CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

One moment, everything was normal. Fogpaw lay in her nest, trying to pretend she was back in RiverClan camp, arguing with her brother over who would get to be the leader in their next mock battle. There was something wrong in her head, something buzzing, something which prevented her from even remembering Rainpaw's face. She could see in it her head, but it was blurred, off-focus, as if hidden from her behind a wall of water. Rainpaw, she thought, reaching for him. She had always complained about him, always hated how pompous he was, how good he was, but now she missed him more than ever. Would she ever go home?

And then the snow began to fall. The flakes came slowly at first, dappling her forehead and her muzzle and soaking into her thick grey fur, and then they began to arrive faster and faster. Soon all Fogpaw could see out of her prison was a sky of pure white. The snow began to accumulate around her paws and she suddenly realized what was happening – she was going to be snowed in.

A cry rose up in her throat and she threw herself at the slope of the prison, desperately trying to scrabble up the steep wall. There was no more rational thought in her head, only the desperate need to escape this place. Adrenaline coursed through her, replacing her weakness with strength. She needed to get out of here. Snowflakes fell into her face and blurred her vision. Wind rushed into the prison, bringing with it the piercing cold.

Then the voices reached her. "Get her out, now!" That was Stormtail's voice.

"Yes, Stormtail!" said another voice hurriedly. Fogpaw recognize it as Cloudstorm, one of the warriors who accompanied Willowstar during the torture sessions. Cloudstorm spoke again: "Stripedpaw, Gorsetooth, come with me."

Fogpaw heard their footsteps approaching the den and she backed away out of instinct. Soon, the vine at the top of the den was thrown over the side and she watched as it dangled in front of her, unguarded. This was her chance. But something held her back. She watched as Cloudstorm's face appeared over the entrance, his eyes narrowed. "Climb, kittypet. Grab onto it."

She hated complying with them, hated it with a burning passion. Fire blazed within her, and for a moment, she was tempted to deny them the pleasure of saving her. But she forced it down, recognizing that her life was worth more than her pride, and she lunged forward, clasping the vine in her jaws.

They began to reel her up and she used her legs to support herself, pushing off against the steep wall. Her limbs protested but she forced them to keep working. There was no time for weakness, not now. Soon she emerged over the lip of the hole, out of her den, and into the real world once more.

What would have been her first real look at the WindClan camp was obscured by the blizzard. There was snow everywhere, and she could barely make out what was right in front of her nose. Cloudstorm was by her side, pressing her forward, while Gorsetooth padded behind her, giving her a nudge when she stalled. Stripedpaw followed them, anxiety written across his skinny face.

"Come with us," said Cloudstorm gruffly.

Fogpaw couldn't resist the opportunity to spite him. "Where are we going?" she asked, digging her paws into the ground. She wouldn't move until she got some answers.

The white warrior cuffed her over the head with a wide paw. Fogpaw winced at the blow, ducking her head and trying to hide her pain. The WindClan tom spat on the ground by her feet. "You aren't in a position to ask questions. We just saved your pathetic hide from being swallowed by the snow."

"After kidnapping me and torturing me," said Fogpaw, unable to resist pointing it out. It was odd, observing these warriors. Even though the darkness was all around them, asphyxiating them, there was a hint of WindClan underneath it all. Cloudstorm spoke with his own voice, not the voice of the darkness. He was more normal here than he had been around Willowstar, and Fogpaw wondered if WindClan's leader was the source of the darkness.

No, the darkness didn't come from her. But perhaps she was its focal point. Fogpaw stowed that possibility in her mind. It was an interesting thought, to be sure. Casting a glance at Cloudstorm, she wondered if he was fighting the darkness somewhere in his mind, or if he had already succumbed to it.

The tom narrowed his eyes. His hackles were raised and the fur on the back of his neck was fluffed menacingly. "Come with us," he repeated, barely suppressing a growl. "I will hurt you if I have to."

Deciding it wasn't wise to antagonize him any further, Fogpaw ducked her head and did as she was told. Her ear was still smarting from the blow and as the adrenaline rush died down, she became more away of the pain and the cold and the piercing wind than before. She had become so skinny and weak during her captivity that she was surprised the wind didn't just knock her to the ground.

