Sorry for not updating earlier, but as you may have heard, my dad turned off the internet for three weeks so I couldn't update. It was terrible. :( But here's Chapter 11, and I hope you guys enjoy! Oh, and this is the longest chapter I've written so far: three thousand words. Oh, yeah.

Frostbliss: Here's the chapter! ;)

A Very Scary Princess Berry: Thank you! And I love your pen name.

Smurflover: Thanks. :)

Stormfeather of IceClan: Here it is! I hope that it meets your expectations. :D

SakuraFlutist: Yes, suspense indeed!

Mochikins: Yeah, basically.

Mizumaru2312: No errors? Yay! :D And sorry, but Cloudpaw is going to remain alive. :P

Honeyshade: It's nice to get a new reader! :D And yeah, I did sorta rush that part. I wonder if I'll be able to put in something about him in the coming chapters, though... *muses*

Rockbelly1234: Thanks! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors.

Chapter 11: Escape

Graypaw immediately makes for a tree while Skipper burrows into a tiny hole under the large nest's porch. Brigit looks wildly from side to side before finally squeezing into the space with Skipper. I can just barely hear her telling him to move and to quit whining or otherwise the dogs will find them. And I—I take a running leap and scale the nest, clawing my way up the wooden columns surrounding the mainframe of the nest, and heave myself up onto the top.

From here, like in the tree, I can watch the dogs stop and look bewilderedly from side to side, wondering where their prey has escaped to. There are two of them, massive animals with pitch-black pelts and legs as thick as tree trunks and slathering, foaming jaws that hide vicious sharp white teeth.

I shiver and hope they won't be able to get up here.

One of the dogs lifts its head and sniffs suspiciously at the air with its wet black nose. The other one is already nosing toward Brigit and Skipper's hiding place, and if I creep just a bit more toward the edge of the roof and tilt my head downward, I can hear Brigit telling Skipper to shut up or else and that his sniveling won't stop the dog from coming closer.

The black beast shoves its muzzle into the ragged hole, and now Brigit is telling Skipper to please be quiet or the dog will eat his face off. As expected, it doesn't help much, and now the brown tom's wails of fear can be heard quite clearly.

There's a sudden harsh hiss, and the dog removes its face from the hole, ears laid back and a loud whining sound coming from its throat, several scratches marring the soft flesh of its nose. "Take that, mousebrain!" Brigit jeers. But her mocking abruptly comes to an end when the second dog joins its companion and, after tilting its head curiously and sniffing at the hole, begins to paw at the splintered wood. After a second, the first dog follows its comrade in scratching at the hole, and together the two beasts focus on breaking down the obstacle in their way to get to the soft, delicious reward beyond.

I have to do something. But what?

Graypaw catches my eye, settled safely in his position high up in a tree, level to the top of the nest I'm standing on. He's frowning and tilting his head downward, but I don't understand. What is he trying to say?

A whisper comes from below me, to my right, calling my name. I tiptoe cautiously to the edge of the roof and peer down. And there is Cloudpaw, balancing precariously out of an open see-through square. "Amberpaw!" she whispers again. "Help me up." I eye her carefully for a moment and then grasp her ruff and pull her up to the roof.

"Thanks," says Cloudpaw gratefully, making me start with surprise. I'm pretty sure she's only being polite as we're rescuing her, but I'd never expected the words "Thank you" to come out of her mouth—at least, not to me.

I look up to see Graypaw nodding satisfactorily, and then he points with a paw to below him. He's indicating a branch.

I follow the branch with my eyes and see that it ends just a few mouse-lengths to the edge of the roof, to my right. One more look up, and I see Graypaw nodding vehemently and pointing to the branch over and over again, quite, well, pointedly.

"I think we're supposed to climb the branch to Graypaw's tree," I inform Cloudpaw, and she nods. The branch tapers off to a thin point, but it should be easy to jump and latch onto.

"I'll go first," says Cloudpaw. She backs off a few pawsteps, and then takes a running leap and lands gracefully on the middle of the branch. It wobbles a few seconds but takes her weight. She then continues on carefully down the bough, and soon meets her elated brother at the end of the limb.

Then the two united siblings look up at me, and it's my turn.

