C H A P T E R 1
I'm part of a prophecy. Actually, I am the prophecy.
What a way to start a conversation, or even a story if I live to tell it. Ha, I can count on my claws the number of cats who are good enough kill me now; I have wits enough to stay well away from them.
So if you see this, it must mean it's part of the story; it must mean I lived. That's a good thing I suppose, I still have plenty of things to do on this earth before I go. But what happened in between? How did the prophecy end?
Hmm, well, that's for you to find out.
It all started when I was an apprentice. My mentor, Raintalon, was supposed to show me around the territory for the first time that day.
"That's not fair! I have to fetch moss for the elders!"
"I had to search them for ticks yesterday and clean the nursery. I deserve to go out. All you did was snore!" I retorted smugly, feeling satisfaction as Honeypaw whipped around and stomped out of camp, her light yellow tail lashing as she left.
"Mosspaw!" The tortoiseshell fur on my shoulders rose as I heard my mentor call out from across the hollow. I knew he had heard our quarrel, but I hadn't done anything wrong; I only told the truth. Honeypaw had slept all day while I had to do chores. I deserved to do something fun for doing all that boring work. "That's no way to treat a clanmate, let alone your own sister. You will go apologize after we get back." He stepped past me and into the thorn tunnel leading into the forest.
I followed, glad I hadn't been punished with elder duty and was still able to go out into the forest. I know my pale green eyes were glowing in excitement as I followed Raintalon's dark gray speckled form as we cut through the dense bushes.
Sights, scents and noises filled my senses to the brim as I padded through the forest. My mouth opened wide in awe as I tried to spin my head in every direction at once as to see everything I could. I could hear jays crying in the trees, I could smell the earthy smell of ferns and I could see green everywhere. Everything was just green, green and more green. I loved it.
I stopped abruptly; a wild, tangy scent filled my nose and knocked me back almost like I had ran into a tree. "Got your first wiff of WindClan, eh?" Raintalon said in amusement. "We're almost at the border." I shook my head to clear some of the stench away before stepping forward and following my mentor through the last of the thick trees to the bank of a thin stream.
"Is this the border?" I asked, padding over to the bank and splashing a paw to the warm water; my eyes growing wide as ripples spread out from beneath it, starting small, but growing until they reached the far bank.
This is your fate, Mosspaw. You will start small, but gain power until you will rule the whole forest.
I jerked back from the water, cutting off the deep voice echoing in my head. A surge of raw energy raced through my body making my fur prickle before dissipating into the river with a small ripple and a sigh. What wasthat thing? I thought in confusion, shaking out my fur. "Don't like the water?" Raintalon purred, coming up behind me.
I thought about how odd I must have looked and hastily nodded, glad for the excuse. "Yes. It's... wet," I finished lamely. Wet? Really? I mentally scolded myself, but Raintalon just flicked his ears in agreement.
"I never liked the water either. The only time I try to touch it is in one of Featherheart's swimming lessons. Speaking of which, you might be having your first lesson tomorrow or the next," he announced. I brightened up, glad of one more guaranteed day out of camp, the idea of spending it with Featherheart doing nothing to dampen it.
My tail flicked up as I remembered something I meant to ask as soon as we got out of camp. "Has Foxpaw been out yet? I didn't have a chance to talk to him."
"Not to the borders. He was out helping Swallowsun gather herbs. But he might have seen more than us if we stand here all day," Raintalon mewed, starting forward along the stream.
I purred and jumped forward, full of energy once again. The whispers of the river followed me as I walked. "Remember this scent. You'll need to be able to find out who's the allies and who are the enemies in a heartbeat in the middle of a battle." I nodded, sure I could pick out this scent wherever and whenever Raintalon pleased.
The ferns started to grow thicker as we followed the border and we were forced to go closer to the border, even splashing our paws in the shallows when the bank forced us off. I wrinkled my nose; the scent of WindClan overwhelming my senses. It smelled like it was all around me, consuming me.
"Raintalon," I mewed hesitantly, "I think-"
But I never got to finish speaking as a large tom stinking of WindClan bowled me over and pushed my face into the dirt. Violent splashes in the river followed, as was a smacking of many bodies through the bush. I heard Raintalon hiss before being abruptly cut off. "Don't move or else your apprentice here is crow-food!"
C H A P T E R 2
My eyes grew wide in shock as I scrabbled my paws against the ground uselessly.
He was a full grown warrior with moons of experience.
I was little more than a kit and had no training whatsoever.
This was not a fair fight in any way, shape, or form.
And I was not going to deal with it.
I went limp, making sure I looked defeated and tired. I swear I saw arrogance flicker across his face. The emotion of a cat who knew they were winning and their opponents couldn't do anything in return. Perfect.
"What do you want?" I heard Raintalon growl. I couldn't see him from my position on the ground, but I knew his dark gray fur would be bristled, his long, deadly claws unsheathed and fangs bared. I could hear several different shufflings move around me and knew there were even more warriors coming to surround the fierce ThunderClan warrior.
I squinted my eyes and listened harder.
I didn’t think there were any behind me.
"Redstar sent us to deliver a message. This land belongs to WindClan now. Tell Scorchstar to keep his warriors out; we will guard this section of forest as heavily as the rest of our territory," I heard a cat respond in a silky voice.
I hated him for doing this to me.
His voice, forever imprinted on my brain, is the one on which my fury would gain revenge.
One day.
I heard more leaves rustle around, but my head was still firmly clamped the other direction and I couldn't see anything going on. "Then let us go and tell him that." I heard calmness enter Raintalon's mew as I figured he realized they would let us go.
I relaxed for real this time, glad I hadn't had to try my risky escape. I trusted my mentor's judgment.
"Hmmm..." the cat mewed, "we are under orders to deliver the message in any way possible. Maybe we should... show how fiercely we'll defend our new borders. I think sending a little reminder will help you convince Scorchstar to stay away from our land, wouldn't you agree?" I heard the distinct click of claws unsheathing followed by a chorus of hoots from the WindClan warriors.
I had to do something.
Now.
I took a deep breath, calming the boiling rage inside me. I closed my eyes.
One. I heard the tom step closer to Raintalon. In that heartbeat, a image of the cat, a dusty tan tom, flashed behind my closed eyelids, his ivory claws raised right in front of my mentor's face. Taunting him to attack first, torturing him by forcing him to wait.
Two. The crowd seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. The forest went silent as if it knew of the atrocities committed just outside the border. I could feel the cat holding me shift his weight to get a better view...
Three! I thrust my body out from under the tom and pushed my way out into the forest, all my thoughts focused on getting back to camp in time to warn Scorchstar of what was happening.
I raced down the trail leading back to camp, my paws flying over the ground, my tail streaming behind me. The green forest that had awed me before passed in a blur. I ignored the new sights and smells, disregarded everything but the path in front of me.
I burst out of the trees to find my paws sloshing in water.
The lake! The large expanse of water took my breath away as I stood at the bank, a great expanse of blue as great as the sky reflected down below. With a growl I threw my curiosity off and swiftly turned and ran back into the forest, intent on finding my way back home.
I was lost.
In my own territory.
StarClan help me! I need to get to camp! My paws started to slow and my lungs felt like liquid fire as I ran cluelessly around the massive forest territory. The forest began to blur again, but this time not from speed. The beating of my paws matched my heart, slowing and slowing. . .
Then a dark brown tabby materialized beside me, his pawsteps matching mine stride for stride. Slowly, I felt energy return to my limbs, the fire in my lungs quenched as cooling water flowed down my throat.
"Follow this trail, It'll lead you to your camp," he mewed in a strong voice. "You were right to leave your mentor. You are meant to survive, thrive! It's your fate, your destiny. Don't let anything get in the way."
I found myself nodding, slowing as I noticed we were already drawing towards the edge of the hollow. The tabby bared his fangs, his ice-blue eyes bright as he drew ahead. "Remember, you are meant to rule the forest!"
I stopped at the rim of the hollow and watched as the tabby flung himself off the edge and disappeared into the air.
I stood in awe, feeling like I'd been touched by a god.
Which in a way, I had.
C H A P T E R 3
"No!" I yowled, throwing myself at the bundle of gray-and-red fur that was once my mentor. I shoved my muzzle into his pelt, whimpering. The blood that stained his pelt dripped onto my paws, turning the brown-and-white fur a dark, dark red.
If I would have stayed and fought.
If I hadn't run.
He would still be alive.
"Scorchstar, we chased them off. They won't be so quick to take ThunderClan land again."
My eyes, dull from exhaustion, barely took in the white coat of Birchcloud, the deputy. She had a long, ragged gash parting her long fur and one of her green eyes was starting to swell, but she held herself high as she reported to the black-and-ginger patched leader.
I hardly noticed when Cherryfall wailed and ran over to bury her nose in her mate's fur and the rest of the patrol came around to grieve. Exhaustion and misery made my eyes droop despite the commotion and soon I felt darkness tug me out of my body and into dreams, my nose still buried in Raintalon's lifeless fur.
I jolted awake when I felt something hard prod my flank. I blinked open my eyes to see the deep orange fur of my only brother, Foxpaw, standing over me. I sat up stiffly, wondering why I was outside, before remembering what had happened the previous day. Frantically scanning the clearing, I barely caught a glimpse of Raintalon's tail dragging out of the hollow leaving a furrow of sand in its wake before he was gone.
Forever.
I tensed, determined to stay collected and conscious of my surroundings instead of drifting off into sorrow over my mentor's death.
Over his murder.
One that I could have prevented.
The thought stabbed at me, again and again, claws slashing down my sides. If I hadn’t run, if I wasn’t a coward, if WindClan hadn’t broken the code. . .
Through the pain, I was able to find another emotion: one I gripped onto as if it was a lifeline; one that gave me strength and purpose past being a warrior; one I knew was unbreakable.
Revenge.
C H A P T E R 4
I yawned, waking just before the sun touched the lake shore. I padded silently out of my den and into the clearing, leaving the four other apprentices-- my siblings: Honeypaw and Foxpaw, and Rosebreeze's kits: Thrushpaw and Icepaw-- asleep in their dens.
I was assigned a new mentor the day after Raintalon's death a couple moons ago. Scorchstar tried to get Redstar to punish his warriors for killing Raintalon in cold blood at the next gathering, but his warriors had just complained it was for self-defense as Raintalon had attacked them first.
There was not a scratch on any of those rabbit-munchers.
My first time out I was attacked by WindClan.
My first gathering, ruined by some lying WindClan warriors.
I was starting to hate WindClan.
"Come on, Mosspaw. Too late for fresh-kill; you can hunt while we're on dawn patrol if you're hungry." I blinked, jolted out of my memories by Heronfoot, my mentor. I padded over to the patrol, taking in the sight of Heronfoot again.