Eventually, they reached a den that Fogpaw guessed had once been the nursery. The scent of milk and kits was present, though faint, overcome by the acrid stench of the darkness. Cloudstorm motioned for her to enter, which the she-cat did reluctantly.

"Gorsetooth will guard you," he said, voice biting. "Don't try anything. We would hate to have to hurt you." There was something sickeningly sweet about his voice that burned her. It was as if the darkness was winning again, pulling him back into its tender caresses.

Fogpaw shook her head. Tender caresses? Where had that come from? She froze for a moment, horrified at the idea that the darkness might be around her, trying to get in, plying at her thoughts. She gritted her teeth. There was no way she would let it overcome her. She would not turn into one of these sorry excuses for warriors.

"Cloudstorm," said Stripedpaw hesitantly.

The white warrior whipped around to look at him. "What?"

"She might be, umm, shocked by the sudden changes," mewed Stripedpaw, looking at his feet. "Can I bring her some poppy seeds to calm her down? It might be for the best. I mean, you don't want to lose the progress you've made."

Cloudstorm snorted. "Fine."

Stripedpaw left and Fogpaw stared after him with wide eyes. What progress? What was he talking about? Was there something Stripedpaw wasn't telling her? She felt her breath catch in her throat. Maybe Stripedpaw was working for them. Maybe he had been lying the whole time. But no, he couldn't be. Fogpaw had seen how scared he was, and she hadn't scented any of the darkness around him.

Gorsetooth settled himself by the front of the den. "Don't try anything," he told her with a sneer.

Fogpaw found the strength to roll her eyes, one more act of defiance, and settled in the corner of the nursery. It was warmer here than in the den, and there were some scraps of moss lying around that she rolled together to form a bed. If the blizzard had brought her an upgrade in prison quarters, she couldn't complain. Besides, being above ground meant an easier shot at escape.

Escape. If only. It would be so nice to return to RiverClan. All she wanted was to lose herself in her mother's embrace and feel safe for the first time in over a moon. Fogpaw let out a deep breath, imagining that she was burrowing her face into her mother's fur. She tried to remember her mother's scent, but it was gone. Fogpaw searched for it desperately, but the memory was lost. The realization made her cry out, a deep, keening moan.

Gorsetooth looked back, slightly startled by the noise. Fogpaw wilted under his gaze and moved to the back corner of the nursery, curling up into a little ball and trying to pretend none of this was real. She closed her eyes and pretended she was made of light, shining in the darkness of WindClan camp. Dark tendrils reached for her and she burned them away with the strength of her brightness.

Once again, she thought: if only.

Stripedpaw returned not long after. He padded slowly into the den, his head down and his shoulders sagging. Fogpaw narrowed her eyes, not sure where her feelings currently were on the tabby tom. If there was one word to describe him, it was coward. He could help her escape, she knew it, but he simply refused.

"I brought you poppy seeds," he said, dropping a bundle by her feet.

Fogpaw stayed silent, eyeing him warily.

"Fogpaw," he whined, refusing to meet her gaze. Once again, she wondered what had made him so frightened of her the last time they had met. "Please, eat them, you'll feel better."

"Why do you care?" she asked, satisfaction running through her as she watched him flinch. She knew it was childish to hold this vendetta aginst him, but it felt so good. It was a small victory, a sense of power that ran through her and helped her cope with everything that WindClan had done. She might be a prisoner, but here, facing Stripedpaw, her words made a difference.

He cowered in front of her. "They'll help."

"Why does it matter how I feel?" she asked, voice low so Gorsetooth wouldn't hear. "What are they up to, Stripedpaw? What do they need me for? The darkness isn't infecting me. We both know I'm not going to be able to spread it back to RiverClan – so what's left?"

Stripedpaw finally met her gaze. His golden eyes were wide with fear. The tom cast a nervous glance toward Gorsetooth before replying, his voice hushed. "They can't let you go now, not if it isn't working. You know too much."

"So why not just kill me?" It was question Fogpaw had been wondering for awhile.

Stripedpaw simply shook his head. "It's complicated."

The grey she-cat spat on the ground. "Try me."

"You're an experiment," he mumbled. "A weapon."

Fogpaw blinked. "What?"

"Stripedpaw, how long are you going to take?" Gorsetooth's voice, heavy with menace, cut through the cold air.

