#stormwhisper

Another kittypet lunged in to fill the other’s space, lashing out with both claws, and she barely avoided losing an eye with a corkscrew twist. There were so many of them, jostling around each other claustrophobically. She danced backwards, using her long reach to her advantage as she skirted claws and teeth and threw in a strike here or there. 

One of the kittypets struck hard in the elbow and she limped backwards only for another to lunge in and topple her onto her back again. She hissed and kicked out but this one didn’t give. He sank his teeth into her shoulder and she cried out in pain. The other cat was snapping at her tail. The number of cats was overwhelming, threatening to shut her brain down entirely which was terrifying. She could feel her thoughts spiraling out of control, wondering where Slatepaw was or if Songdust would be able to keep up with the amount of enemies. 

“Barley!” Yarrowshade’s voice snapped her back into the here and now. With a painful tug on her shoulder, the cat on top of her was tackled to the side and she managed to focus long enough to kick the other kittypet hard in the face. She stood and found herself back to back with Yarrowshade, relief flooding through her from every inch of him that pressed up against her. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she said without looking at him. The kittypet prowled in front of her, looking for a gap in her defense. 

“Get off me!” Yellowkit’s voice screamed above the din and it took all of her restraint not to turn her head towards the sound. 

“The kits,” she gasped.

“Go,” Yarrowshade said, “They need you.” She didn’t wait. Darting sideways, she wove around the thronging combatants, Yarrowshade snarling behind her. She moved as quickly as she could to the nursery, managing to leap and spring past any attacks that came her way until she came upon a smoky tabby hoisting Yellowkit by his scruff, another cat’s tail twitching in the entryway to the nursery as Bluekit screamed inside. 

“Back off!” Barleybee roared, smacking the tabby as hard as she could across the face. There was a righteous satisfaction in the resistance of his flesh against her claws. He reeled and Yellowkit managed to pull out of his grasp. 

“Help!” he wailed, trying to crawl underneath her, which wasn’t exactly helpful. 

“Get in the nursery!” she ordered, landing another sharp blow on the tabby’s head. Yellowkit nodded and rushed past her into the den. Barleybee turned quickly, hoping the tabby stayed down, and latched her teeth into the other rogue’s leg, yanking him backwards until his hindquarters were out of the den. Bluekit screamed even louder and Barleybee gave another frantic tug. 

“What the-” The kittypet wheeled around and swiped at her but she tumbled under the blow and into the nursery. Twisting onto her feet, she slashed at his eyes driving him backwards into the clearing. The two kittypets loomed close, glaring at her but she arched her back and did her best to block the entryway with her body. 

“Bluekit, are you hurt?” she asked over her shoulder.

“No, ma’am,” the kit said, voice trembling. 

“Good,” she nodded. “Both of you stay at the back of the den.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” cried Bluekit.

“Okay,” Yellowkit sniffled. 

“Out of the way, girl,” growled the second rogue, a burly, fawn-colored tom in a green collar.

“No way,” hissed Barleybee. 

“We’re just here for the kits,” said the smoke tabby, much calmer, as if they weren’t in the middle of a bloodbath. “They belong in the city with their mother. It’s wrong to keep them separated like this, surely you can see that.” 

“They’re happy where they are,” she said. “Touch them again and I’ll make you pay for it.” The tabby’s eyes darkened with thought. The fawn tom lunged. 

Barleybee had been waiting and she braced herself against his weight as he tried to shove her backwards into the den, paws skidding in the dirt. She wrapped her paws around his neck and sank her teeth into his cheek, twisting her head with her jaw clamped firmly around his flesh. He hissed in pain, twisted his head with hers to avoid the worst of the pain, and ended up losing his balance, forced to fall back. Barleybee gave him a few more claw wounds to send him on his way. 

The tabby moved in and reared up to swipe at her. Barleybee could tell by his stance that he would be easy to tackle but she ignored the temptation, instead swatting his paws out of the air before they could reach her face. He dropped back down, scowling, and she smirked in return. 

“Nice try,” she said. “I’m not moving.” 

“You’re smart,” said the tabby, “I’ll give you that.” Barleybee couldn’t help but be flattered, even if the cat complimenting her was despicable. When she realized it, her chest seized with panic. Was that a trick? Was he trying to get her to drop her guard with flattery? Had she already made a fatal mistake? She squared her stance, ears pressed back against her head, and bared her teeth. The smoky tabby’s tail twitched irritably. 

“London!” a voice hissed, “What’s the hold up?” Slinking in from the edge of the clearing came a small brown tabby with a dark mask and a silver collar. He glared at the smoky tabby for a beat before turning his cruel green gaze on Barleybee. 

“They’re big kits,” London said. “It’s not so easy to drag them off.” 

“Besides,” growled the fawn cat, “this bitch is blocking the door.” 

“She’s one girl!” the new tabby snapped, tail bristling. “Do your jobs already! Casper and I have already finished ours.” 

