Mm, it's been awhile, huh? Sorry, school just started up again and stuff, and my new schedule is all agjdswksfjds. You know how it is. Maybe. XD

Crowstorm - Hee~ Loophole, I assume. You'll see more soooon~

LegendaryHero - Ooooooh. History. Bleh. Haaaa, I really did use to be able to do more than one in a day! It's true! Look at Shattered or Salvation! ...Actually, I don't think you can see when I posted them at, can you? XD BUT I SWEAR IT'S TRUE. But that is when I was in high school...everything was easier when I was in high school. Now I'm like a capital A Adult with capital R Responsibilities. D:

Amazingly awesome person - Hee~! Here's an update, then! :D

Kitro Kat - Happy New Year to you, too! My resolution for the new year is to talk to more people. I usually tend to just sit in the front of my classes with my nose in a book, but I'm gonna try harder to not be such an introvert! XD

Now onto the story~


River's red pelt rippled as he walked, a brighter red than Declan's dusty pelt but not as silky or thick. At his side prowled Gravel, whose eyes kept shooting around the forest, peering into the darkness as if he expected rogues to leap out of the bushes at any heartbeat. Even Flint, who had barely healed, was there, jaw set and eyes burning with a light Twist recognized easily as vengeance—she'd seen it enough in Stripes's yellow eyes to see it now.

River had introduced her to the other two cats he'd gotten to come with him—a battered and ragged-pelted black tom named Beck and a hard-eyed wiry she-cat called Lightfoot.

At first mention of her name, Twist had been surprised—and a little scared. Lightfoot had the name of a Clan cat like the ones who'd put down the gang a moon earlier, but Lightfoot didn't seem to have any traits of those warriors. She was silent and cold, her anger much more directed and controlled than Flint's, which sped his paws and strengthened his muscles. At the first burst of sound, Lightfoot had reacted so quickly and viciously that even the other cats in the little group had been uneasy.

Beck was small and light-framed, his black pelt smooth and unmarked, but Lightfoot was something else entirely. From the peak of her neat, triangular face, black fur drew a dark line, across her back and down her sides like a shadow, all the way to the tip of her tail. The fur that framed her face was fluffy and white, looking soft as downy feathers, and her paws and tail had similar fringing. Her eyes were a vivid green, almost painful to look at for their vibrancy.

"She might be a little different than us," River told her under his breath, eyes darting to the she-cat and away, "but she is an efficient killer. She killed a fox that got into the Warren once before anyone could even say anything. It was during her trials—she was stuck in the Warren working like you and Declan did—and Lucky didn't need to see any more than that: he made her a Slider that instant."

Twist shot a wary look at Lightfoot. The she-cat had a dangerous edge to her that reminded Twist sharply of someone she dearly wished she could forget.

Lightfoot turned those vivid green eyes Twist's direction, glaring piercingly, but she spoke to River. "Are we almost there?"

Surprisingly, it was Flint who answered. "No," he mewed. "Not yet."

Lightfoot looked at him. "How do you know?"

His voice was grim when he replied, "We haven't been attacked yet."

Twist couldn't hold back a shiver. "That means they have sentries around."

"Yes." River looked thoughtful. "We'll have to proceed carefully."

"Why?" Beck demanded. "Why not let out presence be known and draw them out like rats to rubbish?"

"That's foolish!" Gravel snapped, his pelt bristling on edge—he was clearly keyed-up in this situation. "We need to listen to River. This is his patrol anyway."

"Yes, against the better judgment of Lucky." Beck's voice was sardonic.

"No one asked you to come. If you'd rather have had Lucky sit around and do nothing, you should have stayed in the Warren." River took a step forward until he and Beck were nose to nose. "Or are you thinking you should be in charge?"

Beck didn't back down. "Maybe I am. What would you do then?"

"I won't let anything get in charge of this mission. If we kill the Rogue, all our problems will be solved. We'll be able to claim their land and move out of the trash-place. It'll be better for everyone."

"Who died and made you Lucky?" Beck spat, arching his back. "Because I don't recall placing my vote for you."

"We need to be quiet!" Gravel was eyeing the trees nervously. "River, please."

This was getting out of control. The way that River and Beck were hissing and carrying on, it would surely lead to a brawl right there in enemy territory. Twist stepped forward, "River, can we—"

"No," Lightfoot said, blocking Twist's path with her tail. "This is a matter to settle between toms."

