Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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Kier nodded encouragingly at Laertes when he caught his gaze, followed by a sympathetic, disbelieving 'I know' upward flick of his eyes.
"Right back at you," the SpringClan tom replied politely, all his attention on the mouse, forgetting about the insignificant kit completely. Pawing it closer to him, he began to eat.
Kier leaned in excitedly.
But, because these two were cursed, the tom managed to eat everything except the ginkgo seeds, avoiding the gut area of the mouse completely. The most he got was one tiny edge of one of the seeds, and it made him draw back and pull a face at the bitterness. "Well, no offence, but this mouse sucks," he told the kit, still pulling a face. He pushed the prey away, oblivious to the hefty seeds poking out of its stomach contents where he'd just been eating. Raising a paw, he burped behind it. "Anyway, I'm getting tired. Better find someone else to take you home, huh? Or, if you can't find anyone, don't, uh - just don't die. Good luck." Burping again and shaking his head at the bitterness, he stood up and walked off into the undergrowth.
After a few moments of silence to make sure he was gone, Kier padded out and stood beside Laertes, staring after him in bewilderment. "He's foul," he commented at last in lingering disbelief, sounding incredibly normal for once as he stared after him. He'd never known someone to be so openly repulsive. "And he's gonna have an upset stomach now." Then, snapping out of it, he turned his head to Laertes. "Well. What now?" He knew what had to happen now, but he wanted Laertes to come to the decision himself. Clearly they still had to kill him. It was a matter of pride now. Even if poison was out of the question... He had to die.
His claws dug into the dirt from where he stood apprehensively, waiting for the first bite to be taken, then the next, then the next, until the tom had eaten his way to the seeds and … completely disregarded them. Laertes had the strange urge to shove it in his mouth anyway, clamp his jaw shut until he had no choice but to swallow. He blinked those thoughts away. Well, no offence, but this mouse sucks. Oddly, he did take offense.
As the tom turned, Laertes thought he should reach out and stop him, but something kept him glued in place, perhaps the tom's attitude, the way he said the most vile things like it was any other regular conversation — he was a League cat, yet somehow this was too abhorrent for them both. He didn't look towards Kier as he moved beside him, eyes lingering on the spot the cat had once been before he'd left.
"What now?" He asked dumbly, before shaking out his head, "I don't know what's going on! But ... I think he's a witness now, what if he tells Springclan we were here? What if they recognize us? Oh, I'm going to send us into a war," anxiously, he bounced on his toes, before going to follow the Springclan cat, tried to keep himself hidden. The trees were too far apart in this stretch of their land to climb properly, and so they were grounded.
"He's got to die," he didn't sound so opposed to the idea now, "how am I supposed to do that?"
"Ohh, you're not going to send us into a war," Kier reassured him as he bounced anxiously beside him, two juxtapositions of unsettling stillness and nervous movement. If he were still smaller than him, he'd have given him a grounding little pat on the head; as it was, he just lightly flicked his flank with his tail-tip to comfort him. "SpringClan's never done a thing in their life but sniff flowers and grow fat. No, no, don't worry about that." He didn't know why he was trying to reassure him at all; it would be better for him if he let Laertes believe that would happen - better yet because he hadn't even been the one to suggest it. But, oddly, he didn't want him to worry.
He's got to die. Shaking off the thoughts, a slow, proud, gleeful grin spread across Kier's face as Laertes moved off ahead of him. "That's the spirit!" he cried, trotting after him. "Well, Laertes, I'm so pleased. Very gratified indeed to hear it. This is the Laertes I've been trying to coax out - isn't it freeing?" He trotted along beside him for a while in silence as he thought, smiling all the while. Finally, he piped up again. "There's a rather impressive ditch in the far west of the territory - really more of a gully. A ravine, if you will. If you're still opposed to getting your paws bloody, we could coax him there and then it's just one little unfortunate gust of wind between him and the great beyond." He grinned at his protégé. "A prey trail should get him there. Off you go."
Kier’s words only made him feel worse, but he tried to push it down to focus on their task at hand. Find that tom; kill him. And though his mind clouded with annoyance at the very thought of him and his insulting words, his stomach curled in disgust at the thought of killing him. He looked to his mentor as if it would make the thoughts settle. It wasn’t freeing, it was burdening, he had to kill this cat because he had no other choice, whether Kier was forcing him to or not. He repressed a sigh at the plan, but bounded off ahead.
