Chapter 20

There was little time to mourn their fallen Clanmates. There was little time to smooth their pelts. The bodies were already stiff, but Shadefur had swiftly positioned them to look more peaceful, nestling Thunderkit into what was left of Snowstripe's belly to make it look like they were cuddling. She'd gently coaxed their eyes into closing. While the humans were taking stock of the situation, the Clan had to flee before whoever owned those dogs came for revenge. She did her best to dignify them as much as possible with what time there was.

Darkwood sent out a party of warriors and apprentices to the empty warehouse a few blocks away. While they made sure it was safe enough and got to work cleaning it up, the rest of the battered felines began to trickle out of the scrapyard.

Fogtail and Rainstep left, the white warrior leaning on his mate for support, the two followed by Ironpaw and Willowpounce. Emberfur's hind leg had suffered a nasty bite, and the other elders kept close to him as they slipped beneath the fence. There was no way they could've run away in time, and Webtail was questioning if the others should have gone without them. Her denmates shut that down as best they could.

Shadefur had to pop Windfang's shoulder back into place. She limped over to the dip in the ground and slipped under the fence. Fallfur and her kits were close behind, a hazy look in the apprentices' eyes. Little by little but as fast as they could manage, they disappeared into the hot, winding paths of the City.

"Can I carry you, Vinekit?" asked Bulletpounce gently.

Her muzzle was buried in her mother's fur. There was a long pause before she answered. At last, she pulled away, bits of red on her face, and nodded.

Graveltail, being so short on breath, couldn't take a kit of her own. Tiger, fur still stained from her kill, volunteered to carry one. She got Featherkit, Shadefur took Icekit, and Darkwood took Coalkit. They all filed through the little opening with the queen and Carmen, her own fur stiff with dried blood and filled to the brim with filth.

They made their way to the warehouse, took care of what injuries they could, and found a spot to sleep.

#

Late that night, Hawktalon opened his eyes. He did not yawn or stretch or brush the crust from them. Instead he simply rose to his feet automatically and started to wander. He stepped lightly as he circled the sleeping figures of his Clanmates. He padded silently around and watched the rise and fall of their breathing patterns. Hawktalon knew instinctively by now that some of them were missing, and he knew exactly who.

His eyes lingered on a sleeping Darkwood before he turned and walked out of the room. As he passed Steelclaw and Glasspaw by the doorway, he whispered, "I'm up. Let's go."

They wordlessly trailed behind him for a few minutes. The three navigated their way out of the building and Steelclaw took the lead. He trotted along a parking lot webbed with dandelions and stringy grass. They passed a few piles of tires and garbage. They made their way past a few smaller buildings and over to one a touch separate from the others in its group. Steelclaw jumped atop a tower of spare bricks that had yet to fall apart, then scrambled up a gutter to the roof.

Stainpelt's blue stare was aglow in the light of the half moon, and the moon shone bright and low in the distance, setting his pelt alight with a silvery aura. With him were the rest of the Inner Guard. Even Windfang, who was complaining about the climb and how badly her leg hurt.

"This spot's a powerful vantage point. We can have our meeting and watch over the Clan." His voice was even and emotionless, not flat but something like it. Whatever "flat" meant when referring to Stainpelt's voice.

"What was that, today?" Asked Rustfang, tail thrashing about.

"What was what, today?"

"You know what I'm talking about! I said to fall back so we could strategize, not so we could piss off the dog enough to kill one our kits!" His claws were out, fur fluffed, and no one was eager to stop him from making a move. "Why did you tell us to tackle it?"

"Was Darkwood coming up with any better solutions?"

"He said to draw it away from the nursery," said Glasspaw quietly.

"And take it where, exactly? Don't act like you know what you're talking about!" Ironpaw was muzzle to muzzle with her.

Realization poured into Hawktalon's head like a flood. He'd stayed behind, at the edge of the roof, a little broken off from the rest of the Guard. His mind had been filled with sticky cobwebs and images of spewing blood; his senses drowned in the weight of knowing two of his Clanmates were dead. Now, he rose up to his full size and strode across to Stainpelt, pushing Rustfang out of his way as he did.

