Neither Falconstorm nor the body of the cougar ever resurfaced. Hawkstrike and Kestrelfeather arrived at the edge of the lake with almost the whole CedarClan battle patrol and what looked like half of AlderClan in tow.
Heronflight and Crowfrost were both lifted onto the shoulders of their clanmates and brought to a nearby rocky clearing where the injured had been moved. There Finchfoot, the AlderClan medicine cat, began tending to Crowfrost's wounds. They looked bad.
Heronflight lay on his side a tail-length from where Finchfoot was working on Crowfrost. His side burned with every breath, but he refused to be looked at until he knew Crowfrost was going to be alright.
From what Heronflight could get out of Hawkstrike, WillowClan had been 'escorted' to the border and sent back to their land. They had gone quietly, dragging Cougarstar's corpse behind them. None of them asked where their deputy had gone. The rogues had wholly vanished. Eaglestar had sent patrols to follow their scent, but was convinced that his warriors had chased them off for good.
Now the injured were crowded into the small, sheltered clearing while the able-bodied patrolled the territory, CedarClan among AlderClan with no qualms to be had.
Heronflight watched Crowfrost's side rise and fall in staggered, labored intervals. His breaths seemed shallow. At first he had been bright eyed and talking, telling them how Falconstorm had saved him by sacrificing himself. Now he was silent and barely moved as Finchfoot worked.
"Is he going to be okay?" Heronflight croaked, unable to stay silent much longer.
Finchfoot pressed an ear to Crowfrost's side. "His lungs are clear of water, but he's lost too much blood." the medicine cat said flatly.
Heronflight's fearful gaze flicked to the corner of the stony hollow where the bodies of at least ten cats lay, still and cold. Finchfoot hadn't been able to save those cats. Could he save Crowfrost?
"Finchfoot needs help." Heronflight insisted, feeling frantic. He looked over to where Cherrynose was licking a shallow wound to her flank. "Where is Petalpaw?" he shot at her.
Cherrynose opened her mouth to reply but Finchfoot ran her over. "She's busy." he sniffed. Heronflight could see the grumpy tom's eyes narrow with concern as he patted cobwebs into Crowfrost's wounds. The white film soaked with blood almost at once.
"She's helping Blizzardstar." Cherrynose told Heronflight quietly.
Heronflight was confused. "What happened? I thought he was alright."
"He collapsed soon after the battle was over." The tortoiseshell warrior didn't elaborate. "Have you seen Slatefang?" she added.
Heronflight shook his head.
A fearful expression on her face, Cherrynose got up and moved away to help elsewhere.
Heronflight's belly lurched but his fear for Blizzardstar was eclipsed by his worry for Crowfrost. He couldn't lose his brother. Not now, when he had just gotten him back. Not now, when he had just lost…
He couldn't make himself face the emotions that Falconstorm's death had brought him. He would confront those later. Once Crowfrost was okay.
Finchfoot drew in a sharp breath of frustration. Fresh blood blossomed from Crowfrost's flank between the medicine cat's paws.
"It just won't stop." Finchfoot hissed between clenched teeth. There was real desperation in the medicine cat's voice.
Heronflight made to get up and do something, he didn't know what, but something. The pain of his broken bones kept him down. He stared between Crowfrost and Finchfoot. The latter had stopped shivering. His eyes rolled back in his head.
Panic gripped Heronflight. "Do something!" he shot at Finchfoot.
But Finchfoot didn't do anything. He just shook his head bitterly and continued to press uselessly down on Crowfrost's unmoving flank.
Heronflight looked around for someone, anyone to help. Hawkstrike was helping look for wounded. Kestrelfeather was away somewhere Heronflight didn't know. The hollow was full of unfamiliar faces that were busy tending to their own wounded, too busy to spare a glance for Crowfrost. Anyone Heronflight would or could call to was out of his sight.
And then she was there. Her green eyes met his as she hurried to him. Rationally he knew that there was nothing Petalpaw could do for Crowfrost that Finchfoot hadn't already done, but once Heronflight locked eyes with her he knew in his heart that she would make everything okay.
"Let me." She said to Finchfoot as she reached them.
Finchfoot snorted in half-anger, half-exasperation. "What makes you think you'll be able to do what I can't?" He looked up to shoot her a glare but paused when their eyes met.
