The Weight of Honor (Oneshot)

The small tom's head was spinning and he had trouble keeping his paws under him. Tornpelt had tried to forcibly order him to remain in the Medicine Den with Eveningblaze but Littleflame would not have it. He should be out -hunting. patrolling. working. He could not just sit around a den all day! He needed to do something. He was going hunting. Yes. Hunting. Duskblaze would be mad at him though. He forgot why. Something. Something important. He was in trouble or grounded or some other whatsit. Supposed to stay in camp. Tornpelt thought he was supposed to stay in the Medicine Den. Daft woman. He was fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. He just needed food! That's what it was! So long since food. Littleflame did not need to sit and calm down. Littleflame needed to food! But all they brought him was mice. mice. mice. Mice and voles and fish. He needed food! What was wrong with them? But Duskblaze, no no no, Duskblaze says stay in camp. Littleflame had had quite enough of camp! Littleflame could manage no food if he had something to keep his mind going but in camp? No mind. No going. No food. He needed food. He really needed food. After several days of agony, he had had enough! You hear him? Enough! That was what he had! He was hunting. That was that. And Duskblaze and Eveningblaze and Tornblaze and all them can just go stuff a magpie. He was-! Ah. His ears were ringing. His paws fumbled underneath him and somehow the ground rose up to smack into his face. He pushed it away like a drunk shoving off a concerned friend. Not that the orange tabby was drunk mind you. Oh no. No sir. He would never do such a thing. Well, maybe once. Twice. In his youth, but no, the point was drunk was more fun than this. 

Littleflame stumbled against a bush, no wait, it was a rock wall. Ah. No. Wrong again. It was a tree. He was pretty sure it was a tree. Foggy green eyes peered quite seriously at the object he had been leaning against, but then his head was leaning back too far and the ground was suddenly splashing up against his back to catch him none too gently. Littleflame tried to claw himself back onto his feet, but then his injured paw was wrenched and he yowled out in pain. This made the tom start in surprise. Had he just made that noise? He did? Really? He was always so disciplined. He never let those sounds fly free. The tom blinked. He blinked again. He had lost his train of thought.

At least his stomach did not hurt anymore. No, that had stopped about half a week ago. He blearily remembered that was not a good sign from his days with the Kinsfolk. He was acting funny. Delery. Delerysus. Delysious. Delirious? Yup. That was it. Likely. Probably. Maybe. The treetops were spinning like a top overhead.

It wasn't the Kinsfolk he had to worry about now though. Oh no. Tornpelt. Eveningblaze. Both of them were on him like... like... well like something that was always on something else and was very difficult to be removed. So he had lost a few pounds, so what? And they had even gone and got Turtlefrost and Patchpaw on their sides too! Always bothering him. When did he last eat? Was he sick? He was going to catch cold at this rate and he was not taking a single damn herb as far as Eveningblaze was concerned! Although Littleflame somehow doubted the surly tom had been serious on that one. Patchpaw had actually been scared when she looked at him.

Littleflame's head wobbled up to look down at his flank. Damn. He was scared to look at him. His ribs stuck out like bent twigs. His legs were thin enough he would bet an apprentice could snap them with their teeth. His tail looked like a string of bones with a thin sheet of fur on tom. Holding his head up was too much effort though. The orange tom let it flop back down into the mud where he lay. He blinked.

Something poked his side.

Littleflame opened his eyes to see wide, big teal eyes staring down at him, set in a massive, fluffy face.

"Oh thank goodness! I thought you were dead!" the cat breathed. How had she sneaked up on him like that? He had just blinked and -poof!

"I'm hunting," the tom mumbled out.

The fluffy face smiled. "I'm Summit."

Littleflame frowned at it and shook his head. "No. I'm out hunting. Need to food. Not to sit. Tornblaze and Duskhaze all sit. No to food." Things were getting jumbled up in his head. He could not remember how he had gotten here. Where was here anyway? Had the sun been there earlier? He thought it had been Dawn when he left. It looked Mid-dayish. It was hard to tell. Too much tree spinning in the way. He looked at the fuzzy face as it started talking again. It had a nice voice.