I take a couple steps back just like Cloudpaw, then begin running. At the edge of the roof, I jump off but tangle in my own front legs somehow, not giving my back legs enough leverage. I manage to just catch the end of the branch, but it's small and flimsy and snaps off, leaving me to clutch empty air.

Graypaw's mouth opens into a silent horrified oval, but I am already falling.

I land with a thump on the ground, four legs coming to earth with a solid thud, and my paws sting from the cold puffs of snow shooting up into the air around me. I am alive. But a sharp pain is shooting up my right front leg, and with a sick feeling I realize that it's the one I hurt earlier, the one I was supposed to stay inside the medicine cat's den to recuperate for, the one that is now incapable of escaping from the dogs or running or even walking.

And of course, now the dogs abandon their digging and lift their heads with accompanying clinks from the metal chains around their throats. One of them scans the area, its cold black eyes flickering from side to side until they fasten onto me. The beast lets out a sharp bark to its companion, and they begin to lope in easy, lazy strides toward their new victim.

Cloudpaw and Graypaw descend silently onto the snowy ground and Skipper and Brigit emerge from their hiding place, now that the dogs have found a distraction. They scamper toward the siblings to huddle, frightened, behind them, kits behind their Clan leader.

Graypaw starts toward the dogs, seeming to have a plan in mind. But Cloudpaw catches his tail in her teeth and halts him in his steps. He turns toward her with a questioning look, and she gives him one in return that says Are you mouse-brained or what?

The dogs are closer now, drool sliding off their hanging jowls and wagging their tails at the sure prospect of a tasty meal. I back up, keeping my injured paw from the ground as far as possible. I glance up at another tree, just a few fox-lengths from my tail, and wonder if I can manage a climb up there.

One moment of my injured paw on the ground says otherwise, and I hiss in pain.

Graypaw is asking Cloudpaw something, and she answers with a flurry of shakes with her head—No, no, no, to whatever he asked. The gray tom gives her a pointed look, and she shrugs. For a second, he looks at me, and I silently ask a question with my eyes. What are you waiting for?

He looks pained and turns back toward his sister, exchanging another set of pointed looks and inaudible words. What in the name of StarClan are they talking about? The dogs are creeping ever closer, and I can smell the stink of their breath.

Graypaw finally lashes his tail for frustration and turns back toward the dogs. Can you walk? he mouths to me.

I lift my right paw. No.

His jaw clenches and I have the feeling that I just made his plans more complicated. Can you fight?

I can try.

Cloudpaw says something to Graypaw that looks suspiciously like I told you. And all the while, the dogs are getting dangerously closer. They're taking their time, sure of their success.

Can you try to come toward us? asks Graypaw.

I hobble a step forward, but that only puts me closer yet to the black beasts. Not fast enough.

He suddenly lets out a snarl and leaps at the dogs, clawing at their backs. He hangs on for dear life as his mount bucks and howls, attempting to throw him off. Surprisingly, Skipper and Brigit join him in his attack, latching onto the other dog's back with hisses of outrage. Cloudpaw circles closer and then farther away from the dogs' muzzles, tempting them with a new meal.

They're almost far enough away for me to make a break for it when the dog with Graypaw clinging to its back snaps at Brigit and she slips off, red now dotting her white hind paw. She takes off for safety, dashing frantically through the snow, and Skipper follows. With no cats hindering it now, the second black dog is free to snap more viciously at Cloudpaw, and she backs off hurriedly, leaving Graypaw alone on the first dog's back. He stays on for one more second before jumping off to Cloudpaw's side on the ground.

The dogs nip at them a few more times before turning back to the easier meal at hand. This time, they're not patient, and close the distance between us in a few easy strides. Just as the first one reaches me, I duck between its paws and limp as fast as I can toward Graypaw, who rears on his hind legs and prepares to give the beasts a good scratching. Cloudpaw shakes her head and snorts. "I thought you were supposed to rescue me, not yourselves," she says derogatorily, but I can see that she's only saying that to cover up her worry. Three new apprentices, one with a hurt paw, and two kittypets who are StarClan-knows-where, against two massive dogs, aren't exactly equally matched in a face-off.

