Warriors: Legends of the Clans

by Erin Hunter

  Thunderstar shook his head. “They’re good cats, but I’ll feel better if you’re in charge. Cloud Spots isn’t a fighter, and Owl Eyes isn’t as experienced as you are. I need Violet Dawn to be safe.”

  “Do I get a say in this?” Violet Dawn huffed. “I’m having kits, not becoming one.”

  Thunderstar licked at his chest, embarrassed. Violet Dawn had fought off one of the dogs herself so that she, Snail Shell, and Owl Eyes could escape. She wasn’t fragile or helpless. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you, and I’ll feel better if Lightning Tail is here.”

  “Well, I’m worried about you, too,” Violet Dawn mewed, the end of her tail twitching. “You’re walking into some kind of weird Twoleg camp. All we know is that a pack of vicious dogs lives there. And I will feel much better if Lightning Tail is with you.” She looked at him pleadingly. “You’re my Clan leader as well as my mate, and I respect you, but please don’t walk into this alone. I want you to come home.”

  Thunderstar hated to leave Violet Dawn without the very best protection she could have in his absence, but he had to admit to himself that she was right.

  Leaping lightly to the top of the Highrock, he called out to his Clan. “All cats gather here beneath the Highrock! I have something to tell you.” He saw Beech Tail and Patch Pelt, about to be bundled into the nursery, turn toward him with sleepy faces, and amended, “I mean, all cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather here beneath the Highrock.”

  He waited as his Clan, ears perked with interest, gathered in the clearing below him.

  “Tomorrow morning, Lightning Tail and I are going to travel out of the forest for a couple of days,” he announced when they had all settled down and given him their full attention. “We’re going to figure out what to do about the dogs that attacked our camp. While we’re gone, Violet Dawn will be in charge.” He found Owl Eyes in the crowd and continued, “Owl Eyes will act as her deputy, and you should listen to him just like you’d listen to Lightning Tail. And Cloud Spots will advise them just like he would us.” Cloud Spots nodded to him across the clearing while Owl Eyes sat up straight, proudly holding his head high.

  “Good luck, Thunderstar,” Apple Blossom called enthusiastically, and there were yowls of agreement from the crowd of cats.

  “Thank you,” Thunderstar meowed, and leaped down from the Highrock. His eyes met Lightning Tail’s and he knew he and his deputy were thinking the same thing: They were definitely going to need that luck.

  The next day, the two cats passed the Carrionplace as the sun was climbing the sky. The sun was warm, but a cool breeze ruffled Thunderstar’s fur. It was a good day for walking.

  Lightning Tail stopped and sniffed the breeze. “Do you smell that?”

  “The Carrionplace?” Thunderstar asked, his face wrinkling in disgust. “Sure, my nose isn’t broken.”

  “No, not that.” Lightning Tail sniffed again. “It smells like those dogs. But something else. . . .”

  Thunderstar could smell it now, too, and he shuddered. “Strange cats. And blood. A lot of blood.”

  Lightning Tail shifted nervously. “Maybe we should go another way.”

  “No.” Thunderstar scented the air carefully. “It’s old scent. They’re not here anymore, not the cats or the dogs. We should see what happened.”

  Following the stale scents, Thunderstar and Lightning Tail crossed a long stretch of open land until they came to a small dip in the ground.

  “This was some kind of camp,” Lightning Tail said softly. There were the remains of several nests tucked beneath a barberry bush, but they had been torn apart, and the scent of the dogs was heavy in the air. A group of rogues must have lived here. Cat fear-scent was heavy, too, and Thunderstar’s pelt prickled uneasily.

  “I hope they got away,” he said, but Lightning Tail was staring at a ragged bundle of brown fur on the other side of the bush.

  “They didn’t. Not all of them,” he said.

  They approached cautiously. Close up, they could see that the bundle of fur was a small brown she-cat, her face fixed in an expression of terror. She was dead. The scent of the dogs around her and the bloody toothmarks in her pelt made it all too clear how she had been killed. Thunderstar shuddered. It must have been a terrible way to die. And Violet Dawn could have died the same way, or any of the cats in ThunderClan, if they hadn’t been able to get to the trees in time.

  “The other cats ran away and left her,” Lightning Tail mewed indignantly. “Fox-hearted rogues.”

  “They were scared,” Thunderstar replied. “You’ve seen what these dogs are like.”

  “If they were Clan cats, they would have fought to save their Clanmate,” Lightning Tail argued staunchly.

  He was right. Thunderstar couldn’t imagine abandoning a Clanmate to this fate: He would have fought beside her, and, if there was no way to save her, he would never have left her body to lie outside the camp like crow-food. But he couldn’t blame the rogues for their terror.

  “We should bury her,” he murmured. “We can at least give her that.”

  Sunhigh passed as the two cats dug the rogue’s grave. They didn’t talk much as they dug, and dirt caked uncomfortably beneath Thunderstar’s claws. His heart felt as heavy as a stone: The rogue’s death made it clearer than ever how dangerous these dogs were, and how unlikely it was that Thunderstar and his Clanmates would be able to fight against them. Where would ThunderClan go, if they had to leave their comfortable camp in the ravine? And what if the dogs found them again after that?