“If you’re so competent, do it yourself,” the fawn cat’s lip curled. The masked tabby’s gaze turned venomous. Barleybee took the chance to catch her breath, ears and eyes alert for any sign that one of them was about to move. She had to anticipate their attacks, had to be ready for anything. Yellowkit and Bluekit were counting on her.

Suddenly a new chorus of yowls broke out from the north-west. The movement of the battle shifted, turning towards the flood of cats that was pouring into the clearing. Barleybee’s eyes widened as she saw Snowstar and Orangestar clawing their way side by side into the heart of the fighting. 

“Reinforcements,” London hissed under his breath, his thick fur brushing up. 

“Quickly!” spat the masked tabby. “Let’s grab the kits and leave already!” 

The fawn cat lunged for Barleybee again and this time he took her to the ground. Yellowkit and Bluekit screamed in chorus as he slammed her onto her back. She kicked as hard as she could, trying to tear up his belly, and he twisted off of her, leaving claw marks on her shoulders. 

The nursery had been breached. London darted in over her, moving straight for the kits, only to be suddenly pulled backward by his tail. He yowled in pain, twisted around and slashed at Russetfrond but the deputy held fast to his tail. With another yank, he dragged London back out, stripping a section of his tail of fur. 

“You again,” the masked tabby grumbled, dropping low into a crouch. Russetfrond growled around the tail in his mouth. 

Barleybee quickly rolled to her feet and lunged for the rogue inside the nursery, tearing his fawn pelt in her claws as she chased him up against one of the walls. He kicked her hard in the belly and she stumbled back, trying to make her body as big of a barrier between him and the kittens as she could, but, to her surprise, he took the opportunity to slip through the entrance and take off into the night.

“Coward!” shouted the masked tabby. 

London had finally managed to get Russetfrond to let go of his tail and now he backed up next to the smaller cat. “I think it’s time to go.” Barleybee quickly moved to block the entrance again. Outside, the battlefield had changed dramatically. Now outnumbered, the city cats were starting to fall back one by one, only making the remaining rogues more outnumbered with every second. 

“Sardine, right?” Russetfrond growled, prowling forward. “You’re not going anywhere this time.” Appearing from the crowd, Sparrowsway hissed his agreement and moved to cut off the rear. The masked tabby -- Sardine, it seemed -- glanced warily at both of them, shifting into a smaller, defensive stance. London growled and turned to keep an eye on Sparrowsway, his tail twitching threateningly back and forth. 

A white shape slammed into Russetfrond’s side, pushing him off his feet. The deputy swayed, caught himself, and lurched back at the snub-nosed kittypet who had attacked him. The rogue’s face was drenched in blood, a crimson streak stark against his glossy white fur. Barleybee shuddered at the sight. Whose blood had he spilt? Was it someone she knew? 

“Just in time, Casper,” Sardine purred smugly. He sprang towards Barleybee and she braced herself only to realize he was leaping up over her head to escape. Sparrowsway lunged after him but London tackled him out of the air and they rolled away, hissing violently as they clawed at each other. Barleybee bunched her legs to go after Sardine but froze. She glanced over her shoulder at the kittens huddled frightfully against the wall of the nursery. They stared at her with matching pairs of wide, glistening copper eyes. 

What if she left and they were kitnapped because of her? But wasn’t catching the leader of the city cats a top priority? Her ears fell back against her head as she realized that in her indecision she had made her choice. Swallowing, she braced herself in the entryway again. London and Casper had detached themselves from their opponents in the time she’d spent waffling and fled after their leader. Russetfrond snarled after them for a moment, then his gaze fell on her and he hurried over. 

“Are they alright?” he asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Yes, they’re safe,” she stepped to the side and pressed herself up against the wall to let him in.

“Father!” Bluekit wailed and rushed to press his face into Russetfrond’s fur. Yellowkit was close behind and Barleybee’s chest swelled with emotion as Russetfrond crouched down over his kits and ran his tongue over their pelts. 

“Did they hurt you?” he growled, checking their bellies and sides for wounds.

“They didn’t hurt us,” Bluekit shook his head.

“They were trying to take us away!” Yellowkit sobbed. 

“Those foxhearts,” Russetfrond snarled, curling tightly around his sons. “I’ll make them pay for that.” 

“That’s the last one!” Branchbark’s voice called out. Things had quieted somewhat but the camp was still noisy with the sound of EarthClan and SkyClan’s warriors. 

Stormwhisper leapt up on the Stoneperch and called, “Everyone with a serious injury, please gather over on the big flat stone there! Everyone else, please disperse so that we can tend to the wounded.” The crowd slowly began to separate and drift away from each other. 

Coyotechaser barked, “Someone help me take this kittypet out of camp and bury him.” Beneath her paws lay a tabby and white kittypet with glazed over expression. 

“I’ll help,” said Pantherhaze, limping over to her. Together, they started dragging the body out of camp, thank StarClan. Barleybee sighed, stepped away from the nursery, content that the kittens were safe, and padded over to Sparrowsway. 

