Rising Moon

Jedi Goat

Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors.

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Chapter 25

Moonpaw split up from Wolfspirit, Honeydew and Ashfur, slipping through the bushes after the scent of prey.

She paused by a brook coated with a thin sheen of ice. Raising her head, she sniffed the air. Here, a thick, musty odor drifted from the pines on the other side of the stream. ShadowClan territory.

Moonpaw shook away memories of Russetfur's death, here on the border, and peered through the grass. A mouse was scuffling nearby. She bunched her muscles, focused, and leaped.

Moonpaw landed right on top of her prey, trapping it between her paws. She quickly ended its life with a bite to the neck. Then she scraped dirt over the mouse and padded onward.

A strong, overpowering stench of blood wafted over from a thick, gnarled tree hunched over the stream. Curious, Moonpaw approached the tree, brushing aside the long grass at its base.

She gasped at what she saw; the shiny Twoleg trap, encrusted with dried blood, was half buried in the soil.

Was someone trying to hide the truth about Russetfur's mysterious death?

A hiss was Moonpaw's only warning before a bundle of dark tabby fur slammed into her. Claws sunk into her sides like thorns as she wrestled against her attacker.

"Get off our territory!" the dark brown she-cat snarled in her ear.

Moonpaw dimly recognized the voice, though it had hardened in anger. "Marshpaw?"

She yelped as the ShadowClan she-cat stabbed her claws in harder.

"It's Marshpelt, thank you very much," the angry cat spat. "Now get lost!"

"This is ThunderClan territory," Moonpaw managed to gasp out.

"Not for much longer." Marshpelt's reply was punctuated by a yowl as she was bowled over. Moonpaw scrambled to her paws, free from her oppressor's grip. Her flanks stung, but she ignored the bleeding and turned to see what had happened.

Nearby, Oakheart tussled with Marshpelt, growling fiercely. The tabby she-cat looked impossibly small and thin compared to the powerful tom. She writhed free of him, fur fluffed up in terror and rage.

All around Moonpaw, the ThunderClan hunting patrol gathered. Thornclaw, Whitedove and Birchhollow were glaring down at Marshpelt, eyes narrowed and claws scratching the ground.

"Is there only one ShadowClan warrior?" This came from Thornclaw, padding protectively closer to her. Moonpaw nodded shakily, twisting around to swipe her tongue over her wounds.

There was a crack of ice and Moonpaw whirled around, horrified, to see the two dueling cats disappear into the water.

"Oakheart!" she gasped.

In a heartbeat Moonpaw was at the water's edge, peering through the ice. Her heart pounded in her chest. Oakheart, no!

A very wet tabby scrambled out of the stream, shrieking. Marshpelt's fur lay plastered to her body, and she was shaking in terror. With a yowl Whitedove charged at her, claws outstretched. Marshpelt skidded across the ice and vanished into ShadowClan territory.

"Good riddance," Whitedove snarled after her.

Moonpaw turned downstream and bounded along the bank, eyes searching the ice frantically. "Oakheart?"

Birchhollow raced after her, blocking her path. He touched her side with his tail-tip. "There is nothing we can do," he murmured solemnly.

Moonpaw choked back a sob, closing her eyes. He is in the paws of StarClan now. Please help him!

Oakheart felt the shock of cold as he plunged into the water. Immediately he released the ShadowClan she-cat, and she struggled upward. He pushed at the current with his paws, trying to swim to the surface. One of the she-cat's back paws caught him across the face, and he fell back, stunned.

Oakheart felt the water whisper around him as he sank back down, the current swirling around him with a touch as cold as a sheet of sleet. He felt so small and weak, buffeted endlessly by the stream, darkness closing around him.

Can't…breathe… A wave of panic engulfed him, and he worked his paws frantically, trying to swim. The dark, watery landscape all looked the same. Which way was up?

Can't…

His nose bumped against something; a hard, frozen surface. The bottom? The ice? Oakheart didn't know and didn't have time to find out. His insides burned for air.

…can't…

A sweet scent swirled around him, of herbs and flowers. It reminded him of Moonpaw, making him struggle harder. I can't leave her!

He was moving. He could imagine two cats, swimming at his sides, grasping his fur and dragging him forward. Oakheart was too out of it to ponder who, or why, they were here.

One of the cats, dark as the shadows closing in on him, surged upward. Oakheart could vaguely hear something shatter through the ringing in his ears. The two cats grabbed him and hauled him up. Light burst and shimmered around him. Fresh air slammed into him and Oakheart drew in several heaving breaths, coughing.

"Oakheart!" His two saviors slipped back down into the ice as a black she-cat raced up. He felt himself being pulled all the way from the water, and then dragged over onto soft grass.

"Oakheart, please, answer me!" Moonpaw's voice was frantic.

He was freezing, too cold to respond. The air's icy claws pierced his soaking pelt. Suddenly he felt a warm tongue rasping over his face.

"Moonpaw?" he gasped, choking up a mouthful of sea water. The fire in his lungs was receding slowly.

Moonpaw sighed in relief. He heard her murmur, "I'll take him back to camp. You guys keep going."

The patrol, he vaguely remembered.

He could see a white cat approaching. "Take care, my brother," Whitedove said softly, nosing his fur. Oakheart gave a shuddering breath and coughed up more water.

Moonpaw licked his ear and guided him to his paws, curling her tail around his shoulders. Together, they made their way back toward the camp.

To be continued...

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