Hello there :) This is one of my favorite chapters. It's raining, and rain usually helps me write better. I'm a bit iffy when it comes to battle scenes-sometimes I write them well, sometimes I don't. I would love a review to tell me if this battle is okay, or if it sucks. I used Lionblaze's perspective because, although he is not going to be a main perspective (in this fiction, at least), a battle is more interesting from a warrior in the action than a medicine cat watching. I also hope this explains sufficiently why none of the cats recognized Hollyleaf!
The command may have been simple, but the attack was far from it.
The brown tom-whose name was Mantine, though the Clan cats would never know it-was no fool. He divided his vast throng of cats into three groups, and attacked in three vast swooping waves. Every few minutes one wave would fall back to be replaced by fresh cats.
Blood smeared the barren plains as the Clan cats fought the rogues, howling in rage and fear. Fur drifted through the air like pollen, and settled on the corpses of cats.
Lionblaze ducked under a rogue tom's blow and snapped his neck cleanly, feeling the gush of blood warm his mouth. He felt exhilarated. Fighting was the air he breathed and battle the flesh he ate. He never felt so alive as when he was fighting for his life. With a snarl he looked around for Mantine, but the rogue leader was nowhere to be seen. Fury turned his blood to lightning as he sank his claws into an enemy she-cat's side and laid open her ribs, ignoring her squeals of agony. His golden tabby fur was stained red, but no wound touched his skin. For this was Lionblaze's power; the power to have control over life itself. There was no warrior code to contain his bloodlust, and every time his teeth snapped down, another ghost drifted into whatever lonely skies the dead walked.
As he clawed open the face of another enemy, he relished in his strength. I could fight this battle single-pawed; I could kill every single one of them and not gain a scratch! He swung around and his yellow eyes met those of a cat who had hoped to attack from behind. He bared his teeth in a feral grin as he saw the fear in her face.
Oh, little she-cat, I would feel sorry for you if you were not trying to kill me!
Sorry? No, not sorry, because that implied regret, and that was an emotion Lionblaze was unfamiliar with. Instead, he was filled with a mixture of contempt and helpless pity as he sprang on her and crunched into the back of her neck with his long yellow fangs.
Willowshine stood, quivering in terror as the bloodbath before her swelled. She was standing a reasonable distance from the battle, but they would find her soon enough. Already she could see some Clanmates lying silently in pools of scarlet, and she knew that her corpse would join theirs before long. A deep tear in her hind leg prevented her from resting her weight on all fours; instead she shook on three legs that could barely carry her.
The wolf-where was it? She forced herself to look past the violence and search the dead. The wolf would not fight; the herbs prevented it. Even if a cat ordered her to, she would be incapable of doing it. She remembered discussing the herb with Stoneteller-how long ago was that? Time seemed to be out of place and distorted, pierced with images of blood and gore.
The wolf was not among the carcasses, and neither was the little to-be, Rabbit. He must have ordered her to run for shelter. Why he had done that, Willowshine had no idea, but then the healer was a strange cat at the best of times. Perhaps he thought the wolf would protect him.
She barely remembered her escape. Brief flashes were presented to her-of hearing her Clanmates' screams, of hearing the warning growls of the wolf, and the brown tom opening his mouth to sound their doom. She remembered claws raking her leg, she remembered the agony flashing through her, and then-nothing. She supposed she must have ran, stumbling through the fights, and crawling to this spot where she would undoubtedly die anyway.
"Hey!" growled a voice near her. Willowshine let out a squeal and swung around, flattening her ears in attempt of hopeless defiance.
"Relax!" said the voice urgently. "It's me, all right? Saffron."
Willowshine shook her head. A red mist seemed to be clouding her vision. Still, the voice was familiar. "I can't see…" she whispered softly.
"Shock," came the haughty voice of Leaf. "Take deep breaths, close your eyes for a bit."
Willowshine did so and found that world seemed to steady and stop spinning. When she opened her eyes again, the black she-cat and the golden tom were indeed standing before her.
"Quickly!" she choked, her breath rattling in her dry throat, "We've got to run!"
"No, we don't," said Leaf soothingly. "The rocks over there are the borders of their territory. They won't come here."
