"Where am I?"
Fear, guilt, anger. Rising panic as the pain spread from his belly to his throat.
"No. This is what I deserve."
"You fool." A mocking voice in the darkness. A pair of green eyes smoldering from somewhere past his senses.
Rage. Rage like he had never felt.
"You foxheart!" The word cracking his lips. "You lied to me!" Pain, rippling across his body. Darkness obscuring him like water, only fear and the lingering taste of sweetness on his tongue.
"You knew what you were doing. You knew." That voice, that wretched voice.
Faces flashing in his memory. Terror, confusion, pain. Stretching his paws to find comfort in the endless nothing. Nothing. Only horror and bloody claws.
"Don't trust her. DON'T LISTEN TO HER!"
Dawnheart jolted awake, gasping for air. For a moment he panicked, remembering a choking, burning feeling in his throat. Nothing was wrong, though. He was fine. He slowed his breathing, trying to remember. The dregs of his dream clung to his mind like dew to whiskers. He shook his head, trying to dispel them. Within moments his heart had slowed and his mind cleared. Just a nightmare.
He shifted in his nest absentmindedly. A cascade of freezing snow slid down his pelt and filled the cracks between his limbs and flank. With a squeal he jumped up, bewildered. Snow? In the warrior's den?
He looked around in the half-light to discover that the cats around him were dusted in a layer of fresh snow.
"Wake up!" He called. "It snowed!"
The warriors around him began waking with grunts and angry hisses. These died away soon, though, as they realized what had happened. The cats stood abruptly, shaking the snow off their coats.
"It's freezing!" Cherrynose complained, brushing the whiteness off her muzzle. Swiftwing shook out his coat beside her.
"It's too early for snow." he grumbled.
"Obviously not." Whiteshade said with a sigh. "Every cat come out to the clearing. I'll wake Blizzardstar." He turned and squeezed out of the den.
One by one the warriors left the den, still shaking their pelts and grumbling. Dawnheart looked around in awe at the snow-covered camp. It was like an entirely new world. The gray light of dawn caused a soft glow to emanate from the new drifts.
Slatefang padded up to his denmate's shoulder. "This is weird." he said. "It's not even leaf-bare yet."
Dawnheart nodded in agreement.
The camp was waking up around them. Talonscore had run to check on the nursery and the sound of wailing kits drifted up through the bramble covered den. The apprentices were leaving their den as well, blinking in confusion. Angry hisses sounded from the elder's fallen log.
"Warriors and apprentices!" Whiteshade called from the entrance of Blizzardstar's den. "Gather round."
The CedarClan cats formed a semicircle around the hollow tree that their leader used as a den. Whiteshade and Sweetsorrel crept out, followed by Blizzardstar himself.
The huge white tom surveyed the camp. His blue eyes were dark.
"We need to organize," he said. "Whiteshade, you oversee reinforcing the camp against the cold. Brushfire, we need a stocked fresh-kill pile."
Brushfire nodded. "You can count on me." she purred.
"What about the WillowClan border?" Falconstorm called out.
"I'll lead the dawn patrol." Blizzardstar said. "After that we can start a rotating shift." He gestured to Sweetsorrel and Elkheart and the three warriors slipped away from the group.
Dawnheart's stomach wiggled uncomfortably. He didn't want to go back to the WillowClan border anytime soon. He hoped he would be left out of the rotation, but he knew deep down that every warrior needed to do their part.
Whiteshade stepped forward and looked over the gathered warriors.
"I want six warriors and the apprentices here in camp." Whiteshade said. He turned to Brushfire. "I assume that leaves you with enough hunters?"
Brushfire flicked her tail over his flank. "I suppose."
The group of warriors began splitting into two groups. Dawnheart turned to Slatefang.
"I'm going out to hunt." He said. He glanced nervously at Slatefang, looking for a trace of the unreasonable anger he had shown the previous day.
Slatefang just nodded. "I'll come with you."