A while of asking Kier for directions to The Valley and another mouse later, he heard the shuffling of old paws, the murmur of someone complaining about the undergrowth that, admittedly, wasn’t that thick. It certainly didn’t match up to the League’s. Laertes slowed, crept up as much as he could with being caught and poked his head through a large fern. There he was, bumbling along as if nothing had happened. Laertes moved, silent and fluid, until the direction to The Valley was set and he could toss the mouse out towards him, a little way ahead. He lowered his voice, “can you get me more?” He was too focused on his task to realize he’d just asked Kier for something, as usually it was the other way around, usually he would never. He moved forward, waiting for the Springclan tom to take the bait.
This whole time, Kier had been silent, just creeping along behind Laertes, focused on doing whatever he could to help his protégé; he almost looked concerned, like a soccer mom ready to get her kid any snack they asked for. When Laertes poked his head through the fern, Kier settled beside him and did the same, peering out at their quarry with narrowed eyes. Can you get me more? He looked at Laertes for a moment, but finally turned away without a sound and disappeared back through the undergrowth. He reappeared a minute or two later with three mice dangling from his teeth by their tails. He went to set them down beside Laertes — when one of the mice suddenly erupted back to life, squealing in terror and pain. “Oh my god!” Kier exclaimed, flinching backwards with one paw in the air, genuinely caught off guard. In a blind panic, he swatted the mouse away from him — towards Laertes. Immediately after, realising it would scream, he dove after it and barrelled Laertes over; completely forgetting about his protégé beneath him, he scrabbled and slammed his paws this way and that, trying to catch the mouse. He somehow managed to hook it and throw it into the air, and he scrambled off Laertes and backed up to try and catch it; but when he did, it bit his paw and, caught off guard again, Kier screamed.
When the SpringClan tom finally looked towards the ruckus in the bushes, all he saw was Kier and Laertes wildly grappling for the mouse, tossing it back and forth with flailing paws, and the mouse screaming the entire time. Finally, Kier noticed and, hugging the mouse to his chest so that it finally either suffocated to death or had its bones crushed — he couldn’t tell, it just went limp — looked over to the tom. “Hi,” he said.
“You again,” the SpringClan tom replied rudely, ignoring Kier to glare at Laertes. “Are you the one been throwin’ mice around? What’re you playing at? Too good to eat poor man’s mice? Huh? No wonder you’re so skinny.” He snapped his head around to glare at Kier. “Haven’t you been feeding him?”
“Well,” Kier stammered, so bewildered, glancing at Laertes, “I—”
“Save it.” The tom turned and lumbered off, muttering to himself and lashing his tail. “No good rich boy,” he muttered about Laertes, “walkin’ all over everybody else, never had to do a thing in his life…”
Laertes nodded quickly, eyed the mice briefly before turning away to peer through the leaves once more. He could only focus on the tom for a few peaceful moments before it was interrupted by Kier. He jerked away, turned to stare at his mentor before jerking back at the suddenly alive mouse, couldn't duck in time before Kier flung it in his direction and it hit him square in the nose. His scream was strangled as he was tackled once more, but he clamped his jaw shut, teeth catching his tongue painfully. He backed away from Kier, eyes squinted and paw rubbing his nose, "you kicked me," he said nasally, shaking out his head as he watched, finally having the sense to look towards the Springclan tom, who had certainly heard the commotion by now. He shrunk back.
Haven’t you been feeding him?
"No!" He shouted on instinct, "I mean — yes! I mean —" his voice broke slightly, and his face burned, "shut up!" He grimaced, like the very words he spoke were painfully to Laertes' poor (embarrassingly big) ears. And though they weren't necessarily false — he was a rich boy who hadn't had to do anything up until he met Kier, a stuck-up, snobbish little kit who loved bossing people around and showing off his power — he hated them anyway. Almost comically, he wandered off again, leaving the two awkwardly, still, behind the bush. He gave Kier a helpless look, slamming his paw on the ground repeatedly, attempting to release that pent up annoyance.
