CHAPTER 11-Let's Find Our Way Together
I always knew when I was dreaming. I always could tell when all the outlines seemed blurry and the horizon was closer than it should be. A backward house. Sidewalk running uphill. Clouds floating in the garden. I didn't dream in colors, either. Everything was always in shades of black and white and the same greys as rainy days. I could almost taste the rain on my tongue just by looking up at the cloudless sky, although in my dreams, it never rained. The grass, the trees, the bushes, everything was shaded in with coal and jet. When I was younger, I used to think it was because that someone had taken a vacuum cleaner and had sucked all the colors away. My dreams always looked like the scenes from old, black-and-white photographs.
The only things that weren't grey, that weren't void of color, were the tulips. Always the tulips. They bobbed up and down on a hill the color of stone, bright and blazing against a whitewashed sky. They flickered as if they were made of fire: red, ruby, scarlet, the color of sunsets and ripe apples.
Why tulips, then? Why were they the only ones that had color? I never knew, and I never cared. I liked tulips anyway. The red in their petals were as warm as the hearth.
I always knew when I was dreaming. It wasn't hard to tell, really. The sun and the moon seemed connected together.
I was a little kid again, probably seven or eight, running along a path in the playground with an armful of blazing tulips. And I knew, right then, that I wasn't dreaming, but remembering.
I had hazelnut curls that tickled the back of my ears and the slope of my neck. Short for my age, shorter than all the other kids. Skinny, too. Matchstick arms. My mother had always complained that I never ate enough.
I recognized this playground. It was the nearest one in my city, the one where I begged my parents to take me to nearly every week. It had a slide and monkey bars. A swing set, but I didn't know how to kick my feet up and lean myself back so that I could fly on it, at least not until later. Wood chips were scattered around on the bottom in place of sand. And everything was grey, naturally. Only the tulips in my arms burned intensely with fire.
And why was I running? I didn't remember the reason. Maybe it was because I was eager to be the first on the slide before everyone else.
I stopped, almost tripping on my two clunky, clumsy feet, and stared blanky, holding the stupid tulips tight to my chest because I was afraid that the wind would tear them away and I'd have to stoop down and pick all of them up all over again.
I stopped because I saw that I wasn't the first one up on the slide. I wasn't the second or the third, either.
There were a group of boys climbing and sliding on top of it. More like tumbling, maybe, like a pack of bear cubs romping and whoofing all over each other. Laughing, having fun together. They were my age, around seven or eight, and I even recognized one or two as the annoying brats in my neighborhood. And I knew that they wouldn't let me even an inch near the slide, much less go down it.
Pouting, I turned to leave, but I suddenly heard one of them shout, "Where ya goin', girly? Aren't you forgetting something?"
Clenching my fists, I shifted back to face him, shout back, maybe even give him a good clout or two on the nose, and realized that he wasn't yelling at me. He was hollering at her. All of them, the whole pack of cubs.
They had her surrounded. Jeering, laughing, teasing, like a flock of high-pitched crows. Pointing too, with messy fingers.
I didn't even know the girl. She was probably new to the city. The boys were yelling rubbish at her, stuff that didn't really mean anything except to give them a good laugh. The words weren't even insults, not really. They were phrases like 'mute-face' and 'big-nose'. Stupid and dumb. If any of them said that to me, I would have ignored him. Or, at least I would've given him a nice punch in the gut and then left.
But I could tell that the girl wasn't taking it very well. She wasn't even doing anything. Just standing there like a statue, staring down at her feet with her hands clenched behind her, as if she were afraid to look any of them in the eye. And all the while the boys kept spitting and hollering. I didn't get why she was just standing there. She had fists, didn't she? Why didn't she hit them? She had feet, too. Why didn't she kick dust at them? And she had a mouth. She could just talk back and say even meaner things. But she didn't. The girl looked like a mouse surrounded by biting snakes. Her hair was covering her eyes so I couldn't see her face, but I could tell, by the barely-noticable trembling of her shoulders, that she was crying.
"Hey!" I yelled, before I even knew what I was doing. Kicking up my heels, I sprinted toward the group, turned my hand into a white-knuckled fist, and made it connect into the first face I saw.
He cried out, more in surprise than in pain, and stumbled a few steps backward, clutching his nose. All of the jeering stopped, as if a blanket of silence had settled over all of them.
I planted my feet firmly in front of the girl, mustering up the scariest face I could make. "Go pick on someone your own size!" I shouted, waving my little fist dangerously. "Leave her alone!"
Edgar, one of my neighbors, stepped forward and stuck out his tongue. "Make me, then! Dummy!"
"Who're you callin' a dummy? Your feet are so big that you can cut the grass just by walking barefoot!"
"Oh, yeah? Well, your ears are so ginormous that you can make Dumbo jealous!"
"If you put your face by a door, nobody would ever come in."
"Your breath smells so bad, even the skunks run away!"
"You're so ugly that if you threw a boomerang, it would never come back!"
"Fatty!"
"Stupid-head!"
"Pignose!"
"Buttface!"
I stopped mid-sentence when I heard something that I least expected to hear.
Someone was giggling, and it wasn't one of the boys.
It was only a slight noise. As quiet as a whisper. But it was the girl. The wind had blown back her hair so that I could see her face for the first time. Her eyes were puffy and red, so she had been crying earlier.
"Hey, you!" I said. "What's up with that? First you're sad, and now you're laughing?"
Trevor, another one of the neighborhood boys I knew, taunted, "Maybe it's because she saw how funny-looking you were! Your face is so hideous that no one came looking for you when you were playing hide-and-seek!"
I sniffed indignantly. "Oi, shut up! That's not true!"
"Prove it then!"
"Wha-? How the heck am I supposed to prove that?"
"See! That just shows that you are ugly!"
"Shut up!"
"Make me!" He threw a light punch on my shoulder, not hard enough to hurt or anything, but enough to push me back a few paces.
I gritted my teeth and fumed, "You wanna go, then?"
"Come at me!"
Stepping forward with as much strength as I could muster, I raised my fist and rammed it into his stomach. His eyes bulged out, and a few seconds later, he was squirming on the ground like a worm, his arms clutching his waist.
"Ow!" he cried. "I didn't know you were serious, lady!"
Everyone else had stepped a few paces back, eyes wide in surprise. I spun around to face them. "What are you staring at, jerks? Go home!"
One of them suddenly turned almost as white as a sheet and gasped, "Tr-Trevor! You're bleeding!"
He was, but it was only a patch on his knee. He must have scraped it when I pummeled him into the ground.
He stood up on shaky legs, his face a deep grey, and screamed, "You're going to pay for this, Sam! I-I mean it!" There was a catch in his voice. Without saying any more, he turned and fled away from the playground, over the hill until I couldn't see him anymore.
I raised my fist and eyed the other kids angrily. "What are you guys waiting around for? Do you want me to give you bloody noses?"
They hesitated, glancing at each other, not sure whether to run away like Trevor or stay and fight. Finally, one of the smaller ones broke down and cried, "Monster! I'm telling your mom!" and turned and ran off with his tail between his legs.
One by one, the rest followed suit.
"Monster!"
"Beast!"
"Crazy girl!"
Pretty soon, I was the only one left in the park along with the girl. I turned to her, my brow knitted in frustration. She was staring expectantly up at me. I didn't realize it before, but she was a bit shorter than me, probably by a few centimeters. But I was sure that we were almost the same age.
She wasn't doing anything, just staring at me with big, brown owl eyes. She wasn't laughing anymore either.
Maybe I scared her? She was probably too terrified of me to run away.