The two apprentices exchanged a nervous glance. Stripedpaw ducked his head. "Look, I should leave," he mumbled. "I'll be back later. Eat your poppy seeds!"

She watched him leave with narrowed eyes, anger and confusion both burning inside her. Fogpaw heard the tom chat with Gorsetooth, and she tracked his footsteps as he padded through the clearing back to the medicine cat's den. She even heard the rustle of gorse as he slipped inside. After that, the only soon was the wail of the wind, the soft patter of falling snow, and the rhythmic beat of Gorsetooth's shadowed heart.

.

As night fell, Fogpaw pretended to sleep, taking care to make her breathing seem as steady and as deep as possible. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, monitoring her guard with her newfound hearing instead. Gorsetooth had been replaced by Rootfur. Her new guard was both smaller and younger than the previous tom, and it gave her an extra rush of hope. There was a chance her plan could work after all.

After what felt like forever, she heard a scuffing noise, the sound of Rootfur rising to his paws. Cracking her eyes open, Fogpaw watched as her guard padded away from the nursery entrance, presumably to make dirt. Seizing her chance, she crept forward, making sure to keep her belly low to the ground. Her mentor had shown her this crouch on the first day of training. Whitestream. They had barely gotten to spend any time together, but right now, Fogpaw was grateful for the time they had.

She approached the clearing. Rootfur was gone, though for how long, she wasn't sure. There were no other cats in sight, and even if a warrior did pop his or her head of the den, there was no way they would see her through the thick curtain of snow and darkness. Cautiously, she pulled herself into the clearing and made her way toward the camp's exit.

So far, so good. No one stopped her as she silently padded through the camp. Except for the faint sounds of breathing coming from the dens, she could have sworn the place was abandoned. The stench of darkness was stronger in the centre of the clearing, and she barely stopped herself from gagging as it hit her.

Finally, after her painfully slow journey, Fogpaw reached the path out of camp. Letting out a sigh, she began to ascend.

"Where are you going?"

The she-cat nearly jumped out of her skin. She whipped around to see Stripedpaw staring at her, his golden eyes wide. The tom must have been sitting there for awhile. "I couldn't sleep," he told her, almost sheepishly. "I never can. But you can't leave."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you going to stop me?" Fogpaw challenged.

Stripedpaw opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Listen..."

"No," she mewed. "I'm done listening. I'm getting out of here. Come with me if you want, or get out of my way."

There was a long moment of silence. Fogpaw held her breath, praying to StarClan that the skinny tom wouldn't raise the alarm. His golden eyes met hers and she stared back, unwavering. The only sound was the blood pumping through her, the thud of her heartbeat echoing through her bones.

"Go straight once you leave camp," said Stripedpaw, at last. "Follow the ridge. It will bring you to the lake, and you can follow the shore from there. It isn't the shortest route, but it'll keep you safe from the snow."

Fogpaw blinked in appreciation. "Thanks," she said, rather awkwardly. The she-cat turned to leave, conscious of Stripedpaw's eyes on her back. Fighting the feeling of unease rising within her, she took off into the night.

Leaving the camp, Fogpaw was immediately overwhelmed by the wind and the cold. Snow whipped at her pelt and all she could do was tuck her head in and move on. She was colder than she had ever been in her life. All she could think about was making her way back to RiverClan. It would be warm there. Warm, and safe. Rainpaw. Reedthroat. Morningstep. Whitestream. Toadstar. Her list of names gave her the strength to carry on.

Trudging through the huge drifts of snow, Fogpaw made her way across the moor. Eventually, she found the ridge that Stripedpaw had mentioned. Following it, she forced herself to keep moving. The ridge blocked a portion of the wind, and Fogpaw found that the sky in front of her had cleared. The snow was beginning to lessen. Casting a glance up at the stars, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her warrior ancestors really were watching over her.

She began to wonder what she would say when she returned. There were no words to describe the soul-numbing torture that had rocked her to her core. The she-cat was both weaker and stronger as a result. Her body ached and burned, but her mind and her heart continued to push her forward. Thank you, StarClan. She was so close now.

The ground underneath her feet began to rise and Fogpaw pulled herself up the slope. Once at the top, the view took her breath away. In front of her lay the lake, still and black as the night. Fogpaw felt her chest clench and she began to tremble, choked up by the sight. She hadn't seen the lake for so long. Her body ached to bathe in it just as she had when she was a kit. The water was always so cold, so refreshing, so good. It was cleansing.

