Red Sun Rising: Chapter Twenty
(AO3 counterpart here.)
The wait was painful.
Firestar stood quietly, buried underground in a tunnel so well-hidden that he would have tripped and fallen into its entrance if he hadn’t been guided along the moor by a WindClanner. It wasn’t as dark as the Mother—stars knew even the pitch of sleep couldn’t beat that—but the light provided by the full moon was limited. Where the tunnels were straight, Firestar could see spots of dim illumination in a pattern like the streetlights of the Houses.
Mostly, he just saw shadowy silhouettes of fellow Clan cats, ears perked and voices hushed. Thornclaw stood beside him, close enough for his mane to brush against Firestar’s pelt. Somewhere nearby, Bramblepaw was whispering fighting advice to what Firestar guessed was another apprentice, going by their shaky, youthful voice that responded. Every other voice was unfamiliar.
“Think they’re coming?” someone whispered.
Firestar’s ears unconsciously pulled back. WindClan’s warriors had stayed behind for the faux-fight and to help mark the Clans’ allies with mud, while the rest of the Clans (and WindClan’s apprentices) were waiting in the tunnels. Nothing could be heard from the outside but the wind—always present on these moors, but significantly louder than Firestar remembered it usually being. It delivered no scents, no indication of what was going on out there. Nothing.
“You okay, sir?” Thornclaw murmured.
Firestar looked up at him, momentarily confused by the concern in his eyes, until it occurred to him that he was trembling.
“I’ll live,” he replied, unable to raise his voice above “barely audible”.
There was a slight pause before Thornclaw shifted his weight to carefully lean into Firestar’s side. The contact was faint, but it was just enough pressure to relax some of Firestar’s muscles. He took in a breath and returned the gesture. He said nothing more.
He had no idea how long he was underground, waiting as the wind picked up and invaded the tunnels, whirling around briefly and rustling pelts before dying with a cough of dust. It was shorter than the wait for the dog in the first nights of Firestar’s leadership, but not much less agonizing. He was struck by the urge to jump out into the open and run as fast as he could for the Barn. Or just drop dead before the fight began. Either one was preferable.
Gradually, though, the wind did bring them something: faint screeches and yowls from down the hill.
“Get ready,” Rookstar said somewhere around one of the tunnel’s bends.
The message was repeated in whispers down the line. Cats who were sitting stood up and braced their limbs for a jump.
Steadily, the noise grew louder. The wind that coursed up the hill competed to be heard, growing into a howl that made Firestar fight to not shake even harder. It wasn’t too long before grass rustled closer and closer, taunting shouts and whoops from unfamiliar voices following.
Footsteps passed overhead for a few moments before another yowl—Leopardstar’s—sounded off. With the ease and grace of water flowing down a gully, the Clan cats rushed out into the open, a seemingly endless stream of warriors and apprentices. Firestar barely avoided being shoved by the torrent, following a brown tabby and leaping into the fresh air of night.
The Blood cats weren’t prepared. The middle of their swarm of fighters had multiple warrior-fountains burst out and rain down on their foes, forcing the Blood to scramble and skitter backwards to try and fight, only to back straight into more warriors. Firestar could see up the hill that the WindClan cats and their mud-streaked allies had turned around and lunged for the nearest enemy. The Blood fighters at the front were knocked over or rolled down the hill, though some managed to grab onto an opponent.
It was chaos. The wind and the battlers screamed in unison, deafening Firestar as he stopped in place and looked around wildly.
“What’rey’ doing?” Thornclaw shouted to him, standing by his side. He was barely audible over the fight.
“We need to find Scourge!” Firestar yelled back. “He takes priority!”
He had barely finished his sentence before a blue-grey molly caught sight of him and lunged, her claws extended. She gripped Firestar as she knocked him backwards, but before she could do anything but slash into his shoulder, Thornclaw had her by the scruff and yanked her away. Once she was off of Firestar, Thornclaw let go and sliced down her face, catching a claw in her eye. She screeched and pulled away from him, shaking her head violently as she backed off. She didn’t get a moment more to recover; a RiverClan cat tackled her and the two went rolling down the hill.
“I’ve got you!” Thornclaw shouted, returning to Firestar’s side. “Just lookeround for him!”
Slowly, dodging swipes and letting Thornclaw grapple with whoever else tried to tackle him, Firestar pushed through the crowd, looking this way and that, trying to locate Scourge. The noise was overwhelming, the wind shoving him around, and—
Why did everything suddenly feel so wrong?
