SIXTEEN.
"Filou! Filou! Filou's back!"
Rusty looked up from where he was nibbling on his moss he pretended was a juicy rat and squeaked in delight, scampering to his paws and following the excited trills of his brothers, Ferris and Socks. His game was immediately forgotten - Filou returning not only meant mealtime but storytime as well. Filou told the best stories - they always had since Rusty was old enough to start hearing.
The cream-colored cat was going through their haul with Quince, poking a claw in each of the two rats to make sure there were no maggots or signs of disease before the she-cat gave a nod. "Do you see why I said to fix your back? Now you've got double your best day's catch in one day." Her voice was thick with condescension, making Filou just roll their eyes and sigh.
"Yes, mother."
"Filou! Filou!" the sound of Rusty's calls mixed with his brothers made the tabby glance over and smile, "Tell us a story! We want a story!"
"Kits! Quit your yapping or I'm taking your dinner," snapped Quince crossly back at her kits. The three tom-kits immediately stopped talking, but still jumped around excitedly as their older sibling gave them a knowing wink while they waited for the matriarch to finish dividing up the food.
It wasn't long before Luna and Tommy returned as well. Luna was able to catch an injured pigeon - not a lot of meat that was edible on it, but the rarity of the catch excused her from any shortness - while Tommy came up empty and got the usual lecture about how no catches led to the death of his family and if they were to start starving he would be the first one they cut up and ate. The tom just rolled his eyes and nodded; this was not the first time he had heard that lecture.
Rusty hoped he'd never have to get a lecture like that.
Soon enough, all of the food was cut up and everyone was able to take a piece. Rusty tried to sneak in and snatch a particularly large piece of rat flank, but Socks kicked him away with his hind leg before he could lay his teeth into it. He was stuck with a pretty small cut of pigeon instead, making the ginger kit pout as he ate his food.
At least he wasn't Tiny, who had the smallest piece of pigeon left. And even with the cut he got, Luna had to slice off a small part that looked discolored and would have made him sick.
Rusty finished his food all too fast, licking his lips and then waiting impatiently for everyone else to finish so Filou could tell them a story. The alleyway where they settled was starting to grow claustrophobic to the ginger kit, growing all too familiar and boring. He knew better than to ask to go outside - he would be thrown outside by the scruff and told to defend himself and not come back until nightfall - but he wished that his fun siblings could stay inside for a little longer than just for dinner.
"Rusty, if you don't stop bouncin' around, there's no story tonight," snapped Quince, who somehow seemed to be annoyed at everything the kits did that wasn't eating in silence.
" But Mooooom- "
" I said shut it! " Rusty immediately closed his mouth and tried his best to sit still. It was difficult, especially since he was usually the first to finish his food. But as more and more of his siblings finished their food, his ginger tail whacked more and more against the concrete excitedly. Soon enough, Filou had finished their food, given their mother a kiss on the forehead and was strolling over to the all-too-energized brothers.
"Alright, you little ratracers…'' they murmured, eyes sweeping over their audience of three, "What story should I tell you today?"
" The one about the flying cat! "
" Ooh! The one about the pigeons! "
" I want one about Torch! "
"Okay, okay…" chuckled Filou as they waved their tail for them to quiet down, "Tell ya what…I just heard a new story out on the streets the other day…Just from some passersby hiding out in an alley…" The last part was said loud enough for Quince to hear, since any stories about the gangs Torch and Spear were strictly forbidden, "It's a little bit of a scary story but I think you three will really like it…"
"Yeah! Yeah!" squealed the three toms in excitement, "What's it about? What's it about?"
"Settle down now…this is a long one," said Filou, eyes glowing in that same inviting way when they were about to tell a good story, "This is the story of two cats…one looking not too different from us, and another looking like a cat you've never seen before…"
Rusty closed his eyes, trying to imagine the two cats in his head. The one looking not too different…well, that was obviously himself. He loved seeing how he would walk through Filou's stories. But the cat that looked nothing like him? Hmm…well, he imagined a dark tabby cat. One with horrible yellow eyes and dark brown fur, with a malicious smile and hunger in his eyes. Perhaps he would be twice or even three times his size.
Rusty was fine with making the second cat such a disturbing creature. He had a feeling that Filou's story would end with the cat that looked like him victorious over the other.
"Now listen closely…" said Rusty's sibling, voice rising into a whimsical, story-telling mode, "Because this is the story of two cats…and how they crossed a very dangerous place… called The Great Ravine. "
Firepaw didn't know how long he was standing there, eyes transfixed on Spottedleaf's corpse. He was vaguely aware of Whitestorm and Clawface, her killed, exchanging threats and spitting at the other, but the only thing that the ginger tom could see was the glistening red of her blood slowly trickling out into the Thunderpath, as if it were reaching out to him, beckoning him forward.
As he stared in disbelief, the torrential storm assaulting his pelt seemed to fade, desensitize into just a blanket of feeling. Unlike the ShadowClan warrior that Tigerclaw had slaughtered, there were no eyes to look into, no final emotions to try and extract from her corpse. She had closed herself off and died a dignified murder. Any final glimpses of her message to the apprentice were locked away behind those eyelids, shipped with her spirit away to the stars.
