"The trail's strong now," reported Saffron, his ears flicking, the only sign of his unease.
Beside him, Lionblaze's tail became erect, and his amber eyes sparkled. He opened his mouth to inhale the scent. "I don't smell any difference."
"You've been in too many fights," mewed Saffron, admiring despite himself the scar tissue criss-crossing the tom's nose. "After being bashed in the face a certain number of times, you tend to lose a bit of your sense of smell."
Willowshine, who had never been bashed in the face, or at least not that she'd been aware of, lowered her head to the ground. "He's right. They're a half-hour away, at most."
"The to-be is still with it?" said Tigerheart, who had been scanning the thick trees around them ever since the wolf's strong musk had become fresh. 'SunClan' had been tracking the wolf for some days, and were now so close that even the bravest of warriors were starting to lose their nerve.
"Rabbit is still there," confirmed Willowshine, who knew his scent better than the two mercenaries.
Tigerheart gave a grunt of surprise. "Would have thought he'd been eaten by now."

"Every beast likes to save a bit of food for later on," muttered another warrior. Saffron looked at her. He knew all their names by now, but he was having difficulty attaching them to faces. He'd been a loner all his life and had never been in possession of a great memory for names. It was either Heathertail or Petalfur, he knew that much.
Hollyleaf sniffed the ground. "There's something else, too…" She wrinkled her nose. "Cats? Cats. Not with the wolf, just following from behind."
Tawnypelt looked uneasy. "More rogues?"
"There is a group who roams these woods," confirmed Saffron. "Only dangerous if you're alone, though."
Lionblaze shrugged his massive shoulders. "If we find them, maybe they'll help us."
"Not if these are the rogues I think they are," Saffron said with a shake of his head.

Rabbit That Leaps Over Stream awoke to an intense pain in his skull.
His first thoughts were that Matilda had finally regained her memory and decided to kill him. But if that was the case, why did he still hurt? Where were his ancestors? The forest looked exactly the same as the one he'd been pacing at by her side.
His own memory began to slide back into his battered brain. He had left the she-wolf to seek out the tempting scent of a herb he didn't know. Then he had smelt the other cats, their rotting odour drifting into his nose like living crowfood. There had been many, all small and skinny, with broken teeth and matted fur. Despite their poor health, they had attacked with swiftness. He'd had no time to react or cry for help before his head was slammed into a tree, over and over…
He felt sand beneath his paws. A den. The brutes had imprisoned him in a den.
A grating croak that reminded Rabbit of claws on stone rasped through the air.
"Look a' that. Th' kitten stirs."

A leering face loomed at the mouth of the den. "Yep, e's awake. 'Ey there, li'lle kitten! Wot yer think ye'd be a-doin' now, strollin' around our part o' the forest like yer own the blinkin' thing?" His accent was so thick and strange Rabbit could barely understand him. He opened his mouth to respond, to correct the mangy cat on several points, but before he could make a sound another one interrupted him.
He'd heard it before. Deeper than last time, and strangely throbbing. A touch of irritation laced the words.
Little cat Rabbit, where are you?
The rogues all jerked as one and their heads swivelled in all directions as they tried to locate the source of the sound.
"By the 'eather, wot's that?" whispered a she-cat, her shoulders trembling.
An older tom, in slightly better condition than the others, bared his yellow fangs. "Dat be a wolf, friends, an' a big one too. Ain't been no wolves 'round here since I were a kitten."
"It wos askin' for a cat," whispered the she-cat, and looked at Rabbit.
"Yeah, me." Rabbit could speak more boldly now that they were afraid. "And if you hurt me, she'll come after you." He had no guarantee of that. But he scrambled out of the den and yowled as loud as he could, "Here, Matilda! I'm here! Some cats have taken me prisoner!"
Her howl came back, strong as the mountain waterfall.

An ambush? Befitting for your cowardly kind. Wait there, little one. I will find you and make them regret their actions.
The rogue cats looked at each other with horror. "Scatter!" snarled the old tom, and they turned to run.
They were too late. Matilda padded into their clearing, looking around with contempt and disgust. Her eyes rested on each cat for a moment. Fear had taken a hold of their limbs, and Rabbit wondered if they were even still breathing.
Matilda stepped to the tom who had been guarding Rabbit's hole, and leaned over him. The to-be realized how small and pathetic the cat looked beneath her. The tom had eyes the size of the moon and he was shaking so hard it was a wonder he could stand. Rabbit wrinkled his nose at the scent of urine.
Her mouth stretched into a wolf's grin, and she pounced, her paws shoving him to the ground beneath her as her jaws snapped over his head. The cat managed one piteous squeal before his head detached, and the clearing exploded as cats regained mobility and fled for their lives. Matilda let out a war-howl, and plunged into the trees after them, her claws ripping through a rogue even as she leaped past. Rabbit pressed a shaking paw to his face and clambered back into the den. He had seen many horrific injuries in his training as a healer. But not decapitation, and not cats being literally torn in half.
And as screams echoed through the trees, as blood from the rogue's head stained the sandy burrow and brought a bitter reek to his nose, Rabbit did nothing but be violently sick several times before crawling even further away and shoving his face to the ground.
One day, that will be me.

