Bluestar paced back and forth in her den, pausing periodically to glance at the slowly darkening sky outside. It had been several hours since Fireheart had taken the patrol with the poisoned fresh-kill to Snakerocks, and they still hadn't returned. She tried to tell herself that she was overreacting, that Fireheart was only taking a long time because he wanted to ensure that every last dog was dead before coming home. But no matter what, she couldn't erase the image of her kit being torn to shreds by a massive brute of a dog from her mind.

StarClan, don't take him, please. Please just let him return home safely, she begged silently.

Her son was strong, she knew, but she couldn't help worrying about him. After all, Fireheart was certainly no stranger to life-threatening situations either. He had almost died multiple times already, even ending up unconscious for several days after the battle with ShadowClan during his apprenticeship. So far, he had gotten lucky, but Bluestar knew he wouldn't be so fortunate forever. All it would take was a single wrong move and she would lose her youngest kit.

Finally growing too exhausted to pace any longer, Bluestar curled up in her nest, glancing half-heartedly at the mouse Whitestorm had brought to her den earlier. Mice had always been one of her favorite meals, second only to voles, and most of the time she would never pass one up. Today, however, she was too sick with worry to even think about eating. How could she when her son could very well have walked to his slaughter today?

She couldn't even bring herself to sleep, terrified that in doing so, she would receive a message from StarClan confirming Fireheart's death. Even if she was destined to lose him, Bluestar knew she would much rather spend as much time in denial as possible. It wouldn't make her feel any better in the long run, of course, but at least she would get to spend a little more time thinking that her kit was alive and well.

I didn't even say goodbye to him properly, Bluestar thought, her eyes welling up. She sniffled. I didn't wish him luck, I didn't...didn't tell him I loved him. What–what if I never get to say it again?

She shook her head, trying to fight back the tears threatening to spill over. There was no point in wallowing in misery or self-pity now. Fireheart wasn't dead yet as far as she knew; until she had seen his body with her own eyes, it wouldn't do any good to mope around. The rest of her warriors still needed her, and she had learned long ago that brooding over a loss didn't help anyone.

Not that she was particularly good about following that particular rule, of course.

Well, she would just have to make sure to tell her kit how much he meant to her when he returned home with the rest of the patrol. That way, she could rectify her mistake.

Lost in thought, Bluestar almost didn't notice when a small commotion arose from outside her den. Curious and more than a little apprehensive, she rose to her paws and padded outside to see what was going on. A group of warriors had gathered at the entrance to the camp, their tails flickering about excitedly as they talked to someone–or perhaps a group of someones–that Bluestar couldn't quite make out. Feeling a spark of hope in her chest, she walked forward until she was just a few tail-lengths away from the group.

As she walked forward, her warriors parted to let her pass through. Bluestar's heart leaped with mingled joy and relief when she saw her son and the rest of the patrol standing at the edge of the gorse tunnel. They were noticeably exhausted, but their eyes were clear and their pelts sleek and unmarked. When Fireheart's gaze met hers, Bluestar felt tears beginning to form behind the corner of her eyes again.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered, giving him several swift licks to his ears.

"Well, of course. Why? Do you really have such little faith in me?" Fireheart asked jokingly. Behind the humor, however, Bluestar could see a sense of mingled weariness and guilt in his eyes. More softly, he added, "I'm glad it's over, though."

"Are the dogs gone?" Bluestar asked, deciding to switch over to more businesslike matters for both of their sakes.

Fireheart nodded. "Sandstorm and Swiftrunner left the poisoned fresh-kill outside their den–or whatever you want to call it–and they ate it up within heartbeats," he told her. "Once we were sure that every last dog was dead, we decided to remove their bodies. That's why it took us so long to get back–you wouldn't believe how heavy they were! Even with all of our strength combined, it took us forever to move them."

Bluestar was about to ask where they had left the dogs' bodies when she found herself being nearly knocked off her paws as Squirrelpaw, Rainpaw, Redpaw, and Spotpaw came barrelling past her in an attempt to get to their parents. Chuckling to herself, she watched as Fireheart and Sandstorm were tackled to the ground by their kits, all four of them jumping up and down excitedly.

"You did it! You came back!" Squirrelpaw shouted gleefully.

"See? I knew Mom and Dad would beat those dogs!" Redpaw boasted.

"Hey, now!" Fireheart meowed, laughing. "We're glad to see you too, but we need to breathe here."

