Chapter Ten
Rainpaw was roused from a restless sleep by a sharp nudge. He blinked rapidly into a pair of gleaming yellow eyes.
"Can I help you?" he asked, more surprised than irritated. The black and gray streaked pelt resolved itself into Crowtalon. He'd never had cause to even speak to the warrior, let alone be nose to nose with the tom. Crowtalon shot Rainpaw a cool look.
"Blackflash put you on the dawn patrol, so you'd better get up before you make us late." His whip thin tail skimmed Rainpaw's nose as Crowtalon spun around and trotted off to the base of the knoll. Rainpaw followed groggily, still blinking sleep from his eyes. The harsh wind from the previous night was still blowing, reaching chilly fingers even into Rainpaw's thick fur. The landscape of rippling grass looked a uniform dull gray. The sky did as well, growing more and more ominous with each gust of wind.
The patrol was gathered in a tight knot at the bottom of the knoll. Yellowpelt, Saltfeather, and Wavestorm all looked relieved when Crowtalon and Rainpaw joined them. Yellowpelt flicked her tail at the group. "Alright, let's move," she called, and set off at a brisk trot through the thrashing grass. The wind was picking up even further, dragging thick clouds across the already gray sky. Rainpaw lengthened his stride to pull abreast of Crowtalon.
"So where's Tigerfrost?" he meowed. Crowtalon glanced at the apprentice with vague distaste.
"How should I know where he is? Probably off doing secretive things with Froststar," he grumbled.
"So why did I come then?"
"Because Blackflash said you should."
"And why are there no GrassClan with us?"
Crowtalon started running faster. Rainpaw kept pace. He kept wide blue eyes fixed on Crowtalon until the older warrior growled. "Are all apprentices this annoying?"
"I doubt it."
Crowtalon growled again and pushed forward to the front of the patrol. Rainpaw let him go this time. The wind was starting to slice through the group, sending cold into their bones despite the running. Rainpaw alone was suited to the sharp blustering wind with his thick fur, but the others were clearly shivering.
Yellowpelt slowed suddenly, sniffing at the ground. "This is where the border ends," she declared. Rainpaw didn't see anything special about the site, just more grass stretching on to the horizon. Sure enough, though, the loamy scent of the GrassClan markings filled his nose. Crowtalon began marking the area.
"There's got to be a storm coming," Yellowpelt muttered, her strange brown eyes crinkling in a frown. They were a flat glassy dun, like dried mud, but obviously held a sharp intelligence. The brown gaze flicked up and down the horizon, watchful for the smallest of threats. The thick-set she-cat flicked her ears when Crowtalon was done, leading them west. Towards the desert, Rainpaw recalled. He couldn't imagine pushing into such a barren waste. The heat, the emptiness… how would OneClan find water? Or prey? He had no doubt that the army could defeat any feeble little Clan inhabiting the desert, but he harbored doubts as to how OneClan would defeat their own hunger.
A sudden shift in the wind blasted frigid air into the patrol's faces. Saltfeather stopped suddenly. "Do you smell that?" he hissed.
Yellowpelt lifted her flattened face into the wind and took a deep breath. "Rogues," she replied. Her voice held a hint of a growl.
"And fresh blood," Wavestorm agreed.
"Come on, let's go drive them off," Yellowpelt growled. They set off in a run, the wind pushing the dirty smell of the rogues directly into the patrol's faces. Rainpaw's blood was on fire again, tingling with the adrenaline he had felt in that first battle for GrassClan. The scent was close, and getting closer with each step. The patrol pushed through the wildly whipping grass just as the first sprinkles of rain misted to the ground.
There! At the bottom of a small dip in the ground, Rainpaw could make out four dark pelts gorging on what were obviously rabbits. Anger lit in his belly. Those were OneClan's rabbits! What right did the rogues have to steal prey from their territory?
"You, rogues!" Yellowpelt yowled. The four cats in the bowl looked up with glowing eyes. The mist obscured everything, casting their features into shadow. Those eyes though… they cut right through the rain. "You have no right to that prey!"
A tom with eerie, mismatched eyes rose to his feet, showing sharply gleaming fangs. "And?" he asked. His deep voice held a condescending challenge. Yellowpelt snarled.
"Get them!"