He looked so... out of place in ThunderClan it was hard not to stare. Every long, coarse hair on his light brown pelt screamed RiverClan and his paws were large and flat; just what RiverClan cats needed to swim. His tail was long and curling with a white tipped plume on the top and white streaked his legs and shoulders.
The only thing normal was his eyes; the same mint green as his ThunderClan mother, Sageflower.
The rest of him looked exactly like Minnowflight, his father. His RiverClan father.
I could tell being half-Clan bothered him, but he didn't act like a RiverClan cat nor did he smell like one. He was a good fighter even if hunting in the brambles gave him trouble. He never complained or reacted when people brought up his heritage. He was strong for carrying the burden f his parents.
I respected him for that.
The rest of the patrol was comprised of Halfwing-- a gray she-cat with a stumpy tail-- and Cloudheart-- a white she-cat supposedly distantly related to Cloudtail and, through him, the legendary Firestar.
I didn't believe her. It's been too long since the cats of prophecies had roamed the forest to even know who was descendants of them. Every kit heard the stories passed down from elder to elder about the Great Journey, the Three, Firestar and Tigerstar, the Battle of the Stars, and even the war with BloodClan in the old territories and wished they were related to those cats or that there would be more prophecies soon.
It never happened.
Most cats are starting to think the elder's stories are just stories; tales spun from a cat with a big imagination.
I don't know what to think anymore.
Maybe they--
"Merow!" I exclaimed, tumbling down the hill, my paw throbbing where it jammed on a root.
The briars caught on my fur as I felt, pulling and tugging on my skin. Dirt pushed into my pelt and the grime made my pelt crawl in disgust. Finally, I rolled to a stop in a clump of grass.
The forest felt different here.
Dark.
Unfamiliar.
I sat up and shook off my pelt, dislodging some of the offending dirt and leaves. I looked around for my Clanmates and saw them picking their way down the steep hill.
I felt something behind me, the fur on my shoulders rising. I turned, finding myself eye to eye with a furious ShadowClan warrior.
Why is it always me?
C H A P T E R 5
"Prey-stealer!" she hissed. The warrior in front of me was a small gray-and-white tabby she-cat, her muzzle short and flat against her skull. Her fur, long and perfectly groomed, shone in the light dappling the forest floor.
I thought she would have been pretty if there wasn't a snarl splitting her face like a puckered scar.
I flicked my tail, trying to keep my voice calm although I was seething inside. Didn't this cat have eyes? I must’ve sent an avalanche down that hill. "I fell down the hill."
The small tabby flattened her ears and stepped towards me. I noticed her paws were tense, her claws not yet unsheathed, but ready to do so at a moment’s notice. "How do I know you didn't fall on purpose just to get into our territory?" Her voice was laced with anger as potent as poison.
"Um. Because it hurt," I responded sarcastically, gesturing to the torn fur on my broad shoulders. The small scrapes only bled a little, but man did they sting.
She seemed to see me for the first time then. She shook her head and backed away, the snarl melting from her face. "You're the one whose mentor was murdered. You must still be grieving. You're not prepared for a fight yet; I'd be surprised if you could bring yourself to fight another cat again after that. My apologies."
I blinked in shock before narrowing my eyes again in anger, rage tinting the forest red. I might still yearn to avenge his death, still vividly image my claws slicing through those fox-hearted WindClan warrior's throats one by one, but I was not weak.
Not if I wanted to destroy those cowardly rabbit-munchers for good.
I was strong.
I had to be.
"I don't want your pity!" I yowled, lunging at her horror-filled face with a shudder of rage. I threw her to the ground, landing on top of her and pinning the small warrior down with my immense size. I looked into her eyes, red in color from the haze that covered my own. "I am just as strong as any other cat. Stronger. I don't need protection. I don't need pity. I'm the one all of you should look up to," I roared, my spit flying into her fur.
"That's. My. Destiny!" I punctuated each word with a swipe of my claws into her throat, watching as the crimson liquid stained my paws red.
Just like Raintalon's had.
The life drained out of her, turning her eyes dull and glassy, her struggles to escape my paws growing feebler and feebler until she was only trembling on the ground. Once she stopped shaking, I stepped off the body and turned back into my own territory.
I had just killed.
And it wasn't as hard as I thought.
C H A P T E R 6
I made a detour towards the lake to where the stream veered out of ShadowClan territory to mark the border with ThunderClan.
I sure couldn’t go back looking like this.
Slowly, the green of the forest started to enter my vision, beating out the redness. It was calming being on my own territory. The ferns rustled gently as I wove through them, my trail invisible.
I wondered what I would tell the patrol when I got back. I could surely say I found the body and fled, remembering Raintalon. No one would ever suspect me. I was only an apprentice.
I could also say I hit my head coming down and had a hard time finding my way back.
But that would probably land me in the medicine cat den with only Featherheart for company. I shivered, revolted by the thought.
Featherheart may have been handsome once, but now…
I thought he really needed a thorough washing.
Or two.
It didn’t take long before I was standing in the shallows—on ThunderClan’s bank of course—watching the ribbons of red leak from my paws to be swept downstream. I felt a chill run up my legs and a cold breeze flattened my fur on my left side.
I turned my head to see the piercing blue eyes I had seen my first day out. His dark tabby paws stood next to mine, the water flowing through them as if he wasn’t actually there.
Which if he was a StarClan warrior, he wasn’t. I stared at his paws, the water passing straight through him keeping me enthralled. Suddenly, his paws started leaking red, crimson seeping through his claws, turning the whole river red with blood.
He was just like me.
I let my eyes drift back up to his sharp muzzle. His eyes shone with pride, as if I were his prize apprentice who had just turned a warrior. “You are going to be my apprentice, Mosspaw.” I flinched in shock that he had been able to tell my exact thoughts. “Our training starts tonight, young one.”
I realized I thought of him the perfect mentor, the prime fighter that could teach me everything I ever wanted. The one who could help me defeat WindClan and get my revenge on my early-fallen mentor. I smiled.
Everything was perfect now.
“I’ll be there,” I promised. He just stared at me and nodded before evaporating in a gust of chilling wind, leaving me standing in the river for the ThunderClan patrol to find me.
C H A P T E R 7
"I j-just found her... just lying there. Blood-so much blood. I-I ran. I-I-I didn't think. I just ran. As far as I could. I-I'm sorry for the t-trouble I must've caused at camp," I lied. I forced my body to quiver and shudder, my voice to stutter. It had to feel as if I ran from fear of seeing the body, not fear of being caught.
I watched with glowing pride as I saw Scorchstar's eyes soften as if he were comforting a kit. I almost smiled despite faking being scared out of my wits. Ha. I covered up by letting my head drop as if I were exhausted. "Go to Featherheart. He'll give you herbs for the shock before you can rest."
"Thank you," I whispered before slowly making my way out of the leader's cave. I slowly picked my way down the ledges leading up to the cave, making sure to pause on some of them. I wish I could have leaped down and got it over with, but I had to keep up the act until I was snug in my nest.
I jumped down from the last stone, jarring my shoulder as I landed awkwardly on a patch of uneven ground. I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes in pain before limping over to the medicine cat's den. At least now I had a real reason to be here instead of my fake shock, I thought wryly as I slipped through the bramble screen.
The smell of herbs wreathed around me as I entered. It was pleasant, like the air just after a rain. The effect was completely ruined when I saw movement in the back of the cave and a fresh wave of unwashed cat slapped me in the face like a piece of rotten prey.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust and limped quickly over to an unused nest near the edge of the cave. Featherheart come over to where I sat, a clump of sweet herbs in his mouth. He set them near my paws, motioning to eat them while he went back into the stores. I obeyed and ate them up, the bitter taste almost as bad as Featherheart’s stench. I kept one clover-shaped leaf under my paw, relishing the aroma to chase away the smell of unwashed cat.
But all too soon the off-white tom was back, bringing with him a variety of different herbs. I hope I don’t have to eat all of those, I thought, watching the bundle with wide eyes. As if guessing my thoughts, Featherheart explained them to me. “They’re for your shoulder. I have to treat it with different poultices depending on how severe the strain.”
I nodded; relieved I didn’t have to eat the foul things. One dose was enough.
“Now,” Featherheart mewed, “I have to check and see what’s wrong. It might hurt a little…” He placed his grimy paws on me and I shuddered, both with pain and disgust.
‘It might hurt a little’ my tail. That was defiantly the understatement of the day. By the time Featherheart had stopped probing and started getting the herbs ready, my throat was sore from yowling in agony and my shoulder throbbed harder than it had when I had first twisted it.
But Featherheart must’ve known what he was doing, for as soon as he put the poultice on it had stopped aching almost instantly.
I shifted my body, amazed when it didn’t hurt. “Now you should rest. You’ve had a hard day.”
I nodded numbly, only sub-consciously remembering to keep up the act. Featherheart smiled and turned back to his cave behind the main medicine cave.
Alone for the first time since I entered camp, I let myself relax, a mellow grin spreading over my face.
They didn’t suspect a thing.
Though I never was in shock, I was still just as tired as any cat that had to wake up for dawn patrol and then promptly fell down a hill, so I decided I should be lazy while I could before Heronfoot deemed me ready for training again.
I knew I deserved some time off; I had trained hard, harder than all the others. I needed to be ready as soon as a chance came to punish WindClan. If they stepped a toe over the border, I wanted to be ready.
But now I had my shoulder that needed to heal as well. The best thing I could do was rest, and so I did, quickly falling into a deep sleep. Too late did I remember my meeting with the dark tabby. I couldn’t attend, not with feigning shock and the completely real hurt shoulder. I wondered if he would be angry with me for not being true my promise.
C H A P T E R 8 I snapped awake, feeling a cat’s hard eyes on my fur. Instinctively, my fur bristled and my claws unsheathed, seemingly of their own will. I dropped to a crouch, spinning slowly around to face the cat --for I had the feeling that was who the eyes belonged to, even if I couldn't see it.
The bushes rustled. I darted my eyes over, peering inside from my hidden cove in the long grass. I was intent on my prey. I didn't notice the mostly-dead trees. I didn't notice the flickering lights, the glowing toadstools, the starless skies.
A paw. Then the eyes. The chilling, ice-cold blue eyes. I relaxed, realizing who they belonged to. The images I missed now crowded around my head as the dark brown tom revealed himself fully.
I felt like a kit, letting such a small thing scare me so much. I should have tried scenting first. I should have considered my surroundings. It could have been an ambush, and then I would have been dead.
I should have, I could have, I would have... but I didn't. I made mistakes. A cat like me couldn't make mistakes. Not if she wanted to stay alive. I couldn't. I shouldn't.
And there's those words again.