I sighed, my shoulders sagging, my fists unclenching. I was ready for her to burst into tears and run off like the others, but to my surprise, she smiled shyly.
I glared at her. "See, you got me into trouble. They'll go and tell their parents what happened, and then their parents'll tell my parents. I'll be grounded again, maybe for a year this time. See what you did? You big ninny."
Her smile didn't break. She grinned up at me with a smile that was a brighter shade of white.
I sighed again. Maybe she didn't get what I was saying. I held out a hand and looked away. "You're probably new here, so I'll let this slide. Just make sure you don't go near those boys again. You don't know what they'll do next time. So, I'm Sam. Who're you?"
She stared at my hand for a second or two, but didn't shake it. The girl was just standing there as still as a stone. What was she, stupid? I bet that if I just left her right now, she'll still be standing here for the next twenty years.
"Helloo?" I asked, tapping her head with my knuckle. "Anything in there? You can hear me, right?"
She was giggling again. The tapping made a sharp noise against her skull.
I stopped and stood back with an exaspperated look. What should I do? Could I just leave her here and run off?
Suddenly remembering a question that was bothering me, I asked, "How come you didn't do anything when they were picking on you? Don't you know how to throw a punch?" I made my hands into fists again and swiped them into the air, throwing them against an imaginary opponent.
She blinked two times with a blank look.
"Come on, try it. It's easy. If you learn how to do it, then no one'll dare come near you ever again."
When I saw that she wasn't going to try, I reluctantly grasped her limp wrists in mine and tried to curl her fingers into a fist.
"Right! Just like that. Now raise them in front of your face."
She hesitated, lingering on indecision, and finally did what she was told to.
"That's perfect. Now, here comes the hard part. Give me a few jabs. Come on, just do it. Show me what you got."
Nothing happened. Her fists were half-clenched, half-limp in front of her face, hovering there as if she didn't know what to do with them.
Slowly, she lowered them and let them rest by her side, and when she stared up at me again, her dark brown eyes were troubled.
I suddenly grew concerned. "What's wrong? Did they hurt you?"
I inspected her, checked her fingers, her arms, lifting them up and peering into her eyes. "I didn't see them punch you or anything."
The girl shook her head slightly. Oh, so she wasn't dumb then.
"What's the matter?" Honestly, talking to her was like talking to a boulder.
She dug her toes into the dirt, making little smudges. Finally, after a few more minutes of staring down at her feet and twirling her hair shyly with her fingers, she straightened up and pointed at a tree.
I followed her gaze. Half hidden behind the leaves was a kite that I didn't notice before. It was the same color as the tree, dangling half out of sight, its tail tangled into the branches and the string curled into it like a mess of spider webs.
I poked her head sharply with my finger, annoyed. "Seriously, kid, you need to pay more attention. Getting your kite stuck in a tree? Geez, you're lucky that I'm here to help you out." I was seriously pissed off at this weird girl right now. Even between my rantings and seethings, she was still gazing at me with this innocent, shy look in her eyes. She could make the world turn over with that gaze. Finally, heaving my shoulders, I let the annoyance steam out of my ears and stomped over to the tree.
Shielding my eyes from the cold sun, I peered up at the towering heights of the tree. The kite whipped back and forth on its perch like a drowning bird, imprisoned by a single strand of thread wound tight across the branch. With a sharp intake of air, I leaped onto the trunk and wrapped my arms around it, clutching it as tight as I could. Digging my nails into the wood, I clenched my teeth and wriggled my way up, slowly yet surely. I had climbed trees before. This was a piece of cake. It almost felt natural.
I inched my way up, one limb at a time, extending my arms forward to drag my legs up with me. I grazed my fingers over the whorls in the wood, the creases and the cracks in the old weathered face. The ridges and swirls almost felt like the ripples in petrified water.
The stuck kite dangled in front of my face, just a few inches within my grasp. It fluttered a little as I neared, as if it was happy to see me. I reached toward it. Just a little further!
All of a sudden, with a sigh of the troublesome wind, the foot beneath me slipped a few inches downward like a slug. I scrabbled for a firm grasp, panic suddenly lighting inside me like a flame. Don't look down! No matter what happens, just don't look down!
I was beginning to slip. My toes were uncurling. They were sliding down, inch by agonizing inch, like a raindrop oozing down a windowpane. At the last second, I lurched forward and made a wild grab for the kite. My fingers grazed the cloth just barely, and then the tree flew up from underneath me, and suddenly, all I could see was the wide, cloudless sky. The sky was grey too. Its expanse filled the corners of my vision until it was all I could see. My heart pounded wildly in my heart like a drumbeat and I could hear the wild singing of the pulse in my ears, something flitting and sharp waking up in my chest like an alarmed bird opening up its wings for flight.
With a whoosh of air, a short gasp, without even any time to cry out, I landed with a jarring thud on my back that echoed from my spine to my feet and left me crashing in a dazed heap. My thoughts whirled around like crumpled leaves blown by the wind and finally came floating down toward me after a few good seconds. Sitting up, I held my forehead and groaned. There was going to be a nasty swelling behind it tomorrow. I flexed my feet and legs, rubbing my back that still stung from the impact from the fall. The kite still dangled from the tree branch. It peered down at me from the leaves, mocking me. I glared back.
And then I remembered the weird girl. Looking around furiously, I spat, "Hey, you!" I stopped myself, the words half-formed on my tongue, thinking what to call her. I didn't know her name. I'd never asked. And calling her a 'dim-wit' or a 'good-for-nothing' would be too harsh. I'd just make her cry again. As I fumed inside my head, making up insults and names and thinking of what I'd do once I got my hands on her, I blinked and looked up when I heard the whispering of grass slapping against rushing feet.
I opened my mouth, determined to give her a good lashing for all the trouble she'd put me through, but then stopped in surprise. My eyes widened.
She grinned as she held up an armful of red tulips. Rust-colored, carmine, ruby and scarlet, their lightly frayed petals and stems rustled gently in the breeze, fluttering slightly as if they were alive, like wings. They burned as steadily as flame against the grainy black and white background.
My insults were suddenly forgotten. I gently pulled one out of her arms, and without warning, the whole bundle loosened and splashed out onto my lap in a flurry of bright crimson. Their fragrance billowed into the air.
I must have dropped them when I'd confronted the boys.
Gazing up at her, I asked, "You like tulips too?"
"Mm-hmm." Closing her eyes, she smiled and nodded.
"Yeah. I guess that's one thing we both like. And we both hate those idiot boys."
Her smile vanished. Wrinkling up her eyebrows, she quickly shook her head.
I raised an eyebrow. "What? You mean you don't hate them even after what they did to you?"
The kid pointed at me. "S'alright. I forgive them. You saved me."
"Oh. So you can talk after all."
I was about to say something else before she suddenly opened her eyes wide and announced in a small voice, "Thank you!"
I almost turned as red as the tulips. "H-hey," I stammered awkwardly. "You were too weak to save yourself, so of course I had to pitch in. They would've done much worse things if I hadn't."
I picked up the fallen tulips and gathered them into my arms. Their sweet smell wafted into my nose. As we strolled down the hill, side-by-side with me being a little taller than her, she told me that her name was Ashley. Her family had just moved in yesterday.
She wasn't supposed to tell me a whole lot about her life. We had just met, after all, and so we were still just strangers, even if I did know her name. She told me a lot more.
I am seven years old, she said, and she had had her birthday last month in January. Something in my heart began to stir when I realized that we were both the same age. We would both be in the same grade, maybe even in the same class.
