#boldmoth

After a long period of quiet stillness, a cat appeared on his left - Bluffpaw, Orangestar’s apprentice. 

“Move to the back of the barn, a clearing’s length away,” he whispered, “Stay down wind.” He slipped past Barleybee and repeated the message, proceeding down the frontline until his spotty ginger and white pelt disappeared into the dry grass. 

Floodstrike nodded to Sparrowsway, who returned the look, then twitched his tail for the cat behind him and started off towards the back of the ‘barn’. When they reached about a clearing’s worth of distance from the wooden structure, Floodstrike perked his ears and tasted the air carefully. The barn smelled of hay and old wood and various city cats and other animals. Closer by, he could smell Goldenstar, Orangestar, and one of the city cats he had met before, Schmidt’s brother if he remembered right. 

He glanced around quickly, decided that the barn was providing enough cover, and bounded in their direction. Sparrowsway hissed softly at him but he ignored his brother’s warning. As their scents grew closer, he slowed to a stealthy pace again and ended up coming up between Goldenstar and Orangestar, interrupting the conversation.  

“Floodstrike,” Goldenstar gasped softly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he twitched an ear to dismiss her concern. “What’s the plan?” Goldenstar’s brow furrowed darkly.

“We’re just waitin’ on Sardine,” said the ginger kittypet. “Once he enters the barn, the cat up there will give y'all the signal and you’ll swing the trap shut.” He lifted his tail slightly to indicate a framed hole in the wall near the top of the building with a white furred kittypet sitting in it. The cat looked down and twitched their tail slightly in acknowledgement. 

“Floodstrike, go back to your position,” Goldenstar said sternly. 

“I want to be at the front of the push with you,” Floodstrike stated, ignoring her order. 

“Floodstrike, this is not up for debate,” she said more aggressively, her tail starting to arch behind her. “Go back to your position and wait for the signal.” 

“I deserve to get justice for my apprentice,” he snapped back. The kittypet’s gaze softened sympathetically. Orangestar looked deeply uncomfortable.

“You will,” Goldenstar hissed, rising up on her toes in a threatening display she had never used on him before, “but right now you will go back to your position and follow orders. This is not the time for a tantrum.” The words struck him sharply, along with the furious posture she had turned on him, and he wilted under it, all his determination dissipating like scattered leaves. 

“Right.” He swallowed, unsure how to feel. “Sorry, Goldenstar.” He saw a flicker of guilt cross her face but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Floodstrike turned tail and slank back towards the others. 

Softly, Orangestar cleared her throat and said, “Wes, you were saying?” 

When Floodstrike returned to his position, Sparrowsway was glaring at him. “What was that?” He hissed under his breath.

“Something stupid,” Floodstrike grumbled. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” scoffed his brother.

“Leave him alone,” he read Barleybee’s lips more than he heard her voice. “You know this is hard for him.” 

“Can we all just shut up and focus?” he said a bit louder than he meant to. 

The waiting was unbearable. Floodstrike looked up at the waxing moon and tried to catch it moving across the sky. Was it closer to the roof now than it was before? The stars laid muted under the glowing light from the city. He wondered if Lakepaw was watching him. He wondered if she was embarrassed to be his apprentice. 

His paws were cold. His inner ears ached from the dry chill in the air. He shook out his paws and kneaded loose clods of dirt with his claws to try and keep some feeling in his toes. When was that kittypet in the barn going to give them the signal?

After a while, Goldenstar slank out of the grass and approached him. “Floodstrike, we need to talk,” she said in hushed tones. 

“Okay,” he swallowed. 

Goldenstar glanced at the cats on either side of him before stepping in closer. “Look, I’m sorry I was so aggressive earlier. This is serious and I can’t have my warriors undermining me right now. We both know I let you get away with a lot of stuff and I need to stop doing that. You’re not my apprentice anymore, you’re a full warrior, and I need to treat you like one. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” he nodded sullenly. “I shouldn’t have come over in the first place. I just wanted to know what was going on.” 

“I know,” sighed Goldenstar. “Wes says Sardine is supposedly on his way so it shouldn’t be long. Just have patience.” And with that, she slipped away, farther along the line. Floodstrike grit his teeth in frustration but held his tongue. 

The time stretched on even longer. Messengers came through and told everyone to watch for the signal: a raised tail from the white cat in the barn window. Then they waited. It felt like forever as the night dragged slowly towards morning, the moon rising even higher above them. 

Then, there it was, a lift of the cat’s tail. Floodstrike leapt into action, darting swiftly but quietly forward and around the side of the barn towards the big entryway on the front. This was it, he thought, his heart starting to pound.

Inside, he could hear voices. The first was mocking but put together. “... really, Rudy, I’m hurt that you didn’t invite me to your little shindig. I had to hear about it through a friend of a friend.”

“Who’s that?” This voice was gruffer and deeper in, more muffled by the straw. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t kiss and tell,” said the first voice. “But they were very eager to sell you out, I’m afraid. It’s a shame, really. I was hoping our little game would be a little more interesting than this but it seems we’ve reached the end.” 

The second voice laughed. “Yeah, I bet you were hoping that.” Floodstrike’s speed had gotten him to the front of the barn faster than the rest of the front lines and he slowed down to wait for the others. 

The first voice said condescendingly, “You don’t seem to be understanding how the end is going to play out, Rudy. What, you think you can win this?” 

“Sure do,” said the second voice - Rudy. “I could beat you and your squad of little girls with my paws in boots.”

“Hah!” the first voice laughed. “I’d genuinely like to see you try, that sounds hilarious.” Russetfrond, Coyotechaser, Songdust, and Bogmist emerged from the grass beside Floodstrike and he nodded to them, letting Russetfrond take the lead as they rounded the corner. He didn’t want to disappoint Goldenstar by rushing things and ruining the ambush. 

Still, he was quick on the deputies’ heels, claws itching to see use. As they came around the corner, he spotted two loose groups of cats, one sitting in different positions around the barn, the other clustered near the entrance as if they had just entered. Near the back of that group were several toms with notched ears, all craning their necks to see what was going on. He recognized one of them by his scarred, sable pelt and his blood started to boil inside his veins. 

