Chapter thirteen, Never.

The entire forest was cloaked in black, and the wind was strong, whipping up anything that didn't have a hold to the ground. The normal blanket of Silverpelt was blacken by a cover of clouds, leaving the forest below without much. The only things to be heard were the wind, and whatever it could toss. Amongst the havoc, at the bottom of a ravine and next to a time weathered plant wall, was a stone-motionless cat, its near white fur constantly being pulled by the wind.

The she-cat was posted next to the wall of Thunderclan camp, taking shelter from a large tree. She was the second watch posted that night, the first being Cloudtail and Lostface. Sandstar didn't like the idea of having two a recently scared cat as the night lookout, but Cloudtail insisted she was up to it, and Sandstar didn't want to waist too much time arguing with the new warrior. If Sandstar hadn't seen Lostface win sparing against Cloudtail, she would have never agreed. It was good to see the arrogant tom support her. She had never seen Cloudtail this dedicated to anything.

Sandstar stared into the shaded forest, watching the darkness fight with the storm. The battle was fierce, repelling everything living from leaving the comfort of its nest. Sandstar felt like the very paws of Starclan were trying to drive Sandstar back to her nest. But, even with the precaution of a storm, Sandstar felt like she shouldn't leave Thunderclan without some forewarning to any threats. Bloodclan, the new and dangerous clan that demanded the whole forest, was just beyond the Thunderpath. They had already taken over Shadowclan territory, forcing Shadowclan into Riverclan. If Tigerstar was still alive, he wouldn't have let them flee so easily.

It was only yesterday the great warrior had been trying to bully all the clans into one. . Tigerstar had brought Bloodclan to try to convince Thunderclan and Windclan to join with Tigerclan, effectively giving Tigerstar command of the whole forest, even if he had claimed that the leaders would "Rule equally". But Sandstar knew Tigerstar better than that. He would kill to lead, and nothing would make him want to share his leadership. Only death would stop the warrior. It astounded Sandstar how quickly he had lost his nine lives.

He let his lust get to him, his unrelenting craving for power control him. He released a beast into the forest that threatened to kill them all. Scourge and his clan. Sandstar didn't need to guess how lethal he was. When Bloodclan didn't obey Tigerstar, he attacked Scourge. Scourge easily sidestepped him, flipped him onto his back, then cut him open from neck to tail. Tigerstar bleed, and his life quickly left him. Sandstorm could barely watch at the once great warrior bleed to death multiple times. Starclan tried to heal him, but the gash was too great for the healing trance. He repeatedly fell back into the trance, each time as successful as the last. He got his last act in life. In a blooded rage, he leaped at his offender, attacking like the cat he was named for. But the attack was ineffective. He only scuffed the side of Scourges shoulder, leaving more of his blood than a mark. Scourge struck again, smashing Tigerstar's head into the ground and crushing everything in Tigerstar's neck.

It was a gruesome scene that Sandstar never wanted to see again, and made her already strong belief in the warrior code stronger. She wished that Starclan hadn't healed him so he would only die once. Even with what he had done, no cat deserved what Tigerstar got. Sandstar could only look on, unable to do anything about what was happening before her. She could only watch him bleed out, until his battle blooded body was simply the husk of the cat that had lived a moment before. Then scourge's unflinching stare locked on her, and Sandstar couldn't help to feel like he was sizing up his next target.

He had given them three days. Three days to either face his clan in open battle, or leave the forest forever. But, even in light of those three days, Sandstar couldn't shake the feeling that an attack was imminent. So she would post a guard every night to ensure the clan had the best chance against an attack. She didn't want to do it. Her warriors were already worn thin due to the thinning prey and all the extra training and precautions for the battle that was sure to come. Almost no cat got a moment to rest, even the queens and elders. If the apprentices weren't taking care of the elders, they were training. If they weren't training, they were gathering supplies. The same went for the warriors, and then some. But Sandstar knew they would have to be ready to face Scourge. She would not let her clan get driven out without a fight.

The storm began to die down, and the wind started to lessen. Sandstar shivered. Her coat wasn't the best suited for standing guard in a gale. But no cat was perfectly protected from strong winds. She was grateful that it was slowing. She bent down and stretched her legs, and opened her mouth to swallow as much air as she could. It was only after she had spent time standing guard in the wind that she realized how tired she was.

She heard the gorse of the gorse tunnel shake, and Whitestorm appeared from the entrance. He looked up at the sky. "Do you think it will rain?" he asked Sandstar. Sandstar didn't look at him. "Only Starclan can tell."

