Next morning, Graystripe watches the dawn patrol leave before going to relieve Cloudtail from his vigil. Some of the warriors from both clans had stayed behind after the white tom's ceremony to work on the camp and had slept in the nearly finished dens.
"All quiet?" He meows. "Do you want to sleep now, or are you up to hunting? We could go through Tallpines if you like, to see your mother."
His former apprentice stretches his jaws in an enormous yawn, but a heartbeat later he springs to his paws. "Let's hunt!"
"Okay." He mews, purring at Cloudtail's enthusiasm. "We should take Sandstorm too. We don't know if Tigerstar will be prowling around."
Glancing around to see if she has emerged from one of the dens, Dustpelt along with Fernpaw bound up to him. Dustpelt and the young apprentice gasping for breath. When the warrior regains his breath he mews quickly, "Graystripe there is something you should know. Fernpaw tell Graystripe what you told me."
Fernpaw's head is lowered and she still is panting a little. She scuffles in the dust with her front paws. Her hesitation gives time for him to wonder what is troubling her, and why she has chosen to confide in Dustpelt and not her mentor.
The second question is answered when Dustpelt gives the young she-cat a few licks behind her ear in comfort.
"It's okay," Dustpelt mews softly, "There is nothing to be scared of. Graystripe won't be angry with you." The glare he gives Graystripe, unseen by Fernpaw, said, He'd better not!
"It's okay Fernpaw," Graystripe encourages, "You can tell me what is bothering you."
Fernpaw's green eyes flicker in uncertainty towards him and then away again. "It's Swiftpaw," she begins, worry in her mew, "He….." She hesitates again, glancing at Cloudtail and then continues, "He was really angry when Bluestar didn't make him a warrior. Last night he got all us apprentices together in the den. He said we'd never be warriors unless we something so brave Bluestar could not ignore us any longer."
She pauses again and Dustpelt murmurs gently, "Go on."
"He said we ought to find who has been killing prey in the forest since the warriors are preoccupied with Tigerstar and rebuilding the camp." The young apprentice's voice is shaking as she continues, "He said we should go to Snakerocks as that is where most of the prey scraps have been found. Swiftpaw thought we might pick up a trail."
"What a mouse-brained idea!" Cloudtail bursts out.
"Quiet, Cloudtail. Fernpaw, what did the other apprentices think about the idea?" He asks, shooting a warning glance at Cloudtail not to make another outburst. Trying to ignore the cold lump of apprehension gathering in his belly he waits for Fernpaw's response.
"We didn't know. We want to be warriors, but we all knew that we shouldn't do something like that without orders, and without at least one warrior with us. In the end only Swiftpaw and Brightpaw went."
"When was this?" Graystripe asks, worry and apprehension building in him like a storm waiting to burst.
"I'...I'm not sure…. Before dawn." Fernpaw's voice rises as if she were to start wailing like a tiny kit. "I didn't know what to do. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't want to give them away. Only feeling worse and worse, and so when I saw Dustpelt, I went to tell him." She gives the brown tabby warrior a grateful glance and he presses his muzzle against her speckled gray flank.
"We'll have to go after them. Dustpelt I want you to take Fernpaw hunting, along with her mentor and Ashpaw. I don't want the other apprentices involved. And both clans need fresh-kill." Looking down at Fernpaw he meows, "You did good to tell me about this Fernpaw. We will try to get them back safely." Turning to Cloudtail he demands, "Bring Sandstorm, and Longtail we will need their support if we run into the dog that Swiftpaw and Brightpaw have been chasing."
Dustpelt nods and nudges Fernpaw out of camp. He wonders whether he ought to tell Bluestar about this before they go, but dogs are a ferocious enemy and two young cats would hardly be able to fight off one all alone. Even if they were expertly trained. And he didn't want to waste a moment, those cats might already be facing a dog and they cannot risk them dying in a fruitless attempt to get rid of the dog.
Cloudtail returns with Sandstorm and Longtail, Longtail looking extremely worried for his apprentice. "Cloudtail told us. Let's go!"
Quickly they race out of camp. Scrambling up the ravine and making it to the top he dives into the undergrowth. Worry fills him and he feels guilty. If he had just argued, or stood up for the other apprentices, maybe Swiftpaw wouldn't have had the idea in the first place.
They might be too late by the time they get there, but he has to have hope that they will both be alright when they get to Snakerocks. His paws scatter the fallen leaves as he races with all his might, Cloudtail, Longtail and Sandstorm following close behind. Despite his worry, he has comfort in the presence of this patrol as they have faced so much together.
As they approach Snakerocks, Graystripe slows down and signals with his tail for the other cats to do the same. If they dash forward without knowing what awaits them at the rocks, then they will be no help. Especially if they run face to face with a dog. They have to treat this enemy like any other, whatever it is, whether it's a canine or not. Something inside him screams, however, that this enemy was unlike anything he has ever faced. That it is unpredictable, far beyond the reach of the warrior code, and that he is in immense danger. Is this how mice and rabbits feel, he wonders, knowing that death could be stalking through the undergrowth.
