CHAPTER NINE

"It's not your fault."

The sun was bright, blindingly so. The snowdrifts sparkled with radiant light, forcing Thickfur to turn his eyes to the ground. The scent of ThunderClan cats was heavy in the air around him; it was familiar, a scent of leaf and mud and stone, though right now it did nothing to comfort him. The tom was seated beside the nursery, where Cherrytail had placed herself beside him, attempting to cheer him up.

Her voice was meant to be soothing, Thickfur knew that. Yet all her words seemed to do was irritate him, pushing on the frustration that lurked under his skin, threatening to turn it into a roiling boil. He had never been good with keeping his temper, and his sister knew that. So he kept his shoulders hunched and his eyes on the ground, hoping Cherrytail would read the subtle cues and leave him alone to wallow in this strange mix of guilt and self-hatred.

It was getting better, too, he thought wryly, shutting his eyes and wishing everything would just fall away from him. Everything was getting better, and then you just had to go and ruin it by falling into a coma. He couldn't decide who he was more upset with, himself or Dawnpaw. No, Thickfur couldn't tell whom he hated more. Why would you do that to me?

"You don't know that," he said softly. Each word felt like it was being pulled out of him. A heavy swell of nausea rolled through his gut.

"If your meanness was enough to make her lose consciousness, it would have happened already," the ginger-and-white she-cat pointed out. Thickfur knew she was trying to be practical, trying to make him feel better, but all he felt was annoyance. Cherrytail didn't understand, didn't know what it was like, and her words reeked of immaturity and inconsideration.

"My meanness." Thickfur's voice was hard and flat. He knew the rest of the Clan wasn't a fan of his unorthodox training methods, but he had always assumed that they understood what he was doing. He was pressing her, he was stern, but he wasn't cruel. To hear Cherrytail put it so simply – it hurt.

"Don't act like you don't know," she mewed chidingly. "I know you're not a bad cat, but you're not the kindest mentor either."

For a fleeting moment, the grey tabby wondered if his sister even knew what she was saying. There was a loss of understanding between them, a huge chasm, as if they were on two different wavelengths that were still drifting apart, even after moons and moons of separation. "Then don't act like you know what it's like to be a mentor," said Thickfur. His words were biting, though he was still holding most of the anger and the irritation back. "You've never been one. You don't understand the pressure or the responsibility. I have dedicated the past five moons of my life to Dawnpaw. Solely to Dawnpaw. And what matters isn't my feelings or her feelings – it's how she'll serve the Clan as a warrior."

He heard her exhale and slowly turned to look at her. They were sitting beside the nursery, removed from the centre of camp where others had gathered to share tongues. The day was sunny but cold, and the chill in the air bit at his skin. Thickfur felt it more acutely than he had before; he felt more sensitive to the slightest changes now that Dawnpaw was gone. Cherrytail was watching him with worry shining in her eyes. "You've taken too much stress upon yourself," she murmured. "You're fixated on this. There are more things in life than duty."

"Fixated?" he scoffed, feeling the anger push up in his throat. "Fixated? Just because I'm sticking to my responsibilities doesn't make me obsessed. Slatestar gave me a task, entrusted me with solemn duty, and now I have to honour those expectations. I don't give up. That makes me mature."

"You always do this," Cherrytail insisted, and he could hear the note of panic in her voice, the plea. "Ever since mom – "

"Stop!" he yowled, cutting her off. Cherrytail must have heard the raw desperation in his voice, for she fell silent. Thickfur dug his claws into the ground, aware that his outburst had drawn the attention of some nearby warriors. He knew they thought he was crazy, that Dawnpaw's accident was weighing down on him, and it made him so angry. Usually, he didn't care what others thought. But the last thing that the tabby wanted was pity. "That doesn't matter anymore. We've moved on. Grow up, Cherrytail."

"Grow up?" There it was, the anger that was customary to their family, the flame that Slatestar had learned to bury and that Thickfur had to constantly control. Cherrytail's eyes narrowed. "I'm a mother, Thickfur, in case you hadn't noticed. I have a kit. I am more responsible for him than you will ever be for Dawnpaw."

