Chapter 42 – I know, so fast 0.o
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Finally. Finally. It had taken them seven days. An entire quarter moon! And now it had finally dawned on the entire, stupid lot of them. Now, after the agony of waiting, it was time for the beginning. Of what? She thought wryly, and then answered herself with a smile, Of everything.
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A flicker in the deepest blue of his eye. A shudder. An intake of breath.
Others may not have noticed, but Icefang could see that Cinderstar was unraveling. From the inside out, he was slowly and imperceptibly disintegrating.
"I'm sorry Cinderstar," murmured Stonepelt, his voice rough with emotion. "There was nothing we could do. Brightpool is in the paws of StarClan now, and the fox is long gone from ThunderClan territory." The gray tabby hung his head, trying to hide his pained expression. Icefang watched them without expression. Or rather, her face wore the semblance of despair, but inside she was calm, collected – ice.
"No," whispered the leader. "How could this happen?" Cinderstar blinked in disbelief. It was the third time that Stonepelt had repeated the ominous news – that after seven days of relentless searching, Brightpool's body had finally been uncovered, mangled and barely recognizable, her fur tinged with a lingering scent of fox. The revelation had shocked the entire Clan to its core, but for Cinderstar it was ten times worse.
"Why has StarClan cursed my Clan?" he moaned, his thin whiskers trembling. For the first time in many moons he had emerged from his den for a purpose other than eating and drinking. Icefang cocked her head and mused on this thought. It had taken his third deputy dying in one year to actually get the tom on his feet again since the first.
"StarClan had nothing to do with this, Cinderstar," Stonepelt growled, his claws scratching uselessly at the frost. The gray tabby was carrying the weight of the incident heavily on his shoulders, as though it was his fault that the fox had attacked Brightpool. Icefang felt the tiniest bit guilty – he didn't have to beat himself up over a blatant lie.
"How will our Clan survive?" wailed the hollow-eyed gray tom, swaying back and forth like a reed in the wind. Give it ten minutes, Icefang commented to herself, and he'll top right over like a sapling in a storm.
"ThunderClan is still strong, Cinderstar. We will fight to the last breath. We haven't given up yet, and neither should you." Stonepelt's dark gaze flashed to Icefang, and she gave him a half-hearted smile of encouragement that was twisted with worry. "We still have faith."
"Faith!" spat the gray leader, his eyes suddenly ablaze. "Where were StarClan when I needed them? Nowhere. Did they come during the long dark hours when I whispered to them and pleaded for their aid? No! I have no faith." He lashed his tail and got unsteadily to his feet, his thin, emaciated frame shaking with the effort of walking to the Highrock and scrambling to its top.
The rest of ThunderClan had already gathered by the base of the stone, anticipating their leader's address. It was nearly moonhigh – the camp was steeped in tension, making Icefang's skin crawl. Though he gaze raked the crowd, she was listening intently to the sound of Cinderstar's paws on the stone, his ragged breathing and short, intermittent gasps of grief.
"Cats of ThunderClan!" he yowled, his voice strangely strong. It had a vibrancy to it, an almost angry power. "As you are all aware, Brightpool is dead! She was killed by a fox, and now ThunderClan is without a deputy."
Yes, thought Icefang, resisting a gleeful cackle. Finally! Her gaze snapped back to the Highrock. Now every available sense she possessed was focused completely on Cinderstar, on his every twitch and snuffle. If it was possible, she would have squeezed the words out of him with a look.
Stonepelt was desperately climbing the Highrock after his father, his face wild. His striped pelt was dull and unkempt – no one had given much thought to grooming in the past quarter moon. Except for Icefang of course; her pelt was always immaculately white.
"Surely the ancestors have turned their backs on us!" Cinderstar was growling, while his Clan stared at him in horror and dismay. Their leader was gone, and in his place sat a skeletal creature with no remaining morals and eyes like windows to the Place of No Stars. Icefang wouldn't have blamed them for shrieking and running away.
"They haven't!" Stonepelt puffed, coming up beside his father. His tail waved in the air. "StarClan still watches over us."
"And Brightpool is dead!" Cinderstar yowled suddenly. His mournful caterwaul cut through the air like a curved claw, silencing every murmur and whisper of the crowd. It was almost painful, the quiet, the darkness. The moon's light was cold and sharp. Too bright against the black.
In a solemn voice, Quickstep voiced the thoughts on every cat's mind, her words making Icefang's heart leap with fiery anxiety. "The moon is almost at its height, Cinderstar," she said in a low meow. "We have sat vigil for Brightpool, and she hunts in Silverpelt now. We cannot wait any longer. You must name a new deputy or forever forfeit ThunderClan's connection with its ancestors. I feel this. We are at a crossroads, and you must choose the right path. ThunderClan has always trusted you, Cinderstar, and we still do."
The black and white elder stood firm underneath her leader's baleful glare. Eagleclaw, her new name granting her strength, came and stood by Quickstep's side, quickly followed by Redpaw, Ashfoot, and Robwinwing. Icefang gazed at the group fondly. They were standing up to Cinderstar himself for the welfare of their Clan. The leader needed someone now to show him the way.
Without a sound, Icefang crept forward and scaled the side of the Highrock, coming to stand on Cinderstar's other side, opposite Stonepelt. The gray tabby glanced at her in surprised, and then gave a grateful nod.
"Cinderstar, you see," she meowed, guiding his muzzle with a tap of her nose. "Your Clan has faith in you. Not only StarClan. We would have you guide us."
Cinderstar blinked. He breathed once, slowly, and paused, hesitated. His paws clenched. His whiskers twitched. Then he released the breath and seemed to sag. His shoulders drooped. With no warning, the sad-looking warrior stepped forward and called in a rasping voice.
"I say these words before the spirit of Brightpool, so that my Clan may hear and approve my choice. Icefang will be the new deputy of ThunderClan."
No words. Icefang could not think of any words. She did not smile. She did not cheer. She only gave a muted purr, one small twitched of the ear. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She gazed down on her Clan with triumph concealed in a cover of sorrowful acceptance.
"Thank you."
She sighed, frowned. Tried to feel a semblance of guilt, and could conjure nothing.
"I will honor Brightpool's memory, and serve my Clan to the best of my ability."
"Icefang, Icefang, Icefang!"
The moonlight was quiet, cold. Ice.
Finally.