But she still didn't feel like a Seven, the girl told me. She still felt like a Six. Sometimes it took a few more months, maybe even half a year, before the Seven began to grow on you and you feel older. Birthdays came in layers.
Like cake? I asked, and she giggled. It made the thing in my heart stir even more, a warm feeling. Like cake, she agreed. The birthdays all had layers like cake. The past years grow old and peel off so that the new ones could take its place, and it could take a long time for that to happen.
The girl's name was Ashley, she was seven years old, her birthday was last month in January, she liked sweet things and tulips, her favorite color was pink, (although she wanted it to be a secret because everyone said that pink was too girly of a color. I disagreed. Colors are like moods, I told her. Sometimes you feel pink, sometimes you feel blue, sometimes red, and sometimes yellow. Sometimes even a mix of everything, like the rainbow.)she liked popsicles (the purple ones best), root beer floats, fairy tales, believed in aliens and Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.
She told me she cried on her birthday (but she wouldn't say why).
As we dangled our feet in the pond in my backyard, she asked me what color I was feeling today. I told her purple with yellow spots. She laughed. The funny feeling in my chest grew warmer and fluttered like a butterfly. We shared the tulips together.
I met her on a Saturday. On Monday, I sat next to her in first grade because she was the only one who didn't know how to spell 'mule' and I had to help her put the letters together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.
She scratched in pictures of blocky-pawed cats in the margins and I crayoned them in: pink for her, and purple with yellow spots for me. We hid in the playground during recess and giggled into our sleeves when the teacher had to come outside to look for us when the bell rang.
I remembered giving my jacket to her on the playground one time because it was windy and she was cold. We shared our lunch together.
Yesterdays, tomorrows, months, then years. It was in fourth grade when we worked together on a homework assignment.
Write a metaphor, the teacher said. About anything. A book you read, or something you feel, or about your life, even.
Ashley scribbled down: Rain makes everything wet and muddy. I like it when it rains, but sometimes my friend splashes into puddles and we both get our socks wet. Here where I live, it rains so much that if I were a cup, I would be filled to the very top and my
Woah there, I told her, to tell her that it wasn't even close to a metaphor, and where did you get all the ideas in your head? But I was also a bit impressed that all of her thoughts could whizz down into her brain as easily as moths to a lamplight.
I told her what a metaphor was because she hadn't been listening in class.
Concentrating intently, she measured the sentences and snipped them with scissors and jot them all down onto the paper with a ruler and a calculator that was her brain.
Rain makes everything muddy. It rains so much in my old city that my clothes were always soaking and my life was filled to the very top with rain.
Shorter, I said. More metaphor-y.
She concentrated hard.
My life is rain.
That's just it, I said, but then she scrunched up her eyes and began erasing everything from top to bottom all over again.
I shouted, Hey, and yanked the eraser from her hand, trying to smooth out the paper as best as I could. What are you doing? I exclaimed. You got it right.
No, it's wrong, she replied, because she had moved to a new place and now her life isn't rain anymore.
I was beginning to get annoyed. We had only spent the past thirty minutes on one assignment, and it was getting dark and I wanted to go out to the park with her again.
If your life isn't rain anymore, I asked her crossly, then what is it now?
Rainbow, she said, and tulips and sand all thrown in, and purple with yellow spots and cats and skirts and nothing but rainbow, rainbow, rainbow.
She said that her old city had not one drop of purple and yellow in it. It was mostly blue and black.
But now, here...
I stared at her in silence, not sure what to say.
She told me that she had cried on her seventh birthday because it was raining with thunder and she was scared and alone. The lightning had swallowed up the electricity so the rooms were as dark as black, and there wasn't any yellow even if she had tried to flick the switches.
I told her that I had cried on my ninth birthday, and I added that it was a secret too.
Why? she asked.
Because. Because I had fists of steel and a shield made out of iron and a dagger in my tongue, but sometimes my metal turns to nothing but jelly and I don't want to be Sam anymore, I want to switch minds and lives with someone else and just walk in an empty desert with no people and be anyone but me.
Sometimes I don't feel like purple with yellow spots, I told her. Sometimes I feel black and blue like rain, like rooms with no light in them and I hide under the bed.
"But Sam," Ashley said, tipping her head to one side. "What's wrong with being Sam? Why do you want to be someone else?"
"You don't know me," I snapped back. "I'm failing in everything. I get Cs and Ds and big fat Fs. My teacher hates me. Mostly everyone does. They don't like me at all. I've been sent to the principal more times than I can count. My parents fight over everything. I'm mad at everything there is to be mad about. I've got monsters under my bed, ghosts in my room. There is a skeleton hiding in the closet and I don't know how to fish him out. Everything is wrong. I can't do anything right. I want to burn my whole closet down to the ground."
Sam, she said, and after a deep breath, I calmed down a little although there was still a riot inside me, and I told her that it was okay, that I could get through it on my own and she didn't need to worry.
She leaned over and hugged me even though I had told her a thousand times that I didn't like hugs. She squeezed me like a teddy bear and the riot in my heart thudded into nothing but a dull beat.
That happened in the fourth grade, around six years ago. The ghosts and skeletons had long fled from my room or simply vanished, but the beast under my bed wouldn't budge. He just loitered there, sometimes staying under my bed, sometimes moving into my closet, and sometimes he stared back at me when I peered at myself in the mirror. The monster looked like me, and I knew that he wasn't leaving anytime soon.
As I grew older, the monster grew bigger too. I tried to ignore him, but how could I when I wore his skin? Not to mention the fact that he kept me awake at night.
And, as I got older, I realized that I didn't just want to burn the closet to the ground. I wanted to burn the bed too, and my room, and possibly even the whole house and maybe the monster too. If Ashley's life was rain, then mine was fire.
Bullies in school always targeted me. 'Monster', they taunted. 'Beast'. But then the cowards just hid behind the principal when I tried to punch the smug grins off their faces.
I looked like a beast too. Gangly limbs. Spidery brown hair. I kept my crazy locked up tight in my closet, in the rug, but it threatened to overflow. I tried to starve the monster in my room, but it only grew bigger. It moved from my closet to the windowsill.
And when it happened in my first year in high school, the beast gurgled and danced and sang a bloodcurdling song. I wanted to give up then, maybe feed myself to the beast.
But Ashley stood by me through all the years. She never left me. I was outgoing and managed to win over a group of people, but Ashley was still the real friend that I still had. She still gave me hugs. She still liked the color pink, and she still believed in aliens and Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.
Me, not so much. But the tulips were still red.
Pity, now that I remembered, I never did thank her for everything she'd done. But, at least, I had left my crazy behind in my house, locked up tight in the closet. I hope that by coming here to the Clans, that by finally living my dream in the wild and leaving my past behind, I can forget about everything and become a different person like I'd wanted to.
I hope Ashley doesn't think that I'm dead or anything. But I hope that she misses me.
Because I miss her the most of all.
OooOOOoOoOooOoOOoOoOoOoooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
"Stormpaw, wake up." A sharp paw was prodding me in the ribs. It tickled.
I rolled over, my eyes still closed, and swatted my claw at him. "G'away," I mumbled. "Sleep."
The dusty smell of warm moss was too enticing to let go. I didn't want to be dragged out of bed just yet.
Scorchpaw gave an exaggerated sigh. I could imagine the ginger and white tom pawing at his nose in frustration.
Finally, he called, "Silverpaw, come over here! Use your warm and kind way of waking her up, since she won't listen to me anyway."
"Okay!"
I heard the scrabbling of eager paws over moss and a surge of air, and before I knew it, I was on my back with my eyes wide open, my legs haphazardly sprawled out in every direction.