One of the chaff cats had his mouth open to scent the barn and he whipped around, suddenly able to taste the Clan cats on the wind. “Oh, shit!” Russetfrond collided with him and chaos broke over the crowd. 

“Savages!” went up the cry. 

“Seal off the exits!” shouted Coyotechaser, “Nobody gets out!” 

Several of the warriors took up positions in the entrance but Floodstrike had his eyes on Van Pelt. He lunged and slammed into the rogue claws first, tearing a nasty wound open over his shoulder. The rogue spat furiously and batted sharply at his head before they broke away and started to circle. The barn was filled with caterwauling and cats shouting to each other. 

Van Pelt laughed and declared, “Damn, kid! You turned into quite the beanpole!” He darted in to give Floodstrike a gash on his nose. “Never grew into your ears though.”

“I’m not some helpless apprentice anymore,” snarled Floodstrike as he tackled the rogue to the ground. 

“You fight like one!” laughed Van Pelt with a series of rabbit kicks. One caught Floodstrike hard in the gut and he tumbled away. Managing to roll to his feet, he just barely managed to leap out of the way of Van Pelt’s claws. He danced backward a few paces, then darted back in to swipe at his opponent's face, then turned to follow as Van Pelt twisted out of the way and went for his hind quarters. Floodstrike ducked low against the straw and waggled his hips before leaping, once again tackling Van Pelt to the ground. 

Together, they tumbled in a hissing, spitting clump of claws and teeth until Floodstrike’s back hit a metal shelf on the edge of the room hard and he cried out in pain. Van Pelt laughed his cruel, grating laugh and pressed his advantage, managing to score a deep cut on his soft belly. Floodstrike snarled and kicked the rogue hard in the face, rattling the metal things on the shelf with the force of it. Van Pelt stumbled back, cursing under his breath, and Floodstrike rolled off of the shelf and into a defensive crouch. 

“You brat!” Van Pelt spat, running a paw over his eye a few times. 

“Told you,” shrugged Floodstrike smugly. 

“You’re right,” Van Pelt’s eyes darted over the room beside them, “it’s just not as fun now that you’re all grown up.” He lunged to the side and Floodstrike braced himself in confusion, waiting for the lunge to turn into a feint but it didn’t. Too late, he saw what Van Pelt had been looking for. The rogue slammed into an unsuspecting Erminepaw, sinking his teeth into the apprentice as he took her to the ground. 

Floodstrike yowled, fear and anger erupting within him, and he dove after Van Pelt. His teeth found the rogue’s tail and he tugged sharply on it, allowing Erminepaw to squirm out of his claws. Van Pelt laughed and turned to swipe at Floodstrike only to spin and slash his claws across the apprentice’s side again as soon as Floodstrike let him go. 

“Leave them alone!” Floodstrike roared, rearing up to smack him roughly about the ears. 

“Touched a nerve, did I?” cackled the rogue, batting his paws out of the way. Erminepaw hesitated in their readied stance, glancing between Floodstrike and his opponent and where Boldmoth was struggling against a pair of her own rogues. 

“Go with her,” Floodstrike told her, “I’ve got this one.”

“Do you?” taunted Van Pelt. Erminepaw nodded regardless and leapt for the other fight. Van Pelt tried to snag her with his claws but Floodstrike swung a paw out and struck him in the front of the throat, stopping him dead in his tracks as he gagged and gasped for air. 

“Yeah, I think I do,” smirked Floodstrike, pressing his advantage to throw the rogue off balance and strike at his underbelly. “You think you’re so tough but you’re just a pathetic little bully!”

“Look who’s talking,” Van Pelt wheezed. Above them, the metal things on the shelf rattled violently as Boldmoth jumped and kicked off of it to land on top of one of her opponents and a set of big cylinders crashed to the ground with a hollow clang, nearly hitting Floodstrike in the head. He managed to twist out of the way, only to look up and see that Van Pelt was on his feet, leaping through the gap in the shelf to press against the wall. 

“You can’t get out that way,” Floodstrike growled, moving to block the edge where the shelf met the wall but Van Pelt just sneered at him. 

“Who says I'm running?” he said, rearing up to give the shelf a shove from behind. It wobbled and tipped, showering more metal cylinders on the cats fighting below. Erminepaw backed up against the shelf to avoid them and Floodstrike’s stomach twisted as an image of her crushed beneath its weight flashed into his mind. He sprang through the shelving and grabbed their scruff in his teeth, barreling out the other side into a bank of straw and dust. Behind him there was a mighty clatter and a cat screamed in pain. 

“Boldmoth!” cried Erminepaw. Floodstrike’s throat tightened. He wheeled around and there was Boldmoth, her back leg pinned beneath a red metal box. Beside her, a kittypet lay wheezing under the bulk of the shelf, his chest deformed from the impact. The other rogue Boldmoth had been fighting was trying to get him out to no success. Van Pelt was gone. 

“Fox dung,” Floodstrike hissed, hopping up over the shelf into the gap where Boldmoth was pinned. “Just hang on, Boldmoth, we’ll get you out.”

“It’s definitely broken,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Help me push!” said Erminepaw, putting their paws up against the box. Floodstrike joined her and together they heaved against its side. The box was heavier than expected and Boldmoth cried out again, her tail bristling from the pain.

“Maybe we should wait for the healers,” Erminepaw swallowed. “We could mess it up more if we’re not careful!”

“No,” Boldmoth gasped, hunched over with her eyes shut tight. “I’m a sitting duck here. We don’t have time to wait.”

“One more shove should do it,” said Floodstrike. “Three, two, one-!” They heaved again, and with a loud ker-thunk! the box toppled over and off of Boldmoth’s crumpled leg. Floodstrike pressed up against her bad side and heaved her to her feet with his shoulder. “Easy… there we go. Come on.”

“Erminepaw can escort me,” she said, sounding strained, “you get back to the fight.”