Relief flooded through Dawnheart.
They moved off to the side where Ferntail, Cloudpelt, and Brushfire were gathered. Runningriver and Kestrelfeather joined them a moment later.
Once every cat was sorted, Whiteshade and Brushfire began giving out assignments.
"Runningriver, go to the Fallen Tree." Brushfire decided. "Ferntail, take Cloudpelt to the Slaterocks. There might be prey sunning themselves." Runningriver took off. Cloudpelt stood up and immediately lapsed into a coughing fit.
Dawnheart stood up, ready to jump to the older warrior's side and steady him. Ferntail got there first.
"Are you alright?" She mewed, looking anxious.
Cloudpelt nodded despite his continued coughing.
Brushfire looked down her nose at Cloudpelt. She scrutinized him until his fit had subsided. "Can you hunt?" she asked.
Cloudpelt looked up at her through watery eyes. "Yes." he wheezed. Before any cat could argue, the older warrior made a run for the fern tunnel. Ferntail followed, her long tail lashing. Dawnheart shared her concern. This was no time for cats to be getting sick.
Dawnheart and Kestrelfeather you head to the stream. Slatefang you're with me." Brushfire finished.
Dawnheart shook himself as he heard his name called. Cloudpelt would be fine. He could take care of himself. Dawnheart had other things to worry about. He turned to Slatefang.
"See you -" He cut off. Slatefang was padding up to Brushfire. He said something to the ginger she-cat. She cocked her head and glanced back at Dawnheart. She rolled her brown eyes and shook her head. Slatefang lashed his tail once. Brushfire flattened one ear and rolled her eyes again.
"Ready to go?" Kestrelfeather had moseyed up to Dawnheart's side.
Dawnheart hesitated. "Yeah..."
Slatefang turned away from Brushfire with a curt nod. He padded back and nodded to Kestrelfeather.
"Brushfire changed her mind. She wants you to hunt with her." he said.
Kestrelfeather winced as he glanced over at the stern she-cat. "Great," he muttered.
Brushfire didn't look any more excited than Kestrelfeather did, but the two met up and bounded away together nonetheless.
Dawnheart eyed Slatefang, slightly annoyed.
"I can hunt with other cats, you know." He said.
Slatefang shrugged. "There's something I needed to talk to you about. Ready to go?"
Dawnheart sighed and gestured with his tail for Slatefang to lead the way. He could be clingy sometimes, but Dawnheart indulged him. Especially now that Spottedfur was gone it didn't feel right to deny him.
Slatefang nodded in appreciation and together they trotted across the clearing and through the fern tunnel.
They burst out into a frozen forest. The sun was slowly but surely creeping through the trees, casting everything with odd horizontal shadows. Snow was on every surface, delicately covering even the tiniest of branches and leaves. Foliage that had been hanging on to life the day before now lay limply under a blanket of frost.
Dawnheart sniffed gingerly at a dead patch of marigold. "Plumleaf is going to be upset." he said, shifting his weight from paw to paw.
"I'm sure she's got herb stocks." Slatefang muttered. Neither of them mentioned the issue that was hanging over them like a dark cloud. Where would the Clan get catmint?
There was an awkward silence between them for a moment.
"About yesterday…" Slatefang began.
Dawnheart raised his tail for silence. "It's okay.
Slatefang scraped at the snow-covered ground. "I almost got you hurt." He protested.
"But you didn't." Dawnheart brushed his cheek along Slatefang's jawline. "You made the right decision in the end."
Slatefang cast Dawnheart a grateful look. Then the gray warrior's gaze dropped to his paws. "I still want them to pay for what happened." He said quietly.
Dawnheart's heart twisted. "Blizzardstar will see it through."
Slatefang extended his claws and his eyes burned. He didn't say anything, but Dawnheart could guess what he was thinking.
The looming promise of a battle with WillowClan was like a choking fog over every cat's head. Now that Leafbare had come early the threat was even greater.
