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Fire and Ice - Chapter 43

Chapter 42 || Index || Chapter 44

It wasn't long until they heard rustling in the undergrowth nearby. "This way! I smell blood!" It was Sandstorm. Firepaw grit his teeth at the yowl. Sandstorm wasn't the most understanding cat in the Clan, as his first encounter with her had proved. Still, he patiently waited.

Soon the patrol emerged, headed first by Sandstorm and then shortly after by Whitestorm. Whitestorm! He was easily the most level-headed cat in the Clan. If there was any cat that would listen to reason, it would be him. Behind him was Tinyfrost, Peppermask, and Lionheart; those that were the least injured in battle, he assumed. They were good for him, though. All would listen to reason, except Sandstorm, and even she could be convinced by her former mentor.

She studied the ground carefully. "There's a little here. Not much, though. No more than a cut." She paused and sniffed at the air. "Then…" She frowned and sniffed again. "That's strange. I smell-"

""Thunderclan." Firepaw chose that moment to step out, the Thunderclan patrol bristling angrily as he did so. He gestured for Graypaw to join him. "You smelled us."

"Firepaw? Graypaw?" Whitestorm stepped forward protectively. "What in Starclan's name are you doing here?"

"Bluestar sent us!" He spoke quickly, glancing at his friend. "She sent us to get help from the Shadowclan elders. Yellowfang was already there, making sure they were okay."

"I see!" The large white warrior mewed, his yellow eyes shining brightly. "Now I understand why Bluestar told us we might find a friend out here. So they're nearby?"

"They are." The apprentice purred with a dip of his head. "They've promised to help us get Goldenflower's kits back at any cost."

"That's good to hear." The lead warrior looked around curiously. "I don't see where they could be hiding, though. Can they hear us?"

"Of course we can." Yellowfang rasped as she emerged from the peat they had been hiding in. "We're Shadowclan, you know. You're not supposed to see us… until it's too late." She gave the Thunderclanners a toothy grin as she spoke, exposing her broken fangs. As she did so, the other Shadowclan elders descended from the trees.

"I should have guessed." Whitestorm admitted with a dip of his head. "Very well, then. What do you know? How should we attack?"

Nightpelt stepped forward, his dark fur largely untouched by the rain. "Brokenstar will know you are coming. He'll be expecting it. Likely, he's fortified his position within our camp."

"And the kits?"

"That we're unsure of." He admitted, glancing off over the marshy territory. "We think it most likely several of the queens and warriors have been assigned to watch over them. There will be no sneaking them away."

"And the queens allow this?" Whitestorm narrowed his eyes. "Surely they know how Goldenflower and Frostfur are suffering without their kits by their side."

The Shadowclanners shifted uncomfortably. "They do as Brokenstar orders. They have to, if they want to protect their own kits."

Peppermask snarled behind them. "That's sick. What kind of leader threatens kits to get his way?"

"A tyrant." Whitestorm replied, returning his gaze to Nightpelt. "So, sneaking in won't be an option. Neither will a full-out assault, from the sound of it." He considered their options thoughtfully. "What are your thoughts, then?"

"Brokenstar did not technically exile all of us." Cinderscar spoke up from behind his brother. "Only Yellowfang, Archtail, and Crowtalon. The rest of us were merely banished from camp, sent to catch our own prey and take care of ourselves rather than waste valuable resources."

"I see." Firepaw perked his ears forward curiously as the older toms spoke. "I sense you plan to use this somehow."

"We will pretend that we have captured Yellowfang." They all looked to the grumpy old healer, who looked less than amused with this plan. Still, she nodded, giving her approval to it. "We will announce that we have done so to prove that we are still loyal to Brokenstar, and that we can still be a part of his new, stronger Shadowclan."

"His ego knows no limits." Nightpelt added quickly. "He may even believe us. At the very least, he will come to claim his prize. Then we will strike and trap him. His warriors will defend him, but that is where you all come in."

"And what of his warriors?" Whitestorm asked with a frown. "We are strong, especially with these apprentices, but Shadowclan is stronger. How can we hope to beat them?"

"You will not meet as much resistance as you think." Yellowfang growled. "Many are still loyal to the code, and despise what Brokenstar is doing. They miss the old days of Raggedstar. Back when Shadowclan was feared for its cunning, not its depravity."

The large tom nodded sadly. "Those days were not so long ago. There is still a chance for them to return."

"That is why we seek your help." Nightpelt replied. "You will get your kits back, and we will get our Clan - our lives - back."

"Let's get going then." Sandstorm snapped impatiently. "The longer we wait, the more time they get to recover."

"Hmm. Impatient. I like her." Yellowfang grunted. "Come. We will take you to the Shadowclan camp."

The patrol traveled quickly, especially with the Shadowclanners leading the way. Firepaw was glad he didn't have to guess his way across the territory; it was obvious each Shadowclanner knew the land as well as their own paws. It wasn't long before they slowed to a walk in a purely pine forested region.