“You’re sure?” he asked.

The RisingClan cats - her, Slatepaw, Floodpaw, Pantherhaze, Scorchplume, Goldenstar, Russetfrond, and Sagetooth - emerged from the trees into the clearing. Fogpaw made an awe-filled sound of wonder at the sight of the Cornerstones towering up ahead. A white she-cat and a ginger one were sitting on top, bathed in moonlight, their deputies conversing on the rubble beneath them. Goldenstar whispered something to Scorchplume and then went to join them. 

Floodpaw was moving to meet a group of cats who looked close to his age and Fogpaw decided to follow him. Slatepaw followed her, both of them trailing after Floodpaw like ducklets. 

“Have fun and be respectful!” Pantherhaze called after them.

“We will!” squeaked Slatepaw. 

“Hey!” A pale, spotted tabby looked up as Floodpaw approached. “Floodpaw, how’s it going?”

“Great,” purred Floodpaw, “We’ve got some big news tonight. I’m excited for you to hear it.” 

“Ooh, well now I’m invested,” he grinned. 

“You’ve got some kittens stuck to your fur,” said a white she-cat with a ginger striped tail. The ginger cat wearing moth wings next to her smiled in a way that struck Fogpaw as mysterious.

“Oh,” Floodpaw turned to look at them and grimaced a little. “Right, uh, this is Fogpaw and Slatepaw.”

“Hi!” Fogpaw grinned. Slatepaw pressed into her side nervously. 

Floodpaw continued, “Uh, guys, these are my friends.” The white cat huffed a mean laugh. “Boldmoth and Fishtrick are from EarthClan and Fernpaw is from SkyClan.” 

“It’s Fernspeckle now!” beamed the spotted tabby. 

“Aw, really?” frowned Floodpaw. “I mean, congrats, but I was sure I was gonna get my name before you!” 

“Having a leader as your mother has its perks,” Fernspeckle laughed. 

“An admission you graduated before you were ready,” Fishtrick hummed. 

“You’ll get your name soon,” Boldmoth said, looking at Floodpaw. 

“Thanks,” he blushed under her cool, golden gaze.  

“Your mom is the leader?” Fogpaw asked loudly. Floodpaw and his friends all winced. 

“Yeah,” said Fernspeckle, “Snowstar’s my mother.” 

“That’s so cool,” Fogpaw said seriously. “My mom’s dead.” Fernspeckle froze in surprise. Fishtrick raised a brow skeptically. Boldmoth frowned sympathetically.

“Hey, uh,” Floodpaw said quickly, “Look, there’s an apprentice your age, why don’t you guys go talk to him?” FallenClan had arrived and Fogpaw followed Floodpaw’s gaze to a pale ginger tom who looked just a little bit older than her and Slatepaw settling down beside a warrior with brown points. 

“Oh, okay,” she said, wilting a little. She couldn’t help but feel like Floodpaw didn’t want her around. Still, she was interested in making a new friend so she looked at Slatepaw and said, “Come on, let’s go say hi!” Slatepaw gave a worried noise through pursed lips and glanced over at Floodpaw’s friends before nodding. Fogpaw started to make her way through the crowd, Slatepaw pressed against her side.

Behind her, she heard Floodpaw say, “Yikes, sorry about that, guys.” She sighed a little. 

“Fogpaw, why did you say that?” Slatepaw asked quietly. 

“Huh?” she asked, looking over. “Say what?” 

“You know,” Slatepaw chewed her lip worriedly. “About mama.” 

“Oh,” Fogpaw shrugged. She had already forgotten about that. “Cause it’s true?” 

“Right,” Slatepaw said softly. Fogpaw frowned, confused. Shaking her head, she decided to ignore it and focus on meeting this new apprentice. 

As they drew close, she raised her tail and said, “Hi there! I’m Fogpaw and this is my sister Slatepaw! What’s your name?” The apprentice looked over at her apprehensively. 

Beside him, his mentor smiled and said, “I’m Duskstep and this is Lionpaw. We’re from FallenClan.” He nudged Lionpaw’s leg gently.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Lionpaw, barely audible but in a listless way, not like Slatepaw’s nervous whispering. It was like he didn’t have the energy to speak any louder. Fogpaw immediately decided that he seemed extremely boring. She glanced back over to where Floodpaw was joking with his friends and wished she could just go back and hang out with them. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” smiled Slatepaw as they sat down. “Do you know Poppybird?”

“Yes,” purred Duskstep, “she’s our Clan’s mediator.” 

“She was friends with our mama,” Slatepaw said. “She comes and visits us sometimes.” 

“That’s nice,” said Duskstep. 

“She mentioned you,” said Slatepaw, looking at Lionpaw. He sat up a little straighter and blinked at her. Fogpaw yawned. 

“She did?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Slatepaw said. “We asked her about the kits in FallenClan and she talked about you.” Fogpaw groaned and stood to go find someone else to sit with. She wasn’t going to stay here and listen to boring small talk all gathering. 

“W- Fogpaw, where are you going?” asked Slatepaw. 

“I dunno,” Fogpaw shrugged, “to find Scorchplume or something.” 

“Oh, okay…” Slatepaw frowned. Fogpaw wasn’t sure why she was upset but it annoyed her. Huffling she turned and stomped away. 

The meeting was packed. Fogpaw hadn’t seen this many cats since they had gathered in camp for the big battle. The noise of it made her hackles prickle unconsciously. She reared onto her hind legs to try and spot her mentor’s bright ginger pelt. It was difficult with the height of the other cats. She padded a bit to the side to try and find a better vantage point, then someone right next to her spoke, throwing her off guard.

“Oh! Look at that!” said a she-cat nearby. Fogpaw looked on instinct and realized the grey tabby was looking right at her. 

“Uh…” She glanced around to make sure there wasn’t something else the cat could be looking at. 

“I know that pelt,” continued the cat. “You look just like the old tom Snowstar was fighting in the snowstorm battle!”

“Really?” asked the brown tabby next to her. This one narrowed her eyes at Fogpaw, making her want to squirm. “One of the rogues?” 