He didn't know how quickly the change was made, but what was once the body of the most dependable and powerful cat in Thunderclan looked to be nothing more than just a corpse. Something devoid of life, devoid of anything that made her special. Just a simple body with a slashed throat, passed into eternal sleep.
The world slowly became brighter as a monster fast approached, and with the WHOOSH broke Firepaw's fervor. He tried to breathe, but he could only gasp. Choke on his own breath and try to cough through the onslaught of rain. The world seemed to spin around him, at points feeling like the grass was holding him upside down, threatening to release him and let him fly away into the infinitely dark sky. He wanted to throw up, but his mouth was so dry that he simply gagged and retched in front of the asphalt.
Spottedleaf was gone. She was actually gone.
He wanted to weep, cry out his grief to the world, but his head was simply buzzing in chaos too much for him to relax, get a grip on any emotion he was feeling. It was a spinning cycle of anger, grief and shock and hopelessness and confusion. And when Whitestorm shook him out of his stupor with violently shivering paws and a terrified face, he was barely able to look him in the eyes.
" Firepaw…the camp…we have to go! "
" But…her body…she- "
" We don't have time! "
Indeed they didn't. Clawface was still there, grinning and standing over Spottedleaf's corpse. If they wanted to get it back, they would have to fight - and there was already a fight back home that they desperately needed to win. So as he gave one final, long, disbelieving look at the body of ThunderClan's beloved medicine cat, he turned and ran after Whitestorm into the forest.
" Run along, little warrior!" taunted Clawface as he disappeared into the night, "Run along to your demise! "
The sounds of battle and smell of blood were so loud and vibrant that Firepaw could hear them long before they made it back to camp. And as they approached the chasm that was home to ThunderClan, the apprentice yowled in pain as he felt a stab right into his pad. It was one of the thorns that they had laid out to try and draw blood from ShadowClan warriors trying to attack from above. From how thick the stench was, it looked like they had succeeded.
But it wasn't until the ginger tom stood above the edge and looked down at the camp to see the real damage. Cats were all around the clearing locked in battle, and it was difficult to see at first who was who. Everywhere he looked he saw splashes of crimson across the grass and staining pelts of all kinds. The rain splashed aggressively onto the Highrock, almost sounding like hail in the storm.
" Great StarClan… " murmured Whitestorm, who looked speechless and completely overwhelmed. The sight of a senior warrior looking so distraught…Firepaw felt his chaotic emotional spiral sober up a bit and he glanced down again to try and get a sense of the battle.
"We need to get in there…" he said to the other warrior, "Loop around and make sure the nursery and elder's den are still defended. I'll get to the other side and make sure the other apprentices are still standing." Whitestorm only gave himself a moment of surprise at the ginger tom giving him orders, but he nodded anyway and deftly descended down the slick rock that made up the edge of camp. Firepaw lifted his front paw and yanked the thorn out of his pad, flinched as he accidentally cut them further with his fang in an overbite and spat it out, slowly scaling the wall.
Being in the thick of battle…well, this was what he always wanted, wasn't it? But it was never under these circumstances. In his dreams, there was organization. A plan of attack, a war cry and a feeling of conviction. This was the wrong side of an ambush…even when he wasn't fighting anyone he felt like he was being crushed, having to push back against an unstoppable force for survival. And with the weight of Spottedleaf's death fresh in his brain, he felt further dampened in his movements.
Think, Firepaw… The ginger tom gave himself two deep breaths, then circled around the back of the warriors' den. The sounds of howling and wailing and gnashing of teeth filled his ears, nearly leaving the apprentice mentally stranded. But as his eyes searched and searched, he found a familiar face locked in a vicious fight with a younger ShadowClan tom.
Graypaw!
The moment he saw his friend pinned under his enemy by the chest, his paws could carry him without thought. With a yowl he launched himself right at the ShadowClan cat, slamming his full weight into his flank and knocking the tom away. The pain throbbing in his side from the impact reinvigorated him as he finally felt his lust for combat reignite.
" You alright?" called back Firepaw, crouching defensively to give Graypaw time to stand.
" Yeah…don't know how much…more I can take," the gray tom winced, Firepaw glancing back to see some nasty scratches on his flank and chest. Graypaw had the body build to last a few more rounds, but Firepaw would rather sacrifice some of his own blood then ask his friend to jump back into the fray.
"Get into the den…I got him." Firepaw glared at the ShadowClan tom, who looked beyond pissed that he'd been blindsided by another apprentice. Staring into the menacing amber eyes of his opponent, the ginger tom felt a rush of anger flood his mind, flushing all of his grief and pain to a place his brain couldn't reach. It was just the two of them now.
This was what he was born to do.
Firepaw lunged, not giving the ShadowClan warrior a chance to charge first, and knocked him onto his back with his teeth digging into his shoulder. Despite his enthusiasm, his opponent was twice his size and easily took control - the two cats rolled and splashed around in the mud, the weight of the ShadowClan warrior suddenly rolling over him making the tom lose both his breath and his grip on the skin.