"You... want to hunt?" the fluffy face said skeptically. "I don't know if you can do that on your back."

"Nice voice. Very fuzzy," Littleflame informed her seriously.

The fluffy face frowned. "I think I will just go get you food," it decided.

"No Mice!" Littleflame told the voice emphatically. Always mice. No mice. mice. mice.

"Okay then I'll just-"

"No voles."

"I can do that I ju-"

"No fish."

"Well what do you want?" the fluffy face finally demanded.

"Possum," the tom answered immediately. "Or beaver. Or goat. Or weasel. Or snake. Not weasel. Too strong for weasel. Used to not be. Now too strong." Littleflame looked over at the fluffy face, his green eyes heartbroken. "Weasel used to be my favorite, you know? Then I got too strong. I was so sad. But honor! Always Honor!"

The orange tom trailed off in his mutterings. Honor. Always Honor. To the last! Honor! Always. Always. Always. 

Something thumped against his chest.

Littleflame blinked. Oh! A weasel! He would love one of those! Where did it come from though? He looked around vaguely, trying to understand the prey's mystical appearance. Oh hey! Fluffy Face! There she was! When had she gone? She must be a fast hunter! Although -when had it gotten dark? Had it always been dark? Maybe it had always been dark. Yes. Littleflame remembered this. It was dawn. He had left at dawn, hadn't he? It should be dark.

He rolled over. Oh his head whirled. Rolling was hard. He almost rolled too far and ended up back on his back again. He looked at the weasel. He wanted it. He wanted it. But honor. Always honor. He sighed and pushed it away.

"What's wrong?" a voice demanded.

He looked up. Fluffy Face was next to him. She looked crestfallen. Not that she had a crest. Or had fallen. Hadn't he fallen? Somewhere? By a wall or a tree or something? "Too strong. Has to be a fight. That is honor. Has to honor," Littleflame informed her sadly.

Now Fluffy Face snorted. "You think it wasn't? I haven't learned my hunting song yet! This is all new! That thing nearly clawed my eyes out three times and now I have all these scratches that really sting if you must know and my neck has more teeth marks than I ever want again! Just look!"

The shecat pushed aside her bushy fur in several places for his inspection. It was difficult because she was really close one second but really far away the next, but after a little bit of squinting and leaning Littleflame did indeed see several bright red scrapes and a surprising amount of blood caught in the fur. Huh. You would think this cat had never hunted a weasel before!

Still, it meant she had been forced to fight for her prey and that was good enough for Littleflame. Hot coals! He was going to get weasel! He hadn't had weasel since he was a young Squire! The tom launched into his meal with a childish glee. The morsel was gobbled up and gone in minutes but he still went back over each piece, savoring every last nibble of food there was to be had until only pearly white bones and a bit of fur remained. 

"Thank you," he breathed. All that food made him sleepy. He closed his eyes- but Fluffy Face was shaking him! He frowned in confusion at her.

"Are you just going to go to sleep like that out in the open?" she asked, aghast. "Won't you get sick?"

"I have a den," he mewed, affronted at the very idea he would sleep without a den. He had one. It was just...

Littleflame looked around in confusion. Where was his den? Where was he? He was not supposed to leave camp. Duskblaze would be mad. Tornpelt too. She wanted him with Eveningblaze. Eveningblaze did not want to help those that did not help themselves, or so he said. But how could Littleflame help himself if he could not leave camp? But how had he left camp now? And where had his den gone? Duskblaze would be-

"You have a nice song, but it has the strangest phrases I have ever heard," Fluffy Face mewed with a frown. Littleflame blinked at her uncomprehendingly. Who was singing? Were the hills alive with the sound of music? He had heard about that once. It sounded terrifying. The small orange tom looked around for any suspicious hills. Fluffy Face looked concerned too. 

"I have to go," Fluffy Face told him. "My daddy is going to be worried about me. I never leave for this long."

"Daddy?" Littleflame questioned. Just how old was this cat? She was almost as big as he was and yet she said 'daddy'?