“Yes, exactly,” said the first cat. “Hello there, kit, what’s your name?” Fogpaw swallowed. At least they were talking to her now instead of about her. 

“Fogpaw,” she said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Greyvoice,” said the first cat with a smile, “and this is Perchingcall. Please, why don’t you come sit with us?” 

“Um, okay,” said Fogpaw. The idea that two grown ups wanted her to sit with them was exciting. Smiling, she settled down near them. 

Greyvoice scooted closer to her and said, “This is your first gathering, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” nodded Fogpaw. “I got apprenticed last week!”

“That’s so exciting,” purred Greyvoice, attentive and warm. Perchingcall smiled too but it didn’t feel right to Fogpaw. “You’re, um, Smokyrose’s kit, right?” 

“Yeah,” Fogpaw nodded again. 

“Such a shame about her, by the way,” Greyvoice frowned briefly. “I hope you’re doing alright.” 

“I’m fine,” said Fogpaw. Her tail tip twitched a bit - she hated when cats pitied her - but Greyvoice moved on quickly so she let it go.

“I’m so curious though,” said Greyvoice, “I mean, I’ve only heard rumors, so I have to ask: Is it true your father is the rogues’ deputy?” 

“Um,” Fogpaw screwed her mouth to the side as she thought. “I think so. His name’s Ghost. He’s the reason our mom is dead.” Or something like that. No one would tell her for certain what had happened. She had been forced to glean a few details from overheard conversations. 

Greyvoice and Perchingcall at least didn’t get those weird, surprised expressions on their faces like Floodpaw's friends had. Perchingcall frowned like she wanted to tear Ghost’s pelt and Greyvoice let out a soft little noise of sympathy.

“That’s terrible,” said Greyvoice. “What do you mean, he’s the reason why? I only heard that she had died, I didn’t hear what happened.” 

“And you won’t,” said Scorchplume, appearing suddenly behind Fogpaw. Her sharp blue eyes were narrowed at Greyvoice as she said, “Fogpaw get up. You’re going to come sit with me.” 

“But-” Fogpaw bristled in protest, “But I was just making friends!” 

“We don’t make friends with other Clans,” Scorchplume scowled, still not looking at her. “A warrior should know better.” Her words felt pointed at Greyvoice, just as sharp as her eyes. Fogpaw frowned and got to her feet. 

“Fine,” she grumbled. Maybe her spell had been wrong and Scorchplume wasn’t a good mentor. 

Greyvoice preened her chest a bit and said, “Well I’m fine considering us friends, Fogpaw. Maybe I’ll see you some other time.” 

Scorchplume growled a warning. “Stay away from my apprentice, Greyvoice.” The warrior in question huffed irritably but made no further comments. Scorchplume nudged Fogpaw towards the back of the crowd, saying, “That way.” 

“I’m going!” Fogpaw griped, stomping off. When they were nearing the back of the crowd, she added, “What was that for? I thought Russetfrond was the one who’s all ‘don’t talk to anybody ever!’” She bobbled her head and deepened her voice as she imitated him. 

Scorchplume flicked her tail and wrapped it around Fogpaw to urge her to sit. “Oh, I don’t care about talking to other Clans,” she said, and Fogpaw’s mouth fell open in confusion.

“Then, what-”

“Greyvoice was taking advantage of you,” said Scorchplume simply. “She doesn’t actually want to be your friend, she just wants to know the gossip about your father.” 

“Wait, really?” Fogpaw’s ears slid back against her head. She hadn’t been able to tell at all. Her stomach turned into a heavy, nauseous lump.

“Mhm,” said Scorchplume, glancing sideways at her. “I’m not going to let someone like that take advantage of my apprentice.” Her voice caught in her throat on the word, a growl that made Fogpaw feel like Scorchplume would fight a lion for her.

“But, then, why did you lie?” asked Fogpaw. 

Scorchplume glanced around as if making sure no one could hear before she said softly, “It’s better if I let her think I haven’t noticed what she actually wants. That way, she underestimates me. That way, I have the advantage next time we meet.” Fogpaw’s eyes were as wide and round as the moon. “So I got you out without tipping her off. I hope I wasn’t too harsh.”

“No, that’s amazing!” Fogpaw breathed. “It’s like magic! You have to teach me!” 

Scorchplume’s eyes flickered over her again, a tiny smile poking at the corners of her mouth. “It would be my pleasure,” she said. Fogpaw grinned, kneading the dirt with her paws. The spell had definitely worked. 

“Where do we start?” she asked. 

“Well-”

Snowstar’s voice boomed over the crowd. “Alright! I think it’s about time we got started!” The assembled cats hushed each other and fell quiet. 

“The first step,” Scorchplume spoke quickly and quietly, like she was giving Fogpaw an urgent secret, “is to figure out what cats want. Once you master that, you can start using it to your advantage.”

“Got it,” Fogpaw whispered back. 

“As a bit of good news to start off with,” Snowstar continued, “SkyClan welcomes a new warrior, the first of the kits to have survived Red Gut! Fernspeckle has shown himself to be a cat with a quick tongue and a quicker wit and we are beyond proud to have him among our ranks!” 

“She’s Fernspeckle’s mom,” Fogpaw whispered to Scorchplume.

Scorchplume raised a brow in interest. “Good to know.” 

When the crowd finished chanting Fernspeckle’s name, Snowstar said, “As well, Newleaf has been kind to us. Prey is flowing well and we are happy to continue sharing with our less fortunate neighbors if need be.” 

“What does Snowstar want?” Scorchplume whispered to Fogpaw. 

“Um… I don’t know.” Fogpaw shrugged. How was she supposed to be able to tell from that?

“She wants to be seen as strong and generous,” answered Scorchplume. “See the way she’s offering to help us like it makes her special? Sometimes what a cat wants is to look a certain way to other people. Remember that.” Fogpaw hummed as she nodded. This was harder than she had expected. 

“It’s most appreciated,” Orangestar said, voice wobbling tiredly. 

