CHAPTER TWELVE

The night was still, the alleys unusually quiet. An owl flew silently over, spreading its wings and blotting out the stars. The scents of carrion and smoke hung heavily in the air. The narrow streets were slicked with ice, and faint specks of snow floated lazily through the air. There was no wind, not even a slight breeze, just a steady cold that seeped through fur and skin to chill the bone.

Two cats lay in a nook of a courtyard wall, their shelter protected from the wind by a small screen of cardboard. A third cat stood outside, seemingly unbothered by the cold, his golden tail curled over massive paws. He swept his piercing gaze over the courtyard, scanning every inch for possible danger. On such a calm night, he was especially alert.

Chantelle lay curled up inside the nook, head resting on her slender black paws. Beside her, Alder rested on his side, languidly telling her all of the things he would do once he became leader. She gave the brown tom her full attention, happy just to be beside him. "I'll whip the patrols into shape," he was saying, "there's too much laziness. You have to reward them for good work, not punish them for the bad."

"I agree," she murmured, though she didn't quite understand all of what he was saying. Alder's mind worked differently than hers or Beck's – it was highly logical, with a train of thought that seemed to veer off the tracks at the slightest detour. Everything made sense to him, however, and she loved the look in his eyes when it did.

He rolled over onto his stomach. "I'm actually very excited," Alder confided cheerfully. "My dad's done a great job, but... I'm going to make it better. This is my city, and I'm going to make us the most powerful band of cats that anyone has ever seen."

"That's great," mewed Chantelle truthfully. She inched closer to him, longing for the feel of his fur against hers. "What about after that, though? You have to have an heir as well..."

Alder frowned, eyes clouding. "I suppose I do," he said at last, tilting his head quizzically. Then the tabby let out a short, barking laugh. "Ah well," he mewed, "I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I get to it! I won't need an heir for several more moons."

"Need?" she asked teasingly, though there was a hint of a whine in her voice. A feeling of uneasiness rose up in her stomach, but she forced it back, not wanting to seem weak in front of her friend. "What about want?"

The tom shrugged. "I don't particularly want kits. Then I would have to divide my time between them and the band. I don't think I would be a very responsible father if I was busy all the time. Those kits would deserve better."

Chantelle nodded reluctantly, waiting for him to ask her why she had brought it up. But Alder seemed oblivious to her thoughts, for he barrelled on, talking enthusiastically about the policies he would enforce if when he was leader. Alder never really asked her about her life, but Chantelle figured it was because her life was so much less interesting than his. Alder probably had more important things on his mind. That was okay – she could live with that.

Then, all of a sudden, a terrible cry shattered the unnatural silence. Chantelle leapt to her paws, and Alder sat up, pricking his ears attentively. She shot him a nervous glance, but as always, the tom's eyes were impossible to read. "What was that?" he asked Beck.

Beck just shook his head. Though he did his best to keep his composure, his eyes were wide. "I don't know," he rumbled. For the first time, Chantelle didn't find the deep timbre of his voice reassuring.

Yowls rose up through the alleys, loud caterwauls that echoed off the walls and the roofs, through the city, a chorus of anger and victory. Chantelle pressed herself against Alder, who was still sitting there, trying to decide what to make of the situation.

Out of the alley closest to them ran a scrawny grey tabby, his fur torn, blood weeping from a gash on his flank. He skidded to a stop as he saw them, yellow eyes wild. "Alder!" he cried out, panting with exhaustion. "Alder, you need to get out now!"

"Fletcher!" exclaimed Alder, leaping to his paws. "What is it?"

"It's your father," said Fletcher between ragged gasps. His eyes were starting to dim now, the blood pouring from flank seemingly infinite. It pooled down around his legs and stained his paws. "They've killed him. Baron's killed him."

The chant swelled up from somewhere in the distance, loud and terrifyingly clear. "Baron! Baron! Baron! Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Chantelle woke with a start. Beside her, Alder stirred in his sleep. She cast a worried glance at the brown tom, not wanting to wake him. When she was sure he was still asleep, the black she-cat carefully rose to her paws, trying to shake off the cold sweat the dream had left on her skin. She shivered as she exited into the ThunderClan camp, wondering who else would be up at this hour.