The four apprentices quickly got off of their parents but didn't move, and instead continued to badger Fireheart and Sandstorm with questions. Out of the corner of her eye, Bluestar noticed with a twinge of amusement that the rest of the patrol was receiving the same treatment from their families as well. Cinderheart was surrounded by her littermates and mother, her blue eyes shining as she recounted the tale of her adventure. Goldenflower was fussing over Swiftrunner, who looked torn between resignation and happiness. Brindleface had approached Sandstorm and was murmuring gently in her daughter's ear. Ravenflight and Dustpelt didn't have any particularly close relatives left alive, but the two brothers seemed content with seeking solace in each other.

Eventually, the Clan dispersed as everyone went back to their normal activities. Once they were gone, Bluestar turned to Fireheart and flicked her tail for him to follow her back to her den. After all that had happened, she still wanted a chance to talk to her kit in private. Even though she knew he was safe, the fear of never seeing him again was still making her heart twist painfully, as though it were being clawed by an enemy warrior.

"Mother?" Fireheart asked curiously. "Are you okay?"

Bluestar nodded, a lump forming in her throat. "I was so worried about you," she whispered, her voice choking up. "When you didn't come home all day, I thought–I thought–"

Unable to finish, she buried her muzzle into her kit's forehead again. She felt Fireheart press himself comfortingly against her, just as he had done when he was still a tiny kit and she felt overwhelmed by Clan troubles. Of course, back then he was too small to reach any higher than her legs.

"I'm not going anywhere," Fireheart meowed softly. "I promise."

"I love you," Bluestar meowed, her voice slightly muffled, relieved beyond belief that she still had a chance to say it.

Fireheart purred softly, the sound tugging almost painfully at Bluestar's heart. "I love you too, Mama."

Thank you, StarClan...thank you for sending him back to me.

Suddenly, another thought crossed Bluestar's mind as she finally pulled back. "Fireheart? Where did you say you left the dogs' bodies again?"

Her son's eyes widened. "Oh, er, about that..."

Tigerstar strode through ShadowClan's forest–his forest–scanning the trees for any sign of prey. It had been a long day of running his Clan, and he felt that he deserved some time to himself. Being a Clan leader was everything he had ever dreamed it would be, but it was also exhausting at times, especially when his warriors kept coming up to him with easily answerable questions. Just that afternoon, Jaggedtooth had asked him if he thought Rowanpaw was ready for an assessment.

"That's your decision," Tigerstar had replied curtly. "You're his mentor, after all–unless you need me to hold your paw."

"O-of course," Jaggedtooth had stammered. "I'm sorry to waste your time. I just thought–"

But the dark tabby had turned around and left before he had a chance to finish his sentence.

Pathetic, Tigerstar thought scornfully as he pounced on a rat that had been unfortunate enough to stray across his path. You would think that ShadowClan cats wouldn't need to run to me over everything. Are they not capable of taking care of themselves? At least in ThunderClan, warriors knew what was expected of them and didn't need Bluestar to tell them how to do their duties.

Briefly, he wondered how Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw were faring. He hadn't seen any sign of his kits since he demanded them to be handed over to ShadowClan, and he had a feeling that Goldenflower, Bluestar, and Fireheart had ordered their mentors to keep them away from the ShadowClan border. Anger pricked at his pelt at the injustice of it all. Regardless of what he had done, they were his kits as well, and nobody had any right to take them away from him.

As he drew closer to the border, a foul stench suddenly threatened to knock the breath out of him. Tigerstar curled his lip in disgust. It smelled as though all the prey in the forest had gathered inside his territory and decided to drop dead right then and there. The air positively reeked, and for a moment, the ShadowClan leader had to fight to keep his fresh-kill from making a reappearance.

What in StarClan's name is that smell?

Eager to find the source of the stench so he could get rid of it, Tigerstar walked over in the direction it was coming from. As soon as he saw what it was, he froze. Lying on the ground, just inside ShadowClan territory, were the rapidly-cooling bodies of six massive dogs. Their eyes were still open but glazed, filled with a mixture of fear and hatred.

Upon seeing this horrifying sight, Tigerstar promptly did the first and only reasonable thing that came to mind.

He screamed.

Okay, this chapter was going to be all warm and heartfelt, but I couldn't resist making it into a joke at the end. But hey, the plan worked and Fireheart got a chance to pull a prank on Tigerstar–or, well, the entirety of ShadowClan, really–so all's well that ends well.

Thanks for reading!

-TheShadowedWarrior