It was difficult to perfectly recall every move Bluestar had told him, let alone stand when Firepaw was then bowled over by the tom and pinned onto his back. Quince called it a "death pin" where a cat had their enemy pinned belly up by their chest with free access to rip their throat out, but the slickness of the mud and rain made both the apprentice's fur slippery and allowed Firepaw to roll out of the grip and kick his hind legs right into the tom's stomach. The warrior hissed and stumbled back, but didn't fall. He was definitely stronger than Longtail had been that first day.
He had to think quickly. The shoulder bite looked to not even have drawn blood and a kick to the stomach wouldn't do. The tom was smiling, encouraged by the ineffectiveness of Firepaw's blows before lunging forward again. The weight slammed into his side like a fallen tree striking the ground and the ginger tom was just able to jerk his head far enough so the snapping of teeth just missed his ear. Mud splashed in his face as he hit the ground, blinding him. Firepaw swung and kicked out his paws to try and get out of the pin.
His claws hit flesh. Firepaw landed two scratches before he heard a low and vicious "mrrow " of pain and was whacked away by a swing of the ShadowClan warrior's paw. The ground of the camp was thoroughly soaked and the apprentice slid across the ground. Wiping his stinging eyes clear, Firepaw was only on his paws for a moment before getting slammed to the ground again, the disadvantage in weight starting to eat away at his stamina. Firepaw's chest burned. He clawed at the ground to slip away from getting pinned, but the tom was faster and ripped his claws down his flank.
Firepaw yowled in pain and scrambled away, panting and wincing. It wouldn't kill him, but the ginger tom knew it was gonna draw blood. Every breath felt like a lungful of smoke, and his mud-soaked pelt dripped in the stormy rain as he got to his paws. He was not going to back down, not when ThunderClan needed him the most. His battle stance felt painful to hold and the sights and sounds of the skirmish around him were blurry and distant.
Firepaw just stared at his opponent, his weakness evident. The ShadowClan tom laughed cockily, knowing the battle was won and rose up onto his hind legs to pounce and slam his full weight into the ginger tom to try and break his ribs…
Now.
The ginger tom pounced mid-taunt. Before the warrior could notice his mistake, he felt it as Firepaw slammed his forehead right into his chest, sinking his claws as deep as he could into his belly. There was a screech of pain. Firepaw only wished that his claws were sharper so the blow could have ended the battle, but the feeling of blood on his claws rejuvenated him.
Retaliation was swift. Firepaw felt the warrior's hind leg slam into his belly, sending him rolling back and knocking the wind right out of him. He groaned, coughing and trying not to swallow mud as he shakily got to his paws. His opponent hadn't attacked yet, still wincing and growling from the blow on his belly. Firepaw prayed that he'd turn away and accept defeat, because he knew that he couldn't take much more…
The ShadowClan tom knew that too. With wrath in his eyes, he charged. Firepaw growled and tried to launch himself out of the way, but his muscles seized. Impact was imminent and the ginger tom had a moment to brace for being knocked unconscious…
But he missed.
Well, he didn't miss, but he was knocked off-course. Firepaw glanced up to see the ShadowClan warrior hissing and getting to his feet, but suddenly backing down at a horrible growl from the cat to his side. Standing next to the ginger tom was Sandpaw, her eyes blazing with fury.
" Walk away. " she spat. Firepaw was on his paws once again, standing by her side and staring down the ShadowClan tom. The battle in his mind was clear to see - swallow his ego or risk getting beaten up more by getting outnumbered?
Slowly, he broke. With a hateful look on his face, he turned back and disappeared into the fray. Firepaw sighed, the pain of his wounds cutting through the adrenaline and stinging with the pouring rain.
" You alright? " called Sandpaw over the rain. Firepaw nodded, wincing and hissing quietly as he looked at his flank, bloodied and covered in mud. Sandpaw didn't look much better, with a nasty cut on her ear and cheek accompanying scratches on her neck and spine, but they were both standing.
" Forget what I said the other day, " she said over the rain, " You've got some good claws on you. "
Firepaw nodded, relieved to hear some banter in the midst of the chaos. " Thanks…still owe me a sparring session, though. "
" Ha! " said Sandpaw with a smirk, " Maybe when the world isn't ending. "
" Is everyone else alright? " said Firepaw, glancing around. Graypaw was tucked away in the apprentice den, trying to lick and clean his wounds in the one spot where the hole in the roof wasn't causing water to splash. Dustpaw was pretty beaten up, but Mousefur was right by his side as they hissed and forced a ShadowClan she-cat to retreat.
Firepaw looked into the storm and felt a swell in his chest. ShadowClan were on the retreat, the ThunderClan warriors forming a wall of mud-soaked fur and slashing claws as they surrounded them around the gorse entrance. " Retreat! " came a call from the fray, and the sounds of claws scrabbling on ravine rock and paws storming away from camp towards the Thunderpath moved in time with the sounds of the storm.