“Yes,” Goldenstar agreed, much firmer, “but RisingClan would like to be self-sufficient again as soon as possible. It is in that vein that I would like to propose another alliance, like the one we made for the battle of the snowstorm.” 

“Has there been another prophecy?” Snowstar asked. 

“No,” Goldenstar said, “but we have a plan.” She stood and raised her tail confidently and none of the other leaders tried to interrupt her so she continued. “It has recently come to my attention that Razor, the leader of the rogues, is interested in a one on one meeting with me. This meeting will almost certainly be a trap in which he intends to kill me, who he believes to be the Clans’ only leader. We will give him this meeting but we will spring a trap of our own instead!” 

RisingClan’s warriors and a few other Clan cats cheered in response. Scorchplume stayed silent so Fogpaw did the same. 

“And you need our help to do so,” said Flightstar as if he’d caught her trying to sneak it past him. 

“Yes,” said Goldenstar. “RisingClan alone won’t be able to stand against Razor but together we will most definitely be able to overpower him and put an end to this war.” 

“Then SkyClan will be there,” said Snowstar. “We would see this conflict put to rest for the good of every Clan.” 

“FallenClan as well,” said Flightstar with a twitch of his ear. “Where there’s a fight to be fought you will find the warriors of the deep woods.” A few FallenClan cats crowed proudly. 

“What does Flightstar want?” Scorchplume whispered again. 

“Um… is it to look a certain way?” asked Fogpaw.

“Mhm.” 

“Um… He wants to look brave?” 

“Good,” purred Scorchplume. “He wants to look brave and strong and to tell everyone that they couldn’t beat him if they tried.” 

“Huh,” Fogpaw squinted up at him. That made sense, she thought. 

“What about EarthClan?” Goldenstar asked, looking at Orangestar. “We were hoping to use the edge of your forest for the meeting spot, to help hide our warriors and provide a terrain advantage.” 

Orangestar shifted and nodded. “Yes. EarthClan will stand by you. StarClan willing, this is the final battle of this war.” 

“StarClan willing,” nodded Snowstar. 

“Excellent,” Goldenstar said. “I will reach out to you to pick the location of the ambush. After that, I’ll send for a meeting with the leaders and things will be put into motion.” She shifted her posture to something a little more open and said, “In other news, we have two new apprentices with us today, Fogpaw and Slatepaw.” 

Fogpaw jumped to her feet and stood up tall so everyone could see her. A few cats tossed glances her way. She noticed Greyvoice among them. Scorchplume’s tail swished over her back, urging her to sit, and she did. The meeting moved on. The other Clans had very little news to share and soon after, RisingClan was heading home. 

“Thanks for teaching me,” Fogpaw said as she padded with Scorchplume to join the others.

“It’s my job isn’t it?” asked her mentor.

“Yeah, but I don’t think this is part of normal warrior stuff. I knew you were special.” 

Barleypaw was staying behind, as expected, but she had specifically asked to stay and protect Smokyrose and the kittens. 

“You won’t need to,” Floodpaw had said, “We’re going to beat the rogues, easy. The prophecy said so.” 

“It never hurts to be safe,” Yarrowshade had said. 

Floodpaw wasn’t sure how much he agreed with that but he’d forgotten about it easily enough when the other Clans started gathering in their camp. EarthClan was first. Floodpaw scrambled out of the apprentices’ den when he heard them. Orangestar and Darkmoon were there, along with three warriors he had met before on patrols. He also spotted Fishpaw and Boldpaw among the crowd and he hurried across the clearing to talk with them. Fishpaw wasn’t interested in conversation but Boldpaw sat and humored him which made Floodpaw swell with pride. 

Shortly after, FallenClan arrived with Flightstar, his deputy Pigeoncover, and three other warriors. Flightstar immediately ducked into Goldenstar’s den to talk with the other leaders but unlike the EarthClan cats, FallenClan didn’t mingle at all with RisingClan’s warriors. Floodpaw frowned. 

“Can you believe they almost didn’t show up?” he asked Boldpaw. 

Fishpaw looked over and said, “I can. FallenClan are a bunch of heartless snakes.” 

“They are?” he asked, squinting at the cluster of cats, two of which looked very similar to himself. 

“Flightstar at least is bad news,” Boldpaw said. “Darkmoon says the patrols have only gotten more standoffish since he took over.” 

“Huh,” Floodpaw said. He used to think that Flightstar was a strong and admirable warrior but now he wasn’t sure. What was a warrior without concern for others? Even he knew how important that was! 

Soon after, Snowstar, Tangletooth, Coyotechaser, and four other SkyClan warriors arrived along with Fernpaw who bounded over when Floodpaw waved at him. 

“Hey!” he grinned, joining them. “You guys ready to tear some rogue pelts?” 

“Definitely!” Floodpaw nodded, kneading the ground with his claws. 

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Boldpaw said. “Everyone’s here.”

“Who all from RisingClan is coming?” asked Fernpaw, looking around.

“Um,” Floodpaw tried to remember. “Me, Sparrowpaw… Goldenstar and Russetfrond, of course, and then Ospreymask, Branchbark, and I think Pantherhaze?” 

“Okay, not bad,” Fernpaw said, looking around.

“So everyone is bringing more warriors than FallenClan, then,” Fishpaw scoffed. 

“I heard they’re the smallest Clan there is,” Fernpaw said. “They don’t even have any apprentices or anything.” 

Floodpaw flicked an ear dismissively. “Who cares,” he said, “We’re all going to battle together! I can’t wait.” They didn’t have to wait long, which was a good thing, given the snow. After a few more minutes, the leaders emerged and Goldenstar jumped onto the Stoneperch to call a meeting. 

“Warriors!” she cried, and everyone fell silent. “We’re finally ready to drive these city rogues from our territory once and for all!” The cats cheered and Floodpaw joined in as loudly as he could. The energy was intoxicating, all of their bodies gathered in the little camp, hearts beating in time, their purpose aligned. He felt like a part of something bigger than himself and it was amazing. 