"A kit?" Thickfur sneered, and he knew he was crossing a line. It felt like he was plunging headfirst into the lake, but there was no one to stop him, no one to pull him back. "You are fully responsible for Limekit, aren't you? And that's why? Because his father isn't here. His father, who was a traitor, both to his Clan and to the code. His father, who never loved you, but used you. A father whose two sons disappointed him so he needed to make another?"

Cherrytail slashed him, her claws raking across his face. He didn't see it coming.

Pain leapt, white-hot, in front of his eyes. Thickfur fought the urge to cry out, instead gritting his teeth as he felt blood, warm and sticky, seeping into the fur on the side of his muzzle. He had deserved that, he knew it in every fibre of his being. He was self-destructive now. He had lost his purpose. Lost the one thing that would grant him absolution.

"He's right there," she hissed, pointing to the nursery with her tail. Venom dripped from her words, seeping into his wound, hurting him that much more. "How dare you." Then she turned and walked away without a second glance.

.

The sun rose and set, and still Thickfur's muzzle burned. He had pushed the incident out of his mind, too angry to fully rationalize. He knew he would start to blame her, and the bitterness that lingered wasn't worth dealing with at the moment. He would think about it later, when he had returned to a more rational state of mind.

The night was cool, the air calm, with a light dusting of snowflakes floating down from the sky. Thickfur felt them gently kiss his fur as he padded toward the Highledge. Slatestar had called a meeting, and they all knew that it would be about the Gathering. There was nothing particular exciting about this moon's meeting – tensions between the Clans had been running low for awhile now, though WindClan was still being mysteriously quiet.

The grey tabby sat down beside Kitetail, silent as he wrapped his tail around his paws, and listened as Slatestar named the cats that would be going to the Gathering. Thickfur watched as his father stood atop the Highledge, calmly gazing down at the assembled warriors below. He would have given anything to have his father's composure, his steady gaze, but Thickfur knew it wasn't possible. They were simply too different.

He was among the cats named, which didn't come as surprise. Slatestar probably didn't think it was wise to leave him in camp with the loners. The cats who would remain at camp would act as their guards, but Thickfur was easily provoked, and he all knew he might end up lashing out at one of them instead. His formerly stoic composure had been slipping lately, and if there was one cat who would notice, it was Slatestar.

"Elmheart, Larchstripe, Grasscloud, and Beechclaw will stay here to keep guard over camp," mewed Slatestar. They all knew he meant guard it from what was already inside. "Kitetail will also stay, to keep watch over Dawnpaw."

The others looked slightly surprised at that, but Thickfur let out a huge sigh of relief, some of the queasiness in his stomach now settled. He was slowly coming to the realization that he cared too much. Dawnpaw was just his Clanmate, and not even a particularly respectable one. She was whiny and weak and conversations between them were stiff. He was supposed to turn her into a good warrior, and look out for her, but he wasn't supposed to like her.

"Whenever everyone's ready," said Slatestar, leaping down from the ledge. Thickfur blinked, realizing he had missed some of his leader's speech. He was grateful that Slatestar had left a good amount of cats to guard the camp. He didn't trust the loners, especially the one that acted like their leader, the brown tabby. He gave Thickfur a bad feeling, a queasiness in the pit of his stomach. The grey tom shuddered. He would be far happier once they were gone.

The cats that had been chosen began to congregate by the camp entrance. Thickfur padded over to them, looking up at the sky as he did so. The sun had just set – they would be there earlier than the other Clans, if only by a little bit. The warrior found himself standing near Cherrytail and quickly distanced himself from her, still angry from their earlier argument.

He knew she was only trying to help him, but why couldn't she see that she was just making it worse? The front of his muzzle stung, and he swiped his tongue over it absentmindedly. Thickfur had been too proud to go to Kitetail for help – and he was avoiding the medicine cat's den in general – but he had taken a look at it in the lake and it didn't seem like it would scar.

She had no right to bring that up, he thought darkly. No right.

Owlfeather fell into step beside him, mewing an amiable greeting. Thickfur returned it dully, and the grey-brown warrior seemed to take the hint. They walked in comfortable silence as they followed the others though the forest. As they walked through the darkened forest, Thickfur wished he could simply blend into the night. If he could only reduce himself to a shadow, to a scant wisp of fog in the moonlight... it would be so easy.

