The smell of blood hits me suddenly, clogging up the other scents of the forest. I stumble back a few steps wrinkling my nose. Where had all this come from?
I take a deeper breath, almost gagging on the rusty metical sent. This isn't squirrel blood or the blood of some random mouse that a hunting patrol forgot to take back to camp. This is cat blood. And there's a lot of it. I peer back over my shoulder. I can hear the hunting patrol scuffling around, talking louder than they should be. I only have to open my jaws and they'll come running, eager to investigate, to protect me. But I don't say anything. Something tells me that this cat has lost too much blood to live anyway. I take a step forward. Go back, a tiny voice yells in the back of my mind, what makes you think that it's safe to look around over there? What if the attacker is still around? You'd be dead. But I take another step forward and look around a fallen log. There, in a pool of fresh blood, is a cat that I've never seen before. I allow myself one horrible sigh of relief. At least it's not a Shadowclan cat. I lift my nose to the air, seeing if I can sent a fox, a badger, anything that might have done this. Nothing. The blood is all I can smell. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flicker of movement. The cat's chest raises and he unsheathes blood clogged claws. He's alive.
I trot up to him, sniffing for the worst injures. A long gash on his belly, probably responsible for most of the blood. The top of one ear is gone, he's got a scratch on his face that might have taken out an eye, and several torn claws. He fought back, that's for sure. If I can get some warriors to help me move him to camp, then I can put some burdock root on his claws, mirgold and a lot of cobwebs on his stomach wounds. Some burnet and poppy seeds? No, not poppy seed, but perhaps some da- The world blurs and then goes dark as I hit the ground. I gasp for breath and try to focus my vision. The cat has somehow managed to tackle me to the ground and now has his claws as my throat. His blood is sickeningly warm against my belly fur and he has collapses what must be his full weight on me, crushing my chest. "What? Get off of me, Foxfood." I squirm, but I can't move him. He has one pale, ice-blue eye open, staring blankly at me. He opens his mouth to say something, I think but he coughs instead, spraying blood all over my face. From somewhere behind me comes the sound of crashing bracken. The hunting patrol. Muddystripe, Stormflower, Rowanpaw and Pinefoot.
The strange toms abdomen heaves as he says, "d-don't come…any closer. I-I'll kill her" I wince as I coating of fresh blood dribbles down my side. This tom is going to die before he has time to kill anyone, if he keeps losing blood like that. His claws keep digging into my neck. "Ivypaw," I can hear Pine foot's voice, "hang in there. We'll get you out." I roll my eyes. "I can get myself out, thank you very much." That's actually not a lie. I could kick him in his stomach wound without too much effort on my part. It would probably kill him, or at the least be very painful, so I decide to wait on that.
The tom growls. But his eyes are glassy, blank. He knows what happening. "Y-y-you have…to help me. T-t-then I'll let her go." he sinks his claw in deeper. I feel blood rolling down my neck, and this time, it's not his. "We'll help, mousebrain, just let go of our apprentice!" Stormfeather yowls, her tail lashing. It's no use. I feel the skin at my neck tearing, the stranger's hot, bloody breath in my face.
I close my eyes and in one swift movement, I bring my hind leg underneath me and push. I feel the ragged, wet edges of the tom's wound against my pad, his screams of pain echoing in my ears. He stumbles back as few paces and falls, blood coursing out of him like a crimson river.
"Ivypaw," Rowanpaw races to my side, "oh, Great Starclan, are you okay? That blood isn't yours, is it?" "I'm fine," I answer absentmindedly, my eyes fixed on the unmoving tom. We had to get him back to camp, immediately. "Muddysplash, do you think you can carry him?" I say. The tom looks puzzled, but nods.
Stormfeather bristles. "You're going to bring him to camp? He just tried to kill you!"
"Yes," I replied evenly, "but don't you want to know who he is?" She drew back her head. "Does it matter?" "A dying cat just tried to kill me, and I would like to know why." I didn't mention that I also really wanted to try to heal him, just because it doesn't look like he can be saved. I'm always up for a challenge. Muddystripe and Pinefoot host the tom on their back and I lead the way through the forest, Rowanpaw at my side with Stormfeather sulking at the back of the party. I worked my paws thought the forest floor. Silverpaw would never believe this story. We duck through the pine boughs and march into camp.