The patrol leaped to the attack, barreling down the hill to where the rogues stood waiting. The mist made it difficult to see, but none were concerned—the OneClan cats had the numbers on their side. The wind kept rising, howling through the grass, however, and soon Rainpaw found his sight, smell, and hearing impaired by the gale that was springing to life around them. He was almost surprised to come face to face with a rogue. His dodge was mistimed and earned him a nasty set of scratches across his rump. He slammed into the tom's side but the cat was massive, nearly as large as Tigerfrost. The blow did nothing but distract him from Crowtalon's slash at his muzzle, though at least that sent the tom stumbling back. Rainpaw quickly realized that all of the rogues were built of solid lean muscle, nurtured by regular meals. How they had escaped leafbare's harshness unscathed eluded the apprentice, but it didn't matter. Their opponents were skilled, ferocious, and powerful.
Before Rainpaw could leap to find another opponent he heard a bone-wrenching yowl that seemed to split the mist. A sudden rushing sound assaulted his ears and suddenly curtains of drenching rain pelted the cats. Rainpaw was soaked to the skin in seconds. He heard cruel laughter and another yowl.
"Get the rabbits and let's get out of here," came the first rogue's voice, the one with the mismatched eyes. Ugly laughter rang out from the other three, and suddenly the melee was over and the rabbits were gone. Rainpaw stumbled through the torrent in search of the others in the patrol.
Saltfeather's voice rang out suddenly. "Is everyone alright?" The tom's salt and pepper shadow appeared in the rain. Rainpaw staggered over to him, relieved to have found someone.
"I'm fine," he mewed. The scratches stung, but they weren't bad.
"So am I," Wavestorm chimed in, solidifying out of the thundering rainy gloom.
Crowtalon's growl thundered through the downpour.
"Yellowpelt's not."
~O~
The patrol was slipping and sliding through mud on the way back to the knoll. Wavestorm and Crowtalon were struggling with Yellowpelt's dead weight while Saltfeather scouted ahead. Rainpaw's every sense was on alert, now. The rain still gusted down in sheets from the slate gray clouds. With every squelching step, Rainpaw cursed himself for an idiot.
They had outnumbered the rogues, and yet the rogues had gotten away with hardly a scratch. His inability to act during a simple downpour had cost… well, he didn't want to think about that. Even now, foxlengths ahead of the group, he could hear Yellowpelt's pained moans. Hopefully Moonstream would have the right herbs to heal her wound, whatever it was. He hadn't seen much, but even through the blurring torrent he could tell it was bad.
How had the rogues been so skilled, anyway? The warriors of the OneClan army were supposed to be the best, and yet they had been shamed by the effortless brutality the rogues fought with. Rainpaw had taken their scarred pelts as signs of many battles lost. It had never occurred to him that the scars might be from battles won.
"And if that's what the winners look like, I'd hate to see the other guys," he muttered.
A growl cut through the darkness and the rain. "What are you muttering about, apprentice?" Saltfeather's white patches shone ghostly in the dim light. Rainpaw flicked a sodden tail.
"Nothing. Is the camp far?"
The pelting rain made it difficult to see the shake of Saltfeather's head. "It's close enough. How is she?"
Water filled Rainpaw's eyes as he glanced up towards StarClan. "Doesn't sound good."
Saltfeather was off in moments, leaving the blue gray apprentice to trudge a path through the rain. It took a few minutes of eternity nearly swimming through the sodden grass before he tripped and fell on his face. The knoll! he thought with relief. A glance behind him showed a clump of shadows struggling closer. Sure enough, the ring of brambles waited only foxlengths up the slope. It took energy that Rainpaw wasn't sure he had to bound up the rivulets that streamed down the hill and wriggle into the camp.
His first instinct was to look for white. Froststar, Swanblossom, Moonstream, it didn't matter. Their fur would shimmer even in this deadening downpour. Instead, a giant tabby shadow reared up above him. His heart raced and his sodden fur ruffled before he recognized his mentor.
"Tigerfrost! You've got to help, Yellowpelt is hurt badly. The patrol is just coming up the knoll now," he panted. The cool yellow eyes blinked once and then vanished, leaving Rainpaw to huddle alone in the rain. Tigerfrost's sneer loomed in his mind. Don't be useless, little kit.
Moonstream. Someone needed to get Moonstream.
The rabbit dens seemed even more unnatural now, with rain streaming into their mouths. How easy it would be to drown in there, in those twisting burrows. In the churning mud and pouring rain it became difficult to distinguish the different holes. Rainpaw nearly tripped into two different dens before he forced himself to breathe and think. The hole was just past a bowl shaped rock… there! He dove into the den, feeling his heart begin to race. Water streamed past his paws faster than he could move. Mud slicked his belly before he finally emerged into the surprisingly roomy burrow. The darkness pressed on him the same way the rushing of the rain pressed on his ears.
