Chapter 3

Mistyfoot wished for rain as she shook humidity from her pelt. Heat clung in the air like a burr, especially in the evening. It was making patrolling harder for ThunderClan – to beat the heat Tinystar ordered patrols only in the early morning and late evening and reports indicated that, in the past two days, every Clan was doing something similar.

"We'll have to take water from the river at this rate," muttered Mistyfoot. "The stream in the training hollow has all but dried."

Oakheart flicked his ear. "I know," he mused. "I'll have to talk with Tinystar about it."

Their patrol was small, and Mistyfoot was glad for it. She enjoyed padding along ThunderClan's well-worn trails with her father. It reminded her of times when Oakheart would take her and her littermates out of camp as kits, to explore some of the forest beyond the ravine – only now it was just Mistyfoot and Oakheart and, of course, Shrewpaw.

Mistyfoot's apprentice was stalking a bird not far away. The two warriors paused to let him practice – even if he didn't catch it, it wasn't as if the heat wave was hurting ThunderClan's prey pile. Every creature was out searching for easy water sources, and that made them vulnerable.

"He's picked up bird stalking very easily," Mistyfoot pointed out, looking at Shrewpaw's form.

Oakheart nodded. "That's one area you always had trouble," he pointed out.

Mistyfoot flicked her ear. "Father!" she huffed, embarrassment pricking her pelt. But in the end, bird stalking was a hard one to master, and Mistyfoot was proud of her apprentice. Birds had the pesky problem of taking flight right when a hunter was about to pounce, unlike shrews or voles or rabbits.

There was a shuffle in the leaf litter, and a grunt of satisfaction. Mistyfoot peered through the undergrowth. Shrewpaw had made his catch, and was proudly padding towards them. The tang of blood touched the air.

"Good catch!" Mistyfoot praised.

Shrewpaw put his catch down. "I smelled another," he mewed. "Can I go after it?" He looked between the two warriors, eyes sparkling with adrenaline.

"Go on," Mistyfoot told him. "Be sure to catch up with us afterward!"

"Thanks!" Shrewpaw's tail curled over his back. He slipped off the trail and back into the overgrown undergrowth.

Mistyfoot lost sight of him, but could hear him rustling in the ferns not far away. Oakheart's whiskers twitched and he began to pad along the trail. Mistyfoot followed.

"You're a good teacher to Shrewpaw," Oakheart mewed. "I'm proud of you."

Mistyfoot blinked gratefully at Oakheart. "Thank you," she meowed, a warm feeling spreading in her chest. "That means a lot."

Oakheart's tail flicked her shoulder. "You're well on your way to taking my place," he purred.

Mistyfoot fluffed up her fur, feeling flustered at the idea. "I-I don't want to take your place!"

Oakheart didn't seem offended. His eyes sparkled as he looked at his daughter. "I'm not the youngest cat in the forest, Mistyfoot. I don't catch birds like I used to. Someone is going to have to take my place."

Mistyfoot turned her eyes to her paws. "I'm not experienced enough yet," she mumbled. The thought of her father growing old made her heart ache. Oakheart had always been there, throughout everything – losing Mosspaw, watching Stonepaw go, through all of the bullying and prejudice that Mistyfoot faced as a kit and apprentice… The idea of him disappearing from her life sooner rather than later made Mistyfoot deeply sad, and frightened of the loneliness that would inevitably follow.

What would she do without him?

A sharp cry pierced the forest. A flock of birds screeched in response, filling the air with the sound of their wings.

"What was that?" Oakheart breathed.

Mistyfoot froze, tail fluffed as fear struck her. "That was Shrewpaw!" she screeched, rushing past her father.

Undergrowth tugged at her pelt and ferns slapped Mistyfoot in the face as she tore through the forest, blowing past ThunderClan's usual trails. Oakheart panted behind her. Another cry pierced the air – not Shrewpaw, but another cat, and closer. Mistyfoot put on speed, narrowly avoiding hazardous roots in her path thanks to muscle memory.

"They're at Snakerocks!" Oakheart meowed, lengthening his stride to run shoulder to shoulder with Mistyfoot. His eyes flashed. "The badger!"

Mistyfoot's heart beat in her ears while her stomach flipped over. "Is there a patrol there?" she panted, leaping over a thin-trunked tree that had fallen over leaf-bare.

Oakheart landed with a grunt, but did not slow his pace. "We've sent scouts to figure out a way to – hah – lure the badger out," he meowed, panting, "but we haven't attacked it yet."

Mistyfoot bristled with alarm. If the badger was still there… Oh no, she thought, thinking back to Sorreltail's warrior ceremony two days ago. Nightpaw and Shrewpaw, talking about taking on the badger… Oh StarClan, no!

Snakerocks loomed through the forest, and Mistyfoot and Oakheart had to skid to a stop. Oakheart coughed into some ferns, heat and effort making him wheeze. Mistyfoot's pelt clung to her body, feeling heavier than a boulder – but she loped up to the edge of Snakerocks and peered through the fern fronds.

The tumble of boulders, overgrown with vines and lichen, stank of badger. Mistyfoot tried not to gag. The stones were often the home for snakes, which liked to hide in the cracks and crevices – but there were a small collection of caves formed by the stones, too, which often hid larger predators. Including the dogs my mother… Bluestar… tried to use to kill ThunderClan.

That was long ago now, but it seemed like Snakerocks was never free of trouble.

Shrewpaw was backed up against one of the stones, bristling to the ends of his fur. The badger was looming over him, snuffling and snarling, scratching at the rocks with her claws. Mistyfoot was, for a moment, stunned – Shrewpaw had a clear avenue of escape. He could easily outrun that badger. Why was he staying?

Movement in the shadows caught Mistyfoot's eye. A small black shape was crouched inside a cracked, hollowed out old log. She saw the white tip of his tail trembling.

