Okay, I know the battle part's a bit unrealistic…they couldn't possibly have escaped…well, I realised I put them into an impossible situation, so I um…had to do a bit of tweaking to get them out of it. Sorry…just be glad I updated. Even though this is definitely not a good chapter. And I can't be bothered to reply reviews by clicking on the button, so I've decided to put replies at the end of the chapter. If you reviewed the last chapter, go look for yours!

Chapter Seven

Tension hung in the air, so strong that Dustpelt could almost feel it pressing down on him. Unsure what to do next, he swung his head desperately from side to side, green eyes searching for an escape, a gap between the BloodClan cats.

There was none.

The dusky tabby began to creep forward, intent on rejoining his Clanmates. Startled, he raised his head when a defiant cry rose from the ragged group, a cry which echoed off the boulders strewn around the slope.

"We are the Clan-cats of the forest, and we will never surrender to a bunch of flea-bitten rogues!" Dustpelt recognized Webfoot's voice, and felt a glow of pride. It was quickly swallowed up by sadness, that such a plucky young cat would likely be killed soon.

They wouldn't surrender, though.

He quickened his cautious pawsteps, reaching the Clan-cats. Webfoot was the first to spot him. "Dustpelt! We –"

Hastily, Dustpelt shushed him. "Listen. When they attack, don't fight. Flee. It's the only chance of survival." He didn't add that even so, the chance was very slim. "I'll take Sorrelkit. Webfoot, take Rainkit. Mosspelt, take Sootkit. If we get separated, we'll meet…um…over that rise, the one above the Moonstone. StarClan be with you all."

Scourge sneered in response to Webfoot's cry, unaware of the whispering going on among the Clan-cats. "Foolish bravery, fit for a forest fool like you, and the rest of your friends." Baring sharp fangs in a twisted grin, he hissed, "You may have escaped me twice, but you will not escape me this time."

Throwing his head back, the small black tom yowled out the dreaded words. "Kill them!"

The tide of cats surged forward, just like a tide of blood. They swept forward, forward, to engulf the Clan cats in their midst. Snatching up Sorrelkit – the small tortoiseshell was so terrified she was trembling silently – he leapt forward, to meet them.

Later, he only remembered flashes of that terrible few minutes, which seemed like hours, days, moons…

…a huge BloodClan tabby leaping towards him, paw upraised…he barely dodged out of the way, crying out in pain as claws raked down his side…

…another cat, a she-cat, attacking but not going for him…going for Sorrelkit…desperately, he swerved, and she missed…he wondered how a she-cat could ever bear to kill a kit, but there was no time to wonder and a swipe took half his ear before he slid away…

…a lightning-fast blow from a grey tom sinking into his shoulder, a jolt of pain…he fled, slipping in his own blood…

…thinking it was impossible, he would never get out, there were so many cats, all of them bent on killing him and the others…wondering where the others were, forgetting there was no time to wonder….another blow making blood drip into his eyes…

…coming face to face with Scourge himself…the small tom fought like a fox, no, like a badger…he barely dodged those deadly blows, hazy as his mind was with blood, pain and fear…and then slipping between the paws of another cat and escaping back into the snarling, writhing mess…

…and at last! Leaping out of the horde, ragged and bleeding and half-blinded with his own blood, Sorrelkit with her eyes tight shut and whimpering, miraculously still dangling from his jaws, a pitiful bundle of fur. Dazed, Dustpelt vaguely recalled his own words to the other cats, to meet behind the rise, and set off. His paws ached, wounds throbbed and stung, but he kept going, driven by determination alone. No strength left. Just determination.

In the roiling sea of flashing fangs and claws, no one saw a small, broken tabby creep unsteadily over the rise, silhouetted for a moment in silver moonlight, before disappearing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dustpelt sat in the shadow of a boulder, staring at the ground between his paws. It felt slightly damp; he wondered hazily why. It didn't really matter, anyway. He was tired, so very tired, drained both physically and emotionally by the battle. He didn't even notice Sorrelkit crouched shivering beside him, her downy kit's fur stained with blood.

The sounds of pawsteps reached his ear, but his dazed mind could not respond.

Finally, the brown tabby raised his head, green eyes haunted.