He looked her over and asked, “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. She had her fair share of claw marks and a bite or two but nothing that needed immediate attention. “You?” 

“I’m fine,” he nodded. “I can’t believe they attacked during the gathering. Mystique must have told them about it.” He glared at the dirt, kneading his claws in frustration. Barleybee frowned worriedly. 

“I guess so…” she mumbled. Self-consciously, she straightened out a few of her feathers that had been knocked askew in the fight. She was certain that a few had fallen out. She’d have to find another cardinal to replace them…

A sudden scream cut through the air. Barleybee’s hackles shot up and her eyes darted across the camp to where Fogpaw was quickly backing out of the healers’ den. The apprentice’s fur stood on end, making her a white puff ball, and her tail arched sharply down behind her, ears pressed against her head. 

“What is it?” Scorchplume bounded over to her and searched her face. Fogpaw shook her head, staring unfocused into the mouth of the den. “Fogpaw, what’s wrong?” Fogpaw shook her head some more, this time meeting Scorch’s gaze, and burst into tears, flinging herself into her mentor’s chest. Scorchplume stiffened and very gingerly pulled the apprentice close, staring at Goldenstar for help. Goldenstar, standing by her den with Orangestar and Snowstar, looked just as lost and extremely concerned. 

After a moment, Floodstrike stepped out of the healer’s den, his paws drenched in thick, dark blood. He looked angrier than Barleybee had ever seen him and his eyes were red with tears. Dread gripped her chest tightly in its claws as the whole clearing held its breath. 

“Sagetooth and Lakepaw are dead,” he said hoarsely. “The herb stores are destroyed.” 

“Oh, stars,” Barleybee breathed. They’d been sick. Undefended. An overwhelming wave of crushing guilt fell over her. She should have known. She should have gone to help them. Someone else would have saved the kittens, she should have rescued Lakepaw. She started to cry as well, paws shaking as the adrenaline crash consumed her. 

“No,” Branchbark sobbed. Quickly, he hurried past Floodstrike into the healers’ den, jostling Floodstrike who failed to step out of the way. 

“Bogmist!” Stormwhisper stood up from where he had been inspecting Ospreymask’s wounds. “I need cobwebs and sorrel right now.” The EarthClan deputy nodded and took off towards the woods. Stormwhisper looked at the nearest non-RisingClan warrior and said, “You! I need fresh moss and water from the river. Go!” Nodding dutifully, Pebblefall leapt to their feet and dashed off into the fields. 

“Floodstrike,” Sparrowsway started towards his brother but Floodstrike turned his head away and stalked out of camp. Sparrowsway paused and looked back at Barleybee. 

She swallowed, sniffed, and said, “I’ll talk to him.” Quickly, she strode across camp to follow him. She caught up with him at the bottom of the hill on the southern side of camp, calling, “Floodstrike, wait!”

“I’m going to kill them,” he spat through tears, still walking. “I’m going to kill every single one of those monsters.”

“Wh- Now?” Barleybee asked, following his gaze towards the glowing orange of the distant city lights. “Floodstrike, that’s impossible! You’re going to get yourself killed!” 

“So what?” he rounded on her, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I have to do something! She needed me and I let her die! I failed her!” 

“You couldn’t have known!” Barleybee pleaded. “It’s not your fault, Floodstrike.” 

“She was my apprentice,” he sniffed harshly. “She looked up to me -- stars, she was so young! She was my little girl and they killed her!”

“I know,” Barleybee’s tears were flowing freely now. “I know, Floodstrike. But trying to take revenge isn’t going to make you feel any better. It will only make you a killer too.” 

“I’m not doing this for me!” he hissed, tail arching, “I’m doing this for her! She’s watching! She deserves to know I’m not just going to accept what they did to her!” 

“She wouldn’t want you to do this,” Barleybee stepped closer. “She was so sweet and kind. She would want you to move on and heal, Floodstrike. Please, come back to camp with me.” She watched his face for a good, long moment. His eyes were blazing with fury and red with grief. His throat rippled with effort. Eventually, he grit his teeth and looked down at his paws, chest shuddering with sobs, and sat down. Barleybee sat down next to him and pressed her head against his. 

“I… I can’t believe she’s gone,” he whispered between breaths. 

“I’m so sorry,” Barleybee pressed firm licks to his cheeks. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have to be this way.” Something about that caused him to break down even harder and he collapsed into her side. Barleybee wrapped her arms around his neck and eased him down to the ground. The two of them lay there, holding each other, and Barleybee tried to convince herself that, at the very least, if she couldn’t be there for Lakepaw it was good that she could be there for Floodstrike. 

The thought rang hollow and she spent the rest of the night thinking of what she could have done differently -- what she should have done differently. When they went back for the vigil, she whispered an apology to Lakepaw’s body. When they found white and dark tabby fur under Lakepaw’s claws, Barleybee knew exactly who was responsible but held off on telling Floodstrike. When they went to bed, she, Sparrowsway, and Oddstripe curled tightly around Floodstrike in a single nest, weary eyed and worn. 

