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"Die Dunkelheit kommt, wenn das Licht geht,
(The darkness comes when the light fades)
Die Fährte des Guten, vom Bösen hinweggefegt
(The tracks of the good, swept away by evil)
Verderben all jener, die den Zorn säen!
(Destruction to all those who sow the wrath!)" - E Nomine
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Six
Iceheart's third leaf-bare with the Clan arrived cold and windy, the gusts promising a bitter season in the days to come. The black tom snorted irritably as a branch bent and dumped a load of wet, heavy snow on him. He shook his pelt and shivered, fluffing up his fur to try and keep out the worst of the chill. All the while, because Nettlespot had wandered off to follow a scent trail, he had to listen to Brokentail.
"What frog-brain jumps into a thornbush for a bird?" the brown tabby was growling.
"At least Boulder caught it," Iceheart muttered through his teeth, suppressing another shudder. "You could be a little grateful for the fresh-kill."
Brokentail sniffed, still not looking pleased. Does he ever look pleased? Iceheart asked himself. He thought about it some more and amended, With anyone other than himself, that is?
While the younger warrior went on criticizing Boulder, Iceheart let his mind wander. Much had changed since he'd come to the forest. New leaders and deputies had come into power, and with food growing scarce again, tensions were rising between the Clans. It felt like they were all walking a fine line, and sooner or later, some cat would cross it.
And then? Iceheart pondered what that would mean, but he didn't have an answer.
"If I had been leader," Brokentail was saying, "I'd never have let Boulder into the Clan."
"It's a good thing you weren't leader then, isn't it?" Iceheart remarked absently. As soon as he realized he'd spoken his thoughts, his spine stiffened. Great. Now I'm in for it.
Brokentail's orange eyes were narrowing angrily, his mouth opening to snarl a response. He was interrupted by faint yowling - somewhere in their territory, their Clanmates were in trouble. Iceheart didn't give Brokentail the chance to order him around - he bolted, heading in the direction of the cries.
By the time he got to the Carrionplace, the action was already over, with nothing but blood and torn fur scattered about. The stink of rat was everywhere, and unsteady cat paw prints dotted with blood pointed in the direction of camp. Iceheart followed them more slowly this time. He arrived at camp just as Brokentail and Nettlespot were making their way through the entrance. The bigger tom was carrying a pigeon.
Now he'll be insufferable towards Boulder for the rest of the day. Iceheart swallowed his sigh and followed, more concerned about his Clanmates.
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This was a bad idea. Every hair on Iceheart's pelt was tingling, warning him that there was going to be trouble and he should get out of here while he could.
The yowling had turned out to be Lizardstripe's border patrol - ambushed by rats. Brokentail, young and extremely headstrong, had proposed giving the rodents a taste of their own medicine. Now here they were, keeping the majority of the rats at bay while Blackfoot, Brokentail, Cloudpelt, and Finchflight trapped some to kill in front of their denmates.
The problem was Brokentail was taking his sweet time. He darted in to drive the trapped rats into a tight knot, followed by his Clanmates. Iceheart cast a wary eye on the rodents he was helping to hold back. They were becoming riled, agitated by the frightened squeals of their companions. It was only a matter of time before they made a move and overwhelmed the patrol.
Get on with it!
The cats had forgotten, in their fervor, that rats were intelligent. A quick mind accompanied by desperation and terror could lead to a fatal outcome. When two of the rats Brokentail had been tormenting leaped, Iceheart knew the patrol had lost their best chance.
Foxheart fell with a shriek and chaos erupted. The rats were swiftly dealt with, their necks broken by Brokentail and Cloudpelt, but it was clear that it was far too late. Foxheart's flanks heaved once and fell ominously still.
Iceheart did his part to help his Clanmates beat the rats back, staining the snow red with every blow he aimed. The reek of blood was all around him and the taste of rat filled his mouth, making his stomach churn.
When the last of the rat tails disappeared into the pile of Twoleg trash, Iceheart took a good look around, feeling cold beyond leaf-bare's worst nights seep into his bones. Foxheart's body was growing just as cold, and for what? The young warrior felt his lip curl when he looked at Raggedstar. Some leader you are. Look at what your son talked you into.
"We won," he heard Runningpaw say.
This wasn't a battle we should have chosen, Iceheart longed to reply.
That night, instead of sitting vigil for Foxheart, he curled up in the elders' den to talk to Nightpelt. His friend's cough, despite Yellowfang's efforts, was only getting worse. It couldn't be easy, to be so young and yet not able to serve his Clan like he wanted to.
"You should be out there," Nightpelt meowed, not quite meeting Iceheart's gaze. He pretended not to catch the hint that Nightpelt wanted to be alone. It wouldn't do either of them any good to be left alone to brood.
