Author's Note: Okay, it was a little more than three weeks, but here's your update. I'm sorry it took so long to write this chapter; between AP tests and finals, I had my hands full with schoolwork. Thanks for sticking with this story, even though it took me about three years (it was months, actually XD) to update.

Since most of you guys seemed to like the ending of the last chapter, I will leave it as it is; however, I will address some points to hopefully satisfy the rest of you, since this story is for my readers, after all. ;) Read, review and enjoy!

Chapter Ten: First Battle!

After his apology, Brokenpaw found that he and Deerpaw had reached an uneasy peace. True, they were still not friends, and most likely never would be, but they were trying to keep their outward animosity to a minimum. Many a time in the past, an accidental bumping of shoulders had led to hisses and glares of hatred; now it simply resulted in an annoyed glance. Peace didn't come easily—Brokenpaw's dislike of Deerpaw went far deeper than the acts he had apologized for and forgiven. Moons of taunting in the nursery still weighed on him; hard feelings that could not be shaken off in one day like rainfall on his fur.

Yet a stalemate was preferable over ripping out one another's fur, so they kept it this way. Brokenpaw had a sneaking, gleeful suspicion that Deerpaw was afraid of him. After all, only the dark tabby had reason to lessen his hostility towards his adopted littermate; Deerpaw had heard no such stories of forgiveness and repentance. The smaller tom had even scorned Brokenpaw's apology. But something was keeping him from antagonizing Brokenpaw, something the larger apprentice liked to think of as fear.

Brokenpaw thought about it now as he walked beside his mentor. He and Nightpelt were on border patrol with Deerpaw, Cloudpelt and Nutwhisker. It had been several weeks since his punishment had been lifted; only a few days after he apologized to Deerpaw, Nightpelt had noticed the change in his attitude and repealed the penalty. Now he was happy to be back to his warrior tasks without having to compromise his time with caring for the elders.

"Is there ever any trouble on the border?" Brokenpaw asked Nightpelt. In all the border patrols he had done—at least a dozen—there had always been an unfortunate lack of activity. Once or twice, they had glimpsed rival patrols, but they never came close enough for a fight. He was starting to get bored with patrolling what seemed like abandoned borders.

"Sometimes, but thankfully not often," replied the black tom absently, his thoughtful gaze ahead. After a moment of silence, he glanced at the unresponsive Brokenpaw, amusement in his eyes. "Why? Do you want trouble?"

"Well, no," Brokenpaw admitted. "But it's so boooring." His mouth opened in a yawn at his last word, distorting it so that it stretched out for longer than the rest of his sentence. Or longer than this border patrol is taking, he thought resentfully, as his jaws snapped shut.

Nightpelt nudged him with an angular shoulder. "My, what a lazy apprentice I have," he remarked ruefully. "Why don't you and Deerpaw go on forward and check out the border if you're so impatient to get there? We'll catch up to you. It'll make a good test."

Pleased to have gotten an assignment, however unremarkable, Brokenpaw bounded off, with Deerpaw trailing after him. The border was only a few fox-lengths ahead of the patrol; it didn't take them long at all to reach the scent markers. At once, both apprentices sensed that something was amiss. Their hackles rose instinctively and the two exchanged an uneasy glance.

We'll go carefully, Brokenpaw signaled with a flick of his ears. Deerpaw made no reply, but prowled cautiously forward, Brokenpaw mirroring his movements a few tail-lengths away.

They stopped suddenly as the wind changed direction, blowing a sharp scent into their faces. WindClan! It was clear the border was not where it was supposed to be. Brokenpaw was aware of the several tail-lengths' discrepancy between the previous and current scent markers. Those scrawny rabbit chasers must have decided to take some of ShadowClan's territory, without even a warning or fair challenge to a battle for it! "Those fox-hearts!" he spat aloud.

"We have to do something about it!" meowed Deerpaw determinedly. A common enemy had put them for once in agreement.

"One of us should go back," said Brokenpaw. "You know, to get the others."

Deerpaw eyed him warily, clearly able to tell that the dark tabby was not thinking of going back himself. "Our mentors would kill us if we let the other one go to fight enemy warriors all alone," he said. "Even if it was only for a few heartbeats." No matter how much it was tempting to let stuffy mouse-brains like you take a beating from enemy warriors, Brokenpaw thought, but he knew the other apprentice was right.

He lashed his tail and straightened up, trying to look as if he were still in command. "We'll go back then," he said. Deerpaw didn't look pleased about Brokenpaw taking charge, but made no comment as they rushed back to rejoin their patrol. All the while, Brokenpaw was aware of the way his shoulder fur prickled, defensive and aggressive, and the blood rushing in his ears. How dare anyone trespass on my territory?