"Welcome to my home."
I looked around, finally letting the images in my head sink in, have meaning. This wasn't StarClan. At least, I didn't think so.
It must be the Place of No Stars: the Dark Forest, I concluded. It surprised me; the way this news didn't surprise me. I felt I had known before, the first time I had met this mystery cat. He didn't have the air of perfection around him the way I imagined a StarClan cat would feel. He felt more rugged, like a mountain instead of a cloud.
But mountains were sturdy, reliable, unbudging. Powerful. A cloud was just mist. An illusion of mass, but intangible and distant, unable to move even the smallest pebble.
Maybe I needed the help of a mountain.
I looked up into the tabby's icy eyes again as he continued speaking. "I can see inside you a passion of raging fire. Here I can train you, make you unstoppable. You'll get your revenge." His mew was dark, but filled with promises yet unspoken. I greedily held them close. Each word was a new claw scratch against a WindClan rabbit-muncher in my mind.
"Come," he said sharply, turning and bounding through the dead forest with remarkable ease. I started before regaining my thoughts and bolting after him.
I thought the deadness of the forest would make it easier to see through the bare branches, but I was sorely mistaking. The tom's dark pelt blended in with the shadows so well, I had to follow using small flashes of movement that were only slightly out of place, or the faint crackle of leaves underpaw.
Even then, I lost his trail several times over during the trip. Only a single pawprint in the mud or a couple clumps of fur saved my pelt from completely loosing him each of those times.
I noticed the moon had moved from being directly overhead to hovering just over the treetops in front of me. I began to tire, and my paws no longer felt agile as I tripped and stumbled through the wood. But I still continued on. If this was a challenge, then by the stars I wasn't going to lose.
I was strong. I was capable.
I had to be.
In what felt like moons later (although looking back, it couldn't have been more than an hour), I shoved my way through a particularly thick patch of brambles to find my paws wet with a dark sludge. It didn't feel like water, yet it flowed like a river did.
I licked my lips, my tongue and throat dry from the long travel. I didn't know what this... stuff would do to me if I drank it, but right then, I didn't really care. I was thirsty, and this stuff seemed to be a liquid. Just as I bent my head down to drink the foul stuff, I heard a splash of paws beside me. Where they disrupted the current, fresh water, pure and blue, flowed out. "Drink. You deserve it."
I sighed and eagerly lapped up the water, grateful as the cold water flowed down my throat. "You are determined; a good trait in a warrior. It lets you keep your eyes on the end and gives you strength to push through all obstacles in order to get there." My mind subconsciously registered his words as I drank, and, later, splashed back out of the water onto the riverbank.
My thoughts were dull, flattened by a growing fatigue. Now that I had reached the end, nothing was there to keep me going. I hadn't realized how tired I actually was, making my way through the woods. I blinked slowly, realizing the tabby had said something.
Instead of repeating the words --for I knew he noticed I hadn't the strength to decipher them-- he reached his tail out to my back. "Rest. You still have almost half the night before you must wake up again. We can start training tomorrow. Just call me and I'll come."
"Your name?" I slurred, unable to speak properly even when the water had soothed my parched throat. Inwardly, I gathered together the feelings that I thought made up embarrassment over my weakness. Maybe some anger mixed in.
He smiled. "Any cat would be just as weak as you right now, Mosspaw. Seeing that you made it all the way here speaks multitudes of your endurance. Sleep, and you will be rested in the morning. My name. My name is Hawkfrost."
Hawkfrost, I thought, the label having little meaning in my tired mind. The name echoed around in my head, bouncing to and fro until my mind went blank and I collapsed.
C H A P T E R 9
“Faster! Faster! Duck, now swipe!” My pale eyes narrowed as I leaped backwards, my extended claws dripping crimson blood as my opponent’s foreleg crumpled under her weight. More blood dripped out from the leg while the sandy colored she-cat lay on the grass, moaning. Other thin scratches covered her flanks, but the deep gouge on the paw had to be the most painful.
I winced, feeling her pain. My own wounds stung, but all were insignificant compared to the other she-cat’s; mine were barely scrapes, only a couple furs out of place, while hers were still oozing blood. “Good.” Hawkfrost jumped down from his perch on a dead stump where he had been instructing my every move. Some of the training sessions were like this, where he would annotate my battle strategy as I started to learn instinctively of what to do on the spot, what wounds would cause the most pain in the least amount of time. Other times, I would fight alone, hoping my own plans were satisfactory in taking out my contender.
“You’re learning well,” he mewed gruffly. Pride bubbled in my chest, threatening to burst out in display. I pushed it down, knowing keeping control of my emotions was the first step into becoming a warrior.
“I am only this good because I have such a great mentor.” I mewed with a dip of my head. I had learned early on that training hurt less when I was submissive. I remembered vividly the first time I had argued with Hawkfrost; the wounds I gained that night were hard to cover up in the morning. Despite how Hawkfrost had been teaching me about keeping emotions in check, I could see amusement lightening his hard eyes.
Hawkfrost looked over to the she-cat, who was now licking the leg clean. “You did well tonight; Heatherwing is quite hard to subdue. It’s almost morning, time for you to go, Mossclaw.” Mossclaw, I thought, another surge of pride running down my spine. I had been named a full warrior almost a moon ago, but the sound of my new name still felt fresh every time.
I nodded and slipped away silently through the brush to the small clearing I had first arrived in. The long grass there was flattened in the center from my paws as I arrived and exited the Dark Forest. A small nest rested on the edge, woven out of the grass and lined with moss.
I sighed and slipped into the nest, feeling as comfortable as I did in my nest back in ThunderClan. I curled my tortoiseshell fur into the nest, flicked my white-tipped tail over my nose, and closed my eyes.
* * * * *
I opened them to find myself squeezed in between Foxcloud and Honeywhisker. Like usual, Honeywhisker was sprawled out, her hind paws over Foxcloud’s back while one of her forepaws was pushing hard into my chest. My sister had always been a restless sleeper. I reached out a paw and poked her in the side. She flinched against my touch, retracting all legs into her nest as her pale golden eye flicked open. I purred, not meaning to startle her awake, but amused by her reaction. “Dawn patrol. Birchcloud told us last night, remember?” She moaned and flopped back down, covering her muzzle with a paw. I grinned; Honeywhisker had never been an early riser either. “C’mon,” I mewed, getting up.
I slipped out of the large warriors den, the bracken crackling when my spine rubbed up against the fronds. My paws were soaked in dew by the time I made it across the clearing to the camp entrance. Gorsefox and Halftail were also on the dawn patrol, but the clearing was empty of cats. They must still be in the warrior’s den. I sat alone and started to groom out my fur, wincing a bit as my tongue scraped this night’s wounds. “Already ready to go?” I looked up to see Halfwing’s black-and-white patched fur as the she-cat walked over.
“Yeah, the sooner we get out there, the sooner we can be warm,” I mewed amiably. The small she-cat was always friendly, and after a while it had rubbed off onto all the cats she talked to. She had been kind to me as an apprentice, and was one of the first to welcome me as a warrior. I liked the small she-cat.
She smiled, one that reached past her mouth to light up her amber eyes. “Leaf-bare still wants to rule, even when green-leaf is just around the corner!” she meowed, sitting across the entrance. “It was so chilly in the warrior’s den, I almost expected there to be snow. Or at least frost.” A faint whispering came from behind a clump of rocks the elders loved to sun on. Halfwing’s ears turned towards the noise and I leaned forward.
“I dare you to climb all the way up!” a faint voice squeaked.
“But mother said—“
“Mother’s not here. I think you’re just chicken.”
“Am not!” The response sounded indignant.
I looked over at Halfwing. “Kits shouldn’t be climbing the rock; it’s not safe.” She nodded and stood, turning towards the whispers. I quickly followed suit, rounding the corner of the rock. “Cricketkit! Tallowkit! You know better than to climb the rock. It’s forbidden to kits for a reason; it’s dangerous,” I scolded as Halfwing came up beside me.
“I told you you were too loud,” the black she-kit pouted, poking her sister with a paw.
Halfwing frowned. “Both of you, go back to the nursery and don’t try this again. Otherwise I can always have a friendly chat with Scorchstar asking to postpone your apprenticeships.” The kits’ eyes widened and both backed away from the rock.
“It’s okay, I wasn’t going to let her actually do it!” Cricketkit mewed.
Tallowkit followed, “yeah, we were just joking.” Both kits darted off into the nursery, ducking inside the thick brambles. Halfwing smiled and shook her head, going back to the entrance where a sleepy-eyed Honeywhisker was waiting, the dark gray of Gorsefox beside her.
“Were we like that? Foxcloud, Honeywhisker and I?” I asked the older she-cat. She would have been an apprentice while we were kits.
Halfwing laughed, her eyes bright. “All the time. All the time.”
“Whenever you two are done,” Gorsefox mewed, the tom’s voice accusing and slightly bored.
I rolled my eyes. “Settle your fur. And for the record, we were ready before you were even awake.” Gorsefox glared at me and I smiled innocently back, satisfaction settling in my stomach.
Surprisingly, Honeywhisker frowned at me and flicked her tail over Gorsefox’s shoulders as if shielding him from me. “Let’s go.” Gorsefox allowed his eyes a heartbeat longer of glaring before turning and trotting out of camp.
“I wonder what got his tail in a knot,” I whispered to Halfwing, padding out of camp shoulder to shoulder. She turned to face me.
“Well, you did kind of snap at him.”
I shrugged. “It was true.” Halfwing let a frown touch her muzzle before returning to an impassive look. Ahead, Gorsefox and Honeywhisker padded side by side, talking as they walked. They turned, heading down a trail to the creek that bordered WindClan. WindClan, I thought, eager to reach the border. I loved WindClan border patrol; I was watching, waiting for one of their warriors to accidentally cross the border, just enough so I was allowed to slip my claws into their throats… I smiled, giddiness flooding my senses.
Today might be the day.
I heard a hiss and a yowl in front of me and raced forward, my paws jumping on the chance to shred some WindClan flesh.
“ThunderClan! Attack!” Gorsefox yowled from up ahead. I pushed faster, ready to jump into battle, raw energy coursing down my fur. I bared my fangs and yowled, jumping into the fray.
Today was the day.
C H A P T E R 1 0
Today was the day.
My target was a grey-and-white she-cat. She had been there during Raintalon's murder; she was going to be the first to pay. I lunged at her, my face the picture of revenge. Her eyes widened, but she sidestepped my tackle albeit a little clumsily due to the undergrowth. As soon as my paws touched the ground I whirled to face her, claws extended and fangs bared. The only thoughts running through my mind were those of my claws in her fur, her blood running on the ground.
I was obsessed with the revenge, addicted.
I kind of liked it.
