CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Fogpaw came back to the motel the next morning with knowledge of many things: that WindClan had been defeated, that some of RiverClan was living with ShadowClan, and that there was to be a war with the Dark Forest beginning any day now. She also came back with a plan to get them out of Kingfisher's grasp. This plan was the only thing that kept from cringing as she approached. She had tasted freedom, had slept outside, had been so close to never thinking about this place again... and now she was back. She had to trust it would only be temporary.

She slunk back in the front doors, trying to look appropriately embarrassed, so they would not suspect anything out of the ordinary with her return. She was going to pretend she had tried to run away, only to become lost and scared during the night. She would have realized that the motel was her home, and the only place in the city she was safe. Fogpaw just hoped the guards would believe it.

"Are you sure about this?" Oaktail asked, lashing his tail. "We could just fight them."

"Kingfisher has too many cats," Fogpaw replied. "A brute force approach won't work. We need to be smart about it."

"I can handle city cats," Berryfang growled. Apparently he had been a loner before joining ShadowClan. "I know how they think. How they fight."

"They want queens," Fogpaw said, and she gave Flowerpelt an apologetic glance. "We can use that to create a distraction."

"And the kits?" Oaktail asked. "How do we get them out?"

Fogpaw thought about Petra's room: small, likely guarded, and with a high, barred window. "I have an idea."

As soon as Fogpaw entered the lobby, she was immediately intercepted by a guard. Nero, she remembered. The one who had stopped her from leaving before. He hadn't liked her very much then and the expression on his face indicated that his opinion had not changed.

"You're back," he said, snarling.

She ducked her head and tried to look properly ashamed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I got lost, and – I couldn't leave my friends, and – "

Behind him, she could see Locust at the back of the lobby. The black tom looked thoroughly shaken, and fairly weak. He glanced at her and then away quickly. She had left him lying on the ground, sick and without medicine – and he looked much worse for it. Fogpaw looked away quickly.

Nero leaned in toward her. "Don't try anything like that ever again," he hissed. He radiated danger. He had struck her before; she had no doubt that he wouldn't hesitate to do it again. "Go back to your room."

She nodded and made herself appear very, very small. Nero leaned back, satisfied with his threat. Fogpaw was just thankful that Kingfisher wasn't here to admonish her. What had he thought about the situation?

Fogpaw could feel the contempt bubbling from Nero's thoughts, and on a whim she searched further within them. The resentment was strong, but she also sensed relief that she had returned, coupled with fear that they would lose another opportunity to have viable kits. His fear did not excuse his actions, but she understood them now. He had not been born cruel but crafted this way by their situation. It didn't make Fogpaw like him any better, but she found she didn't care enough to hate him.

"I'll take her from here, Nero," Grainheart mewed, padding over, his eyes scanning her. Somehow he had maintained a good relationship with the guards, always choosing a diplomatic approach when dealing with them. "You're back," he then said to Fogpaw. She knew what he was implying: he thought she had run off for good. Fogpaw felt momentary satisfaction at proving him wrong.

"I – yes," she managed, aware of the eyes on her. Not just Nero and Grainheart, but the other cats milling around the lobby. "This is our home now. I couldn't leave any of you." She spoke a little too loudly, trying to convince the band cats of her loyalty. Maybe they would believe she had felt drawn back and finally accepted this reality.

"Good, because I need to talk to you about something," said Grainheart.

"I actually have something important to – " Fogpaw began, and then caught herself, looking around at the assembled guards. She didn't want to make them suspicious. Her plan would have to wait until they had some privacy. "You go first, Grainheart."

"I've been having dreams, this last few nights," he admitted, lowering his tone as they padded out of the lobby and down the hallway. Fogpaw grimaced at the ratty carpet under her paws, remembering mere hours ago when she had been standing on grass. Grainheart continued: "You remember why I left RiverClan in the first place?"

"Sleetfur's kit was stolen by a mad warrior, you went on a patrol to the Twolegplace, never came back, et cetera," Fogpaw intoned, by memory now. She had heard Grainheart's story multiple times from him. It was tragic, but it was so long ago that she didn't see the relevance – though she supposed for him it had only felt like moons.