"This… was your fault?"

Stainpelt stared up at him for a long moment before finally turning away. "My plan was to knock the dog off its feet. Scare it enough to run away. Tell me, how was I supposed to account for the door falling off of the car?"

Hawktalon didn't move. His teeth were bared and he was breathing hard, but he didn't move.

"Things happen, my friends. Things have happened since before the Clan was ever thought of. Do you really believe Snowstripe and Thunderkit's deaths were something I orchestrated? I brought the Inner Guard together to keep our Clan safe. Why in the world would I do anything to harm it?"

Reluctantly, Hawktalon backed off and Rustfang settled down. Steelclaw and Windfang kept an eye on the apprentices. Glasspaw was still timid, but not timid as she used to be, and there was an unspoken warning between the warriors that a fight may break out if they weren't careful. No one needed that right now.

"I understand your anger, friends. I understand your pain. But if what happened out there is any indication of what is to come, then we must not divide ourselves. The Clan will need its inner circle now more than ever."

"Is that why you made me drag myself all the way up here?" snapped Windfang. "How am I any use to the Clan if my shoulder's busted?"

"How many warriors can say they're able to climb after the blow you suffered? You can handle it, my dear. That's why we invited you."

She didn't have a response to that.

A few heartbeats went by before Glasspaw piped up: "So, what now?"

"We need a backup plan for when Carmen's make-believe star burns ou- ah… Do you smell that?"

Hawktalon's fur stood on end. That was colony scent. Pharaoh's colony's scent.

"They're not close, but we can smell 'em, which makes 'em close enough," said Rustfang.

"Did they follow us out here?" asked Ironpaw.

There was a wicked gleam in Stainpelt's eyes. "Now everyone, don't you see why the Clan needs us?"

#

When at last their meeting dispersed and he was able to stumble back inside, Hawktalon found that someone else had awoken, too.

Carmen paid no attention to the felines filing in and looking for a place to lie down. She licked her muzzle and made a face in between trying to clean gunk and dried blood from her fur. He couldn't say he blamed her. Just trying to get clean wasn't some deadly sin, and Hawktalon wasn't looking forward to tackling his own pelt.

The rest of the Inner Guard plopped down somewhere, save for Glasspaw and her mentor, who returned to guard duty. Hawktalon was too tired to sleep, so he padded over to the corner where Carmen sat.

"You look like a crime scene."

"You're one to talk." She gave herself a few more licks. "That was insane. What Tiger did. What… What was that?"

"I don't know," he admitted, licking a paw to wipe his ear. "I've never seen anything like it. If I had to guess, I'd say she found its jugular, but I've never heard of anyone trying that on a dog. Guess Darkwood was right about her."

Carmen stopped and took a breath. "I don't like her."

"I don't think anyone expected you to. She looks too mongrel for your tastes."

"It's not that."

He gave her a skeptical look.

"It's not… just that."

He snorted. "Well, in any case, good luck convincing Darkwood not to let her join now."

It was surreal to be in this moment. The City's thrum had dulled to a comfortable background noise. The room was dark and almost everyone was asleep. This moment was still and quiet, yet painfully liminal in nature. He was so far away from home, with the colony lurking out there somewhere, having a civil conversation with Carmen of all cats. If Hawktalon closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself to forget the world, for it felt miles away from him. He was strangely detached in a way he wasn't ready to let go of. Tomorrow, he would have to face the music. Tonight, life was muffled, and he and the pet could talk. Just talk. It didn't last more than a few heartbeats, but he soaked in that moment and hoped that he could hide in it forever.

Not a very warrior thing to do.

"Was it my fault?" she asked weakly.

"Was what your fault?"

"Snowstripe. Thunderkit." Her voice broke when it spoke their names. "I told them to hide by the door. Then it broke."

Hawktalon spat out a mouthful of filth. "Are you lying about this star?"

"No!"

"Then no, it's not your fault. Sometimes…" He gritted his teeth. "Sometimes, things just happen."

Carmen took a moment to let his words sink in. She got up and shook herself off. "This isn't working. Come on."

"Wha- where are you going?"

"The fountain. I need a proper bath. Besides, it's hot in here."