6

The world was coated with white, still, when Blacktuft opened his eyes to the new day. His body was quivering with stiffness from the cold as he raised his head and slowly stretched, his breath catching in his throat. Grousepaw stirred beside him, blinking rapidly and looking up. Blacktuft gave him a few swift licks when he saw the young cat's blue eyes flicker with guilt, not wanting him to feel too bad about falling asleep during the vigil.

The deputy stood up and shook out each paw in turn, watching as his son followed his lead. His heart ached with a fresh wave of grief, and he clenched his jaw, as if that would help to steel him against it. Blacktuft lowered his head and ate some of the snow on the ground, wetting his dry throat, and then turned to face the whole of the Clan. He studied each of them again, trying to consider how best he would assign them, though his mind was blank. He worked his jaws briefly, but nothing could seem to come out. He could see their expectant eyes, and his ears pressed back when he realized he wasn't sure what to say.

It was Trenchstar appearing as if he might do it for Blacktuft that relinquished his throat from the tightness wrapped around it, and Blacktuft broke in before Trenchstar could speak, "Grousepaw! Blackpaw! Torntail! On me for a hunting patrol on the moor. Heatherfoot! Springfeather! Head to Horseplace and scour it for prey."

"I'd like to take Tallear to search for herbs," Redbird announced, poking his head out from the medicine cats' den. He had been there for the vigil, but he had left before some of the other cats to start preparing herbs for them to take, to help prevent greencough from spreading to anyone. "And I'd like everyone to come into my den to take some herbs."

"You may have her," Blacktuft replied with a dip of his head toward the white cat, and he watched as warriors began to move toward the medicine cat's den to take the herbs that Redbird presented. They were all eager to have some; everyone worried that they would catch the cough Lostear had brought into the camp.

Focus on your duties, Blacktuft, the black cat thought to himself, trying to chase away all thoughts of the dark gray tom. Now isn't the time for grief. You have Clans to feed. He slowly made his way over to the medicine cat's den, following the line of warriors who had preceded him. Cats were snatching the herbs and taking them outside, where they could eat them and then wash out the bitter taste with the snow. Blacktuft glanced at the warriors as they passed them, feeling a surge of relief for every single one as they went. He didn't want a single cat to fall victim to something as simple as a cough.

When Blacktuft was able to reach the herbs, he grabbed them in his teeth and carried them out, following the suit of the others. He crouched down in a mound of snow, eating up the herbs before lapping at the snow, shuddering and forcing himself to swallow. "Ready to go?" Torntail asked, padding over to Blacktuft and sweeping his tail along his spine loosely.

Blacktuft looked up and saw the gray tabby's sympathy, and he fought back another pang in his heart. "Yeah," he meowed, then beckoned to Blackpaw and Grousepaw, who looked disgusted by the taste of the herbs in their mouths. He managed a small laugh as they joined him, then patted the snow with his paw. "Have some snow, you two. It helps." Torntail and Blacktuft exchanged an amused look as the two apprentices eagerly ate the snow, and then Blacktuft led the group out of camp.

"When's the next Gathering?" Blackpaw asked, gazing at his father with curious eyes.

"It's not for another moon, Blackpaw," Blacktuft answered him. "Why?"

Blackpaw shrugged and answered, "Springfeather and Gorsenose were talking about it." Blacktuft sensed fear wash over his pelt, and he had to force his fur to remain flat. "And I just wondered when we would go back and see the RiverClan cats again."

Torntail pointed his nose forward, announcing, "You can see them now, Blackpaw." Blacktuft looked up and spotted a group of cats at the shore of the lake, which seemed to have frozen over with the incoming snow. He could make out the gray and silver pelts of Hailwind, Milkeye, and Willowbranch, and he curled his tail slightly. Some of the easy going RiverClan cats, at least. This would be a pleasant venture, he hoped.

"Who are they?" Blackpaw asked, tipping his head to the side, and Blacktuft answered him, pointing to each one in turn with his tail.