"Yes, thank you," he said dryly, clearly not appreciating her tone. "We went looking for Mistkit and the rest is lost to me. Or rather, was lost."

"Oh?" Fogpaw still didn't see the importance of this conversation, especially when she had something much more pressing to discuss. She picked up their pace so they would reach the room, and the others, more quickly.

"The dreams recently have been bringing some of it back. Flashes of image, and sound – glimpses into my past life. Or of my past life."

"Mmm." They reached the entrance of their room, where a guard was seated. Well, that was new. It might make things a bit more difficult. The guard nodded to Grainheart and gave Fogpaw a warning glance. So it was a reaction to her escape. Fogpaw nodded at the guard anyway and shouldered by him to get inside.

"Fogpaw, listen," Grainheart hissed. "I think I see myself die, and – I see this place."

She shot him a sharp glance. He saw the motel in his dreams? Was it really a past memory, or just his dreams reflecting the current stress of being stuck here? But then they were inside before she could suggest an explanation, and the others got to their paws when they saw her.

"Fogpaw!" Hazelthorn said, nearly stumbling over his twisted paw as he approached her. His eyes were wide. "I was worried you'd run off."

"Or that something had happened to you," Tawnyfeather added, diplomatically.

Fogpaw shook her head. "I'm all right. Better than, actually. I have something I need to tell all of you. Come closer, and keep your voices down."

They crowded around her and she relayed the story of how she had escaped, though she conventionally left out how bad Locust had seemed, and run into the woods only to discover the RiverClan patrol. That brought a collective sigh of relief from the other three. Tawnyfeather looked both relieved that the patrol was there and also anguished that she could not run to Oaktail right away. Hazelthorn initially looked excited, but then his face fell. "How do we get the kits out?"

"The band will never let them go," Tawnyfeather agreed. "They're with Petra, and there are guards posted outside the room ever since you ran off."

"We thought about that," Fogpaw said, "and we came up with a plan. Listen." She informed them of the details - the distraction, the kits, the the fight that would potentially be needed at the end - and they all listened attentively. It was strange to have them all focus on her. In another life, she was still an apprentice being mentored; here, she was something else, something separate from them, and she knew as she talked that even if they returned, she was never going to have a normal Clan life.

When they were done the discussion, they went back about their day as they would ordinarily, so as not to rouse any suspicion before the plan could begin that night. Fogpaw went for a stroll around the motel, hoping the movement would ease her nerves. She thought about going to see Petra and the kits, but it made her stomach twist with a strange anxiety, so she abstained.

Grainheart found her and joined her for the walk. "I think my dreams are important to what's going on here," he said urgently.

"And I think that escaping is far more important than solving your mystery," Fogpaw said back, her tone more hasty than she had intended. She understood his urge to know the truth, but they needed to focus on the larger picture.

"You dismiss me too easily," Grainheart said to her, in a very cool tone that she realized too late was not disguising anger, but hurt.

"I'm trying to focus on what I can change now," Fogpaw retaliated. Deep down she knew that he was right, but she didn't want to take responsibility for hurting him. He should be able to manage and control his emotions, just as she could.

"We're very similar, Fogpaw," he said.

"No."

"StarClan brought us both back to life," Grainheart mewed. "What are you going to do with it?"

Fogpaw wasn't convinced that StarClan had saved her as much as the darkness buzzing around inside her head, but she didn't say that. Instead she bared her fangs at him. "I only, I don't know, helped save the Clans from WindClan? I saved RiverClan cats from the crash and led them to safety."

"You led us here."

"And all you do is complain!" Fogpaw snapped back. "Why don't you do something useful?"

Grainheart flinched. Fogpaw turned and stalked away from him, down the hall, trying to get her now bristling fur to settle and her anger to wane. It had been an unfair thing to say, but he had started it. Couldn't he see that she was trying to do what was best for them now? How dare he blame her for this situation? She had only wanted what was best for all of them…

But it didn't matter. They would escape tonight and this would all be behind them.

.

