#arc3

At last, they cleared the trees, and by then Cinderpelt was hobbling along on her own. Fireheart didn’t need to tell her to do anything. Not that he could; he could barely breathe without coughing, and his eyes burned. He shut his eyes in the hope that it would go away.

When he opened them again, there was a cluster of his Clanmates before him. It looked about the same size as it was supposed to be. Fireheart coughed, relieved.

Mousefur was the first one to notice them. She jumped to her feet. “Fireheart and Cinderpelt are alive!”

The Clan immediately looked up. Several cats stood and met the pair as they walked to the group.

“Are you alright?”

“What happened?”

“Where’s Yellowfang?”

Fireheart thought he might have answered those questions. His mind was clouded, his throat choked by the bad air. He was dimly aware of a nod and a few sluggish steps. Even being out of reach of the fire, his instincts pummeled him from every angle and scattered his thoughts even more. He hardly knew what he was seeing.

At last, a voice cut through his confusion, though he couldn’t place who was speaking. “Let them be.”

His eyes cleared enough to see a white coat, and he felt himself being gently nudged to the side. He limply went along with the guiding gesture and sat down, but he wasn’t sure if he had been told to or if he just wanted to.

“Breathe,” said the voice, and he now recognized it as Whitecloud. “You’re safe now.”

Fireheart inhaled deeply and coughed. “Where- Cinderpelt-”

“She’s with her  family,” Whitecloud said soothingly.

Fireheart sagged with relief. Slowly, he breathed in and out, until the ache in his chest went away. As it did, his mind cleared, and he could now register Whitecloud in front of him.

“Did everyone make it?” he asked weakly.

Whitecloud nodded, but he added in a murmur, “Except Yellowfang.”

Fireheart gulped down air as a fresh breeze hit him. “She got trapped. She told me to go with Cinderpelt and escape.”

Whitecloud’s eyes lowered and shut. He sighed. “We’ll have a ceremony soon for her and Patchpelt.”

The simple mention of the elder jolted Fireheart. He stood up, ignoring the sudden wave of exhaustion that hit him. “Raventhroat and Greystripe-”

Whitecloud pointed his tail to a massive grey shape behind him. Fireheart got up and tottered past Whitecloud, still breathing slowly.

Greystripe must have heard his footsteps, because he turned around as Fireheart approached. He sighed with relief and bumped his head against Fireheart’s shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness.

Fireheart returned the gesture and eyed the shape of Raventhroat several body-lengths away. He was crouched over his grandfather.

“What happened?” Fireheart said.

Greystripe looked solemn. “Patchpelt was dead before we got here.”

Fireheart squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head.

“He asked for space,” Greystripe said. “So I’ve just been letting him grieve.” He lowered his voice and leaned in a little. “Did you see Yellowfang at all?”

Fireheart nodded. He could feel his energy being sapped with every movement he made, but he forced himself to recount the details to Greystripe.

When he finished, the big tabby seemed to shrink to half his size. He huddled a little and was silent for a moment.

After a pause, he said slowly, “StarClan will take care of her, at least. Her and Patchpelt.”

Fireheart nodded and kept his thoughts to himself.

The two of them looked back at Raventhroat, so caught up in their concern that they nearly missed Snowpaw trotting past them towards his mentor. The moment he noticed, Greystripe blocked Snowpaw’s path with his tail and shook his head when the apprentice looked up at him.

“He’s upset right now,” Greystripe signed. “Let’s not bother him.”

Snowpaw shuffled his feet and turned to Fireheart with a hopeful, worried look. Fireheart shook his head too. Snowpaw sighed under his breath, nodded, and slunk back the way he came.

Fireheart shut his eyes and opened them repeatedly, grateful for the vanishing of the burning sensation. “So everyone else is okay?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Greystripe looked to his right. “Scared, but alive. And I’ve never seen everyone so friendly with each other. Goldenflower was even talking with Darkstripe for a bit there. He carried Bramblekit for her and everything when we left camp.”

Fireheart followed Greystripe’s line of sight. The queens and kits were all sitting together, Goldenflower gently grooming the top of Brindleface’s head. Fireheart didn’t relax until he saw the tiny bundle of white fur at Brindleface’s belly.