It would be enough for him.

.

When the Gathering began, there was only one cat that Thickfur looked for: Sootclaw.

The grey tabby ground his teeth, swinging his massive head from side to side. The ShadowClan tom was nowhere to be found. Thickfur had already located the ShadowClan contingent, huddled together at the far side of the island, but he was unable to lay eyes on the smoky grey warrior. Where are you?

Casting a quick glance toward the rocks at the front of the island, Thickfur saw that the leaders were assuming their positions, almost ready to begin the meeting. A quick pulse of panic ran through him: he needed to talk to Sootclaw before that happened. He needed to do it here; another border meeting would be too risky. The last thing he wanted to do was break the warrior code. Thickfur knew how it happened; he had seen it before. It started small – little, clandestine meetings – and evolved into something much larger. No, he had to abide by the code.

"Thickfur!" called a voice. It was calm, pleasant, but there was a hint of desperation that instantly identified its owner to the massive tabby.

He turned around, recoiling slightly at the ShadowClan stench. Sootclaw. The dark grey warrior was right there. He was looking better than the last time Thickfur had seen him – more sleep, perhaps – but there was still that anxious look in his eyes that gave away his inner turmoil.

"How are you?" asked Thickfur, trying to be polite. "Is the prey running well in ShadowClan?"

Sootclaw nodded. "I'm well, thank you," he mewed curtly. Then, gesturing with his tail, he added: "Follow me. We'll talk over there."

The ShadowClan tom led him over to a clump of bracken at the edge of the clearing. They passed through it, squeezing by a pair of frosted rowans, and padded out onto the shore of the island. The sand was cold underneath Thickfur's paws, and in front of him, a thin veil of ice coated the lake. It was beautiful, in a way, peaceful and serene. If it had been any other night, Thickfur would have enjoyed the calm.

"So," mewed Sootclaw, once they had settled down. "Tell me everything from the beginning."

Thickfur felt a stab of irritation at being addressed so casually by the younger tom, but pushed it aside. "We were out training, doing some work on sneak attacks and taking your opponent by surprise, when she suddenly collapsed. I rushed her back to camp, and Kitetail said she was in a coma. He doesn't know how long she has until her body starts to fail from lack of nutrients. I thought you might be able to tell me what was happening to her." The words were heavy and lethargic in his mouth; he hated talking, and for an fleeting moment, had the odd desire for Sootclaw to be able to read his mind.

The ShadowClan warrior took a deep breath. "It's like I said... Dawnpaw was there one moment and gone the next. I can't find her at all. I've tried, I really have. You said... she's in a coma?"

Thickfur nodded. Despair burned at the back of his throat. Some small part of him had been foolishly hoping that this meeting would provide him with a solution, but it seemed like Sootclaw was just as confused as he was. "Non-responsive. Can you try harder?"

Sootclaw slowly shook his head. No. "There's nothing I can do."

Frustration coursed through him. Thickfur cursed himself internally. He shouldn't have been expecting anything. He shouldn't have even let himself hope. "Let me know if she gets in contact with you. I need to know."

Sootclaw nodded, frowning. "I will."

Nodding, the ThunderClan tom turned to go. StarClan help me.

"StarClan can't help us," murmured Sootclaw in a quiet voice. The words were directed more at the ground than at Thickfur, but they still sent prickles down his spine.

"What?" he barked.

Sootclaw looked up, surprised. "I said they can't help us. I don't expect you to believe me, but I've talked to them, Thickfur. And from what they've said... we're on our own."

The ThunderClan tom frowned, digging his claws into the snow-dusted sand. He must have spoken out loud. "We should have a signal," he said, desperate to change the topic. "In case something happens. We'll know to meet up."

Sootclaw nodded. "The clearing between ThunderClan and ShadowClan. If anything happens, we'll leave a white branch lying in the middle. That should do it."

"Alright," mewed Thickfur slowly. It seemed like a good plan, though it did nothing to quell his anxiety.

