Chapter 18

"Not as long as we live!" Brackenfur grunted. "Not as long as StarClan watches over us!"

Tinyclaw saw the conviction in his gaze, and a warmth at his faith spread through him. Yellowfang nudged her apprentice. "Take some chamomile to Tigerstar and Mousefur. They'll need something to ease their nerves," the old she-cat rasped.

Brackenfur flicked an ear at her. "Of course," he meowed, his tone lowering. He got to his paws and padded about to get to his orders. When he was gone, Yellowfang ran her nose along Tinyclaw's pelt, sniffing here and there.

"Where does it hurt?" she asked.

"This is the worst," Tinyclaw meowed, nodding to a bite on his shoulder.

Yellowfang nodded. She shuffled with some loose leaves at her paws. She chewed them and began applying the mixture to Tinyclaw's wounds. "Tigerstar is shaken, you know," she murmured.

Tinyclaw winced at the juices. "I know," he muttered. "The whole Clan is. I am. Thornpaw and Runningwind?"

"It is a hard weight to bear," Yellowfang meowed.

"I thought I was prepared," Tinyclaw breathed. "I increased the patrols and did everything I could, and yet they still died. What could I have done?"

He knew what she would say before she said it: "Sometimes, Tinyclaw, you can do everything possible and still lose." Yellowfang slathered the mixture onto his other scratches. That stung less than her words. "StarClan wills what it wills."

"I'm going to increase patrols," Tinyclaw decided. Somehow. "Speed up apprentice training." With Runningwind and Thornpaw gone, it would be hard – but he could not let this tragedy happen again. And with Cloudpaw gone, too, that's one less warrior to help defend the Clan. He wailed internally at the crisis. "I won't let this happen again."

Yellowfang was patting the last of the poultice on his wounds. She faced him now, her orange eyes level and burning. She touched her nose to his and breathed, "Be strong, Tinyclaw. No cat could have done more than you have… the whole Clan needs you now, more than ever."

Tinyclaw frowned. "What happens if I am not strong enough?" he wondered quietly.

Yellowfang shook her head. "You are," she insisted. "You are capable of great things, Tinyclaw."

Tinyclaw shook his head. "Then why do I feel like a failure?" he murmured.

Yellowfang licked him between the ears. The gesture felt like a mother consoling her kit, and Tinyclaw wanted nothing more than to curl up with Yellowfang and forget about everything. But his Clan needed him. With his wounds patched, Tinyclaw turned away and put his thoughts towards the patrols.

He nearly ran straight into Oakheart. The dark-colored warrior took a step back, flicking his tail. "Sorry," he meowed.

"It's all right," Tinyclaw assured him. He flicked an ear at Oakheart, taking a deep breath. "Tell the Clan there will be three extra patrols every day. Tomorrow you'll take one right after the dawn patrol returns."

Oakheart frowned. "I was going to take Fernpaw hunting," he meowed.

"She can go with you," Tinyclaw told him. "The apprentice's training is going to be sped up, anyway."

Oakheart's frown deepened. Concern flashed across his face. "Yes, deputy," he meowed quietly.

Tinyclaw pushed his way into Tigerstar's den. It was not even sunhigh and he'd already been on two patrols – not only that, but he was taking Swiftpaw out hunting later. The days since Runningwind and Thornpaw's deaths had been busy to say the least. Every warrior was patrolling or hunting, and sleeping when brief breaks allowed. Apprentices were working just as hard, training and hunting and patrolling. With Cloudpaw gone, Whitestorm reluctant to leave Tigerstar's side, and Willowpelt and Frostfur in the nursery, Tinyclaw was having a hard time finding the cats he needed for patrols.

Tigerstar was crouched in his nest, his eyes slits. His fur was matted and ungroomed – for a moment, Tinyclaw wondered if he'd caught the ShadowClan sickness. He sat so still, it seemed like he was just waiting for something to creep up on him and end it all.

"Tigerstar," Tinyclaw quietly called.

Tigerstar turned to him, his eyes half-open.

"We have been patrolling the forest constantly," Tinyclaw reported. "There has been no sign of Bluefur or her rogues."

Tinyclaw wondered if he ought to say more – but Tigerstar turned away. No reply. Tigerstar just drew further into himself, hunching over and looking like a cat wanting nothing more than to just… be done. Tinyclaw sighed. He dipped his head and left the den.