"Forgive me for not wanting to look at our oh-so-noble leader right now," Iceheart muttered.
He got a snort in reply. "I didn't know you cared about Foxheart so much."
The younger tom couldn't help the soft, disgusted noise he made. "I didn't, but the fact is that she would still be alive if Raggedstar hadn't been talked into this frog-brained plan." Nightpelt shifted in his new nest, but didn't interrupt. "He's no better than Brokentail."
"I wouldn't say that," Nightpelt mewed mildly. "I know he does things differently than Cedarstar did, but Raggedstar has led us well for moons now."
"Sure, if by that you mean he refuses to believe his precious son has anything resembling a flaw."
The Clan's youngest elder sighed and shook his head. "I can't force you to like how he leads, but he is our leader. The word of the Clan leader is law."
"Yeah, I know. What does it mean for us, though, if our leader stops thinking of what's best for the Clan?"
"I don't think he has," Nightpelt meowed. "Even the best of leaders make mistakes, Iceheart. Surely you know that."
Iceheart groaned and flipped onto his back, looking at Nightpelt upside down. "I do. Sometimes I wish Cedarstar were still here, that's all."
Nightpelt hummed softly but didn't reply.
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Iceheart slept extremely poorly that night. His dreams were tormented, filled with blood and death and Tigerclaw's smug, gloating face.
In the first, it took the ShadowClan warrior entirely too long to realize his enemy looked so happy because Iceheart was dying. There was a ragged hole in his throat, his life ebbing away, and that hated gaze was mocking him, offering him no escape even in death.
The small tom awoke abruptly, eyes shooting wide open as he sucked in a lungful of sweet air. He was alright - he was alive. Tigerclaw was somewhere else entirely, and he couldn't get to Iceheart in the ShadowClan camp. Despite knowing that, it was a long time before he relaxed enough to sleep again.
The second nightmare was decidedly more absurd, but no less terrifying. Iceheart stood backed against the Clanrock, a horde of monstrously distorted rats before him. Their teeth were huge and dripping with gore, their claws long and thorn-sharp, their fur ragged and flesh torn to expose muscle, bone, and in some cases engorged pulsing pockets of pus.
Behind them was Tigerclaw, teeth bared triumphantly. The huge tabby was even bigger than in life, several times Iceheart's size, as though he'd shrunk to the size of a kit. Tigerclaw flicked his tail, the rats surged forward, and just as the first of them sunk its horrifying fangs into Iceheart's flesh, he woke again.
He did not try to sleep again after that.
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Cloudpelt was Foxheart's replacement, to Brokentail's very obvious displeasure. Iceheart wanted to rake his claws over the idiot's ears. A cat had to have had an apprentice to be named deputy, not to mention Brokentail was barely a warrior. A very immature warrior at that.
Arrogant young cats aside, Iceheart continued to have trouble sleeping. He considered going to Yellowfang for poppy seeds, but the very thought of not being able to wake up from his nightmares was even more terrifying than having them plague him every night. For the time being, he decided to put up with them.
The forest begam to warm and sing of the coming newleaf, the sound of droplets falling a constant in the background. To Iceheart's disgust, one of Rowanberry's kits - Stumpypaw - was given to Brokentail to mentor.
Which, from Nightpelt's account, wasn't going well for the young apprentice at all.
"You're pulling my tail," Iceheart meowed, managing to retrieve his jaw from where it had settled somewhere near the forest floor. "Even Brokentail couldn't be that stupid."
"I'm serious," Nightpelt insisted. "Yellowfang can back me up."
Having an apprentice hang from a tree by the teeth, Iceheart thought, dazed. Just for talking! It's insane! "Is Stumpypaw okay?" he asked.
"He's fine - but you should've seen how Brokentail talked to Yellowfang. I thought he was going to attack her!"
"I can't say I'd be surprised if he had," Iceheart growled.
Nightpelt was shaking his head again, disbelief all over his features. "I can hardly believe she's brave enough to argue with him," he meowed. "He's..." Words seemed to fail the youngest elder.
"Utterly mad?" the smaller black tom offered.
His friend snorted softly and muttered, "Something like that."
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Under the light of the full moon, Raggedstar led his Clan to the Gathering. The night air was greenleaf-warm and high above, the stars shone as distantly as ever.
On the lip of the hollow, Iceheart breathed in deeply and let the memories of his first Gathering wash over him. Much had changed, and it was growing increasingly difficult to remember the faces of the leaders that had once stood on the Great Rock.