“You’re sure I can’t go to the gathering?” Lakepaw pouted.

“I’m sorry, dear,” he shook his head, “it’s bad timing but you have to stay and rest. There will be another gathering next moon.” 

Sagetooth, laying on her side with her eyes shut tight, asked, “Will you be alright on your own, Oddstripe?” 

“Oh, yes,” he smiled and ran a few licks over her fur. “I’m sure I can manage. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyway, I’m just going to go sit below the Cornerstones and be quiet.”

“Hmf,” Sagetooth muttered something to herself but didn’t seem to have the energy to give any further commands. Oddstripe sighed in relief. 

“Hey, dad,” Sparrowsway ducked his head into the den, “you ready to go?” 

“Yep,” smiled Oddstripe. “I was just finishing up. You two get your rest, I’ll be back later tonight.” 

“Okay…” Lakepaw stared wistfully out at the night but kept her head on her paws. Oddstripe touched his nose to Lakepaw’s ear and padded out after his son. The Gathering party was congregating on the hill as the last stragglers made their way to the group. 

Russetfrond was untangling himself from his two eager kittens. Bluekit and Yellowkit clung to his legs begging in chorus to be allowed to go with him. Oddstripe winced as he watched the patience draining from Russetfrond’s face bit by bit. 

“I already said no,” he growled firmly, wiggling his paws out of their grasp. 

Bluekit whined and plopped down on his belly looking dejected but Yellowkit leapt for his father’s paw again, giggling, and cried, “Come onnnnn! I’ll be good, I promise!” 

“Enough!” Russetfrond snapped, nipping sharply at the kit who squealed and dropped into a crouch with his ears pressed back. Russetfrond picked him up by the scruff -- which was quite the feat given how much he had grown in his four moons -- and set him beside Bluekit, saying, “You can’t even be good right now! You’d both better learn to behave before you become apprentices or you’ll be stuck on tick duty for every Gathering.” 

“Sorry, father,” Bluekit said, sitting up straight and tucking his paws close to his body. 

“Sorry,” mumbled Yellowkit, looking at the ground. 

“Speak up,” Russetfrond ordered and Yellowkit straightened up. 

“Sorry, father,” he echoed. 

“That’s better,” huffed Russetfrond. “Now behave while I’m gone and maybe I’ll catch you a special treat, alright?” Both boys nodded and Russetfrond leaned in to plant a tender lick on both of their heads. “Thank you, boys. I love you.” 

“Love you,” the kits chorused. 

“I do not envy those kits,” Aldertail whispered to Oddstripe, having come up beside him at some point. 

Oddstripe tried to push the grimace from his face and said, “No, me neither. Poor things.” 

“He means well,” Sparrowsway said with a small grimace of his own. 

“I know,” Oddstripe purred, butting up against Sparrowsway’s shoulder. Then, glancing at Aldertail, he asked, “are you sure you don’t want to come tonight?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I don’t like crowds very much.” 

“Okay,” he smiled and bumped his head lightly against hers. “Enjoy your night, I’ll see you after the Gathering.” 

“‘Kay,” she blushed, shuffling her paws. “Have fun.” 

“Will do,” laughed Oddstripe and he twined his tail with Sparrowsway’s as they went to join the others. 

“Okay,” Goldenstar was saying, craning her neck to look over the crowd, “Russetfrond, Floodstrike, Scorchplume, Fogpaw, Branchbark… Ah! Oddstripe and Sparrowsay, that’s everyone. Let’s go.” 

“Have fun!” Slatepaw called after them. 

“You too!” cried Fogpaw, rearing up on her hind paws to wave goodbye. 

They made their way through the fields and over the river to the Cornerstones in the heavy evening heat. Even without the sun, the air was unseasonably warm and slightly humid, clinging to their fur like it wanted to slow them down. When they arrived, Oddstripe paused to take in the scene, enjoying the lively thrum of conversation. It seemed they were the last to arrive, all three of the other leaders sitting atop the Cornerstones already.

 “Floodstrike!” a pair of young EarthClan warriors called out and Floodstrike split off of the group to join them. Scorchplume and Fogpaw skirted the group to find a good vantage point to sit together. Branchbark waved his tail at a pair of SkyClan warriors and moved to join them.

“Aww, no Ospreymask?” one of them asked.

“Not tonight,” he said, “you’ll have to settle for me.” 

“I don’t think Pebblefall likes you like that,” laughed the other and the first warrior shoved him hard. 

“Whatever, bee brain.” 

Oddstripe chuckled to himself and turned to Sparrowsway who was standing next to him. “Go on and mingle, sweetheart.” 

“I’m alright,” said Sparrowsway, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Why don’t I walk you to the front?”

“If you really want to,” Oddstripe said, brow furrowing with worry, “but don’t you have friends you’d rather talk to than your old man?” 