So I don’t have to go back to Rosy with bad news, then, he thought.

A thought came to him. All at once, he was alert and clear-headed.

He turned to Greystripe, bristling. “You don’t think it got to the houses-”

Greystripe opened his mouth, lifted a paw, and slowly lowered it. He swallowed. “I can’t tell from here.”

Fireheart groaned and sank to his belly.

Greystripe looked very much like he wanted to say something comforting. He huddled by Fireheart, tail occasionally patting Fireheart’s side. Fireheart forced himself to breathe steadily and slowly. At a few points, he wasn’t sure if he was asleep or awake. Time moved at a crawl.

Then, just over the stink of smoke, a twitch of something airy and grassy wafted towards their noses. Fireheart raised his head and almost jumped out of his fur at the sight of a long-faced black tom staring down at him with a tilted head. Past him, among the crowd of ThunderClan cats, were more angular cats, speaking quietly with their larger neighbors or watching the fire.

Greystripe immediately stood up. “When did WindClan get here?”

“Just now,” the tom said. “We saw the fire and your Clan out here and came down to inspect.”

Fireheart’s eyes were drawn to the tom’s left front paw, which was almost twisted backwards. He was hardly standing on it.

“Who are you?” Fireheart asked.

“That’s WindClan’s deputy.”

All three of them looked over. Raventhroat had finally stepped away from his grandfather. His head was barely lifted enough to make eye contact, and his voice was hoarse. “Deadfoot, right?”

Deadfoot nodded. His pinned eyes slid over to the body behind them. “Not everyone made it out, I see.”

“Two of us are dead.” Greystripe sighed. “One in the fire, one out here.”

Deadfoot slowly turned his head, scanning the Clan. He hummed. “I don’t see your seer with you.”

“That’s the other one,” Fireheart murmured.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Deadfoot sounded entirely too calm, almost aloof, for the situation. “At the very least, your litters and queens made it out safe and sound.”

“Sir.” A striped brown tom trotted over. He was absurdly skinny. “Bluestar wants a word with you.”

Deadfoot waved his tail to the trio and limped away. The tom stayed where he was, clicked his teeth, and turned to Fireheart.

“I overheard that you lost Murkpelt,” he said.

“She went by Yellowfang,” Fireheart said.

“Yellowfang.” The tom corrected himself. “That’s a shame. I always admired her attitude.”

Fireheart couldn’t help but twitch his whiskers. “Legendary temper.”

The tom nodded. “I’ve seen you at Gatherings. Are you Fireheart? The kittypet?”

Fireheart wasn’t sure why this mattered now. “I am.”

“I’m Wrenwhisker,” the tom said. “And you two are...”

“Greystripe and Raventhroat,” Fireheart said, gesturing to them in order.

“Hi,” Greystripe said awkwardly.

Raventhroat said nothing.

Wrenwhisker didn’t seem to notice the uncomfortable air. “The smoke woke some of us up. Rookstar wanted to prepare an escape in case the fire came out here. Otherwise, he’d be talking with Bluestar personally.”

“Good to know,” Fireheart said.

Wrenwhisker peered over at Patchpelt’s body. “I’m not familiar with that cat. Who is he?”

“Patchpelt,” Raventhroat muttered. “My grandfather.”

“I see.” Wrenwhisker tilted his head. “He’s not burned, though. I suppose the smoke got to him? If not, how-”

“I’m sorry,” Raventhroat cut in sharply. “I’m not in the mood for questions.”

Wrenwhisker immediately stepped back and nodded. “Right. Apologies. I was just making conversation.”

“No one’s really ready for a pleasant conversation at this point,” Greystripe said. “We just lost our home and some of our Clanmates.”

“That was thoughtless of me,” Wrenwhisker admitted. “I won’t bother you further. I’ll head back to my patrol.”

Something occurred to Fireheart. He stood up. “I’ll come with you.”

Wrenwhisker blinked, but he didn’t protest. Fireheart walked with him, waiting until they were a small distance away from his friends to stop.

“Did you see the fire on the hill?” he asked. “You can see the whole forest there, right?”

Wrenwhisker nodded.

Fireheart’s throat tensed. “Did you...happen to... is... is the fire...are the houses burning?”