"Our camp is there." Yellowfang hissed at them, pointing out a cluster of fallen trees surrounded by a messy thorn thicket. "Hide in the peat patch over there until you hear battle cries. It will disguise your scent."

They all crowded in and waited. It was a little small, especially when all but Tinyfrost were warrior sized, but they did their best to hide despite it.

"What if this is a trap?" Sandstorm hissed to her mentor. "They could be telling Brokenstar about the seven Thunderclanners just waiting to be attacked right outside their camp. What if they've been spying on us all along?"

"Spying on what? Tallpines?" Firepaw retorted, keeping his voice soft and quiet so it wouldn't carry into camp. "Only Yellowfang has seen any of our camp, and it wasn't by her choice."

"Hush." Whitestorm growled at both of them, keeping his eyes on the hollow entrance. The two ginger cats glared at each other, their eyes burning green, but they did as he asked.

Then wails erupted in camp, and they all sprang out of the bushes. They all scrambled through the tree hollow entrance, emerging in a clearing surrounded by thorn bushes not unlike Thunderclan's own camp. In the center were the elders, being pulled off of Brokenstar by large, vicious warriors that he recognized. All of them had been involved in both assaults on the Thunderclan camp.

Yet around the edges he also saw scrawny toms and several queens huddled against the thorns, eyes wide as they stared at the sudden intruders to their camp. He recognized a couple of them as having been part of the hunting patrol on Thunderclan territory, the ones that had vanished into thin air. All of them were unmoving as they watched, as though hoping they would be ignored if they sat still enough.

He would never have imagined such a pathetic-looking Clan, from Shadowclan's recent displays of strength. It seemed as though the Clan was separated into two halves; those loyal to Brokenstar, that did whatever he asked and got whatever they wanted, and those that suffered under the cold, unyielding might of the tabby tyrant.

Firepaw leaped at a thick-furred dark tom that was wrestling with Poolcloud, digging his claws into the tangled and matted fur. It wasn't until he bit down that he tore into the flesh, causing the rogue below him to screech in pain. He dragged his head back and forth, relishing the taste of blood before he finally let go.

The tom whirled around, fur bristling angrily. He leaped towards Firepaw. He didn't get the chance to retaliate, however, as Graypaw slammed into him from another side. "Get out!" The other apprentice spat, digging in with his claws and chomping into the tom's shoulder. He yowled in agony, taking off for the entrance before either apprentice could stop him.

Graypaw nodded quickly to Firepaw before leaping back into the fray to help his sister tangling with a brown tabby. Just as he was about to follow, he felt something small slam into his side.

It was a kitten, about four months old and easily half his size. The dappled gray kit was puffed out, spitting angrily at him as it lashed out with claws that were far too small to do any real damage to his thick fur. "I'm sorry, little one." He murmured, sheathing his claws and batting it away gently. "Try again at the Gathering in a few moons."

The kitten stumbled back, evidently shocked by the strength behind his relatively gentle swing. It glanced around, and after a moment backed away into a group of mollies - queens, if he had to guess.

He looked around. Whitestorm was wrestling with Spiderfoot, the two toms nearly an even match in size and strength. Lionheart and Sandstorm were teaming up against a brown tabby that was missing his tail.

His eyes narrowed as he spotted Tinyfrost facing off against a large, brown tom covered in scars. Clawface, he remembered, from the first Shadowclan attack. He had nearly killed Firepaw and Sandstorm then. If what Yellowfang said was true, he had attacked Dewpaw and killed Spottedleaf. His ears flattened as he watched his mentor dodge out of the way of a heavy paw-slam. Now was his chance to get revenge.

Blood pounded in his ears as he leaped onto the tom's back. He dug his claws in as far as he could, his lip curling in a smile as the rogue below him screeched in pain. He reached out to bite into his spine, fangs bared, but before he could do so Tinyfrost slammed into the killer's side, knocking Firepaw off.

When he got up, Clawface had fled into the bushes and his mentor was watching him. "Warriors do not need to kill." The black tom warned his apprentice before darting off into the fray once more.

An angry scream rang out over camp. On the far side, Yellowfang had pinned Brokenstar down. This time, however, there were no loyal rogues to pull her off. Her broken fangs were bared in a snarl as she glared down at her former leader. Thunderclanners and Shadowclanners alike began to circle her as Brokenstar tried to free himself from her powerful grasp.

"I never thought you would be harder to kill than my father!" The dark, matted tom growled up at the healer with a vicious grin.

She recoiled as though a snake had bitten her. "You killed Raggedstar?" She yowled in shock.

"You found his body. Didn't you recognize my fur between his claws?" Brokenstar rolled onto his side and stood up, starting to circle her. She stared in horror as he did. "He was soft and weak. A foolish leader. He needed to die."

"You!" Yellowfang cried, backing up as he spoke. Then, regaining her senses, she arched her back and bristled her dark gray fur. "And what of Dawncloud's kits? Did they deserve to die too?"