He sat down next to her, and gave her a worried look. It wasn't something Sandstar was use to seeing in her old mentor. It unsettled her. "Did you have something to tell me?" She asked him. Sandstar wondered why he wasn't asleep. He had been up all day working on the camp so Sandstar could train the kits.

"Yes, actually. I wanted to talk to you about Bloodclan." He said. Sandstar didn't like how that sounded.

"What about Bloodclan?"

"I was thinking, should we fight Bloodclan at all?" He said carfully.

"Are you saying we should give up our home? Do you really want us to leave?" Sandstar was surprised. Our of all her warriors, Whitestorm was one of the only cats she thought wouldn't doubt fighting Bloodclan. He was the most loyal cat any leader could want.

"No. That's not what I want. I'm willing to fight. It's just… Is it really worth the price to try to take on Scourge. Tigerstar couldn't even leave a claw mark in him, and he had nine lives, And even if Windclan join us for the fight, his clan out-numbers us. I know that Thunderclan will fight to the last drop of blood to defend the forest. I have never doubted any of their courage, nor my own. But there's a lot at stake. Win or lose, not every cat is going to make it out of the fight alive. There will be blood-shed, and lots of it… … I want to know if keeping the forest would be worth that risk."

Sandstar bit down her 'coward' remark, closed her eyes, and thought about it, trying her best to be a good leader. Whitestorm was right. Even if they drove Scourge and his group of out-casts from the forest, cats were going to die, cats that Sandstorm couldn't lose and live on. And if he did kill Thunderclan and Windclan's warriors, there was no telling what he would do with the queens, kits, and elders.

Sandstar didn't want to give in. She knew she would use every life Starclan could give her to fight of Scourge, something all of her warriors would do as well. They were fierce, loyal, and proud of their clan. But Sandstar felt a vibrant shard of doubt fall into her heart. Her stomach ached with the thought of having to bury any of her clan mate that died fighting a battle that she had ordered them to fight, when she could have prevented it by leaving. Whitestorm had brought he a terrible point.

She thought back to the previous leader, Bluestar. What would she do? She would have the answer. She could handle any situation. If anyone had the answer…

But if Bluestar had the answer, she was being quiet about it. Cinderpelt hadn't reported any message from Starclan, nor did Sandstar have one herself. Starclan wouldn't abandon them. Sandstar was sure of it. Did they not know, or care? Or did they want it to fall to Sandstar? Sandstar searched hard for an answer in herself. Who of all cats could she turn to?

She remember Fireheart, the large, ginger tom that had been the deputy before Sandstar. She remembered his unfaltering face, and his strong will. She remembered how he'd always present a strong face in the presence of doubt, even with the troubles he endured that. Sandstar wouldn't have known that Bluestar had fallen into insanity, lashing out at any cat who spoke to her and talking of treachery from her whole clan. Fireheart protected the clan from their fading leader, and inspired them with hope for her recovery from a sickness she no longer had. He even had Starclan hounding him. Cinderpelt had told Sandstar about Firehearts prophetical dreams. Spottedleaf would bring him glances of the future, giving Fireheart both the warning and the torment that came with it.

But, most importantly, she remembered he was willing to risk everything for what he believed. He was forced to care for an enemy warrior since he wouldn't let her die, subjected himself to the humiliation re-apprenticeship so he could feed a starving clan other than his own. He went behind the clans laws to find out what really happened to Redtail, driving the traitorous Tigerstar out of the clan for killing Sandstar's father and attempting to kill Bluestar. He even gave up his place as Thunderclan's deputy to prevent a war between them and Windclan. He always did as he believed.

"I know we have to defend what Starclan gave us. Our home. Our way of life. I believe we should fight. I know Starclan wont fail us. They dictated that the four clans should rule the forest. They will help preserve those clans." Sandstar was dazed at what she said. She was surprised at how much she believed it.

"If you believe that, then I will believe it as well." Whitestorm said. Sandstar's eyes flashed open and her head switched towards the battle-worn tom. "Starclan hasn't abandoned us before. They will surely see Thunderclan through." He said.

Sandstar could hear his courage, she had never doubted it. But with it, a hollowness. Sandstar realized how old he was. Most cats his age would have retired to the elders den. Whitestorm was the oldest warrior in the clan, and was still handling deputy duties. Sandstar could understand why he would consider leaving.

"If… If your were to consider picking a deputy, of all the warriors, which one would you choose?" She said suddenly, not willing to bite her tongue.

"A deputy… Your not thinking of having two deputies, are you?" He said.

