CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Russet's heart was hammering so hard he wouldn't have been surprised if it leapt from his chest. He stood where Baron had placed him, in the front row of their battalion. Anya stood beside him, a dark grin plastered on her face. Again, she reminded him of Lilypaw, and for a brief moment, the dark red tom was very glad they were not fighting RiverClan. He quickly removed the thought from his mind – he would fight RiverClan if he was ordered. His former life didn't matter anymore. There was only this one now, under Baron's command.

Flynn was on his other side, so confident, still beaming cheerfully. Beside him stood Carrionpaw, scowling. The dark brown tom was licking his chest, but though his actions were casual, his whole body was tense. There were about twenty of them in total, far more than were needed to overpower ThunderClan. That was one weakness of the Clans, one of many: they weren't very large. Russet curled his lips, exposing his fangs. The Clans were pitiful. He had realized this a long time ago. They didn't understand the price that freedom and safety cost. He had understood that. Falconswoop had understood that.

In the distance, the sun was falling into the earth. The sky was streaked with hues of orange and purple. The air was chilly, but Russet was used to the cold now. He had been just a kit during his first leafbare, born with the first snowfall. It was a part of him. He belonged to the cold, to the snow. If he closed his eyes, he could see the many streams of RiverClan frozen over, glittering in the sunlight. It was one of his earliest memories, when his mother had taken him out of camp to explore. Later, as an apprentice, Toadstar had brought him to those same streams to learn to fish. Russet flinched at the thought of his former mentor. Pure hatred rolled through him, roiling and streaming, warming him against the wind.

Baron stood at the head of their little militia. It was time for his speech. The burly tom looked calm and composed. His reddish-brown fur was flecked with snow, and his cold, pale eyes were expressionless. He looked down at them all from his position on a frost-covered stump. The tom commanded attention so easily. His every movement was filled with power. "So," he said, at last, voice heavy. "Some of you are probably wondering why we came out here. Some of you know for certain. I'm sure everyone has at least an idea. I'm going to clear that up for you right now. One word: Alder."

There was some muted whispering among the gathered cats, but the silence soon returned. Russet had a feeling that most cats had guessed their purpose already. It had been a little odd to begin with. Baron had whisked a group of them away from the city, leaving the rest of the band in the paws of his second-in-command. Russet felt a thrill run through him. If he was the one to kill Alder, if he proved himself in Baron's eyes – he could soon occupy that position. He straightened his shoulders and held his chin a little higher, trying to catch his leader's attention.

"Let me be perfectly clear: there is only one goal tonight. We find him and we kill him. Whoever lays that killing blow shall be rewarded greatly," said Baron. His icy gaze swept the assembled cats. Russet shivered as it passed over him.

"What about the cats we're fighting, them who live in the forest?" asked a cat somewhere behind Russet. "Do we kill 'em too?"

Baron's eyes flashed. He offered a slight shrug. "If you must. I don't want to kill the whole Clan, mind you. There are three more of them, and invoking their collective anger would be a bad idea. But we must secure Alder at any cost. So if anyone gets in your way – yes, feel free to kill them."

"Baron," called another cat. He sounded nervous. "I've heard things – stories – about the cats who live here, how they can call down forest spirits to help them in battle. Is that true?"

A contemptuous look appeared on Baron's face. "Who said that? Shrew?" His voice was taut.

There was a slight pause to Shrew's voice when he answered. "Yes sir."

"Come up here, Shrew," said Baron. His voice was perfectly calm, his eyes giving nothing away. Tension sparked in the air. Russet held his breath. Baron was unhappy right now. Something very bad was about to happen.

Hesitantly, Shrew left his rank and picked his way through the assembled rogues until he was standing in front of Baron. Russet got a good look at the tom. Shrew was nothing more than a thin scrap of dusty brown fur. He bowed, waiting for Baron to speak.

"Are you really scared of these so-called forest spirits, Shrew?" drawled Baron. Condescension flashed across his face.