For a moment, just a small moment, the ginger tom smiled. We won.
Then everything came rushing back.
No. No, we didn't.
" Sandpaw… " said Firepaw, voice shaking again as he remembered the sight, the horrible sight of the tortoiseshell's corpse lying on the other side of the Thunderpath, " Spottedleaf…sh-she's… "
Sandpaw wasn't even looking at him. Her eyes were now on the nursery, a look of abject horror on her face. Firepaw followed her gaze, squinting through the rain until he saw…
Oh no.
A wail broke out, all the cats rushing and crowding the entrance of the den. Wails of horror, of grief. Sandpaw rushed into a sprint to shoulder through the congregation, but Firepaw could only limp. No, it wasn't true. It couldn't be…they had already lost so much, they couldn't possibly lose more.
A loud, guttural cry broke through the sounds of the storm. A cry as loud as a lion, one that shook the roots of the trees around him and made the earth shake. The sound of a tom, a tom that had just lost everything. Firepaw pushed through the crowd of stunned, heartbroken onlookers, the sight making something deep inside him crack.
It was Lionheart, ThunderClan's glorious deputy, wailing and sobbing. Before him was Frostfur, his mate, the mother of his kits, slaughtered. Her eyes were still wide, mouth parted in what could only be a desperate, pleading cry for her kits.
A cry for her kits that were no longer there.
The back of the nursery had been trashed. The only part of the nursery that was held together was a couple of lone sticks. Claw marks stained the wall behind them, the method of escape.
ShadowClan had taken the kits. Every single one of them.
Firepaw was going to be sick. This wasn't happening, surely. First, they had lost their medicine cat, then one of their queens and now the six kits, all taken. That was why ShadowClan had retreated. Because tonight was never about taking over their camp and eliminating ThunderClan from their territory. It had never been about that.
"That's the only way you can truly get revenge," B rokenstar had said, "You defeat the opponent so decisively that they lose the will to fight back. "
The first cat to break through the circle and comfort the heartbroken deputy was Goldenflower, Lionheart's sister. Injured but still alive, she dragged her pregnant body forward and cast her forelegs around the golden tom to pull him into a tight hug. Lionheart, the glorious deputy that Firepaw once thought invincible, wailed and sobbed into her pelt. A horrible noise through which his nobility slowly bled out into nothing. Graypaw, who had now seen everything, was immediately right there to comfort him as well.
Firepaw could barely look away from Frostfur's corpse. The look of terror, of pleading. She had been so cold to him in the few moments that they had interacted, telling her kits that he was an outsider and not to be trusted. But in her eyes Firepaw saw the look of a mother. A mother realizing that she was losing everything she loved.
Like his own mother, the night that his life in the city died with the rain.
Firepaw stepped away, glancing at the wall where ShadowClan had escaped. Whitestorm, Lionheart's beloved, was in a frenzy, trying to scrape himself up there and hunt them down. Find them by himself. Sandpaw was the only cat that stood in his way, snapping at him to go be with his mate.
" I failed! I failed them! " the apprentice heard the white warrior wail helplessly into the stormy night, crumpling where he stood there and allowing his apprentice to hold him tightly.
Firepaw looked further and further into the relics of the battleground and soon saw what he was looking for. Bluestar was in a frenzy, pacing back and forth, blue eyes swirling as hard as the storm above them. She dipped into the medicine den, then back out, cursing to herself and talking so fast she sounded incomprehensible.
" Bluestar… " said Firepaw, voice unstable.
" Not now, Firepaw. " she snapped back, " I need…I need to…she must have gone this way…then out to- "
" Bluestar, please… " Firepaw was going to start crying soon. He didn't want to be the one to tell her…
" That's impossible because she never left camp…I never allowed her…she couldn't have- ..." Bluestar suddenly slashed her claws into the ground, mud splattering back onto her stained pelt and further coating it in dirt. " No…no, there has to be something…she must have slipped up, somewhere because- "
" Bluestar! " pleaded Firepaw. Now Bluestar's attention was had.
" WHAT!? " she roared. The ThunderClan leader was angry, holding onto the rage inside her like a branch in a roaring river of built-up grief. " Tell me what happened, Firepaw! Why, on a holy night that StarClan has used to further connections with the Clan do they take EVERYTHING from us? Where could they possibly be, Firepaw? WHERE IS MY MEDICINE CAT- "
" SHE'S DEAD! "
Firepaw's shout was high-pitched, pathetic, broken. Nothing like the ferocious apprentice who held off a ShadowClan cat by himself until his body gave out. The grief he felt for everything that ThunderClan had lost bore down upon him like a boulder. The heartbreak he felt was seemingly none of his own, but all of ThunderClan's. Everything simultaneously cut deep inside of him, tearing him to shreds and making him bleed.
And Bluestar? Well, the only way Firepaw could describe what was going through her eyes was the same thing he was feeling. The horrible, existential realization of just how much ThunderClan had lost in a single stormy night.
" No…no…she… " said the leader quietly, barely audible over the sound of the rain.
