The three she-cats broke apart as they neared the border, gliding smoothly through the grass as they closed in on it. Rain had thought of this tactic and had taught the other two this three pronged approach. Any enemy singled out would think he only faced one she-cat rather than three. Although Rancor toms would attack blindly and straight on, strangers would be more likely to fight head on with biting and clawing. In those cases, having two others for support was a good plan.
A Rancor patrol was passing by, marking the scent line and taking great care to deliberately ignore the open expanse of grass that marked Red Claw territory. Apparently the death of Scratchface had shaken them up rather badly and they were trying very hard not to acknowledge yet another defeat at the claws of so few cats. Worse, the death of one of Bane's inner circle was a sign that Clan Rancor's weakening. Things were going to be very touchy for some time to come.
Rain wrinkled her nose as they passed and quickly left a scent mark at the border, careful to keep hidden by the grass. Silently, they stalked the Rancor patrol; keeping back and out of sight as they laid their own scent line.
"Ugh, I swear, this border reeks more every day. It's like they're getting smellier with every good Rancor cat they slay." Growled a Rancor tom known as Bonespur, turning back to stare back along the border with a sour expression.
The three queens froze in position, their tails keeping their fur waving and rippling like the grass.
"Overconfidence." Came the retort from Blizzardfang. "I still say we ambush them when they come to use the stream. But noooo. Stupid Bane and his stupid orders. It's like he lives in terror of four Rogues, even with the whole of Clan Rancor behind him."
"Bane will not be a problem for much longer. Either Badgerheart will get sick of his mewling she-cat heart, or someone else will." Blackfog muttered.
"Shut up, shut up, shut UP!" snarled Bonespur, a bit desperately. "Have you already forgotten Stingclaw? No more talk against Bane or his rules. Or do you want to be an Example too?"
Blackfog and Blizzardfang shrank within their pelts and hurried on.
Slowly, wordlessly, Rain and Reed turned to look at Streak, deep sorrow on their faces.
The she-cat stared sightlessly after the three toms, agony etched on her face. "My kit… my first kit… He was only four seasons old… How could Bane…"
Otter flowed out of the shadows. "You all did very well. I'm proud of you for staying hidden, even through such terrible news. You all passed like a bird flying through the open sky." He laid his tail across Streak's back. "Rain, Reed, please go back to camp alone. I think Streak and I have something very important to do."
The two she-cats pressed against Streak from either side, wordlessly offering support and shared grief for Streak's son before slipping off into the tall grass and disappearing from view.
"You don't have to do this you know," Otter meowed, "But if you must, we will go right away."
Streak swallowed thickly. "I have to. I have to know. Bane hasn't made an Example in seasons. If he's truly doing this, we may need to get all of the queens and kits out right away. No one is safe in that camp."
"We cannot rush in. We'll have to come back and plan. But if he did make an Example of your son, we'll make Bane pay; I swear this to you as a Red Claw."
Streak's mouth tightened and she nodded curtly. The two rubbed themselves in the sticky sap until they were covered from head to paws.
Wordlessly they slipped across the border. Otter took a different path to the Resting Place than Ghost had: slipping into the stream and paddling along with the current. Fortunately, the sap was thicker and stickier than water, and could not be washed off by a simple spate of swimming. Streak followed his lead as if she had been born half fish, though by the time they had wended their way to the Resting Place, the sun was setting.
Creeping between rocks until they were right next to the edge, Otter peered over first. His expression said everything when he slipped back from the edge and looked at Streak with grief.
Taking a deep breath, she peered over the edge as well.
Finding the stormy gray fur like her own was easy enough. But there was nothing easy in that sad body that had tumbled far down into the pit. Even from far above, she could see that he was covered in wounds. Bane had indeed made an Example of him. It was the punishment given to those who broke Rancor law; for females who left and were caught, and for those who objected to Bane's orders within his hearing.
If Silver had been caught instead of escaping half a moon ago, this would have been her fate for daring to defy a tom. If the she-cats who were learning to be Red Claws were discovered, Bane would order each of them to be made into an Example. And, Otter knew, Quickclaw would suffer the same fate as poor Stingclaw if any Rancor tom caught him helping the older she-cats to escape. They had already saved his life by killing Scratchface. If one cat could catch Quickclaw in the act, others most certainly could. They would have to make a very bold and decisive move, and get him to come with them.
"We need to get them out." Streak breathed into Otter's ear, "We must. We cannot wait the full moon you promised your siblings. We have to take every last queen and kit and flee! Surely there's a place for us far away from this miserable place! Even if Mist and Lightning haven't found it yet, we cannot wait much longer if this is starting up again!"
Otter looked wretched; "We'll try to plan, but none of the queens will be capable of a long trek. We have to plan to fight Clan Rancor off… all of them… in Red Claw territory. Come on. We have to get back."
As the two slipped back into Redclaw territory, an unfamiliar scent hit both of them and they froze in horror. Sharing a quick glance, they sprinted through the long grass to the border adjacent to Clan Rancor's shared border. The source of the smell was quite obvious as the two skidded to a stop and stared at the huge group of cats lounging by the border. It looked like an attack force, for all that they were resting.