Nightpaw!

"Nightpaw is here," Mistyfoot hissed.

Oakheart, now beside her, bristled. "I'll distract the badger – you get the apprentices out of here."

Mistyfoot had no time to protest. Oakheart flung himself into the fray, screeching to get the creature's attention. Mistyfoot followed, her pads scraping against the stony earth.

The badger shifted, confused. She lashed out with a forepaw and almost took Shrewpaw's muzzle with her long claws. Shrewpaw flinched and lashed out himself, catching his claws in her bristling fur.

Mistyfoot opened her jaws to warn Shrewpaw, but the badger let out an annoyed howl and whipped around. One of her broad paws slapped Shrewpaw aside. The small cat bounced off of one of the stones and lay still on the earth.

"Shrewpaw!" screeched Mistyfoot, panic shooting through her limbs.

"Get Nightpaw!" Oakheart yowled, his voice forcing its way into Mistyfoot's head. "Now!"

Mistyfoot turned her head away from Oakheart as he faced the badger, snarling and bristling. She found Nightpaw in the hollow log easily – there was a tang of blood in the air, and only one eye met hers.

"What happened?" she hissed.

Nightpaw crawled out of the log, trembling. There was a cut above one of his eyes – nothing life threatening, but bleeding quite a bit. "I-I was hunting with Dustpelt!" he panted. "I-I saw a shrew run this way a-and…"

"And you followed?!" snapped Mistyfoot. "What were you thinking?"

Nightpaw flinched. "I got turned around and ended up here by accident," he insisted, "I swear by StarClan!"

Mistyfoot had no idea whether or not Nightpaw was telling the truth, but she had no time to figure it out. "Get in the ferns and stay put," she ordered.

Nightpaw didn't argue, for once. He fled, tail tucked, leaving little spatters of blood behind him. Mistyfoot whirled around and leaped back into the fray, claws unsheathed, moving through all she knew about fighting badgers from her days as Tinystar's apprentice.

Oakheart was tired, clearly, his eyes glassy with pain. Mistyfoot saw a cut down her father's side and winced, feeling fear and fury well up in her all at once as she faced the black-and-gray creature.

"She's fierce," Oakheart wheezed. "Be careful."

Mistyfoot nodded. A badger's sight would be just as keen as a cats' in the growing dark.

The badger lumbered forward, growling low in its throat. Mistyfoot hissed and lashed out, catching her claws on the badger's nose. Blood welled up on the badger's striped muzzle, and Mistyfoot felt a flash of satisfaction.

Oakheart snarled and tried to shuffle to the side, tail lashing. The badger caught sight of him, however, and swung her head to snap her jaws. Mistyfoot saw her teeth catch her father's leg, and heard a snapping noise. Oakheart let out a bellow of pain.

Mistyfoot yowled in fury and leaped, digging her claws into the badger's pelt. Tinystar's training flitted through her mind, cut with panic and fury. The badger whirled, turning in circles, trying to dislodge Mistyfoot.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins as Mistyfoot clung. Snakerocks spun all around her, threatening to make her ill – still she clung, knowing that sooner or later something had to make the badger stop. Endurance was all she had.

StarClan help us! She thought.

As if in answer to her prayers, a yowl rose into the growing darkness. "ThunderClan, attack!"

Through the flailing of the badger Mistyfoot spotted Dustpelt, Snowstep, Swiftfoot, and Cloudtail streaming into Snakerocks, claws unsheathed and tails bristling. A whole patrol!

The badger stopped, stunned by all the newcomers. Mistyfoot slithered off of the badger's side, trembling and feeling weak and dizzy from the cloying smells of badger and blood.

Snowstep and Swiftfoot flanked the badger quickly, snapping at her heels. Dustpelt and Cloudtail charged at her headlong, screeching in fury. Terrified, the badger scrambled backwards, crawling desperately over the rocks to escape. Snowstep and Swiftfoot followed, with Cloudtail snapping at her tail.

"Get them out of here!" snapped Dustpelt.

Mistyfoot nodded, still dazed. She watched Dustpelt follow his patrol through the undergrowth before she staggered to her paws, shaking her head to clear it. The adrenaline was fading and clarity was returning – and along with exhaustion, the panic returned.

Shrewpaw! Oakheart!

Her father was closer. He'd dragged himself towards a rock, grunting in pain as he lay in the undergrowth. Blood oozed from his leg and side and his eyes were glazed. Mistyfoot buried her nose in his pelt and began cleaning his wounds with a shaky muzzle.

Oakheart hissed in pain. "I'll be fine," he gasped. "Where's Shrewpaw?"

White hot panic shot through Mistyfoot. She raised her head, her eyes darting from rock to rock, trying to find where Shrewpaw had landed. The sound he'd made when he hit the stone… Oh StarClan, please let him be alive!

A dark shape moved through the area, and for a moment Mistyfoot wondered if the badger had returned – but a flash of white betrayed Nightpaw once again. The small tom was crawling between the stones, and Mistyfoot's eye followed him until he slumped down beside a dark, sodden brown shape.

Shrewpaw.

Mistyfoot stumbled over to her apprentice. "Shrewpaw?" she asked hesitantly.

Nothing.

Nightpaw buried his muzzle into Shrewpaw's ruff. "He's not breathing," the small apprentice whispered. "Oh StarClan… it's…"

It's all my fault, Mistyfoot thought numbly, sinking to her belly. She pressed her muzzle into Shrewpaw's fur. He was still as the stone he'd slammed against, and growing just as cold. Only his fur stirred, and that was with Mistyfoot's own ragged gasps.

All of her energy drained out of her until she felt cold, exposed, and utterly defeated. She slumped against Shrewpaw's body and let out a wail.