"Rocks?" said Willowshine dazedly. She looked back at the battlefield, which seemed to be settling down slightly.
The barren plain was dotted with large boulders, but a large pile of them lay almost directly in front of her. She vaguely remembered stumbling over them.
"Come on," said Saffron urgently, "we've got to move. They might not come here, but soon other predators will, and you're in no shape to fight a fox or an owl."
Willowshine shook her head. "No. I have to stay, to help out my Clanmates…"
Leaf leaned into her. "I'm sorry, Willowshine," she said gently. "If they're still in that fight, they're dead. But don't give up. I saw a few of your friends escape. They still have a chance."
The grey she-cat looked into that face, and saw sadness in the green eyes. Somehow, it was strangely comforting, and suddenly Willowshine wished so strongly that it was all a bad dream, and she would wake up in Mothwing's den with the beautiful medicine cat calling her name.
The she-cat sat back. "You really don't remember me, do you?" Her voice was soft.
Willowshine looked closer and this time held her gaze, searching.
"Are you Hollyleaf?" she mewed quietly, and felt the world beneath her paws settle slightly, as though an unbreakable truth had been spoken.
"I am."
"But why didn't Lionblaze recognize you? Why didn't Squirrelflight? Why didn't I?" Even as she spoke, she knew the answer. Hollyleaf smelled completely different, her fur lined with an aroma of wildness and freedom. She had grown larger and stronger over the moons, and her facial features were now more defined. As an apprentice and young warrior there had been a sort of softness in the shape of Hollyleaf's muzzle and forehead that spoke of kindness and generosity. Now, though, her jaw was set rigidly, and her mouth was set in a firm unsmiling line. Willowshine looked into the face of her old friend and saw darkness stare back at her. She doubted she would have ever recognized the she-cat without looking as closely as this.
For all that, there was a strange beauty in Hollyleaf, one that Willowshine had never seen in a Clan cat. It took her a while to place it. It originated in the way she held her head, in the fiery depths of her green eyes, in the straightness of her tail. Hollyleaf was a she-cat that knew exactly what lay in her soul and had mastered it. No Clan cat could say the same.
Hollyleaf pulled back from Willowshine and looked at her mate. Saffron shifted from paw to paw. "We really should move," he murmured. "Before dawn, at least."
Startled, Willowshine had looked up. She must have been standing horror-stricken for much longer than she remembered, for night had completely settled. The only light came from a cat's claw moon and a glittering carpet of stars. Remembering her quest, she let out a small wail.
"We've failed, you know."
Hollyleaf looked at her. "Failed in what?"
"We were supposed to take the wolf back to the Clans. Now we'll all starve to death!"
Saffron blinked. "Calm yourself down, will you? You'll never get anywhere with that sort of attitude. I saw that little cat run away with his wolf. They'll probably be somewhere in the forest-"
"Forest?" gasped Willowshine.
"Forest," purred Hollyleaf. "You took the wrong turning at the cowplace. Should have gone left and crossed the Thunderpath."
"And then all this would have been avoided," Willowshine said sadly.
"Don't go there," said Saffron sternly. "You'll go crazy with the what-ifs. The fact is, it's happened, and you need to deal with it as best you can." He looked back at the battle. "Looks like they're done."
Sure enough, the sprawling mass of rogue cats were leaping away across the dead lands, their victorious yowls more or less identical to their battle cries. When every cat was gone, Willowshine gasped as she saw a cat lift its head and stumble away in the opposite direction.
"Lionblaze." murmured Hollyleaf, a strange note in her voice.
"How do you know?"
"It'll be Lionblaze because it's always Lionblaze. He's too good for them." She did not elaborate.
Willowshine leaned forwards. "He's going the wrong way."
Saffron shrugged. "He'll backtrack to the cowplace soon enough. Right now, we need to think of ourselves, and get you back to your…Clan?"
Hollyleaf flicked his ear with her tail. "We should split up. Less danger of being found."
"Split up?" whispered Willowshine.
"You'll be fine," answered the black she-cat firmly. "Just follow your scent-trail back to the cowplace and we'll meet you there. See you soon, Willowshine."
And with that, the two cats bounded in different directions, before fading from the young medicine cat's sight.
To become one with the shadows once more.