Petalpaw stared the older medicine cat down. "Hornedpaw." she said simply.
Without another word, Finchfoot stepped back from Crowfrost's flank and allowed Petalpaw to take over.
Heronflight expected her to start pressing cobwebs into his wounds or maybe assess his condition, but instead the tabby she-cat carefully settled herself down next to Crowfrost and closed her eyes. Finchfoot watched her with a strange expression of awe and confusion, as if he knew what was about to happen and didn't understand it at all.
Heronflight watched Petalpaw in silence as the rise and fall of her flank began to slow until it matched the subtle movements of Crowfrost's. There was a moment of tense stillness that half of Heronflight wanted to break, while the other half knew he couldn't dare.
Crowfrost let out a harsh, gasping inhale. Petalpaw did the same. She stood and stumbled away from Crowfrost's side, struggling for breath. Finchfoot rushed forward and pressed an ear to Crowfrost's flank.
"His heartbeat is strong again. His lungs sound clear." He looked up at Petalpaw, astonished. "Part of me wanted to think that Hornedpaw was just a coincidence but…" his voice was barely more than a whisper. He shook his head. "You have a gift, Petalpaw." He turned and began wrapping fresh cobwebs around Crowfrost's wounds.
Petalpaw stood awkwardly to one side, watching, until she noticed Heronflight staring at her again. She padded over and began to feel at his side with moth-gentle touches of her paws.
Heronflight had no idea what to say. He just watched as she tended to him. He barely winced when she pressed harder to assess his injury.
She was the first to break the silence.
"I'm so sorry about Falconstorm."
At the sound of his father's name, the shock that had been staying Heronflight's tongue loosened.
"How did you do that?" He knew she wouldn't have to ask what he meant.
She avoided his eyes. "I'll tell you later." she said simply. Her gaze flickered to the bodies of the dead at the edge of the hollow. Pain shadowed her tired eyes. "If I knew more about it, maybe I could have saved them too."
Heronflight's sympathy was quickly silenced by a sudden sharp pain in his side as Petalpaw set his ribs unexpectedly.
"Sorry." She said as he wheezed in shock. "I figured it would hurt less if it was a surprise."
She was right of course. The anticipation of pain always made it worse. The burning of his broken ribs was already fading to a dull ache. He let out a deep breath and rested his head on his paws.
Petalpaw was silent as she moved to his tail. The cougar's teeth had ripped away fur and flesh, but no bones seemed to be broken. Heronflight winced as Petalpaw began to apply a salve to his raw skin.
Now that his mind was clear of pain and fear for Crowfrost, Heronflight could feel the grief coming off of her in waves. Her paws shook slightly as she worked and her breathing was stiff and shallow.
Heronflight lifted his head and tried to catch her eye. She avoided his gaze, but glanced at Finchfoot who was still wrapping Crowfrost's wounds.
"Are you okay?" Heronflight said in a low voice.
Petalpaw finally looked at him. Her eyes were brimming with stark anguish. When she spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper.
"Blizzardstar isn't well."
"What do you mean?" Heronflight felt a new worry creep into his chest.
Petalpaw shook her head. "After he collapsed, it took a long time for me to rouse him. When he woke up he…" she paused and swallowed. "He didn't recognize me."
Heronflight's heart twisted for her.
"I'm sure he just needs time." He said. He reflexively reached out with his tail to lay it on hers, but stopped once he realized what he was doing. She had obviously noticed. She moved her tail closer to her body and avoided his eyes.
"He's sleeping again now. I left Morningsong with him."
Heronflight didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell her so many things about what had happened, but a rift had formed between them that felt as deep as the icy lake. He readied himself to speak, but she didn't give him the chance.
"I should help." she said. She wasn't looking at Heronflight. She was watching where a group of bedraggled AlderClan warriors had arrived supporting several cats between them.
Of course, Heronflight reminded himself. This was why they couldn't be more. She had her duty, he had his. This was what she was meant to do.
"Get some rest. I'll come check on you later." Petalpaw said.
Heronflight wondered if she was looking at him, but he didn't turn to check. He just nodded and rested his head on his paws. After a brief moment he felt her move away. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see her go.
. . .
Dawnheart hurried through the battle-torn forest. Smears of blood and churned up earth marked the ground. Dead plants were ground into the rocky soil. Here and there, clumps of fur were caught on branches and tree stumps.