Even beyond this battle, deep in Firestar’s core, a heavy, taloned sensation tightened its grip around his heart. It tugged at him with a panic he himself was removed from.
There was a cry somewhere to his right of, “The moon!”
Firestar looked up, his eyes huge, as the moon’s beautiful whiteness was being devoured by a furious, deep blood-red. Like a film had been swept over it.
The sky was darker somehow. Was Firestar imagining that the space around the moon was turning a twisted reddish-black?
Battle on a Gathering night, a waking night… Firestar shivered. Suriin is furious with us.
Several cats shouted in shock and fear; even a few of the Blood cats looked up uneasily. The roar of battle lessened just for a bit.
Firestar took the opportunity to keep weaving through the crowd, Thornclaw at his side and shoving away a couple cats who charged them. He caught sight of a small, white shape, almost pink in the moon’s glaring red light, surrounded on all sides by fighting Blood cats, and leaped past two familiar black-and-white giants.
Just as the pair noticed him and turned to pull him back, Thornclaw yowled and tackled the twin with an underbite, biting down on his throat. The other patched tom hissed and immediately went to help his comrade.
Firestar didn’t look back, just prayed for Thornclaw’s safety, as he landed in full view of Scourge, who was staring up at the moon still.
Above the returning cacophony of war, he bellowed, “SCOURGE!”
The tiny white tom whirled to face him. His face showed no emotion, but his pupils were round and his jaw was tight.
“Please!” Firestar fought to be heard. “You’re outmatched! Take your cats and go! No one needs to die tonight!”
Scourge stared at him.
“The orders are to kill you, Scourge!” Firestar tried again. “You and anyone who gets in our way to you! Just retreat! You can survive this!”
There was a pause, during which, somehow, the sound around them seemed to die away. Firestar met Scourge’s pale blue eyes, fighting the sensation of ice coating his muscles. For a moment, he hoped.
Then Scourge spoke, and even though his voice was quiet, he was perfectly audible.
“Your Clan will give thanks,” he said, “when you reach heaven.”
Firestar didn’t get a heartbeat to respond; in an instant, Scourge leaped at him and his small paws landed perfectly on Firestar’s chest.
He was far stronger than he looked; Firestar was helplessly thrown backwards with a grunt of pain and landed on his back. He rolled to get onto his feet, but Scourge was ready with another shove and a swing of his claws. Firestar ducked his head on instinct. Pain bloomed with a vengeance across his brow anyways. His eyes stung and darkened with blood as he tried to stand up and shake his head to free his vision.
Again he was tackled, and again his back hit the ground. This time, though, there were teeth on his throat, and a weight of some kind pinning the rest of his body down.
Teeth. Throat. Tightly gripping him.
It was the dog.
Panic overtook Firestar—a fear like nothing he had experienced before stabbed his heart and sent it into overdrive. His vision went blank, not just from the blood. Reeking dog-breath hit his nose as he gasped for air.
Sheer terror clouded his mind. He clawed desperately in every direction, trying to find purchase, something soft and fleshy to cut and drive this thing away. His back feet hit fur and he slashed down with both, hard and deep as he could go, scoring again when the weight didn’t lift off. His front claws swiped side-to-side, and when he felt something make contact with them he dug in fast and repeatedly, gouging with panicked violence. He had no idea what he was reaching. The tongue of that brindled monster? Its eyes? Ears? Cheeks?
The teeth released their grip with a gurgling sound. Firestar scrambled away, clawing the ground to pull him as far as he could go before he shot to his feet and turned around, wheezing delicious, clean air.
There was no dog in front of him. No creature of his nightmares.
A small white cat staggered, his neck and entire underbelly stained a frighteningly dark red. Blood pooled on his tongue and dripped down his chin as his pale eyes bulged, pupils eclipsing blue, and stared up at Firestar in shock and pain. He haggardly lifted a paw and stumbled to the side, balance lost as the ground welcomed his leaking gut.
Firestar was frozen, staring in horror. Scourge collapsed, trying to breathe and only succeeding in bubbling blood out of the hole in his throat. His ice-white claws dug into the ground aimlessly. Things pink and dull maroon were visible, threatening to poke out of his stomach.
Everything around the two was gone. The battle-screams, the tainted sky, the fierce wind. All of it disappeared. Firestar could comprehend nothing but the dying cat in front of him.
“I’m—” Firestar had to tighten his throat to not vomit bile, his voice a shaky whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
If Scourge heard him, he didn’t respond. He couldn’t, really. His eyes only found Firestar’s as he convulsed, seizing up and choking. They held that stare, accusing and begging for help all at once, until the convulsions weakened to twitches and Scourge’s head rested on the ground, now staring at nothing. His mouth stayed open, his fangs glinting red.