Outside it was as sunny as it had ever been, not a cloud in the sky. The camp was empty, but it seemed peaceful: Cinderpelt was playing with Oakheart's kits outside the nursery, flicking her thick tail for them to follow while she looked at them fondly. Whitestorm sat in the shade of the Highrock, watching the Clan. Only the way his ears were pinned towards Tigerstar's den betrayed any strain.

Tinyclaw looked at the fresh-kill pile. All the patrolling and hunting had made it possible to create quite the pile – but Tinyclaw had little appetite. Sandstorm was there, picking at a mouse – the sight of her sleek pelt made Tinyclaw's limbs quiver, and suddenly he knew he wanted nothing more than to have her by his side. His stomach growled, and Tinyclaw decided he would leave the fresh-kill for others to share. He wanted nothing more than to chase prey with Sandstorm.

At that moment the gorse tunnel quivered, and Swiftpaw padded into camp behind Mousefur, Frostfur, and Halftail, all of them carried moss so soaked through with water their chests dripped. Swiftpaw carried his right to Tigerstar's den, under Whitestorm's appreciative gaze.

Tinyclaw turned to Sandstorm. "You said you'd catch me a rabbit whenever I asked," he called. "Think you may want to hunt with Swiftpaw and I?"

Sandstorm looked up from her meal. Her eyes shone as they met his, a message unspoken that made Tinyclaw's pelt quiver. "Of course," she meowed back. She swallowed the last of her mouse and got to her paws, trotting towards Tinyclaw.

They waited side by side for Swiftpaw, their pelts barely touching. Tinyclaw's heart beat in his ears so hard he thought the whole camp could hear.

When Swiftpaw came out of Tigerstar's den, Tinyclaw called to him: "Are you ready to go hunting?"

"N-Now?" he meowed, surprised.

"It's not sunhigh yet, but we can go if you're not too tired," Tinyclaw told him.

Swiftpaw nodded. "I'm all right – let's go!" he meowed eagerly.

Tinyclaw nodded and the three cats trotted out of camp. With Swiftpaw on their heels, Tinyclaw and Sandstorm raced up the ravine and into the woods. Sandstorm overtook him easily, and Tinyclaw was fine with that – he loved seeing the way her muscles flexed beneath her pelt, lit by the sunshine. She was as tired as he was, surely, but she kept her mouth open and muscles tense in search of prey.

"Got one!" she hissed. The group immediately stopped as Sandstorm lowered herself into a crouch.

Tinyclaw scanned the undergrowth – there! A rabbit in a more open patch, nibbling on a seed. Sandstorm was creeping towards it, but it had plenty of avenues for escape. Tinyclaw pressed himself to the ground and crept around the other side of the rabbit, tense and waiting to strike. Swiftpaw waited, watching with wide yellow eyes.

Sandstorm leaped – but she missed, and the rabbit bolted, right into Tinyclaw's paws. He caught it in his jaws and ended its life, thanking StarClan for filling the forest with prey despite the drought. Sandstorm padded up to him, her whiskers twitching appreciatively.

"Thanks," she breathed, "I'm a bit slow today."

"You're tired," Tinyclaw told her. He wondered if he should have let her rest.

Sandstorm's eyes narrowed. "We all are," she said, "and so are you."

"We all need rest."

"You've been twice as busy as anyone else," Sandstorm told him.

"There's a lot to do," Tinyclaw told her. "I don't have to train Cloudpaw right now – I have a lot more spare time on my paws than most."

Cloudpaw's loss pricked at Tinyclaw more and more lately, now that the Clan needed her more than ever. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of her, as if that monster had taken her into the abyss. He wished it weren't so – he hoped more and more that she would turn up at camp, scared and in need of forgiveness. He missed her.

What if her disappearance makes the Clan lose faith in me, because I was a kittypet too? Tinyclaw had that thought more than once. The reason he worked himself so hard was to prove that he was a good warrior, that he was worthy of ThunderClan.

Sandstorm's eyes softened. She seemed to see his anxiety – how could she not, when it prickled her pelt at night? "Let me help more," she said quietly. "Please, there has to be something I can do…" her tone had a hint of bitterness. "I don't have an apprentice either, after all."

Tinyclaw frowned at her. Seeing Dustpelt with Ashpaw must have pricked her pride a little. He felt a twinge of guilt. He almost said he was sorry – but Sandstorm would have had no idea he'd been the one to choose the mentors. She would have assumed that Tigerstar had picked them, like everyone else.