A silence fell between them, uncomfortable and heavy. "What's..." Thickfur swallowed his pride, for once indulging his curiosity. "What's it like, for you and her...?"

The ShadowClan warrior looked taken aback. "It's..." he trailed off, eyes narrowing in confusion. He seemed to be searching for words, and Thickfur suddenly wondered if he had crossed some sort of line.

A yowl split the cool air. The two toms looked up, startled, and Thickfur realized that the Gathering must be starting now. He exchanged an awkward glance with Sootclaw, who seemed to be eager to get back to his Clanmates. Thickfur couldn't blame him.

"Just... keep calm," said the dark grey warrior, though he sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself than anyone else. "We'll figure this out."

"Right," said Thickfur.

And that was that.

As Sootclaw walked away, Thickfur took a deep breath. The ShadowClan warrior had been right about something: he needed to keep his composure. As much as he wanted to snap, he had to reign everything back in, and exercise that self-control he had been using for the past several moons. The scratches on his muzzle were a stinging reminder of what happened when you let your emotions get the best of you. It was a lesson he had been trying to teach Dawnpaw for moons, and now he had to follow his own advice.

No emotions, he told himself. No emotions, and we'll figure this out.

x x x

Kitetail sat by the edge of camp, gazing up at the night sky. The moon was full overhead, bright against the dark sky. Flakes of snow drifted by, staining his muzzle and shoulders. The air was cold, and so he had his limbs pulled in tight to his body, his brown tabby fur fluffed up against the wind. The tom's mouth ached with the taste of bitterness. He would have given anything to be at the Gathering and to see Sootclaw. He missed his brother so badly that it hurt.

"Are you alright?" The voice was foreign to him. Kitetail twisted around to see Alder padding toward him, looking unfazed by the brutal chill. The brown loner seemed calm and in control, his eyes perfectly neutral. His tone was concerned, but polite.

"Yeah," he mewed, feeling a prickle of discomfort run down his spine. He hadn't particularly taken to the loners, though they seemed nice enough. Still, the medicine cat wasn't exactly eager to get to know them. He knew why Slatestar had let them in, that perhaps they were sent by StarClan, the key to unravelling WindClan's strange behaviour, but the brown tabby wasn't so sure.

Alder seemed to sense his uneasiness. The loner sat down where he was, keeping a fair distance between them. "You don't like us very much, do you?"

"I don't dislike you," said Kitetail truthfully. He had nothing against the trio., yet with Falconswoop's memory hanging over him, he had trouble trusting anyone unless they did something to earn it. He had become comfortable with ThunderClan easily enough, but that was different. They had been accommodating and kind, and at the very least, they knew to follow the warrior code. "But... three loners show up in leafbare, seeking hospitality... It doesn't seem right to me."

"I'm sorry," said Alder, though the medicine cat wondered if he really meant it. While Beck and Chantelle were easy enough to figure out, Alder was an enigma – he was polite, calm, and confident, yet Kitetail had the feeling that he was hiding his true self underneath a carefully sculpted mask. "We don't mean to impose. It was just... it was necessary."

Kitetail coughed. He knew Alder's apologies and softness were meant to set him at ease, but Falconswoop had taught him, if inadvertently, to never be fooled by what was on the outside. He wouldn't pass judgement on Alder until he got a chance to find out was underneath. "How's your mate – Chantelle?"

"Doing better," said Alder softly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," murmured Kitetail, remembering what the loner had said about his newborn kits dying from the cold. Maybe that was why Alder was so reserved – he was hiding his grief and his pain underneath a steady exterior. The thought immediately brought Birchcloud's face to his mind, and the tabby cringed. The grey tabby had been his mentor all but officially.

"Me too," said Alder, with a grimace. He sat casually, as if unbothered by the weight of the world, his tail wrapped over his paws. Though the breeze blew through his fur and dots of snow speckled his pelt and muzzle, he didn't react to the cold. "Kitetail, can I ask you a question? I've heard some rumours – you're not from ThunderClan, are you?"

His words struck Kitetail. He would never renounce his ShadowClan heritage, never discount his brother, Flowerpaw, Birchcloud, or any of the others, yet he didn't want it to define him. He was of ThunderClan now, and he didn't want the first thing anyone learned about him to be his past. "No, I'm not," he mewed quietly. "I wanted to be a medicine cat, and ThunderClan needed one. This is how it worked out."