"No! Its… well… your…"

"Sandstar, I know your worried about having to pick a new deputy soon. I'm not going to live forever. No cat can escape the claws of death when they reached for. But who you choose to succeed me is up to you. Only you can judge what you need in a deputy."

"Death?! I only meant if you wanted to retire." Sandstar was agape. Had he not considered it?

"Yes, I guess that's an option, too. But that doesn't change my answer."

"But…"

"I can tell that your were appointed deputy before you were ready, and you became leader before you time. But I trust you to make the right decisions. The clan is relying on you, but don't forget that the clan is there to support you as well. Where you lead, we'll follow. Your not alone, Sandstar. You just have a few more jobs than a regular warrior."

"You…" Sandstorm closed her eyes again.

"Its late, and tomorrow will be another long day. You should get some rest. I'll stay here."

"But you'll need some sleep as well."

"I've already slept. Go on. You won't be able to train the kits tomorrow if you can't stand on your own paws."

"Ah…"

"You'll enjoy it, I'm sure."

Sandstar knew she had authority, but she respected his decision. She knew he was right. It be best if she slept.

Whitestorm bowed his head as she passed. "But when you choose a new deputy, don't choose Brindleface. She asked me to tell you not to let you choose her."

"I'll remember that." Sandstorm said lightly.

Nothing made a sound. No wind, no bugs, no cats, nothing. It was a pure silence that no creature could naturally enjoy. It was the dark after a summers day, a light cool that makes one want to stretch out their body and relax . But Fireheart couldn't relax. There was no way to relax. The scenery was hiding a tension. The conditions were right, a balance of comfort and feeling that set Fireheart on edge. What unnerved him the most was that he couldn't feel chill run up his spine, a sense that he could feel the cold that wasn't there, or that he knew of something that was. His nerves were grinding him, unable to tell him if he should feel safe, or afraid.

Then the storm broke. In an instant, a startled call flew up, slamming itself against Fireheart stomach and throwing him off balance. Several others linked themselves to the first, repeating themselves as more came together. They were cats! Fireheart could make out the voices, the only word he could make out was "run!"

Fireheart's first reaction was to run. To run to the cats. To help them in what might be a dire time. He wanted to know what they were running from. He wanted to know if it could be stopped. So he ran. He ran towards the chorus of terrified cats. He ran with strength that was not his own, and a fear threatened to devour him. He knew why he should be afraid, but that wasn't the real reason he was afraid. He was afraid because he didn't know what to be afraid of.

He never made it. He didn't need to. Already, several cats burst forth from an un-seen crevace in the land. Like a fish trying to escape a hunter, cats broke through the seemingly flat land. Some where strong yet lithe looking warriors. Some were queens, and some where the kits that were being carried. But they all were fleeing from something.

Fireheart reeled back onto his hindquarters as one rushed right past him, almost charging into him head on. Another one flew by, scarcely reacting to Fireheart. "Wait!" he called to the cats. He stood up, and dodged a queen in her desperate dash. "Wait! What's happening?! How can I help?!" Fireheart yelled, his fear and worry mixing into agitation.

The cats pushed on, ignoring his pleas to help. They dashed in every which way around Fireheart, trying to escape the unseen danger. Tried to follow them. But, even with all the speed he could muster, he couldn't catch up. He only now felt his heart beat, madly trying to keep him alive. He reached out a claw and stuck it into something wet and cool.

Firehearts eyes flicked open, and his breathing sharpened. Sleep hazed his vision, while panic widened it. Fireheart was solid, everything in his body pulled tight to face something. He was next to his nest, who was, again, filled with Featherpaw. Fireheart forcefully slackened his breathing, trying to calm his chaotic heart. He hadn't fallen asleep on this branch. Fireheart looked down at his forepaw. His front-most claw was stuck into a small ball of moss. He sighed, then slipped it back into its sheath.

Fireheart felt drained. Whatever rest sleep had given him had been sapped by the nightmare. He went over it in his mind. The terrified faces. The unseen threat. What could it mean? Did Starclan warn him of something? Fireheart closed his eyes again and sunk down on the branch. He didn't want to think about it now. He couldn't sleep, though. Not after that.

He let his senses take over his mind. His mouth was dry, but not badly. His body felt hot, but was cooling in the late night atmosphere. He could smell his own scent, which, strangely, wasn't outlined with fear. He could hear Featherpaw breath softly in her sleep. Fireheart didn't want to think about the nightmare. So he let the soothing rhythms of life clear his head and cover him with sleep again.

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