Uuuggghh…Okay, I deeply apologize for all of my typos, but I'd like to give an explanation. On Microsoft Word is has this little thing where if it thinks it knows what word you're going to put in, for example if you write moouse instead of mouse, it changes it for moose, because that's what it would logically be. So when I type in a word that's misspelled, more often than not it replaces it with the word it thinks is right. So most of the typos are just my stupid word processor. Please don't be mad at me! :O
DAMN. I did it again. :O I always, always alwaysdo this and it's infuriating. In the allegiances, it says that Icepaw had green eyes. GREEEEEEEN eyes. But I had to go and change it because I am an idiot. She was born with green eyes, now she has blue eyes. The magical eye-color-changing cat. I can't even count the number of times I've done this in my stories. And almost every time it's green to blue. Damn it…
One more thing. Sorry all for this late update (I know, I know, inexcusable…) but I had to channel my writing energy into an epic essay on 1984, and how the song of the thrush awakens Winston's passions. Exciting, right?
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A scream echoed through the clearing. Clear and piercing, it penetrated the thick haze and jarred Icefang into action. Holding her breath, the white warrior plunged through the cloud of acrid smoke, her paws thudding against the ground as she ran headlong for the Highrock. She could hear the squeal of cats waking up to horrifying scene, and shivered at the eerie sound.
Fire licked at the treetops overhead, and a massive branch crashed into the bramble wall behind the Highrock. Icefang jumped, startled, but didn't stop. She reached the top of the boulder and swallowed a huge gulp of fresh air.
"FIRE!" she bellowed with every ounce of breath in her lungs, making her voice carry to all corners of the camp, and undoubtedly shattering every cat's peaceful slumber. The commotion was escalating.
"Icefang! Get down from there! Get out, get out!" came a sharp command. Icefang blinked and looked down to see Cinderstar standing at the mouth of his den, his expression irate.
"No! I'll wait until everyone else is out," Icefang protested, fear for her Clan jabbing deep into her heart. If the fire trapped them in the camp, every last cat would be roasted alive in their own pelts.
"Don't be a hero!" Cinderstar growled, but he gave up and streaked towards the nursery to help Specklefoot as she carried her kits into the open.
The fire didn't seem to have reached the camp yet, but in the distance Icefang could see orange columns twisting out of the shadows, flickering and swirling like a flock of demons from the very darkest corner of the Place of No Stars. The billows of smoke hung heavily over the camp, roiling like a stormy lake.
All the cats were awake now and pelting around the clearing, shrill yelps of panic drowning out any other noise. Quelling her own terror, Icefang once again dragged down a breath, tasting the bitter tinge of burning wood on her tongue. "Everyone SHUT UP!" she belted out, her paws vibrating with the force of the shout. The writhing mass of scared cats that had spilled into the clearing paused for a moment, and countless pairs of wide eyes turned towards Icefang. Under the sudden pressure of so many stares, the she-cat's hackles rose, and she stepped back, her words stuck in her throat.
"Warriors and apprentices, gather by the entrance tunnel. Queens and elders, come here to the Highrock. Brightpool, Stonepelt and Mossfur, carry Specklefoot's kits." Cinderstar's calm voice spread like a torrent of water over the clearing, almost visibly smoothing pelts and spirits.
"Thank you, Icefang," he continued, murmuring sideways to her as the cats sprinted to carry out his orders. "If it's alright, I'd like you to watch out for Quickstep. She's the oldest cat in the Clan, and I'd hate to lose her this way." The pained, desolate look in his eyes made Icefang's chest constrict. He too was afraid of losing the Clan.
"I'll do everything I can," she murmured back, and then doubled over and was claimed by a fit of coughing.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Cinderstar hissed, turning to leap down from the Highrock. Icefang coughed once more and then followed, her eyes watering.
The warriors and apprentices had assembled obediently by the bramble tunnel, but they were fidgeting nervously and Yellowpaw was quivering with terror.