Each cat was muscular and scarred, speaking of moons of fighting behind them. One gaped his jaws in a wide, sleepy yawn: baring sharp, white fangs in the afternoon sunlight. They were all milling about slowly, as though they had just arrived. Each cat sought out a comfortable spot and lay down to rest just outside the border.
"We need to get back," Otter breathed into Streak's ear, "Ghost can get right in close and figure out their plans. The two of us can't do anything against them, and they're not invading yet. Come on. We need to warn the other she-cats too. I pray to the skies above us that we're ready for whatever they plan to throw at us."
The pair turned away and raced through the long grass without looking back. If they had, they would have seen Mist padding through the ranks and settling himself in a spot closest to the border, then turning his back to it. His long tail trailed out behind him, falling just short of crossing the border. He murmured one of the Skyclan toms, "Look! I'm fishing for Red Claws!" The joke sparked a few chuckles as he twitched his tail like a fat worm as though to entice a fish to explore. Then he bathed a paw with slow, leisurely strokes.
Someone would check the border sooner or later. It was best that he be the one to meet the patrol. None of the she-cats his brothers were rescuing would have met him before. They wouldn't recognize him, and so he would have to keep his senses alert.
It wouldn't do to panic his own clanmates into a fight.
.
Poor young Stingclaw… Quickclaw thought sadly. The poor tom had made the mistake of rolling his eyes and muttering how silly it was to be obeying an old tom that was afraid of four measly Rogues, and who would have been culled twice now if he had been a female.
Had it been a stupid thing to say? Yes. But even Badgerheart would have done little more than given him a sharp cuff and told him to mind his tongue. In time, he would have learned that the Red Claws were to be treated with caution, if not respect.
Bane, a massive gray marbled tom, was far less forgiving. And so the young cat was made an Example of. The kits had shivered at the feet of the Queens, who were no better. The toms had flinched at every blow, but even they knew better than to look away during the brutal ritual. Their leader was making a point to every cat, so that none would dare raise their voice against him.
Badgerheart, as the clan's Enforcer, had been the first to obey Bane's Command without hesitation. He leaped on the young tom and savagely began to fight him. Fur and blood had flown until Stingclaw had been defeated, wounded and panting. Then the Enforcer had backed away and the second tom in Bane's ring had leaped upon the tired and injured tom. All of Bane's Inner Circle, fresh and unmarked, had taken turns beating up on the weakening tom; each tearing him with their claws and teeth. By the time the bloody body had collapsed from Bane's final blow, not even the kits had dared to peep and attract their leader's attention.
"Let it be known," Bane's voice had rumbled through the ranks harshly, "that I am leader here. Let no cat forget the price of disobeying Rancor Law." He was silent a moment, waiting for any cat to make a sound. Wisely, no one did. "Take that crowfood to the Resting place," he pointed at Stingclaw's cooling body, "and throw it in so it tumbles to the bottom. Those that aren't carrying the body will clean up the bloody mud. If the blood starts to smell up the camp come sunrise, I'll know why."
The large tom gave the clan a look that chilled the blood of every cat; snakes looked at birds with more kindness. Then he spun around and stalked away, gliding through the grass that carpeted the short path to his den.
There was a heartbeat of silence and then Quickclaw broke the atmosphere of frozen terror to herd the queens and kits back to the nursery. Suddenly every other cat was in motion; finding a reason to be busy one way or another. Quickclaw's manner was much more subdued than the usual brisk demands a Rancor tom usually made of the she-cats. He even hustled them with touches of his tail rather than smacks of his paws. Tonight, everyone had had more than enough of violence.
Badgerheart started organizing cats on cleanup duty. He spared Quickclaw only a glance, and then nodded when he saw that Quickclaw was doing something important already. "Make sure they're all in the nursery, and that they stay there."
Quickclaw let out a relieved breath. It was, all things considered, a light duty to watch the nursery.
The grass suddenly rustled and Bane's head popped back into the open. Activity stumbled a bit, and then hurriedly continued. The big tom ignored everyone else, his hard blue eyes settling on Quickclaw. "Once you get the females situated, join me. They will be fine without a guard. We need to talk."
Quickclaw's blood ran cold, but he nodded. He wanted to stall. He wanted to tuck each kit next to its mother, toms and she-kits alike, individually rather than join his leader in his isolated den. Nobody, however, stalled on anything when Bane gave a direct order. As soon as the last queen's tail slid in, he turned and padded slowly and heavily into his leader's den.
It was cool here, and the lighting was comfortable. A fat squirrel lay in a pool of light near Bane's nest, but was ignored for the time being by the deadly leader. "I've been watching you, Quickclaw."
Quickclaw's heart seized.
"You're ambitious." Bane continued, ignoring the spike of fear scent. Fortunately fear was normal in the terrible leader's presence, especially when he started paying particular attention to any cat. "You also have a thirst to prove yourself… a thirst that put you in the sunbeam for being Challenged by Scratchface himself." There was a heartbeat of silence, and then Bane meowed, "You didn't know that, did you?"