How she longed to be clean.

Fogpaw began to make her way down toward the lake, excitement pounding through her. But she hadn't gotten very far before the harsh stench of the darkness reached her. Suddenly afraid, Fogpaw froze, hoping that if she stayed still, she wouldn't be noticed. As she waited, the WindClan scent drew nearer.

No. This couldn't be happening. Fogpaw was so close, she was so close. The she-cat looked around, hoping that by some miracle she was close to the ThunderClan border and could seek refuge there. But she was directly in the middle of WindClan territory, and as she stared out into the moor, she saw three dark shapes sprinting toward her.

WindClan.

Fogpaw had no choice. She ran.

The she-cat threw herself forward, desperately plunging through the snowdrifts, trying to make it to the lake. She didn't know how it would help, only that the water would made her feel safe. From behind her, there was an angry cry. They had noticed her frantic sprint.

Fogpaw kept her eyes focused on the lake. She was almost there now. She could make it before the WindClan cats did. Maybe they would be too scared to walk on the ice. She could go out on the lake and leave them far behind; it wasn't a very good plan, but it was the only one she had. Gritting her teeth, Fogpaw made a final, desperate push to reach the shore, fighting through the ache in her muscles. Her chest was tightening and then she was no longer able to propel herself forward, barely clearing the next snowdrift. The exhaustion tugged at her. All she wanted to do was stop.

But she couldn't stop.

The ice was right in front of her – and then it wasn't. Thornfur, the deputy, stood in front of her, staring her down. Fogpaw had already thrown herself forward – it was too late to stop. The grey she-cat ducked and slid right under the tom's legs. The deputy must have been taken by surprise, for he let out an angry cry and spun around.

Fogpaw groaned. She had come to full stop and was lying on the ice, her head spinning. The last vestiges of the adrenaline rush stirred within her, and the she-cat pulled herself to her feet, staring back at the shoreline. Thornfur was calmly making his way toward her, his eyes as cold as ice. Cloudstorm and Frostpool followed him, their bodies tense and ready to spring.

"Come here," commanded Thornfur, obviously annoyed. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

He took another step forward and, for the first time, Fogpaw realized how huge the ginger tom really was. She shrank away from him, taking a skittish step backward. The ice underneath her paws groaned slightly. Fogpaw froze, more frightened by the noise than she would admit. Ice always sounds like that, she told herself, reciting her mentor's words, it doesn't mean that it's going to break.

"Trust me, you don't want to make Thornfur angrier than he already is," said Frostpool, in her lilting voice. It was so soft, so tender, so dangerous that it send shivers down Fogpaw's spine. "Just come with us and I won't let him hurt you."

Fogpaw glanced back and forth between the WindClan warriors. How had they found her? Had Rootfur or another cat seen her escape? Immediately, her mind shot back to Stripedpaw. It couldn't have been him – could it?

Cloudstorm answered her unspoken question. "It was your little friend Stripedpaw who ratted you out – I guess you couldn't trust him after all, huh? Poor little Fogpaw, so betrayed."

So that was it. This whole time, Stripedpaw had just been a ploy to gain her trust. Fogpaw cursed internally. It was obvious; he had even told her to take the long route, so that the patrol could catch up. She had let herself be played. Of course they would offer her a friend. Of course they would give her hope, just so they could take it away. They wanted to break her. Their goal had never changed, this whole time. Fogpaw wondered if the whole thing had been orchestrated – moving her den, having Rootfur slip away. It didn't matter. The end result was the same.

Fogpaw took another step back. "Stay away from me," she said, trying to sound confident.

Thornfur moved closer, followed by Frostpool. The she-cat's eyes glittered with malice, keen and intelligent. It was the darkness that Fogpaw was seeing as Frostpool met her gaze. It was pure evil.

The RiverClan she-cat took another step backward and felt the ice groan again, louder than before. Fogpaw froze, hardly daring to breathe. The ice was still. Then, feeling more confident, she took one more step backward.

The ice cracked.

She barely had time to register that before Thornfur bounded toward her. The ice cracked again, louder, and gave way under their combined weight. Suddenly there was nothing but air underneath Fogpaw's paws, and she fell into the icy cold water.