Stonepelt had Redkit clutched delicately in his mouth, and Icefang nodded once to him as she passed to join the group of elders. Mossfur's piercing eyes followed her as she approached, but luckily he had Poppykit clasped in his jaws, so no scathing comments shook her focus now.
Another blackened branch crashed down from the trees and slammed into the center of the clearing, nearly crushing Leafspots' tail. The tortoiseshell gave a shriek of fright and skittered sideways, which sent Poppykit wailing. Mossfur's whisker twitched as the tiny she-kit whimpered between his fangs, her delicate paws flailing wildly. Specklefoot cooed softly to Mossfur's nose.
"Alright, is everyone accounted for?" Cinderstar called over the din of the crackling fire.
An answering mew came from Tanglethorn, at the back of the crowd: "Everyone, Cinderstar, down to the last kit. Now let's –" he was interrupted by a fit of coughing, but he recovered quickly, "get out of here!"
A sigh of relief seemed to echo throughout the clearing as Cinderstar led the way out of the smoke-enveloped clearing. The queens and elders followed first, then Stonepelt, Brightpool and Mossfur, carrying the kits. Icefang followed them, staying a tail-length behind Quickstep as the old black she-cat limped swiftly after her leader. At her heels, Icefang could scent Robinpaw and Eaglepaw, and behind them the rest of the warriors.
Outside the camp, it was worse, much to everyone's dismay. Thick black clouds clogged every pocket of air, making it nearly impossible not to breathe in the stuff at every sniff. Beneath Icefang's paws, blackened leaves disintegrated in a puff of ash at her very touch. The heavy breeze was hot and dry, instantly making Icefang uncomfortable as the small troupe surged out of the clearing. Her eyes streamed and her nose throbbed as she inhaled trickles of scorching, bitter smoke.
"Follow me! Everyone keep your eyes on the cat in front of you!" Cinderstar's directions floated down the line, passed on from mouth to mouth so that every cat received the instructions. Icefang had to admit, once everyone had gotten themselves under control and Cinderstar was at the head of the mob, ThunderClan was as slick and composed as an arrogant weasel in a warrior's claws. Despite the fire raging around them, not a single member of the Clan was forgotten.
That was until the flaming trunk of a birch tree tipped on its side with an earsplitting shriek of ripping wood, slamming to the ground directly in front of Icefang.
Panic consumed the organized line of ThunderClan cats. Icefang scrambled backwards as leaves and twigs fluttered to the ground like the feathers of some fiery bird that had been dragged out of the clouds of smoke. Screams and cries of fear echoed all around her, but at the moment instinct had taken over. Nothing was as important as saving her own life and putting distance between herself and the fallen tree, which was already passing the flames onto the dry leaf litter like a plague of yellow tendrils, seeping through the forest with the speed and ferocity of a pack of hungry dogs.
Icefang stopped ten fox-lengths away at the top of an ancient stump that looked dense enough not to catch fire. The fur along her neck was sticking straight up and her tail waved over her head, her blue eyes as wide as twin moons. A sleek tortoiseshell shape, presumably Leafspots shot past her into the depths of the forest. A growl rumbled in Icefang's throat. This new creature would not defeat her. She could master the fire too. There was no way this red beast would claim her life, not when she was so much closer to her goals.
With a hiss of defiance, Icefang forced her paws to retrace their steps, back to where the trunk of the birch was still groaning, cradled against the earth like a fallen king, its crown in smoldering shambles.
A sudden, blood-chilling scream pierced Icefang's thoughts. It sent her teeth on edge and instilled a cold fear in her heart. That was the scream of an animal in agony.
"Help me!" came the wail again, from somewhere close to Icefang's left. Fearfully, the white-furred she-cat stepped through a wall of ferns and gazed out at the gruesome scene before her. The birch tree had fallen directly on the line of walking cats, but Icefang had assumed no one had been hurt. It seemed she had been wrong. A dark tabby head protruded from underneath the branch, along with one leg that was skewed at a sickeningly wrong angle.
"Icefang," gasped the creature.
"Tanglethorn," Icefang moaned, stepping hesitantly forward.
