"If you want water, one of you needs to come out." I recognize the voice calling down as Fernshade's.
"I'll go," I volunteer, pulling myself to my paws. Mistyfoot raises her head and just blinks wordlessly at me.
It's been three days since Jaggedtooth forced me down into the old fox den. I ain't seen the sun in all that time, but once a day, a guard will take one of us out to get water. When the four half-clan cats were first imprisoned, Stonefur got the idea of makin' a claw mark on the wall for each day. I've spent StarClan knows how long starin' at them scratches, wonderin' what's the point of keepin' track of these endless days, wonderin' how many more scratches will pile up before Tigerstar finally stops toyin' with us.
Fernshade's waitin' for me right at the edge of the hole. The tortoiseshell she-cat looks away, but not before I see a flash of pity in her green eyes. Does that pity extend to my fellow prisoners? I wonder.
Blackfoot stands a few fox-lengths away from his sister, lookin' all impatient, so I ask quickly, "Is Nightwhisper okay? Is he safe?" We've talked at length about how she spent moons worryin' about her brother when he was in exile, so I hope this will make her more sympathetic.
Fernshade don't say anything, but she dips her head in the slightest nod. I want to press for more details, but I don't dare, and Fernshade is clearly scared of gettin' in trouble. The knowledge that my brother is at least physically safe, plus the amazing taste and feel of fresh air, gives me the strength to approach the TigerClan deputy.
He rolls his eyes when he sees me but snaps, "Come on, you. Fernshade, you stay to guard the others."
Blackfoot sets a brutal pace as we head toward the river. I take deep breaths, filling my nose with the clean smells of the forest and river, knowin' I'll be back in the reaking pit before too long. I relish the snowy ground beneath my paws in a way I never have before.
"Make it quick," Blackfoot orders when we get to the bank.
I gather the biggest ball of moss I can reasonably carry. My ears prick at the sound of pawsteps. Leopardstar comes along the narrow trail, head and tail erect. Her sharp amber gaze skewers me.
"Is Nettlethorn a prisoner as well now, Blackfoot?" Leopardstar demands. She adds with an edge of sarcasm, "Don't tell me she's half-clan too."
"Far as I know, I'm still a pure-blooded rogue," I say dryly.
Blackfoot cuffs me upside the head with unsheathed claws and asks, "What do you want, Leopardstar?"
"I'm here to check on my clanmates, make sure they're being looked after."
"That's not necessary," Blackfoot snaps.
Leopardstar's eyes flash. "I'm a co-leader of TigerClan, and the half-clan cats are my responsibility. You won't stop me from checking in on them," she says contemptuously.
My heart leaps. If I tell the former RiverClan leader how we're really being treated, will she end her alliance with Tigerstar and help us?
Blackfoot don't miss a trick, though. He sees where my eyes be wanderin' and hisses, "Don't even think about it. You're in more than enough trouble without doing something else stupid."
Before I can decide to do the stupid thing anyway, I see Tigerstar himself coming down the path from the island camp, Darkstripe slinking at his side like a particularly malevolent shadow. I hate the thrill of fear that zips from my ears to my tail. But both cats ignore me as Tigerstar begins meowin' somethin' to Leopardstar. I guess by his low growl that it ain't a friendly chat. Maybe he's threatening her.
I focus on givin' my moss a good soakin', all too aware that every drop of water is precious. Almost before I'm done, Blackfoot is nudging me in the ribs, herding me back to the prison. I hurry, desperate not to lose any of the water that will mean the difference between us going thirsty for the next day and being able to at least wet our muzzles.
Back in the abandoned fox den, Stonefur and Mistyfoot are drillin' their apprentices on the warrior code. Whenever they have the energy, the mentors try to distract the younger cats with lessons. They talk about fishing techniques, different types of water and currents, clan history and tradition. Sometimes their words can almost make me forget where we are.
"Thank StarClan!" Featherpaw exclaims when I offer her the wet moss. She laps eagerly at it, then passes it to her brother.
"We saved this for you," Stonefur says, pushing a tiny piece of half-rotted finch toward me.
"Thanks," I say, my stomach roarin' with hunger. By unspoken agreement, the two other warriors and I give most of what little food the guards drop down the hole to the apprentices. I gulp down my portion in two quick bites. Then, I carefully make another claw scratch in the dirt, markin' off another day in captivity.