I grinned, all fangs. She was within my grasp, and I was allowed to kill her. Because she crossed the border. Because of the prey at her paws. Because of her being here. Because she made a mistake. And I didn't. I widened my focus like Hawkfrost taught, taking in every detail about her. I noticed the way she crouched, her left paw slightly behind her right, making her shoulder slope a little lower... I lunged.
Just like in training that night (morning?), I darted forward. Her paw sliced at my head, trying to stop my approach, but I anticipated the move and like before, ducked while also initiating my own attack: a claw swipe to her leg. Her left leg, the one she favored. I leaped back just as quickly, watching her grunt in pain, the leg shivering under her weight as blood gushed out.
But she didn't fall. No, she grimaced, but straightened. Her stance was wider to keep her balance on the injured leg, but she didn't retreat. Not yet. And even if she had tried, I wouldn't have let her; she didn't give Raintalon that choice, so I wouldn't give it to her.
I stood a couple paces away, my chest low to the ground. My tortoiseshell-patched tail lashed and a growl rumbled in my chest. I tried taunting her. This time, I wanted her to attack first. I knew she would be at a disadvantage, having to traverse the brambles she was oh-so-incompetent around with an already-weak and now injured leg. She wouldn't have any balance. Not a mousetail's worth.
Likewise, it would be silly to attack first. The she-cat would have the advantage of bracing herself, and seeing what I would do to retaliate. No, she would have to come to me. All this information poured into my brain in the span of a couple heartbeats; analysing battle strategy with Hawkfrost had honed my receptiveness to the point now where it was second-nature to me. I had trained to use it against WindClan, and now it really was happening.
I waited another couple heartbeats, the battle raging around me while I stared into the she-cat's light amber eyes. She didn't move. "So you come in here, steal our prey and don't have the heart to fight for it," I teased, a snarl playing on my face. "WindClan was always full of cow--" A hiss cut me off followed quickly by a searing pain in my hindquarters. The she-cat took that moment to leap at me, bowling me over in the mud.
I yowled in pain and surprise, using my back legs to claw at her stomach as we rolled, a mass of claws and fur and blood. Whoever had clawed at me before was gone, swallowed in the writhing jumble of fighting cats. Rage built inside me and I bucked, heaving my shoulders off the ground, hoping to force her weaker foreleg to give.
I slammed back up against the ground, the she-cat's claws still curled inside my shoulders. She looked at me as if daring me to surrender then and there. But I couldn't. I had to kill her. My thoughts whirled as I sized up my sticky predicament. I couldn't push her off; there was nothing for me to push against. I couldn't submit or even fake it; she'd know what I was doing.
Instead, I did something that surprised even me: I screamed.
As primitive as it was, the trick worked. I had managed to surprise her, letting her paws loosen just the little bit I needed to wriggle free. Finally having the upper hand of the fight again, I leaped, hoping she was still a little disoriented, or at least not prepared for me to attack so soon. I encountered little resistance as I crashed into her chest, my weight and size allowing me to pummel her down.
My eyes gleamed as I stood atop her, my mass smothering any chance of escape. "This is for Raintalon!" I hissed softly before sinking my fangs into her throat. She tried to speak, but only gurgled as liquid seeped into her windpipe, effectively drowning her in her own blood. I spit what blood I had in my mouth onto the ground before leaving her to dive back into the battle.
Honeywhisker had already sent one fleeing, and Halfwind swiftly dispatched another back to the moor. The remaining cats, finding themselves now outnumbered on enemy territory, quickly followed suit and turned tail. I grinned at the winning ThunderClan patrol; we had beaten the WindClan scum.
I turned to the body of the she-cat, satisfaction rolling in my stomach. You paid for what you did in Raintalon's murder, but you weren't the only cat on that patrol, I thought, looking out to where I knew WindClan's territory lay. And you all messed with the wrong she-cat.
C H A P T E R 1 1
I helped carry the she-cat's body to the WindClan border. The bleeding from her neck had just about stopped, only a thin drizzle escaping from her mouth to splatter against the leaves, leaving a path of iridescent red. Beside me was Gorsefox, carrying the other half of the she-cat's weight over his shoulders.
Even though I couldn't see him, I could tell a frown curled against his muzzle; the same frown he wore when he found one of the cats dead. 'ThunderClan cats don't need to kill in order to win a battle.' I heard his disapproving voice echo in my head.
'She was about to kill me. I couldn't get her off no matter how hard I scratched or bit. When she came down to rip my throat... I lunged. I was about to die myself.' I had responded. I could tell he was still unsettled about my answer, but it would have to do since I sure wasn't going to give him the StarClan forsaken truth. This was personal, my revenge on WindClan. No one else had to know.
Not now.
Not ever.
And especially not him.
We left her on the WindClan side of the riverbank, curling her body underneath a bramble thicket to protect it from predators. As soon as the battered patrol returned one tan she-cat short, we knew they would send another back for her body.
I shook out my drenched fur as I slipped out of the water, slick as a minnow. The creek was shallow enough to wade through, but it was still as irritating as the Dark Forest getting wet having to do it.'
We - Gorsefox and I - contemplated leaving the fallen warrior on ThunderClan's bank, but thought it would be offensive to leave her on our side. They might take that as a move to take over their warriors, as a sign we own them. Instead, we decided it was a lesser of the two evils to trespass onto WindClan land, even through the wetting, to return her to her Clan.
The walk back to camp was silent. I followed behind Gorsefox, leaving him to mow his way through the overgrown, green-leaf foliage. Even on this well-trodden track, ferns and bramble and briars seemed to go out of their way to hinder any cats, and it was the same for us.
As it was, the Clan was still buzzing with chatter and rumor after the battle when we ducked through the thorn tunnel. Cats that fought alongside me in the battle were surrounded by clusters of cats, each trying to watch in as the battle patrol acted out the skirmish. The entire hollow was bustling with activity, more than we had seen in a few moons. After all, the Clans were, for the most part, peaceful now.
"Did you really kill a cat?" Cricketkit chirped, appearing right below my paws. I stumbled backwards, taking care to not squish the tiny black she-cat. With her size and my size, I knew that was very possible.
I blinked, words racing through my head as I tried to make sense of what to say. Cricketkit's eyes were wide, almost in awe, but with flickers of fear tainting the clear blue hues. I didn't know what I should say. I sure couldn't tell the innocent kit yes, Orchidnose would line her nest with my fur for encouraging that on her kits, for I knew that was what Cricketkit would take it as. Yet she would find out somehow, and I could not straight out lie.
The worst part is that her question raised a great deal more in my head. The ones asking not for a yes or no, but how far. How far was I going to take this? Killing the ones involved? Their families? Their kits? Anger curdled inside me, a rumbling that I could've sworn Cricketkit could hear from below. They had killed Raintalon in cold blood, for nothing more than to show dominance. I was -
"Mossclaw!"
I flinched, the fur on my shoulders rising. Cricketkit frowned and gave a disappointed look before stepping away and rushing off. It took me long enough to recognize the yowl, and to see Scorchstar on the highledge. Even from afar I could tell he was on edge, his eyes hard chips of amber and his tail swishing side to side. I leaped up, worming my way through the cats - a difficult task due to my wide shoulders and the packed hollow - and scurried up the eight stones to the ledge and the cave beyond.
I shook off my fur as I entered, smoothing it down and ridding myself of the itch that came when others' fur was bristled into mine when I had squirmed through the warriors to get here. "Scorchstar," I meowed, looking to the large ginger tom. It did not escape me that I could see him in the eye, something most cats couldn't brag of. He was a fearsome sight, the massive tomcat.
Scorchstar padded deeper into the cave, sitting beside Birchcloud, the deputy, who was also present. I padded over and sat in front of the two, my back towards the entrance. "Tell us what happened. In the battle," Birchcloud said, her voice light and musical despite the darkness of the discussion.
I recounted the events of the afternoon, speaking the story as I told it to Gorsefox. The she-cat was unstoppable, I bit into whatever I could, the killing was an accident. I added on the part where we took her body back to WindClan, mentioning our choice to leave her on the WindClan side of the creek. "A good choice" Scorchstar had added when I first started on that part.
It didn't take long before I had told everything I could, answering the occasional question from either superior. "And that's how it was," I finished. Scorchstar had his head tipped, as if thinking over my retelling. Birchcloud gave me the faintest of smiles and a brief nod. I kept my mouth closed, knowing it was not my place to break the silence, nor was it cue to leave.
Finally, after my bones were starting to protest from sitting straight, Scorchstar met my eyes. "You are a brave cat, Mossclaw. Many others may have been injured if not for your actions." I gave a slight dip of my head, acknowledging his words. "Yet your actions will still have repercussions, if not from me and ThunderClan, then surely from WindClan, and the others once they hear. The Clans of the lake have been peaceful for generations, and no cat had been killed in moons. Simply for breaking this peace, you will be a target, and through you, ThunderClan, and even further, me. You do understand this?"
"I do," I said softly, my voice light.
Scorchstar dipped his head. "Even by accident, this is a serious matter. However, your actions were well within justification. Even in the warrior code, a warrior can kill to defend one's life or the life of a Clanmate.
"Gorsefox affirmed this, that you were in the right, and I trust his word and yours. ThunderClan is in debt of your courage, even if others may not see it as such. You did well." Scorchstar turned to Birchcloud, flicking his tail in my direction. The dismissal was obvious, and I left without another word, slipping down the rocks and into the hollow.
The surprise took longer than I thought to wear down. Gorsefox, backing up my word? The older warrior never had given me a kind thought that I could remember, and I had accepted that. I still didn't believe that Gorsefox would put in a good word for me, especially because it meant going out of his way to do so. The whole situation seemed odd. As I pushed my way past the ivy covering the medicine cat den, ready to have my scratches treated so I could move on with the day, I started questioning what exactly put one of the cats I most disliked onto my side.
C H A P T E R 1 2
Honeywhisker was expecting kits.
And -- of course, why would life miss the opportunity to make me miserable? -- they were Gorsefox’s.
I narrowed my eyes, watching the new couple as they pranced around ThunderClan’s hollow. I watched the other cats praise them, wishing them luck. I watched. And watched. And waited.
I was good at waiting. I could sit for as long as needed and eventually I would get my way. Patience is a virtue, as they say.
“Mossclaw, hunting!” I sighed, but stood, wordlessly following Heronfoot out of camp along with Thrushtail, his mother Rosebreeze, and her new apprentice Acornpaw.
The first thing I noticed exiting the thorn tunnel was how much better mannered Acornpaw was from his sisters. The dusty tan tom stood tall, excitement making his tail quiver but no more. He didn’t ask the obnoxious questions of a cat first out of camp, nor did he begin running about to explore every inch of the territory. The only word that came to mind to describe him was disciplined.