"Please, please help me!" he gasped. The visible paw twitched feebly, but the movement was made her stomach lurch. Icefang closed her eyes and tried to still the swirl of emotions that clouded her head. On the one paw, how could Icefang not do everything in her power to save the deputy from the horror he was trapped in? On the other, Tanglethorn was as good as dead already, and it would be easy enough to walk away…easier than bloodying her own claws.
"I'm sorry," she wheezed, her eyes still closed. Icefang could practically feel the despair wash over her as Tanglethorn comprehended her words.
"No, no, no, please…" he moaned, but his pleas were interrupted by another fit of wrenching coughs. Icefang opened her eyes, and to her horror, a trickle of blood was dribbling from Tanglethorn's jaws. "Please, Icefang…" he moaned again, and then suddenly his head snapped back, as if he had convulsed, his body hidden from view. Another glob of blood dripped from between his jaws, and then his head became limp, resting against the ground as still as stone.
Shivering, Icefang backed away from the macabre sight, her pawsteps quickening as she felt the ferns sweep against her spine. Her heart pounding, Icefang turned and sprinted away, taking the long way round the very tip of the fallen tree. The fire seemed to have moved on, raging towards the camp. This thought sent another wave of nausea cascading over Icefang's head. The blood throbbed painfully in her ears as she ran.
Icefang glanced into the shadows of every corner that she passed searching for more cats. Just as she was about to give up and turn back, admit defeat, let the fire consume her already burning body, the plaintive mew of a kit reached her ears. This one small sound awakened the deep-buried part of herself that Icefang had reconciled that day in the forest. She didn't allow it to consume her again, but she did pause and look up to see where the sound had come from.
With the shadow of a hollow log, Icefang could see a dark face peering out, eyes tightly closed, jaws parted, fangs bared. With a jolt of surprise she recognized Redkit's streaked pelt. The first thought that speared through her clouded thoughts was that she couldn't let this, of all kits, die at the claws of the hungry fire. The second was: What in the name of StarClan happened to Stonepelt? Had he too been crushed underneath a fiery branch, tossing Redkit to safety before the flames devoured him.
Icefang shook her head violently. This was no time for grieving, not yet. She still had herself to save, and she wouldn't let Redkit die out here too. Determination lending her paws new strength, Icefang bent forward and snatched the mewling kit from the shelter of the hollow log, then turned and continued onward, plunging into the undergrowth with not thought but where she placed each paw.
Eventually, Icefang became conscious of cooler air and cold ground beneath her feet. Then the babble of voices reached her ears and shouts of recognition.
"Icefang! It's Icefang – with Redkit! Cinderstar look!"
Instantly, the weight of the kit was lifted from her jaws. Icefang's eyes, which she hadn't realized were tightly squeezed shut, snapped suddenly open. Her jaws tightened on the kit's scruff, a growl building in her throat.
"Icefang, let go of the kit. Giver her to Specklefoot," ordered a gentle voice. Reluctantly, Icefang's fangs parted, and Redkit's warmth disappeared. Confused, Icefang looked up and met Cinderstar's level gaze.
"Is everyone here?" she asked, aware of how rough her voice was.
"No," Cinderstar replied briefly. "But I'm glad you and Redkit are safe." Then his face disappeared, replaced with a similar gray tabby shape.
"We thought you were died. Well, I though everyone was dead, but the idea of you…"
"Save it for later, Stonepelt," Icefang mewed, not in the mood for heartfelt sentiments right now. Still shaken by the events she had witnessed, and been party to, the she-cat padded forward to join the rest of the group. The ThunderClan cats had gathered in a shallow ditch, by the smell of it not far from the Thunderpath. Overhanging branches offered some shade and a reprieve from the heat of the fire.