A very excited light grey tabby was bouncing on my stomach. Her blue eyes filled my vision as she leaned in closely.
"Rise and shine, fuzzbrain! No time to be lazy today," she chirped brightly. "We're getting training from Bramblestar himself. He says that we need to be extra-extra ready in case we have to fight WindClan."
"Don't remind me," I groaned. The training that Dewstep had given me the day before had left me with aches and pains in my muscles. And Silverpaw wasn't making it any better by yelling in my ear and jumping up and down on my stomach like a rubber ball.
"Oof! Get off! Off!" I shouted as I shoved her away. She rolled onto the moss with a laugh.
I grinned. "Seriously, though, you're as heavy as an elephant. How many mice do you eat every morning?"
She sat up and blinked. "What's an...elphan?"
I waved her away. "It's nothing. Just get going already, we don't want to be late."
"That's what I was going to say to you!"
"Enough," Scorchpaw grunted. He narrowed his eyes when he peered at me, the irises turning from verdant to a smoky green in an instant. He huffed and eyed me in a way that made me feel as if I was inferior somehow.
The tom meowed crossly in exasperation, "Stormpaw, your fur is sticking up all over the place," in a tone that reminded me of someone scolding an immature kit. "Honestly, when was the last time you've groomed yourself?"
I shrugged. "Sorry." I never bothered with it.
He stared at me for a few more moments before leaning in and rasping his tongue over a tuft sticking out on my ear.
"Hey!" I protested, but was silenced when he growled, "Stay still. What'll Bramblestar think when he sees you looking like you tumbled off a hill?"
"Wolfpaw's already waiting for us outside," Silverpaw chimed in.
I crinkled my nose as Scorchpaw groomed me. "But where's Featherpaw?" I asked. Her nest was empty, and her scent was stale.
She shrugged. "No idea. She wanders off every now and then. How much longer are you going to take, Scorchpaw? Come on, lets go!"
"Alright, alright," he mewed, flicking his tail across my nose when he couldn't get a piece of my fur to lay down just right, and then the three of us trotted outside the den with Silverpaw bounding in the lead.
I did notice that it was a warm, sunny day despite the oncoming winter. The sun melted onto the boulders in butter, and I could almost taste it as it dripped down in yellow and gold. Even the ground seemed to glow with a hidden warmth deep underneath the sparse grass.
The trees were all bare now, their branches woven tight above their heads in crowns, some so thin that they seemed like fingers reaching up to grasp the sky. A few skeletal leaves still hung on the twigs, rugged and beaten up by the harsh wind.
Wolfpaw was waiting in the clearing with her head down and her tail tucked neatly around her paws. She glanced up as we neared, then acknowledged us with a nod.
I asked, "Have you seen Featherpaw?" I swear, that apprentice made me worry a lot. Sometimes I even go days without seeing her around. The rumors of war probably made her antsy.
She shook her head.
"Are you apprentices ready now?" Bramblestar's deep rumble of a voice snapped me out of my thoughts as he padded toward us. His smooth muscles rippled under his dark brown pelt. Although he was strong enough to chase badgers off of his territory, the muscles made him look sleeker instead of bulky, with enough in his shoulders to broaden his chest. The darker stripes running down his back reminded me of a tiger's.
Really, when we had such a strong leader as him on our side, what was there to worry about? We'd win either way. Those scrawny WindClan cats wouldn't last a chance with us.
He nodded, then crouched down, his movements smooth. "Right, Wolfpaw," he mewed. "Forepaw slash, paws sheathed. Show me what your mentor taught you."
The she-cat hunched down until her belly brushed the ground. She wasn't nearly as big as Bramblestar, but the muscles hidden beneath her blue-grey fur still boasted strength that almost matched his. The white slash on her chest looked like a curved claw.
I held my breath as she held her position. Her blue eyes had instantly become calculating, glittering like two hardened blue sheaths of ice.
Without warning, she darted forward as an arrow and lashed out with her front paw. She had instantly transformed into an adder, her paw as the head poised to strike, no, striking already with speed that matched a blue lightning bolt, gleaming so fast that my eyes could barely keep up with the blur. Wolfpaw's moves were amazing! Her paw was dancing in the air with a war tune.
But, no matter how fast she moved, Bramblestar was faster. He was always one step ahead of her.
She aimed for his face, but he shifted quickly to one side. Blocking her strike, he grabbed hold of her paw and crushed it to the ground, holding it in place before leaning over and grasping her scruff in his teeth.
The whole thing had only taken a few seconds. He could easily wrench her scruff to flip her over onto her back, exposing her vulnerable belly. Instead, the dark brown tom loosened his grasp and nodded.
"You did well, Wolfpaw," he rumbled, satisfied. "Your movements were quick and precise. I can see that you've learned well." Wolfpaw nodded, her expression level.
"But," he continued, "I managed to gain the upper hand. If I was the enemy, I would have snapped your neck instead of holding your scruff. Just remember, if that ever happens in a real battle, go limp for a few seconds. That'll trick him into thinking that you've given up. Then, when he's distracted, wrench yourself swiftly out of his grip in one movement."
The blue-grey she-cat dipped her head in understanding and then retreated back to where we were watching.
"You were amazing, Wolfpaw!" Silverpaw beamed happily. "You were so quick!"
I nodded in agreement. "How are you so strong?" I asked.
Scorchpaw mewed, "She's the oldest one among all of the apprentices, so naturally she's tougher and more mature. And-"
There was a quiet scuffling of paw steps that grew closer with every second.
"Featherpaw!" I exclaimed in surprise.
The white she-cat padded forward silently. I couldn't tell where she had been. She looked the same as always. Acknowledging me with a small wave of her tail, she settled down beside me. Scorchpaw scooted over to give her more room.
Without pausing, Bramblestar beckoned with his tail. "You're up, Scorchpaw. Show me everything you've learned."
Scorchpaw, too, was a formidable attacker. When he bared his teeth and snarled, I could barely recognize him. He became as ferocious as a badger when he swung his paws around to meet his opponent, even managing to make Bramblestar back away and corner him against a wall.
How were they all so strong? There was no way I could even compare to them! If Scorchpaw was a wolf, then I was no more than a mouse.
"My turn!" Silverpaw announced as she bounced eagerly up to face Bramblestar.
I leaned over to Featherpaw and whispered, "Where were you this morning? Did Ivypool pen you up again?"
Her laurel eyes were impassive. She shrugged her shoulders,an answer that didn't mean anything.
I thought I could detect a faint whiff of leaf mold on her. Had she been hanging out in the woods?
"Stormpaw!" Bramblestar meowed. I sighed and dragged my limp paws over to meet him.
I started out well, sliding underneath his belly and yanking his tail to unbalance him, but then he pounded me completely into the dust for the second half of the round.
I heaved myself to my paws, panting, grimacing at the grainy feel of sand buried in my pelt and sneezing from the dust.
"Not too bad," Bramblestar mused.
Yeah, and by 'not too bad', he actually meant 'wow, you really sucked'. I was small fry compared to the others.
As the leader began his next lecture, I suddenly interrupted, "Wait a minute. Featherpaw didn't have a chance to go yet."
Bramblestar broke off and gazed at me with a peculiar expression on his face.
Scorchpaw coughed awkwardly while Wolfpaw glanced away. Featherpaw just stared at me with her tail around her paws. She bored holes into the back of my skull.
Silverpaw piped up,"Oh, yeah, you're still a bit new here so no one told you. Briarlight said that we shouldn't make Featherpaw practice too hard. It'll strain her body."
I flattened my ears. "Please don't tell me that this has something to do with her throat."