"Let's hunt." Dawnheart said. Action would make them both feel better.
The toms followed an invisible trail through the trees, ears pricked and mouths open. The scents of the forest were muted under the cold. Dawnheart strained, trying to pick up a whiff of prey. He felt Slatefang stiffen beside him.
Dawnheart cast a glance at his companion. Slatefang's green eyes were fixed on a spot above Dawnheart's shoulder. He slowly turned his head and saw a raven perched in the tree above them.
Instinctively, Dawnheart sank further down into the snow, ignoring the cold at his belly. Slatefang gathered his back legs beneath him, ready to pounce.
With a mighty leap Slatefang launched himself from the snow and up into the air. He stretched his front claws out above his head. One snagged the raven's wing. With a squawk, the raven was wrenched down as Slatefang fell back to earth. Dawnheart pounced and pinned the bird under his paws before it could get away. He delivered a killing bite, silencing the animal before it could make any more noise.
"Well done." Slatefang said.
Dawnheart pawed snow over his kill. "We make a good team." he said with a playful nudge.
Their catch hidden from scavengers, Dawnheart and Slatefang continued across the snowy ground. They found no traces of prey as they approached the small stream that ran through the center of CedarClan territory.
Dawnheart was pleased to hear bubbling water as they drew closer. An unfrozen stream meant that prey would be drawn here.
By sunhigh, Dawnheart and Slatefang had caught two water voles and a squirrel between them. Despite the sun's rays shining directly overhead, the snow persisted. Dawnheart fluffed his pelt out against the cold. His pads ached and his legs were freezing. In order to get the voles, he had splashed his way across the freezing stream.
"Do you think this is enough?" he asked Slatefang. Slatefang looked out over the forest, his mouth open to catch any scents.
"I think we got lucky finding this much." he decided. "Let's head back."
Dawnheart grabbed his voles and Slatefang heaved the squirrel into his jaws. Together they began to pick their way back to camp.
Before they reached the entrance, Dawnheart stopped suddenly, causing Slatefang to run into him.
"We forgot the raven!" Dawnheart said.
Slatefang dropped his squirrel. "I'll go back."
Dawnheart nodded. His paws were still aching. "I'll wait for you."
With a flick of his striped tail, Slatefang bounded away back the way they had come.
Dawnheart found a relatively clear patch of ground and settled down. He looked up at the slivers of sky he could see through the cedars. It was bright blue.
He thought of Spottedfur. The ache in his heart was still raw, but every day that passed took a little of that pain and gave it away. He remembered how she had guided him and Slatefang through the loss of their parents.
One day you'll think of them and the love will outweigh the pain.
She had been right, of course, but she had never stopped them from grieving.
Dawnheart closed his eyes and drew in a long breath of the crisp air. He imagined he could smell Spottedfur on the chill breeze.
A screech split the air.
Dawnheart bolted to his feet, ears pricked. He knew that voice. Slatefang.
He took off in the direction of the sound. His heart pounded in his ears. The screech had sounded angry. Had Slatefang had a run in with an intruder? A stray dog or wolverine? The uncertainty of it all made Dawnheart push himself faster.
He turned a sharp corner in the path and came across the tree where they had made their catch earlier. Dawnheart slowed, straining his senses.
The raven was still buried under a layer of fresh undisturbed snow. Unease pricked at Dawnheart's pelt.
He hurried further down the path. Maybe Slatefang had forgotten which tree it had been.
The sudden sharp, metallic stench of blood made Dawnheart stop in his tracks. The fur on the back of his neck stood up. Something was terribly wrong. The smell of blood was overwhelming.
Dawnheart turned his head slowly, feeling sick.
In the shadow of a path-side boulder was the corpse of an enormous hare. The animal was twisted in a bloody heap. The flesh was torn and ripped, and dark blood seeped out of the chasms of flesh. Beady black eyes stared sightlessly up into the sky. Its mouth was twisted open in a silent scream of pain.