Energized by food and water, such as they are, Stormpaw and Featherpaw practice battle moves, as much as the confined space will allow. I don't say nothin' when Stormpaw steps on my tail, or when Featherpaw crashes into my side, slamming me into the dirt wall. Watchin' 'em play makes me wonder what Lightningpaw's doing right now. Is Tigerstar still lettin' Nightwhisper mentor her? Are they still gettin' along?
"Did you have an apprentice in ShadowClan?" Mistyfoot asks, too perceptive for her own good as usual.
I shake my head, exhaustion suddenly sweepin' over me like one of those rogue currents the RiverClan warriors are always warnin' the apprentices about. Explaining my relationship with Lightningpaw seems unimaginably hard.
"My kits were apprenticed two moons ago," Mistyfoot says, her ears drooping with worry.
"I'm sure you're a great mama," I tell her.
"Pikepaw, Perchpaw, Reedpaw, and Primrosepaw," Mistyfoot says their names like somethin' sacred. "I just pray to StarClan that Tigerstar's not hurting them."
Stonefur gives his sister's cheek a comforting lick. "Blackclaw and their mentors are looking after them," he meows.
"Are Stormpaw and Featherpaw your first apprentices?" I ask.
"Stonefur mentored Shadepelt, but Featherpaw's my first," Mistyfoot says. "I was so excited when Leopardstar paired us together, but also scared out of my fur. I was so worried I'd fail her, or that something terrible would happen to her on my watch. I thought it would be a fox or drowning in the river, not..." Her tail lashes with frustration. "I just feel so helpless. I never thought I'd feel that way once I became a warrior."
"Did y'all know about the half-clan situation when you got paired up?" I ask curiously.
"Our father lived in RiverClan for awhile after we were born," Stormpaw says. "He told us the most awesome stories about our mother, and growing up in ThunderClan with Firestar."
"We thought a RiverClan warrior named Graypool was our mother until Firestar told us the truth during our last battle for Sunningrocks," Stonefur says.
"Whoa, you never told us this story," Featherpaw meows.
"Tell us," her brother adds.
That's all it takes to get another little ritual goin'. After what passes for our meals, we take turns tellin' stories. Stonefur's tales of past battles are especially vivid and entertaining. Stormpaw makes us laugh our pelts off, tellin' us about how he learned to swim. Featherpaw tells us the stories Graystripe, their ThunderClan father, told 'em before returnin' to his birth clan. Mistyfoot captivates all of us with the story of how Firestar and Graystripe saved two of her kits when RiverClan's camp flooded. The apprentices are particularly impressed with my stories of surviving in town, though I reckon the warriors know I'm leavin' a lot unsaid. In the stories, there's plenty of bravery and close calls with twolegs, dogs, and hostile strays. But I leave out the near-constant hunger, the terror of living in BloodClan, the cats I've seen killed by disease and cars.
With no way of tellin' the difference between day and night, we sleep in fits and starts. In my dream two nights after it's my turn to fetch water, I'm back in ShadowClan territory, the smell of the pines and bogs like an old friend. But my dream becomes a nightmare real quick when I hear a kit cryin' for help. Lightningpaw, I think at first, but it ain't her.
"Please stop, that hurts!" my brother Coal, dead for seasons now, wails. "Please save me, Cici!"
"I'm comin'," I call. If I can stop Bone, if I can distract him or take the blow meant for my littermate, every horrible thing that's happened since will be undone.
But my paws move with the terrible slowness of the very worst nightmares, like I'm sloggin' through an especially treacherous marsh. Coal's wails seem to be gettin' farther away, not closer. And it sounds like he's underground, buried so deep I'll never reach him in time.
I jerk awake, my flailing paw hitting some other cat in the ribs. Stormpaw mutters groggily and rolls away without opening his eyes. I lay there, shakin' in the fetid mud at the bottom of this hateful pit, like a leaf.
I sit up at the sound of quiet pawsteps. "Are you awake, Nettlethorn?" Stonefur whispers.
"Yeah." I can just make out that his ear and nose are bleedin'. "What happened to you?"
Stonefur sighs, soundin' like an elder on the verge of givin' up. "I just wanted to see the sky. I got too close to the entrance for the guard's liking."