"Those kits were weak." Brokenstar spat at her. "They would have died anyway. They were of no use to Shadowclan."

A light tabby queen wailed as he spoke, and Firepaw's heart lurched. How could any cat say that, let alone about kits? No wonder he had discarded Volepaw so easily.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance." He snarled at Yellowfang. "I must have some of my father's softness after all. I was a fool to let you leave Shadowclan alive!" He lunged with his teeth bared towards her, ready to sink his claws into the healer.

The dark gray molly was frozen in place. Gone was her desire to fight, taken by the horrible revelations of the depths of depravity her former leader was willing to go to. She didn't even blink as the matted tabby closed the distance between them. Someone had to help her.

Firepaw moved first, leaping forward to slam into the leader. The tabby landed heavily on his side, not expecting the intervention of another cat. As he scrambled to stand, he growled at the ginger apprentice. "Don't waste my time, apprentice. I have nine lives! Do you really think you can take all of them from me?"

He shook his head in disbelief. He knew some older cats liked to use that saying, but surely this mangy rogue didn't believe in it? "I'm willing to bet you've already wasted eight of them." He snarled back, bushing up and staring him down.

For a moment, it seemed like Brokenstar was actually going to fight him, but then he took in his surroundings. His loyal code-breaking warriors had broken ranks and fled. Now all that remained were furious Thunderclanners and mistreated Shadowclanners, bent on getting revenge. "This isn't over." He spat at all of them, before finally backing away and vanishing into the bushes.

There was silence for several long moments. "What now? Do we go after them?" Firepaw asked, looking to Yellowfang or Whitestorm for answers.

"Let them run." Nightpelt stepped forward, his eyes dark as he gazed across his old camp, ruined by the battle. "They know they are not welcome here. And if they dare to come back, Shadowclan will be ready to face them."

He looked over the Shadowclanners. They were almost skeletal, as though they hadn't eaten in moons. Around camp, the stench of crowfood hit him. He remembered what Featherstorm had said; Spiderfoot hadn't bothered to teach his apprentice any hunting techniques. The Clan had always been at war, with no time for hunting or caring for each other. Perhaps they really hadn't eaten in moons, a thought that made his own stomach churn.

"The kits!" His head snapped up as he heard Graypaw's cry. From what he gathered was the nursery, five kits rushed out, crowding around the dark gray tabby. All of the Thunderclanners padded over to look at them.

"Thank Starclan they're alright." Peppermask purred, nosing over each of them. They gazed up at the Thunderclan patrol with wide eyes that were beginning to change color. "But Cedarkit has a bad scratch on his shoulder. That must have been what Sandstorm smelled when we were coming here. It's not been treated, either."

He sniffed at the group, finding the tom she was talking about, a small dark ginger kit that was colored a bit similarly to him. "Do you think he can wait until we get to Dewpaw, or-"

"Let me see." Firepaw moved back as Yellowfang shouldered her way through. She peered at it for a few moments before looking over her shoulder. "Wetnose! Marigold and cobwebs!"

As if on cue, a small gray tom limped up, his white paw covered in cobwebs and several golden flowers dangling from his mouth. He dropped them respectfully in front of her, allowing her to apply them before smoothing over the wound with several layers of cobwebs.

"He'll be alright for the return journey. I'll treat him better when we're back at camp." Yellowfang's voice was hollow. Even though she was talking to them, he could tell her mind was still focused on what Brokenstar had said.

"Back at camp?" Firepaw questioned. "You're not staying here?"

The healer gazed out over her birthplace. "A season ago, I would have." She admitted. "But I cannot stay. Not after everything that has happened." She let out a bitter sigh as she turned her attention back to the kits. "Besides, Thunderclan has no healer now. Someone will need to train Dewpaw."

Whitestorm nodded. "Thunderclan will be glad to have you." He purred to the old molly. "I'm sure Bluestar will have no problem with it."

Nightpelt approached the Thunderclan crowd. "You have helped Shadowclan in their darkest time, and for that we are grateful. Brokentail and his rogues will never darken the territories of the other Clans again." He dipped his head respectfully to each of them, even the apprentices. "But it is time you returned your kits home. I promise that your hunting grounds will be free of Shadowclan, so long as we can find food in our own territory."

"Thank you, Nightpelt." Whitestorm stepped forward, his voice warm as he spoke. "Hunt in peace for one moon. Thunderclan knows you need time to rebuild after Brokentail's savage attacks."

Firepaw didn't miss the significance of the exchange. It seemed they had rejected the leader and his connection with Starclan. He couldn't blame them, after all Brokentail had done.

With a sweep of his tail, Whitestorm signaled the patrol to leave. Each picked up a kit, except for Firepaw, Yellowfang and Whitestorm, and began the long journey back to camp. At last, it seemed there would be peace in the forest, at least for a short while.

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