Scorchpaw said, "Not really, but you know, the medicine cat said that she can't push her body too hard. There was something that went wrong with her body when she was born, so she can't talk, and that means that the rest of her body is frail too, and..." He was rambling now.
It was because, I realized, they were all afraid for Featherpaw's safety. Featherpaw didn't have long to live. Her body wasn't strong enough. I could imagine Ivypool flinging up her paws dramatically and wailing something about Featherpaw keeling over in the middle of training or something like that.
But Featherpaw didn't look weak at all. In fact, she looked perfectly healthy, save for the fact that she couldn't talk.
Bramblestar cleared his throat and asked politely, "Featherpaw, if you feel like you're up to it, then maybe we could practice a few moves together."
I could imagine him thinking, Great StarClan, please don't let her suddenly collpase from fatigue! Maybe I should bring one of the medicine cats over to supervise the session?
I made eye contact with Featherpaw, and instantly, knew that she was thinking the same thing as me. She rolled her eyes at Bramblestar and sighed.
Luckily, we didn't dwell too much on the subject.
Silverpaw abruptly perked up and asked, "Bramblestar, how come we have to train so hard now everyday? Every cat is really worried over WindClan's threat. But we didn't kill anyone. And aren't all the warriors strong enough to defend the camp?"
"Yeah," I added. "I don't see why everyone is making such a big deal over it."
The leader's gaze suddenly darkened, as if a shadow had swallowed up the sun.
"We train," he meowed,"because it is our duty to protect the Clan. The queens, kits, and elders all need us. I know the WindClan cats are gangly and thin, and they certainly don't look like they have any strength in them, but that's where you're wrong. Looks are decieving. They are tough, tougher than you can imagine. We mustn't underestimate them or call down our guard." He raised his head to stare up at the sky. It was a pale blue, a lighter grey gradient coming up from the horizon, dotted with spottless white clouds. His gaze hardened. "Death and grief can do a lot to motivate one's soul. WindClan has a reason to fight; they think that we slaughtered one of their queens. Once they've found a reason, they won't back down."
"But we're plenty strong!" Silverpaw protested. She puffed out her chest. "ThunderClan has the best warriors!"
"It takes more than strength to make a true warrior," Bramblestar said as he gazed down at her fondly. "You'll understand when you're older."
Of course strength isn't everything, I thought. That much was obvious. Strength was meaningless if you didn't have courage.
Startled, I leaped out of my skin when someone bellowed, "Bramblestar!"
Squirrelflight came surging down the slope in a flash of fire.
Instantly, Bramblestar's voice became tight. "What is it?" he demanded.
What was happening? Squirrelflight looked as if she had traveled the whole length of the forest and back.
The deputy announced, "Our border patrol found two WindClan warriors on our territory."
My eyes widened. I could feel the alarm sparking through all of our pelts.
She paused to gather up her breath, and then continued, "No, don't look too surprised. It's nothing serious. They're just apprentices: Slightpaw and Oatpaw. But we still have to act quick. They told the patrol that someone had been chasing them across the moor, which was how they ended up on our territory. Do you think..." Her voice trialed off, but we could all guess the same thing.
The murderer was on the move again.
"But in the daylight?" Scorchpaw's tone was unusually unsteady. "And so close to our camp? The killer, I mean. What if he's making his way here right as we speak?"
My heart quickened its pace. Was he coming over here to kill us all?
Bramblestar had remained silent, deep in thought, but when he glanced up again, his face was grim. "No," he mewed, and his voice was dangerous. "The killer was targeting the two apprentices. He wouldn't have a reason to come to ThunderClan in the first place if he was only after the WindClan cats. Squirrelflight, where are Slightpaw and Oatpaw right now?"
The deputy's head snapped up, and she answered without hesitation, "In a ravine next to the old thunderpath. The border patrol is herding them back to their own territory as we speak."
"Great StarClan! That close?"
He straightened up and meowed in a hurried tone, "I'll go out there and deal with it myself. Squirrelflight, you take care of the camp until I get back."
"You're going by yourself?" I cried in dismay. "You can't fight him on your own!"
With cold ice stretching down my spine, I remembered the red slash glittering on Moleclaw's neck like a twisted crescent moon. Whoever the murderer was, he-or she-had been vicious enough to tear the life out of two cats with only a single slash.
He replied grimly, "I'll be taking half of the warriors with me. Whoever he is, he certainly shouldn't be underestimated. And besides, I made it my duty to face him."
He prowled forward, his amber eyes flickering dangerously. They darkened into shadows. His voice had grown deeper as well, rumbling like thunder in its wake. "I have to face him, once and for all," he growled again. "So that Moleclaw can rest in peace."
He turned to Squirrelflight. "Watch the camp for me," he meowed, and just like that, he was gone. We gazed on after him as he sped away from the clearing, his paws heaving up fallen leaves after him. They fluttered dryly and lifelessly down in wide spirals.
Silverpaw crouched behind Wolfpaw. "Will he be safe?" she whimpered. Wolfpaw leaned down to touch noses with her.
Bramblestar disappeared out of the gorse tunnel. After a few more heartbeats, Squirrelflight turned to us and meowed, "Don't worry about him. He knows how to take care of himself. And besides, he's got his warriors with him." She paused, and then continued, "Wolfpaw and Silverpaw, go and guard the entrance. Tell Icecloud to accompany you." In an instant, her panicked look from before was replaced with an air of authority that only a deputy could possess. "Dovewing and Toadstep are already beginning the task of reinforcing the thorn barrier, so Scorchpaw will help them." Scorchpaw nodded firmly and raced off to fulfill his duty.
"Stormpaw and Featherpaw, you two will tend to the elders. Change their bedding and make sure that they won't go hungry."
I immediatley protested, "But that's not fair!"
Squirrelflight raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"Everyone else gets to help out in preparing for the battle. How come Featherpaw and I have to take care of the elders?"
"I don't have time for your nonsense," Squirrelflight held a warning in her tone. Her green eyes hardened into emeralds. "Seeing to the elders is as important as anything else. Now go! I have important things to do as well." Without another word, she spun around and bounded over to the cliffs.
I sighed irritably, my tail lashing to and fro. Turning away with a huff, I meowed, "Come on, Featherpaw." The she-cat's ears quickly perked up, and there was almost a glimmer of eagerness in her eyes. We made our way over to the elders' den, a damp, cool space underneath a clump of trailing nettles that promised shade in the summer and collected heat in the colder months.
We pushed our way past the screen of nettles and paused at the entrance. The little light that filtered through brightened the corners of the den, but everything else was draped in shadow. Frostfire's white pelt stood out brightly against the darkness. Her fur glittered like snow, almost seeming like it glowed. Purdy was curled up further away from her, and by his snores, I could tell that he was fast asleep. His coat, thick now for the oncoming leaf-bare, was as matted and tangled as ever, like coils of rope wound around and around into a bundle of course hairs.
Frostfire sneezed and opened a slit of her eye to watch us.
"What do you two want now?" she asked. Normally she was cross and short-tempered, never bothering herself with the younger cats, but today, she was in kind of a good mood. At least she wasn't snapping at us like she usually did.
I spoke up, since Featherpaw couldn't. "Squirrelflight sent us over to do some stuff for you. Do you need anything or what?"
"Watch your manners, youngster," came the quick reply, although her tone wasn't as sharp as usual. "Show more respect toward your elders."
I shrugged again. "Well, if you don't need anything..."
I halted when Frostfire mewed, "Yes, I actually do want you to tell me something. Onestar had declared war on us, hasn't he? Tell me that my ears weren't playing tricks on me."
I replied, "Yeah. Over a dead queen."