I admired him for that, flashing back to my first time out in the forest and how excited I had been. Raintalon had answered all my questions, however idiotic they were, and laughed as I ran around like a bee-brain. Fury came to me in a rush as the memories continued to the WindClan border and beyond.
I almost missed it Heronfoot stopped, just barely managing to catch myself from running into his rear as the patrol came to a halt. Embarrassed, I shifted to his side, watching as the other three gathered around; Thrushtail to Heronfoot’s left, with Acornpaw standing between him and Rosebreeze. “There hasn’t been a hunting patrol near the lake in a while now,” Heronfoot commented.
“Especially near the Ancient Oak,” Thrushtail added, “that would be a fine place for Acornpaw to make his first catch.” I had turned to him as he spoke, and now the tom had turned to look at me as well, his blue eyes catching mine. He smiled, and I gave a slight smile back before turning away, my ears burning in embarrassment.
It was hard, relationship wise, to only have two litters in the apprentice’s den the entirety of one’s apprenticeship, with only one tom your age that isn’t your brother to reasonably have a crush on. That being said, Honeywhisker and I had taken turns crushing on Thrushtail, and he with both of us.
Though Honeywhisker had never really done anything to try for Thrushtail, while he usually sought me out over her. We were together for a while before both of us finally moved on, and I didn’t have time for a relationship now. . . not with my destiny.
But that didn’t mean I never entertained the idea, or wished it could have been.
He was handsome, very attractive, and, as a bonus, still single.
“Mossclaw?” I blinked, hurriedly taking my gaze off Thrushtail when I realized I had began to stare. The rest of the patrol was a couple steps into the bushes, leaving the two of us still in the clearing. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed distracted lately.”
I heard the clear tones of worry in his voice, but I kept my eyes on the patrol as they drew farther away. “You can tell me, Mossclaw. You don’t have to hide away from everyone. You don’t have to hide from me.” My fur prickled as I felt his warm breath, and my breath shuddered when I turned to face him, not able to keep turned without being rude.
Yet I still couldn’t bring myself to look in his eyes. Instead I focused on a dark brown tabby swirl on his shoulder, letting that one stripe have all my attention. “I know what we had as apprentices is over, but I like you, Mossclaw. I’m still here for you.” My paws tingled as he spoke, my breath catching in my chest.
For once, I didn’t know what to do.
My heart screamed that I should push myself into Thrushtail’s fur and forget everything, yet… I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel the power rushing through my paws, I wanted to be part of the prophecy, I wanted to avenge Raintalon.
I opened my mouth, wishing to speak of all the thoughts in my head, of why we could never be. I wanted to explain everything, and tell him that I couldn’t be with him however much I dreamed I could.
“Okay.” My voice was a whisper, hardly a breeze. I turned my head away, feeling pressure in my chest so hard I thought I would burst. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t reject him. And I couldn’t be with him either.
But I didn’t agree to anything, I struggled to rationalize. He had just said he was there for me if I needed him, he didn’t ask for us to get back together or anything… we’re just friends.
I couldn’t be with him.
He didn’t deserve a murderer.
And I knew I was just getting started.
C H A P T E R 1 4
“You know, he doesn’t have to be so snobby about it,” Halfwing whispered, leaning over to speak the words in my ear as we watched Gorsefox talking to some elder warriors. Even from here, we could hear him bragging about my sister and the kits.
It had been a moon since the two first announced they were expecting (well, just Honeywhisker would be delivering them, but with Gorsefox acting the way he was it was appropriate to speak as though half of them were kicking in his stomach as well), and the grey tom hadn’t yet laid off of the arrogant bragging of them.
What really threw me off was the complete personality switch he undertook since that day. Throughout my life, Gorsefox had always been cold and quiet, sticking to the background with only snide remarks keeping me from believing he was a bush. Now he seemed outgoing, even excited instead of being gruff.
I mean I knew she-cats went through personality swings while kitting, but I never would have thought that would apply to the tom in the arrangement.
I felt a tail flick my shoulders and then point back to Gorsefox. “I mean, look at him, all that energy could be used hunting, then maybe we wouldn’t have to do so much work.”
I gave a small huff of laughter. “We all wish.”
A small smile peeked on Halfwing’s muzzle as she purred. “Well, if wishes were fishes, we’d all be RiverClan!”
“Tell me about it,” I agreed. “But then if the silly tom did as we wished, there’d be no use for all those fish. There’d be so many squirrels on the fresh-kill pile.”
“True that.” The grey and white patched she-cat closed her eyes, yawning and then shaking out her fur as she stood. I lazily followed, stretching my shoulders. It had felt good sitting back in the sun with nothing better to do than gossip, but there was always something to do for the Clan.
Birchcloud had told us we could take the day off -- we had the sunset patrol later, and had already been on the dawn patrol to WindClan border -- I knew my paws would soon grow restless. I was never a cat to enjoy sitting doing nothing, and time training during the night only sharpened my jitteriness.
And so Halfwing and I agreed to a little contest that day.
It was a benign contest, just something fun to pass the time doing something active.
A race.
We had decided upon the route earlier that day, making sure to balance things out for each of our strengths and weaknesses. For example, the entire course wasn’t all to do with running. There was also some sections where. . . well, that comes later.
I followed the older warrior to the thorn tunnel, where the briars caught in my fur as I pushed my shoulders through. I growled playfully when Halfwing turned back to me, the lithe cat having no trouble with the thorns.
“--are you up to going into the forest now?” I heard a voice as I pushed through the last segment of the tunnel into the forest proper. The camp guard was a senior warrior, a black and grey spotted tom called Spiderfall. Halfwing was with him, standing a couple tail-lengths along the trail to provide space for me to exit.
She smiled, and I could see her flexing her toes as if she already wished to be off. “A race. Me ‘n Mossclaw have both border patrols today, so Birchcloud said we could have the day off from hunting or the noontide patrol. We didn’t want to rot away in camp, so Mossclaw suggested we do a little race to warm our paws.”
I turned to see Spiderfall smiling, the curl growing wider as Halfwing continued. “Well, you lucky gals. Wish I could be out there runnin’ too. Tell me who wins!”
And with a short chorus of ‘we will’s’ we were both off into the trees, heading towards the training hollow that was our starting line.
I was relieved that no apprentices were there as we pushed through the bushes into the sand covered clearing. Already my mind was blank of most things bar the race and excitement towards it as well as the route and what I would do to ensure my victory.
“Ready?” I said, leaving little time since we stepped foot into the clearing to when I wished to start.
Halfwing gave a small mrow of laughter, lowering her body to the ground. “Are you ready?” I took that as a yes, and prepared my own paws. It wasn’t but heartbeats later that Halfwing called to begin and we were off.
My mind was a blur throughout the entire race, both with the excitement and the bone-numbing exertion of it, that I could hardly recall the exact events of the time. I tried to put as much as I remembered here in this retelling, and I believe I had gotten the meaning of it if not in the descriptive glory that usually accompanies such stories.
I strove to control my breathing as I ran, taking deep, measured breaths in and out as my legs moved. I watched as Halfwing began to gain on me, now in front instead of beside me. But I didn’t mind. That was all part of the plan. Blood roared in my ears, pulsing to the beat of my paws. The surroundings were green, just green, the only color I cared about being the white of Halfwing in front of me.
I increased my pace a hair, nothing enough to gain lost pawsteps, but enough so that the nimble she-cat couldn’t escape my sight before we reached our first stop.
The ancient oak.
The tree was upon me faster than I thought it would be, but I hardly paused in the transition from ground to bark. Halfwing was above me, but with a couple strong pushes of my paws I could see her tail growing closer and closer. I pushed harder, striving to close off even more distance while I still could.
My ears rung with the triumphant yowl, yet I didn’t look up from my paws as I squirreled up the tree. I could only imagine Halfwing’s triumphant look as she touched paw against the branch we had marked earlier that day and begun the descent.
Though I was hot on her tail. The downward climb was infuriating, as we were both smart enough not to risk injury by rushing and carelessness. So we climbed, and while I tried to go as speedily as I could, I couldn’t close the gap any further.
When on the ground, I worked my legs harder than the first running stretch. I wasn’t trying to conserve energy any more, as in doing so I would have to give even more ground, distance I wasn’t sure I could make up.
I went all out at that point, and through my paws and lungs screamed, I kept relentlessly on my pace. I was surprised when I noticed Halfwing had slowed, and that we were almost level as we began to leap into the lake.
All of ThunderClan knew how to swim. We lived near a lake for StarClan’s sake, we couldn’t afford to lose warriors just because they fell in and drowned. So all apprentices learned the basics of swimming, and all the cats -- well, warriors -- had to be able to pull their own weight if everything flooded.
The third leg of the race was to swim.
From the sand where we had started, we had decided to go a certain distance, to where the land pointed out a bit with a large maple hanging over the water. The only rule was we had to swim. Touching the ground meant we lost.
The water weighed down my fur as I made it deep enough to begin paddling. I kept my muzzle well above the water, churning my paws in careful strokes. My eyes narrowed against the spray, but I was determined to win. I kept my eyes on the point, the rest blurring out of focus. And then I swam. I swam as though death itself were about to pounce on my tail.
With a soaking heave I pulled myself out of the froth and onto land. I turned back to the water, only taking the time to process Halfwing’s form standing belly-deep in the water, slogging towards me before I collapsed, breathing hard but with a grin on my face.
Few words were said while we both recovered from the race. But slowly I became more aware of my surroundings and had more energy for conversation. “You almost had me there, in the second stretch.”
“Yeah. I went so hard on the first part that by the time the second rolled around I was struggling to get my paws in order. You were amazing in the swimming; almost thought you were a fish! Or a RiverClan cat, but they are the same thing in the end minus the scales.”
“I had to work hard to get past you too.”
Pride in winning still rushed through me, though the combined force of weariness and the drowsy feel of being in the sunlight both came to overpower me and we both came to doze in and out of thoughts on the lakeside where we had collapsed.
It was midway between sun-high and sunset when we got to our paws and started home. We walked back slowly, chattering like sparrows about things with little meaning other than to share the moment of companionship between us. I enjoyed the time, having nothing of meaning to do, no responsibilities to uphold. It was a great break from the hard work of Clan life.
The thorn barrier seemed wider as I came through it from the other end, and I hardly got caught up in it at all. My stomach rumbled as the ground below me turned from soft moss to stone, and I was just preparing myself for a juicy vole when I noticed the silence in the camp.
A few seconds later, the rest of the details filled in: cats crowded in the center of the clearing, the harsh reek of ShadowClan, and above all a voice that had just begun to speak.
“ShadowClan is -- well ShadowClan -- RiverClan is attacking us!”