He had searched almost the entire battlefield. There was no sign of Slatefang. No one else had seen him. Dawnheart cursed himself for losing sight of him during the battle, even though he knew that it had been an impossible task.
Fear for his friend shadowed his steps despite what he knew; Slatefang could not have been killed. He was simply too much of a force to be reckoned with. He was too fierce. Too strong.
Despite this, Dawnheart made himself move faster. He wandered past the obvious borders of the fight to where only a few pawprints dimpled the snow. He followed a set that was heading towards the lake. He couldn't scent whose they were, but he figured something was better than nothing.
He followed the pawsteps into a copse of pine trees. Exhaustion tugged at his limbs and his head ached, but he found himself unable to give up. Something had been happening to Slatefang over the last moon, and Dawnheart had been to blind to see it. He had let Slatefang's troubled mind fester without lifting so much as a paw to help. He had been too distracted by his own troubles.
If something had happened to Slatefang, Dawnheart didn't know if he would ever be able to forgive himself.
He edged down a slope and passed into a clearing. There were more pawprints here. And blood and fur. As Dawnheart scanned the area, something caught his eye.
A lump of dark fur at the foot of a tree.
Panic made Dawnheart lurch forward. He stumbled over his own paws as he came to a stop at Slatefang's side.
The warrior was curled into a ball with his eyes closed, almost as if he was sleeping.
Cold terror washed over Dawnheart. He pressed a paw into Slatefang's side.
To his immense relief, the warmth of life greeted his touch. Slatefang was still very cold, but he was alive. Dawnheart settled down next to him and pressed his warmer fur into his side.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Please don't die, Slatefang. I'm so sorry.
Slatefang didn't move or respond. Dawnheart made a quick examination from where he was laying. There were no obvious wounds on Slatefang's body.
"He won't wake."
Dawnheart jumped and looked up. A huge black tom was standing before them. He was looking down at Slatefang with wistful green eyes.
"What do you mean? Who are you?" Dawnheart asked. He didn't bother keeping the desperation out of his voice.
The black tom's ears pricked and he looked at Dawnheart as if he had only just realized he was there. He didn't say anything.
"Please," Dawnheart said, "What's wrong with him?"
The stranger turned away, his eyes downcast and his shoulders low. "He is incomplete. I.-" he glanced at Slatefang's unmoving form and away again. "I took too much from him."
There was something about the way this cat spoke that was familiar to Dawnheart. He racked his brains, trying to place the distinct cadence.
"We've spoken before." Dawnheart said slowly.
The stranger turned his head further away.
Dawnheart's heart quickened. "You're the reason, aren't you? The reason he's been so strange?"
The black tom didn't look up. He gripped the ground with his claws. "Sharing his body was the only way to stay undetected."
Anger boiled up inside of Dawnheart amidst his deep confusion. "You stole his body?"
The black tom finally looked up and met Dawnheart's eye. "I might as well have. I didn't realize just how difficult it was going to be to communicate in a shared body. My meddling caused him great strife. I am sorry."
"Can you fix him?" Dawnheart demanded.
The stranger hesitated. "Yes, but-"
"Then do it." Dawnheart interrupted.
The black tom met Dawnheart's gaze and sighed. "Fine. But the final choice will be his."
Dawnheart didn't have time to ask what that meant before the stranger had vanished completely and Slatefang began to stir next to him.
. . .
The glow of sunset cast amber light over the stone walls of the AlderClan camp. Heronflight lay beside Crowfrost's sleeping form below a low outcropping of rock. A half-eaten mouse lay at his paws. The pair sat slightly away from where the rest of CedarClan were resting. Eaglestar had agreed to let the CedarClan patrol shelter with his Clan until they were strong enough to make the journey back. Petalpaw and Morningsong were with their father, who had still not awoken from his seemingly unending sleep.
Falconstorm and Blizzardstar were not the only casualties that CedarClan had sustained. Shadowgrove had been killed by a blow to the head from Cougarstar, and Brushfire had succumbed to her wounds before Petalpaw could reach her. And no one had seen Slatefang. Given the gray tabby's strange connection to the night's events, Heronflight didn't know if he should be more or less worried about the tom's continued disappearance.