Goldenstar continued, “StarClan is with us today and our victory has been foreseen! All we need to do is follow through. Thank you all for joining us in this endeavor. It would not be possible without you and for that Orangestar and I are grateful.” Flightstar and Snowstar puffed up a little, looking proud of themselves, although Flightstar was the only one wearing a smirk. 

“Here’s the plan:” said Goldenstar. “We attack in two waves. The first wave will be led by Snowstar and made up of cats with pale coats. We’ll call them the Stoat Group. They’ll blend into the snow and advance stealthily, making way for the rest of us to follow. The second group, who we’ll call Eagle Group, will follow in their pawsteps about four fox-lengths behind.”

Snowstar lifted her voice and said, “Stoat Group will make the first approach, assess the rogue camp, and then attack. Once Eagle Group hears signs of combat, they’ll move in as well.”

Goldenstar nodded, looking a little perturbed. “Stoat Group will be Snowstar, Charredbranch, Pebblefall, Fernpaw, Bogmist, Fishpaw, Pigeoncover, Tumblefang, and Floodpaw.” Floodpaw gasped. He was going to be a part of the first attack? And without anyone else from RisingClan with him? He couldn’t believe it. “Everyone else, you’re with Eagle Group. Are there any questions?” 

No one spoke up, instead looking around to identify the cats they would be fighting side by side with. Floodpaw bumped shoulders with Fernpaw excitedly and Fernpaw grinned back. 

“Alright then,” said Flightstar, standing up. “Let’s form up and move out. Good hunting!” A few of the cats cheered but Floodpaw noticed Goldenstar frown. 

“I’m gonna check in with my mentor,” he said, “and then I’ll be right back, okay?” 

“Okay!” Fernpaw nodded. Floodpaw jumped up and bounded over to the food of the Stoneperch just as Goldenstar jumped down. 

“Hey,” he said, “Thanks for letting me go with Stoat Group!” 

Goldenstar looked down at him and a smile spread over her worried expression. “They need all the cats they can get and you’ve got the right coloring,” she said. “Just be careful. Stay close to the other warriors and don’t let the rogues overwhelm you. We’ll be right behind you but there’s probably going to be a good few seconds where you’re outnumbered.” 

“Got it,” he said, nodding. “I’ll see you there then.” 

“Good luck, kid,” Goldenstar purred, butting her head against his. He pressed up into her touch and then turned to go find Stoat Group. Before he got too far, he ran into Sparrowpaw. 

“Hey,” Sparrowpaw said, stepping in front of him, “Be safe out there, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Floodpaw said, “you too.” 

Sparrowpaw smiled. “Will do.” Floodpaw rubbed up against his brother fondly, then hurried towards Stoat Group. Luckily, nothing else got in his way and soon enough he was standing in a circle of mostly white cats, belly deep in the snow. It was almost surreal. He didn’t think he’d seen this many cats like him in one place all his life. 

“Alright,” said Snowstar, as he and Bogmist joined the huddle, “that’s everyone. Let’s move out. Stay within sight of at least two other cats at all times. Once we get there, watch me for the signal to attack, understood?”

“Affirmative,” said Pigeoncover with an obedient nod. Most of the others nodded or voiced agreement. Floodpaw puffed his chest up and nodded. What an honor to be among such a capable group of warriors!

“Good,” said Snowstar. “May StarClan guide our claws!” She looked across the camp to Goldenstar and the others and made eye contact before nodding and heading up the slope and into the thicker snow. 

“Good luck!” Floodpaw heard Oddstripe calling after them. He looked back at the healers’ den to shoot a grin at his papa who seemed worried. Don’t worry, Papa, he tried to say with his smile, I’ll come back a hero! Just watch!

Stoat Group fell into a small arrow shape with the apprentices in the middle, directly behind Snowstar and Pigeoncover. Floodpaw made sure to check regularly that he could still see Fernpaw and Fishpaw on either side of him as they made the long and silent journey to the border, or rather, to where the rogues had pushed the border. Despite the biting cold, he felt like he was burning with anticipation. It felt like at any moment they would suddenly be in the thick of battle. 

Eventually, Snowstar lifted her tail to stop them, and Floodpaw craned his neck to see the tracks ahead of them, covered heavily with freshly fallen snow. He wanted to ask if they were close but managed to keep a hold on his tongue. Snowstar looked at Pigeoncover and seemed to convey a message without a word. The FallenClan deputy nodded, glanced at Tumblefang, and then the two cats peeled off to the East, making a wide circle. Snowstar glanced at Charredbranch and he grinned, then flicked his tail at Fernpaw and the two of them split off to the West. 

Floodpaw started to vibrate in excitement. This must be it, he thought, we’re about to attack! He opened his mouth to try and catch any scent but the snow had muffled all of it. If the city cats were here, he had no idea where. 

A tense moment passed. Then another. Floodpaw strained his ears for any sound. He couldn’t hear anything above the blood pounding in his own ears. He spotted Charredbranch’s ears poking out of a snow bank to their right. He couldn’t see Pigeoncover anywhere.

Snowstar chirped, like a chattering bird, and all of the cats surged forward in an instant. Floodpaw moved as soon as he realized what was happening, flowing through Snowstar’s pawprints like rain water finding the fastest way down a hill. She bounded down a small slope then turned sharply right. Floodpaw blinked and suddenly there were dens in the snow in front of them. Snowstar crashed through into one and one of the cats inside screamed. 

“What’s going on?!” he heard a stranger cry out.

“We’re under attack!” another voice shouted, “Get up! Everyone up!” 

Pebblefall was in front of him and a rogue rose up to meet him, barring the entrance. Floodpaw shifted from foot to foot and glanced at Fishpaw. She growled in frustration and glanced around so he did the same. There was a second den where the two offshoots had converged and were being held at bay by a big ginger tabby with a jingling collar. There didn’t seem to be another den to attack. 