Bile rose in Dawnheart's throat. The hare was big enough that it could've fed the elders and the queens by itself. The wretched thing would only feed scavengers now. What could have done something like this? What kind of predator mauled and left the prey uneaten?
"What the hell?!"
Dawnheart whipped around, shaken. Slatefang was standing behind him. His green eyes were fixated on the hare's corpse. He drew his lips back and wrinkled his nose.
"Slatefang! What happened? Are you okay?" Dawnheart cried. He took a step towards him.
Slatefang backed away. Dawnheart stopped and looked his friend over. Slatefang's front legs were drenched in muddy, icy snow and debris. He looked unhurt, though on edge.
"What did you do?" Slatefang spat. He seemed to gather himself enough to stalk forwards and examine the ruined prey. His neck fur rose, and his eyes flashed.
Dawnheart took a step back, confused. Realization hit him a moment later.
"You think I could have done something like this?" He said.
Slatefang glanced up at Dawnheart. Dawnheart's blood ran cold at the sight of suspicion in his face.
"Slatefang, I had nothing to do with this." Dawnheart said in a quieter voice. He was bewildered that he even had to say these words.
Slatefang's face gave a subtle twitch. His eyes widened and he blinked a few times like he was in a sudden bright light.
"The only scent here is yours." He growled.
Dawnheart drew in a shaky breath. All he could smell was blood.
"Help me bury this. We don't want scavengers." Slatefang said. He grasped the hare by its hind leg and began dragging it away from the main path. Dawnheart didn't move.
"Do you believe me?" he demanded.
Slatefang said nothing. He dropped the hare and began to scrape at the hard ground.
Reluctantly, Dawnheart began to help. The silence between them lasted.
. . .
Dawnheart stumbled alone through the fern tunnel, dragging his raven behind him. The camp was still bustling with activity. Cats were pushing clumps of snow to the edge of the clearing with their paws. Warriors swarmed over the dens, pulling tendrils of brambles and fern fronds through the patchy walls. An impressive pile of fresh-kill lay in a dip in the ground surrounded by a ring of snow.
Dawnheart flopped the raven on the top of the pile. He spat a stray feather onto the ground and gave himself a shake. He swept the clearing for any sign of Slatefang. The gray warrior had left before the hare was fully dealt with, saying that he needed to check something out. He hadn't returned.
There was no sign of Slatefang in the camp. Instead, Dawnheart found Whiteshade patting a thick clay soil into the base of the warrior's den. Dawnheart walked over.
Whiteshade looked up as Dawnheart approached.
"Ah, you're back." Whiteshade said. His paws were muddy, and his chest fur was stained with brown. He stepped back from the den. "We need extra paws here. Jump in."
Dawnheart grabbed a mouthful of thick bracken and began weaving it in and out of the den walls. The labor allowed him time to think. He fought back thoughts of unease and fear as he reimagined the hare. His only other train of thought led him to anger at Slatefang. How could he think that Dawnheart would be capable of something like that? Slatefang was usually so reasonable, how could he have been so blinded to the obvious signs of Dawnheart's innocence? He let his anger fuel his paws and he lost himself in the work. He hardly noticed when Whiteshade called for a halt. Dawnheart dropped his cold, muddy paws to the ground, feeling suddenly exhausted.
The CedarClan warriors around him began stretching and talking amongst themselves.
Blackmoth padded over to Dawnheart and purred. "You have bracken on your head."
Dawnheart twitched his ears in an attempt to dislodge the offending frond. Blackmoth leaned up and grasped it in her teeth. She spat it out and brushed Dawnheart's side with her tail.
"Let's get something to eat." She said.
Dawnheart hesitated. What he really wanted was to find Slatefang and confront him. That or go to sleep in his nest. Instead he let Blackmoth lead him away.
Together they padded over to the fresh-kill pile. They waited their turn behind a crowd of hungry clamoring cats. When Dawnheart and Blackmoth finally reached the pile most of the best pieces had been taken.