Yet he was tired, and the look on her face… "I'm sorry," he meowed. "Tigerstar asked me to choose Ashpaw and Fernpaw's mentors. I chose Dustpelt instead of you, and…"

"It's fine," Sandstorm told him. "As much as I would have liked an apprentice, I think Oakheart needed Fernpaw more than I did, and Ashpaw has been really good for Dustpelt. I know you had your reasons." Her pelt prickled nonetheless.

An awkward silence stretched out until Swiftpaw trudged through the undergrowth and asked, "Did you get it?"

Suddenly Tinyclaw realized how tired Swiftpaw looked – he was a stocky cat, but he was as worn as anyone else. He remembered how hard it was to keep up with the bigger warriors when he was an apprentice. Tinyclaw pushed the rabbit towards him. "Have the first bite," he offered. "I should have given you time to eat before we left."

Swiftpaw nodded and began to eat. Sandstorm suggested, "Maybe you could order fewer patrols? We haven't seen Bluefur since the attack."

She sounded hopeful – but Tinyclaw knew she didn't believe it inside. Every cat was as tense as a rabbit now, from dawn to dusk and on every patrol. Even in camp it felt like every cat was on constant vigil. Every cat knew Bluefur would not give up so easily – she would have her revenge; it was all a matter of when.

He could also sense their growing frustration. Tigerstar had not left his den since the attack. The Clan needed him just as much as they needed Tinyclaw. A leader gave their Clan direction and hope, and Tigerstar was doing none of that.

"We have to be on our guard," Tinyclaw meowed. "You know I can't cut down on patrols."

"Do… do you really think Bluefur will kill us?" Swiftpaw murmured.

Tinyclaw glanced at the young cat. Thornpaw had been his brother, and Bluefur had killed him. He had to be suffering far more than he let on, like Brackenfur and Cinderpelt and Frostfur.

"I think she'll try," Tinyclaw answered. There was no point trying to patronize him.

"What does Tigerstar think?" Sandstorm wondered.

"He's worried, of course," Tinyclaw replied. Worried was an understatement. Only Tinyclaw and Whitestorm understood the force with which Bluefur's return had shaken Tigerstar. He was back to that dark place he'd gone when Bluefur had tried to murder him the first time.

"He's lucky he has a good deputy," Sandstorm meowed. "Every cat in the Clan trusts you to help lead us through this."

Tinyclaw was not blind to that. He'd seen the looks his Clanmates gave him – hopeful, full of a temporary relief. They expected so much of him, Tinyclaw could feel it on his shoulders like an enemy pinning him down into the dirt. How could he meet so many expectations? How could he give them that hope, when he felt like breaking down himself?

"I hope I can," Tinyclaw breathed.

"I know you will," Sandstorm meowed, licking him between the ears.

Tinyclaw nodded towards the rabbit. "Let's finish this and find something else," he meowed.

The three cats polished off the rabbit and then headed further into the territory. They traveled without speaking, eyes and ears open for anything – prey, or a threat.

An unfamiliar scent drifted down through the sticky air. Tinyclaw tensed, and the group followed suit. They were near the slope that led down to Fourtrees, thick with undergrowth. Sandstorm and Swiftpaw tensed behind him.

"Up here!" Swiftpaw suggested, nodding towards a sycamore. Tinyclaw nodded in agreement, and the three cats shot up the tree. Balancing on its branches gave Tinyclaw a good view of the surrounding area – and the intruder.

A sleek black shape weaved through the undergrowth, black ears poking up through the bushes. That scent wafted up to Tinyclaw, stirring a feeling in his mind. Was this some cat he had helped before from another Clan? Tinyclaw didn't know, and with Bluefur lurking he could not take that risk. With a yowl he plunged down onto the intruder, claws bared.

The black cat yowled in shock, knocking Tinyclaw away before he could grab hold. Tinyclaw had felt this cats' size and strength already – he would be easy to beat off. He faced the stranger, back arched and a vicious hiss forming. Sandstorm and Swiftpaw leaped down from the tree, surrounding him on all sides.

But even as their faces held hostility, Tinyclaw's spine was lying flat. He did recognize this intruder… and as the black cat locked eyes with Tinyclaw, the intruder recognized Tinyclaw as well.

Tinyclaw had to be sure. He asked, "Ravenpaw?"