"Gods! He's so insufferable. Great plan, genius." His face fell, "sorry," he added quickly, realizing he probably shouldn't be so disrespectful.
Now utterly determined, feeling shameful of his failure, he stomped after the Springclan tom, hardly attempting to hide himself now, because what would it matter? It wasn't like he particularly cared.
You kicked me. “And I’ll do it again,” Kier hissed back immediately, trying and failing to hide his embarrassment as he hugged the dead mouse to him.
No! Kier snapped his head around to stare at Laertes in betrayal — he’d fed him after that time in the frozen pool! What a little liar! I mean — yes! I mean — shut up!” Kier rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he looked away with a silent exhalation. “You showed him,” he breathed, still looking away from Laertes.
Once the tom left and Laertes began slamming his paw on the ground, Kier let the mouse fall and sat still and upright, letting Laertes get it all out while he stayed silent. He’s so insufferable. Kier nodded absentmindedly. Great plan, genius. He turned his head to look at him, nose wrinkling in a snarl even with the quick apology, but there was no actual anger to it; it was just a scripted warning. “It was a good plan!” he snapped back, wounded and petulant at the fact something of his own mind had failed. It had never happened before. “You just messed it up! This is your fault, Laertes.” That obviously wasn’t true, Kier had panicked with the mouse, but if there was one thing he was good at it was rewriting history. He didn’t gatekeep, he dabbled in girlbossing mostly to hold Eris’ scalpel, but he most certainly gaslit. When Laertes stormed past him, very insolently, Kier righted his imaginary bowtie and followed after him. Well, I say ‘followed.’ He ran after him in an undignified hurry, because Laertes’ legs were getting very long. “Kill him!” he encouraged in a hiss, growing more and more excited as he swerved from Laertes’ left, to his right, and back again, side to side. Both pupils were fully dilated with glee. “Kill him! Yes! Get angry! Slit his throat! Rip his heart out! No, really, rip his heart out, I’ll eat it.”
Suddenly, the SpringClan tom, who had disappeared from sight, reappeared from behind a tree trunk just up ahead. He felt very cocky about outwitting these crooks with his little act of deception. “Are you following me?” he accused them. Kier held up his paws — leave me out of this, nothing to do with me — and sat down beside Laertes. The SpringClan tom let out a laugh, because unbeknownst to these two bozos, he had been a wrestling champion during his apprenticeship. He pitied them. “Gonna mug me? Go ahead,” he challenged Laertes, looking insufferably sure of himself. “I’ll snap you like a twig, bro.” He let out a roar. Kier covered his face with his paw, his shoulders visibly shaking and his eyes squeezed shut against his grin; he was going to cry from trying so hard to stop his giggling. It would be rude to laugh in your murder victim’s face.
Slapping one big paw against his own chest, the SpringClan tom roared one last, threatening dog bark at the gangly kit before turning around and stomping into the undergrowth. As soon as he was gone, Kier let out a raspberry of a sputtering laugh and slowly turned his head to grin up at Laertes, his cheeks stained by tears. “What the hell was that?” he snickered weakly, as harmless and normal as he had ever looked. Still grinning, now truly enjoying this, he looked after where the tom had disappeared. There was a cliff edge overlooking the area he had just walked into. Letting out a sigh, he wiped a tear from his eye. “Let’s go drop a rock on him,” he smiled.
"mimimimimi," he muttered under his breath, though it wasn't often he was so defiant any more. Maybe this was getting to him more than he thought. Of course it was Laertes, it was always Laertes! It was his fault when his sister broke her tail and almost stupidly drowned, somehow, and now it was his fault for not killing this innocent civilian. He grit his teeth and the muscles in his neck flexed as a result. He'd never felt the need to pummel someone so hard, and what was more ironic is that, truthfully, the tom hadn't done much to deserve it. He was annoying, he was rude and gross and insufferable, but they were on his land, following him around, having had picked him as an undeserving victim of Laertes' first crime. Somehow, he still felt justified.
No, really, rip his heart out, I’ll eat it. He made a disgusted face, shook his head briefly, and turned his eyes forward again, suddenly feeling as though he didn't want to eat at all for the next few moons. Still, he didn't want to get so violent, despite his … unfortunate job — besides, he wanted something theatrical, something spectacular, as sick as it sounded. It had to be worth it.