“Nah,” Sparrowsway shrugged and smiled but Oddstripe wasn’t sure he believed the expression. “I always enjoy talking with you.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Oddstripe said as he let Sparrowsway escort him through the crowd. “You need friends who aren’t your father. It’s good for you.” 

“I’m alright,” Sparrowsway said again. “Most the cats my age are closer with Floodstrike anyway.” 

“What about Dawnbird?” Oddstripe offered. “She seems like such a polite young lady, I’m sure you’d get along well.” 

Sparrowsway pursed his lips to hide a wince. “Maybe. Seriously though, dad, I’m fine.” 

“Oh, alright,” Oddstripe chewed his lip fretfully and stopped to give Sparrowsway’s cowlick a few firm licks. “I just worry about you.”

“Don’t,” Sparrowsway laughed and ducked away from the licks. “I’m happy, dad, I really am.” 

“Okay…” Oddstripe stepped back towards the Cornerstones. “Just don’t hold yourself back from having fun, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t,” said Sparrowsway.

Deciding he would just have to be satisfied with that answer, Oddstripe turned away and padded over to where Blazingbrush and Stormwhisper were sitting near the front of the crowd. Stormwhisper brightened and twitched an ear in greeting as he approached. 

“Oh, where’s Tangletooth?” Oddstripe asked, looking around. 

“Coyotechaser said he stayed home tonight,” said Blazingbrush. “They didn’t want to risk him overexerting himself in the heat.” 

“I can’t blame them,” said Oddstripe. “Sagetooth is home with heat stroke tonight.” 

Stormwhisper inhaled worriedly through his teeth. “Stars, I hope she’s alright.” 

“She just needs some rest,” Oddstripe reassured him, “don’t worry.” Stormwhisper nodded, looking at his paws.

“Well, we might as well enjoy their absence for the night,” Blazingbrush grinned. “I mean how often do the three of us get to hang out, just us?” 

“Not often,” Stormwhisper admitted. 

Oddstripe laughed. “Why not? Let’s make the most of it.” Looking at Stormwhisper, he asked, “How are the kittens doing, by the way? They’re apprentices now aren’t they?” 

“Yeah,” nodded Stormwhisper, “Two moons in already.” 

“Oh, that’s right!” Oddstripe smiled remembering the Gathering where that had been announced, “Bluffpaw is apprenticed to Orangestar, isn’t he.” 

“That’s right,” Stormwhisper said. His expression softened as he continued, “Finchpaw and Rainpaw have been coming by lately to ask me about StarClan. I’m so glad they take the time. I miss the little beasts, even though I’m not their father or anything.” He looked at his paws again and Oddstripe couldn’t help but smile. Stars, he was terrible at hiding things. It was adorable.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “My kits grew up so fast! One day I was their whole world and then the next they were running off in all different directions -- into fights! Oh, it was terrifying -- is terrifying! But I just have to trust that StarClan is watching over them, you know?”

“Mhm,” Blazingbrush nodded. “I get so worried every time one of the apprentices comes back with even a bruise on them! There’s a reason I chose healing over battle practice.” She chuckled a bit and looked out over the crowd as if she were searching for someone and Oddstripe suddenly wondered if she had more in common with him and Stormwhisper than he had previously imagined. 

“Alright!” Snowstar’s voice pierced the air and silenced the chatter of the crowd. “I think it’s about time we get started, yes?” Oddstripe shifted his posture to look up at her, putting that line of thinking away for now.

“I’ll start the meeting off by saying that greenleaf has been good to SkyClan. Prey is running well, even as we head into leaffall the Clan is well fed. We’ve accepted some new blood into our Clan, two cats from over the mountains who have taken the names Rockylake and Hobbleheart. They’re here with us tonight and we welcome them as new members of SkyClan.” 

She gestured with her nose to a pair of cats sitting with Charredbranch and Greyvoice, a solid brown she-cat and a solid black tom. Oddtripe smiled in their direction, wondering which one was which. The crowd cheered weakly for them before quieting down again.

“Thankfully,” Snowstar said, “SkyClan has no further business. Orangestar?” 

“Thank you,” Orangestar smiled, stepping forward. “I am disappointed to say that the rogues from the city have started hunting in our forest again. Only one hunting party has been caught but at least two more have left clear signs of their trespassing on our land. That, in conjunction with the warning I’m sure we all received from RisingClan earlier this moon,” here she paused to glance at the other leaders, all of whom nodded, “I think the possibility of a continued war is not unlikely.” 

“I agree,” Goldenstar said, taking a small step forward. “It’s only a matter of time before the city cats start another fight. It would be in all of our best interests to have a plan in place for when they do.”

“What I’m hearing,” Flightstar interrupted, “is that you both don’t know how to defend your own territories against a group of kittypets.”

“These kittypets are trained fighters,” Goldenstar scowled. “You were at both of the battles we’ve had with them, you must have recognized that they’re no small threat.” 

“They have numbers,” he said dismissively, “nothing more.”