" Th-They killed her…on the ShadowClan…b-b-border… " Firepaw felt cold, the images of her death burned into his brain, " She…we couldn't…we-... '
Bluestar fell back onto her haunches, jaw slack and eyes wide. Back when Bluestar had given the order to defend the camp, Firepaw had seen her look defeated before a drop of blood was shed, compulsively filled with dread. She looked colder now, like an empty husk of flesh and fur devoid of all emotion. Like it had been squeezed out of her very body and bled out through the cuts on her neck.
The cuts on her neck. Bluestar had surely lost a life. And now the next one she was to live was one that left ThunderClan in tatters. Spottedleaf was dead, every kit that ThunderClan was raising was gone.
" I…need to…see…my deputy… " she said quietly. Her voice was eerily calm, almost as if she were incapable of feeling. Eyes burning with mud and grief, Firepaw watched as his mentor and leader stood and silently walked towards the nursery, where Lionheart and Whitestorm were wailing their grief into each other's pelts.
Was this the world of his dreams? The one that he had been fantasizing about his whole life? Had he stumbled into a forest and been recruited into a Clan in their final days? Was this a further method of torture, a way of locking him in purgatory for the destruction of torture and loss and grief?
He had been adorned as a savior. The one who the ancestors believed would save the Clan. Was this just punishment for his sins, being told to try and save a Clan that was beyond saving?
It was all too much. His throat clenched up and Firepaw keeled over, bile spewing onto the muddy ground of camp below him. The apprentice couldn't even move with how much he was shaking, forced to spill his guts out right in the middle of the clearing. His throat burned, his insides felt scorched.
This was surely, as Sandpaw said, the end of the world.
The rain stopped not long before the sun slowly creeped up, lighting up the dark and cloudy sky a drab and depressing gray. Firepaw hadn't slept - no one in ThunderClan had. Everyone had just sat and watched the time go by in the remains of their home, every den made of sticks and moss trashed and flooded with water.
When the rain had let up enough so that everyone could see what was around them in the menacing morning light, Frostfur's body had been brought out to the center of the clearing. Someone, likely Lionheart, had closed her eyes and mouth to try and give the illusion of peace. But her face was still taut and clenched in a way that made Firepaw only see the cry for her kits, the cry that she would leave this earth screaming out forever. Lionheart was out there with her, face buried into her flank as he cried every single tear he had, as Whitestorm sat right by his side and cradled him like a kit.
Not too long after, Mousefur gently carried out the body of One-eye. The elders didn't know when she had passed in the night, but the den had not been attacked. Not a single claw was on her body yet she looked just as tortured and pained as the rest of ThunderClan. Despite her being unable to hear or see what her Clan had lost, she could feel it in her heart. And it had been too much for the oldest cat in ThunderClan to handle.
There was supposed to be a burial process. Some ceremony and vigil before their bodies were taken out and put to rest. But no one seemed compelled to remember. Everyone, including Firepaw, wanted to forget. Wanted to go back and fix it as if that was the only way forward. How does a Clan simply move forward after losing as much as they had?
Bluestar certainly didn't know. The ThunderClan leader had disappeared after giving her condolences to the deputy. It was like she knew that no one wanted to know what she had to say, allowing everyone to wallow in the mud and grief.
Spottedleaf, Frostfur, One-eye, six kits. Struck down on the half-moon by the most vindictive and cruel leader the Clans had ever seen.
The four apprentices that had fought in the battle were huddled together in the dry corner of their den. Dustpaw and Graypaw were both in their respective fitful sleeps while Firepaw and Sandpaw stood nearby, unable to take their eyes away from what had happened. To think that they had just begun being formal rivals, ones battling to be the best not even a few weeks ago.
"I don't know what to do…" murmured Sandpaw, her voice grisled and dry from weeping, "They look so…helpless. I know they lost everything, but…"
Firepaw agreed. It was difficult to watch two of their strongest warriors look so broken, so beyond repair. "It's not like we can fight back…they'll be expecting us to charge in with a rage and no plan."
The two sat in silence, Firepaw glancing down at the gray-furred apprentice kicking his hind leg out in his sleep. "Do you think the kits are still alive?" asked the light-tan she-cat quietly.
Firepaw looked at her and thought about it. There was a chance…surely if they had just wanted to kill the kits, they would have slaughtered them in the den. But what was even the purpose of keeping them alive? "Maybe…though I don't know why Brokenstar would want them alive."
"Well…" said Sandpaw bitterly, "Kits are pretty good bargaining chips."
Firepaw wanted to gag at the thought. She was right. This was how Brokenstar defeated ThunderClan…take their kits and break their hearts so they have no choice but to give up their land. "StarClan…I just wanna…do something… " he hissed quietly.
"I know," Sandpaw nodded, "Me too."
Both apprentices looked up as Bluestar walked down carefully from the Highrock, moving to sit by Lionheart's side and resting her tail on the deputy's shoulder. She, like everyone in the Clan, was still caked in mud and untended wounds. The leader didn't speak, simply sitting in silence as the rest of the Clan started to gather around them and the bodies unprompted.