"StarClan help us! What is that?" demanded Tigerheart, his ears flat against his head. Screams of agony and terror were shredding the once-silent forests, and the air seemed clouded with fear-scent and blood. Every now and again a deep snarling could be heard, usually right before another shriek.
One last pitiful whimper-seeming very close-and then a new sound. A sound that pierced the clouds above their heads and shook the earth beneath their paws. A howl of vengeance and glory, of a thousand battles fought and won, of prey squealing for mercy at its conqueror's feet.
"The wolf." Lionblaze's voice was very low and hushed. "It must be…"
Hollyleaf was shaking, but she managed a weak smile. "Well, then, SunClan, looks like this territory's up for offer now."
Saffron shook his head. "There were nearly fifteen cats in this band last time I checked. The wolf killed them all?"
Tawnypelt pushed her way through the shrubs. "Not all, at least, not yet. Come here."

They crowded beside her uneasily, the cloying scent of fear biting their scent glands. Before them lay a emaciated she-cat, her fur so soaked with blood the pelt colour was impossible to detect. Deep tears in her sides exposed not only her ribs but also her intestines. Hollyleaf gagged on her tongue.
Willowshine, though shaken, was more used to gristly sights. She crouched before the dying rogue.
"Did the wolf do this?" she asked softly.
The rogue cat nodded her head up and down.
"Was…was there a cat with the wolf?"
The she-cat tried and failed to take a breath of air. "Cort the poor mousebrain. What was we s'possed t' do? 'E were a-trespassing on our land. 'E 'ad no right t' set 'is monster on us…"

It was the last words she would ever speak. Oxygen bubbled through her nostrils in a final desperate release, and the light faded from her haunted eyes.
After a few second in silence, Tigerheart was the first to rouse himself. "That's it. Let's go home."
Lionblaze looked bewildered. "Home? What for?"
Tigerheart stared at his leader. "Come on, Lionblaze, admit it. We can't fight this thing. We can't control it or take it anywhere. It just ripped a whole Clan to pieces. There's nothing we can do except go home and hope StarClan will understand."
Lionblaze continued to give him a puzzled stare, when Willowshine spoke. "I agree with Lionblaze, but not about catching the wolf. Tigerheart's right, it's beyond control. But there's Rabbit. He's still alive. We need to find him and save him."

"We told Stoneteller that his cats weren't our responsibility," mewed Harespring with a surprising lack of emotion. "We can just say he was already dead."
Saffron shook his head. "Heartless cowards, the lot of you! He's barely more than a kit. Imagine how scared he must be. Could you face your families knowing you abandoned a helpless cat to die?"
"If we help him," said Tigerheart, "will we even see our families again?"
"Does it matter? The warrior code says we must help kits in trouble no matter what the cost," said Tawnypelt with steely eyes. At the mention of this, some spine went back into the Clan cats, and they nodded.
"Onwards, then," said Lionblaze, and Saffron, Hollyleaf and Willowshine took the lead again, seeking out the scent of the little tom. It was difficult to find it under the smell of so much blood and death, but at last it wound up into a clearing.
This must have been the rogue cats' camp, because their scent was everywhere. Two bodies lay on the mossy floor, one beheaded. Hollyleaf sniffed the air. "He's here." She raised her mew. "Rabbit That Leaps Over Stream? It's us, the Clan cats. We've come to find you."
For a moment there was silence, then Rabbit crawled out of a hole in the ground somewhere.
"You came for me?" he said, his meow cracking in his shock and joy.

"We would never have left you behind," said Tawnypelt, giving the other cats firm stares. They all muttered agreement.
Lionblaze stepped close to the little tom. "I must say, I'm impressed. Not many cats could keep alive in a wolf's company, especially after the herbs wore off."
"Herbs?" came a new voice. Quiet, but unmistakeable.
The silver she-wolf with the golden eyes.
Lionblaze turned his head like a hunter stalking prey. All the other cats stood rigid as she padded into the clearing, her muzzle and paws stained red. She met Lionblaze's gaze.
"What herbs?"

Lionblaze bared his teeth in a snarl. "Wolf. Come here and fight me."
"Lionblaze, no!" gasped Tigerheart. Both wolf and warrior ignored him.
"What herbs?" repeated the wolf for the third time.
The golden tom let out a laugh. "Don't you know, brute? The herbs we shoved down your throat to keep you a tame sheep. I don't know how you learned to speak cat, and I don't care. I always wanted to be the one to kill you myself."
She cocked her head very slowly in thought. "You believe that." It was a statement.
Lionblaze took a step forwards. "I have the power of the stars in my paws."
Matilda's eyes narrowed. "And?"

"I can fight entire wars without injury. I can drink a river of blood and not burst. I can spend a thousand nights in the coldest lands without freezing. I can kill you! I will!"
She took another step towards him until their faces were barely kitsteps apart. Fury and hatred began to radiate off her like heat.
"You pathetic little human plaything," she said coldly, despite her rage. "You dare to drug me? Then be prepared to face the consequences. I will eat your heart and then find your kin and slay them all. I know of your kind. You smell of the land that used to be wolf hunting-grounds. The land that will be ours again! Your death will be one of many to come." She took a step back and curled her lip. "Fight me then, little one, and we will see whether your tiny dots of sky-light will save you."
Lionblaze fell into a fighting crouch, and sprang.