Chapter 13

Darkwood emerged from the shadows of the room with a strange gleam in his eyes. There was much more white in his fur than before, but he was feeling better than he had. He looked around at the battle playing out and quickly found the spotted silver pelt of his enemy.

There was a strange pulsing in his mind that Darkwood couldn't exactly name. His thoughts weren't moving as fast as they should have been. He knew that the Clan was under attack, though, and he knew that he needed to fight.

He forced his aching paws into action. His muscles rippled beneath his pelt as he charged. A wicked grin lighting Pharaoh's muzzle, he bounded towards him. Ancient energies hummed in the Mau's claws. He pounced…

Tigerstripe, then darkness, then they were both gone. Vanished without a trace of either cat. Darkwood stood there, stuttering questions at the empty space. He shook himself into wakefulness. No, he could think about it later. Now, there was a battle to be won.

He slipped into it like he'd never even stopped. Blow after blow after skull-rattling blow. Tackles and bites and blood roaring in his ears. He rolled beneath an opponent and threw them a few tail lengths in the air. They landed clumsily. A headbutt and a bite and a twist to tear their flesh. Darkwood fought, caught up in the flow of it all, until he realized he could hear someone giving orders…

Stainpelt was calling out to his fellow warriors. He would yell out for one to dodge, another to go for the throat, and more still to coalesce into some formation or another, working with the tight space as well he could. He stood atop the upturned pile of debris they had been keeping that Colony cat in. Human music blared so loud that it was hard for Darkwood to hear himself think. Somehow, Stainpelt's voice found a way to cut through. The window was dark, but his icy eyes gleamed like chips of neon light.

And Darkwood realized that the battle was ending. There was a little plish as someone ran through a pool of blood. Colony scent had started to fade. Stainpelt was laser-focused on the task at hand, weeding out lurkers and directing warriors to help the wounded escape.

"Shadefur, Scatterstep's over here! Windfang, help her get him outside! On your left, Bullet, left! Glassclaw, go for the eyes!"

Darkwood's heart pounded like thunder, and a beautiful warmth seeped through his veins. His prayers were answered! His Clan was united! Even in the absence of their leader, everyone came together to fight for their Clan. Stainpelt had taken the reigns while Darkwood recovered. He'd been keeping things under control.

A word flashed through his mind: deputy. And he knew at once what it meant. This is what a Clan was supposed to do. This is what a Clan was supposed to be. They didn't just need a leader; they needed someone whose role was to step up when the leader couldn't.

Elation fueled his legs. He charged back into the fray. It was time to finish this off! Afterwards, he'd assume control once again and promote Stainpelt to his new position. The stench of blood filled his throat and almost choked him. His bones burned with a paranormal intensity. He danced the dance of a warrior until he stood, pelt dripping and tongue lolling out, in a room littered with bodies.

"Alright," he panted. "Where are the wounded? Any casualties?"

Hawktalon appeared at his side. "Emberfur, Willowpounce… And two apprentices. Ironpaw and Slagpaw. Plenty more wounded. They're out back. Some, we don't know if they'll make it."

Darkwood stared at him, pain ripping through his chest. The weight of the world crashed down him all at once, and he swallowed a wail of grief. His toes, what was left of them, flexed as though unsheathing his long-gone claws. A shiver ran through him, making the fur along his spine stand up.

Why? Why had Pharaoh followed them here? What did he stand to gain from chasing the Clan? Why all the hatred? Why all the violence? Why did they have to suffer? Why? WHY?

But he couldn't fold now. The Clan needed its leader back. They needed stability.

"I see…"

"Bellpaw's got the queens," said Mosswhisker. "Took 'em to that park a few blocks away."

"Stainpelt's idea," said Flameclaw, a few steps lower on the pile of debris.

"Does she know?"

"I don't think so. She left before it happened, if I remember right," said Mosswhisker guiltily.

"Okay." Darkwood's voice was like weathered, old stone. "I think… First, we'll need a Clan meeting. Would someone go get Bellpaw and the queens?"

He started making his way toward the pile. It was the tallest thing in the building, so it was the best place for the Clan's leader to speak from. He hopped up the bricks and cinder blocks at the bottom, scaled some old planks of wood…

But Flameclaw didn't move from his path.

Confused, he blinked at the orange tabby and gestured with his muzzle. He didn't budge, leering at Darkwood with a fiery hostility that just didn't make any sense. Darkwood parted his jaws to speak, but a fresh wave of earth-shaking music pushed through the air. It loosened some bits of rubble beneath the plank of wood, and he tumbled down into a pool of sticky blood still leaking from some Colony cat's neck.