Firepaw and Sandpaw started to join them. Their movements were as one with the rest of the Clan - slow, sluggish, uninspired. Everyone's eyes looked tired and drained, as if hope for a better tomorrow had been ripped out of their chests. The ginger tom looked down at the bodies again, slowly bowing his head in silence.
"My friends, I…" Bluestar said quietly, "I am not quite sure…what I can say that will bring comfort or ease the pain. This is one of the darkest days in our Clan's history . "
Everyone either nodded silently or remained still as she continued to find words to say. "I'm sure you all know by now…that in addition to those before us we have lost…we have also lost our beloved medicine cat, Spottedleaf , " Bluestar's sniff was the only noise made. Everyone knew. "We are left to face the future in a very, very dark time. One that not even my predecessors have been forced to confront . "
The dread hung low over the Clan like smog. "I suppose we shall begin with…rebuilding. We must repair the nursery so Goldenflower and Speckletail may have space to have their kits…then I do suppose we must…begin a search for volunteers who are willing to…attempt training to be our next medicine cat. I am unsure how that process will go…for I doubt very much that StarClan has us in their…priorities right now-"
" Bluestar! "
A familiar voice rang through the camp, making everyone turn towards the entrance. Firepaw looked up and felt a chill down his spine as Tigerclaw slowly approached. His amber eyes were alight and his fur was coated with fresh blood. The apprentice could scent ShadowClan on his fur.
"Tigerclaw?" said Bluestar, growing very concerned over the blood on his pelt, "Where have you been."
" Hunting. "
There was venom in his voice again, a tone that Firepaw had seen only used with Ravenpaw. A collective murmur passed through those gathered, eyes on the blood on his fur and claws. Despite the knowledge that the blood on his pelt was indisputably ShadowClan's, the apprentice started to grow very, very nervous.
Bluestar's eyes narrowed into a glare. "You trespassed on ShadowClan territory? So soon after an attack-"
" They took our kits, Bluestar, " snarled Tigerclaw, " I wanted information. And that's exactly what I got… " Even in spite of him seeing the tabby tom talking with a ShadowClan cat on the border, Firepaw could see nothing but a ruthless lust for vengeance burning inside him. In that moment, he was what the rest of them wanted to feel - enraged and wanting blood.
"I found one of the cats that had tried to attack the nursery last night. Recognized him from his cuts and all," said Tigerclaw, voice as calm as a lake on a sunny day, like he wasn't confessing to murdering a warrior of another Clan, "Turns out that taking the kits was never part of the original plan…but rather, an ' intriguing opportunity ' as he said…" The tabby paused to spit on the ground, receiving a rumble of approval, "And…perhaps the most shocking part…was that this opportunity was made possible… because they had a mole right in the heart of ThunderClan. "
At first there were yowls of shock, but they quickly dissolved into roars and hisses of anger. Firepaw couldn't believe it at first…had Yellowfang not just covered for Graypaw and helped prevent an attack on RiverClan? Had she not earned Spottedleaf's trust enough for the tortoiseshell to fake a sign from StarClan to protect her? But then, slowly, he could believe it. A ShadowClan outsider, forced to walk the brink of starvation in the nursery before being threatened into joining ThunderClan? Perhaps Yellowfang had never been exiled in the first place. Perhaps this was what Brokenstar had been planning all along.
Rage began to bubble inside him. He had been tricked - the whole Clan had been tricked. And now they were paying the price. Lionheart, Whitestorm, everyone in ThunderClan looked just as furious as he did.
Except for Bluestar, who looked crushed. Eyes closed in shame, she lowered her head as the other cats, those who had suspected her from the start and wanted her dead for the kit-killing allegations, shot their venom right back at her. Firepaw didn't look at her, eyes glancing around everyone else in the Clan who now had one desire: to kill the molly that had taken their kits.
The shouting only stopped when Tigerclaw, who looked calm and confident in his newfound stance of power, raised his paw to silence the Clan.
" Well, Bluestar? " he growled.
The ThunderClan leader sighed. "You were right…you advocated for her death and I did not listen. Tigerclaw…Lionheart, Whitestorm, I sincerely apologize-"
"We know that you are regretful of your decision, Bluestar," interrupted Tigerclaw coldly. Firepaw felt something kick inside him that made him turn his glare right onto his amber eyes as the tabby pressed forward. "This is something through which penance cannot be found in words…but rather, in blood. "
There was a collective cheer at that. Sandpaw, the loyal apprentice of one of the fathers who had lost their kits, joined in the hurrah. Graypaw, the other father's apprentice, was quiet. Firepaw looked back to his mentor, whose eyes slowly gave way from regret and shame to a similar, shared anger.