Anxiously, Icefang scanned the hollow. Eaglepaw, Yellowpaw and Robinpaw were crouched in a trembling semicircle, their eyes wide and staring. Not far off, Shortwhisker and Sparrowpaw were working over Leafspots' limp body. At first a stab of fear went through Icefang's chest at the sight, but then Leafspots lifted her head and mewed something in a tired voice. Relieved, Icefang continued with her assessment. Brightpool was standing protectively over Specklefoot, who was nursing two kits – Dapplekit and Redkit, by the looks of it. It seemed that Poppykit was missing. Hopefully, Icefang glanced around, but to her dismay Mossfur was sprawled in a patch of shade, with Quickstep and Palenose curled side by side nearby. Thrushwing was speaking to Tansyleaf and Ashfoot, her eyes wide and sorrowful. The reason was obvious, Oakshadow, her mate, was not here, and neither was Whitefoot.
"Oakshadow and Whitefoot?" Icefang meowed, looking up at Stonepelt. The gray tabby shrugged.
"They're not back. Poppykit is missing too – Mossfur says he tripped and hit his head on a stone and blacked out – when he woke up, the kit was gone. He nearly killed himself searching for her." Suddenly his eyes grew dark. "Tanglethorn isn't here either."
Icefang tried to calm the shudder that passed down her spine as he uttered the ominous words. But despite the horror of Tanglethorn's death, a mild sense of relief lifted her heart. The deputy had died of a fairly normal accident, as normal as one could imagine during a fire, and his death had been quick and painless, as far as Icefang guessed. There was not much she could have done anyway – he probably would have died before she could carry him to medicine cat at all, and trying to move the branch might have ended up taking her life as well. All in all, none of it was her fault, and Tanglethorn was out of the way.
Cinderstar was pacing near the lip of the hollow, his whiskers quivering. Every rustle of wind in the bushes made him freeze and look up, as if he expected Oakshadow or Tanglethorn to come charging out of the ferns, bruised but alive, but the stillness was heavy and definite.
Night was already falling before Icefang had even settled down, and it occurred to her that she must have been meandering through the woods for a very long time.
"We should send out a patrol and look for them!" Thrushwing meowed anxiously, scared for her mate's life.
"It's too dangerous!" retorted Palenose quickly, her eyes blazing. "The fire could still be going on."
"We can't just leave them out there. They might be dying right now, and we're standing here doing nothing!" Thrushwing wailed. Specklefoot murmured soothingly to her, but both queens' eyes were wide and frightened.
Cinderstar let out a heavy sigh. Thrushwing's words seemed to have awakened him from his thoughts. "She's right," he conceded with a flick of his tail. "Stonepelt, Icefang and Eaglepaw, patrol as far the fire allows – if you come within twenty fox-lengths of it, you will not go further, even if you see an injured cat. I won't lose more warriors than I already have."
"Whitefoot and Oakshadow are not dead!" hissed Brightpool fiercely. "And neither is Tanglethorn! They might have swum across the river for all we know, and they're returning now. Don't lose hope yet."
Cinderstar nodded briefly to her, the barest flicker of pride in his eyes, and then went back to his pacing.
Stonepelt went to speak to Eaglepaw, and then the three cats set out from the hollow and back into the forest. As soon as they reached the place where the fire had started, a genuine sense of dread took hold of Icefang's soul. The trees, at least the few that remained standing, were blackened and sooty, and the ground was covered in a layer of ash two tail-lengths deep. The undergrowth had almost been entirely burned away in some places, making Icefang feel naked and exposed in her own territory.
"So this is what WindClan feels like," grumbled Eaglepaw. Stonepelt silenced her with a growl.
They trekked cautiously along the path the fire had taken, a great sweep of charred forest that looked like a skeletal version of its former luscious self. There was not one single piece of prey to be found, aside from a few singed carcasses that might once have been good for eating. Once Eaglepaw turned over the blackened body of a weasel that was frozen forever in a position of defiance, it's sooty teeth bared against the last enemy it would ever face – death itself.
Finally, as they were coming in sight of Snakerocks, a feeble cry broke the eerie silence. All three cats froze in their tracks, cinders floating delicately in the air around them.