Evidently, Wrenwhisker did not expect this question. He took a moment to respond. “Not that I could see, no. It seems to be on the edge of the woods and in the center, but not near the houses.”

A long, heavy breath escaped Fireheart in the form of a relieved sigh. “Good. Thank you.”

Wrenwhisker tilted his head. “Why do you ask?”

Fireheart debated for a moment whether to tell him the truth. He didn’t get a chance to give his answer before Deadfoot called Wrenwhisker over. The lithe tom nodded to Fireheart and padded back to his deputy, who was standing in the middle of the refugees’ circle. Bluestar, beside him, shouted for her Clan’s attention.

“WindClan patrols will be back tonight,” she said. She coughed, shook her head, and continued. “This will be a peaceful meeting between leaders. Until then, I don’t want anyone going anywhere. Stay close to your Clanmates and try to get some rest. A WindClan cat will be watching the fire from their hill. Understood?”

There was a general, tired murmur of agreement.

Bluestar’s eyes were clouded. She turned to Deadfoot and said something quietly. Deadfoot muttered something back and took his large patrol the way they came. The Clan hardly seemed to notice them going; no one said goodbye or waved them off. ThunderClan just clustered together and sat in silence.

She was unceremoniously flung into the far cliff wall of the chasm. She felt her ribs break, like she was a carton of eggs that had been slammed against a steel door. A minor cut on her ear buzzed with a prominent stinging sensation. Her nose bled from the sheer speed at which she had flown.

Pikachu were not built for this.

Nema barked with pain as she slid down the rock and landed in the blue-ish grass. She couldn't move. All she could do was groan as her body repeatedly spasmed involuntarily, causing more bursts of needle sharp pain.

Her nose was plugged with blood and mucus. Her throat dried out. Her ears felt stuffed with cotton. The only sense of hers that seemed to stay sharp were her eyes.

It took Nema a few minutes to notice she was lying on her back. With a huff and a creak from her midsection, she found just enough energy to roll herself onto her belly. The flop sent her into a coughing fit.

When her eyes focused again, all she could see was a gaping hole where the once small cave entrance was. She had just passed through it earlier...

Ominous bright pink mist swirled steadily from the cave. The Wishing Star had burst open from the pressure, and was now releasing Dynamax energy into the air.

Nema tried to think. Think of anything. But her skull was full of static fuzz. She had thoughts, but they certainly weren't coherent.

Marigold. Marigold... she could really use her girlfriend right about now.

Right. They were back in Undella Town. He could probably see the explosion from where she's at.

...Where was she?

Oh. Yeah.

Kappa. Kappa!

Where was Kappa!? Jean!?

Nema, as quickly as she could, scanned the surrounding area, her vision and thoughts rapidly becoming clearer.

[Nema]

'Shit, fuck fuck- I can't see them anywhere! Are they still in the cave!?' She thought in a panic.

'If only I could move! Kappa!! KAPPA!!'

She felt it before she heard it.

It reverberated through the ground and into her skin. The grass did nothing to muffle it in all its intensity.

Nema could see it. A massive figure, cloaked in red, striding slowly towards her. Bigger than anything she had ever seen. Bigger than even the three dragons she had been standing next to just moments ago. Where were they?

The mist turned from a hot pink, to an eye searing crimson. It rolled sluggishly around the legs of the beast in front of her, as if rolling out a red carpet.

Slowly, the creature came into view.

A massive, hulking thing, with fur a deep indigo hauled itself forward. Various parts of its body were covered in nigh pristine pieces of glittering yellow armor. Its tail fanned out behind it like a cape as it trudged along. In its claws were two rectangular swords, which it seemed to currently be using as crutches to hold up its unweildy body.

Its mouth opened in a strained exhale, letting more of the crimson mist pour out of its body like drool.

It was horrifying.

Nema somehow found the ability to push herself up to her knees. She couldn't take her eyes off of the monster's mouth. She felt sick.

[Nema]

"What..?"

The word felt like chalk in her mouth. Images- memories, of the past two days flickered in and out of her head like fireflies.

Nema knew who this was before her.

She knew that this had happened. And she did nothing to stop it from happening again.

The mist in front of her thinned. And a large head pushed through it.

[G. Max Kappa]

"HHHhhhhhh..."

[Kappa has Gigantamaxed!]