"They're all good cats," Blacktuft added when he was finished, and his ears perked when he caught Hailwind's blue eyes turn to him. She stood, leaving a small hole in the ice and heading to the edge of the border, and Blacktuft bounded through the snow to meet her. "Hailwind!" he purred, his tail curling as he slowed to a stop. He brushed muzzles with the silver tabby in greeting, internally glad that RiverClan and WindClan cats could still get along, through everything. His heart remained heavy, as if loaded with rocks, but it was a welcome change from the last couple of days.

Hailwind let out a purr of her own, her eyes turning from one cat to the other as she asked them warmly, "How's the prey running? Well, I hope?"

"Well enough," Torntail grunted with a little smile, halting beside Blacktuft.

Blackpaw and Grousepaw had stuck together until this point; now, Blackpaw ventured forward, watching the foreign cats with round eyes. "I remember you! You were at the Gathering!" he recalled, nodding to Hailwind. He looked at Milkeye, next. "And you, too! You were there!"

Milkeye let out a soft mrrow of laughter and said, "Yes, yes, I was." She sent Blacktuft a fond look. "Your son has a good memory, doesn't he?"

Blacktuft lifted his chin, able to feel a small burst of pride toward Blackpaw. Blackpaw glanced back at Grousepaw, then meowed, "What are you doing in the lake?"

Hailwind answered, this time, "We're fishing. Haven't you ever heard about how RiverClan cats eat fish?"

"Yeah, yeah!" mewed Blackpaw with a tiny nod, gazing at the hole in the lake. "I just… didn't realize that you fished in the lake, too!"

"That we do," Hailwind replied, backing up and moving over to the hole, standing beside it. "It's harder to catch fish under ice, but we can manage!"

Grousepaw shuddered, and Milkeye gave him a curious look. It was Blackpaw who spoke, though, asking, "What is it, Grousepaw?"

Grousepaw tucked his ears back and mumbled, using his paw to dabble at the snow, "I was thinking… I was thinking that… Well, um, I was thinking that the ShadowClan cats must hate having to eat fish. They don't like fish any more than we do, do they?" Blackpaw stuck out his tongue when he thought about it, though he quickly ducked his head and closed his mouth when he received a stern look from Torntail.

Milkeye remarked, "I imagine the ShadowClan cats didn't like it very much, before, but they'd accept it any day! We wouldn't eat rats and toads unless we had to, either. ShadowClan has to eat our fish, so they can live with it."

"Not that it was an easy transfer, though," Willowbranch commented, and the RiverClan cats laughed again.

Blacktuft felt warmth grow in his heart toward these three friendly she-cats, and he dipped his head to them. "May StarClan grant you good hunting. We'd better get back to what our patrol was intended for. We need food, too, after all!"

"Goodbye!" the RiverClan cats called as the WindClan cats turned away, beginning to march back up the slope. "Farewell!"

Blackpaw nudged Blacktuft's shoulder lightly, asking his father, "Why aren't RiverClan cats nice like that all of the time?"

"I don't know, Blackpaw. It's beyond me," Blacktuft responded, with a reward of laughter from Torntail.

His ears perked when Grousepaw suddenly took off, his white-tipped tail streaming after him. Blacktuft felt yet another surge of pride, this time at his other son's good running technique, and he bounded after him. Blacktuft squinted against the harsh glare of the snow and realized what Grousepaw was chasing after: a rabbit, frantically attempting to escape back to its hole. Having a target, Blacktuft shifted his direction, moving to the side of Grousepaw and the bounding prey. He could see Blackpaw and Torntail racing nearby on his periphery.

"Here, Grousepaw, here!" Blacktuft yowled as he ran close to level with the gray and white tom. Grousepaw put on an extra burst of speed, twisting to get around the side of the rabbit and forcing it to run toward Blacktuft. Blacktuft unsheathed his claws, his paws burning against the cold of the snow and struggling to pull out with each step. Yet, here came the rabbit, and as it neared, he plunged forward. It leaped, and he narrowly missed it.