The life in his eyes faded. There were no last words.
Gradually, the sounds of war returned to Firestar’s ears, the wind now parting his fur with insistence to be acknowledged. Firestar just stared at the body, unable to move, hardly able to breathe.
That massive white-with-black tom, Bone, pushed his way into view, baring his teeth at Firestar until his eyes caught the limp white cat in front of him.
“Scourge?” he rasped.
No response.
“Scourge—” Bone reached his master’s side and pushed at his shoulder, his voice pitching higher and louder. “Scourge!”
The leader of the Blood was silent.
Marrow-deep fear struck Bone’s face and he looked past Firestar, yelling, “Jumper! Hoot! Scourge is dead! SCOURGE IS DEAD!”
Firestar looked back; behind him, the black-and-white toms had someone pinned down. The one with the underbite turned his head, staring with confusion at his fellow commander, before his eyes traveled down to Scourge. He stiffened to the tip of his tail.
“We need to go!” Bone shouted. “NOW!”
The underbite tom did not need to be told again. He turned to his twin. “Jumper! Come on!”
Jumper lifted his head, his muzzle stark-red. He caught sight of the source of the other tom’s panic. His eyes bulged and he jumped to his feet, abandoning the bloody cat beneath him. In an instant, the three toms shoved their way through the crowd in the same direction, careless of who they knocked over.
More cats turned, distracted by the sudden departure of their leaders, and they realized the source of the panic. Quickly, the yowls and snarls stopped around Firestar.
Then the screaming began. They sounded more like cries for help than tidings of news.
The shriek of “SCOURGE IS DEAD!” ripped through the crowd, and now the Blood cats were fighting to get away from their opponents, scattering in all directions with howls of despair.
“What was this all for?!” a familiar pale grey tom wailed as he limped down the hill, covered in gashes and tattered fur. The sentiment was echoed by several cats, some running his way, others streaking for the road.
The battle was over, the enemy fleeing in all directions, mostly towards the Aulmir. A temporary pause of confusion was passed by and followed with yowls of jubilation, warriors and stray allies alike shouting their triumph.
Firestar didn’t join them. His eyes wouldn’t focus. His voice wouldn’t come to him.
“He’s dead!” Brick’s voice, both relieved and oddly excited. “That went way better than I expected.”
“A shame I wasn’t the one to kill him,” came Leopardstar’s bloodthirsty growl. “Where is he? I want—”
The chatter around the body slowly ceased. Firestar had the faint impression that there were eyes on him. He had turned back to his murder, even if his vision was so blurred with blood and mental fog that he couldn’t properly see the crime.
“Firestar?” Leopardstar again. “What happened? Did you see who killed him?”
It took everything he had in him to fight through his numbing, tight throat and choke out, “I did.”
“You? Really?” Leopardstar scoffed, now next to him. There was a pause, and then her voice softened. “Oh.” Another pause, her voice even quieter. “…Oh.”
“Firestar—” Someone from ThunderClan. They asked him something that took multiple heartbeats to reach his ears. “Firestar, are you okay?”
He said nothing. He couldn’t.
“Stars above…” Was that Greystripe? Something pressed between his shoulders and less-than-gently shook him. “Hey. Look at me. Firestar, look.”
Slowly, with the effort it would take to push a boulder uphill, Firestar turned his head to his left.
Yes, through the red, it was Greystripe. His yellow eyes were soft and deeply troubled as they met Firestar’s.
“It’s okay,” he said, with an almost fatherly kindness Firestar had not heard from him before. “It’s okay. Just– just breathe, alright?”
Dimly, Firestar was now aware that his lungs were pleading for air. When had he stopped breathing?
He inhaled and exhaled mindfully as more cats gathered around him and Scourge’s corpse. Slowly, he reached up a paw, swiped it over his face and shook his head. His vision cleared enough for him to look forward again.
Blackstar and Rookstar were in front of him, Blackstar darkly staring at Scourge and Rookstar watching Firestar with a distant, unreadable look in his eye. Leopardstar stepped forward from Firestar’s right and joined the other leaders, glancing back at him with unusual concern.
His eyes threatened to fog up again. Even his hearing seemed to retreat into himself, losing the sound of the cats around him in favor of the blood rushing through his body, the nauseated gurgling in his stomach, the bile in his throat reaching for his mouth.
“It did have to be done,” Rookstar said quietly.
Firestar didn’t answer.