Twist blinked incredulously. "You'd let them alert the enemy?"

Lightfoot narrowed her brilliant eyes to slits. "I don't get in the middle of a fight that isn't mine to win. Stand aside and let them handle it."

Twist bared her teeth. "I'm not going to put my own neck on the line for two stupid toms!"

Eyes flashing, Lightfoot took a step closer. Slowly, she curled her lips back from her teeth and unsheathed her claws. "Would you care to continue this, or are you going to be silent? I told you not to invite kits on an adult's mission, River."

River jerked his head away from Beck, with whom he was exchanging snarls, to glower at her. "She's worth more than most Sliders. She doesn't listen to Lucky's self-preservation garbage."

"I didn't say that," Twist argued hotly. "Max was hurt because of this stupid cat. That's the only reason I'm here. I don't give a mousetail for your gang's politics."

Lightfoot laughed, amused, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "Our gang," she repeated with relish. "This is your gang, too, little kit. When you chose to wait out the moon, you chose membership."

"I…" But Twist couldn't say anymore. The matter had been brought right out into the open now—the real reasons that she had agreed to stay here. She hated being around other cats, she had been adamant about that, but what was it that kept her here, among all these strangers?

No, she thought. Not strangers.

The Sliders had grown into a kind of close…thing. Not a family, not exactly friends, but it was something. Loyalty. Ties of relation instead of blood: ties that linked each Slider to the other, despite the fact that most couldn't stand the others.

Lightfoot's mouth twisted wryly. "I thought so. Now, can we continue our journey, or shall we—" There was a quick burst of dark fur and Lightfoot went down. She hit the ground with a thud, another cat perched on her back, raking its claws through her fur with a vicious intensity.

River and Beck, still standing close enough to fight, turned at the sound of Lightfoot's furious screech. Open-mouthed, they just stared as the black-and-white she-cat grappled with the dark rogue.

Twist moved forward at the same time Gravel did, but there was no need.

Lightfoot, pinned to the ground by the heavy rogue, swung out sideways with her hindpaw, hitting the rogue right in the gut. His breath whooshed out in a foul gasp, and Lightfoot reached up with a forepaw and grabbed him by the shoulder, sinking her claws right down into his skin. Heaving him down, she threw him to the ground, pouncing on top of him and going for his throat in one terrifyingly smooth motion.

Twist jammed her eyes closed and turned away sharply as the rogue's high shriek of pain filled the air, choking off into a sickening gurgle, and then it was silent.

Lightfoot, leaving the body of her attacker-turned-victim, began to prowl around the path, her jaw stained with the blood of the rogue. "Come on out!" she yowled, fury hot as fire in her voice. "Come on. Who else wants some? I'll give you the same treatment as your friend here!" She whirled back to the body and grabbed it by the scruff, swinging the rogue toward the treeline.

"Lightfoot." Beck didn't sound particularly shocked now. "Stop it."

The white she-cat turned to him, and her raised fur smoothened. She drew herself up, licking a paw to clean her face. "That takes care of that." She nodded at the rogue.

River was frowning, but his tail was trembling, giving away his shock. "There was only one," he said slowly.

Twist looked at the rogue, her stomach roiling. Blood seeped out of the neat, small gash near his throat, just beneath his jaw. She'd killed mice and birds before with a similar technique, but to see it on another cat was nauseating; she felt she might be sick.

"Yes, good thing," Lightfoot said sarcastically.

"I meant," he clarified, "where are the others? Why did they only send one when they could have sent dozens?"

"Maybe he was a sentry." Gravel, who seemed near ready to be ill, had his wide eyes fixed on the rogue.

Flint shook his head, shaking from nose to tail tip. "It couldn't be that. It has to be a trap."

"Why would they sacrifice one of their own for a stupid trap?" River asked disparagingly.

Twist blinked. "Because it's a bigger trap."

The other cats turned to look at her.

Shuffling embarrassedly, she said, "Well, I mean, look at him." She went to him and reached out to gently prod him; he fell to the side with a soft shifting sound that made Twist's fur stand on end. Licking her paw, she brushed it against his fur, then turned back to the others, holding her paw up for their inspection.

Flint leaned so close that Twist could see the darker flecks in his yellow eyes. "It's mud!" he said, stunned.

"Mud!" River looked between Twist's paw and the body as if he couldn't believe it. "For…for what? For hiding?"

"To hide his pelt color." Lightfoot's eyes were very wide. "She's right. It's a trap."