She flicked her ear with a bored expression. "Ah, yes. I remember now. That skirmish a few weeks ago. WindClan hasn't quieted down yet, have they? Squirrelflight had raced into the camp as if her tail was on fire just a few minutes ago."
Was this her attempt at striking a conversation? Well, I wasn't interested. I shifted my weight from one paw to the other awkwardly.
Featherpaw glared at me and rested her tail tip on my shoulder. I could tell, just by her green gaze, what she was thinking: Stop. Show more respect.
"You don't look very concerned, Stormpaw," Frostfire continued. "Does this battle mean so very little to you?"
I shrugged. "I'm not really worried," I admitted. "Aren't the warriors strong enough to fend off WindClan? I know that ThunderClan will win just like always." I remembered the training from before, with Wolfpaw swinging her claws as if they were adders and Scorchpaw fighting as if there was a lion inside him. Not to mention how amazingly tough Bramblestar was.
The elder grinned, revealing her cracked, yellow teeth. Some of them were missing. "Aye, I can see that you've at least got pride for your Clan. I admire that in a youngster. But, you see, even if ThunderClan will win, I wonder what we will lose in the process?"
I stopped and blinked. "Lose?"
"Aye. Our dignity. Lives, even."
I snorted. "Those scrawny WindClan kits don't stand a chance against us."
"Battles are strange things, in more ways than one. Even if you win, you still lose in some way. I pray to StarClan that this one will be quick and painless." She straightened up. "But I'm trying to tell you something. I know you haven't been here for very long, and you're still training to become a warrior. But you should never take any war lightly. You don't know what it feels like to be on a battlefield. What it feels like to see everything unfold before you. I hope that you will soon learn what it's like to truly fight for what you believe in."
I furrowed my brow. "What are you trying to say?"
"Just teachin' you not to underestimate anything. Even the smallest bird can have the sharpest beak in the flock. WindClan might not look it, but they've got rain in their bones and bark in their bodies. Take care not to hurt yourself."
I flicked my tail. "Yeah, okay. Is that all you wanted to tell me?"
"Aye." She tucked her paws underneath her, her eyelids already drooping as she settled down for another nap.
"And one more thing," she murmured sleepily, as Featherpaw and I were beginning to leave. I turned to glance back at her.
The elder yawned, "You don't have any idea how grateful and lucky you should be. You were a loner before, right? Something must have driven you from the Twolegplace to come here to the forest. Lucky, it was ThunderClan who found you instead of a wild rogue or a fox. Be grateful for these events, Stormpaw. I know how difficult life is for loners. I was one myself."
I tipped my head to one side, suddenly curious. "I know that. Purdy told me that a patrol had found you one night. You were half-starved. What happened?"
Without opening her eyes again, the elder muttered simply, "My family was killed by a group of Twolegplace cats. I was the only survivor. I ran away from the Place and found myself here."
"Oh." I suddently felt very awkward. "Um, sorry about that."
"Just leave now." Her cutting tone was back again. Without another word, Featherpaw and I pushed our way through the nettle screen and padded outside into the sunlight.
I shivered slightly from the cold. "Wow. Do all loners have it that tough?"
Featherpaw nodded.
Thinking for a minute, I meowed, "Oh, yeah. Silverpaw, Wolfpaw, and Scorchpaw were all loners before they came to ThunderClan, right? I wonder what happened to them." I gazed at her curiously. "Have they told you?"
She shook her head.
I wanted to know. What had happened to their families?
I paused and blinked when I felt Featherpaw's tail brush my shoulder. She stared at me intently, not quite a glare, but not a soft look either. Her green eyes were turning as murky as the bottom of a riverbed, and sharper than a stone-point arrow.
She signed with her tail, but she didn't need too. Just by peering at her face, I could tell what she wanted to say.
I grinned. "You're nervous then, huh? Don't worry, Featherpaw. We'll send WindClan scattering like rabbits. We'll show them not to mess with us!"
I sheathed and unsheathed my claws, digging them deep into the earth.
OoOooooooooooooooooOOOooOOooooooooOO
The wind from the moor was blowing toward the edge of ThunderClan, bringing with it the scent of heather and sparse, yellow grass that bit the horizon.
Ember and Dewstep sat side-by-side on the hill overlooking the river. The breeze buffeted their fur.
"Shouldn't you be preparing for the battle?" Ember asked. "Your Clanmates need you."
"Yeah, I guess." He grunted as he heaved himself carefully to his paws. Ember steadied him with his tail.
"Are your scars still bothering you?" she asked quietly.
He shook his head briskly. "No. I'm just stiff all over." He turned and waved his tail, watching the endlessly waving sea of meadow grass flowing before him. Then, without another word, he turned and dashed away into the depths of the forest, until his grey pelt disappeared and blended in among the shadows and ferns.
Ember stared after him long after he had gone.
Oh, Dewstep, she thought. When she left, she took a part of you with her.
Shaking her head, she made her way down the rocky cliffs, hopping nimbly down from rock to rock, as light as if she were a feather.
She stopped to gaze at her surroundings. Where do I go now?
It didn't seem like she belonged in this forest anymore. Fang and Scarlet were dead. Her pack had disbanded and had scattered to the ends of the world. So why was she the one who was still here? What purpose did she serve?
She couldn't go back to the tunnels. It reminded her too much of her past. Stale blood still caked the walls.
No, she thought. There was an abandoned badger set somewhere farther away, somewhere up north. She remembered seeing it once. It would be cluttered with dead leaves and rotten filth, but if she cleared it out, it just might make a good home.
Better than this, at least, she thought.
The young fox stiffened suddenly. The air had abruptly shifted and dropped a few degrees lower. There was a hint of a warning tone in it, a subtle touch of something that shouldn't be there, of something dark and haunting and unnatural. Her hackles rose menacingly and she bared her teeth into a wicked snarl.
Something was happening, something that made her feel uncertain. Was it the Clans? Her instinct immediatley made her gaze off toward that direction. Her snarl didn't break.
Without any warning, the wind turned wild. It grew from a gale to a whirlwind, a blast of ice that almost knocked her off the ground. It blasted through the trees and rocked the branches as if a giant had suddenly gulped down a cyclone and was now letting it loose through the entire world. The roots of the trees creaked and groaned. The biting whisk of wind whistled, rushed by faster and faster, flinging up dust and making her fur and the grass dance wildly in its wake, and then, as mysteriously as it came, the great whirlwind retreated back and turned into puffs of steam that melted and disappeared into the air.
What was that? Ember didn't have time to think.
A low, warning growl escaped from her throat as the long grass parted to reveal a group of warriors stalking toward her.
WindClan. Her heart gave a jump when their unmistakeable scent wafted toward her.
And they were far from friendly. Their glares cut like razors. Their already unsheathed claws glinted coldly, and their growls combined were almost enough to deafen her.
They're angry, the fox realized with a start. No, furious.
She counted fifteen in all. And Clan cats, she knew, were not to be taken lightly.
They circled her, stalking her in a ring. Each one of them bore hatred in glares that were almost enough to make an adder shrink back.
Ember gritted her teeth in frustration. Although she was a fox, she couldn't fight all of them off on her own.
Up until now, they had watched and swooped in as silently as owls. A tom broke off to lift his head up and test the air.
"This must be Ember." His voice held a deadly poison. "She's ThunderClan's ally, and a tough one too. If we can get rid of her, then we'll also be getting rid of one of their strongest forces." He motioned to the others with his tail, and as one, the WindClan cats prowled closer and closer toward their target.
Ember's eyes widened in disbelief. WindClan's warriors were already beginning the battle!
