tabby. "And how do we know we can trust you? How do we know you don't already know who 'they' are?"

Killian flicked his tail dismissively. "I'm asking aren't I? If I knew who they were why would I ask?"

The she-cat's eyes narrowed. "Maybe you're bluffing."

"And maybe you're just too blind to see what's in front of you."

Sprucetail's jaws drew back to reveal blindingly white teeth. Killian crouched lower over his striped paws and the two began to circle. Dewkit stood back, holding his breath as he watched the two older cats size each other up.

"Tell you what," Sprucetail finally said. "If you can beat me in battle, we'll let you stay to help our cause. We do need good fighters, after all."

"Claws sheathed, I hope?" Killian asked sweetly.

"In your dreams," Sprucetail replied. She launched herself at the tom so quickly he hardly had time to shield himself. Claws cut through fur and skin but he did not let out a sound.

"You fight dirty," he growled. "Good thing I grew up in the streets."

The tabby pounced, just catching Sprucetail by the shoulder as he sailed by, claws leaving a score in her side. He turned so quickly Dewkit felt himself grow dizzy and met Sprucetail's next blow with a parry, bringing up a paw to her head in the process. The she-cat ducked, barrelling into his chest with her weight.

Killian fell back, tripping over his paws with the force of the blow. He struck out blindly, catching Sprucetail on the ear once before her pummelling paws hit his chest and stomach. A screech filled the air and Dewkit drew back his ears at the pained sound.

The cry cut itself off abruptly and the tabby rolled, Sprucetail's paws now hitting his back. With a great huff, he pushed off of the ground, sending her backwards, and brought his own body crashing down onto her. She yowled in protest, trying to push him off.

"Not so cocky now!" Killian's voice reverberated around the garden. He whipped around, paws working in a steady rhythm – right, left, right left – hitting various parts of the she-cat's body. Her shoulders were soon marked up, her stomach, her legs.

Finally, she blocked one of his attacks and, breaking his rhythm, rolled him over. He, in turn, used his weight to throw her to the side and pin her down.

Dewkit watched as the two tumbled over and over in endless circles, each trying to one-up the other. Every time it seemed One or the other had won, they would continue their battle, taunts flying across the small camp space.

"Enough!" Bronco called, breaking the two apart. He held Sprucetail back while Roxanne rushed forward to hold back Killian. The two combatants were breathing hard enough for Dewkit to hear the air rushing in and out of their lungs.

"Good enough to stay?" Killian managed to get out.

Bronco's face remained impassive. "Your stalemate with Sprucetail is no win, but I think we'll find a use for you."

Sprucetail opened her mouth to argue, but one angry look from Bronco made her hold her tongue.

"Now get cleaned up," he hissed. "Leafbare will soon be upon us and I don't want to be wasting herbs on something like this again."

// I'm back, and with a longer chapter to make up for my absence! Camp was great, got a nice tan and only had to scream a little bit to get the kids to listen to me. Didn't have to resort to Dawnstar level discipline so, all in all, not a bad experience.