Night came and with it, the distraction that was central to their plan. There wouldn't be many cats awake right now; a couple of guards in the lobby, some outside Petra's room, one by the stairs, and another outside Fogpaw's room. In anticipation, Fogpaw and Tawnyfeather went out for a walk around the hallway to stretch their legs. The guard outside their room grudgingly let them go. Grainheart and Hazelthorn, who were not guarded, were already in the lobby when it happened. As soon as Fogpaw heard the noise, she and Tawnyfeather ducked into the nearest open door, which turned out to be a small storage closet with nesting material and herbs. Locust's herbs? she wondered.

She could hear yelling from the lobby, and then footsteps down the hall as the guards patrolling were drawn to it. She could also feel the thoughts of the guards as they went to deal with it. We need to help her! one of them was thinking.

Flowerpelt would be out there right now, just outside the motel doors, asking for help against Berryfang, who she would claim was trying to hurt her. The guards would be unable to resist helping a potential new queen; little did they know how capable Berryfang was of defending himself against multiple opponents. Then, just when they thought that they had Berryfang subdued, Flowerpelt would turn on them as well. Grainheart and Hazelthorn would be able to get out easily, and hopefully the distraction would be enough for Fogpaw and Tawnyfeather to slink out, especially if they didn't have the kits slowing them down or drawing attention to their location. If they were lucky, they would be poised to escape when the kits were reported missing.

If they were unlucky, the distraction would fail and the doors would be locked down before they could get out. Fogpaw didn't know what she and Tawnyfeather would do if they were trapped in here.

As soon as the hallway was clear, however, she and Tawnyfeather left the closet and walked down toward Petra's room. The guards had stayed there, unfortunately, but that was to be expected. Fogpaw and Tawnyfeather stayed in the shadows, close to the wall, and moved stealthily. The herbs from the closet had helped disguise their scents, an unexpected but appreciated side effect. Between that and the darkness, the guards didn't notice them approaching.

Fogpaw leapt at the guard on the left while Tawnyfeather took the one on the right. The guards didn't expect the sudden attack from the shadows. Fogpaw bowled hers over quickly as possible and struck his head, hard, with her paw to knock him out, realizing only too late that it was Locust. Should she feel guilty about that? Maybe. She didn't feel it, but the question lingered in her head.

"Come on," said Tawnyfeather, and they entered the room.

Petra was in the corner, the kits sleeping in nests around her. As Fogpaw and Tawnyfeather entered, Petra woke up. For a moment she was groggy, but her expression soon turned into confusion and worry. "What are you doing in here?"

"Taking the kits," said Fogpaw, trying not to look at Petra too long.

"They'll never let you out of the motel with them." Petra was staring at them with wide-eyes, almost in disbelief.

"We aren't taking them out the front door," said Tawnyfeather, and she leapt up onto the windowsill, where strong metal bars blocked them from escaping through it. Or rather, blocked any grown cats.

"Are you there?" Tawnyfeather called out into the darkness.

Fogpaw turned to Petra and approached her cautiously. She was ready to knock Petra out too, if it came to that. "You could come with us," Fogpaw said instead, hating that she was pleading, if only a little bit. "Away from here, and to the Clans."

But Petra just shook her head, which felt like a shard of ice stabbing into Fogpaw's chest, and a flare of anger overtook her. "Stay quiet then," she hissed. "If you don't want to get hurt."

There was a thump as a cat from outside the motel leap onto the outside windowsill. A brown tabby face poked its head in through the bars, its eyes falling exclusively on Tawnyfeather.

"Hey," said Oaktail.

"Hi," said Tawnyfeather. They stared at each other for a soundless moment and Fogpaw, feeling as though she was intruding, looked away and back at Petra. The tortoiseshell was keeping silent, and Fogpaw could only hope she would stay that way. Hurting Petra was the last thing she wanted to do. She just didn't understand why Petra would choose to stay here, when she could leave, and be free. Then Tawnyfeather leapt back down toward the kits.

Tawnyfeather grabbed Icekit by the scruff of his neck and leapt up onto the windowsill, gently prodding the kit out between the bars. He was nearly too large to fit now – they were almost grown enough to be apprentices – but he managed to squeeze through. He gave her a wide-eyed look but then seem relieved when he got closer to Oaktail. "I know you," he mewed. "You're from RiverClan."