I want to ask who's on duty outside, but instead I search around the bodies of our sleeping denmates for any medical supplies we might have left. "Mouse dung, we ain't got no cobwebs," I mutter.
But Stonefur acts like he don't hear me. His blue eyes are glazed with pain and despair. "It's a full moon tonight. Everyone will be at the Gathering. Do you think they'll miss us?"
"They might miss you, being RiverClan's deputy and all. The other clans don't know I exist."
Stonefur's next question startles me. "Do you still think of yourself as part of ShadowClan? Do you think a warrior can be loyal to a clan without being loyal to its leader?"
"There are still cats in ShadowClan I love," I say. "I know the other clans say ShadowClan is bloodthirsty and cruel, that we always make trouble, that our hearts are dark. That's a big pile of dog shit, if you ask me. We hunt and look after kits and share tongues with our clanmates just like the rest of you. I reckon I'd be part of ShadowClan again, if we had a decent leader."
"I will love RiverClan until my last breath. But it's hard when not one of my clanmates—not my friends, not the leader I pledged my loyalty to—will raise a claw to defend us. Are they really that afraid of Tigerstar? Or does Leopardstar genuinely believe we're a threat?"
"Wish I could answer that," I say, pressing myself against him. We sit like that in silence for a long time, keeping vigil, each lost in our own thoughts and memories and fears.
The next day, no cat brings us prey or calls for a volunteer to get water. My throat feels like I done swallowed sand, and my stomach is yowling. Hard to tell which is worse, the hunger or the thirst. Is this Tigerstar's plan? I worry. Has he decided to just starve us to death? Leave us down here until every cat forgets about us?
The apprentices don't play no more. They ain't got the energy. We're all dull and listless, spend most of the day lyin' around.
But eventually, Featherpaw sits up and meows, "Nettlethorn, can you tell us one of your crazy twolegplace stories?"
A big part of me wants to close my eyes and tell her to shut up, but I don't need to go makin' our predicament worse. Maybe a story's just what we need to keep up morale. Despite everything, I feel an amused purr rumblin' up through my chest.
"Did I ever tell y'all 'bout the time Nightwhisper and I stole a whole bunch of food from some twoleg kits?" I ask. Jaggedtooth was part of that little adventure too, but just thinkin' of him makes me hurt and furious all at once.
"No," Stormpaw says, actually bouncing with eagerness.
But my story is interrupted before I get to the really good part by the sounds of heavy pawsteps and loud yowling. I recognize one of the voices as Darkstripe's. "Stonefur, apprentices, get out here. Tigerstar wants you."
"Why?" Featherpaw asks, anxiety sharpening her meow.
Stonefur brushes his tail across the silver she-cat's shoulder. "I'm not sure, but we'd best go quietly."
"I'm not letting you go out there to face him alone," Mistyfoot says, gettin' to her paws and chargin' up the tunnel.
"Not you," Jaggedtooth hisses, batting Mistyfoot aside with a heavy forepaw. "Just Stonefur and the brats." He reaches into the opening of the hole and grabs Stormpaw by the scruff, yanking the smaller tom out.
"What you want with them?" I demand.
"You'll find out soon enough, traitor," Darkstripe sneers.
"The traitor thing be gettin' old. At least try comin' up with some new insults," I say, darting back as Jaggedtooth swipes at me.
Darkstripe drags Featherpaw out next. The terrified she-cat cringes before the two warriors. Stormpaw presses close to his sister.
"Stonefur, you comin' or we gotta make you? I reckon playin' with these two will get you movin'," Jaggedtooth says, knocking Stormpaw over with a casual swipe.
"Stop hurting them!" Mistyfoot cries.
"They're alive, aren't they?" Jaggedtooth sneers.
"For now," Darkstripe growls.
Their words chill me to the bone. Is Tigerstar really cruel enough to kill apprentices in cold blood? Does their youth mean nothin' to him?
Stonefur unsheathes his claws, then looks at Stormpaw and Featherpaw with a helpless rage that rips my heart into little pieces. Then he climbs out of the hole and stands with the younger cats, head lowered.
"Please let us stay together," Mistyfoot begs. But Darkstripe and Jaggedtooth just laugh as they herd Stonefur and the apprentices off toward the Bonehill.