Lost in thought, Heronflight barely noticed when Hawkstrike came padding over and flopped down on Crowfrost's other side. The tabby was carrying a vole and looked exhausted and somewhat annoyed.
"Riverwhisper made me stop hunting." he growled as he tore into the vole. "Said I needed to rest."
"You do." Heronflight said. Hawkstrike had been out hunting or searching for injured practically non stop since sunhigh.
"I still have plenty of strength left." Hawkstrike grunted as he tore another bite off of his vole. His words were slightly muffled from his previous unswallowed bite.
"You look dead on your paws." Heronflight shot back.
Hawkstrike glared at him but didn't respond. He had finally decided to swallow it seemed.
"Can you two," a voice piped up in the temporary silence, "complain elsewhere?"
Heronflight and Hawstrike looked down to see Crowfrost blinking up at them, annoyed. Relief washed through Heronflight's exhausted body.
"Welcome back to the world of the living." Hawkstrike said with a friendly nudge to Crowfrost's side.
Crowfrost winced and leaned away. "Cougar bite." he hissed.
Hawkstrike shied away, looking abashed.
"I'm glad you're alright." Heronflight said to Crowfrost. "We almost lost you there."
Crowfrost's face went stony again and he didn't meet Heronflight's eye. "So it's true?" he said after a moment. "Falconstorm is dead?"
The bluntness of the statement hit Heronflight harder than he had expected. He managed to nod.
Crowfrost fixed his eyes on his outstretched paws. "He saved my life," he said quietly.
All three brothers fell silent. Heronflight watched as a few AlderClan warriors milled around their camp. He tried not to think about the last words his father had spoken to him.
Don't worry. Just stay…
Not even a full thought. Just a plea and a demand.
"I'm shocked he went through with it. I always thought Hawkstrike was the favorite." Crowfrost mewed causally.
Heronflight whipped his head around to stare at Crowfrost. Hawkstrike was looking at him too, his mouth half-open.
"Me?" Hawkstrike choked. "He thought I was a bumbling moron! You were the favorite."
Heronflight balked. "Hawkstrike!" he sputtered. Then he was gripped with the strangest urge to purr. The gravity of what happened wasn't sinking in. The strangeness, however, was just beginning to hit him.
"What a way to go. Drowned by a monster." Hawkstrike said in a thoughtful tone.
They fell into a chorus of purrs that gained them some weird looks from passersby. Once he started, Heronflight felt like he couldn't stop. The absurdity of it all crashed down on him in waves of resounding mirth. He purred as he thought of the shapeshifting monster that had almost corrupted his brother. He purred as he thought of his strange ability to see the dead. He purred as he thought about all the times Falconstorm had failed to be anything like a real father.
The purrs faded altogether. Hawkstrike and Crowfrost were looking distant, too. There was a moment of silence.
"Do you remember what he was like before Dovekit died?" Crowfrost asked.
Heronflight thought back. "He brought us mousetails."
"He called me his little shadow." Hawkstrike said wistfully.
Crowfrost nodded. "He comforted me when I had a nightmare. Once."
They fell quiet once more.
Eventually Heronflight spoke. "He wasn't a good father, but he was a good cat."
Hawkstrike nodded.
Crowfrost was staring at nothing in particular. "He never hesitated," he said. "Not when somecat needed help."
Heronflight watched his father plunge himself willingly into certain death in his mind's eye. "No. He never did."
"When we get back home, do you two want to help me find a memory stone for him?" Hawkstrike said.
Crowfrost and Heronflight exchanged a glance and both nodded.
. . .
Slatefang, wake up.
His body ached all over. He could remember pain, so much pain, as he was torn and ripped by huge jaws.
Slatefang, you have to wake up now.
He didn't want to wake up. He wanted to keep drifting in this world between consciousness and unconsciousness, blissful and asleep.
His muscles jerked involuntarily.
I don't want to do this, but I will if I have to.
The voice was stern and familiar. Was it his own? No. No, it definitely wasn't. It was-
His thoughts were interrupted as his paws were wrenched upwards of their own accord. He stumbled to his feet and into wakefulness in one forced movement. He stood on shaking legs, blinking in the sudden light.
Sorry. I warned you.
Nice warning. Slatefang thought back.
He gave himself a firm lick on the shoulder. He tasted blood, but there were no deep wounds like he had expected.