"How could that be a trap?" Gravel shifted from paw to paw nervously, still looking around the trees.

Beck snorted. "It's covering their pelt colors. Maybe they're doing it to hide themselves in the woods."

"Or to sneak up on us," Flint put in. "To hide their scent."

Twist set her paw back down, feeling the grit of the mud scrape her pad. "Or to hide their numbers," she said.

When she'd been in Stripes's gang, they had done it several times to confuse the Tribe. Coat a cat in mud so thickly that even his gangmate couldn't tell him from the next cat, and you could use him to bewilder anyone you wanted.

"What if they've been sending the same cat after the Sliders every time?" she suggested. "What if the rogues only number maybe five or six?"

River stared down at the rogue's body. "That's impossible," he whispered.

"How could it be?" Beck was looking less aggressive and more contemplative now. "Surely we would have noticed that. I mean, we've been fighting with these mongrels for moons!"

"Even if we've noticed this much, what's the point?" Gravel sounded impatient. "We have to keep moving or we'll be caught."

"Too late," growled a voice from behind them.

Twist's heart leapt to her throat as she whirled to face the cat. Her mind filled with Lightfoot's bloody, capable paws, shredding into rogue cats, the shrieks of the victims of the attack, her own pelt sliced through and through by enemy claws, her ears ripped by teeth and claws until all she had was a nub like poor Max.

But the eyes glowing through the gloom weren't the Rogue's. They were Snit's.

River stepped forward at once. "Hello, Snit."

Snit didn't move. "What are you doing out this far, River?" His mismatched eyes slid past River to the others behind him, locking on Twist and narrowing.

River stayed calm. "We're out patrolling, of course. We have to keep up our protection during this kind of days. Especially after Max got—"

"This looks an awful lot like an attacking party."

River's jaw clenched. "It could seem that way," he admitted, swishing his tail idly behind him. "`But I assure you it's not. We'll be on home soon. You go ahead and head back."

"Yes, a patrol." Snit nodded in understanding. "Then I'm sure Lucky won't be upset when I tell him."

Lightfoot let out a soft hiss, so quiet that Twist was sure she was the only one who could hear it.

"This is none of your concern, Snit."

"Oh, but it is. You see, today Twist had duties with me. She was supposed to watch Max after Audrey. When Audrey's shift was up and Twist wasn't there… Well, we were a little surprised." His eyes narrowed farther. "So I tracked you."

River made a quick motion of surprise. "You had no right to—"

"I had every right!" Snit shouted. "What you're doing is putting us all in danger, River! Just because of some half-conceived idea of revenge, you'll be condemning us all to death!"

"You're being overdramatic," Beck said coldly.

Snit shot him a quick look of loathing before turning back to River. "What happens if you go? You'll either be killed or followed back to the Warren. And then what? The only reason we've survived this long is because of Lucky! And this is how you repay him? By going behind his back and against his direct orders to kill some cat who probably doesn't even exist? Max didn't die, River. Flint."

Flint started at the sound of his name, moving away from his position of embarrassed crouching. "What?"

"I know you're trying to make up for your horrible older brother view." Snit sounded anything but sympathetic. "But Max already looks up to you. He doesn't even shut up about you. So if you're trying to pretend you're doing this for his sake, you're kidding yourself."

"Shut up, Snit," River warned.

"No, actually, I won't shut up. Not unless you turn around right now and head home."

"We're on a mission, Snit. I wouldn't expect you to understand it."

Snit laughed then. "Understand it? Revenge? You think I don't understand that? You, of all cats, River?"

What's that supposed to mean? Twist eyed River closely for a reaction but he had none.

"Go home, Snit," he repeated.

Snit growled, lowering his ears. "No."

"I am tired of this." Lightfoot looked keen to kill again, with her fur fluffed up to twice its size and her claws unsheathed. "River, let me handle this."

At her voice, a touch of fear entered Snit's eyes, but to his credit, he didn't show it anymore than that. "I didn't know you unleashed the dog to come with you, River," he snorted. "Although, all you really have to do is send her in the direction of beating hearts these days and let her go to work, don't you?"

Lightfoot yowled furiously. "Don't tempt me, you stupid little rat. I won't hesitate to punish you. If there's any cat to go after the Rogue, it's me. I'm not like you soft-hearted fools: I wouldn't show such a monster pity."

"As if you're one to call another a monster, Lightfoot." Snit's bravado was still holding strong; Twist didn't think she could have done it if their places were reversed.