"Not scared, sir – beginning your pardon," mewed Shrew. He was starting to shake. "It's just – I thought we should be prepared for anything. I weren't trained to... to fight no forest spirits."

Baron leapt down from the stump and circled Shrew, who was concentrating very hard on the ground in front of him. Russet could have laughed if he wasn't filled with apprehension about the events to come. Shrew was a weakling, of course, who deserved whatever he got. Forest spirits. The very idea of it was ridiculous. But Baron was scary, and Russet was very, very glad he wasn't in the thin tom's paws.

"Forest spirits aren't real," said Baron gently. He narrowed his eyes. "But I'll give you something to be scared about." With that, he reared back and slashed Shrew across the side of his cheek. Blood dripped onto the white snow underneath. Shrew let out a pitiful cry, like a kitten's mewl. Russet snorted in contempt. Baron heard the noise and caught his eye, and for a brief moment, Russet thought he caught the hint of a smile.

Then Baron turned back to Shrew, who was staring at the blood on the snow with an expression of disbelief across his face. "Be scared of me," he mewed, "and what I'll do to you – all of you – if you fail me tonight. Like I said, forest spirits aren't real – but I most certainly am. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," murmured the assembled cats. Baron's gaze swept over them once again and Russet ducked his head. Had he merely imagined Baron's smile earlier, or did the reddish-brown tom really approve of him? Excitement, sharp as electricity, ran through Russet. This was his chance to make a difference, to be someone. Toadstar hadn't seen his potential, but Baron did.

"Let's go," said Baron, turning away and signalling with his tail. Shrew was left to scrabble after him, dripping blood in the snow. Russet watched him with the utmost contempt. If Shrew had been a Clan cat, he would never have been able to become a warrior. For all the Clan's faults, they held their cats to a high standard.

The battalion began to move, walking in rows. Russet leaned over to Flynn. "Why did Baron bring Shrew along in the first place?" he asked quietly. "He doesn't exactly seem useful."

"Heh," Flynn chuckled. "As pitiful as Shrew is, he's a good tracker. He's from the woods, not from the city, and that makes him valuable out here. At least it did, before he found Alder. Now he's useless."

Russet looked at the cream tom in disbelief. "He's from the woods and he actually believes in forest spirits?"

Flynn shrugged. "The Clans are something most of us haven't encountered before. Cats like Shrew, cats with little minds, they'll believe anything to explain what they don't understand." His grin was still present on his face. The lieutenant looked as though they were heading off to find some she-cats as opposed to heading to a battle.

In fact, before they had left on this mission, Russet had rarely seen Flynn unaccompanied. The handsome cream tom was usually followed around by at least two or three she-cats, all vying for attention. He supposed having the kits of a lieutenant was a status symbol of some sort. Russet himself had been offered she-cats, but he had turned them all down. He told himself it was because he had bigger things to worry about, that it didn't have anything at all to do with Lilypaw, and sometimes he even managed to believe that.

Lilypaw. What would she think of him now?

It didn't matter. Russet chased the thought from his head. He had to have a clear mind. He would kill Alder tonight. Baron would pick him as a new second-in-command, and nothing else would matter after that.

.

They poured into the quarry fast as a river and silent as the night. Above them, the sun had set, and darkness reigned. Russet was near the front as he ran down the slope into ThunderClan camp, his heart pounding in his ears. The wind whipped at him and snowflakes covered his pelt, but the dark red tom felt no cold. He was alive with the heat of battle, ready to tear fur and flesh. His mouth was singing for the taste of blood. All of his anger at the Clans, all of his fury that had built up over the past few moons, was in his paws, ready to inflict as much damage as possible. He hoped ThunderClan knew who he was. He hoped they told RiverClan. He hoped Toadstar knew what his apprentice had become.

He hoped Toadstar felt guilty.

