Sorry about my late entry. Between daily English book reports and a lack of sleep, I just didn't have the time or motivation to get another chapter done. Oh well, here it is now.

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"This is not going to work," Rabbitleap complains as he struggles to bring the piece of cold slab of meat up on the closed ledge opening.

I chuckle. After outlining the plan to him, he managed to open the large white container in the kitchen. It was pretty cold inside, but I managed to grab a kit-sized hunk of Twoleg food that was dark brown with hints of blue. It smells nice, but we needed it for our plan.

"It'll work," I assure him as I watch him finally get the bait on the ledge.

I hope it works. Please work!

I snack on some fallen salty-smelling crisp discs that fell out of a bag when we closed the white container. It tastes like burnt wood bits, but I don't complain; I've had worse.

Rabbitleap gets back down and tries to open the thing full of sleep-pebbles. I twitch my whiskers as he makes grunts of desperation trying to unhook the top. He stops and looks up at me with a look of annoyance. I can barely suppress a mrrow of amusement.

"A little help here?" he asks, embarrassment beginning to seep out of him.

He backs up as I go to the container and place my teeth on the lid. It takes plenty of effort, but it finally breaks free, throwing out a multitude of sleep-pebbles all over the place.

Now it's Rabbitleap's turn to laugh. "Nice mess," he comments while his eyes dance with laughter. He goes to pick one up.

Uh oh. He's going to grab it with his jaws. "Wait!" I call out.

He stops and looks at me. "What?" he crossly asks.

Those things disintegrate in your mouth. You'd get sleepy before you reached the ledge.

"Hold it with your paws," I tell him, "Treat them like, um, non-killer deathberries."

He rolls his eyes. "And how would I get them up there?" he sarcastically asks. "Non-killer deathberries, Magnum? So they're just berries?"

You're ruining my hastily-created similes, Rabbitleap. Stop making me sound mousebrained.

I look at the disgusting discs. "Sandwich them," I offer.

To make my point I gingerly grab one sleep-pebble with my paws and carefully place it on a disc. I take another with my mouth and put it on top.

"Try it this way," I tell him.

Rabbitleap gives a huff and takes the grouping in his jaws before jumping up next to the meat with his powerful hind legs.

"So I just rub the pebbles in?" he calls.

"Yeah," I answer.

While he laces the bait, I decide to jump up and figure out how to open the opening.

Unless I had a Twoleg's strength, it isn't going to open. Fox dung. Unless…

I notice the piece of wood blocking our path is held in by etched ends on each side. It should fall if I cut into the etching to destabilize it. I unsheathe my claws and begin scratching at the side. The wood bits break rather easily, to my surprise; it must be rotted.

"Watch out," I mention to Rabbitleap, who just finished rubbing the meat full of sleep-pebble. He gets closer beside me and realizes what I'm doing.

"It's going to fall on us," he informs me nervously.

Maybe it will. "No, it won't," I retort, and continue driving my claws into the old boards.

My forth strike does the trick, and the board falls away between Rabbitleap and I to the floor.

We won't have much time. Someone would realize what's going on.

"Go!" I hiss as I leap down to reach the next-door fence line.

He loudly sets his feet on the overgrown vegetation. I hear the yowls of Travis and his goons as they begin to make their way to our position.

So far so good. Here comes the crucial part.

Rabbitleap pointedly struggles with jumping on the fence with the meat in his jaws. His jumps are weaker than his full potential- the warrior can jump pretty high- and keeps falling back down. I meanwhile get out of sight on top of the neighboring Twoleg nest.

Travis and a ginger come galloping from the front of the den, throwing out piercing battle cries as they immediately begin to charge him. Rabbitleap notices, and drops the bait and jumps on the fence.

I see Scorch and the other she-cat round by the back. Uh oh.

Rabbitleap clears the fence line and runs through the rear garden by the nest I'm on. Scorch follows him and leaps the Twoleg wood barrier to continue chase, while Travis and the she-cats crowd around the bait.

Fox dung! Why does it have to be Scorch who follows Rabbitleap?

He's making significant progress on Rabbitleap, who just reached the other side of the garden. He releases his powerful haunches to leap over…

And loses his foothold and falls in front of the murderous rogue.