"Yes," Fluffy Face said with a nod and a strange look. "Don't you have a Daddy?"

"I have a Father," Littleflame corrected sternly. "And girls with Daddys should always mind their manners." Littleflame had never had much to do with young shekits or young shecats, but what little he remembered from the Kinsfolk was that their manners should always be minded.

"I know my manners!" Fluffy Face told him quickly, blue eyes wide and earnest.

"I know my manners, sir," Littleflame corrected.

"I know my manners, sir," Fluffy Face mimicked with an obedient bow of her head.

Littleflame nodded in approval and Fluffy Face smiled. It was a nice smile. Nice voice. Nice smile. Nice shecat. Yes. 

"Uhm... Can I at least help you under this bush?" Fluffy Face asked.

"Can I at least help you under this bush, sir," he corrected.

"Can I at least help you under this bush, sir?" she eagerly amended.

Littleflame looked at the nearby bush with a frown. Why did he need help with it? What was special about it? Wasn't he supposed to be doing something? But, as tiredness made the tom's eyes yearn to close he let Fluffy Face lead him over without further complaint. He settled down. Now what? He turned to Fluffy Face to ask what was so special about the bush but she had disappeared. The orange tom put his head on his paws to puzzle over this latest development. He blinked.


"Good morning!"

Littleflame blinked open his eyes. Ah. Fluffy Face. So that was where she had gotten off to. "Good morning, sir," he corrected, without much thought.

"Good morning, sir," she sang back at him, her smile widening.

"I'm sorry I took so long. It took me a while to find another weasel. I think I did better this time though! My Daddy got quite frantic when he saw my fur last night and  when I started asking about beavers and snakes, he said I must not ever hunt those. He told me they are dangerous. Do you hunt those?" she asked, then caught Littleflame's look and hastily tacked on, "Do you hunt those, sir?"

Littleflame nodded approvingly. He still felt  dazed. The earth was still unsteady. He ignored it though. "Of course. It is the only prey that is honorable," he told her firmly. 

Fluffy Face put a weasel in front of him. Hmmmmm. Weasel. He loved weasel. It had been his favorite once upon a time -before he got too strong to catch it anymore. He eagerly bit in as Fluffy Face settled down beside him.

"What is honor, sir?" she asked. "Does it make them extra tasty?"

Littleflame looked at the shecat -or should he say shekit?!- in shock. Just how young was this cat? She did not know about honor? Or manners? Clearly her Daddy had been lacking in her training. No concept of Honor! It was unbelievable! And so, Littleflame talked. He talked and talked and talked until long after the weasel had been picked down to the bones. Fluffy Face listened raptly, with fascination, soaking in all he cared to tell like a wet piece of moss. 

It only took a little over an hour for Littleflame's stomach to protest though. He blinked, noticing the change in time and halting in his speech. It was midday. He had a vague recollection of leaving the camp at dawn. He had needed to go hunting. He winced as he realized how angry Duskblaze would be. He should have stayed at camp. He was so hungry though. He did not remember being hungry before, but now he definitely was. He suspected that had a lot to do with the weasel. His body had simply accepted the hunger as a fact of life. Now that it saw a chance of receiving food, though, it would be unsaitable. He rose to his paws.

"Well, Fluffy Face, I think-"

"Fluffy Face, sir?" Fluffy Face asked him curiously.

"Yes?" Litteflame asked.

"I thought your name was Hunting, sir?" 

Now Littleflame was the one looking at Fluffy Face curiously. "How ever did you get that idea? No. My name is Littleflame, Fluffy Face."

"Littleflame Fluffy Face? That is an awfully long name, sir."

"No, no. My name is just Littleflame. Your name is Fluffy Face."

"My name is not Fluffy Face."

"My name is not Fluffy Face, sir."

"My name is not Fluffy Face, sir."

"Well then what is your name?"

"Summit. -sir."

"It is nice to meet you then, Summit."

"But you've already met me, sir."