Angry at having missed their quarry yet again, the two large canines turn around and advance toward us with low growls emanating from their throats. If part of their goal is to frighten their prey before they kill them, they're succeeding. They're almost upon us when a Twoleg suddenly flings open the nest entrance and begins to shout at them, stopping the beasts in their tracks. Shamed whines fill the air.

"Not again!" rages the male Twoleg. "I swear, if I have to pay another three hundred bucks to stitch up some poor neighbor's cat, I'll send you to the pound! Now come here!"

The two dogs turn away from us and begin to slink toward their master, heads dropped in submission and tails drooping. It's almost comical to see the sudden change in them. The Twoleg holds the entrance-way open for them, and as they skulk into the nest, he gives a hefty kick to each of their flanks, prompting high-pitched howls of pain.

Once they're inside the nest, he gives us an angry look. "What are ya looking at?" he bellows. "Scat!" We run behind the tree, and for a moment, he glares at the spot where we were. "Stupid cats," he mutters, and then he too, disappears into the nest.

We are silent for a few seconds more before Cloudpaw lets out a relieved sound. "Finally," she says. "For a second, I thought that they would really get us." Once again, I am surprised—she's being unusually open. But Graypaw nods. "That was a close one," he agrees. Then he looks at me. "How is your paw?"

"I'm unable to walk on it," I answer. Even now, vines of pain are twisting up and down my leg, and I can tell that Whispersong is going to have her work cut out for her.

Cloudpaw tilts her head. "It looks weird," she comments. A grim expression settles onto Graypaw's face, and I look down to stare at my paw, which is swollen and red-hot with pain. Oh, StarClan.

There is an uncomfortable silence, and then Graypaw says, "Let's go home." Cloudpaw and I nod, and we leave the cover of the snowy-capped branches and walk out into the open. We only get a few steps out before Skipper and Brigit are in front us.

"I'm so glad they're gone!" Skipper exclaims. "They were so scary," he adds, stating the obvious.

"Well, I'm just glad that they didn't bite hard enough to leave a mark," sniffs Brigit. Her hind paw is now speckled with little flecks of dried blood, but it's holding her weight and her Twolegs will surely take her to get it healed if they think the wound's serious enough. On our way to the large nest, along with yapping about what a great adventure this was, Skipper had also informed us about the great joys and benefits of living with Twolegs. Personally, I had thought that the great joys and benefits of living with Twolegs were for little kits who couldn't fend for themselves at all, but everyone has different opinions.

Cloudpaw now stares at the white kittypet. "Who are you?" she asks with just a bit of hostility tingeing her tone.

Brigit stares back. "Um…your admirable hero?" she replies in a lofty tone, and I drop my head and groan, waiting for the snobby she-cat face-off that will surely commence. As embarrassing enough as it is for Cloudpaw to be rescued by her brother and her not-friend, it must be damaging to her pride to be rescued by two kittypets in addition.

Sure enough, a glare appears on Cloudpaw's face. "I'm sure you didn't help much," she accuses—undermining Brigit's and Skipper's amount of assistance.

"Nuh-uh!" Skipper pipes up helpfully. "I found Graypaw and Amberpaw in the first place, and then I led them to Brigit, who helped us get to your nest, and then we all helped you get out!"

Cloudpaw turns her glare to Skipper, and the brown kittypet cringes under the force of her look. "So…um, yeah, we helped," he finishes weakly.

"Fine," Cloudpaw sighs. "Thank you." Brigit nods smugly with a haughty "Why, you're welcome" and a full-blown grin stretches across Skipper's face. I can tell he's about to launch into a medley of exclamations about how cool this is, when a Twoleg voice calls out.

"Sweetums? Brigit? Where are you, darling?" It's Brigit's female Twoleg.

Brigit stretches lazily, fluffing up her white soft fur. "Well, I guess it's time for me to get going," she drawls. "It's been nice knowing you." She turns to trot away, but Skipper follows her. "I'll come too! I don't have to go back yet!"

"Bye!" Graypaw calls. "Thanks for your help!" I echo his words, but the two kittypets are too busy arguing.

"But I want to come!"

"Don't you have your own housefolk?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to go home yet! I like your nest better!"