No!

At this point I'm running along the edge of the nest roof to get to the two cats. Scorch has Rabbitleap in a paw-hold and is savagely nipping at his pelt with his foaming jaws. Rabbitleap, from what I can see, is desperately trying to get out of his clutches.

"StarClan, help me!" I can hear him cry in desperation just before his voice is cut off by another of Scorch's guttural growls.

Fox dung, fox dung, FOX DUNG!

I leap off the corner of the nest and line myself in the air to fall perfectly of Scorch's back, claws unsheathed. I land on him with him stumbling from the unexpected weight, loosening his grip on Rabbitleap. The blood-stained warrior then breaks free from his grasp and turns around to return the favor.

"I gotcha!" I yell to Rabbitleap as he bites a white-furred hind leg.

I only get in a couple of well placed slashes and bites around his scruff before Scorch recovers and fights back, shoving his claw through my shoulder. The pain is intense but I continue to hold on, managing to sink my teeth on his scarred white muzzle. Rabbitleap meanwhile gets the sides with his extended claws, dealing additional punishment while I receive the brunt of Scorch's attacks.

This is payback to all you did, Scorch. All your attacks, all your lust for murder, all your insanity will come to a head.

"Sucks when the wind changes direction, doesn't it?" I hiss in his ear shortly before I tear it with my jaws.

Eventually I can feel Scorch beginning to slow down in his attacks, providing less resistance to our unrelenting blows. Rabbitleap backs away, but I still bite and scratch.

Scorch, in my mind, is one of the most black-hearted cats I've ever met.

"Magnum, stop!" I hear the brown-furred tom yell out. "He's had enough!"

You don't get it, Rabbitleap. He has no soul, no consciousness for what he does.

And that is where I truly stop my attack.

I once had no soul, no consciousness for what I did. Why am I resuming what I promised myself I would never do again?

I step back and study Scorch. His hollow and raspy breathing give a huffing motion to his blood-matted and ripped fur. This is the second time I know it's his blood. He's barely conscious; he can't bring his head up.

What if I was put in his position, to be prepared to live and die by blood? I was once like that, to kill for no other reason than a simple command.

I look at my own grey stained pelt. Some of the blood is mine, but most, particularly around my feet, were splashed with the sticky substance.

How close was I to killing him? Always before, my killing moves were skillful, surgical blows to the belly or neck. This time I almost tore him apart in a bout of uncontrolled rage.

I glance at Rabbitleap. A small look of distrust has begun to form in his eyes again. Distrust for saying I stopped being the bad guy. Distrust for saying I renounced my previous ways.

"He'll live," I tell him in a sober voice. And he will.

We need to get out of here. Travis and the gingers may come looking for Scorch if they hadn't eaten already, and we aren't in the best condition to fight 3 more cats, drugged or otherwise.

I think that defeating Scorch will help convince Travis to leave again.

"Hey Scorch," I hiss menacingly as I pad toward him. I can see his ear perk up slightly. "You are going to tell Travis to leave for real this time, else a scarred pelt will be the least of your worries. I showed mercy on you before and now."

What if he takes that as a weakness on my part? He always fights until he is physically unable to or until the other cat is long dead. Part of the reason why I clawed him to submission, but that's beside the point.

"The third time will not be a charm," I inform him. His ear twitches slowly in reply.

I sheath my claws, and then proceed to knock him unconscious with a swipe to the head.

That should take care of him till sunrise.

It's sundown. We need to get to shelter.

I decide to glance at Rabbitleap again. His orange eyes show a certain uncertainty at my actions toward Scorch. No fear, though; he very well knows I saved his pelt and maybe his life.

"You can still jump, right?" I ask him. Scorch left a good deal of wounds on the youngster.

He shakes himself. "Yeah, I think so," he replies, casting worried glances at the matted pile of mange-pelt known as Scorch.

I look at the Twoleg nest. It's occupied by living Twolegs, but it will serve our purposes. The second floor has an opening that we could get through…

"Good," I say.

Time to make camp.

"We'll deal with Travis in the morning," I tell him.