C H A P T E R 1 5
“ThunderClan!” I heard Scorchstar’s yowl above the clamor, and the wild discussions that broke out over the small black cat’s announcement were immediately silenced. A quiet broke over the camp, and I felt myself shifting my weight paw to paw. Somehow, the silence seemed even more panicked than before, like at any moment something would happen and everything would just….
shatter.
“We’ll send out a battle patrol. Shadefrost,” Scorchstar announced, stepping forward. “Ebonyfang, Jaggedflight, Nightflame, Swallowsun, Thrushtail, Sageflower, Tallowpaw and… Mossclaw come with me and Birchcloud. Dustwind, you’re in charge until we return. Everyone else be watchful, we don’t know what is happening. Defend the camp if attacked, and no cat is allowed out of camp until we return. Acornpaw,” the small apprentice jumped then, his fur on end, “you are the Clan runner. If camp is attacked, run. Come straight to ShadowClan and find me, you understand?” The tom nodded and I found myself doing so in agreement. Scorchstar was smart, out of the older ‘paws, Acornpaw would be the most levelheaded and be able to make choices under pressure.
Then the silence broke and organization begun. The battle patrol arranged itself in the main clearing while the other cats set to work putting together an arrangement for who was responsible for whom and who would watch what. I felt fur on my side and looked over to see Halfwing, her fur still damp from our outing.
“It’s not that bad, honestly. Better than having to wait here,” I responded when she tried to apologise for the bad timing of the race and my immediate predicament. I smiled. “Rest up, we might need you.”
“You’d better tell me everything that happens,” she replied.
“Every second of it.”
“Let’s move out!”
“Be safe,” Halfwing said before bounding away to Dustwind and her orders.
As I turned to follow the patrol, I noticed a glint in the corner of my vision. I stared in Gorsefox’s direction, flicking an ear to show I had noticed him watching me so intently. His only response was to narrow his eyes before turning into the nursery, his tail disappearing into the brambles with a flick. I left camp even more puzzled to how the grey tom fit into my life.
I shook the thoughts off.
I hated things that weren’t constant.
And then the patrol was in the trees, the small black tom racing ahead with Scorchstar hard on his paws. The remainder of the ThunderClan patrol followed a bit further behind, each cat finding their own path through the trees.
We had just passed the abandoned twoleg nest when I saw a dark grey pelt slow to come up beside me. “Spiderfall?”
“You still haven’t told me the results,” he mewed, matching his stride to mine.
“It was close. Halfwing is nearly a WindClan cat when it came to running, but I was able to find my inner RiverClan during the swimming and draw ahead.” I paused as I sped ahead of Spiderfall, jumping a narrow gap between two gorse brambles and over a fallen birch. “It was amazing.”
The black-and-grey speckled tom quickly caught up as the forest started to thin leading up to the ShadowClan scent line. “Congratulations then,” he commented before dashing ahead, his tail-tip flicking.
I almost thought to be annoyed that he hadn’t shown much interest, but then noticed what Spiderfall had earlier. Most the senior warriors were bunched around Birchcloud, with heads turning to confer as they ran. Probably more detailed orders they could pass on to the rest of us during the battle.
The roars of battle traveled far through the marshy pines, and we heard the fight before the patrol had traveled a mere tree-length into the ShadowClan territory. I tipped my head. We aren’t even near camp yet. We shouldn’t --
“Get them!”
The world spun as I was thrown abruptly backwards, a sleek ginger tom occupying the route I had been taking. Pain spluttered around me, but it was nothing compared to what I saw as I was jostled into the pines.
ShadowClan was a ball of fur and claws clustered around an ancient fir. Another ring surrounded them, this one of sleek water-furred RiverClan warriors.
“All of ShadowClan is here!”
“Why did Pinestar leave camp?”
“Dawnmist!”
Cries battered my skull as I sat upright, forcing my paws back to the ThunderClan group who had fallen a few pawsteps behind as a few RiverClan warriors cut from the circle to fend off this new threat.
“ThunderClan!” Scorchstar mewed, his voice tumbling out fast as a newleaf creek, “Tallowpaw, tell Dustwind that ThunderClan camp is open to ShadowClan and the medicine cats should be ready.” The apprentice was off quicker than a hare, flying back over the creek and into the forest. “Help get ShadowClan out of here. Protect the elders, kits and injured. Get every cat into the trees as quickly as possible. There we’ll have the advantage. We’re close to useless fighting out in the open. ThunderClan! With me!”
I let out a snarl as Scorchstar leapt forward, the ThunderClan patrol crashing into the RiverClan warriors closest to the trees. I chose the ginger tom as my target, flashing my claws out as I rammed my bulk into his chest, pushing us both to the dirt. I pushed my paws into his stomach.
“You really should have stayed home.”
C H A P T E R 1 6
Redfang's POV
“Charpaw brought ThunderClan!”
He cheered alongside his huddled Clanmates as the forest musk swirled into the clearing just before the ThunderClan patrol burst into sight.
A massive ginger tom leapt at the forefront, his fangs bared in a dark snarl as his claws tore into a smaller grey she-cat. Shimmerstar is finally getting what she deserves, he thought, a spark of hope in his chest.
Redfang shifted to the side, slapping out a paw with renewed vigor at another RiverClan warrior to allow the ThunderClan cats into the protective ring of ShadowClan warriors. A few cats, however, attacked ferociously at the back of the RiverClan cats, pulling them away from the pine ShadowClan was sheltered around. The black tom shivered as he watched one tortoiseshell she-cat practically slice through the RiverClan crowd as if they were dead leaves.
He hissed as the RiverClan warrior advanced yet again, and sent his claws into the she-cat’s nose before she could get close enough to the circle. “We’re going to lead ShadowClan into the forest where RiverClan can’t fight. Keep the circle, protect your own.” Redfang jumped as the voice whispered in his ear.
“Yellowbelly!”
“Pass it on,” his sister said, flicking her tail to his other shoulder. Redfang gazed out into the swarm, but the she-cat wasn’t in his face any longer. He quickly turned to the cat beside him, who happened to be Oakshade, and whispered the message his sister had told him. The dark tom nodded and turned to tell the next cat in line.
“Part the lines!” Redfang hissed and hopped to the side as ThunderClan cats wedged themselves into the small gaps, strengthening the circle with bristling claws and fangs. The she-cat beside him yowled and lunged out at the RiverClan she-cat Redfang had been clawing off, grabbing her shoulders and then violently shoving her away.
She turned, blood and fur matting her claws. “Go to the inner circle. I have this section.”
Redfang shook his head. He wasn’t badly injured yet, and still had fight in him. He snarled and smacked at a younger tom that had tried to worm his way between himself and Yellowbelly. The she-cat growled deep in her throat, but a black-and-white patched tom chose that moment to dart between them, distracting her as she they both turned to haul him out with bared claws.
Redfang tensed, pushing away the slippery RiverClan cats from the circle as he waited for the other side to clear a path for them to bolt. The tortoiseshell beside him fought with precision he had never seen in ShadowClan before, each of her blows sending a cat to shelter behind the RiverClan ranks. He felt a tremor pass through his fur, glad she wasn’t his enemy in this battle.
Even when he was ready, the call to begin the retreat came as a surprise to Redfang. He hesitated, turning his head before moving and felt claws in his side when a RiverClan cat pounced on his moment of weakness. He hissed, the pain forcing his eyes wide. Then the cat was gone, the ThunderClan she-cat rolling her away with a caterwaul that made his fur crawl.
He didn’t wait -- she was more than capable of felling one warrior herself -- and dashed after the two mingled Clans, ThunderClan warriors supporting elders and wounded as they escaped the clutches of RiverClan. He spotted Yellowbelly near the rear, casting glances over her shoulder. Redfang leapt forward and came beside her in a couple short bounds. “Thank StarClan,” she gasped between breaths.
He grunted, keeping the pace as the cats forced their way into ThunderClan territory and deeper into the undergrowth. Cackles and howls of victory echoed deep after the fleeing Clan, the scent of RiverClan washing over the ShadowClan border but going no deeper.
Redfang clenched his teeth, allowing himself that one motion of anger as he focused keeping his paws clear of brambles. RiverClan would never be able to keep both territories for long, but for now. . . He glanced around at the ShadowClan cats stumbling after their saviors, exhaustion and wounds dragging them down.
They were in no condition to fight longer now, even with ThunderClan to aid.
ShadowClan had been defeated.
C H A P T E R 1 7
I tried to remember the battle, I really did. I closed my eyes, begging forth the fights, the blood, anything. I wanted to know, I wanted to know what I did during that battle. I wanted to know the names of the cats I had fought, how many ShadowClan warriors didn’t leave the pine tree when the rest escaped. I wanted to know how much RiverClan blood spattered the pine needles, revenge for their unforgiving attack.
I wanted to remember, I really did.
But I couldn’t. Everything was a blur of claws and fangs. And pain, claws against my shoulders and my sides and the tear in my ear. It was if it were only a dream… like the Dark Forest was the only real reality.
I ground my teeth.
I wanted to know. I needed to know.
Hawkfrost was going to kill me if I couldn’t recount my first real fight.
Weak.
“Watch out, you’re sitting on my tail!”
“Sorry,” I whispered, lifting the weight off of my leg so Foxcloud could wriggle his tail out from underneath. I felt him shifting beside me, trying to keep his space from the others crowded in the den.
I buried my nose in the moss and tried to hold back a hiss of frustration. Apart from my thoughts, the warrior’s den was now occupied by the majority of ThunderClan. Scorchstar and Birchcloud, who usually resided up on the highledge, had moved in, as well as both apprentices and Honeywhisker. Pinestar and Ferretmask were also thrown into the mix, the ShadowClan leader and deputy having no room to bed themselves.
I heard grunts from the apprentices den, ShadowClan warriors cramming themselves into the space meant to occupy much smaller cats. I knew the elder’s den would be filled with some of the lesser injured, but cats that needed to be visited during the night. I could hear the squeaks from the nursery, the moans of the cats all the way inside the medicine cave, the off and on pattering of paws that was Cricketpaw and Leopardpaw going on errands throughout the night.
Everywhere was noisy, humid, chilled with new-leaf frost, and full of fur. A paw prodded me in the side, and I shot up, unable to keep still a second longer. I tried to keep my paws out of the others’ pelts as I squirmed my way outside.
The midnight air hit me with the force of a gale-driven wave off the lake. The lake. . . I kept my paws moving, past the rumbles of the crowded camp, past the rumbles of my thoughts.
I needed out, out, out.
The thorns snagged at my fur, waving with shadows in the wind, whispering, whispering lies, holding me back. With a silent roar I forced my way out of camp and into the forest. I ignored the protesting calls of the guards, throwing myself farther and farther away from the chaos in my desperation to escape.
