Chapter Fifteen

Green eyes watched from the shadows as a small patrol slipped out of the camp after the last light streaked from the sky. Nightpaw was at the head of the group, followed by Stormslash and Shadewhisper. Dawnpaw didn't know what exactly they were after, but she knew this had to have something to do with what Hawkstar and Featherfur had told her; Nightpaw had been chosen to help the Clan. Well, she might not be the hero here, but that didn't mean that she had to sit back and wait helplessly for them to return with help. She couldn't hunt, she couldn't help her mother… but she was good at fighting. They could use her.

She nodded to herself. Yes, they could use her. She was absolutely sure about that; or she would be, if not for the thrill of fear piercing her heart. Dawnpaw let them gain a healthy distance and slipped out of the camp after them.

~O~

Dawnpaw was bitterly, ravenously hungry. It had been days since she'd had a real meal, and the scraps she'd scavenged from those shiny black sacks of rotting food hours ago had done little to quell the growing pain in her empty belly. She desperately wanted to be down on the ground with the patrol. Maybe down there, one of them would take pity on her and catch her a mouse…

The creamy apprentice tried to shake such thoughts out of her mind. Perched high above Nightpaw and Stormslash and Shadewhisper on the rippled metal top of a Twoleg nest, Dawnpaw was especially able to see their ruffled fur and wary expressions. Getting a surprise—for instance, say, an unwelcome visitor—was the last thing that they wanted. No, Dawnpaw would have to do what she had done for days now: hide in the shadows and watch. She just had to keep hoping for the right moment to pop up, so that she could show herself and be accepted into the patrol. And then they could eat a mouse. Or maybe a rabbit. Or, better yet, ten rabbits…

Faint yowls tore Dawnpaw out of her hungry daydream. She bounded over to the side of the nest and leaped without hesitation to the roof of a neighboring nest. She could hear the yowls much more clearly now. In fact, they sounded like they were right below her… She ran to the corner of the nest and looked down. Two sets of cats were brawling down there, and the fight looked nasty. Dawnpaw could feel her fighting instincts prickle at the thought of joining in.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Dawnpaw and she gasped. The DesertClan patrol was going to wander straight into this! She ran as quickly as she could across the top of the nest and searched for a place to jump, so she could warn them.

"Oh StarClan," she cursed breathlessly. Was her head spinning from hunger or vertigo? There was nowhere she could see that wouldn't end with her legs broken or her neck snapped. She quickly scrambled back, her eyes still roving for a spot, any spot, where she could leap to the ground and warn her Clanmates. All it would take would be for them to round the corner and then the seemingly distant yowls of battle would suddenly become all too close.

Dawnpaw scrambled to the other side of the corrugated metal roof and spotted some shiny gray cylinders that looked like they would support her weight. She leaped without thought and yelped in terror as she felt it tip over beneath her paws. She hit the ground with a mighty oof and for a terrifying moment, she couldn't breathe.

Mousebrain, get up! She finally sucked in a gasping breath and shoved herself to her feet, desperate to reach her Clanmates. She rounded the sharp corner of the nest and felt a mixture of terror and excitement—Stormslash's fluffy gray tail had just disappeared in the direction of the noise. Dawnpaw sprinted after him, not knowing whether she was excited to fight or frantic to help her Clanmates.

For the first time in what felt like ages, a smile cracked her face and she felt adrenaline pumping though her veins. She barreled around the corner of the building and set her sights on a shaggy brown tom who smelled like the contents of those shiny bags she'd scavenged from. Her claws ran with blood as she ripped into massive tom's side and sent him yowling to the ground. He was bigger, and he tried to surge up and trap her, but Dawnpaw was too quick. She darted beneath him to rip her claws through his soft belly, and then twisted to sink her teeth into his flank. Too soon, he was running, and then it was on to the next.

It was only here, with drops of blood and angry yowls flying through the air, that Dawnpaw's felt like she could do anything right.

The creamy apprentice whirled onto another cat, ferocity gleaming in her green eyes, only for the most foreign of scents to hit her nose. Her claws were frozen in the air. This gray tom wasn't like the others she had been fighting—no vulture-meat stench, no acrid musk. He was undeniably a Clan cat. Just what Clan, though, Dawnpaw was unable to guess.