A surge of frustration suddenly flooded Blacktuft, and he cursed angrily, "Mouse-dung!" Grousepaw ran past, spraying snow onto his fur. The rabbit wasn't lost yet, but Blacktuft's motivation seemed to have sapped from him. The distraction wasn't good enough, this time, and a fresh pang of loss spread through his chest, filling him from ears to tail-tip.

What was the point in catching this rabbit if they'd all die of a little cough?

Grousepaw had halted, and Blacktuft could see his chest moving as he ran up to join him. "What happened?" Grousepaw asked him, tucking his ears back and looking up at Blacktuft in irritation. "That was perfect! You should've caught it! Or at least kept running and helped me catch it again!"

"Grousepaw!" Torntail growled before Blacktuft had a chance to reply. He pulled up to join them, giving the young cat a harsh cuff across the ears. "Don't speak to your deputy that way!"

Grousepaw quickly dipped his head, his tail drooping against the snow, and he apologized, "I'm sorry… I just thought we had that rabbit! What're we going to do now?"

Blacktuft fought hard not to flinch at the fear and desperation in Grousepaw's words, and he took a deep breath, sensing more than seeing Torntail's and Blackpaw's gazes upon his pelt. "We'll keep trying," he answered, managing to hold together for this response. He had to hold it together. He cursed himself inwardly again for thinking about letting the rabbit go. They needed it, and they needed him to believe that they would survive. "That's all we can ever do: Keep trying." He flicked his tail and turned, starting to pad away from the burrow the rabbit had vanished into. The others followed him.

The four cats kept searching for prey, all hoping desperately to find something, but nothing seemed to jump out of its burrow. The moor was silent again, except for their breaths, and the blue sky kept it bright and clear. Blacktuft hated every second of the silence. His mind kept jumping back to those green eyes staring back at him from over the edge of the hollow. He found himself clenching and unclenching his jaws multiple times, caught up in his internal anguish. The fact that the one catch they could've had was lost because of him was tugging at his heart, too, and his anger was doubled.

Finally, he had to call it quits. The sun was too high in the sky; nothing would emerge for them at this time of day. The group of them traipsed back to camp, tails lowering with defeat that they had nothing to bring back. Even Blacktuft couldn't hold together his air of confidence. He couldn't stop feeling the disappointment welling up within him.

On their way back, he thought he glimpsed a flash of ginger and black. His ears perked, and he slowed down, squinting across the snowy moor. Patchtail? he thought to himself, his breath catching in his throat and his tail lifting. He shook his head quickly, screwing his eyes shut. No, no. It can't be him. He opened his eyes, heart pounding in his chest, and his tail drooped again. Nothing. Only snow and sky.

"Hey, cheer up," Torntail spoke up softly, giving Blacktuft a nudge on the shoulder, making the black tom turn his head back to look at him. Blacktuft felt a flash of fear. Had Torntail noticed his brief episode? Instead, the gray tabby only meowed, "We'll go out again at dusk and catch something. Promise."

"Pray StarClan gives us the opportunity," Blacktuft whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. He looked ahead, focusing on the entrance to the camp with his ears lying flat. "We need their help."

Blackpaw moved toward the two warriors, meowing, "Well, maybe the cats at Horseplace caught something!"

Torntail nodded to Blackpaw and looked at the WindClan deputy. "Exactly," he purred. "I'm sure they've got something for us to eat, tonight."

"For the ThunderClan cats to eat," Blacktuft corrected him as they stepped into camp.

He saw the doubt flicker in Torntail's eyes as the tom replied, "For ThunderClan and ShadowClan to eat. Don't forget that."

Blacktuft blinked, feeling a stab of pain in his heart as he lowered his head, the fight draining out of his paws and staying behind in the snow. He didn't respond to Torntail, heading over to the badger set. He leaped inside, heading toward the back of it and lying down. He curled up, tucking his tail over his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He fluffed up his fur, trying to warm himself in vain.

"Blacktuft?" called a voice, and he opened his eyes and saw Blackpaw's head in the entrance, surrounded by the white light of day. The young cat stepped into the set, padding across the small, hollowed space. Blackpaw settled down beside Blacktuft, and Blacktuft uncurled so Blackpaw could turn into a ball of fluff against his side. He curled back around Blackpaw, beginning to groom his son's fur.