Right now? she thought. There's only fifteen of them here. The rest must already be heading toward the camp. She clenched her teeth, her heart beating alarmingly fast.
I have to warn Dewstep!
"She's trying to escape!"
"Don't let her!"
Instantly, cats were barring her way, snarling and growling. They had her surrounded on all sides.
The growl that broke free from the fox's throat sounded for all the world like writhing thunder. For a second, fear flashed in the cats' faces.
Ember took a step forward, surveying each of the warriors. "You want to fight me?" she rumbled. Her eyes hardened. "Then don't think that I'll go easy on you!"
The cats charged as one, without hesitating. The fox snapped her jaws, strong enough to shatter bone, and unleashed all of her fury.
She barked and growled, darted and weaved her way through the leaping bodies of warriors, intent on defeating them, intent on going back to warn Dewstep.
"You fight well, foxheart," one of the cats spat. "But we won't let you win!"
Her only reply was a vicious snarl.
They jumped and twisted onto her back, slicing into her with their claws, tugging at her mane with their teeth. Ember's howl was a mix of pain and anger.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across the moor. The cats and fox continued to fight and struggle, oblivious to the new pair of eyes that were watching them.
But Ember suddenly knew. She broke off abruptly with a squealing cat pinned under one paw and gazed off in the direction of the forest. A dark shape was flitting nimbly through the trees. The sight made her heart swell with a feeling that she hadn't known in a long time.
Go, then! she thought eagerly. Go save ThunderClan!
OOoOoOoOooooooooooooooooooOoooOoOooooOOooO
Stormpaw's POV
"More WindClan warriors are coming!"
"Guard the entrance!"
"Help the elders escape!"
"Hurry! Do whatever you can!"
The yowls of my Clanmates were almost drowned out by the fury of the WindClan intruders. They hurled themselves through the gorse tunnel, clawed their way past the brambles, eyes full of malice and teeth bared to sink into flesh.
It was a scene of chaos. I ducked and rolled, trying not to crash into anyone, trying not to get involved in anything. My pulse raced in my ears, faster and faster and faster all the while. I yelped as someone lunged at me, parting his jaws to roar loudly, only to be intercepted by Leafpool. They writhed together on the ground, claws flashing in the sun, red mingling with the color of their pelts.
I urged my feet to carry me away. They had turned into jelly, as weak as a newborn kit's. I wanted to run, to escape and tear myself away from this hectic, bloody riot of claws slashing on claws. I wanted to be whirled a million miles away from here, just anywhere from here. Maybe even to the cosmos and beyond.
My ears rang with the screams and hisses of furious cats. I saw flashing white teeth, sharp as needles. Eyes, some wide with fear, others narrowed with fury and spite. Claws pounding into explosed flesh, red and scarlet where it shouldn't be.
The worst thing was the blood. It covered the ground. It splashed onto the dens like paint. The bitter, vile stench wafted from the ground and almost suffocated me as if someone had slapped a cloth around my lungs. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to breathe, didn't want to smell the salty tang as life drained out in scarlet water.
My Clanmates fought like lions. The WindClan warriors were tigers. They surged forward in a wave of moving fur, countless claws and deafening howls of anger that split the sky in two like a crackle of electricity.
A WindClan cat reared up in front of me. Half of his face was dripping with the vile blood, but his eyes still blazed ferociously. He locked eyes with mine and made his way forward, jaws parted, panting. There was a wild look in his gaze that made me fluff out my fur and back away.
My eyes widened. He raised his paw. I could imagine it coming down like a hammer to crush me, break me...I was too terrified to even cry for help.
"Keep your claws off my apprentice!"
Dewstep screeched furiously and spiraled onto the warrior's broad back, digging his claws in to make him spit with pain. Dewstep drove him back, strike by strike, finally snapping his teeth into the enemy's arm so deep as to nick against bone. The WindClan warrior shrieked shrilly with pain, tugged free from the iron grip, and scrambled off to disappear among the moving scene of battling cats.
Dewstep whirled around to face me. A stream of blood was trickling steadily down his lip, and a torrent of blood was gushing so much down his muzzle that it was a miracle that he could still see.
His amber eyes, which I had known for so long, were now unrecognizable. My heart gave a leap. His eyes had a half-crazed look to them. Didn't he know who I was? Was he going to fight me too?
He straightened up and spat, "What are you doing, just standing there? Don't you have something to protect?" He was cut off with a gurgling cry when another enemy slammed into his side.
"Dewstep!" I cried. But I stiffened when I saw something thrashing on the edge of my vision.
Gorsetail had a squirming Featherpaw pinned down in his grasp. Her speckled white flank was marred with scratches, and she was trying as hard as she could to throw off her attacker. Her face was strained. Her jaws were parted into a silent snarl.
Ivypool came charging through the crowd like an enraged bull.
"Don't you dare touch her!" she screeched. Gorsetail's eyes widened as the grey-and-white she-cat came streaking toward him, surprised enough to loosen his grasp on Featherpaw for a split second. But it was enough.
She wiggled like an eel out of his hold and danced just out of his reach.
Ivypool's angry cry was cut off abruptly as two WindClan cats ran swiftly to meet her.
I yelled, "Featherpaw!"
Relieved that she was safe, I eyed her bleeding wounds. They were just thin claw marks, curved like crescent moons. She stared at me, her jaws parted to draw in air. Her sides were heaving, obviously from fear. Her green eyes were round and startled. I wondered if I looked that way too.
Gorsetail roared and came crashing down on us with outstretched paws. With a strangled cry of alarm, I dove away just in time with Featherpaw by my side.
His claws were strong enough to leave large gorge marks in the ground. My breath caught in my throat when I realized that we were lucky enough to escape it. Those marks could have been on our pelts.
But Gorsetail was far from finished. He hissed again, his eyes two red balls of fire, and lunged toward us. His jaws parted, revealing a row of snake teeth.
I ducked just in time for him to graze my ear, nicking it and just barely breaking the skin.
In an instant, Featherpaw and I locked eyes with each other. Hers were a verdant green, smoky around the edges and fading to a pale mint in the center. Determind. Hardened. Suddenly fiery with the passion of battle.
I nodded. You didn't need words to tell what others were feeling.
We landed nimbly on our paws, the two of us, and together, we surged forward as one.
Remember your training! I told myself. I have to remember everything that Dewstep taught me!
For a fleeting moment, her tail stroked against my side in a soft touch. In that instant, I knew. She had taught me the signs. The hidden language which only she knew. It was like a human's sign language, although she was using her tail instead of her hand.
I'm going for his right side! she told me. You take the left! There hadn't been any more time to say anything else.
I unsheathed my claws and darted forward. I saw Gorsetail's look of unconcealed surprise as I raked them across his ribs, grating them against coarse bone and muscle. A red flower bursted forth and splashed onto the ground. He howled in pain, turning to and fro, trying to find us.
But we were too fast for him. It was two against one, and he didn't stand a chance. Taking turns, Featherpaw and I each flew forward to nip him or scratch him or yank at his tail to unbalance him.
He opened his mouth to snap, only to bite at empty air. He lunged his claws in front of him, but each time, he was a second too late and only clawed at the breeze.
I leaped forward and aimed for his forehead, running my claws above his face to leave a long, jagged scar. He reared back and shrieked a bloodcurdling scream. Blood welled up from the wound and flowed onto his eyes, blinding him.
"Now!" I yelled.
Featherpaw and I scampered away, leaving our opponent writhing behind us. We tripped over our own paws in our hasty attempt in running. I almost lost my balance while slipping on a pool of sticky blood. WindClan cats targeted and chased us on every side, only to be intercepted by our own Clanmates.