"I… I suspected Scratchface wasn't happy…"
"Wasn't happy?" Bane seemed to think Quickclaw had said something funny, "He was outraged! You took over his favorite duty to the clan by culling all of those queens."
A knot of fear loosened in Quickclaw's stomach. If this was what Bane wanted to talk about then it would be easier than he had feared. He had known it would come up eventually, and had carefully prepared his defenses. "I wasn't trying to usurp him, Bane. I was trying to prove my loyalty." Quickclaw swore.
"Ah yes. Your loyalty. That was smart of you. You do, after all, share blood with that traitorous cat, Silver. She's your sister after all. Her betrayal to Rancor law did indeed put you in a rather precarious position, you know."
Quickclaw shuddered, but went on gamely, "I also share blood with Badgerheart, and he's as loyal to Rancor law as any tom could ask for."
Bane's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a pleased look in his gaze. "Yes. Badgerheart. A good reliable tom, that one. One of the best Enforcers I've had in a long time…" Bane let the silence drag to the point where it became uncomfortable, then he shook his fur out and focused on Quickclaw again. "Eat," Bane invited with a careless flick of his tail at the freshkill.
Quickclaw blinked in surprise, and then gratefully sank his teeth into the juicy squirrel. Prey was never wasted on those about to die. If Bane was sharing prey, then his unpredictable temper had taken another shift to a much more positive light.
"As I said, I've been watching you. You do your duties well, even eagerly. You have initiative in taking the queens out right away rather than waiting for the order to be given. You are efficient. Scratchface was all of those things. I expect you to fill his pawprints from now on."
The tom blinked in surprise. "You're…?"
"Yes." Bane paced slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "I can't really blame you simply because you share blood with that traitorous queen. You're a tom, and far less likely to be weak, cowardly or treacherous like a she-cat. You won't betray me."
The squirrel meat in Quickclaw's stomach suddenly turned to stone.
"You've proven yourself loyal by culling other queens, to make up for failing to cull Silver. Not that I blame you for that either… have you heard back from the Red Claws?" Bane changed the subject abruptly.
"Er… no. Not yet. They said they would come for their reward after the deed was done, and not a day before." Quickclaw prayed that the Red Claws would claim the deed was done soon; half a moon was far too long for a 'hunt' for a female who supposedly couldn't hunt for herself or run far or fast.
Bane's eyes glittered with something dark and amused, his thoughts apparently running in the same direction as Quickclaw's. "I'm not in any particular hurry, mind. They are hunting the queen. I'm quite sure they're finding plenty of things to do to amuse themselves with her before they cull her. The kits would be valuable hostages to keep her pliant to their demands for… fun."
Quickclaw felt sick at the implications in Bane's tone and he shut down his thoughts as hard as he could. He would NOT think of something so horrible! "So…uh…"
"I am getting distracted, please forgive me Quickclaw." There was no actual apology in Bane's tone. "To the point. Scratchface's death has left a hole that needs to be filled. Since you have proven yourself so well, and since the youngsters are obviously getting mouthy with that hole being left unfilled while I grieve…"
Right. Grieve. Quickclaw kept the snide thoughts off his face.
"…I am appointing you to be my Executioner in Scratchface's place. Badgerheart will handle the standard punishments and enforce the law, but you…" Bane's tail caressed Quickclaw's face in a parody of fatherly pride and comfort, "…you will handle all the culling that needs to be done. The culling time is nearly done. When the old, worthless females have been weeded out, I want to hear your plans for exterminating the Red Claws. If that traitorous Stingclaw had anything worthwhile to say, then it was true enough that we've put up with those Red Claws long enough. Do your duty, and then survey the lay of the land. Start planning how we'll strike at those rogues."
Taking that as the dismissal that it was, Quickclaw took the remains of the squirrel to the nursery and then announced his new position to the clan.
He felt the gazes of the other five toms sear his pelt, and of the other five, only his brother's gaze was even remotely friendly. He was a usurper in their eyes; Scratchface had proven himself to be deadly and efficient in his job. Quickclaw was just a young upstart stuffed into his position.
He himself had mixed feelings. On one paw, this gave him free reign to take the she-cats to Ghost and no one would question him. On the other, he was now responsible for making a plan for a deadly war with cats that had already proven many times over that Clan Rancor would suffer dearly for going against them.
Quickclaw was finding it harder to regret his betrayal of Rancor Law with each passing day. As each day passed, he realized that Rancor Ancestors weren't saying a word to Bane; a revelation that puzzled him, but also left him weak with relief.
Clan Rancor has fast becoming a terrible place to be, even for a tom. Time was running out. He needed to warn Ghost tomorrow, when he took Pool to the appointed place. If all of the queens and kits vanished, maybe Quickclaw could disappear in the confusion. It wouldn't be so bad to be a Rogue, compared to what Bane would do if he discovered that Quickclaw had been part of the plan.