To her surprise, there were a few cats milling about the clearing. The sun was beginning to rise overhead, casting an orange hue on the thick layer of snow blanketing the ground. Chantelle padded out into the sunlight, grateful for the scant warmth. Feeling slightly better, she cast her gaze around the camp, analyzing all she saw.

Three cats were waiting by the slope out of camp. The first was a large ginger-and-white tom that she recognized as Nettleclaw, the Clan's deputy. He was followed by a long-haired silver tabby, a she-cat nearly as big as Slatestar. The last cat was smaller than the others, a scrawny tom with off-white fur. He was following the silver she-cat around like a kit follows its mother, though Chantelle judged that they were probably mentor and apprentice. The side of her mouth twitched upward into a bemused grin. The Clan certainly had odd customs.

"Good morning," said a voice from behind her. Chantelle whipped around, expecting – or perhaps hoping – to see Alder, but she knew she would have recognized his voice instinctively. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with the golden-brown tabby who had spoken to her earlier. Elmheart, she remembered.

"Good morning," replied Chantelle guardedly. "What's going on?"

"Hmm?" Elmheart looked momentarily confused. Then he followed her gaze towards the group of cats, and understanding dawned across his face. "Oh. That's just the dawn patrol going out."

"The deputy goes on patrols too?" she asked.

Elmheart nodded. "Here in ThunderClan, we share the duties."

"Where I was..." Chantelle began, stopping herself when she realized what she was saying. "It just seems... strange to have a cat in a position of power doing menial work, that's all."

He chuckled. "It's not really menial work. Like I said, we share the duties. Everyone puts in equal work, whether it's by patrolling, hunting, or training the apprentices. Even Slatestar goes out. He doesn't just sit in his den all day – he'd get lazy that way! When you're part of a Clan, you look out for each other. That's why we make sure that the elders and kits are fed first."

Chantelle thought back to her dream, to the memory of the conversation she and Alder had shared. "Are you close to your families here?" she mewed.

Elmheart paused, and a flash of pain was momentarily visible in his vibrant green eyes. "Siblings are usually very close," he replied hesitantly. Chantelle felt bad for touching a nerve, and yet it was a new experience to see a tomcat as honest as this with his emotions. The golden tabby took a deep breath before continuing. "As to whether or not we're close with our parents... some are, the rest of us, usually not. You are when you're a kit, but you grow apart. That way it hurts less if your parents don't stay together."

This caught her attention. "Stay together?" she mewed. "Where Alder and I are from... well... we didn't see many toms and she-cats that stayed together. Toms simply came and went, leaving the she-cats to deal with the kits. Love was rare there. But here...it seems common."

Elmheart shrugged. "Sometimes it's there, sometimes it isn't. If you're lucky, you fall in love with a cat of your Clan. If you aren't lucky... you either have kits for the sake of having them, or you don't. It's that simple."

The jovial tone was fading from his voice, but he didn't seem reluctant to share this information with her. It took Chantelle a few moments to realize that this warrior was confiding in her. The sensation was new to her, and it sent a strange spark through her body. "What about your parents?"

"There's a fun story," mewed Elmheart wryly. He looked sideways at her. "I'm sorry if I'm depressing you. I know things are hard enough already, and I don't mean to burden you. I just... I used to have a friend I could talk to about anything, but... not anymore."

"It's fine," Chantelle reassured him. Alder had never talked to her about feelings, had never even opened up before. She had always fought to see past his shell, past the walls he kept putting up. She had been inside them once, and she had loved what she had seen there, yet... seeing it was all too rare. "I don't mind. Your parents?"

"Nettleclaw and Larkflight," mewed Elmheart softly. "They were very much in love. Then they weren't. Well, Nettleclaw was still in love with her. But Larkflight, she moved on. That's all there was to it. We don't talk about it much... there's not a lot of gossip within the Clan. Things happen, you all learn about it, and then you move on. But... he hasn't, you know? He's my father, and I feel close to him. I can see how much it hurts him to look at her."