They arrived in the centre of camp, grouped together. All was quiet. Russet opened his mouth to scent. There was ThunderClan scent all around him, but something was off. There was something darker that burned his tastebuds. He shut his mouth quickly and looked around. There was no sign of life. His skin prickled.

Something was wrong.

Then the enemy was upon them. They came yowling from every direction, leaping and scratching and biting. There was one on his back before Russet even knew what was happening. He rolled over, trapping his assailant underneath him. The other cat yowled in pain, but to Russet's surprise, pushed him off with incredible strength. Russet, landing hard on the ground, took a moment to pick himself back up. His attacker had already moved on.

What was going on?

Cats were everywhere, fighting. Paws whipped through the air as fast as whirlwinds. The clearing was alive with noise. Doing a quick scan, Russet saw that they outnumbered ThunderClan at least two to one. Baron was over in the corner, throwing cats off of him with ease. Russet watched him for a moment before turning around. He recognized the rogues, the cats on his side, but among their enemies, there was no sign of Slatestar or Nettleclaw, ThunderClan cats he was sure to recognize.

Again, there came an awful feeling of wrongness.

Someone came at him. Russet dropped to the ground and let the cat sail over him. He got and whipped around, finding himself face-to-face with a large ginger tabby. Russet froze for a brief moment. This wasn't any ThunderClan cat. This was Thornfur, deputy of WindClan. What was going on?

Thornfur came at him with surprising speed. Russet tried to dodge the attack, but Thornfur's claw caught his shoulder and dug into his pelt. Russet bellowed in anger and spun around, kicking up with his hind legs. They caught Thornfur straight in the chest. The deputy exhaled loudly, stumbling backward. Russet twisted around and leapt at him, claws extended. He managed to land hits on Thornfur's face before the tom ducked and drove his head into Russet's ribs. Russet gasped as he was knocked to to the ground, the air stolen violently from his lungs.

As he struggled to regain his breath, he watched Thornfur above him. The deputy was strong, but not this strong. There was something else going on, and he suspected it had to do with the awful, acrid stench burning through the air around them. Just as Thornfur prepared to cast a final blow, another shape knocked into him and pushed him off-balance. It was Carrionpaw. He fought Thornfur with ease, while Russet watched, dumbfounded at the lieutenant's strength. In all of his sparring matches, he had never fought Carrionpaw or Flynn. Now it was easy to see why.

He scrambled away quickly, looking for an easier target. None of the rogues seemed to realize they weren't fighting ThunderClan. How would they? They didn't know this cats. Russet had to find Baron and get him to retreat. They needed a new plan.

A cat leapt in his way. He was smaller and skinnier than Thornfur, but the same darkness burned in his eyes. Russet frowned as he recognized him. "Rootpaw?" he asked. This wasn't the same Rootpaw that he remembered. He had met the young tom at a Gathering. He had been shy and polite. Not like this. Not at all.

The dark tabby spat. "Rootfur, now," he said. There was a deepness infused with his voice, something that was not his own. Russet just stared at him, hesitation grabbing his heart and stalling his legs. He didn't want to fight Rootfur. The tom had never done anything to him. He didn't deserve to be hurt. He had always been so innocent. And now, it wouldn't even be fair – Rootfur clearly wasn't himself. Russet didn't know what was going on, but it was clear that Rootfur would never have acted like this out of his own free will.

Russet cursed his weakness under his breath. He couldn't fight Rootfur. Not now, not like this. He backed away, keeping his eyes on the tabby to make sure that there were no surprises. Rootfur watched him go, his eyes blank. Russet knew he could have taken him. He knew it in every inch of his soul. But...he didn't. I just saved your life.

Hopefully Baron hadn't seen his moment of hesitation.

He disappeared back into the fray. It was clear that Alder wasn't here. They needed to leave. Russet caught sight of Baron, fighting against a beautiful white she-cat that Russet recognized as Frostpool. Before he could go to Baron's aid, there was a pressure on his back, pain in his shoulder, and he was knocked to the ground.