"We'll be okay," Blacktuft whispered to Blackpaw, flicking his tail against Blackpaw's flank. "I promise I know that."

Blackpaw closed his eyes, his ear turning back toward Blacktuft and twitching as he listened to him speak. He mewed softly, "I miss Lostear… I even miss picking out all his ticks."

"Me too, Blackpaw," Blacktuft rasped, his throat tightening with grief. He had to face it, here and now, no matter how hard he had been trying to push it back. "I miss him too."

Blackpaw glanced over at his father and meowed, "Maybe you'll see him again when you receive your nine lives. You'll see StarClan, won't you?"

Excitement dazzled through Blacktuft's pelt, but it didn't last. The moment ended as quickly as it had begun, and he responded softly, "Medicine cats haven't gotten a glimpse of StarClan since I was born. They don't even travel to the Moonpool anymore, Blackpaw. Besides, for me to have nine lives would mean that Trenchstar would have to…" He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as fear seized him again. Who knew how many lives Trenchstar had left? The dark tabby had certainly lost some to the sickness at its peak, hadn't he? Blacktuft narrowed his eyes, trying to remember, but… he couldn't recall Trenchstar losing any lives. Maybe he still had nine?

Blackpaw closed his eyes again and murmured, "Are you scared of becoming leader?"

"Is it that obvious?" Blacktuft inquired with a slightly anxious chuckle.

Blackpaw mumbled, "Well… even if it is, your secret's safe with me."

A deep purr rumbled in Blacktuft's throat. He nuzzled the top of Blackpaw's head, murmuring, "Thanks, Blackpaw."

Blackpaw and Blacktuft went quiet for a short time, Blacktuft's purr eventually ceasing as he settled. It was nice to have Blackpaw at his side; the young cat's warm flank helped chase away the freeze outside. Blacktuft liked curling about him, anyway. He felt like he had a chance to protect him from all the dangers of life in the Clans. So many dangers… Blackpaw was the one who broke the silence, though his voice was still quiet as he mewed, "Why are you afraid of being leader?"

Blacktuft rolled the question around in his mind. So many answers to that question… "I'm afraid…" he started out, though he wasn't sure how to begin. "I'm afraid because I'm not sure I could do it. I don't think I could handle Cloudstar and Troutclaw with the measured dignity that Trenchstar has. I don't think… I don't think I can keep the Clan calm and respectful. Did you see what happened after the Gathering? The cats were next to spitting in my direction. Redbird had to come to my defense to let me have a word in edgewise."

"Oh… I see," whispered Blackpaw, his eyes thoughtful as he considered what he was being told.

Blacktuft groomed Blackpaw with a bit more vigor, wanting to stow his feelings into the action. "I fear for my Clan, Blackpaw," he whispered. "That's why I'm afraid. I fear that I will bring WindClan to ruin."

"I think everyone would be afraid," Blackpaw remarked softly, glancing up at Blacktuft. "I would be, anyway…"

"You would be?" Blacktuft replied gently, his heart warming toward his son.

Blackpaw nodded, turning his head to look at him again with those yellow eyes so much like Blacktuft's own. He went on, "Everyone's looking at you to get them out of all their problems. That's gotta be scary."

Blacktuft smiled a little, the pain in his heart easing a bit. He ceased grooming his pelt to stare into Blackpaw's eyes. He purred softly, "You're such a humble cat, Blackpaw. I wish I had been more like you, when I was an apprentice."

"What was it like when you were an apprentice…?" Blackpaw inquired, suddenly becoming curious at the sentiment.

"Hm… I can definitely tell you what I was like," Blacktuft laughed. "I was rambunctious and squirrely until the end. I thought I could do anything in the world. I thought for sure that StarClan had ordained me for something!" He shook his head. "What foolish thinking. I was a normal cat, just like everyone else. Just like I am, now. But I met Patchtail, so I guess it was worth it."

