9-23-07

I'm not really sure if any of you guys remember me, but…I'm Glacierclaw, I was writing stories a long time ago, almost a year, for Warriors, and I'm really starting to miss it, so here I am! The reason for my huge absence would include drama, romance, sacrifice, and death…or maybe just writer's block. You take your pick. just has so many cool new features that it seems a shame not to be an active member anymore. I've started high school now, finally, and I play the Sims 2 a lot, which takes up most of my time…anyway.

This story is a rewritten and revised version of my second fic – The Twoleg Warrior. It is in a completely different tense than my first fic. This is set in the first book, with Firepaw, but won't be canon. I won't delete my first TTW fic because it might be interesting to see how much I've improved over the year that I've been gone. And have you seen the brand new warriors official site? It's SO cool. You have to see the family trees. There are a couple mistakes though, like it's Tawnypelt, not Tawnyclaw, and Willowpelt was Whitestorm's mate, not Brindleface.

Also…this fic is rated T…and probably a pretty good T too. Just to warn you.

Anyway…this is a really long author's note. :D Enjoy!

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Chapter One – Dark Forest

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I'm still not sure how it happened. It was so sudden, so impossible, I still wonder if I'm dreaming. If I'm locked in a padded room with a straitjacket. My situation certainly makes me wonder.

I had a…normal life. Back then, anyway. Perhaps my life wasn't as normal as most fourteen-year-old's would be. I stayed out of the house most of the time to avoid my mom and uncle to enjoy the fresh air, not the confined space of the way-too-small house. My dad had died a few years ago, so my mom and I were forced to move in with my uncle due to financial issues. It was perhaps one of the worst mistakes we had ever made.

My uncle, on my dad's side, was a fat, often drunken man with a part-time job. We were in deep money trouble to be reduced to having to live with him. He was the kind of uncle we never talked about, for he embarrassed the family name. Don't ask about him, Cathan, my parents had always told me. He doesn't have a story. And my mom, suddenly so focused on her career, very rarely spoke to me anymore. She had gone to college to get a degree and had returned to prove to us that she was capable of putting food on the plate. I also have an older brother and an older sister somewhere, but I don't know where they are. I don't think I've ever even met them.

That's my family in a nutshell. You can see why I question whether I had a normal life. And school…I liked school, because it gave me the chance to get the hell out of the house and away from my family. But no one ever spoke to me. My family never took me shopping, so I usually had hand-me-downs that were ragged and dirty. I looked homeless compared to the other girls at school. Faces fell when the other kids realized I had a class with them, as faces usually do. I was the kind of person who sat in the very back of the class, grumpily answered questions when called on, and always hung in the corner during gym, imagining no one could see me not participating. My grades weren't terrible though. I was deathly afraid of failing, because once I finished school and moved out, that would be my only chance for a better life.

Such a happy description of my life before the…change, I guess I could call it. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed, if the change had not occurred, where would I be right now? It's impossible to tell.

My story starts in the very middle of summer, kneeling over my uncle's truck, putting diesel oil in the truck's engine, which was parked by the river. He apparently needed this done every day in the morning, for whatever job he had. Mom and I never spoke to him even though we live together, and he never said anything about himself either. Most of the time he acted like we weren't there…unless he was drunk.

Anyway, I dumped the diesel oil in the truck's engine. Now I was free to do whatever I wanted for the rest of the day. Mom was at work, as she usually was, so I was determined to be as far away from the house as I could.

Stepping away from the car, I turned to go into the garage and put away the oil, when a voice like a bullfrog's made me start. I whipped around, tripping over a small rock, and threw my hand out to break my fall – which was the hand that held the can of oil. I watched, with a sinking sensation, as the oil emptied into the river, rushing down the small waterfall.

An awful laugh sounded from my front porch and I turned to see my uncle standing there, clutching his enormous stomach and laughing at me, with a can of beer in the other hand. He was tall, with stringy black, matted hair that he didn't bother washing, wearing shorts and a long t-shirt. He stopped laughing suddenly and scanned the area with his beady eyes, which made him resemble a pig, then looked at me and beckoned. His angry, drunken expression had returned.

"Girl!" he growled in his low voice. "Get in here!"

I do have a name, you know, I thought bitterly, climbing to my feet with the can of oil dripping. It's Cathan. And it wouldn't hurt at all for you to use it. Of course, though, I wouldn't dare say that aloud, because I knew what would happen when I made my uncle angry.