His stalking had been going excellent, but perhaps he was feeling a little too confident in the tom's ignorance, for when he turned to speak, to challenge him, Laertes froze where he stood, letting out a long, drawn out, "uuuuuhmm — mug … you?" He said hesitantly, as if he didn't understand what the words meant. He blinked as the tom tried to threaten him (tried? It had worked, Laertes was scared), with a big, thumping paw and a roar, before strangely stomping off, seeming so pleased and full of himself. Not exactly shaking in his boots but extremely confused nonetheless, he sat back as if to steady himself, face morphing to a scowl as Kier only laughed. He immediately set back into motion, stalking off after him, towards the cliff edge, where he certainly would be dropping a rock on his stupid, big head.
"I hate this guy so, so much," he whispered, voice almost a plea for the Gods to strike him down now. He didn't bother hiding himself, though he did slow as the tom came into sight again, staring down the face of cliff, towards the valley and, unbeknownst to Laertes, Winterclan beyond. Without giving himself any time to think, Laertes rushed towards the tom, barreling into him.
“OHH, bro,” the SpringClan guy roared as Laertes barrelled into him and they fell, and then rolled, down the long slope, “you picked the WRONG fella to tussle with. You ever heard of,” and here he said his name, which is redacted because you do not have clearance to know it, “the ANNIHILATOR? YEAH, I got that name from PUMMELIN’ little pipsqueaks like you. Let’s go, bro, let’s GO.” As they rolled and rolled and rolled down the slope, picking up speed, the SpringClan tom hit and bit and kicked Laertes, holding him to him in this warp speed ball of bodies. Eventually, having hit multiple rocks and painful clumps of grass on their descend, they rolled onto an outcrop that formed a ramp — and from there, they sailed into thin air. The SpringClan tom just kept whacking Laertes, screaming in his face the entire time they were in the air.
Through all of this, Kier was just standing at the top of the slope, genuinely at a loss for words. His mouth was slightly open; now he closed it and, muttering to himself furiously about the indignity, followed after them down the slope, passing through the clouds of dust left in their wake. The grass was all torn up down to the earth below by their descent.
As soon as the SpringClan Guy and Laertes landed, he leapt away from him, as light on his paws as a gazelle. He bounced around him like a hopping spider, taunting him. “Wanna go, bro? You wanna go? I’ll DESTROY you.”
When Kier finally reached the scene, he stopped briefly beside Laertes, not wanting to get his own ass kicked, and hissed in his ear, “this wasn’t dropping a rock on him.” Lashing his tail, he stalked off into the copse of trees just beside them, ears flat and head thrust forward. He had to do everything his damn self. Not too long after, just as the SpringClan Guy was roaring more verbal insults at Laertes and hopping back and forth in front of him on all four paws, Kier suddenly appeared behind him, having strolled silently out of the trees, and in one swift movement slipped a garrotte around his neck from behind. Even with his small size, the surprise of it meant the tom instinctively choked a scream and fell backwards, clawing at the strip of wire to try and get it away from his throat. Kier just held on in silence, half crushed beneath the tom’s weight, and slowly turned his head to give Laertes a look.
But, as soon as he was slightly distracted, the tom threw a blow behind him and caught Kier in the face with his elbow. Kier immediately let go, whipping his paw up to hold it against his bleeding nose. “Oh my god!” he exclaimed again, voice stuffy and eyes wide as the SpringClan guy dragged himself off him; Kier paid him no attention, too bewildered by the fact he’d just been punched in the face. He held his paw slightly away to look at the blood on his pads, eyes watering. “He hit me!”
Laertes had miscalculated entirely — where he had meant to run and shove him, leaving himself at the top as he tumbled, he had jumped too far, too fast, and now was left falling with him. He heard nothing but the sound of the wind in his ears, his own hammering heart, and yelling. The blows landed just the same as the rocks and uneven land did, and he couldn't tell the difference. There were screams in the air. They were his.