His vivid blue eyes held hers for a moment and an understanding seemed to leap between them. The tom's eyes flickered then, and he leaped straight for her. Dawnpaw tensed, her teeth automatically bared. He soared straight over her and a yowl was ripped from the throat of a vulture-meat eater poised for a strike right behind her. Together they beat him back until rivulets of blood coursed from countless slashes in his pelt.

Dawnpaw glanced at the tom. "Thanks," she said. The tom just nodded, his blue eyes guarded.

Disappointment struck Dawnpaw like a blow when she saw that the battle was over. Suddenly the field of victory transformed back into a dingy alleyway filled with vulture-food and broken shiny sacks. Cats picked their way around the disgusting mess, teeth still bared and fur still on end. Perhaps the battle wasn't over yet. The thought made Dawnpaw's battle instincts flare again. She didn't even glance at her ally before she bounded over to where Nightpaw stood.

She could feel her pelt burning under the hostile stares of her Clanmates. They can't turn me away now, no matter how much they want to, she thought to herself, but it was hollow reassurance. The four DesertClan now stood against seven of these foreign Clan cats—not good odds even in the best of times.

A tabby stepped forward. His dark brown stripes rippled as he strode forward, and his icy yellow eyes were filled with a kind of brutal ferocity that Dawnpaw had only seen from one other creature: the coyotes. His fangs gleamed in an arrogant smile as he announced, "More pathetic cats for us to thrash? I can hardly wait."

Stormslash hissed. "Just try, coyote-breath, see what happens!"

The blue-eyed tom stepped forward, his blue eyes blazing. "Enough! Calm down, before anyone does something stupid!" Dawnpaw was amazed to see the tabby subside, though he glared at the other tom with such venom that Dawnpaw thought it might leak from his eyes. The blue-eyed tom didn't seem to care.

"Now…who are you, and what are you doing here?"

Nightpaw instantly opened her mouth, blurting, "We're DesertClan cats, and we've been sent by StarClan to find a special nest here in this very Twolegplace."

Dawnpaw didn't like the way these cats' eyes lit up at the name "DesertClan". She saw Stormslash and Shadewhisper exchange a glance. The tabby moved forward once more. Relief fluttered in her chest as the blue-eyed one cut him off once more.

"What kind of nest, exactly?"

Nightpaw's face scrunched up. "We must find a nest that pierces the sky like a white tooth, where they keep drops of ice as warm as our fur." The sweet, naïve apprentice looked so proud of what she'd recited.

The tabby snarled. "This is a waste of our time! OneClan, attack them!"

"But you can't! StarClan sent us!"

"A building like a white tooth? That sounds like Bone's den!"

The other cats froze in their crouches. The tabby turned on the last member of his patrol slowly, his lip curled. "What, exactly, did you say?"

The little gray kitten sat up, his brown eyes shining excitedly. "That building she described, that sounds just like Bone's den!"

Vicious glares were shooting between the two Clans, but even so, the gray tom with the blue eyes stepped forward and offered a cynical little grin.

"Well, it sounds like we're going to the same place," he said. "And I daresay this should be easier together than alone. What do you say to a truce?"

Nightpaw glanced at the DesertClan warriors nervously. The little black apprentice cleared her throat and nodded after a moment. "Sure, or, uh, I-I mean, that sounds like an excellent plan of action." The gray tom nodded and, it seemed, that was that. The warriors fell into step beside him, the tabby quickly surging forward to lead the way. The DesertClan patrol followed warily a moment later.

So we're allies now, Dawnpaw thought skeptically. She couldn't imagine this alliance lasting long.

Still, there was an upside to all of this. She wasn't alone any more, and the hunger that clawed at her belly would soon be at an end. More important than that, they now had a guide that could lead them straight to whatever nonsense Nightpaw had talked about, that "warm ice" that StarClan thought could save their Clanmates.

The days of hot, hungry journeying had come to an end. Now, each step they took was one step closer to bringing the cure home. And that, more than anything, made this tenuous, fragile alliance worth a shot.

Dawnpaw wanted night to fall soon, so that they could stop. Her mind kept flitting back to mice. Sweet, juicy mice…