Alder narrowed his eyes. "Why? What happened to ThunderClan's previous medicine cat?"

The thought of Brindlefeather and Branchpaw made Kitetail sick to his stomach. Dawnpaw had explained it to him as best she could, though he still felt like she was holding something back. The fate of the previous ThunderClan medicine cat was not something he liked to talk about. "Branchpaw... we don't know what happened. He snapped, went insane, killed his mentor – Brindlefeather – and ran off. We had to find him and... stop him. It was his sister who finally killed him. Dawnpaw. She's the one who's sick now."

For a long moment, the loner was silent. He sat there, illuminated by the moonlight, his eyes gazing off into the distance. Kitetail suddenly felt wrong, as if he was witnessing an intimate moment, a show of vulnerability that no one was ever meant to see. Then Alder blinked, a slow, languid movement, and turned to face him once more. "It seems like ThunderClan has been through a lot recently. I'm... sorry."

Kitetail frowned, confused. "Sorry? For what? What happened wasn't your fault."

"No," agreed Alder calmly. "It's just... never mind." He shut his eyes again and turned away, signalling that their conversation was over.

Well, Kitetail wasn't ready for their conversation to be over. He cleared his throat to get the tom's attention, not sure what to say except that he needed to say something. "In my opinion, never mind... it's never good."

"It isn't your concern," said Alder quickly. The vulnerability was over, the steely composure back on his face. His tone was reassuring, yet Kitetail felt like there was something that the loner wasn't tell him. He could detect these half-truths easily, but it frustrated him that there was nothing he could do about it.

"Right," said Kitetail. Without a second glance, Alder turned and walked away. For some reason, Kitetail felt compelled to watch him go. His eyes followed the lean brown tabby as he padded towards the den, intrigued far more than he should have been. Right.

XX XX XX XX

A/N: Hey dudes! It's been awhile! :) I've been extremely busy with work. I've actually had this chapter written for a long time and just never bothered to proof-read and put it up. I took some extra time to edit it, and I felt that it was worth it, though I'm a little worried it won't be up to par. But here it is! Not much to say, other than it's fairly uneventful. The next few should be better, though you'll have to forgive me - it will be difficult to ease myself back into my characters. It's actually Fogpaw next turn, so that should be fun. Whee.

Anyway, Thickfur is angst-ridden in this chapter, but I promise it's his bottom - at least for now. He's going to try and keep himself more composed from now on. Less wallowing!

Ranger of the Forest: Thanks for the great compliments! As far as DawnxElm goes, I see why you have reason to be upset, but don't be so quick assume that Chantelle is going to end up as his mate ;) Elmheart has a lot in front of him...

Hawkeyes of Shadowclan: Heh, don't worry about Shredtail. Or maybe you should...

Flyere: Branchpaw's in StarClan, which means that Branchclaw is back in the Dark Forest and probably up to no good. Thanks for your review! :)

Frostfeather: Actually, Shredtail and Worm are both affected by the nightmares. They just suffer through it. And you're right, I did promise to finish it, so here's another chapter for ya :)

The Last Clan: Fogpaw's next, so you're in luck! Also, I have trouble writing female characters, for whatever reason, so I'm glad you think Dawnpaw's doing well! I always worry about her.

monkeyCsaw: Oh my goodness, that you so much for that in-depth review! I can only hope that this chapter didn't disappoint. As for Elmheart, I believe that he gets a POV in the next book, which admittedly is still a very long time away.

Thistlethorn of Shadowclan: I should update more, I know, I'm so sorry!

Sundusk: Right now, haha, I'm sorry it took so long. Thanks for the review, I'm glad you love them :)

MaggienToby: Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm happy you're enjoying them! Yeah, poor Sootclaw is all torn up about it... he's gonna learn that nothing like this is ever easy.

Butterfly that flies at dawn: Because if she wasn't, the story wouldn't work ;) You'll see. Thanks for the review!

Juniperleaf of BlazeClan: I went to work :(

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)