" You're right. "
Bluestar stepped forward, standing taller than the Clan had seen her in the last week, "Cats of ThunderClan…we have been betrayed by someone I falsely trusted. She has taken everything from us…so I order all able warriors to search the territory. Enlist RiverClan's assistance if necessary and search outside the territory. Do not rest until her blood soaks your paws. "
There was a roar, a ravenous cheer that rose up from the ThunderClan cats. They had been reinvigorated, the bodies and all that they had lost being torched as fuel for their bloodlust. Tigerclaw stood above it all, smiling proudly at himself for the work that he had done. As Lionheart and Whitestorm went up and thanked the tabby for spreading the good news, the amber-eyes warrior whispering promises that they would bring them back alive, Firepaw couldn't keep his eyes off him.
Everything that he had said…everything that he had done…he had roused the Clan from the depths of grief and despair. And yet the ginger tom still couldn't forget the blood that Ravenpaw had lost from his claws, nor the way he stood at ShadowClan's border. This was not as it seemed. Tigerclaw was planning something and Firepaw had no idea what it was.
The tabby noticed his staring and instead of growling, flashed a confident, cocky smirk. One that told the ginger tom that he was probably right and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
The clouds still hung low over the forest at sunhigh and the mud still clung to Firepaw's fur, but there was renewed purpose in his step. Bluestar had come to the reasonable realization that sending everyone out at once to hunt down Yellowfang was a bad idea since that would leave the camp defenseless, so she sent out partners in search parties. The ginger tom and Graypaw - per his request - were both headed towards the border between WindClan and RiverClan, hoping that they could find assistance from the latter once Lionheart pleaded his case to Crookedstar.
Though the adrenaline rush of hunting down a traitor was enough to keep him walking strong for a while, Firepaw was beginning to feel the effects of leaving the wounds untreated. Since there were no medicine cats, no one knew how to treat the wounds beyond just patching up with cobwebs and using poppy seeds to sleep. If they didn't get someone with medical knowledge in their den soon, every warrior who had fought in the battle would surely have their wounds infected by the mud.
"Ah-..." winced Firepaw as his flank throbbed up in pain, "I can't…I…sorry, I need to stop for a minute…" They stopped at the nearby tree, the ginger tom leaning against the soggy bark and hissing quietly through the prickling pain while Graypaw sat nearby, looking distant and sad.
"You…alright?" Firepaw asked quietly.
"Me? Yeah," said Graypaw, waving him off, "I'm just…confused. And upset."
The ginger tom nodded. "We all are. Don't…don't feel bad about it."
"It's just…" his friend sighed, looking more morose than angry, "I know what you and everyone else said about Yellowfang, but I just never got the feeling that she was a bad cat."
"She beat me half to death, Graypaw ," snapped Firepaw.
"Well, yeah , but…she also saved my hide from getting skinned by Lionheart."
"She probably…saw an opportunity to use us as bait to…get RiverClan to do what she wanted or something," retorted the ginger tom, the pain starting to make him more and more aggravated.
"It just doesn't make sense…" said the gray tom quietly, "None of it does! I just can't help but feel like there's something else at play here that we can't see-"
" Why are you trying to defend her!? " snapped Firepaw angrily, " She tricked us all and she helped ShadowClan steal our kits! Why are you trying to justify what she did- "
"I'm not!" shot back Graypaw, deeply offended, "I would never try to excuse any of what she did! I'm just saying that it doesn't make-"
"Yeah! She got us all good! Including me! End of story, this all gets resolved when we kill her and then get them back from ShadowClan! Why are you trying to make this more complicated than it is?"
"Because I don't think killing her will fix anything! If she dies, we won't know why-"
"We do know why! It's because she's a traitor! A dirty, lying traitor who probably also got Spottedleaf killed! Is that not enough to just kill her before she tries to weasel her way out of our grasp with more lies!?"
Graypaw was clearly growing more and more upset, but desperately tried to get Firepaw to back off. "Look…Firepaw, I know you're angry-"
" ME? ANGRY!? " roared the ginger tom right into his friend's face, " Wow! What a shock! It's almost like I had to watch the one cat who can give me comfort in my purpose in life get her cussing throat slit right in front of me! It's almost like our entire Clan just got manipulated for weeks by someone who I should NEVER have trusted because she tried to KILL ME! And now, it's almost like my best friend is trying to tell me that there's something there that I'm not seeing! TELL ME, GRAY! WHAT AM I TOO STUPID TO SEE!? "
Firepaw struck a nerve. Graypaw looked shocked, appalled at his friend's response before turning away. Immediately, the ginger tom felt an overwhelming surge of regret at what he had just said. " Ratspit…Graypaw, I'm sorry. I didn't mean- "
"It's fine." He sounded like he was about to cry. Firepaw had just made his best friend cry.
"No, it's not, I-"
" It's fine, Firepaw. " He still didn't turn to look at him, voice shaking, " I-It's like I told you…It's not my right to know everything. I'm just…happy…to come along… "
"Graypaw, please listen to me. " He was starting to walk away and Firepaw was on his paws, limping after him, " I'm sorry! I didn't mean that! Please don't leave! I- "
SNAP!
Both toms stopped, heads whipping in the same direction. Firepaw scented the air…mostly WindClan with a bit of RiverClan. But as the breeze flowed past his nose, he picked up another scent. The scent that everyone in ThunderClan was looking for.