Branches whipped at my sides. Brown, crackling ferns threw dew on my back, frosting it slick in the icy wind.
But it was as though I was running through time, a funnel, going on and on and on with no end. . .
And then the shock of water tumbling around my paws shoved me back into reality. My jaw was bouncing in my mouth, my legs shuddering where I stood, chest fluttering with short gasps of breath.
I shivered.
The lake was still save for the minute ripples echoing from my paws. Standing there in the cold I had a certain clarity of thought. The world was large and I was small. The lake was an abyss, so deep, bottomless.
I closed my eyes.
The darkness was welcoming, calling me forward. A few more steps, a few more minutes. . .
And then I clamped my jaw shut, trying to contain the chattering. With all the effort of moving a mountain I turned in the water to bring myself to shore.
Two golden eyes flashed on the bank. I froze, even more glacier-like than before. My legs started to quake again.
No. No.
I pulled in the scraps of willpower from the corners of my mind, forcing my paws to take me one step closer.
And then another.
“Mossclaw.”
I will not break.
I am strong.
“Thrushtail,” I said stiffly. The tom’s eyes flashed with hurt, but he set his jaw, bringing himself taller. He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, but no sound arrived. He tried again. Paused.
Moments passed under the pale moon. A lone breeze swirled across the beach with a whisper, and I couldn’t help but flinch as it tickled my dripping paws. The forest sighed.
I don’t remember either of us moving, but suddenly we were together, my head hanging over his shoulder, his tongue warming my paws. Slowly, heat crept back into my fur, chasing out the tendrils of darkness.
I felt the prickle of eyes on my back, and cast a wary gaze over Thrushtail’s shoulder. A wavering form fluttered on the surface of the lake, only small ripples cast out where his paws brushed the silver water. Destiny, he mouthed, eyes narrowed. I hastily turned my gaze. “What is it?” Thrushtail whispered. The warmth of his voice made my ears twitch.
“Just the stars,” I lied.
He turned, following my gaze over the flat lake, the stars reflecting and glowing on its mirror surface. “They’re beautiful.” I couldn’t bring myself to look again or comment.
“Come,” he said. I followed, and time ceased to exist.
-- - - - - - - -
“Let’s get back to camp.” I nodded and stood wordlessly, following Thrushtail off the beach and back into the brush.
I couldn’t help but give one last glance over my shoulder at the lake. Hawkfrost’s eyes were chips of ice, ever piercing even when his shadow body had begun to fade in the dawn. He narrowed his eyes, challenging me, threatening me.
I bit my lip and turned my back, stepping forward to where Thrushtail was waiting, head cocked, pushing my fur into his as we walked back.
I hoped he didn’t notice the three burning trails seared into my other side, drips of blood following us like shadows as we left the beach far, far behind.
C H A P T E R 1 8
I didn’t wake in increments like I usually did. Instead, I opened my eyes and the bramble wall of the den appeared in crystal-like clarity. Cats were beginning to stir, but after a quick glance around I knew it was only the earliest wakers and those that needed to be out before dawn on patrol.
I slipped out of the den into the pale grey morning, the slim time when neither the moon nor the sun ruled the sky and only the brightest of stars are left to watch over the world below. For a moment, I wondered whether one of those stars was my mother. But before I could determine a star to ask, the red of sunrise began to bleed over the inky night and the glow of those few stars were consumed in mere entourage that heralded the sun.
A squeak came from the other side of camp, and out with the sun tumbled a few kits I didn’t know. A black-and-white patched she-cat followed, moss clamped between her teeth. Her gait was slowed by a heavy limp, the tap tap of pawsteps interrupted with a sharp scrape as she dragged a dead front paw through the sand.
“I saw you fight yesterday.” I almost jumped out of my fur at the soft voice behind me. I turned and watched a small tan she-cat pad silently closer. “You helped save us, even though you didn’t know us at all. That’s brave.”
I fumbled for a response, but nothing came. Nothing smart or snarky or arrogant. Nothing humble or kind. Nothing. “She’s been this way since she was young, you know,” the tan she-cat went on. She wasn’t looking at me, but watched the black-and-white cat with the twisted paw. “She was never going to be a warrior. She knew that. But she’s still part of ShadowClan. Still useful. Cats can talk to her, and she will listen. Queens can go out safely, knowing she won’t let their kits come to harm. She can keep messages safe for those whose duties keep them from saying good morning to their loved ones. Pinestar trusts her to keep secrets if she needs to send word. She’s useful, needed. We all thought she wasn’t going to make it. That not being able to be a warrior would kill her heart. We were wrong. She’s the strongest one of us all.”
She turned her gaze to me, and a fuzziness was set over my mind. Like this wasn’t really real, and I’d blink and this she-cat would be gone. Just my imagination. The she-cat’s voice dropped lower, pain just barely concealed by her blunt report. “Appleberry died, you know. Our medicine cat. RiverClan killed her first. They would have gotten to Leopardpaw too if Twistedtalon didn’t come in with a cough. He saw two of the RiverClan warriors standing over Appleberry, Leopardpaw in the corner trying to fend them off.”
I turned to look at the little she-cat, but her eyes were distant, focused on something far off. “He scared them off and raised the alarm. And now Leopardpaw is only seven moons and our Clan is left without a medicine cat to heal or guide us.” Time seemed to hang in the balance before the bass thrum of my heart sent it spinning again. “I’m Acornbee, by the way.”
“Mossclaw,” I managed, the surrealness of the conversation leaving me shaken unlike even a battle could.
The little tan she-cat nodded. “Then thank you, Mossclaw, for saving my Clan.”
Acornbee left me in silence -- a trait that I guessed all ShadowClan cats innately had -- slipping away with only the faintest scratch of paws and a slight breeze as she whispered -- that seemed the only word for it; whispered -- away. All that had been sitting still now roiled inside me.
RiverClan killed their medicine cat?
The pieces started to fall into place: that’s why only Cricketpaw and Leopardpaw were running between the dens the night before. I had noted the petite, golden spotted she-cat as a medicine cat apprentice as she scampered beside Cricketpaw, shadowing the older apprentice around the unfamiliar camp. But I had assumed Appleberry had been in with Featherheart treating the more serious cases.
It also explained why ShadowClan was so desperate for help. Leopardpaw couldn’t have been more than seven moons, barely into her training. Without a medicine cat to heal their injured and read signs for the Clan. . . they hardly had a choice in begging for aid.
And what a low blow indeed, the intentional murder of a medicine cat. Which led into the main mystery still left unsolved: why?
“I heard Shimmerstar thought Pinestar was meeting up with Reedblaze!” The squeak came from behind the warrior’s den, and I quickly pushed my way there, a snarl on my face.
The small space was cramped, but I managed to shove most of my shoulders between the ferns and the stone wall, getting a good glare at the cats inside. “You should know better than to gossip behind others’ backs,” I hissed from between my teeth, “any cat could hear you from in here! What if I were Ferretmask? Pinestar?”
“We shouldn’t harbor strangers when we don’t even know what they did!” Ebonyfang argued. The younger warrior glanced over his shoulder, and the other faces behind nodded to his words: Iceshade, Nightflame. Behind them, Acornpaw sat with his head down, as if trying to hide from my scolding. Tallowpaw pressed up beside him. Both looked small in this cramped clearing.
I pulled myself out of the opening, shooing the younger warriors out. They complied with little resistance, though the three kept to muttering with each other, casting me foul looks as they found their way to the other side of camp. I rolled my eyes, but at least in open sight, I hoped they wouldn’t be stupid enough to speak so rudely.
Except they do have a point, I reasoned, biting my lip and turning away from their conspiracies.
By the time I had gotten myself situated as far as I could from the trio, barn swallow in my claws, the ShadowClan cats began to peek out from where they had slept. A few strolled right into the midst of the ThunderClan morning bumble, and I noted that the deputy, Ferretmask, lead these actions alongside a few others I knew to be senior warriors from gatherings.
Yet despite his confident small talk with the others, after watching him for a while I could pick out his nervous ticks: the way his eyes flicked around during pauses, how his tail wandered patterns in the air. I didn’t blame him one bit. Letting down your guard in another’s camp, even if that other did just save you from death, was the quickest way to get stabbed in the back.
Following the deputy came the others, slowly picking their way as if the sandy clearing was covered with stones or thorns. The stares they were receiving were just as sharp. But hopefully less likely to draw blood, I thought.
Through all this, I saw a familiar glint of green eyes followed by a flash of golden fur. I waited for Honeywhisker to come to me, laughing inwardly when she took the longest route in order to avoid the ShadowClan cats now lumped in the center of the clearing like a hedgehog rolled into a ball to protect its soft inside.
Honeywhisker glared at them for a good few heartbeats before settling down beside me with a huff. I watched her progression with surprise. It wasn’t as if we were on bad terms, my sister and I, but we haven’t seen eye-to-eye since, well, ever. And after she had gotten together with Gorsefox, we had only become that much more distant. Even more than me and my feather-headed brother. So it was odd that she chose to come to me in this time.
Though she didn’t keep her reasons quiet for long.
She was never good at that, especially when there was something to complain about.
“There’s three of their queens in the nursery. Three! Bringing their foul stench to taint the nursery my kits will soon have to live in. What will happen when the first thing they smell is that? The first kits they play with being ShadowClan scum?” Her voice was low, breaking the harsher syllables into a growl with a hiss just barely held in check.
I tried to keep from rolling my eyes, I really tried. “Look, Honey--”
“We’d like to call all cats into the clearing for a meeting!” Scorchstar’s deep yowl broke up all conversation before setting the whole hollow to a simmer. Cats gathered tentitively below, ShadowClan and ThunderClan grouping together, repelling each other like oil and water.
I looked up to the Highledge, not surprised to see the dark pelt of Pinestar melting into the shadows alongside the bulkier ThunderClan leader, only Scorchstar’s paws shining bright against the dark stone. His fiery paws and fiery eyes, embers against the night. Like fire. I shuddered, but didn’t know why, as the breeze was warm.
“Why didn’t he use the traditional call?”
I shrugged, not needing to look to recognize Thrushtail’s voice as he came up on my other side, leaving Honeywhisker to be, grumbling on her own. She should have known she wouldn’t get my sympathies. “He probably wanted to make sure he included the ShadowClan cats too. It wouldn’t do for him to open his camp to them, yet speak about them as if they didn’t exist. No reason to anger them for such a petty thing as superiority.”
As if needing to call for aid didn’t already hurt their pride enough.
“Cats of ThunderClan.” I turned back to the highledge at Pinestar’s shrill voice. Much different from Scorchstar’s deep rumble. “ShadowClan thanks you for your aid, opening your camp and offering your claws to save cats that are not your blood.” I dipped my head, knowing how much it cost in face to say such things.