Laertes didn't move as they stopped, and neither did he move when the Springclan guy jumped off him, showing off ridiculous fighting moves, if those clumsy motions could be described as such. He was stunned and breathless, almost mistakeable for dead had his chest not been heaving and his eyes not been blown, though he still lay motionless on his back, like a fainted goat.
"Just DIE already! Oh my god!" He slapped his paws to his face, not moving to get up, only there to wallow. Finally, when he felt he had wallowed enough, he sat up, shoulders hunched and defeated, halfway to a stranding position before Kier took him from behind, strangling him. Laertes stared open mouthed, slightly horrified at the violence, slightly trying not to feel satisfied that perhaps, finally, he would be dead. But it was them. Maybe this was the real family curse, for the next thing he knew he had escaped once more. Laertes sat back down.
"I can see that," he said simply, not bothering to help, "this is getting too much for me. Can I quit? Please?" He snapped his gaze back to the tom, wanting nothing more than to just gauge his eyes out or something. Instead, he lowered himself back into a lying position and let his forehead hit the ground, welcoming the darkness of the ground below him. Maybe he was crying, maybe he wasn't, he couldn't quite tell.
"Do it, then," he muttered pathetically, voice shrouded by the odd position of his muzzle, "go on."
“Laertes, you’re being incompetent!” Kier snapped, but his voice was still nasally, paw pressed against his nose. Really, he was just being incredibly melodramatic; his nose wasn’t broken, despite all the blood, and the stunned initial pain had already started to fade into a dull ache, but even if he had never gotten the chance to milk being hurt with the incessant physical violence of his brother and sister, Kier was a drama queen. He’d always had to recover quickly and act like nothing had happened — now, though, he could really pull out all the stops and put on a show. He was still half-lying on the ground while the SpringClan guy squawked and barked at Laertes lying face down, the two League toms sprawled out like downed bowling pins. Kier couldn’t possibly do anything about it. “Just finish him off! Get up!”
Like another wave of pain was rolling over him, Kier let out a moan and slumped back against the ground, lying face-up with his paw against his nose. Blood slid down his cheek. “Oh, I’ve never known pain like this,” he wailed against his paw, voice muffled.
The SpringClan guy lumbered over to Laertes and, bending down, picked him up by the scruff in his jaws and shook him like a dog with prey. “TRYNA KILL ME?” he demanded against his fur. “BOY, YOU DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE MESSING WITH.”
”You’re doing great,” Kier encouraged Laertes weakly between moans, waving a blind, feeble paw at him.
The only response he offered was a slight lifting of his head, but he let it flop down again, utterly defeated and hopeless. He should be struck down where he stood — or laid, specifically. Though, those were big words for someone who had attempted to choke the Annihilator out and got a bloody nose in the process. His anger almost wilted away the moment he fell, and he almost let it before he was grabbed by the scruff, shaken around like a squeaky toy. He didn't know where he limbs were, but he had the briefest hint that his claws had attempted to grab hold of the tom's muzzle like it would stop him in any way. It felt like rolling down the hill, and he was getting queasy.
"Stop! Talking! I've - got - this!" He yelled, voice shaky and unstable with the motion, like he were flying in and out of earshot. Eventually, he got a proper hold, claw hooked in the guy's nose painfully before he could wriggle himself free, landing stomach-first but not giving himself any time to breathe before he leapt away, fur standing on edge. He looked like a burr. He backed away, towards the sloping ground, though it would be too steep to climb up again.
His eyes were wide and blown, like he was staring at a monster instead of a cat, "you get away from me before I die! Go back to hell where you came from!" He should start exorcising him or something, because obviously he wasn't any Springclan cat. Laertes leapt past him, rushing to stand and hide behind Kier, though he was much larger than him by now and it didn't do much to hide him from that beast. He cowered anyway, throwing out thoughts of pushing his mentor forward in a sacrificial sort of way. He didn't have this.