Drawing her lips back, Lightfoot hissed.

"Enough!" River was trying desperately to regain control before it turned into an all-out brawl. Twist saw him turn to Beck, who had drawn back his teeth at Flint. The younger tabby backed away, ears flat, a growl rising in his throat, and just as quickly, Gravel jumped to his side.

Snit's eyes met Twist's through the clearing. They held an unspoken taunt: I bet you didn't tell Declan where you went.

Fur prickling, she looked away.

But that didn't stop Snit. He crossed the clearing in three sweeping lopes and was by her side. "Are you going to come back with me?" he asked lightly.

"Why would I do that?" she snapped, but her resolve was faltering now. With the death of one of the Rogue's cats, surely he would come after them for equal blood: he knew that Lucky wouldn't.

Behind them, the argument raged on. She could hear Beck's high protests against Gravel, who had stepped forward and was using every bit of his hulking, bristling gray fur to intimidate the younger cat. River was helpless to stop them, Flint was too busy posturing to be of any use to anyone, and Lightfoot was strangely and unnaturally silent. Her tail flicked absently as Twist turned to look at her, her green eyes filled with something that she could only describe as delight.

"Hey," Snit said roughly. "This is your only chance. If this pulls through, who knows what could happen to us? Or to those who are still in the Warren." His mismatched eyes glowed in the darkness, the yellow one seeming even more vibrant than the green; it was an unnerving effect.

Twist hesitated. Then, she said, "I don't know if this is right."

"It's not," Snit assured her.

"But," she continued, a growl edging her tone, "I'm tired of running away from everything. That's how I got to be at the Warren in the first place. I hate fighting, and I hate being fought with, but I can't let someone get away with this."

Snit lowered his head until his eyes were shadowed. "If you choose this, you might die."

"I don't care," she said honestly.

He didn't look surprised. "And when the Rogue sends back his cats to the Warren, Declan might die, too. And Audrey." The way he framed her name was awkward, his voice shook, and he immediately cleared his throat. "You'd risk that for a reckless chance to be a hero?"

Twist opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. Against her will, she felt a prickle of shame run down her spine. This was careless, she realized. Running blind into an enemy nest with no concept of how many there were. Just because she knew about what Stripes's gang used to do didn't mean she could generalize about everything else.

And a heartbeat later, she realized that thought was right.

With no warning, a weight hit her in the back. She fell forward, her chin crashing into the ground, digging a furrow that blossomed with the smell of dark soil. Hissing in pain, she tried to whirl around, but her captor put a heavy, unsheathed paw on the back of her neck, the tips of his claws pricking her skin.

"Don't move," he breathed into her ear, his voice deep and ragged.

She shivered…and obeyed.

More cats had poured into the clearing. From her perspective on the ground, cheek pressed into the rotten leaves on the ground, Twist could see that the rogues weren't just running in—they were leaping from the trees. Dozens of them, all dark-pelted and strong-smelling, and all with claws unsheathed and ready to tear.

Lightfoot let out a sound that was closer to a scream than a shriek—it rose the hair on Twist's spine—and flew into action. Her claws slashed out at those who were brave enough to come near her, a shrieking, out-of control whirlwind of pale fur and dark shadows.

Twist shuddered at the sight—Lightfoot truly was a monster.

It took four of the rogues to hold her down, compared to Twist's measly one, though the weight he put behind her head told her he outweighed her by a considerable amount.

River was just beside her, struggling in the dirt, eyes flashing. He glared hatred up at his rogue. "Who are you?" he rasped.

The rogue cuffed him over the head, the motion giving away the white underbelly he was hiding beneath a cover of mud. "Shut up!" he hissed. "No talking! If you try to run, we will catch you, and we will kill you."

"You can't kill me!" Twist couldn't see her anymore, but Lightfoot's screech was clearly audible. "You can't kill me! I'll kill all of you! Do you hear me? I will kill all of you!"

"Silence her." The voice was dead, flat, emotionless. Twist swiveled her ears to the sound, eyes widening as she saw the cat stride further into the clearing.

"I told you that they weren't to be hurt," he said. "And you will obey my orders."

It was Snit.


Ba baaaaaaaa! That's an alright cliffie, I suppose. XD

I've gotta go to Theories and Practice of Creative Writing now. That sounds fun, but it's just a lecture course. D: Lametastic.

Anyway,

R&R~

Shadow