“Back up!” he heard Pebblefall hiss and the rest of the group hurried back to allow Pebblefall and Snowstar back out into the snow. Floodpaw gaped in disbelief. Had they been driven out so easily?! Then, he saw the genius in their plan. As they retreated, the city cats inside followed, leading them out where the other warriors could more easily attack them. 

A silver speckled tabby dashed out of the den and was tackled by Bogmist before she knew what was happening. A pale ginger she-cat with bengal spots lunged for Pebblefall only to have Fishpaw pounce on her from the other side. Snowstar arched her back in a hiss and a pale silver tabby tom, bleeding from a nasty claw wound above his eye, leapt to meet her. The tom looked just like Fogkit and Floodpaw realized suddenly that he must be Ghost.

Spitting furiously, Floodpaw darted in and grabbed Ghost’s back leg in his teeth. He gave a tug and Ghost stumbled, crying out. Snowstar took the opportunity to lunge for his neck but Ghost managed to roll out of the way. 

“What do we do?” a ginger tom cried from inside the den. More cats huddled behind him, reeking of fear scent. Floodpaw frowned. That wasn’t right.

“Get out of here!” Ghost barked, backing away from Floodpaw as he desperately tried to blink the blood from his right eye. Snowstar pursued him with a hiss but something unnerving twisted in Floodpaw’s gut.

“You will stay and fight!” shouted the ginger kittypet from across the way where he had Charredbranch pinned. “That’s an order!” Several kittypets had poured out of the den to join the fight. Pigeoncover and Tumblefang were trading back and forth between a black and white tom and a brown and white tabby she-cat. Fernpaw danced in circles, avoiding the swipes of two more kittypet rogues. 

Floodpaw immediately sprinted to his friend’s rescue. Snowstar would handle Ghost. Fernpaw needed him. 

He sprang at the bigger of the two, a scarred black smoke tabby tom and landed on his back. He clung for dear life, biting at the tom’s neck, but the kittypet rolled over and he wasn’t quick enough to avoid being crushed under the heavier cat’s weight. 

Still, he had drawn one of the cats off of Fernpaw who called out, “Thanks!” as he finally turned to attack his pursuer. 

Floodpaw rolled to his paws just in time. Right where he had been, the scarred kittypet slammed his paws down with enough force to crack Floodpaw’s sternum in half, he thought. Floodpaw darted to nip at his hind legs and followed the movement to circle the tom as he tried to round on Floodpaw. 

“Big-eared brat!” the rogue hissed, snapping for Floodpaw’s tail. Floodpaw squeaked but managed to leap out of the way just in time. 

A roar sounded on the hill, a dozen cats crying out. Eagle Group descended into the circle of trampled snow and crashed into the rogues. Russetfrond barreled into the tom Floodpaw was fighting and took him to the ground. Floodpaw panted heavily, glad that he’d been saved but unsure how to help now. 

He backed up to try and get a better look at the battlefield. The noise was suddenly overwhelming, a cacophony of yowling, writhing bodies. Now that the second wave had arrived, the Clans outnumbered the city cats more than two to one. All at once, the smell of blood became overwhelming. It wasn’t a tantalizing smell like prey blood. No, it was all wrong, like a sinister corruption of the taste. Floodpaw instinctively crouched low to the ground, trying to get his bearings against the tide of sensory information. 

“We need to go!” shrilled the silver speckled tabby, bleeding heavily from her shoulder. 

“Do not break rank!” bellowed the black and white kittypet, dodging blows from Tumblefang and Branchbark. 

“Kill the damn pests already!” hissed a voice behind Floodpaw and he twisted suddenly to see the ginger tabby kittypet bearing down on him. 

“Floodpaw, look out!” shouted Ospreymask as she heaved herself back onto her feet, a gash on her leg spraying blood over the snow. Floodpaw twisted to try and get out of the way but the kittypet slammed into him, pushing him onto his back in the snow. Floodpaw kicked with his hind legs, felt them connect with the soft flesh of the tom’s belly, and tried to dig his claws deep into it. Meanwhile, teeth snapped at his neck, grazed the skin, then made contact, tearing into the loose skin there. Floodpaw shrieked in pain. 

The tom’s head twisted suddenly, pulled off course by Ospreymask’s claws hooked into one of his eyes. The kittypet roared, spun around, and swiped at her. Floodpaw acted on instinct and lunged, grabbing the skin beneath the tom’s arm in his teeth. He pulled hard. Blood gushed over his face, hot and sour. 

Ospreymask slammed the tom face first into the snow, pulling him out of Floodpaw’s grip. He backed up and pressed a paw against the wound in his neck. 

“Floodpaw!” suddenly Goldenstar was beside him. “Are you alright?” He nodded silently, reeling.

He couldn’t look away from Ospreymask. Fury burning in her eyes, she rolled on top of the rogue, ignored his claws swiping at her face, and sank her teeth into his neck. Floodpaw had never seen such ferocity. The tom twisted his hind legs to strike at her. His claws tore at her belly, blood spattered the ground. She adjusted her grip on his neck and tore. 

Blood, more blood than Floodpaw had ever seen, spurted rhythmically from the kittypet’s neck and bathed the snow red. The tom gurgled and fell over, eyes staring blankly as he shuddered in the throes of death. 

Ospreymask looked at Floodpaw with an intense stare. “Are you alright?” Her whole chin and a good portion of her chest were drenched in blood.

“Uh, yeah-” he said, trying to meet her eyes, but he couldn’t help looking back at the kittypet - at his body.

“Sycamore!” screamed the kittypet she-cat. Suddenly she was tearing across the clearing towards Ospreymask. “You little bitch! I’ll tear you apart!” Robinswoop was behind the kittypet and hooked his claws into her tail, causing her to tumble into the snow. Then Ryestripe was on her, raining down blows. 

“Shit!” cursed Ghost. When he turned around to look, Snowstar swiped out and deepened the wound above his eye. Sparrowpaw leapt onto his back and sank his claws in, forcing him to refocus on the fight in front of him. 

“Sycamore’s dead!” cried the cat who had been fighting Fernpaw. “Retreat!” 