The other warriors soon came into sight. "WindClan moved their borders!" he reported, huffing for breath after the sprint.

Nightpelt looked surprised; his hackles began to rise a moment later as the words sunk in. "Show me," he ordered, beckoning to the rest of the patrol with a sweep of his tail.

Brokenpaw led the way back to the border. He watched as his mentor lowered his dark head to sniff the earth carefully. A growl began in Nightpelt's throat, shocking Brokenpaw, who had never seen him this angry. He flicked his ears up suddenly, alerted by the sounds of paw-steps on the soft pine needles that covered the ground, and raised his head, just as a cat strolled out from the hedges, lazily coming to a halt on what should have been ShadowClan territory.

"This land now belongs to WindClan," the newcomer announced, his amber eyes triumphant and mocking. With a fresh wave of rage, Brokenpaw recognized him as Reedfeather, WindClan's deputy. The light brown tabby shifted into a fighting stance, as at least seven other warriors emerged from the foliage to back him up. "Go home, ShadowClan cats, or fight for it."

It only took a moment, and an exchanged glance, for the patrol to make up their minds. Nutwhisker stepped to the front of their group, as the most senior warrior present, and raised his head defiantly. "ShadowClan will never surrender our territory to the likes of fox-hearts like you!" he spat. "We will fight!" And with that, the ShadowClan patrol sprang into battle, lunging towards the trespassing warriors and fighting with the ferocity of tigers.

A tortoiseshell she-cat confronted Brokenpaw almost instantly, lashing out with thorn-sharp claws. Brokenpaw barely managed to leap back in time, the tips of her claws parting the fur on his face. His body reacted before his mind did, spurring him into one of the moves Nightpelt had taught him; he caught his opponent's front leg with a swipe that brought her stumbling to the ground. Letting instinct take over, he pounced, rolling in a fierce grapple with the tortoiseshell. The moment he found his paws again, he kicked out strongly with his hind paws, winding her.

"We're way too outnumbered!" Brokenpaw heard Nightpelt shout from the chaos. Which means we need backup! his mind filled in. He whirled towards the nearest cat, which happened to be Deerpaw. Not the most agreeable cat, but the only one that doesn't surpass me in seniority.

"Go back to camp and get reinforcements!" he shouted.

"No way!" growled Deerpaw, instantly defensive. "So you can hog all the glory and boast about how you defeated all the WindClan warriors? I don't think so!"

Brokenpaw's eyes stretched wide in disbelief. He hadn't even meant to start a quarrel, but the other apprentice seemed ready to take his words as a challenge. "You're being mouse-brained!" he argued, wrestling with his quickly evaporating patience.

"Oh yeah?" snapped the lighter tom. "If it's so mouse-brained of me, then you go!"

"Stop acting like a kit!" Brokenpaw snapped back. "You know I'm stronger, so get over yourself and make yourself useful!"

Deerpaw's eyes stretched wide, then narrowed. "You want to bet?"

Brokenpaw let out his breath in a huff of impatience. "Just go!"

Deerpaw hesitated, looking as if he would like to keep arguing, then scowled, clearly thinking batter of it. "Whatever," he said. "But just so you know, I'm not doing this because you said so. I'm only going because we're going to get pounded in this fight, and some cat has to be responsible!" With that, he bounded off, probably before Brokenpaw could rake off all the fur on his backside. StarClan knew the dark tabby wanted to.

He sighed, frustrated that he hadn't been able to curb his temper. I'm supposed to be better than this, he reminded himself. Shaking off his regret—the battlefield was no place for such emotions-, he lunged back into the fight.

A gray and white tom attacked him from the side, bowling him over. Brokenpaw gritted his teeth and slashed the warrior's shoulder with his claws, before struggling free. Almost as soon as they broke apart, the WindClan cat was facing him and going on the offensive, trying to overpower the apprentice. Rolling into a defensive stance, Brokenpaw struggled to parry the blows raining down on him. He's too fast! he thought in dismay, as he missed and missed again, feeling sharp strikes on his face and shoulders.

Suddenly, his opponent was thrown off balance, struck by a dark blur. "Need a little help?" It was Nightpelt, bowling over the gray and white tom and forcing him away from Brokenpaw. The dark brown tabby sprang forward to help. Matching blows, they attacked the enemy warrior until he flattened his now-shredded ears and fled with his tail streaming out behind him.

"Nice work," panted Nightpelt, his chest heaving with the effort of driving off the opponent. His face suddenly twisted in pain as he coughed violently. He managed to stay on his paws, but his shoulders hunched as the force of his coughs shook his body.