Oaktail nodded. "We're going to take you home."

"You just need to keep being brave," said Tawnyfeather, as she hoisted Cricketkit up next. He looked terrified, but they were doing their best to keep composed. Fogpaw admired that. Oaktail brought them down on the other side, Fogpaw could scent Limepaw outside as well, likely helping to keep the kits calm.

Thornkit was last and as Tawnyfeather leapt up, she slipped, and barely managed to keep a grip, her paws scrabbling on the smooth sill while Thornkit dangled from her mouth, belly smushed into the wood ledge. Fogpaw jumped to help them, abandoning her post and going underneath Tawnyfeather to push her back up. With Fogpaw's shoulder supporting her, Tawnyfeather managed to climb up, gently placing Thornkit on the ledge. Thornkit grumbled, but shook it off.

Once they were all through, Oaktail pressed his nose through the bars and against Tawnyfeather's own. "I'll see you soon, love," he murmured softly. "We'll go home."

"I love you," said Tawnyfeather, blinking warmly at him.

Again feeling uncomfortable witnessing this, Fogpaw turned to look at Petra – who was gone. She must have ran out while Fogpaw was distracted.

"Mouse-dung," she swore. What if Petra had gone to fetch a guard? Or worse, Kingfisher?

Tawnyfeather echoed her sentiment. "We need to get out of here," she said, hopping down from the ledge. Fogpaw nodded and they quickly moved out of the room and back into the hall. But as Fogpaw left the room, she noticed movement by her paws.

Locust was still on the ground where she had left him, but he was twitching and seizing. Fogpaw froze. She couldn't leave him a second time, not after what the first time had done to him. "You go ahead," she told Tawnyfeather, hating herself a little bit. Tawnyfeather nodded and ran, and Fogpaw went the other way, to the small closet where she had found the herbs earlier.

What had he said? Valerian, thyme? She had seen him chewing on it either. Fogpaw screwed up her face and dug through the herbs. Luckily there wasn't much variety, and the herbs that Locust needed were kept secluded in a back corner. Fogpaw took them gently in her mouth and then ran back to the doorway where Locust was lying.

She nosed his shoulder. "Wake up." Was she supposed to force feed them to him? Fogpaw shifted from paw to paw, a momentary lapse of confidence. She couldn't leave him to suffer again. He had never been cruel to her; he was just trying to do what was best for the band. Ugh. Fogpaw pushed the herbs over to his muzzle, trying to get them in his mouth. Maybe he needs them before the seizures, she thought at last. It's preventative. Mousedung. What could she do now?

Ultimately she decided to leave them by his muzzle, so they would be there when he woke, or ready if another cat came by and knew how to use them properly. Fogpaw sighed and turned away. She needed to get out of here and join the others; she had already delayed long enough.

But she only made it a few steps down the corridor before a figure emerged from a connecting hallway and stopped her.

Kingfisher. Petra must have woken him.

"What do you want?" Fogpaw snapped, fur bristling.

Kingfisher made an imposing figure, face half-caught in the moonlight. His claws were out, digging into the fraying carpet. "You don't want to do this, Fogpaw," he cautioned, and for the first time she felt the real threat of danger coming from his mind. Before it had been about keeping her here. Now he might actually hurt her to stop her from leaving.

She eyed him. He was too bulky; she likely couldn't slip past him. Even if she did, there would be more guards coming. She only hoped that Tawnyfeather would make it out all right. Fogpaw took a step backward. Nowhere to go; she couldn't get through the barred window. Then her eyes flickered to the side. The stairs to the second story were, for once, unguarded. Maybe there was another way out up there. Maybe a window without bars.

Fogpaw let her gaze slide back to Kingfisher. She couldn't let him know what she was considering. Instead, she started talking to distract him as she delicately began to shift to the side, so she would have less distance to cover when she finally made a break for it. "I don't understand," she said, loudly. "Why Petra would turn us in. Why she would stay here, in this place that just hurts her." Part of her was hoping that Petra was listening from somewhere nearby; the other part of her just wanted to voice her frustrations.