"Don't try anything, kittypet," hissed a familiar voice in his ears. "I'm going to enjoy killing you."

Russet grunted and pushed himself up, managing to dislodge the weight. The she-cat above him stumbled to the side, managing to keep her balance. He looked her over. Ashpoppy. Another WindClan warrior. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"I don't answer to the likes of you," she snarled. "You might not be our intended target, but I'll take pleasure in your death anyway."

Russet stepped to the side as she lunged at him. What was wrong with these cats? Ashpoppy caught herself before she passed him and swung around with claws outstretched. He ducked under the first, but winced in pain as the second sliced along his neck. He felt blood seep out and soak into his fur. Ignoring the ache, he retaliated, slashing at her with his own claws. She ducked under them, a smirk on her face. Enraged, Russet leapt at her, bowling them both over.

She struggled, but he managed to keep the upper paw, pinning her down. Blood dripped from his neck onto her silvery fur, making dark crimson stains. Slowly, casually, he placed his claws above her neck. He could slice it right now; end it.

Suddenly, he was no longer there. He was back in the ShadowClan camp, perched over Hailstripe, seeing the deputy's scared eyes underneath him. Hailstripe had refused to beg for his death, which had infuriated Russet to no end. He had been so close to killing him when Falconswoop had decided to end the matter himself.

Now it was Hailstripe underneath him instead of Ashpoppy. Russet took a shaky breath. "Beg for your life."

Mustering all her strength, she spat in his face. "No." The violence of it took him by surprise, and she managed to use that to her advantage, flipping them over. Russet hardly knew what was going on. He did the only thing he could. He reached forward and dug his fangs deep into her throat. Blood spurted from the wounds and gushed into his mouth. The taste of it overwhelmed him. The tom didn't hesitate. He tightened his jaw and pulled. Skin and fur followed his movement. Hot blood exploded from the wound, covering him in its spray. He shut his eyes as the steaming droplets landed on his eyelids.

When he opened his eyes, Ashpoppy was lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood, her throat completely torn out. Russet could only stare down at her. I did that, he thought. It was me.

"Good job." He looked up to see Baron silently watching him. Russet frowned. Why was Baron just standing there. Why wasn't he fighting?

Baron must have seen his confusion. "Look around," he said gently.

Russet did as he was told. The camp was clear now, except for the rogues. WindClan was gone. A few bodies lay littered on the ground, though thankfully there weren't many dead. WindClan mist have fled when they saw that they were losing. Russet let out a sigh of relief and padded forward to examine the dead. Ashpoppy, of course. Shrew was dead too, his body shredded. Beside him lay a WindClan apprentice, eyes closed peacefully. Russet felt nausea threaten to overwhelm him. Mudpaw had been too young for this battle. There was another rogue, a tawny she-cat by the name of Ciara, and a final WindClan cat. Mintpool. Thornfur's mate.

Russet fought the revulsion rising through him. The taste of blood was still strong in his mouth. Baron padded to stand beside him. "Was that your first kill?

"I knew her," said Russet quietly. That made all the difference. For all he had dreamed of tearing out Sootclaw's throat, the act of it was much different than he had expected. "I don't understand... this wasn't ThunderClan."

"No," said Baron, with a sigh. "There's no sign of Alder. They must have evacuated when they knew we were coming. Any idea why the other cats were here?"

"They were WindClan," Russet mewed, clarifying for his leader. "I...I have no idea. What now?"

"We head back to our camp," said Baron, jerking his head. "Rest up. Heal our wounds. Let ThunderClan believe that they're safe. We'll strike again when it's time."

Russet nodded, still feeling sick. "Will we...will we give them another warning?"

"What do you think?" asked Baron in contempt. Russet, realizing he had made a mistake by saying that, allowed Baron to finish. "No," said the reddish-brown tom, "they already had their warning. Next time, there will be no mercy."

"Right," said Russet.