As soon as Laertes’ claws hooked in his nose, the Annihilator let out a howl of pain and dropped him, barking and frothing at the mouth as he spun back and forth, trying to find his prey. Kier saw the dark shape of Laertes pass by beyond his eyelids and opened his eyes, moving his paw from his face and looking around in quick confusion for a moment before he made sense of Laertes sheltering beside him. Even if it was just so he got ripped to shreds first, Kier was still strangely moved that he trusted him to protect him. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by SpringClan Guy letting out a triumphant roar as he located them, spittle flying everywhere. “Okay, Laertes, time to go,” Kier announced as calmly as he could, rolling over and ushering his protégé along. “Quickly, quickly, don’t look back.” Breaking into a run and trying not to look as freaked out and plan-less as he felt, he headed for the copse of trees up ahead. “Up you go,” he encouraged quietly when they reached the trunk of a tall tree, standing at the base as he waited for Laertes to go up first, glancing behind him repeatedly to make sure SpringClan guy hadn’t found them yet. Just as he appeared at the edge of the undergrowth, breathing heavily and sniffing the air, Kier threw himself up the tree and scrabbled up silently. Perching close beside Laertes on a thick branch, he gave him a silent ‘shh’ look and, slowly looking back down at the forest floor as the Annihilator came into view, curled his tail up from where it had been dangling out from below the leaves in full sight to rest between them on the branch.
Everything was silent. Even the birds themselves fell quiet. Kier and Laertes were gone.
By now, SpringClan Guy was at least twice as big as he had been when they’d first met him, his jaws huge and frothing, his legs built like tree trunks, and his body like a tank. “COME HERE, LITTLE KITTY,” he laughed in an impossibly deep, demonic voice, prowling the forest in search of Laertes. He came into view, lumbering below them, and stopped to sniff the ground. Kier held his breath.
“Wow, you’ve really pissed him off,” he breathed to Laertes, not taking his eyes off their hunter. Dried blood was crusted across his nose and muzzle. Slowly, his eyes wandered over to a large rock at the base of a tree a few yards from their own, on the opposite side of the path. Vines dangled above it. Ideas began to turn in Kier’s head. Looking back at Laertes, he jerked his head towards the rock and made some unintelligible paw gestures. To him it was clear: go get the rock and a vine, tie it around it, throw the vine to me, I’ll loop it over the branch, come back up, we pull the rock up, then you go act as bait and lure him over here, and when he wanders by we drop the rock on his head. But it didn’t look like that; it just looked like Kier gesturing with big, deliberate, indistinct movements while trying not to overbalance. Laertes had had training in balancing in trees; Kier hadn’t, and he was wobbly. He really should have included silent communication in their training sessions. He was starting to get frustrated now, eyes widening as he gestured harder, staring at Laertes unblinkingly as he tried to make him understand his frantic miming.
Okay, Laertes, time to go. He didn't waste a second, didn't hesitate for a moment, before he was up and running, and if it were another universe he would have had to grab his little flat cap before it was left in the air behind him. Truthfully, he wasn't sure the Annihilator was actually a cat, because surely no mortal being was like that.
Immediately, he scrambled up the trunk and balanced on a branch, limbs taut, eyes scrounging the ground for any sign of their reversed attacker. He shifted so Kier could have a little more space. He'd never felt more terrified in his life, not when he first climbed a tree, not when his sister nearly drowned, not when he almost drowned.
COME HERE, LITTLE KITTY. He let out a quiet, pitiful squeak, clinging tighter to the branch like it would save his life, "oh god, I'm done for," he whispered. There was no way he got out of this alive. He watched as he prowled, a large, inhumane monster, a hunting thing, more fox or bear than cat, more beast than man, more demon than mortal. Laertes felt he might faint, but he clung tighter, crouched a little lower.
"I know," he said tightly, words hardly making it past gritted teeth. His lip quivered. At Kier's sudden, frantic movements, Laertes panicked — "you'll get us caught!" He hissed, wrapping his paws around Kier's neck and pulling him closer until Laertes could almost retain his previous crouched position. He kept his one paw positioned over his mentor's neck, in a headlock, attempting to shut him up. He didn't register that it might be instructions, but he still located the rock on his own time. He couldn't tie it up — he didn't have apposable thumbs — so instead he just stared cluelessly, much more intent on getting out than killing him. Let Springclan have their demons, he wasn't getting involved.