“You’re joking,” Orangestar blurted in disbelief.

“Underestimating these rogues is not helpful,” Snowstar added. “They took Darkmoon’s life, lest we forget.”

“And Darkmoon alone,” said Flightstar. 

“And Smokyrose,” Goldenstar scowled.

“Who was a mediator,” continued Flightstar stubbornly. “She could not have been difficult to overpower.” Oddstripe’s tail bristled instinctively and somewhere in the crowd he heard Fogpaw growling. The energy of the Gathering was starting to shift in a dangerous direction.

“Be careful not to speak ill of the dead,” warned Snowstar, sensing the change.

“I speak ill of no one,” Flightstar’s lip curled as he spoke. “I am simply stating the fact that these rogues are not the elite fighting force you two try to make them out to be. This all smells to me like a ploy to hunt in our territories now that leaffall is setting in and I’ll have none of it.” Tumblefang yowled her support from the middle of the crowd. 

“Look!” Stormwhisper called out, rising to his feet. “The moon!” 

With a chorus of gasps, the assembled cats threw their gazes skyward to see a cluster of wispy clouds in the early stages of choking out the moon’s light. Oddstripe stood too, eyes wide. In all his time as a healer, this had never happened, even though Sagetooth had told him stories of it before. 

“See?” Oddstripe recognized Scorchplume’s voice. “StarClan disapproves of your stubborn refusal to help the other Clans!” 

“No,” Tumblefang shouted back, “they’re sick of cats like you trying to take advantage of the rest of us!” 

“Cats like me?” Scorchplume laughed. 

“Easy,” Goldenstar said, projecting authoritatively. “We should all work to be less contentious with each other. Let’s calm down and pray we regain their favor.” 

From the east side of the clearing, a new voice cried out at the top of its lungs, “Help!” Oddstripe whipped around, Aldertail’s panicked shouts spiking fear through his chest.

“Aldertail?” Goldenstar gasped. “Aldertail, what’s going on?” 

“I-it’s the camp!” she sobbed, skidding to a halt as every eye turned in her direction. “The Exalted, th-they’re attacking the camp!” 

Russetfrond took off, leaping from his seat beside Bogmist and weaving through the crowd with a speed and purpose Oddstripe had rarely seen him use. Sparrowsway fell into step right behind him, his mentor’s dutiful second paw. 

“Fogpaw!” Scorchplume hissed as her apprentice took off after them.

“Come on,” Floodstrike looked at his friends before darting into the trees as well. Fishtrick took off after him, her ginger tail streaming out behind her, and Boldmoth stared up at Orangestar in bewilderment. Orangestar exchanged a look with Goldenstar then nodded. 

“EarthClan, let’s show those rogues what happens when they mess with warriors!” Orangestar shouted and then she and Goldenstar leapt down from the Cornerstones to follow. 

“SkyClan, likewise!” Snowstar boomed. “To war!” 

Everything was happening so fast. As more cats streamed out of the clearing, Oddstripe fought his way over to Aldertail. She was shaking, eyes shut tight, pressed down into a tiny ball on the ground. 

“Aldertail!” he cried, curling around her. “Are you alright?”

Branchbark joined them, eyes wide. “Aldertail, are you hurt?” 

“No, no,” Aldertail sobbed, shaking her head. “I ran as soon as I saw them! I’m so sorry, I’m such a coward!” 

“Oh, no!” Oddstripe pressed his head close to hers. “You came and got help! That was the right thing to do.” 

“I have to go,” Branchbark said, looking torn.

Oddstripe nodded to him. “I know. We’ll be fine, go help the others.” Branchbark nodded and bounced on his feet before taking off in a sprint. Aldertail pressed closer to Oddstripe’s side and whimpered.

Behind them, FallenClan had congregated at the base of the Cornerstones, talking in hushed voices, and Oddstripe heard Blazingbrush say, “StarClan’s sign is clear. The other Clans need our help.” 

“They have their help,” Flightstar growled. “We don’t need to get involved.” 

“What if our warriors make the difference between victory and defeat?” asked Ryestripe. 

“If they were better at defending their borders, they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place,” spat Tumblefang. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ryestripe growled back. 

“Enough!” Flightstar snapped. “We’re going home. Anyone who wants to go to RisingClan’s camp can stay there permanently, understood?” There was a long pause then he stormed off into the woods in the opposite direction as the rest of the cats had gone. One by one, the FallenClan warriors followed him. 

Blazingbrush stared after her Clanmates, mouth open. “But-” She looked at the deputy, the last cat to go, and said, “Pigeoncover- You have to convince him! Surely, we can’t just do nothing!” 

Pigeoncover stood still for a beat, not looking at her. Then they softly said, “You’re already on thin ice, Blazingbrush. It would be best if you came along.” Blazingbrush looked like she had been struck. Still unable to meet her gaze, Pigeoncover slank into the woods after their father, leaving Blazingbrush, Oddstripe, and Aldertail alone in the clearing together. 