Pushing those thoughts aside he puts his focus back to the task at paw. Everything is eerily still and quiet. Graystripe dares not risk calling out the apprentices names in case he alerts what is up ahead. Swiftpaw must be right, he realizes; this is the center of the darkness that has poisoned the forest, but he begins to doubt his theory that a dog, despite the dog scent around his patrol, is behind so much destruction and fear.
Cautiously as if he is stalking prey, he slips through the undergrowth until the smooth, sand-colored rocks of Snakerocks come into view. For a few heartbeats he tastes the air. Swiftpaw and Brightpaw's scent, still fresh; the staler scent of other Thunderclan cats; dog, as Graystripe expected; but over it all the stench of newly spilled blood.
Sandstorm turns to look at him, her eyes huge with fear, "Something terrible has happened."
Terror courses through him, but he pushes the terror down. He is about to confront the source of fear that has stalked him for a moon, the faceless enemy who has invaded their territory and rescue Brightpaw and Swiftpaw.
With a twitch of his tail he beckons his companions to move forward again; now they creep with their bellies close to the ground, into on seeing without being seen, until the rocks are only a few fox-lengths away.
A fallen tree bars their way. Scrambling onto the trunk, Graystripe scans over the open space with carpeted dead leaves. Foul-tasting bile rises into his throat as he takes in the scene in front of him.
The leaves have been churned up by massive paws, and clots of earth spray upward to catch in the branches of the tree. In the middle of the clearing Swiftpaw's black-and-white body lies motionless, and just beyond him, Brightpaw.
"Oh, no," whispers Sandstorm, as she draws herself up to crouch on the trunk beside Graystripe.
"Brightpaw!" yowls Cloudtail.
"Swiftpaw!" shouts Longtail.
Without waiting for Graystripet's order both cats launch themselves across the clearing towards the two apprentices. He tenses, waiting for whatever has hunted down these apprentices to emerge from the trees and attack, but nothing stirs.
Feeling as if his legs hardly belong to him, he springs down and stumbles across to Swiftpaw where Longtail is crouching over him. The apprentice lies on his side, his legs splayed out. His black-and-white fur is torn, and his body is covered with dreadful wounds, ripped by teeth far bigger than any cat's. His jaws still snarled and his eyes glared. He is dead, and Graystripe can see that he had died fighting.
"Great StarClan, what did this to him?" he whispers. For a moon he has been afraid, and now it is far worse than he ever could have imagined. Swiftpaw has been slaughtered like prey. The hunters in the forest have become the hunted.
Something has happened in the forest, the balance of life has changed, and for a moment Graystripe feels the ground beneath his paws shift. Sandstorm stares down at Swiftpaw's body, too stunned to reply. He remembers Silverstream's death and Fireheart's and grief nearly overwhelms him.
"What a waste," He murmurs sadly, guilt pricking in his heart. "If only Bluestar had made him a warrior. If only I'd stood up for him and the others—" He is interrupted by a screech from Cloudtail.
"Graystripe! Graystripe, Brightpaw isn't dead!"
He mews, "Watch over Longtail, Sandstorm." He then spins around and races across the clearing to crouch beside Brightpaw. Her white-and-ginger fur, which she has always kept so neatly groomed, is spiky with drying blood. On one side of her face the fur is torn away, and there is blood where her eye should be. One ear has been shredded, and there are huge claw marks scored across her muzzle.
" At first Graystripe thinks Cloudtail is wrong and that Brightpaw must be dead, until he sees the very faint rise and fall of her breathing, and the blood bubbling in her nostrils. "Fetch Cinderpelt," he orders as he pads back to Sandstorm. "I'll stay by his side." He looks at Longtail and the tom is sitting in silence, tears falling down his cheeks.
Sandstorm dashes off while Cloudtail lies beside Brightpaw's body, all his senses alert in case their fearsome enemy should return. He goes on looking down at the injured and dead Swiftpaw. Somehow his fear has drained away. He feels nothing but an icy calm, and a stern, ferocious determination to avenge the young apprentices.
He asks StarClan to be with him and to give him the strength to unleash all their fury on whatever has dared to wreak such havoc. Cloudtail curls himself close to the motionless apprentice and begins licking her face and the fur around her ears.
"Don't die, Brightpaw," he begs. "I'm with you now. Cinderpelt's coming. Hold on just a bit longer."
Graystripe is surprised, he has never heard him sound so distraught. He hopes the white cat would not have to suffer the pain he had felt when Silverstream died, or when they both lost Fireheart, or the grief he felt after Yellowfang had died in the fire.
One of Brightpaw's ears twitches under Cloudtail's gentle tongue. Her remaining eye opens a slit and closes again. "Brightpaw." Graystripe leans close to her after padding to them after he has seen her ear twitch and speaks urgently. "Brightpaw, can you tell us what did this to you?" Brightpaw's eye opens wider and she fixes a cloudy gaze on him. "What happened?" he repeats. "What did this?" A thin wailing comes from Brightpaw, which gradually forms into words. Graystripe stares at her in horror as he makes out what she is trying to say. "Pack, pack," she whispers. "Kill, kill."