What happened? He thought to the voice inside of him.
I used your strength. I needed a real body to fight her. I protected you from harm, mostly, but you might be sore.
Slatefang gave each leg an experimental shake. Functional. As he checked himself over, thoughts began trickling back into his mind of the past moon. The voice in his head. The periods of lost memories. The surfacing of a second will inside of him, distinct from his own. The acceptance of this Other.
Something had changed. Slatefang felt more him than he had in a long time, but at the same time, he felt more connected to the Other inside his head than he ever had. They weren't a single will and force anymore, but the separation brought clarity and understanding where before Slatefang felt more like a passenger in a body he had lost control of.
Why aren't we...one anymore? Slatefang thought.
There was a pause before the voice answered. I'm not sure. I was injured by her. Maybe it weakened our bond.
Slatefang took in his surroundings. He didn't recognize where he was. It smelled of AlderClan, though, so he knew he was somewhere within their borders. He looked up and gauged the position of the sun. His gut told him it was after sunhigh, so he knew which way the lake was.
How did we bond in the first place?
It wasn't on purpose. I never meant to take anyone over. I just needed someone to help me. I was drawn to you. You reminded me of me. The voice was full of regret.
And who exactly are you?
My name was Thunderstrike. I was a CedarClan warrior a long, long time ago.
You really are another cat. I'm not going insane.
No, no you are not.
What now?
I'm not sure.
Slatefang found that he carried no ill will towards Thunderstrike, but he knew that he had been deeply and profoundly changed. His mind was now split in two. His body wasn't completely his anymore. Who was he now?
His thoughts drifted to Cherrynose. He had hurt her. Badly. How could he ever face her again?
And then there was Dawnheart. Slatefang blinked. Dawnheart was right here. Standing just to his side and looking very anxious.
Slatefang turned to him. "Sorry, I didn't-."
"You're alive." Dawnheart's voice was broken with tiredness and relief. He paused, uncertain. "Are you…you?"
Slatefang understood. Dawnheart knew.
"Yes." For the most part.
Dawnheart relaxed a little. "I thought I'd lost you. Not just in death but, in another way too."
Slatefang knew what he meant. He faltered, unable to bring himself to say what he knew he must.
"He didn't change the way I felt." He said quietly. "He just made it hard to control the anger."
Dawnheart's face fell as he processed what that meant. He took a step back from Slatefang. It hurt like a thorn in Slatefang's paw, but he did not blame his denmate.
"So it was you?" Dawnheart said in a small voice. "You really…" he trailed off, his voice failing.
Slatefang didn't know how to explain himself. He didn't know how to tell Dawnheart that he had blamed him for Spottedfur's death in some way. That he had been filled with rage and betrayal when he had watched Dawnheart let Spottedfur's real killer get away. He didn't know how to say that it had crossed his mind more than once whether Dawnheart really belonged in the forest.
He knew he couldn't explain in a way that would matter. He had damaged their relationship beyond repair.
"Come back to the Clan with me." Dawnheart said suddenly. "Every cat is looking for you."
Slatefang blinked. He had felt so disconnected from the Clan for so long. Could he really ever go back? He turned inward.
What should we do?
It is up to you.
Will you stay?
That is also up to you. But I do not know what will happen if I leave for good.
Slatefang hesitated. You defeated her, right? Your task is done.
There was an unsettling silence in his head.
I do not believe she is dead. She is ancient and powerful. A simple drowning will not stop her.
What does she want from the Clans?
Destruction.
Slatefang let this information settle in his mind. He gripped the ground with his claws and looked up at Dawnheart.
"I can't go back." He said.
Dawnheart's ears flattened. "I'm not angry with you. I want you to come home."
Slatefang's heart twisted. "Things are different. I have something else I need to do."
"Is it really more important than serving your Clan?" Dawnheart shot. His eyes were wide with desperation.
"I will be serving our Clan." Slatefang said.
"You're running away." Dawnheart spat.
Slatefang shook his head. He didn't know how to make Dawnheart understand. So much had changed. So much would never be the same.
"Tell Cherrynose I'm sorry." He said.
Dawnheart stood, defiance in his blue eyes. "Tell her yourself," he said.
Slatefang dipped his head. "I'm sorry, Dawnheart." He turned.
I hope you can forgive me one day.
Dawnheart didn't follow this time.