"You idiot!" Kier hissed when Laertes grabbed him, immediately scrabbling and twisting like a panicked cat, which he was. Oh, he hated physical touch, oh he hated it so much, oh, oh, this was hell, this was hell. He'd never hated being so small as he did in that moment. Eventually, realising it was hopeless and that Laertes wasn't letting go, he slumped against the branch, defeated and annoyed, his fur prickling like a furious kitten, and glared down at the lumbering monster below them, half-pinned beneath his protégé. Finally, though, he got a second wind and, suddenly tearing away from Laertes, gave him a victorious kick away from him. "HA!" Kier spat triumphantly, grinning maniacally, eyes wide. But his expression immediately changed to startled horror when the kick sent Laertes towards the narrower, unbalanced end of the tree branch. It dipped beneath his weight, cracking and groaning.
"Oh, oh, oh," Kier babbled in a panic, stepping back and forth uncertainly, wide eyes never leaving Laertes as the branch bobbed up and down. "Sorry — I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He'd never apologised like this before; he wasn't thinking — he just didn't want his protégé to fall. "I'll — I'll make sure your sister makes a good marriage!" he offered earnestly, voice raised to be heard, eyes following Laertes up and down as the branch bobbed, giving him an apologetic, sorrowful grin that was supposed to be reassuring. Laertes was going to die, but he would look after his family. "The ugly one — she'll never get anyone otherwise. That's my promise. You really were the best protégé anyone could have asked for."
The Annihilator, having heard the commotion, came crashing back through the undergrowth and began leaping up and down beneath Laertes, snapping his frothing jaws and howling with rage. Kier crouched lower and crept out closer to Laertes. "Shall I push you?" he offered, and to Kier, it was genuine kindness. A genuine show of how much his protégé meant to him — more than his siblings, more than his parents. Aside from Eris, there was no one he was closer to, and he was genuinely heartbroken that it had come to this. "It'll be easier if someone else does it for you. I'll..." His voice quietened, sad, earnest eyes never leaving Laertes'. The world around them, even the Annihilator's rabid barking, faded into the background as he gazed at him. "I'll miss you, Laertes."
A bloodcurdling, high-pitched scream sounded in the air around them, and distantly a flock of birds took flight. He kept screaming, even as, before he fell, his claws dug into the flimsy bark, holding on for dear life as his legs dangled helplessly below, towards the snapping jaws of the Annihilator.
"Shall you WHAT!" He exploded, the screaming finally subsided to into loud gibberish, "STOP TALKING ABOUT MY SISTER'S WEDDING AND SAVE MY LIFE! Please!" His voice turned to a beg near the end, breaking until it was a whisper, eyes wide and pleading and watery. His back feet couldn't take hold of the branch, it was too small, and he tried to keep his tail out of the way, fearing it'd be ripped off. He met his mentor's gaze.
His eyes widened, his heart dropped, his ears flattened — I'll miss you, Laertes.
"Kier — sir — help me," he begged, pleaded, claws beginning to lose their grip, branch beginning to snap. It was almost agonizingly slow.
Kier went silent, holding Laertes' gaze with a pained, unsure expression; his thoughts were turning and grinding confusingly, and the weight of them, how nonsensical and contrasting and emotion-based they were when solemn, stony logic should have been the only deciding factor, almost hurt him. Kier had already decided this was Laertes' time to go. For him to change his mind... Kier — sir — help me. He chewed on his lip for a moment, looking more and more agonised and unwilling — and then, finally, he sat up with a reluctant, groaning "ohh"; he didn't want to be doing this. His heart had betrayed him. As soon as he sat up, still wearing that miserable frown, he began looking around for ways to help him.
He couldn't drag Laertes up by the scruff — he was already so much taller than he was; the branch was already snapping; Kier's added weight would shatter it before he even got close; and even if he did reach him, it was almost guaranteed that Laertes, in his panic and eagerness to be saved, would just send both of them crashing to the ground. So... Letting out a sighing breath, Kier suddenly scrabbled back across the branch, down the tree trunk, and dropped onto the ground. "Doggydoggydoggy," he coaxed the Annihilator, looking remarkably fearless and blasé and defiant at the base of the tree as he faced him, like this monster were just any annoying pest. Inwardly, he wasn't all that scared either; he'd meant what he'd said to Eris the first day they'd met, about any death being an exciting one. The Annihilator turned towards him slowly, forgetting about Laertes in the face of this new irritation; spit dripped from his growling jaws. Kier's paws shook slightly, and there was a quiver in his voice, but he still tried to sound cheerful. "I've seen some hideous hellhounds in my days but you really do take the cake — who's ever going to want to make horrible little hell puppies with you? It must be awful. And you can't even successfully kill a kitten and me! In fact, I doubt you could do very much damage at all."