They grabbed two slightly gritty mice from the edge of the pile, padded over to the Root-tree and sat among its twisting overhead roots. Dawnheart bent to take a bite of his mouse and saw his muddy paws. The brown reminded him of the hare's fur. The dead, massacred hare. He began vigorously cleaning his paws.
"How was hunting?" Blackmoth mewed through her mouthful of mouse.
"Surprisingly good!"
Dawnheart looked up to see Kestrelfeather and Runningriver approaching.
"Hi!" Blackmoth purred. She scooted herself over to make room for the warriors. They settled down and began chatting about hunting and den repairs. Dawnheart found it hard to join in. He found it hard to even eat. He couldn't get the stench of that rabbit's blood out of his head.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Falconstorm. The large warrior had approached the group and was talking to Kestrelfeather. The dark tabby's tail was twitching, and his amber eyes were anxious.
"Did you see Ferntail in the forest today?" Falconstorm aimed his question at Dawnheart.
Dawnheart shook his head, surprised. "Why?"
Falconstorm's tail lashed. "She and Cloudpelt haven't come back yet."
"Brushfire sent them to Slate Rocks." Runningriver offered. "Have you checked there?"
Falconstorm immediately turned and headed for the fern tunnel.
Kestrelfeather jumped up. "She's fine, Falconstorm!" he called.
Falconstorm ignored him.
Before the dark warrior could take any more than a dozen steps Ferntail and Cloudpelt pushed their way through the camp entrance. Cloudpelt was leaning heavily on his Clanmate. His gray and white sides were heaving.
Dawnheart felt a jolt of fear. Had Cloudpelt been attacked?
"I'll get Plumleaf." Blackmoth said. She turned and sped across the clearing to the medicine den tunnel. Runningriver jumped to her paws and bounded over to Cloudpelt who had been gently laid to the ground by Falconstorm and Ferntail. Dawnheart got up and followed her.
"Father!" Runningriver cried. She sniffed at the older warrior's flank. "What happened?"
Ferntail leaned on Falconstorm, breathing heavily. "He collapsed on the hunt." She gasped. "He couldn't breathe."
"You weren't attacked?" Dawnheart found himself asking.
Ferntail shook her head. Falconstorm groomed her ears, making soft murmuring sounds. Kestrelfeather carefully drew Runningriver back with his tail.
"Give him some air."
Dawnheart backed away, relief washing over him. For a moment he had been terrified that whatever had killed the hare had gotten to one of his Clanmates. Shame pricked at his ears. He should've told somecat about what he had found.
Plumleaf and Petalpaw rushed past, almost knocking him off his paws. He watched, dazed, as Plumleaf shoved the crowd of warriors out of the way to get to Cloudpelt's side. Dawnheart took a few more steps back and collided with something directly behind him. He jumped and spun, tail bristling.
It was Slatefang. Dawnheart took a deep breath to slow his heart. Slatefang's eyes widened and his ears flattened.
He looked Dawnheart up and down. "Are you okay?"
Dawnheart blinked, confused. The anger and accusation in Slatefang's eyes had gone. Instead, there was only concern.
"What-" Dawnheart began, but he was interrupted.
"Dawnheart!"
He looked up and saw Whiteshade waving him over. Dawnheart cast a quick glance at Slatefang before hurrying over to where Whiteshade was waiting.
"Blizzardstar wants to see you." the deputy said.
Dawnheart's belly twisted. He turned and looked at Slatefang. The tabby dropped his gaze to his paws. Slatefang had reported him! The betrayal melted and swirled into his anxiety, making him feel sick.
Whiteshade led Dawnheart a few fox-lengths to the left of the warrior's den to the fern thicket where Blizzardstar's hollow log den was half hidden in the fronds. Whiteshade stood outside the open end and gestured with his tail for Dawnheart to go in. Dawnheart ducked his head and entered.