Chantelle was silent for a very long time. "I'm sorry," she said at last, not knowing what else to do. It was something that Alder would have said – he would have apologized for their trouble, except he himself wouldn't have been affected by it. He would have extended his condolences, but there was no real empathy there, not that he showed. But Elmheart, it hurt him to see his father hurt. He seemed like a strong cat, an emotionally powerful one, yet he was sensitive to the feelings of others.

She really needed to stop comparing everything to Alder. It was probably unhealthy. Yet Chantelle admired the tom so much that she used him as a standard by which to measure every other tom's actions. It startled her how different Elmheart was. The other Clan cats, they had shells too, but Elmheart didn't. He was kind and open, and he trusted her.

"Not your fault," said Elmheart. There was another pause, and then the cheerful grin slid back over his face. "Now then, how about we go hunting? I bet I can catch more than you!"

Chantelle felt her breath hitch in her throat. "Actually," she began, "I'm not really that used to the forest. I find it intimidating."

"Oh." Elmheart paused. Then his brilliant green eyes began to sparkle. "How about I show you around, then? The forest isn't scary at all once you get to know it. I promise it'll be fun."

"Right now?" asked Chantelle nervously.

Elmheart nodded and bumped his shoulder against hers. "Right now. Let's go!"

The black she-cat felt like she would soon regret this, but the warrior's enthusiasm was contagious. She grinned despite herself, infected and enthralled by his good mood. "Alright then," Chantelle said. "Let's go."

.

The forest turned out to be not quite as scary as she had first thought. Elmheart took her to the training hollow first, regaling her with stories of his apprenticeship, when he had been learning how to fight. After that, he lead her to the tallest tree in the whole forest, a great oak that stretched far above the leafy canopy. "I tried to climb that once," Elmheart said as they stood there, staring up at it. "I didn't make it very far before I got scared."

"You, scared?" Chantelle asked teasingly.

He grinned. "Fear is an important emotion for any warrior to have. It keeps us from doing anything too mouse-brained. Come on, I want to show you where I caught my first bird!"

It was a beautiful day outside, Chantelle had to admit. The sun was warm, the snow thick and stable beneath her paws. A goshawk flew above them, leaving a keening note wavering in the air behind it. The rich scents of gorse and bark filled the air around them. Sunlight sparkled off the glimmering ice, illuminating the forest in golden hues.

She turned to look at Elmheart. The golden-brown tabby looked perfectly at ease in the forest, comfortable and confident in his skin. His eyes were radiant as he turned to look at her, his whole body soft and relaxed. "I love days like this," he mewed quietly. "It's like the sun can touch every corner of the forest and chase out all the darkness."

"Elmheart..." Chantelle suddenly didn't know what to say. She only knew that Elmheart was being honest with her and trusting her, and that she wasn't extending the same courtesy to him. "I need to tell you something."

His face contorted into confusion. "What is it?"

"Alder and I..." She took a deep breath. "We're not actually mates. We just said that so you would feel sorry for us and take us in. The rest is true, though – we really do need shelter and food, and we will be moving on soon."

There was a very long silence, and the she-cat could tell that Elmheart was weighing his words carefully. The golden tabby had a pensive look on his face, almost torn. Chantelle felt her pace quicken with nervousness, though at least she couldn't see any outward signs of anger. Elmheart seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, so that was a good sign...right?

"I can't say I'm happy to hear that," Elmheart said at last, voice grave, "but I appreciate your honesty. I won't tell Slatestar about this, but I think you should. As for Alder... you're not mates... but you still love him. I can tell."

"How do you know?" asked Chantelle quickly, words escaping her mouth in desperation. Her face was burning with embarrassment now. Were her feelings that obvious to everyone around? What did they think? Did they feel bad for her, assuming Alder would never love her back? She wanted to bury her head in the snow.