I followed him into the house, another sinking sensation enveloping my stomach. My house was only one-story, and I was the only one who bothered to clean it, because I never could stand messes. I felt like my only purpose in the house was to be a sort of maid. Which really, wasn't the best way to think of you at all.

My stupid uncle led me into the hallway, his boots creaking on the wooden floor, and stopped suddenly. I nearly ran into him.

"Look at that," he snarled, pointing a grubby hand at something in front of him. I turned to look.

It was the vacuum cleaner, and it was lying in the middle of the floor. Whoop-de-fricking-doo. I blinked and looked back at my uncle, who looked even more furious.

"I just tripped over that!" he cried, angry that I couldn't understand. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, the disgusting slob. "And I know you were the one using it!"

Oh. That was the matter. I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. It was hard to be reasonable when he was this drunk. "Sorry," I said with a weak smile. "I'll pick it up right away."

He glared, took another swig of beer, and snarled, "You're not getting away with it that easily – you put it there, I know you did!"

Back away, get away, maybe you can get away this time –

I felt a doughy hand smack suddenly across my face with a loud smacking sound. My head jerked back and my eyes watered. I think I saw stars too. I fell back against the wooden floor and stared through my tears at my uncle, who was standing there with his hand raised, prepared to hit me again. Move! my frantic mind screamed. Get away, move!

I scrambled to my feet just as my uncle's second blow came down. I fell across the floor again, but got up quickly, ignoring the pain in my face. I could see my uncle drunkenly try to hit me again as I ran down the hall, but he missed, stumbled, and landed on the floor. Drunken bastard.

I ran to my room three doors down, went inside, slammed the door shut, and locked it. I gingerly wiped the tears from my eyes and felt the bruise on my face. It stung when I touched it. Slowly, I made my way across my room and sat in front of the vanity table, looking into the mirror.

A girl of almost fifteen stared back at me, with long, straight black hair and pale blue eyes, which at that moment were full of tears. There was an awful purple bruise below my left eye. Another day of trying to get makeup to cover it, dammit. I opened up the drawer and set to work.

I jumped when a furry head brushed my elbow and I looked down to see my ginger cat there, sitting on the bench. He purred loudly and looked up at me with those green eyes.

I reached out to pet him. "Rusty," I murmured, stroking his ears. This young kitten was the only living thing in the house that really paid me any attention. I don't really know what I'd do without him.

And then, quite suddenly, I wasn't where I thought I was.

I was low to the ground, in the forest, my legs scrambling as I chased something through the low undergrowth. I pounced suddenly, my claws outstretched, and when I landed there was a mouse between them. I killed it quickly, picked it up in my mouth, and looked around.

"Excellent," a voice called, and I turned to see a large black and gray tabby cat standing there, his tail swishing proudly.

"Thank you," I replied, dipping my head. A feeling of satisfaction rippled through me.

My head gave a jerk and I was sitting in front of a mirror again, my heart racing. What the hell was that? I stared into the mirror, at my pale face, and gasped loudly when I looked into my own eyes…the pupils had become slit-like.

I scrambled off the bench, away from the mirror, and lay down on my bed in a huff. Rusty came hurrying over to make sure I wasn't alone. I must be going insane, I thought wildly. I could have sworn I thought I was a…

I looked over at Rusty, who gave another purr. A cat, I thought, and closed my eyes, falling asleep in the middle of the day.

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I awoke suddenly and glanced out my window. It was getting dark, I could see the sunset. It must have been about seven or eight o' clock. If I hurried, I could eat dinner and go back to bed again.

I sat up and looked around for Rusty, to pet and let him know he was my favorite cat, but he wasn't around…he wasn't on my bed or anywhere. I looked out the window and saw that I had left it open. Oh, God, I thought, my heart sinking as I ran to the window. Rusty's never been outside before… I looked at the sky, and, to my horror, saw the lightning crack above the trees. And he's not coming back, either, I thought as ice flooded through my veins. Not after this storm.

I sank down to the floor, wishing, suddenly, that I could be someone else, anyone else. I hated my life, I really, really did. I wondered if every other girl had this many misfortunes.

My stomach rumbled and I headed out of my room toward the kitchen.

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Yay, first chapter done! As I've said before, this is not going to be canon, meaning it will not follow the books, so Redtail won't die and I don't think Tigerclaw will be evil (as of yet).

I will most likely update tomorrow unless I have a lot of homework. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please leave a review!