The Annihilator, howling and screaming with rage, hurled himself at Kier. Mid-laugh, Kier sucked in a breath, a flash of fear crossing his face, and fled. They disappeared down the sloping path, SpringClan Guy's rabid, frothing barks fading into the distance of the still, quiet forest.
As Kier turned and left, Laertes gave a silent plea, "wait, wait wait," because in the moment, logic didn't matter. He hadn't yet realized that it would only be extra weight on the branch, or he might make them fall, or Kier wouldn't be strong or nimble enough to keep balance and pull him up, all he knew was that he was leaving, turning his back on Laertes, leaving him for dead. And then he was climbing down, down, down, until he was coaxing the Annihilator towards him. Oh. His eyes widened, "oh good gods — what are you doing?" He called before immediately clamping his mouth shut. Of course — Kier never seemed scared of anything, it seemed natural that he could face the beast.
As his heartrate slowed and his breath calmed, he could finally pull himself up, still struggling, but successful. His back paw hooked the branch and, in a weird tangle of oddly bent limbs, he crept slowly and cautiously towards the thicker part of the branch. His thin, gray fur stood on edge, but he was growing calmer. Kier and the Annihilator had long since disappeared, and for a moment Laertes sat back down, leaned forward and craned his ears towards the distant, leaving noise of the two. And then it was quiet. Painfully quiet. He winced.
As he clambered his way to the ground, unsteady and shaky, he looked up towards the top of the slope again. There had to be an exit somewhere, he was sure, and he had half the mind to leave, but he was drawn by the fact that his mentor was still out in the forest somewhere, either successfully avoiding getting mauled or … failing. He shivered at the thought. He looked around again, eyes landing on the vines Kier had previously pointed out, and an idea formed. He took one end of the longest piece he could find and twirled it around the trunk of a tree, around and around until he was dizzy, until he eventually stopped and rolled a heavy rock on top of the end, keeping it in place. He did the same to the other end of vine at the adjacent tree. The trap was set, the vine formed a thick, cutting line high and sturdy enough to trip someone. He gave a long, evil laugh, and in Laertes' opinion, it sounded cool.
He set off in the same direction as Kier and the beast.
It would have been cool if Kier was sitting in a clearing licking one bloody paw, the Annihilator's corpse splayed out behind him. But he wasn't. As it was, Kier had just run for his life and hadn't stopped. If there was one thing his brother and sister had taught him how to do, it was run without being caught. At one point SpringClan Guy had almost gotten him, his jaws snapping at his flanks, and Kier was thankful Laertes hadn't been there, because he had screamed. But, with a sudden swerve, he'd sent him tumbling into a rockpile and managed to lose him in the undergrowth before he recovered. Now, he was racing back to where he'd left Laertes.
As Laertes was running one way, Kier was running the other — as he ascended a blind rise, he suddenly saw his protégé and, unable to do anything but let out a startled gasp and try to scrabble backwards in a desperate whirlwind of limbs, crashed into him. They toppled over in a flurry of dust and tails; Kier's back smashed into a tree trunk and he slid down it head-first, stopping with his tail draped across his face and his back legs in mid-air. For a long few moments, all Kier could do was lie there in that undignified position and pant. Finally, when he had his breath back just enough to speak, he choked out in a high pitched, cracking voice, "were you trying to evil laugh?" As soon as he said it, he went back to panting; speaking had taken up too much effort. His whole body was burning. He was never saving someone else's life again; he tried his best to ignore how sickeningly good it felt to have done something selfless. He wasn't used to it, and the unnatural feeling made him feel like he was going to have a panic attack. He didn't try quite so hard to ignore how relieved he was to see Laertes alive and safe. That warmth in his chest, though still unsettling and unexpected, was more familiar to him. "So you're- you're alive. How annoying."
For the second at least, before the Annihilator inevitably found them again, they had time to breathe.