Littleflame looked at the large but kit-like shecat before him. Summit looked back at the tiny but older-acting tom before her. So strange. The other was so strange.

"Hasn't your father taught you proper greetings?" the orange tom asked. 

Summit shrugged. "I don't do much greeting to be honest, sir," she told him. "And I don't have one those."

"You should always be honest," Littleflame chastised immediately, but then he was confused again. "And you don't have one of what?"

"A father. I have a Daddy though. Although..." Summit's big blue-green eyes got even bigger and brighter as she looked up at him. "Would you be my new Father, sir?" the shecat -shekit?- asked excitedly. "I've been wanting to find one and you seem so very nice. You have the strangest music, but I love it so! And you know so very much, sir! I'm sure my Daddy would love you!"

Littleflame... had no idea what to say to that or what that strange question even meant. He offered a weak smile and waved his tail for the woods.

"Why don't we go hunting now and I can meet your Daddy later?" he offered. This seemed to suffice.

Summit was not a bad hunter, although she had practically zero training and very limited patience. They spent the whole rest of the day working on her crouches, which were abominable for a cat of her age -but more and more Littleflame questioned what exactly that age was. He had initially pegged her as at least 10 moons, but she acted far closer to 7. Or younger. Surely she could not be younger? Not with her size being as it was? She would have to be the descendant of some sort of monster-sized cat for that to be even possible.

Littleflame did get to eat two more weasels before the day was out though. He felt his strength and his good sense returning to him now. It was only a little bit, and would take much more food and time for him to recover completely, but it was enough for him to start forging his way back to camp. From what he could gather, he had wandered southeast quite a ways. He was sure several cats in the clan would have gone looking for him -especially knowing the troubled state he had been in, but with all the water and rivers he must have stumbled through, it was no surprise no one had found him yet. He would likely need to get closer to camp before he ran into anyone.

Guilt gnawed at the tom's mind. He should not have left his Mistress alone. He should not have disobeyed Duskblaze. Somehow he doubted a plea of temporary insanity would sway the fierce Marsh Clan leader, and Littleflame was too honorable to shirk any responsibility in the first place, regardless of how... incapacitated he might have been.

"Summit," the tom mewed as the day came to a close, "I think it is time I go home now."

"Back to the bush, sir?" the shekit asked.

"No," Littleflame told her patiently. He was beginning to accept the little calico's lack of understanding about most things. "I live in a clan. A big group of cats who will miss me."

"Oh. Is it far away, sir?"

Littleflame wished he knew that answer himself. Still, he had only been traveling for one morning... hadn't he? It felt like longer. He had a vague recollection of more time passing than he thought, but could not be sure either way. It might have just been a strange dream. This whole trip felt like a strange dream, with the strangest, sweetest, and most unexpected centerpiece -a mangey blackish brown shecat right next to him gleefully tearing into her very own rabbit. (Littleflame had said since Summit was so new to hunting that any prey would be an honorable catch for her and so they had gone for the rabbit rather then reduce the already dwindling weasel population further).

"I'll make it," he mewed simply. 

They were quiet for a time.

"You could come with me," the orange tabby offered, not wanting to leave such a sweet shekit out here alone. She said she had a Daddy, but Littleflame had yet to see this cat and was not sure the young Summit was entirely clear on how parents worked as she said she had 'a Daddy but not a Father'.

The little scruff of fur pounced to her paws excitedly. "Really?" she asked. Littleflame quirked a brow at her. "Really, sir?" she hastily amended.

Littleflame nodded.

"Oh how exciting! Are there really very many cats, sir? What do they sing of? What is their music like, sir? Is it like yours? Do they all have honor, sir? It will be so wonderful to meet them! Ah- but- er- oh."

The shecat's excitement stumbled and tripped and trickled to a halt.


"I have to ask my Daddy first, sir," she told him. "Will you come with? I can tell him you're my Father! He will love you, sir, I know it!"

Littleflame was... very confused. One second this shecat made perfect sense and the next he was completely lost. Even so, he nodded and let the bouncing-with-delight Summit lead him off toward... er... her Daddy?