Pinestar looked about to speak again, but backed a bit away so Scorchstar could take her spot at the front of the stone. “ThunderClan’s camp will be open to you so long as you need shelter. Cats of ThunderClan! ShadowClan may not be our blood, but they are still our kin. They will be cared for as one of us, and fall under our protection until we can--”
“Well why did they get attacked in the first place?” A sharp call interrupted. Heads turned, trying to find the source, but no cat stepped forth. Muttering was cast around the clearing, several others echoing the same question.
Scorchstar let Pinestar take the spot at the head of the stone. “ShadowClan has been asking the same question.” The black she-cat paused. “And I will give you the answer I gave them: I do not know.”
“So RiverClan attacked your camp without a reason why?”
“LIAR!”
“Keeping things hidden from your own Clan! Pathetic.”
“Silence!” Scorchstar yelled. “We will not treat our guests in such a way! Does ThunderClan have a scrap of honor?” The more fierce outcries were hushed, but a dull murmur of cats whispering still rang across the hollow. “Now, as I was about to announce: ShadowClan will be staying for as long as it is not safe for them to return home. I will not be responsible for sending queens and kits to their deaths. They will be added to our patrols and are expected to stock our fresh-kill alongside ThunderClan.”
Pinestar dipped her head. “We may be cast out from our territory, but we are still strong. We will not burden ThunderClan for the kindness they have shown in giving us shelter.”
“Pinestar, Featherheart and I will wait on the ShadowClan border to meet with Shimmerstar. Their attack was unprovoked, as far as we can tell, and I’d like to hear justification for her actions. We will find out as much as we can, and find an arrangement to bring the Clans back to peace. But in the meantime, we are expected to co-exist. Help your fellow brothers and sisters in this time of need.”
Pinestar stepped forth again. “Scorchstar is our leader so long as we are within his Clan’s territory. His word is law, and we would do well to abide by it.”
I blinked, surprised. I was at least expecting the black she-cat to announce herself as leader of her own cats, or at least deputy to them. Did Pinestar give up her power so easily? Or was there something else going on?
I narrowed my eyes as the two leaders retreated back into the cave behind the ledge, watching the entrance long after the cats had already disappeared.
“Mossclaw! Do I need to call you Mossears? Your patrol has been out of camp for ages!” Birchcloud’s green eyes were flashing, but I doubted she was really angry at me. More likely the white she-cat was stressed due to the added pressure the ShadowClan cats put on her.
I flicked my ears in apology and jumped out to join my patrol, who hadn’t really gotten as far as I wished they had.
C H A P T E R 1 9
I dropped the sparrow I had caught by the entrance to camp. Since we had so many more cats to feed, we had decided to hunt outside of ThunderClan’s usual territory. The going was slow --both due to our unfamiliarity of the area and our extra vigilance for dangers-- but fortunately we hadn’t encountered anything worse than week-old fox droppings.
While we were out, I wanted to stay away from the crowded camp as long as possible but at the same time I hadn’t wanted to miss Pinestar and Scorchstar’s return from the RiverClan parley. The mixed sense of urgency and reluctance wore on me even more than the constant threat of danger. At least I could dig my claws into a fox.
I edged around the center of camp to a patch of sun beside the elders’ log. On a normal day it was a hotspot for any cat to relax and gossip. Now only the elders and a few senior warriors from each Clan shared in its warmth. I guessed that the casual mixing of the two groups was still uncomfortable with most of the others if the conversation I walked in on that morning was any indication. The older warriors stuck to the edges, but the elders mingled freely in the center of the warmth.
“‘Ay, Mossclaw. Yer back late, everyone’s be back for ages. Where’d ya go off ta, daisy pickin’?”
I waved a greeting to Barknose and picked my way to an open patch of sun near the old tom. A rugged tortoiseshell she-cat I didn’t recognize was beside him stretched on her side, her tail flicked comfortably over Barknose’s back. “We hunted outside the borders today.”
Barknose snorted and kicked his companion with a paw. “Ya hear that? When we’d be just apprentices me ‘n Snow’d go all the way past that ol’ shack near ShadowClan, remember? With tha’ ol’ grouchy tomcat who’d scrape out yer eyes before he’d give ya the time o’ day. Unless you’d give ‘im some catnip. Then he’d be harmless as a little butterfly he was.”
“Yes, yes, you and your little Snowpetal never ceased to cause a ruckus. A tiny thing she was, yet absolutely fearless.” The she-cat’s voice was like nothing I had ever heard. She hung onto her words, drawing out the vowels and rounding the harsh edges in a musical manner.
“Aye, she burned bright and fast that one did,” Barknose said with a smile. “Ah, where’d me manners? Mossclaw, this’ll be Dapplesong. Ya perhaps haven’t met, she don’t get out much these days.” He leaned closer to me and continued in a stage whisper, “but she be all over back when we be small. A wild one.” He winked as Dapplesong’s tail tapped against his back, one paw possessively placed on his side.
I dipped my head towards the ShadowClan elder. “Nice to meet you, Dapplesong. You have a beautiful voice.”
“That’s where she gets ‘er name. Rowanstar’d be completely stunned by ‘er. Along with everyone else she be meetin’” Dapplesong purred but gave no other reply.
“Did I miss Scorchstar?” I asked Barknose.
The old tomcat shook his head. “Thought that’d be them’uns when yur huntin’ party got back here.”
We had crossed much farther than the ShadowClan border with the hunting patrol, and had to teach the two ShadowClan warriors how to not be eaten by rosebushes. A chill rushed through me. “I should probably find Birchcloud. Or Dustwind,” I said, more to myself than the other two. I nodded again to Dapplesong as I stood, making my way to the highledge. The clearing was full of cats, but my glare cleared the way and I didn’t need to resort to pushing my way through the growing crowd.
The senior warriors stood at the base of the stone wall between the medicine cat’s den and highledge. Birchcloud was at their head: the she-cat wasn’t large, but she commanded much of the space. Dustwind and Spiderfall were also present, along with Rosebreeze. Ferretmask sat beside Birchcloud, while two other ShadowClan cats stood close to him. I recognized the older calico she-cat as Dawnmist, a senior warrior around Rosebreeze’s age. There was also a younger grey tomcat I didn’t know, but that shared Acornbee’s distinctive white-blue eyes as he turned his head towards me.
I didn’t bother waiting to catch Birchcloud’s attention. I walked up to the circle, inserting myself between the ShadowClan tom and Spiderfall. “They wouldn’t want us to interrupt the parley,” Birchcloud said firmly.
“We should have sent at least a couple warriors for protection,” Dustwind argued.
“Or at least had someone ready to take messages back to the Clan,” Rosebreeze added.
Dawnmist nodded, her glare split between the two deputies. “These scheming RiverClan foxdung warriors killed Appleberry, they don’t give two mouse tails about peace or the warrior code.” Her lip curled in a snarl as she focused on Ferretmask, who was doing his best to watch the dirt between his paws. The ShadowClan deputy seemed content to defer to Birchcloud’s judgement on the matter.
“And that’s why we must trust in our leaders. RiverClan may take a patrol of warriors as a sign of aggression, a trap, anything, and use that as a reason to break this fragile truce. We would be putting them in further danger, not helping.”
“There is no truce,” Dawnmist curled her claws into the dirt, her snarl venomous. “We are far past peaceful parley, and RiverClan’s actions speak louder than any snake-tongued words they’ll use as an excuse. We should be setting a trap, not waiting patiently at the border pitifully mewling like kits.”
“No,” I said. Birchcloud’s eyes flashed. I got the feeling that if I hadn’t taken her side, she would have called out my intrusion to this argument, and even now I was on thin ice. Tread carefully. I paused, testing the reaction of the group, who had all turned their eyes on me.
“You are both in the right. I agree, sending a patrol would only harm any communication they managed with RiverClan. But I worry for our leaders. Scorchstar is a capable warrior, but even he could not win against the combined might of a Clan.” Birchcloud leaned forward to interject but I flicked my ears and continued on, looking the white deputy in the eye with a wry smile. “We all know Scorchstar would never flee if he thought there was even a chance, however slim, that he could talk Shimmerstar down.”
Birchcloud simmered but sat back down, curling her tail across her paws. “Two warriors,” I put out a paw into the circle, curling my claws into the dirt. “I’ll take Heronfoot with me. And Gorsefox can shadow us in the treetops, in case something goes wrong.”
“I should be the one-” “I’m going,” Dustwind and Spiderfall said at the same time. The two toms shared a glance.
“I’m the best fighter we have, if a fight breaks out, I’m the best shot at getting Scorchstar out alive.” I paused, looking over the group, allowing time for any of them to challenge me. Rosebreeze met my eyes and gave a small smile. I dipped my head. “And Heronfoot because of his parentage. It’s likely Reedblaze will be there, and it can’t hurt to remind him that while we may have different allegiances, all the Clans share blood. I think they’ll be less likely to lash out at their deputy’s only son. Gorsefox is good at climbing and level headed to boot. If any cat has a chance at getting away without being seen, it's him.” I turned towards the two toms. “And ThunderClan needs you both here. If none of us make it back, it’ll be one of you that becomes deputy,” I said bluntly. “And with a statement like that, it will truly be war.”
Birchcloud’s glare was piercing, but I met it without looking away. I could see that the other ThunderClan warriors agreed and Ferretmask had finally brought his eyes up from his paws. Even Dawnmist looked somewhat appeased, no longer leaning into the circle with bared fangs. I knew at this point, my plan would go through, but it would be easiest if I convinced Birchcloud as well. It was several long moments as she looked around the circle, coming to the same conclusion I had. Finally she gave a sharp nod. “Be patient, be careful; I hope to all of StarClan that everyone comes home safely tonight.”
“Heronfoot was my mentor, he’ll keep me in line,” I joked. Birchcloud shook her head, but didn’t comment as she gestured to Ferretmask, Dustwind and Spiderfall, who followed the ThunderClan deputy as they retreated closer to the highledge.
Rosebreeze tapped Dawnmist with her tail, startling the other she-cat. “They’ll be fine,” the ThunderClan warrior offered. Dawnmist smiled stiffly, her claws still dug deep into the earth as if the calico she-cat was holding herself still only by force of will.
The smaller grey ShadowClan tom turned his large, pale eyes towards me and I had to hold myself under his gaze. “Thank you,” he said, like an afterthought. I nodded, backing away as my fur prickled annoyingly at my shoulders. Creepy. I had to shake off the feeling when I turned back into the thick crowd of gathered cats, searching for Heronfoot and Gorsefox in the press. Finally, we had a plan of action and something to dig my claws into. Or not, but a cat could hope, right?