"Nightpelt!" said Brokenpaw, alarmed. He used his shoulder to support his mentor, guiding him over to the shelter of a nearby pine tree. It was clear that Nightpelt was in no condition to fight; the battle had worn him out too much. Brokenpaw gently lowered the black tom to the ground, his heart pounding anxiously. His mentor shook with racking coughs, his claws raking the earth.

Brokenpaw glanced desperately out at the battle, torn between his loyalty to his mentor and his need to fight. Even with the gray and white tom out of the battle, the ShadowClan warriors were outnumbered, especially with Nightpelt down, Deerpaw off for reinforcements and Brokenpaw standing guard over Nightpelt. Cloudpelt and Nutwhisker fought bravely, but they had begun to falter, only two cats against six.

"Go," said Nightpelt firmly. Brokenpaw turned back to his mentor; he had struggled into a half-sitting position, his back half still splayed out, while his front paws propped him up. His breathing had eased, but his chest still rose and fell rapidly. Seeing Brokenpaw's hesitation, he added, "I'll be fine! The others need your help more."

That was all he needed to hear. With a nod, Brokenpaw whirled and ran back into the fight, hurtling straight into a dark gray she-cat and bowling her over with his momentum. For a moment, it seemed as if he was overpowering her, but she was a clever fighter. With a quick lash, she swept his back paws out from underneath him and darted under him as he tripped, slashing his belly as she streaked away to attack Nutwhisker. The older tom was already struggling to fight off both a dark ginger tom and Reedfeather, who were slashing at him from both sides.

Brokenpaw leapt to his paws and streaked after the gray she-cat. I have to get to her before she ends him!He'll never be able to fight three cats at once! Desperation drove his paws, the adrenaline racing through his veins empowering him. Gaining on his opponent, he pounced on her shoulders, sending her stumbling to the ground with a yowl of shock. The two of them tumbled head over tail, claws digging painfully in as they struggled.

Brokenpaw felt a powerful blow force them apart, and his heart seemed to freeze. StarClan help me! He was an apprentice; as much natural talent as he had, he wouldn't stand a chance against two fully trained warriors.

But as he straightened to his paws, he recognized the dark brown tabby that was hurling away the gray she-cat and whirling to battle the ginger tom that picked on Nutwhisker. Raggedpelt!He blinked the blood and sweat out of his eyes, ecstatic to see Russetfur, Blackfoot, Hollyflower and Cedarstar himself pouring into the clearing, followed a moment later by Deerpaw. The ShadowClan reinforcements had arrived!

"How dare you invade ShadowClan territory?" demanded Cedarstar, his eyes flashing, as he confronted Reedfeather.

"It's our territory now!" the WindClan deputy hissed, his tail lashing.

"Not while I rule ShadowClan!" Cedarstar shot back. The powerful gray leader lunged at Reedfeather and sent him tumbling backwards as the fight resumed.

"Are you alright?" Raggedpelt asked, appearing at Brokenpaw's side.

"Fine!" he exclaimed, practically glowing. His injuries no longer seemed to hurt now that he knew his Clan held the advantage.

Raggedpelt nodded to a dusky brown tom in front of them. "Then let's take him together."

Father and son attacked their enemy together, lashing at the WindClan warrior from either side. Raggedpelt threw his weight on the tom's shoulders, while Brokenpaw darted in to knock the cat's paws out from underneath him. "Nice!" said Raggedpelt as their opponent crashed to the ground with a yowl. The ShadowClan deputy pinned him, holding him down so Brokenpaw could box his ears and give him a nasty bite on the tail. Yowling in pain, the brown tom cringed away.

"We got him!" Brokenpaw said in delight, as Raggedpelt let him up and the tom streaked away. He turned to survey the battlefield. There were two ShadowClan cats for every WindClan warrior, gang attacking with expert moves. Nutwhisker and Blackfoot bullied the dark gray she-cat, while Russetfur and Hollyflower tag-teamed the tortoiseshell Brokenpaw had fought at the beginning of the battle. Deerpaw and Cloudpelt worked together to overpower a white tom, whose pale pelt was streaked with blood and grime from the battle. Cedarstar grappled with Reedfeather, both toms exchanging vicious blows. Thinking back, Brokenpaw remembered the gray and white tom he and Nightpelt had thrashed, and the dusky brown tom he and Raggepelt had just bested. So, where's the last cat…?

Almost as soon as the thought the words, a gray-black tom came pounding out of the bushes, more cats streaming out behind him. He must have gone for his own reinforcements! Brokenpaw realized, his heart sinking in dread.