“Retreat!” chorused the street cats. There was a pause as everyone took a step back and the rogues started to flee. Some of the warriors cheered or spat insults at their backs. The brown tabby she-cat snarled furiously and lunged for Ospreymask again, but the black and white tom caught her by her scruff and pulled her back. 

“We have to go, Bella!” he snapped. Tears in her eyes, the she-cat looked at the horde of warriors hovering at the ready around them. They were the only two city cats left. Floodpaw watched the gravity of the situation sink in on her face. 

Backing up against the other kittypet, she glared at Ospreymask and said, “This isn’t over! You’ll pay for what you’ve done! All of you degenerates will pay!” 

“Yeah, yeah!” laughed Tumblefang.

“Beat it, flea bag!” jeered Fishpaw. 

Seething through gritted teeth, the kittypets turned and fled after their compatriots. 

“We are victorious!” shouted Flightstar and the crowd whooped and hollered in response. Cries of triumph went up throughout the group as cats turned to each other with wide smiles and bloody pelts. 

“Sparrowpaw!” Russetfrond barked above the noise, “Go fetch your father!”

“Yes, sir!” cried Sparrowpaw and he bounded over the hill the way they had come. Snowstar started moving among the cats, checking for serious injuries. Goldenstar rasped her tongue over Floodpaw’s neck, cleaning away the blood, and he suddenly came back to his body. 

“Are you alright, kid?” she asked, making eye contact with him. 

“Yeah,” he said, “I think. Is it bad?” He tried to look down at his wound. 

“It’s not that bad,” said Goldenstar, licking over his ears fondly. “We’ll get some cobwebs on it and you’ll be right as rain.” 

“Who got the kill?” shouted Tumblefang, moving through the crowd.

“Ospreymask!” said Robinswoop. A few cats called their congratulations and Ospreymask blushed, running her tongue over her dripping red muzzle. 

“As prophesied!” declared Snowstar with a dawning wonder. “Behold, the raptor that crushed the snake in its beak!” Floodpaw’s eyes widened. That had been a part of the prophecy? Cheers went up among the group. Branchbark appeared to try and lift Ospreymask onto his shoulders and the two of them laughed and began to wrestle. Floodpaw found himself staring at the body again, at the blood coagulating in the cavity she had made in its throat. That had been a person before but now it was just a stiff thing lying in the snow. Floodpaw couldn’t even remember its name. 

“Hey,” Goldenstar said, nudging him. “Maybe we should head back to camp, yeah?” 

“Oh,” he said, tearing his gaze away. “Yeah, maybe.” He looked back at the body. “Is it always so… scary?” 

Goldenstar laid her tail over his back and mumbled. “The first time is the hardest. It gets easier. But it’s a good reminder. Warriors try not to kill to win their battles.” 

“Because it’s scary like that?” he asked, looking back at her.

“And because the dead never get to see their loved ones again. You remember how much it hurt people when Nightfrost died, right?” He nodded. “When possible, you should try not to cause that much hurt. Nothing good ever comes from it.” 

“But we won,” he said. “We won because she killed him.” 

“We did,” Goldenstar said, lips pursed. “We probably could have won without killing anyone. But what happened happened. Sometimes you try your hardest and it still happens like that. We can’t change the past. We can only try and make a better future.” 

“Gotcha…” he said, swallowing as he looked at the bloodstained snow. 

“Floodpaw!” Oddstripe cried, rushing down the slope in front of Sparrowpaw. “Oh, StarClan, are you alright?” He reached them and took Floodpaw’s face in his paws to angle him this way and that. 

“The wound isn’t serious,” Goldenstar said reassuringly. “He fought well.” 

“They both did,” said Russetfrond, coming to join them. Sparrowpaw beamed at his brother but Floodpaw was too busy trying to break free. 

“Papa, stop! I’m fine!” he protested, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. 

“Oh, I was so worried about you, is-” Oddstripe stopped as he looked up and saw the body. “Oh- Stars above!” 

“It’s alright,” Goldenstar said, “He’s one of the rogues.” 

“There aren’t any other casualties,” said Coyotechaser, approaching, “but Pebblefall has a lot of wounds and Furrowleap can’t move his leg properly.” 

“And I should probably get my belly seen too,” said Ospreymask, stumbling over, leaning on Branchbark.

“Oh,” Oddstripe seemed suddenly overwhelmed. “Right, yes, let me look at your belly. If you could fetch Pebblefall…”

“Will do,” said Coyotechaser, moving away. 

Goldenstar reared up on her hind legs and called out, “Everyone who can should start heading back to RisingClan’s camp! Sagetooth and Tangletooth will be waiting to tend to your wounds and there’s a feast of fish waiting for all of you!” The war band cheered uproariously and began to meander back in the direction they had come. 

“Russetfrond,” Goldenstar said, dropping back to all four paws, “take the body over the Thunderpath please. Take whoever you need with you.”

“You got it,” he said, then looked at Branchbark. “Come on, you.” 

“Wh- me?!” protested the warrior. 

“Yes, you,” grumbled Russetfrond, “now hop to it. The faster we get this done the faster you can go back to doing whatever you wanted.” 

“Can I come?” Sparrowpaw asked. 

Russetfrond hummed then shrugged. “Alright. You can be our look out.” Sparrowpaw nodded seriously and moved with them as they went over to the body and began to drag it through the snow. 

Fernpaw appeared and butted heads with Floodpaw. “Was that awesome or what?!” he cried. 

“Yeah,” Floodpaw said, letting the other apprentice’s energy infect him. “You were amazing! When you were fighting those two cats at once-?!”

“Don’t forget when you saved me!” Fernpaw beamed. “I can’t believe you’re younger than I am!” 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t eat death berries and spend a moon in the healers’ den,” Floodpaw joked, swiping playfully at his ear. 

“Hey! I told you that in confidence!” Fernpaw laughed, looking around to see if anyone had heard. 

Floodpaw gave him another shove and said, “I’ll race you back to camp!” 

“Okay, readysetgo!”  Fernpaw blurted quickly and then tore off through the snow.