Baron noticed his hesitation. "You did well," he mewed. It was odd to hear a compliment coming from him. "Keep it up. You could become a second-in-command yet."

Russet watched as his leader signalled for the others to follow him. He hesitated for a brief moment before trotting after him. The others followed, falling back into line. As they marched out of camp and through the forest, the moon lighting their path, Russet realized they had left the bodies where they lay.

He closed his eyes. He needed to forget about that. If he wanted to succeed, he could have no mercy. What had happened with Rootfur – that would never happen again. Baron hadn't shown any remorse over Shrew's death. Russet had to be the same. It was caring for others that was the problem. Caring was weak.

And yet, part of him still wanted to be sick. The battle had been nothing like he had expected. The scent of darkness and death was still heavy on his tongue, the metallic taste of blood strong in his mouth. Each pawstep was a battle in itself. Ashpoppy's death weighed down on him. It didn't matter that it had been in self-defense. Killing was supposed to be easy, and it had been, at the time, but right now, Russet didn't know what to think.

Flynn sidled up to them. "Well?" he asked. "Enjoy your first taste of blood?"

"Very," lied Russet. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. As he heard Flynn laughed, he wondered, for the first time since this had all begun, if he really was doing the right thing.

He had to be. It would get easier, he was sure.

XX XX XX XX

A/N: Happy New Year! Here's the first update of 2013! I started this trilogy in 2011... we'll soon be coming up on the 2-year anniversary. Wow.

I haven't written Russet in awhile, so the writing quality is eh and a more than a little stiff, but I feel like this is passable. He's getting his first real taste of blood and death, and realizing there's no pride in it the way there is when he wins sparring matches. The poor guy is still trying to convince himself that this is what he wants, that he wants to be part of Baron's army. He thinks it'll just get easier. It might, or it might not. We'll just have to wait and see!

The battle happened. It didn't really last too long – neither of the sides wanted to kill the other, but it hurt them enough that they'll be licking their wounds for awhile, giving ThunderClan some time to come up with a decent plan – hopefully.

As I said earlier, the next chapter is going to go back to Fogpaw and Chantelle. This chapter is a bit shorter than the recent ones I've been posting, especially last chapter, but the next one should be fairly substantial, since we're getting two POVs. After that, it's back to Sootclaw, and then Thickfur.

Now, even though ThunderClan has this brief respite, don't go thinking it's going to be easy for them. There's something very bad about to happen to them in about three chapters. Hope that keeps you worried!

Honeycloud of RiverClan: Is it really that improbable that the cats could come up with a name for the passing of all four seasons as a way to mark time? They count their age in moons; therefore they could reasonably count the number of moons it takes to go through all the seasons, aka twelve moons or a year. I'm not saying they define a year as exactly 365.24 days, and I know the lunar cycle isn't exact, but they would understand it as a broad concept. Yeah, the Erins might not use it. I don't really care. If you don't like it, don't use it in your own stories.

FlyingSteps: Aww, thanks for the review! I'm glad Thickfur is growing on everyone.

AnarchySpider: First, your drawing of Kitetail was absolutely wonderful. Second, here's your battle update! I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for the wonderful review; I really appreciate it.

Coqui's Song: I remember when you gave me a dissertation on how much you loved Sootclaw and hated Thickfur. Seems your affections are fickle, haha. Honestly though, Thickfur is just... I am absolutely in love with him. I wish I could promise you his life will be full of happiness, but as you know, I am a writer.

Justsmile77: Oh hey, good to hear from you again! Yeah, Kitetail made things kinda complicated. Oh well. As for Beck, he's keeping to himself. He's not a very sociable cat, though I'm assuming he doesn't stray too far from Alder, being his bodyguard and all.

Senora Sapphire: Unfortunately, Dawnpaw's not coming back for a bit. She's definitely making progress though, and you'll soon see the reason I need to keep her down there. Thanks for the lovely review, by the way, it's always appreciated!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)