Darkwood stood and tried to shake himself off, but filth and carnage caked his pelt. He looked up at Stainpelt's cold, gleaming eyes. What was…?

"Darkwood… You have led us through many a trial. For that, we are eternally grateful. But there are some of us who feel it's time for you to step down."

"I… what? I was sick, but I've recovered now. I'm alright. You don't have to worry-"

"Forgive me, but… how can we trust you now? How can we trust you still, after seeing what you've led us to?"

Darkwood shook his head, taking a step back. "I don't understand."

"Your judgment has begun to fail you in your old age. It's a harsh truth, but it's truth nonetheless." Stainpelt flicked his tail and sat gracefully above all else. "We have come so far and suffered so much in the name of brighter days. Yet, every step of our journey has been tread in the darkness of night. Following a pet. Following a star that only Carmen can see."

"And can anyone tell me where our dear little friend has gone? Not a sign of her since the full moon. She was set on the path of a Show Cat, lest we forget. Mayhaps she's finally found what she was looking for."

Darkwood shook his head. "No. She wouldn't-"

"You've been sharing your role with her, Darkwood. You've been sharing your role in our Clan with a pampered pet. Allowing an outsider who has no interest in proving herself to decide the path we take. An outsider, and a rather young one at that."

"Carmen is our friend," he growled with bared teeth.

"Carmen is a rogue," he stated.

Murmurs spread beneath the weight of the noise, and Darkwood felt his heart drop all over again. No, the Clan wasn't united. It was more broken up than ever before. He needed to fix this! He needed to set things right!

#

Mosswhisker had rejoined the crowd to find her mother and sister for the most part unharmed. The three of them had gathered among the inner circle surrounding Darkwood. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her heart pounded wearily against the walls of her chest. A glance at Glassclaw told her all she needed to know.

Because Glassclaw wasn't the least bit surprised. She was… resigned. Not the timid apprentice nor the fierce warrior, but a resigned pile of fur and bones that had seen this coming from a mile away.

Mosswhisker had feared the Clan would fall apart. Now that she was seeing it play out? The dread was every bit as fresh as a still-beating heart, clinging to a life it knew it was losing. Now she knew how prey felt.

Spotting Rubyheart-Rubyheart of all cats-sitting across from her, Mosswhisker didn't even think.

"This is stupid! This is-it's mutiny! A Clan can't just change its leader! Rubyheart, don't tell me you'd rather listen to him?"

The red warrior bared her teeth but lacked her usual bite. "You're young and inexperienced. There's more at play than just our ranking system."

White, hot, blinding rage flooded her veins. "You…"

"Moss, don't," warned her mother.

"It's okay," said Glassclaw, voice hollow.

"You… You…"

Flameclaw and Windfang moved, but a gesture from Stainpelt halted them in their tracks.

Her muscles shook. Her breaths were hot as hellfire. Her eyes were murky. After everything that traitorous flea-pelt had done to her in the name of ranks… After everything she'd said to her and every apprentice in earshot… After running Mosswhisker ragged day in and day out for months… To stand here and give her that weird pleading look? Asking Mosswhisker to try and understand her side of things?

"…You can go to hell."

"Excuse you?"

"I'm not doing this anymore!" she cried, stepping out past the stiff Colony member's body to face her former leader. "Darkwood, I'm sorry. You were a great leader, but I've had enough."

She looked between him, Stainpelt, and Fallfur. "I'm leaving the Clan."

"What?"

"No! You can't!"

"But you were our brightest apprentice!"

Glassclaw's expression remained unchanged. Fallfur was taut with a storm of emotions, but when she looked into her kit's tired eyes, she silenced her objection. Darkwood stared at her, jaws agape. She told him it wasn't his fault.

This time, for the first time, she was fearless when Rubyheart accosted her. Stone-faced as she stared down who once ruled her life.

"You don't get to pick up and leave just because things don't go your way, kit! You don't understand. There's so much you don't understand, and I didn't teach you to disrespect your Clan like this! The shame you bring us, acting out like this! The absolute disgrace you're being! Clearly, you're not worthy of a warrior name, after all. Why don't you rejoin the apprentices for a few moons, and we'll see-"

"You did the best you could, Darkwood." Her voice was full of kindness and pity. "But Clan life isn't for me. I hope you can understand."

"Let her go," ordered Stainpelt when Rubyheart tried to stop her. "The Clan as it will be from now on doesn't need fair-weather warriors."

"Fallfur?" she demanded.

"She's a grown cat now," said the calico, fighting every instinct she had. "She can make her own decisions."

The silence was deafening as one of the Clan's best warriors crossed the threshold of their camp and disappeared into the night.