Blackpaw shifted and nodded, burrowing his muzzle in his paws. He glanced up at Blacktuft, then whispered, "I bet you miss him, huh? Tallear told me who he is..."

Blacktuft murmured affirmatively, and he wondered if he should tell Blackpaw the same that he had told Tallear and Lostear. No, no… Blackpaw didn't need to know about all that. He needed to believe that his father was strong. Lostear had been determined to say that Blacktuft wasn't crazy, but… Lostear wasn't here anymore, was he? Blacktuft swept his tail along Blackpaw's flank, letting out a sigh through his nose. He slid out from beside the young cat, murmuring, "I should start pulling together the fresh-kill to take to ShadowClan. We'll be going extra far, today, and we should probably get moving soon."

"Can I come with you? I want to see ShadowClan!" gasped Blackpaw, leaping onto his paws and lifting his tail.

Blacktuft felt guilty about having to shoot down the excitement in his eyes, but he also experienced an acute fear that was stronger than the guilt. He didn't want to expose Blackpaw to any part of the sickness. He shook his head, telling him gently, "I'm sorry, Blackpaw, but you should stay here. Besides, I need you and Grousepaw to rest. You two have been hunting and patrolling non-stop for the past few days. And you went to the Gathering."

Blackpaw protested indignantly, "But Blacktuft! I don't feel like I need to rest! I could run out there, just fine!"

Blacktuft mewed, firmer, "You're staying in camp, Blackpaw." He trotted out from the badger set, his tail snaking after him. "When you're older, you'll travel to ThunderClan territory enough that you'll become sick of it. And ShadowClan? You won't want to travel all that way, either!" Blackpaw pouted, but Blacktuft turned his head away, raising his own tail so Blackpaw would know that he wasn't about to change his mind.

Blacktuft twitched his ear when he heard Blackpaw mumble an "Okay," and proceeded into the clearing. There, he discovered Heatherfoot and Springfeather, setting down a few mice on the fresh-kill pile upon their return. Blacktuft swished his tail. It still wasn't enough.

The black tom glanced over his starving Clan, assessing who had the most strength for another outing. "Hollowpelt!" he called to the black and white tom, who lifted his head from where he'd been dozing, halfway covered in snow. "Gorsenose, you come with me, too. We're going to Horseplace to try for more catches." He looked down at the measly pieces of prey on the fresh-kill pile, feeling a stab of frustration. Even their capture of Horseplace hadn't been enough, with the moor so empty!

Blacktuft took a deep breath, allowing the anger to flow into his paws as he bounded out from the camp, making his way toward Horseplace with the two other toms in tow. He wanted to let himself dwell in it in a moment where it could harm no other cat. When he arrived at the old barn, he could feel the fires die down within him, freeing his mind from the clutches of his frustration.

He slowed down and trotted to the hole between the barn doors, crouching down and worming his way inside. He let out a small huff and shook out his paws when he had squeezed through to the other side, his belly burning slightly from the scrape. Hollowpelt appeared through the gap, Gorsenose sticking his nose in after him before pushing his broader shoulders on through.

Blacktuft opened his jaws, inhaling and feeling his mouth water at the musty scent of mice. He flicked his tail to one side and then to the other, and Gorsenose and Hollowpelt split up, their pelts darkening among the shadows as they began their hunt for prey. Blacktuft relished in the darkness of his own pelt, glad that it would help him in this environment. He stood out starkly against the whiteness of the snow, outside. Perhaps he would have more luck in here, where his fur worked to his favor instead of against him.

The soft squeaking of a mouse made his ears twitch. He twisted them forward, listening carefully, and dropped down low. He worked to remember what the ThunderClan cats had taught him, in the past, when ThunderClan cats were only weak and had the capability to hunt with WindClan cats to improve their chances of catching prey. Blacktuft remembered those days with fondness. Feelings were turning icy again between the two Clans, since Snowstar had begun to openly denounce StarClan, but there had been a time when the barrier was nigh meaningless. For a young Blacktuft, it had meant new friends and new opportunities to learn. As he grew older, though, he discovered it had also meant more pain and suffering as he watched those friends and extra mentors die off, leaving him helpless.