There was only darkness. She cracked her eyes open and saw a glimmer of light as it filtered through the icy water. Everything was so cold. The frigidness seeped into her fur, her bones, her heart, turning everything to ice. Fogpaw stayed there a moment, suspended in the lake, hardly daring to move. All she wanted to do was sleep, to let this darkness overtake her.

In front of her, Thornfur floated past. The tom was heavier than she was, and the water was pulling him down with fierce strength. His eyes were wide open, vacant, as if whatever intelligence had been controlling him had slithered away, leaving the shell of his body to die.

Then reality set in, along with the panic. She let out a muffled scream, but only bubbles rose to the surface. The she-cat kicked her legs, trying to push herself up to the surface. But the water was heavy and pulling her down. It wrapped around her legs and tugged and for a second she wondered if it would be easier to just let the lake take her.

Her lungs began to scream. Fogpaw ached to take a breath, but doing so would mean letting in the water and the cold and the darkness. The sheer pain began to overwhelm her. Her eyes fluttered back into her head.

Darkness.

She could hear voices from miles away. "Grab her, quick!"

Something grasped on to the scruff of her neck. Jaws clenched down on the skin.

"Got her." A different voice. Muffled.

"Pull!"

Fogpaw's lungs felt like they would burst. She fought the desire to open her mouth, fought her own body as it worked against her, forced herself to stay calm. Don't breathe, she told herself. Just don't breathe.

Then the cold and the darkness were too much, and a terrible stillness overtook her. The sight of Thornfur's empty gaze flashed on the back of her eyelids.

Fogpaw went limp.

XX XX XX

A/N: This chapter went very differently than how I had originally planned, and I couldn't be happier! (The original ending simply had her return to WindClan camp, captured – this alternate ending is going to take us on a different, and much more exciting, path!) It's a little shorter than I had hoped, but eh, it just means we'll have longer ones later.

I know I said we would see Sootclaw this chapter; I guess I lied. That said, we're finally going back to Dawnpaw next chapter. She's been travelling through the Dark Forest for almost a moon now, and she's almost at the end of her journey – StarClan. That said, things might not go as expected. Then Kitetail again, and I promise we'll work some Grainstar in – we haven't even seen how RiverClan has reacted to him!

I'm going to try and get another update within the next week (depending on how late I can force myself to stay up and work!). That said, school is ruling my life at the moment. I have three midterms next week – Calculus, Biology, and Astronomy, all of the science-y stuff. I'll be studying all weekend but I'll try to get the time to write.

Anyway, time for some review replies!

allygirl56: Hey, it's good to see you again! I agree, the first one moved at a better pace (my bad!) but I promise this one will pick up :) As for Dawnpaw and Shredtail – I considered it for a little bit, but it just seemed weird. He's very much a mentor figure for her, a guide, and I didn't want to push the limits of reality by giving her a bajillion love interests – not every tom is going to fall for her, after all. :)

Coqui's Song: Fifty bucks for a Thickfur plushie! Just kidding, I don't have one (but if I did, I would definitely keep it!) History does repeat itself, it's awesome that you picked that up! Thanks for reviewing!

Honeycloud of RiverClan: ...forever. Nah, just kidding! But she's not coming out of it soon, sorry!

Aspen: Aw, thanks for the great review! I've seen a couple of episodes of Avatar, and I mean to watch the whole thing at some point! As for the age difference, Thickfur is twenty-five moons older than Dawnpaw – it's a lot now, but won't be significant once she's older.

FawnHasAnArmyOfEvilPuppies: You're welcome, haha. Thanks for reviewing!

Senora Sapphire: Haha, thanks! Yeah, Thickfur is very confused about his feelings, poor guy.

iDarkKitteh: Hey there, welcome! I'm glad you feel that way about Thickfur – that's exactly what I was going for, so I'm glad that it worked. Yeah, the kits are really cute. Thanks for the review :)

I suppose, now that there's officially only sixteen chapters left to write in Knight of the Shadows (which really doesn't seem like that many, actually, so here goes nothing), I can reveal the title of the next book in the trilogy, which I've decided, at least for now, to name the Endgame trilogy. The next book will, drumroll please, be called Queen of the Thunder. Anyway, I hope to finish KotS by May!

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)