"Fine, you can come, but if my Twoleg kicks you out, I'm not helping you get back in. And you have to promise not to talk all the time."

"Great! Okay, I promise on the life of my food pellets that I will not talk too much. I promise on the life of my playthings that I will not talk too much. I promise on the life of my—"

"Food pellets and playthings aren't alive, you dummy!"

"And I promise on the life of my Twolegs that I won't talk too much and on the life of my—"

"SHUT UP already!"

"Okay."

They disappear into the distance, and we're left alone.

"Well," Cloudpaw says after a moment. "Let's go, then." She sets off, then stops when she realizes she has no idea how to get back. Graypaw comes to her side and bumps her playfully, then grows a bit more serious. "I think we came from there," he says, nodding at the Thunderpath.

I must admit, it's amusing to see Cloudpaw's mouth fall open as she ogles the wide path and the Firemonsters. It's truly a welcome and not-often seen sight.

We finally reach the woods in which Graypaw and I crossed to get to Twolegplace. It's night, and snow is falling once more, and it helpfully numbs my hurt paw—in addition with my entire body. I shiver and silently ask StarClan to help us find our camp quickly.

After a while, I begin to think about the phoenix again. It was a strange but wonderful story that the Twoleg Mommy told, and I wonder if there are any more creatures like it. And then there is my dream—or a nightmare, more like. For a moment, I can almost feel the flames licking my fur, and it strangely feels good. Then I shake my head and coolness settles over my flanks—literally. The snow is falling harder and harder now.

"Graypaw? Cloudpaw?" I call out. "Do you think we're close to the camp?" But no reply comes, and with a sinking pit in my belly I realize that I can't see their gray and white pelts anymore.

I blink away the snowflakes falling into my eyes and squint into the hazy white distance. "Graypaw? Cloudpaw?" I raise my voice. "Where are you?" I limp forward a few more steps, almost expecting Cloudpaw to jump out from behind a snow-capped rock with a, "You mousebrain, we're right here!" But there's nothing except for the harsh whistling of the wind and my own labored breathing and the overall steady, unforgiving sound of solitude.

Panic rises up into my throat as heavy as the snow falling around me. I try to quell the rising fear, but it's hard. I've never been outside the LeafClan camp except for today and when Falconflight took me out after my apprentice ceremony. I'm completely lost.

Which way do I go which way do I go which way do I go—

Suddenly there's a sharp screech, like the call of a bird, and I can see around for miles and miles, like I'm flying in the clouds and looking down. In fact, I am, swooping and diving through the air with an uplifting weightless feeling. I'm not cold at all, and the snow cannot touch me. I feel safe and warm.

Used to this feeling now, I bend down and spot a camp nestled on the ground surrounded by snow. I get the feeling that I've found what I've been looking for, and touch down. Then abruptly, the warmth stops, and I'm cold once more and there's pain spiraling up my leg.

I look down to see melted slush all around my paws, running a clear trail to a place where I can't see. Strangely enough, a single fire-red feather is floating to the ground. Confused, I follow the path slowly and haggardly, my now unfrozen paw hindering me. As I continue on, I begin to hear cats talking with one certain, recognizable voice rising above all.

"What do you mean you don't know where she is? You said she was right behind you!"

"She was!"

Another voice. "Well, we can go and find her tomorrow, I guess. One more night out won't hurt her."

I walk faster, eager to get to wherever the voices are. I trudge through the slush and around a tree, to see the LeafClan camp! Joy fills my chest at the familiar sight. I duck through the hanging bramble entrance to LeafClan, where strangely enough, the path of melted snow ends and only a few patches of non-melted snow adorn the floor of the bramble tunnel.

"No! I'm going to go find her right now."

"Tigerpaw, you know that's—"

The voices abruptly stop when I emerge from the bramble entrance. Both surprised and relieved faces look up at me. And then a dark brown blur rushes toward me and knocks me down. A furious voice sounds in my ears.

"WHERE. HAVE. YOU. BEEN?"

Who can guess who the brown blur is? If you can, you get an extremely fluffy Tigerpaw plushie! :3 And review, please. I think three thousand words should at least count for something. ;)

~Ponyiowa