Blacktuft chased away the pangs, which only dug deeper into his side from his recent loss of his father. He took a deep breath, hating that he kept letting his thoughts run all around, bouncing this way and that through his mind. Everything seemed to spring up unbidden, recently. It had only worsened in recent days.

He set each paw down with care, balancing his weight between them. It wasn't hard to keep from being heard by stepping on something that could snap, especially considering how light he was. What was difficult was keeping his paws from shaking while he did it. The smell of prey was only making him feel weaker, and he feared he wouldn't be able to hold down even a mouse, if it came down to it. His wounds certainly didn't help.

Blacktuft spotted a small brown shape skittering over the hay spilled onto the ground before stopping, washing its small ears and twitching its whiskers. It turned its head this way and that, and Blacktuft narrowed his eyes to help himself remain undetected for longer. A pause. He slowed himself to a stop, curling his claws to try to cease the trembles. He crouched, feeling the power in his haunches strung up and excited for release. Then, pulling in another slow, cautious breath, he pounced, his paws reaching before him, landing upon the creature and pinning it to the ground. He bent down, grabbing its neck in his teeth and pressing down hard, earning a satisfying crunch.

Hollowpelt blew past Blacktuft, knocking the deputy off his paws. He didn't glance back, however, too focused on the mouse he was trying to catch. Gorsenose, spotting the incoming tom, leaped into the chase, cutting off the prey and allowing Hollowpelt to dive upon it and kill it. Gorsenose rose, letting out a snort as Hollowpelt turned toward Blacktuft, hurrying to his side and reaching to nudge him to his paws. "Are you okay, Blacktuft?" the black and white warrior asked, tucking his ears back and lowering his tail.

"I'm fine, Hollowpelt," Blacktuft reassured him with a wince, his limbs suddenly feeling full of soreness. Lead had dropped into his paws. He closed his eyes, flicking Hollowpelt's shoulder with his tail. "You surprised me, that's all."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hollowpelt's concern seemed to grow from the way the WindClan deputy wilted.

Blacktuft nodded and turned away from him, padding toward the other end of the barn. Frustration was restlessly expanding within his chest again. Why did Hollowpelt have to run into him? The black cat could feel the exhaustion rising inside, making him dizzy. He shook his head roughly and tasted the air for prey, wishing he could feel steady on his paws. He crouched when he heard another mouse shuffling through the barn, close to an odd wooden thing that rose toward the ceiling, gaping holes within its length. The black cat could feel eyes on him as he crept toward the small creature, and anger opened its fiery mouth again. He wished that Hollowpelt would just leave him alone. He was fine! Sure, he was unsteady, but he'd recover soon! His tail-tip threatened to twitch, and Blacktuft had to force himself not to let it. All that restless energy within him should be used on the prey, he told himself, not on petty things. Blacktuft's claws twitched and he sprang, baring his teeth as if that mouse had been the source of every upsetting thing within his life, up until that point.

But as he landed, Blacktuft's paw slipped out from underneath him, and he let out a yelp as he crashed onto his side, stars and black dots swimming in his vision. Weakness swarmed over him, and he closed his eyes as he heard Hollowpelt and Gorsenose rush to his side. He vaguely understood that the two toms were arguing over something, but he couldn't identify what or why.

Blacktuft felt jaws pull onto his scruff and felt some cat's pelt beneath him, his tail drooping over the warrior's frame limply. He felt his consciousness struggling, struggling, and then, slowly, it all slipped away, and darkness rushed to his aid. He was pulled into its warmth and its comfort, both of which had been ripped from him.

His eyes were blurry when he attempted to open them again, but he was certain he spotted branches over his head. Green blobs that sharpened slightly to appear like leaves. He closed his eyes again, and when he opened them once more, he caught a glimpse of the shine of water. When he turned his head slightly, he faintly made out the glimmers of sunlight catching onto a clear stream, no longer dark against any snow, but surrounded by grass. He closed his eyes and surrendered, and the warmth and comfort slipped away with him.