Chapter 59: Ravenous

The camp was gearing up to confront the dogs. Sandstorm was out perfecting the dog killer while the clan's fastest and fiercest were prepping to deal with their assigned dog. All the movement outside made Darkstripe antsy. His leg hadn't healed yet, so he'd only be a liability. He knew that in the logical part of his brain, but the deep seeded need to protect those in his clan still set him on edge. He could only watch fearing that not every cat who left would be returning. At the very least, he still had something to do. He could monitor the two unconscious apprentices and assist Cinderpelt prepare for the inevitable wounds the battle would bring.

Something Darkstripe and the clan hadn't accounted for that was coming back to bite them was that prey with Shadowclan scent. Thunderclan had been patrolling more frequently around Snakerocks to watch if the dogs decided to move. Tigerstar couldn't find his way between the patrols, so he was no longer feeding the dogs, but that presented a new problem. The dogs were hungry, no, ravenous.

Brindleface had been on the Snakerocks patrol with Mousefur when the dogs struck. It was a losing fight given that there were only two of them. Brindleface, having been a queen and receiving a debilitating bite, ordered Mousefur to retreat and bring help. Mousefur had no choice but to accept Brindleface's sacrifice and run. She got to camp with a few deep bite wounds but nothing permanent, but her shock and guilt were another story. She hastily explained what happened before Cinderpelt ushered her into the now somewhat cramped medicine den for treatment. Darkstripe could read her clearly. She had all the signs of survivor's guilt.

Fireheart rounded a sizable patrol of eight cats to find Brindleface, or what was left of her. What they found was something they dared not speak of. Brindleface's body was disturbing to say the least. The dogs had ripped into whatever they could get their jaws on and the bones were strewn about. The patrol quietly rounded up what they could to bury back at camp. There would be no body for the vigil. The dogs had done too much for it. The camp was quiet and sullen after the discovery.

Ashpaw and Cloudtail took the news poorly. Darkstripe, now with the clearance to walk as long as he stayed in camp, could only wrap himself around the two cats. He may not have had a relationship with Ashpaw, but the cat needed all the comfort he could get. Whitestorm was also there. His usual unshakable calm was broken by the death of his former mate. They may have ended their relationship, but clearly there had still been some feelings remaining between the two.

Ashpaw didn't or couldn't understand. Why wouldn't has father comfort him so? Why was Whitestorm spacing himself away from him? Why was it that Darkstripe, a cat who wasn't even his father, cared more for him now than his real one.? There were no answers. Only the sibling bond of Cloudtail and Ashpaw remained to help him through this trying time. He let Darkstripe comfort him, if only to pretend it was the father who wasn't there to care for him.

Whitestorm had spaced himself from those he cared for. Everything felt like it was collapsing beneath his paws. He had been on the receiving end of many of the clan's latest tragedies. He was supposed to be unshakable, but even the mightiest boulder can be worn down over time. Everything was crashing down on him at once. The betrayal by Tigerstar, the maiming of his apprentice, the madness of Bluestar, the death of his once mate. They all were resurging in his mind along with older disasters. His own mother's death and the cruelty of Thistleclaw were reemerging in his mind. He didn't want to look at or touch any cat fearing that caring would bring about their end as well.

It was Cinderpelt and Bluestar who kept Whitestorm from slipping over the edge. Bluestar, ever the mother, could sense his growing unease. She wrapped herself around her nephew and tried to comfort him. Cinderpelt noticed Whitestorm's unusual behavior and went over as well. While Bluestar gave comforting familial warmth, Cinderpelt provided a realist's comfort. She, having been the victim of her own tragedies, assured Whitestorm that he was not the only cat going through this. Every cat in the clan had been impacted by everything that kept happening to the clan. She gestured to Ashpaw to show him he wasn't alone in his sadness. Whitestorm watched his poor kit, wrapped protectively by Darkstripe and Cloudtail, wail out his own grief. The sight of Darkstripe filling his role gave him a sense of guilt. Why wasn't he there for his kit?

Whitestorm freed himself of the two cats comforting him. He had a responsibility to himself and his kit. He padded over to the trio and Darkstripe looked up. He had expected some kind of hostility or something of that nature, but he only got quiet respect and care. Darkstripe gently removed himself from the two and gestured for Whitestorm to take his place. Whitestorm complied, his long white coat seeming to merge with Cloudtail's leaving Ashpaw sandwiched between the two.

The reaction was instant. Ashpaw felt the change and saw the new white fur surrounding him. He could just feel it was Whitestorm. His father hadn't abandoned him after all. He snuggled in deep needing the familial presence of his father. They had both lost something important that day, but they still had each other.

Darkstripe looked on at the trio knowing his presence was no longer necessary. As discretely as possible, he made his way back to the medicine den. There, he detected a change. Brightpaw's breathing was no longer the slowness of unconsciousness.

"Brightpaw?" Darkstripe asked the still form.

The apprentice's one good eye fluttered open.

"Darkstripe? What happened? Why can't I see out of my left eye?"

Darkstripe sat himself close to the apprentice's side. She'd need all the comfort she could get for what he had to tell her.

"You were hurt… badly. You and Swiftpaw set out to attack the dogs he heard me talk about. I managed to save your lives, but neither of you came out unscathed. As bad as you feel, Swiftpaw is a little worse. He's still in critical condition, but Cinderpelt expects him to be able to recover. He won't ever be able to climb trees and you'll never get that left eye back. I'm sorry. Outside, things are also bad. Brindleface got attacked by the dogs. She didn't make it. We're holding the vigil now. I want you to know her death is not your fault. They attacked her while she was patrolling Snakerocks. It wasn't revenge. It was just the beasts being beasts."

Darkstripe pressed himself against the apprentice feeling her trembling. She was clearly recalling what had happened. He hoped his presence would be enough to calm down the apprentice soon. When she was calm enough that he could tell she could hear him again he spoke.

"I know. They're terrifying. I know I scared them off, but even I have nightmares about them. We have a plan to deal with them. They won't be a threat for much longer."

The traumatized apprentice quietly and fearfully mewed, "I keep seeing them. There were so many. And that big red one…"

"That one's gone. It's dead. It can't hurt you now." Darkstripe replied.

That seemed to have settled the apprentice. She fell into a deep sleep. She needed it after all that had happened to her.