I wrote a story of what has happened to tge old forest in warrior cat series, when all the clans went away. Its still not polished properly, so please don’t judge.
The last rays of sunshine were warm on Willow’s dark fur as she watched the sun hide behind the distant mountains. She had spent most of her afternoon chasing leaves around the garden, but now even the breeze seemed to have lost interest in playing with her. With nothing else to do, she wandered beneath the wooden deck of her Housefolk’s house. Squeezing between the posts and sniffing the damp earth, Willow found herself venturing further than she had before. The ground was cool and soft beneath her paws, scattered with old leaves. As Willow was turning back, something caught the light. A tiny flash of grey shone beneath the dirt. Her ears prickled forward as she crept towards it.
It was covered in dust, and rust stained the sides of its metal tag. What is this? Willow thought, cautiously sniffing her mysterious discovery. Curiosity took over, and her paws started working at the moist ground, slowly revealing the object. Her eyes widened as she realised it was a bluish collar.
“Did someone live here before me?” she said aloud, surprised by the sound of her own voice.
Suddenly, Willow’s ear twitched as she heard her Housefolk calling for her. She knew that by the time she got outside, the sky would already be filled with shining stars, and she would have to go inside.
“I have to show this to Smudge. He’s so old that maybe he knows who this belonged to,” Willow decided.
Carefully, she picked up the collar and hurried towards the fence.
Before her owner’s hands could reach her, she leapt onto the wooden fence, digging her claws into the rough surface as the strong wind tried to blow her off. She placed one paw after another, feeling proud that she hadn’t been caught. Jumping from one fence to another, she soon reached the old house where Smudge lived.
A low mrrp came from inside, telling Willow that Smudge wasn’t sleeping.
“Ah, who’s up this late?” he growled, sounding more amused than annoyed.
“It’s me, Willow!” she called, placing the collar down. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” she meowed, more clearly.
“What is so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow, young one?” Smudge’s voice rasped with age. “Come down, and tell me.” He gestured with his tail.
Willow jumped down softly, carrying the collar over to him. Everything looks so different at night, she mused, glancing around.
“So, what is it?” Smudge asked, breaking Willow’s thoughts.
“This.” Willow pushed her finding closer to Smudge. “Do you know whose it is?” she questioned.
Smudge lowered his head.
For a moment, he said nothing.
His eyes were fixed on the faded blue collar.
The nearby trees shimmered as the wind passed through them. Willow was getting impatient, but she stayed silent.
“Can you see what it says on there?” Smudge finally spoke.
Willow sighed. That cat really is old! She leaned closer to look at the name tag on the ancient collar Smudge was pointing at. Did he think she could understand the things Housefolk say?
Both of them remained silent, staring at the collar.
“Rusty,” Smudge whispered, nearly too quietly for Willow to hear.
Why does Smudge sound so shocked?
“It really is Rusty’s collar.” Smudge’s voice trembled, filling with sorrow.
“A very long time ago, when I was as young as you are now, I had a friend,” he said after a pause, his sad eyes remaining fixed on the blue collar. “A very good friend.”
Willow listened sympathetically, not moving a whisker.
“I knew him from kithood. We always stayed together,” Smudge murmured, lost in his memories. Willow thought that by now, he wasn’t even talking to her.
“What happened to him?” Willow asked, desperate to know.
“His pelt was the colour of fire, and he was very keen to learn about the forest,” Smudge continued, ignoring Willow’s question. “The forest stretched much farther back then, and he’d always sit on his fence and stare, as though something was calling him.” He said it as though he were telling an ancient story. “I couldn’t understand him…”
Did I really find the collar of old Smudge’s friend? Questions filled Willow’s mind.
“One day, he decided to go there, to see the forest closer, and came back changed,” Smudge muttered.
“He went on about forest cats and how he would stay with them,” He hissed. “I just couldn’t believe that he’d give up on everything he knew so easily.”
“Why would he want to live in the forest?” Willow exclaimed.
“I don’t know, Willow.” Smudge’s words were heavy. “After that, I saw him one more time, in the forest,” he carried on. “He looked different. Smelled different. And he even had a new name—I think it was Fireheart.”
Smudge was lost in his thoughts again.
“I never saw him after that.”
“Do you think he died?” Willow wasn’t sure if she should have asked.
Her stomach clenched with fear for Rusty.
The morning breeze started whispering through the trees, and the sky was getting lighter. Yet somehow, everything still felt cold and unwelcoming.
“I don’t know,” Smudge admitted, looking older than ever as his eyes fell once more upon the pale collar.
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