"This is her family," said Kingfisher, without any hesitation. "It could have been your family."

Fogpaw didn't want to accept that reasoning. There had to be something else – it didn't make sense. Petra's actions reminded her of Stripedpaw, but she didn't want to admit that they were the same, that Petra was also too cowardly to change her situation. Fogpaw wanted to think better of Petra, wanted to believe…

But. Other cats can't be who I want them to be, she thought, and with that, she darted up the stairs.

She flew up them, heart thumping, aware that Kingfisher was scrabbling a few steps below her. She was quicker, and had the advantage of surprise, but he was gaining on her, powerful muscles propelling him up the stairs. The stairwell curved and then there was another flight. Fogpaw threw herself up them and then at last she burst out onto the second floor.

It was dark up here, dusty, and a rotten stench made her wrinkle her nose. It was the smell of – she nearly stopped in her surprise. It was the smell of the darkness, just like WindClan.

Kingfisher was almost up the stairs behind her. Fogpaw looked around in alarm and saw an open door near the end of the hall. She ran over and jumped inside, pressing against the shadowed corner of the room, hoping Kingfisher had not seen her enter.

The smell of darkness was overwhelming in here. Fogpaw kept herself from gagging as she looked around the room. There was the darkness, but there was another scent. Like the elders den back in RiverClan. And then she saw her: an old, frail cat sitting in a nest at the back of the room.

Old was too generous a term. She was ancient, more like a silvery ghost than any living being, and she was looking at Fogpaw – or rather, she was looking in Fogpaw's direction. Fogpaw saw that her eyes were milky. She did not speak, but her mouth opened the air to scent, and she let out a few raspy breaths. Then she turned away from Fogpaw, evidently not realizing there was anyone there.

The High One. She did exist, and she was sick. Kingfisher hadn't been lying entirely. But she wasn't sick with anything conventional – somehow the Dark Forest had infected her, just like it had the Clans. The darkness buzzed in the ancient cat's head, masking her thoughts. It was a low vibration that Fogpaw hadn't been able to notice before, but now that she was closer, it was obvious.

"A long time ago, before I was born, a Clan warrior came into the city with a kit," Kingfisher said, entering the room behind her so he took up the door frame. "He united a group of rogues to become our band; he was revered as the first High One, and he groomed her - the kit - to take his place. She led us for many, many moons. Then, six moons ago, she fell sick."

Fogpaw stared at him and then back at the High One. A silver-grey she-cat, who would be over a hundred moons by now… her eyes widened when she realized what it meant. Grainheart was right. He was right and she had dismissed him. "This is Mist…"

Kingfisher cocked his head. "You've heard of her?"

The missing kit that Grainheart had been sent to find. His best friend's kit, stolen by a warrior that had been driven mad by the Dark Forest, as punishment for how StarClan had helped Grainheart before. Grainheart must have led the patrol here, to this motel, and been killed for it.

And now Mist was infected by the Dark Forest too. It started the same time as everything with WindClan. When they started their war. Maybe it was on purpose; or maybe the darkness in Mist had just been some ancient artifact, and when the Dark Forest had become active again, so did it. Either way, that darkness must have called to Fogpaw, which is why she had felt guided when leading her group here. I should have been more suspicious.

"This is why the kits don't live," Fogpaw breathed. "Because she's sick."

"We don't know for certain," said Kingfisher. "That's why we need you and Tawnyfeather, and your kits."

Fogpaw stared at him a moment. She could try to fight him, to somehow get by and rush down the stairs. The darkness in her head buzzed at that idea. It wanted her to be aggressive. But Kingfisher was stronger than her. She didn't have a chance at defeating him.

So she took the unthinkable option: she talked to him, and she told him the truth.

"You don't want me Kingfisher," she mewed softly. "I'm sick too."

"What?" Genuine surprise crossed his face. Then he steeled himself, obviously thinking she must be lying.

"The same thing as Mist. The same evil. It comes from the Clans," Fogpaw said. Oaktail had explained to her the current situation with the Dark Forest, and how they were preparing for war. It was difficult to let herself be honest with Kingfisher. Nothing had ever been solved appealing to a rogue's better nature. But she had to try. "We have to go back to our Clans so we can defeat it."