The log was brighter inside than he expected. There were a few holes in the ceiling letting the evening light in. Mosses hung from the walls and ferns poked in the several gaping holes in the floor. Blizzardstar sat at the far end of the den, a half-eaten pigeon at his paws. His eyes were half closed, like he was deep in thought. Dawnheart hesitated.
"Blizzardstar?" He said quietly. Blizzardstar opened his dark blue eyes and studied the warrior for a moment. Dawnheart wanted to shrink under his leader's scrutiny.
"How was hunting today?" Blizzardstar finally said.
Dawnheart was surprised. "Better than we expected."
"Good."
There was another silence. Then Blizzardstar spoke again. "Slatefang told me something quite disturbing."
Dawnheart's stomach lurched. "Blizzardstar I-"
"I could not believe that my newest warrior would slaughter and destroy a perfectly good piece of fresh-kill." Blizzardstar interrupted Dawnheart's plea. "Slatefang was quite troubled at the idea as well."
"I found it like that." Dawnheart said. He stared at Blizzardstar. "I promise."
Blizzardstar held his gaze, searching.
"I believe you." He said after a moment. "But this is troubling. Go report exactly what you saw to Whiteshade. You are dismissed."
Dawnheart dipped his head.
"Thank you Blizzardstar." He began to back out of the den.
Whiteshade was waiting for him when he emerged. Dawnheart did as Blizzardstar ordered and told Whiteshade about the destroyed hare.
Whiteshade nodded, looking pensive.
"This is strange." He admitted. "I'll have to warn the patrols to keep an eye out."
He dismissed Dawnheart with a flick of his tail. Dawnheart dipped his head and turned away. His paws led him to the newly reinforced warrior's den.
The den was a hollowed-out area underneath the roots of a cedar. The warriors had spent the day packing mud and bracken into the gaps between the roots, making it water-tight. As Dawnheart stepped inside he was surprised to find that it was warm. There were a few sleeping forms in the scattered nests, heating the air with their breath.
Dawnheart let his numb paws guide him to the back of the den where the newer warriors made their nests. He settled down into the fresh bedding and tried to focus on rest. His mind was clouded. All he could see was the dead hare, its eyes staring into nothing.
He closed his eyes, trying to put different thoughts, any thoughts, into his head. The soft sounds of a cat entering the den distracted him for a moment. Then the cat settled down into the nest next to his and he caught its scent.
Slatefang.
Dawnheart looked up. Slatefang was cleaning the mud off of his paws.
"You are awake then." Slatefang said between licks. "What did Blizzardstar want?"
Dawnheart felt a stab of annoyance. "You know what he wanted," he snapped.
Slatefang paused. "I didn't think he would talk to you about it." he said quietly.
Dawnheart whirled his head around to face his denmate. "You accused me of something! Why wouldn't he follow up?" He tried to keep his voice low so as to not disturb the den's other occupants.
Slatefang looked genuinely surprised. The expression made Dawnheart angrier.
"Accuse you? I only said that I was worried about you. Ever since Spottedfur you've been...off."
Dawnheart was incredulous. "Me?" What about everything you've been doing? He wanted to shout the words.
Slatefang was losing his patience. Dawnheart could read it in his face and increasingly huffed breaths. "I just wanted to look out for you."
Dawnheart let his confusion and anger out. "Well don't." he said bluntly. "You're only making things worse."
He turned around and tucked his head down close to his chest, pretending to want to sleep. He could feel Slatefang's desire to keep arguing, but eventually the gray tabby got up and left the den without a word.
Dawnheart expected to feel relaxed or satisfied but his anxiety only worsened. Slatefang was only trying to help. Why was he sabotaging the closest relationship he had?
His thoughts went back to the hare. Something had savaged it and he knew it hadn't been him. He shivered and curled up tighter.
When sleep finally came, he dreamed of Slatefang covered in blood and staring with black, empty eyes.