Bluestar had taken Sunstar's place as leader just a few moons prior. As ShadowClan raced down the slope, Iceheart could see her sitting tall on the large boulder, her fur touched silver. Beside her was Crookedstar, Hailstar's replacement. The only familiar sight was Heatherstar's skinnier form, but every moon she looked more and more tired. As ever, life went on in the forest. Death was an accepted eventuality; not even leaders lived forever.
Iceheart skidded to a stop beside Cloudpelt, giving the young deputy a brief nod before walking off to mingle. He didn't have many friends in the other Clans, but even small snippets of news could be useful.
He didn't expect to run into Tigerclaw nearly immediately.
The big tabby's lip curled. "If it isn't the kittypet who pretends to be a warrior," he growled.
Pleasant as ever. Iceheart wanted to rake his claws over the fox-heart's muzzle. "Tigerclaw," he greeted coolly instead.
"I was hoping to hear you'd run home." The massive striped head came closer, Tigerclaw's amber eyes narrowing. "I do think I like this better, though. I'll get the pleasure of sending you running to your Twolegs myself."
"Try it," Iceheart returned evenly, glaring back, "and see what happens." He was rather proud that his voice didn't so much as shake.
"Put your claws away, you two," Lionheart's voice cut in. "This is a Gathering. Save the antagonism for the battlefield."
Iceheart glanced at the golden tom. He'd grown a lot since their first meeting, becoming a fine warrior and a worthy opponent - but he'd never lost his mild nature. It was something Iceheart privately admired.
Tigerclaw's voice immediately became smoother and almost sickeningly honeyed. "No need to remind me, Lionheart," he meowed. "I was just making sure the kittypet here knows his place."
"My place is equal to yours," Iceheart retorted. "Maybe you should worry more about that leaky memory of yours than my collar."
"Enough," Lionheart meowed more firmly, stepping between them. "The leaders are about to speak. Let's go find a place to sit, Tigerclaw." He nudged the dark tabby firmly, tossing over his shoulder as they left, "Nice seeing you again, Iceheart."
Iceheart didn't reply, stalking away to sit beside Amberleaf when she beckoned. "Don't listen to Tigerclaw," she whispered, her breath warming his ear.
"I try not to so much as remember he exists," he lied.
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And indeed, in the following moons Iceheart almost managed it. He would have managed to stop thinking about the ThunderClan cat altogether were it not for the frequent nightmares. The lack of sleep was starting to watch up to him; it showed in every misstep, every sloppy move.
Nutwhisker called him out on it after his second missed frog.
"For StarClan's sake, Iceheart," the brown tom meowed, exasperated, "you can do better than that! Any cat would think you were a new apprentice."
"Sorry," Iceheart mumbled, shuffling his paws. "I haven't been sleeping well." He tried to ignore Mudclaw's inquiring glance; luckily, the older warrior's mouth was occupied by one of the season's last birds and he didn't put it down to speak.
Instead of expressing concern, Nutwhisker snorted. "Everyone in the den knows that, the way you talk in your sleep," he growled. After a short pause, his expression softened. "Why don't you go to Yellowfang for poppy seeds?"
Iceheart winced. "No, I - no," he mewed a little too quickly. "It's just bad dreams. They'll go away eventually."
Nutwhisker didn't look convinced, but let the subject drop. "You'd better be prepared to do an extra hunting patrol, at any rate. The Clan needs all the fresh-kill it can get."
"Yes, I know. I'm sorry."
"Nothing for it," his Clanmate told him. "Let's just keep looking."
When the hunting patrol returned to camp with their small catch, they were greeted by absolute chaos. The smell of blood was thick in the air and several of their Clanmates were injured.
Mudclaw dropped his catch. "What - ?" he began.
"Cloudpelt is hurt badly," Cinderfur rasped, his head low. "Brokentail said he found evidence that WindClan were stealing prey, but...but the border patrol I was on earlier didn't find a thing."
"Rabbit-breaths," Nutwhisker snarled, but Iceheart was staring at Brokentail, a mix of rage and horror making his stomach churn.
"Let me guess," he meowed coldly, "Brokentail suggested we attack."
Cinderfur nodded slowly. "It - it all went wrong," he mewed, sounding lost. "Raggedstar had to order a retreat."
If Cloudpelt dies... Iceheart felt cold all of a sudden. He didn't want to think about it.
In the middle of the night, Yellowfang broke the news: The young deputy had succumbed to his wounds. Raggedstar needed to appoint a new deputy. Not Brokentail, was the only thing Iceheart could think. Please, StarClan, stop Raggedstar from appointing -
"Brokentail will be the new deputy of ShadowClan. True, Brokentail is still younger than most of you - "
Iceheart stopped listening. He watched Brokentail's lips pull back to bare his teeth in a triumphant expression, and wondered just what Raggedstar had sentenced his Clan to.