Oddstripe wanted to go to the other healer but he didn’t want to tear himself away from Aldertail’s shaking body. He opened his mouth but Blazingbrush looked at him and the words escaped his mind. They looked at each other for a long, hollow moment. 

“I’m so sorry,” Blazingbrush said. 

“It’s okay,” Oddstripe replied. “I understand.” 

“Oddstripe?” Sagetooth’s voice echoed his question cantankerously. The healer stomped out from behind a tree to glare at them. When she spotted Scorch, her expression flattened to something close to resignation. “And Scorchplume. What in the Dark Forest are you doing here?” The other healers craned their necks to see what the fuss was about. 

“I had a vision!” Oddstripe explained, moving closer. “Have any of you seen Goldenstar? Scorchplume needs to get to her right away.” 

“No,” Sagetooth shook her head, “She’s probably in the thickest of the fighting.” Scorch swallowed thickly and tried to keep her eyes from darting around at every noise. 

“Then that’s where we have to go,” Oddstripe said reluctantly. 

“You’ll get yourself killed,” Sagetooth snapped. 

“She’s right,” said Stormwhisper, “it’s too dangerous.”

“This was stupid,” Scorch huffed, tail twitching. “I shouldn’t even be here.”

“No, no!” Oddstripe’s ears pressed back against his skull. “My vision was very clear! If Scorchplume doesn’t get to Goldenstar, she’ll die!” 

“She has nine lives,” Sagetooth said. “She’s prepared to lose one of them to kill Razor.” Scorch grit her teeth and held her tongue. That was part of the problem! 

Oddstripe shook his head in distress. “No, I mean she’ll die die! Like completely dead!” 

“That’s ridiculous,” huffed Sagetooth. “That only happens if a cat gets sick or drowns, things that can’t be healed immediately.” 

“You all sound insane,” Scorch hissed. “She’s probably already dead.” She almost wished that were true. In that case, she would have something final to hold onto instead of floating unmoored in this unbearable uncertainty. 

Sagetooth growled to herself, tail lashing. “Hush, kit. Don’t speak on things you know nothing about.” 

“Stormwhisper!” a voice called from the other side of the small clearing. “It’s Darkmoon!” Dawnbird came dashing in as Coyotechaser and Sparrowpaw trailed behind with a bloody Darkmoon limping between them. 

“Bring him over here!” Stormwhisper said, attention completely diverted. “Blazingbrush, grab the poppy seeds!” 

“On it!” 

“He’s having trouble breathing,” Sparrowpaw said, sparing only a brief glance their way. 

Sagetooth chewed her lip for a second and then said, “Oddstripe, if you’re completely sure, you should go looking. StarClan will guide you.” 

“Alright,” nodded Oddstripe. He stepped up beside Scorchplume and looked towards the battlefield, tail arched behind him. 

“This is crazy,” Scorchplume said. “You know this is crazy, right?” 

“I know,” Oddstripe fretted, looking at his son who was already darting back towards the battle. “I can’t do nothing though.” He stepped forward, then stopped all of a sudden, eyes wide. “Do you see that?” 

Scorch leaned in to follow his gaze. “What? I don’t see anything.” 

“Look!” he said breathily, pointing with his muzzle. “See how the sun is shining through those trees?” Scorch looked again. The trees seemed completely normal, the dawn light filtering in between the leaves. There was a small trail of stronger light where the branches let in more of the sun’s rays. It didn’t seem particularly special to her mind.

“So?” she asked.

“It’s leading perfectly through the trees,” Oddstripe said, already bounding towards it. “We have to follow it!” 

“What?!” Scorch bristled. “But it’s nowhere near the battle!” 

“Come on!” was all he said, shouting over his shoulder. 

Scorch let out a frustrated whine, claws kneading the damp earth in frustration. This was insane! She was following a crazy person into the woods for no reason! Still, she glanced around and decided she didn’t want to stay here and she knew she wouldn’t have the stomach to just go back, so she dashed to catch up with him. She hoped that Goldenstar actually needed her help or else she was going to feel so stupid after this. 

She followed Oddstripe through the trees for a while as he raced along the thin line of sunlight that cut a path between the trees. Scorch had to admit, it was strange how continuous the line was, how it was never blocked by shrubbery and it never led them up the side of a tree. She shrugged it off as a freaky coincidence. The sound of fighting faded behind them, allowing her nerves to settle just a bit. 

Then, suddenly, the playful sound of a bell rattling with effort. 

“Wait, shh!” she hissed softly. “Stop!”

Oddstripe did so, ears perked attentively. “What is that?” 

“A collar bell,” she whispered, “It’s one of the Exalted. What are they doing all the way out here?” 

“Let’s go look,” Oddstripe said, creeping closer. 

“W- Don’t-!” Scorch bristled indignantly. Her protests didn’t slow him and with another frustrated kneading, she slank after him.