"Who's there?" Stonepelt called, sniffing cautiously. All scents were masked by the overpowering bitter stench of smoke, but a thin breeze blowing from the Thunderpath was enough to shed a little light on the situation.
"Oakshadow!" Eaglepaw shouted, her voice ringing out through the trees.
"I'm here! Over-" a bout of coughing interrupted his words, but the noise led them to a small sheltered grove, where the roots of a tall oak tree twisted together to form a small den at the base of the tree. Ashes lay in drifts against the tree trunk, almost completely obscuring the hole, but over the edge of the gray mound two pale brown ears were visible.
Stonepelt bounded forward and kicked away the pile of ash concealing the hole, exposing a crouching striped figure whose wide yellow eyes flickered cautiously from cat to cat.
"Thank StarClan you're alive!" Stonepelt meowed, nosing Oakshadow to his feet.
"I could say the same of you three," mewed the senior warrior roughly, his throat clogged with smoke. "But is everyone else…?"
"Almost everyone is gathered by the Thunderpath, back up that way. Can you…" Stonepelt was about to say can you walk, but Oakshadow had taken one step and fallen flat on his face. Eaglepaw scrambled to help him up.
"I just…have to catch my breath…" protested the warrior, but his deep gulps of air were interrupted by intermittent wheezes and snorts, and his legs trembled.
"I guess not," Stonepelt mewed with a hollow chuckle. "We'll lead you back to the hollow. You don't happen to know where Whitefoot, Poppykit or Tanglethorn is, do you?" Stonepelt meowed as he propped the warrior against his shoulder and began to walk back the way they had come. It seemed that their feud over Robinpaw and Icefang was forgotten in amidst the disaster of the fire.
"I did see Whitefoot, but it was a while…did you say Tanglethorn?" he gasped suddenly, followed by three or four violent coughs.
"I'm afraid so. Or at least, he wasn't there when we left, and we've been waiting all day," Stonepelt explained matter-of-factly. Only the tremors through his whiskers betrayed his anxiety.
"I never saw him…when the branch fell I just took off," Oakshadow wheezed ruefully. "StarClan have mercy."
The other cats nodded in agreement.
The patrol traveled deeper into the forest this time, although they still avoided the camp by unspoken agreement – no one had gathered the courage to face what might be an empty clearing, especially when it seemed that Greenleaf was coming to a close.
"Hey," mewed Eaglepaw suddenly. The patrol paused beneath the scant shade of a fern that had been reduced to a mere bundle of twigs. "Don't you smell…?" The apprentice lifted her nose to the air once more, and then a sudden light came over her face. "Tanglethorn! Nearby!" Without another word, she turned to run into the undergrowth. Stonepelt too was sniffing the breeze, but instead of joy a look of pure and utter horror took hold of his features.
"No, Eaglepaw, wait, don't –" he protested desperately, but it was too late.
A scream echoed through the grove, sending the hairs on the back of Icefang's neck on end.
"No," moaned Stonepelt, he and Oakshadow stumbled forward, Icefang at their heels, her face carefully composed into a mask of surprise and dismay.
Eaglepaw was standing, rigid as a block of ice, before the blackened trunk of the fallen tree. Not two tail-lengths from her paws was the body of Tanglethorn, crushed beneath the trunk, his fur singed. His eyes were open and glazed, staring into nothing. Icefang cringed. The last thing he saw was me, running away. Another shiver went through her pelt.
"Oh StarClan…no, StarClan, no," whispered Stonepelt, stalking forward. Oakshadow had collapsed against the scorched earth, tremors wracking his thin frame.
"He's dead." Eaglepaw's voice was quiet and almost surprised, but the finality of that one statement sent a wave of emotion through Icefang's body. A new deputy would have to be chosen. This would mean disaster for the Clan – the solidity of their life, only a few days ago so stable and good, had been ripped out from under the feet. Their camp was gone, their deputy, and maybe Whitefoot and Poppykit too, was dead. Yes, thought Icefang to herself, her veins like threads of ice, he is dead. But it was more than just Tanglethorn that had met its end.
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