"It's all my fault," he whispered to the cat before him, who happened to be Webfoot, equally bloody and ragged as him. A small kit tumbled out from behind the warrior and ran to crouch beside Sorrelkit.

Webfoot stared. "Your fault? For what?"

"My fault. I led you all into this. How many of us have died? How many?" A note of despair crept into his voice. "Are we the only ones left?"

The other cat did not answer, dropping his gaze. Then he gasped.

"Dustpelt! You're bleeding!'

"I am?" the brown tabby muttered. "I…didn't know…" Indeed, the ground was stained with his blood. No wonder it was damp. And his fur was stained, especially his shoulder…no wonder he felt light-headed…loss of blood could cause dizziness…or so he had heard…a long time ago…from…a medicine cat…what was her…name again…Cinderpelt, was…it…he knew he was drifting and he knew he shouldn't let himself…but the darkness beckoned so invitingly…so dark, so deep…so soft…

Dustpelt's head dropped, and he slumped to the ground, eyes glazing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

When Dustpelt woke, he was lying on soft grass beneath a tree. Even raising his head was an effort, but he did it. Looking around the clearing, he realised it was still night. What had happened? He couldn't remember any further than the moment when he had escaped the battle…

He noted, too, that someone had covered his numerous wounds with cobwebs, stopping the bleeding. Still, he felt weak as a newborn kit. He was sure he wouldn't be able to stand

He instinctively flattened his ears when a voice sounded behind him, but the surprise was quickly replaced by a rush of relief.

"Dustpelt, you're awake!"

Turning his head, the tabby smiled at the cat who had greeted him. It was the RiverClan apprentice named Featherpaw, daughter of Graystripe and Silverstream. She carried a wad of cobwebs wrapped around one paw. "Were you the one who treated my wounds?"

Featherpaw nodded, shuffling her paws shyly. "Yes. Mudfur taught me a bit, so I could help him in the…the…battle with BloodClan."

Her brother Stormpaw came up beside her, gazing admiringly at Dustpelt. "Oh! What did you see at the Moonstone, Dustpelt? What did StarClan say?"

Those words reminded Dustpelt of his nine lives. "I…have to tell all of you together. Where are the rest?"

Stormpaw indicated a direction with a flick of his dark grey tail. "Over there, resting. We carried you away from the rise, as far as we could. I think…you were unconscious. The BloodClan cats could easily have found us, so we had to go. It was mostly rocky so we didn't leave any scent, hopefully. The forest we're in is just below the rise."

Dustpelt nodded. "Good. Will you take me to them? There are important things I have to tell you."

Featherpaw darted forward, distress clear in her blue eyes. "Wait! You can't get up yet! I'm not a trained medicine cat, but I know that much!" She began pressing more cobwebs on Dustpelt's wounds.

Stormpaw hesitated, then meowed, "Is it all right if I bring them here?"

The tom thought for a moment, then nodded again.

The dark grey apprentice bounded off. A few moments later, he returned with a group of cats, many of them limping and striped with unhealed wounds.

Dustpelt ran his eyes over the ragged-looking felines. Ragged-looking, but they were what mattered. Webfoot, Mosspelt, Boulder…and the kits. "Where is Ashfoot?" he asked. He hadn't really spoken to the WindClan queen, but he remembered her – a dark grey she-cat.

It was Webfoot who answered, his voice soft and sad. "She…she didn't emerge from the battle."

Dustpelt closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Ashfoot is dead. Dead, because of me. Still, he had to go on. Especially now that StarClan had named him leader.

Opening his eyes, he looked around at the rest of the cats. "Well. I suppose you're all wondering what happened to me at the Moonstone."

wolfhorse Yeah, they were. ;D I couldn't think of anything to write, so I put a big battle in front of them.

Rosetail's loyalty Yep, I think it wasn't. But well, I'm glad you're glad about me updating. XD And I hope this new chapter satisfies you. :)

Aquadream Really, is my story that sad? XD never mind…at least I can make people cry with my writing!

almondmuffin Thanks! But I don't live in America, so for me it isn't summer, and my school holidays are ending. I will try to update though!

Streamheart Yay I've updated! Thanks for the compliment, keep on reading:)