"Moonstream!" he called. He ignored the squeak in his voice. "Moonstream, come quick!" The sharp smell of herbs was quickly being drowned. The damp sod swallowed his breathless pants. "Moonstream!" He couldn't stand it, couldn't stand it. He turned tail and ran up, up out of the burrow. He didn't even notice his claws digging into the mud.
The shock of the freezing rain slamming into his back once again brought him back. He felt like he was going to shake apart, between the cold and the panic.
"Rainpaw."
The apprentice leaped away from the noise. His blue eyes roved the icy semidarkness. A white pelt glowed faintly. Green eyes blinked.
"Moonstream?"
A brief nod.
"Thank StarClan," Rainpaw breathed. "Yellowpelt is hurt."
A frown. "Is that all?" she asked. Rainpaw just shook his head.
"Just…go see."
The green eyes narrowed and vanished into the gloom. Rainpaw slumped into himself. Nothing bad had happened, nothing very far out of the usual for an army bent on conquering the Clans, but he felt drained and afraid. He was vaguely aware of a crowd gathering on the slope of the knoll, but it didn't mean much to him.
The smell of sod in his face made Rainpaw spring away. He could feel his heart resume its frantic pounding.
"Calm down, little kit, it's just me." Heatherclaw's eyes gleamed just like the rogues' in the half light of the downpour.
"I'm no kit," Rainpaw growled, feeling anger surge in his belly. Heatherclaw shrugged.
"What's going on?" she asked. Rainpaw unconsciously began following the GrassClan—no, OneClan—warrior towards the knot of cats gathered around Yellowpelt. Rainpaw grimaced.
"We were attacked, and Yellowpelt… well, you'll see."
Rainpaw was forced to shoulder his way through the crowd to get to a spot where he could see. He was glad for the rain now. Hopefully the warriors wouldn't take offense. Heatherclaw's fur brushed against his as he craned his head to get a better look.
Moonstream was crouched beside Yellowpelt. The stocky warrior was lying limp on the ground and for the first time Rainpaw allowed himself a glance at the wound in the warrior's belly. It was bad. The four parallel scratches were bleeding so violently that even the pouring rain couldn't wash it away quick enough to keep the wound clean, and Rainpaw could see something else glistening in there, pink and squishy and wrinkled. Moonstream poked gently at it with a claw, lifting exposed flaps of skin to peer into Yellowpelt's belly.
"Well? Will she live?" The deep voice cut through the rain. Froststar's icy eyes swept over his daughter and the prostrate warrior. Moonstream's green eyes flicked up at him.
"She's lucky. They didn't even nick her insides."
Saltfeather stepped forward anxiously. "What does that mean? Will she be okay?"
Moonstream shrugged and pressed a paw against the worst scratch to slow the bleeding. "I don't know. A scratch on the insides and a cat is as good as dead, but her wounds are still serious. She won't be able to move for a moon or more, and I can't guarantee the scratches won't become infected."
Froststar's voice seemed to freeze the rain. "Who is responsible for this?" he growled softly, almost too soft to hear over the pounding raindrops. His eyes lit on Heatherclaw.
"Traitor!" he yowled, and before anyone could react he had leaped onto the warrior. His bared fangs were whiskerlengths from her face. "I know you GrassClan traitors are behind this! You won't get away with taking my warrior's life," he screamed at the cream warrior.
"No, Father! She's not responsible!" Icy trickles of fear bit into him. He shouldered Froststar but the massive tom didn't move, so he shoved his face into Froststar's. Their matching blue eyes met for an instant before a massive paw shot out and batted him away, sent him rolling. All Rainpaw could think about was the scene on the knoll in the first battle. Father's fangs flashing down…the fear on Rustlestar's face…blood spurting everywhere…
"It was rogues! They were rogues!" he yelled.
"How can you know? Where were the traitor's guards? No, she dies! It's the only way for them to pay!"
"She's innocent!"
Froststar roared into the air and his paw flashed up. A bolt of lightning threw it into sharp relief, a shard of ice ready to bite into warm flesh. Rainpaw yelled and Heatherclaw's yowl cut through the rain.
Froststar shoved his face into Rainpaw's. "Decide whose side you're on, kit. Your Clan's, or a traitor's. There is no in between."
Quick as a flash, the leader was gone into the gloom. The Clan dispersed and Moonstream hunched over Yellowpelt, shoving cobwebs against the gaping wounds in her belly.
Heatherclaw was the last to get up. The four scratches ran deep, almost to bone, weeping tears of blood down her cheek. Her yellow eyes were flat.
Soon it was just Rainpaw standing atop the knoll, a frozen gray sentinel in a slate gray world.
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