Ahead of them was a small clearing in which a large tabby tom stood hunched over something, shaking it in his jaws. Scorch’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of Razor. What was he doing out here?! She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was beating so fast she thought her body might explode. 

“Oh, Stars,” Oddstripe whispered beside her, his voice full of horror. 

At the sound, Razor turned to face them, eyes searching the underbrush, and Scorch gasped. The thing in his jaws was Goldenstar, her body limp and bloody, eyes gazing vacantly as her head lolled in their direction. Razor dropped the body and it hit the ground with a wet thump. 

“Who’s out there?” he asked, teeth bared. Scorch took a step back. Oddstripe started to move forward. 

“What are you doing?!” Scorch said in a whisper so high it was almost a squeak. 

“I have to help her,” Oddstripe said, shifting his posture lower as if about to sprint.

“She’s dead!” Scorch hissed. “There’s no helping her now!” 

“There you are,” Razor’s voice sent a chill down her spine. The way his eyes swept over the shrub told her he couldn’t see them yet but he stepped over Goldenstar’s body and prowled in their direction. 

Scorchplume had no idea what possessed her to step forward in that moment. She should have run. She should have left Oddstripe to his foolishness and started heading for the hills. Instead, she inexplicably walked straight into the fire and she had no idea why. 

When Razor saw her, his furious snarl softened in surprise. “Gingersnap.” He said. 

Scorchplume swallowed dryly. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. Oddstripe was right behind her somewhere, sure to be discovered. Carefully, she sidestepped Razor to get a better look at the corpse, hoping to lead his attention away from the hidden healer. 

“Razor, what have you done?” she asked hoarsely. She stared past the body and let her vision fog, unable to actually look at the grisly details marring the pelt of the cat she had been sharing a nest with for the last few weeks. 

“Don’t be like that,” Razor frowned, closing distance with her. He licked the blood from his muzzle and buried his nose in the fur at the back of her neck. She stiffened under his touch, stomach turning queasily. It felt like he had her insides in a vice and was squeezing them as hard as he could. 

“Forget about the savage, Gingersnap. She’s gone now.” 

Scorch inhaled shakily. “Razor, please…” 

“What?” he asked, a hint of annoyance replacing the sickly sweet tone he had been using. “Please what, little bird?” 

“Please, just…” She didn’t know where she was going with this. “Just let me go.” 

Razor’s posture shifted dangerously. “Let you go?” he breathed. “Careful, Gingersnap. You almost sound like you don’t want to go back with me.” 

“I don’t,” she sobbed, backing away. “I never did!” 

“That’s a lie,” he shouted, “words planted in your head by that filthy wild cat!” Scorch, hunched down against the ground, spared one glance past him at Goldenstar’s body. Oddstripe was crouched over her, rubbing chewed up yarrow over her gaping wounds in a futile display of optimism. Razor’s paw shot out and pushed her chin upwards. 

“Don’t look at her!” he snapped. “She’s gone now. Look at me.” 

“Stop it!” she cried, pushing him away. 

“No,” he boomed, shoving her roughly back, “you need to learn! I am the only one who has ever cared about you! I gave you everything you wanted, practically crawled over glass to suit your whims, and all the while you snuck around behind my back! Why?!”

“Don’t touch me!” Scorch screamed, unable to think another thought. She reared up on her toes in an attempt to feel less like a cowering child. 

“You will never be satisfied!” Razor laughed bitterly. “You’re a leech, Gingersnap, all you do is feed off other people but it will never be enough for you! You will always be empty and miserable and incomplete!” Scorch pressed her ears back against her head to block out the words. He was just trying to get into her head, she couldn’t listen to him. 

Razor leaned down and lowered his voice to something pleading and gentle. “Why can’t you just let me love you?” Scorch struck out with her claws and they gouged into the soft flesh of his eye. Razor snarled in pain and recoiled, blinking away the blood now pouring down the right side of his face. 

“You little bitch!” he hissed and swiped out with his own claws. Her body moved instinctively, ducking backwards on muscle memory, and the strike grazed her whiskers. Her heart was pounding. Mouth dry, she lunged and swiped at him like Goldenstar had taught her only to be slammed onto her back by Razor’s massive paws. 

“You’ll pay for that,” he growled, blood dripping from his face onto hers. She squirmed helplessly. Why had she done this? For months she had avoided this exact course of action knowing it would end in her death but something about these Clan cats had sabotaged the defenses she had been building all her life and introduced a fatal flaw. She wondered if an apology would do anything at this point. 

“There!” she heard Russetfrond shout from a distance. Razor turned his head and bared his teeth in a snarl. With a screech, Orangestar leapt onto Razor’s back in a blur of ginger fur, and he stumbled away to try and throw her off. Scorchplume gasped for breath and scrambled to her feet, cheeks drenched in tears. 

“Are you alright?” Russetfrond asked, appearing at her side. 

“I don’t know,” she swallowed. The deputy looked her up and down and seemed to conclude that she was fine. He turned his attention back to the battle and sprang off to join Orangestar.