Yellowfang.
With a glance to make sure Graypaw was still near, Firepaw lowered himself to the ground and snuck closer and closer to the bush, where a clearing that stretched into the plains of WindClan territory spread out beyond. He held his breath, ears perked. He was ready to kill the moment he saw something…
And then…out of the corner of his eye…
Black fur.
Firepaw pounced, letting out a battle cry of rage and bowled over the cat. His claws were out and the moment the two of them hit the ground, the ginger tom was kicking his target onto their back, pinning them down. " You…you traitor! " he roared, rearing back his claws and preparing to kill.
Then he heard the voice of the cat beneath him. " WAIT! WAIT! Firepaw, it's me! "
Firepaw stopped, blood still hammering in his brain. He looked down and saw not the old, vicious yellow eyes that had haunted his nightmares for weeks, but a pair of young green ones.
" Ravenpaw? "
Ravenpaw nodded, quickly kicking away from the apprentice's pin and getting to his paws. Firepaw was baffled. "Where…Where in StarClan's name have you been? We haven't seen you-...we just got attacked, Spottedleaf is dead! They took our kits, they-"
The ginger tom scented again. Yellowfang's scent was not an illusion. It was there, on Ravenpaw's fur. Immediately, the ginger tom's green eyes were narrowed, furrowing quickly into a wrathful, disbelieving glare. The black apprentice picked up on it, too, eyes widening in panic and taking a precautionary step back.
" Why do you smell like her? "
"Firepaw…wait…I can explain-"
That did it.
Firepaw snapped, launching himself again into Ravenpaw with a hellish roar. He didn't care that they were friends, fellow apprentices, or that he was a victim of Tigerclaw. He was involved in this. Somehow. There was no other explanation. His brain was breaking, the ginger tom beyond reason now.
Ravenpaw was pinned beneath him, feebly trying to defend himself. His green eyes were wide with terror, his voice pleading to stop and let him explain. Firepaw was seething. Furious. Him, too. Everyone in this StarClan-forsaken forest was a traitor at this rate. And now the cat that had made himself to be a victim of it all had turned tail, betrayed ThunderClan, betrayed them all. But as Firepaw raised his claws to rip out Ravenpaw's throat, Graypaw slammed into his flank and toppled him over. The ginger apprentice kicked out, shouting and spitting and hissing as his friend held him from behind and pinned him to the ground.
" Let me go! He's a traitor, he-...IS EVERYONE HERE A TRAITOR?! " he wailed into the clearing. Ravenpaw, despite being moments from death, was back on his paws and trying to get Firepaw's attention.
"Firepaw, please let me explain-"
" I trusted you! I trusted you, Ravenpaw! We all did! " spat Firepaw in a frenzy, " Why would you do this? Why would you help Yellowfang escape!? "
" Because Spottedleaf told me to! "
It was like the wind was taken out of Firepaw's lungs. He froze mid-kick, his wild eyes finding Ravenpaw's pleading green. No, surely not. There was no possible way that she was somehow behind this , something beyond her grave. " You're lying…you must be lying- "
" Please, Firepaw. You know as well as I do that she…she's known about this for weeks. This is exactly how she said it had to go."
Graypaw was baffled by this explanation. " Spottedleaf's dead, Ravenpaw. What are you talking about? " But Firepaw knew. Firepaw knew exactly what Ravenpaw was talking about. He knew that even through it all, Spottedleaf was still the one who had that immaculate connection between ThunderClan and StarClan. And if there was anyone who would try and orchestrate Yellowfang's disappearance that would tie in to the apprentice she was closest to, it would be her.
Firepaw was still furious. In disbelief. Because Ravenpaw had been disappearing for days at a time with no explanation. He had been keeping secrets, refusing to elaborate on what Tigerclaw had been doing to him. All this time…and now on the day that ThunderClan lost everything he was not only absent but helping the traitor escape. Yet he looked desperate. Truly desperate to finally explain what was really going on.
Though Graypaw was now slowly coming to the realization that Ravenpaw may have actually been a traitor the whole time, Firepaw slowly shouldered the gray tom's claws off of his body. His breathing was heavy, his eyes intense as he slowly stepped forward. It took everything in his body to keep himself composed and not rip the black tom to shreds.
" Six kits, Ravenpaw, " he snarled quietly, " They took all six kits. They killed Frostfur. "
Ravenpaw looked truly aggrieved with regret. "I know…I wish I could have fought alongside you, but-"
" No. No more excuses. " snapped Firepaw coldly. Graypaw was soon right next to him, eyes demanding an explanation. " Prove to us why Tigerclaw wasn't right about you all along. "
That hurt the apprentice, but he still sighed and took a seat. His eyes were closed as he pondered what he was to say. Firepaw was so ready to hear some half-baked lie about how he had just been walking around to clear his head…something that would keep the truth far, far away from them as Ravenpaw had always done.
After a few moments of quiet, the black tom looked up at his friends. His green eyes shone with sadness, but also resolve.
"It's time for me to tell you the truth. About everything. "