"We have to keep fighting!" mewed Raggedpelt grimly from beside him. The deputy turned and threw himself back into the fray, vanishing from Brokenpaw's sight.

Brokenpaw rejoined the battle, hurling himself into the chaos. He became a mindless fighter, barely stopping to see who his enemies were, only making sure that they weren't his own Clanmates. Not a ShadowClan cat… that's the dark gray she-cat from before… oops, I can't attack Nutwhisker… I don't know him… Ouch, these WindClan cats are better than I would have thought!

He sent a bracken-colored tom fleeing into the bushes on his own, then teamed up with Blackfoot to defeat the dark-gray she-cat from before, forcing her to retreat this time. He was aware of Nutwhisker driving off the dark ginger tom on one side and Raggedpelt dealing the winning blow to a brown tabby a moment later on the other.

At last, Brokenpaw heard a yowl of retreat. His gaze flashing up, he saw that Reedfeather was standing in a defensive posture, his head lowered in grudging defeat. "You may have won this time, but at a cost," the WingClan deputy snarled, rage and satisfaction glowing like twin flames in his eyes. He jerked his head towards a cat somewhere Brokenpaw couldn't see over the other warriors' shoulders. "We will be back, and next time, we will not be defeated so easily!" With that, he turned away and fled, his Clanmates streaming behind him.

That's right, run away, you cowards! Brokenpaw thought, giving a triumphant yowl after them. It took him a moment to realize that none of his Clanmates had joined in; instead, he heard ripples on anxiety and concern. Something had happened. The meaning of the deputy's words sank in: At a cost… Great StarClan, we can't have lost one of our warriors… could we?

Brokenpaw shouldered his way through the crowd that had gathered, a horrible sinking feeling in his chest. He only caught a glimpse of a gray shape sprawled out on the ground before his father intercepted him, his amber eyes burning with worry. "Go get Yellowfang," Raggedpelt ordered. "Tell her Cedarstar's been badly wounded."

…

Brokenpaw looked on, feeling numb, as Yellowfang took charge of the situation the moment they returned to the clearing, ordering the warriors to assess their wounds and take care of the minor ones immediately. Then she beckoned Brokenpaw over with her tail.

"Are you badly injured?" she asked. Her voice was steady, with a calmness that only an experienced medicine cat possessed, but he could see the worry in her eyes.

"No," he replied, standing tall; the only wound that hurt him was the one on his belly, but it was shallow and would heal on its own. His mind buzzed with too many troubled feelings to be concerned about himself anyway.

"Good," she said, some of her visible tension fading. "I want you to help Runningpaw treat the others."

"Really? But I don't have training," Brokenpaw protested, eyes wide.

"You know enough from helping me," Yellowfang said firmly. "Ask Runningpaw if you don't know something. Do you hear me?" Her orange gaze, fixed steadfastly on his own, left no room for argument. Brokenpaw nodded mutely. "Now go; I need to treat Cedarstar."

Brokenpaw crossed the battlefield to where Runningpaw was treating Nightpelt, some part of him glad that Yellowfang still found use in his help, the other half screaming that Cedarstar must be really bad for Yellowfang to devote her full efforts to him. "Yellowfang asked me to help you," he told the other apprentice, pushing his worry to the back of his mind.

Runningpaw nodded, avoiding his gaze. Brokenpaw felt a pang of satisfaction that the smaller tom was still scared of him, before shoving it away as he realized that their rivalry must be put aside if they wanted to help their Clan. He promised himself to extend forgiveness to the cat who had replaced him as Yellowfang's assistant, if they could get through this day.

The two of them worked together in silent unity, functioning as a team. The only times they spoke was to ask one another for a certain herb, or to inquire about a certain cat's condition as they crossed paths. Their busy work left little room for conversing, let alone argument. Even as they worked together to treat an individual, the anxiety buzzing in their minds absorbed the half of their conscious that was not dedicated to their efforts.

At last, all the injuries had been treated. Runningpaw and Brokenpaw exchanged a glance, wondering if they should see how Yellowfang was doing. Neither one came up with an answer, so they sat silently together, watching their medicine cat try to heal their leader.

"Is it his last life?" Brokenpaw asked Runningpaw, breaking the silence for a moment as he remembered the medicine cats' ability to tell how many their leader had left.

"I think so," replied Runningpaw, his voice hushed.

After what seemed like moons, Yellowfang straightened up and turned away from Cedarstar. Her face was exhausted, and her eyes defeated. "Fetch Raggedpelt," she said to Brokenpaw. He knew what her next words would be before she said them.

"Cedarstar is dead."