"It's not hard to tell," said Elmheart offhandedly. When he saw the look of mortification on her face, his eyes went wide with horror. "No, Chantelle, I'm sorry! I don't think any less of you, I swear. I had feelings for a she-cat that didn't return them once too. I know that it's awful and I know it makes you want to die. Please believe me when I say that I'm not judging you!"

His words made her feel slightly better. Chantelle moved closer toward him, and Elmheart mirrored her, taking a few cautious steps in her different. Then she leaned forward and pressed her muzzle to his cheek, inhaling his scent. It was different than Alder's, muskier, with an earthy flavour. She could scent the snow, scent the leaves, all the different trees, the whole forest – and it was all on his skin.

Elmheart had frozen beneath her touch. Reluctantly, Chantelle moved back. "I'm sorry," she said, unable to explain her actions. "I just... I wanted to feel you."

The ThunderClan warrior bent down, locking his gaze with hers. His eyes, filled with confusion and longing and perhaps guilt, searched hers. "Chantelle," he mewed, voice hoarse. There was some sort of desperation in his voice, a raw desire. Not in the way a tom wants a she-cat, but in the way that a cat wants to be loved, to be touched, to be cared for. "I never meant to give you the impression..."

"No," she reassured him hastily. "You never did. I just thought..."

Then he was pressing his body against hers, pulling her against him with his tail. Chantelle placed her head against his chest, sighing as she felt his chin rest against the top of her skull. Being enveloped like this, wrapped in his scent and warmth, it was overwhelming. A small part of her wished she could stay there forever. "Well then," mewed Elmheart, "don't think."

x x x

"Glad you could join us, Russet." Baron's voice was pure silk. The reddish-brown tom was sitting at the base of a large granite rock, half-hidden by the stone's shadow. Around him sat a circle of his most trusted fighters. Flynn and Carrionpaw sat closest to their leader, while three others finished the circumference of the group. Russet recognized Steam, with his ragged white pelt and grey tail, along with Zero, a massive black tomcat. The last cat was Anya, the she-cat who reminded him of Lilypaw. Hard and lean, she had the same silvery-blue fur and intelligent yellow eyes, though her pelt was crossed by scars.

Russet approached the circle slowly. Anya and Zero moved aside to make room for him, and he sat between them, keeping his shoulders straight and his gaze hard and flat. It would not do to show weakness, not now. His plan was simple enough: kill Alder, replace Needle as Baron's second-in-command, and move on with his new life. The only thing standing in his way were the Clans.

Of course it would come back to them.

"How was your hunt?" asked Baron. The tom had given him the responsibility of leading a hunting patrol through the wooded fields. Russet had felt uncomfortable with the task at first, especially considering how short his time here had been so far, but he soon controlled the patrol with ease. Leadership came naturally to him.

"It went well," he mewed steadily. "We caught enough. A few mice, a rabbit, and a pheasant."

Nodding in approval, Baron fixed him with a pallid gaze. "Notice anything unusual?"

Russet was ready with his response. "A stale scent of badger. It's probably been gone for a quarter moon now. Nothing to worry about, but we should still be on guard."

"Good," said Baron softly. He lifted his searching stare from Russet's face and turned to address the group at large. "Now, the reason that I have called you all here. You six are the only ones who know the truth of our journey – that we are seeking Alder, the son of the former leader. He poses a threat to my son, Shaw. That cannot be allowed. We believe he is taking refuge with the Clans – ThunderClan, to be exact. That's where Steam traced his scent."

In the past week of travel, they had made considerable ground. The rogue force was now sitting on the hill above the lake, patiently biding their time. The others were beginning to be more vocal, wondering what was going on, and Russet knew that Baron would have to address them soon. But for now, he was content to share his plans with only his elite fighters – and Russet was proud to count himself among them.

"What do we do?" asked Zero, his bass voice echoing off the stone.

Baron looked at him in silent approval. His grey eyes betrayed no emotion, but the tilt of the chin gave away his thoughts. "Now we go to them. We give them a choice: give us Alder, or we'll take him by force."