We dove behind the elders' den. My sides were heaving. My heart was beating so fast that it sounded like a flickering inside my chest.
When I looked down at my paws, I almost gave a shout of surprise to see that they were completely soaked in red.
But then I remembered that it was only the blood from Gorsetail, and from the puddle that I had slipped on.
Featherpaw was banged up pretty badly. There was a nick from her ear that wouldn't stop bleeding, and numerous scratches oozed from her sides. Her white pelt, dappled with pale grey, now looked as scarlet as my paws.
I leaned forward to clean her up as best as I could, but she ducked and shook her head quickly. I guess it reminded her too much of how Ivypool was always fussing over her.
All around us, cats were screeching and attacking each other, rolling on the ground, flailing their claws.
So this was what a battle was! Despite myself, I felt a thrill of excitement.
"Nice work, Featherpaw!" I mewed. "We fought Gorsetail all on our own."
She nodded, almost giving a slight smile.
But then her expression quickly turned into a look of horror, extinguishing the thrill I felt inside.
I spun around to follow her gaze. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. My spine turned into ice.
Onestar was perched on the Highledge, now bloodstained and battered. His amber eyes were glowing with nothing less than hatred.
He was perched on the Highledge, on Bramblestar's post. It was an insult to the ThunderClan leader! But the thing that made my blood run cold, the thing that mattered the most right now, was that he had Silverpaw pinned down with one paw.
"What is he doing?" I screeched desperatley. He couldn't hear me, not with the sound of fighting cats and screeching. Next to me, I could feel Featherpaw quivering with disbelief.
Onestar yowled loudly with triumph, holding down the struggling apprentice.
"Silence, kit!" he hissed, but it only made Silverpaw thrash harder.
"Let me go!" she squealed, her blue eyes defiant. "Or I'll rip off your fur and feed you to the buzzards!"
She cried out sharply when Onestar landed a blow on the side of her head. "Be quiet!"
Anger filled my vision, numbing the pain. "Hey!" I snapped. "Don't do that!"
My voice sounded like a mosquito's humming compared to the screams and shrieks of the battle.
Onestar looked like a victorious king perched on his throne, the Highledge. He stared down at Silverpaw, then down at the crowd of cats.
Bramblestar yowled, "Onestar! What in the name of StarClan are you planning to do?"
A surge of ThunderClan cats started to make their way toward the Highledge, only to be blocked by a barricade of opponents.
Onestar rumbled, "This battle was fought to avenge Sedgewhisker's death! She was a noble and respectful cat. She had absolutely no reason to die!"
The WindClan cats shouted their approval.
Squirrelflight broke away from her fight and protested, "But we didn't murder anyone! We're innocent!"
The WindClan cats let out a torrent of insults.
"Liars!"
"Good-for-nothing murderers!"
"Fox-hearted demons!"
Bramblestar tried to make himself heard above the rioting of the WindClan warriors. "Believe me, Onestar!" His voice was desperate now, almost like a plea. "We bore no grudge against Sedgewhisker! We-"
"Be quiet!" Onestar snapped. "ThunderClan has commited an unforgiveable crime. They haven't killed just any innocent cat. Sedgewhisker was a queen. She was expecting kits soon, her first litter! There was even life inside her that had no reason to be ended!"
At this, the WindClan cats roared louder until I was sure that StarClan themselves could hear it.
I had never been this frightened in my life. "Silverpaw!" I cried. "Please don't hurt her!"
The other ThunderClan cats began to call out, pleading with Onestar.
The leader tightened his hold on the apprentice. Silverpaw wiggled weakly and mewled with fear. Her ears were folded so far back so that it looked like she had no ears at all. Her eyes were two round marbles, wide with fear and almost perfect circles. Just what was he planning to do with her?
Onestar raised his claw high above his head. They gleamed ivory in the sunlight, glinting coldly and as sharp as razors.
"Onestar!" Bramblestar roared.
"Onestar!" Squirrelflight gasped.
Their yowls mingled with the triumphant jeers of the enemies.
I distinctly heard the shouting of a familiar voice somewhere in the crowd.
"No!" Wolfpaw cried. "Please don't hurt her!" She tried to break free from the crowd. She tried to rush toward the Highledge, but was stopped by a pair of cats. Even then, she tried to fight her way through.
"Don't hurt her!" she screamed, her voice now high and tight with raw fear. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could see tears running down her face. "She's my sister!"
The WindClan leader was blind to all of their cries. With his claw now high above his head, he brought it down on the struggling Silverpaw with full force. It happened in slow motion. I saw Onestar's intent, bloodthirsty look, the sheer desperation in Squirrelflight's eyes, the helplessness in Bramblestar, Wolfpaw's tears, Scorchpaw's shocked look.
He brought his claws down, aimed directly for her chest, the razor-sharp points just inches from her fur.
I staggered to my paws, fear and desolation all mixed into one.
"Stop it," I shouted. Craning my neck forward, I yelled as loud as I could, "Stop it!"
There was a rumble coming deep from within the earth, as if the ground was creaking like joints and yawning deeply at the same time. There was a sound like a tooth being wrenched out of its socket, and then the ground trembled and shook and cracked like splinters. An agonizing groaning filled the air, loud as thunder, big as an explosion.
A tree at the edge of the clearing rocked in its place, waving back and forth, as if it was uncertain what to do. And then, in a sudden instant, it leaned forward and doubled up and came crashing into the camp. There was an explosion of dust as it collided with the dirt. The earth heaved and sighed with the rolling of the waves, and the sky was filled with the bellow and crash of wood against stone and the snapping of branches like bones.
The dust cleared. Everything was silent. A momentary hush had filled the clearing. A sense of alarm hung heavily in the air.
I was aware of the rapid pulsing in my ears. The cats were silent, all of them staring at the fallen tree in the center of the battlefield. Their fur was fluffed out.
Onestar's claw had stopped and was hovering several inches from Silverpaw's chest.
The tree had been old. It had suddenly toppled over, its rotten roots loosening enough for the earth to spit it out like a seed. And, out of chance, it had chosen this day to die.
Maybe StarClan was watching over us after all! Only they could have sent a thunder bolt to strike down a tree!
Was Silverpaw going to be alright?
Slowly, little by little, the alarm began to wear out.
Onestar hissed, "No matter what you do, you won't stop me. We came here to avenge the death of our fallen comrade. She had no reason to have her life ended. Even the blood spilled today won't be enough to satisfy me."
Squirrelflight cried desperatley, "You're going too far with this, Onestar!"
"Silence! You killed one of my Clanmates. Don't you think I have the right to take a life from one of yours?" His voice began to break. "And why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I just rip off her pelt and slit her throat like you did to Sedgewhisker?" His claw trembled, barely touching her fur. He wouldn't dare!
He couldn't just kill Silverpaw out of cold blood like that!
A voice, clear and true, cut through the still air like a knife and rang around the camp. "Because I'm telling you not to, Onestar."
Every cat turned toward the shape of a cat perched on top of the cliff, standing against the sun.
I could see the shock on the cats' faces. Even Onestar's eyes widened with disbelief.
"That voice," he whispered.
I shielded my eyes from the sun, trying to get a glimpse of the cat.
Who the heck was she?
Black fur that gleamed like polished stone. She looked like a shadow.
Nearby, I saw Dewstep standing stock-still. I wasn't sure if he was even breathing.
The black cat grinned softly, and I could have sworn that I had seen that smile somewhere before.
"Hello, Dewstep," she meowed with a voice that could make the world turn over. "Do you remember me?"