StarClan and the Dark Forest. Actions and reactions. Somehow their reach had extended into the Twolegplace, and innocent cats were hurt for it.

Kingfisher's face twisted into a snarl when he realized the same thing. "This is all your fault." Not hers specifically. All of theirs.

Mist jerked her head at that, perhaps hearing them for the first time. Fogpaw held perfectly still, not sure why she was afraid, but being reverent regardless. After a tense moment, she spoke again, making sure her voice was quiet. "We need to go home so we can stop it," she mewed. "We can stop the darkness and then your band will be healthy again. Your kits will live."

"You're lying," he growled, but he was less angry this time, and his eyes were scanning her face as he considered what she said.

"No," said Fogpaw, and she mustered every last bit of energy she had to convey her sincerity, to make her face just vulnerable enough, to let her honesty shine through her eyes. It was not genuine emotion, but she knew how to emulate the body language. She was no good at this – it was probably her least preferred way of trying to solve a problem – but she had to try. "I'm not lying. Let us go back to our Clans and we can fix this. I wish I had known sooner, so it didn't have to come to this."

He was still watching, silent, considering. Mist, behind them, had dismissed the brief moment of noise she had heard, and was settling in her nest. The darkness calmed as she did, but the scent remained rotten.

"I'm sorry for what you've been through," Fogpaw said, again feeling so strange to have sympathy come from her mouth. She wondered how cats did this on a regular basis. "I know it's not fair. And I know you only want what is best for your band. Please let us go, Kingfisher, and we'll stop this darkness. When we do, I'll come back, I'll let you know that it's safe. I promise."

His thoughts softened, as did his posture, and his eyes were full of wonder as he stepped back. He should his head, in disbelief that he was listening to her. That he would let her go. "Okay," said Kingfisher at last, and Fogpaw felt a rush of power, that she had accomplished this not through fighting, but with words, by trying to understand his pain and promising to heal it. "Okay."

.

The sun was just beginning to rise by the time the patrol left the motel. Kingfisher and Petra stood by the door to see them off. In the faint morning light, Petra's dappled fur shone gold, and she looked more beautiful than ever. Fogpaw watched her with an odd discomfort fluttering in her chest. Despite everything, despite her disappointment, her feelings remained.

Berryfang led the way out of the Twolegplace, while Fogpaw, Flowerpelt, and Grainheart carried kits in their mouths. Limepaw trailed behind Fogpaw, staring at her in wonder. Fogpaw, skimming the surface of his thoughts, gathered that it was because she was so young and yet so intimidating to him. Hazelthorn padded along beside him, still with a slight limp that had become permanent. Meanwhile, Oaktail and Tawnyfeather took the rear, talking to each other in hushed voices. The relief in Oaktail's head was so loud it was hard for Fogpaw to hear anything over it – but that was okay, because she didn't need to listen in to their thoughts. She let them keep their reunion private.

Fogpaw didn't talk to Grainheart; she didn't know what to say to him. He had been right about his dreams, and it was what had saved them in the end, while she had ignored and insulted him. There was a chasm between them she did not know how to bridge. How could she repair the hurt she had caused him? He was ultimately her only friend, the only one who knew the truth about her, and now she had pushed him away. Convincing Kingfisher to let them leave had cost her so much emotional energy; she had none left to spend on Grainheart.

Instead she just kept moving forward, with Cricketkit swinging from her mouth. He occasionally complained that he could walk instead, but they were trying to make good time. In another couple of days she would back with RiverClan. Fogpaw doubted it would feel like home, but the excitement in the cats around her was contagious, and she couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. She would never fit in with the Clan cats, but for the first time in so, so long, she would have freedom.

X

A/N: Sorry for the slow update, this chapter was a beast to write. I finished it on the weekend and just did edits this morning. This should clear up questions about the band and set the stage for future plot developments. If I had been writing this story all at once instead of over many years I would have included more foreshadowing in the earlier Fogpaw chapters, but hopefully this will cut it. Next chapter is back to the Tribe!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)