By force. They might have to fight ThunderClan. Russet's stomach felt queasy at the thought. He supposed he should be happy that it was ThunderClan, yet there was a small part of him that wished it was RiverClan. He longed to see his former Clanmates again, to rub his success and power in their face. I wanted to protect you, he would scream, and you rewarded me with exile. Are you happy now? He would take all of Toadstar's lives one by one, peeling back the tom's skin, making his blood run through the rushes...

Another part of him wished it was ShadowClan, just so he could see Sootclaw bleed.

Baron turned to Flynn. "I'm entrusting you with this," he mewed softly. "You and Anya. Give them my ultimatum. In the meantime, we'll prepare for battle."

XX XX XX XX

A/N: I have now written three chapters in two days. This has to be some kind of record for me! I'm really happy with this one. I didn't expect so much to happen between Chantelle and Elmheart, but...they're both hurting. Chantelle has never been physically close to Alder before, and Elmheart, well, he hasn't felt wanted for a very long time. Elmheart is a cat who has always been very open about his emotions, and he's confused now. He likes being liked, effectively, and he wants someone to care for. Chantelle...she's nervous and insecure. She's latching on.

Next chapter, we see the result of the rogues' decision from Kitetail's POV! He talks to Alder a little bit more – after all, someone has to. We also check back in with Grainstar and see how he's making out as he enters RiverClan. I'm really excited for his storyline, and he's also given me the idea for yet another new character, though this time he'll be having an impact on ShadowClan...

Well, review response time!

Coqui's Song: You are the worst kind of evil, yes you are. Thanks for finally reviewing, though, it's really great to hear from you again! D'aww, yeah, poor Sootclaw. I wonder what would have happened if she had told him. I don't even know if his mind could have processed it.

monkeyCsaw: I'm really glad you can see the characters growing! It's something that I aspire to do, but I'm not always conscious of it. I think they just evolve in my mind and I hardly notice. It was actually Prin Pardus who gave me the blog idea, so I'm seriously considering it. I'd love to have pictures and theme songs up for all of my babies.

Sierraleaf: Now now, we wouldn't want to make poor Sootclaw jealous, would we? Elmheart and Dawnpaw...their story is definitely unresolved as of right now, and I promise I won't leave them hanging like this.

KittyKat8888: Shredtail and Worm... they're definitely not good characters, to be sure. I'm glad you can't make up your mind about Shredtail, though, it shows my plan is working ;) Thanks for the fantastic review!

Butterfly that flies at dawn: Thanks!

Thunderous Intentions: Thank you for the great comment, I'm really happy you see her that way :)

Justsmile77: Put out an ad on the internet, mindlink penpal wanted, haha. Thanks for the fantastic review! Now, if you had a mindlink with someone...what would your colours be? How do you think your feelings would be expressed? I'm curious. :P

Dragongabi: You're amazing, you know? Thank you so much for your kind words :) Maybe in the future, Dawnpaw will express her feelings...then again, maybe not.

Thistlethorn of Shadowclan: In that case, I'll work on it! Glad you liked the heartbreak bit, it killed me a little to write.

Juniperleaf of BlazeClan: Careful now, I happen to be a ginger too, haha! In all honesty, Dawnpaw is the one cat I have never been able to fully picture. The others? Easy peasy. Dawnpaw - not a clue, apart from the basics. It's odd. The void is a fantastic word for it, I was always stuck on how to describe it, so thanks. Lastly, I really don't mind the rambling, so feel free to continue.

The Last Clan: I think that was a good thing that it was heartbreaking? :P Thanks for the review, glad to see you back!

Honeycloud of RiverClan: Aww, that's sweet, thanks!

Gottalove: Hmm, Shredtail and Thickfur do have their similarities, though in the end, I think that Thickfur is a far more selfless character... but I'm not sure if Dawnpaw realizes that yet, haha. Thank you for the fantastic review; I'm blushing. :D

I'll hopefully have a playlist for one of the main characters (most likely Soot) done by the next chapter.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)