  The rogue’s body was light as they tumbled her into her grave, and Thunderstar’s chest ached with sorrow at how small she seemed. He bowed his head. “StarClan,” he said, “I don’t know who this cat was. She wasn’t a Clan cat, and so maybe she won’t be able to walk among you. But please help her to find her own hunting grounds.”

  The shadows were getting longer and their steps were heavy by the time they reached the hill overlooking the strange Twolegplace. This time, the strangeness of the dead monsters seemed less important. The dogs were walking among them, weaving their way between the monsters and around the Twoleg dwelling they surrounded.

  They were even bigger than Thunderstar remembered, and their stench wafted up to the cats so clearly that Thunderstar wanted to cover his nose and turn away. Their shoulders were broad, and bulging muscles moved under their short fur—they looked very strong.

  “There are four of them now,” Lightning Tail muttered, and Thunderstar realized he was right—there was one more dog than there had been in the attack on ThunderClan’s camp. The new dog was even larger than the other three and, as the cats watched, he growled and snapped at one of his packmates. The smaller dog snarled back, and soon the two were rolling in the dirt, struggling and yelping as the other dogs barked.

  “They don’t even like each other,” Thunderstar noted.

  Suddenly, the door of the Twoleg dwelling slammed open with a bang and a pair of Twolegs burst out. They were jabbering loudly and angrily, and one grabbed a piece broken off from one of the monster skeletons and used it to hit the fighting dogs. With a howl of pain, the dogs separated, and the Twolegs each grabbed one by the collar, continuing to jabber at each other.

  “Is that what Twolegs are like?” Lightning Tail asked, shocked. “Why would any cat want to be a kittypet?”

  “I don’t think all Twolegs are like this,” Thunderstar mewed uneasily. He hated those dogs, but he still couldn’t be glad to see them treated so cruelly.

  The Twolegs began dragging the two dogs inside their dwelling, calling crossly to the other two, who followed. As the door closed behind them, Thunderstar’s heart began to pound faster. “They’re all inside. This is our chance to check things out.”

  Signaling for Lightning Tail to follow, Thunderstar crept down the hill toward the Twoleg dwelling. He tried to keep a wary eye on both the door to the den and the dead monsters around it, but nothing stirred. The two cats halted by the
fence of glittering silver strands that surrounded the whole Twolegplace.

  Lightning Tail put out a tentative paw to touch one of the strands and immediately pulled it back. “Ouch,” he muttered. The silver was twisted into sharp knots at intervals. “How’re those dogs getting out? I couldn’t get through that, and they’re a lot bigger than I am.”

  “Maybe the Twolegs let them out?” Thunderstar suggested, but Lightning Tail shook his head.

  “I doubt it. Remember when dogs have come to the forest before?” he asked. “There are always Twolegs somewhere behind them, calling and whistling for them to come back. Why would these Twolegs let their dogs run free? They don’t seem like they want the dogs to be happy.”

  “Yeah,” Thunderstar mewed thoughtfully. “I bet they’re supposed to patrol around here and guard the Twoleg den.”

  The two cats began to walk alongside the silver strands, inspecting them carefully. They were far too high to jump. Dogs were good diggers, but the ground here was hard, and there was no sign of a tunnel.

  They turned a corner, and Thunderstar spotted a bush growing close up beside the fence, long creepers climbing up and twining themselves among the silver strands. The strands were fully concealed behind the overgrown bush, so Thunderstar pushed his way through the branches for a closer look.

  Low down, hidden by the bush, the silver strands were torn and hanging, leaving a hole big enough for even the largest of the dogs.

  “Lightning Tail,” he called. “Over here.”

  Thunderstar and Lightning Tail gazed at the opening. Now that they had found it, how could they prevent the dogs from coming through again?

  “We can’t mend the strands,” Lightning Tail mewed at last. “What if we blocked the hole with something?”

  “But what?” Thunderstar asked. He thought wildly of rolling a fallen tree across it to shut the dogs in, but they had no fallen tree and, if they had, he couldn’t imagine being able to move one with only the two of them.

  “Rocks?” Lightning Tail asked dubiously. “Big ones?”

  “But the dogs are stronger than we are,” Thunderstar objected. “Anything we can move, they can move.” He thought. “Maybe a whole heap of rocks? If we could pile enough together, the dogs might not be able to get through.”

  Lightning Tail flexed his claws. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but I can’t think of anything better. And we need to get moving before the dogs come back.”

  “Maybe the Twolegs will keep them shut in until tomorrow,” Thunderstar suggested hopefully.

  Finding stones heavy enough to make a difference but light enough for Thunderstar and Lightning Tail to roll or push up to the fence was difficult, tedious work. Soon, both cats’ fur was heavy with dirt and their paws were sore from prying stones out of the ground.

  “This won’t work,” Lightning Tail finally declared, eyeing the small heap of stones they had managed to gather. He shoved one of the larger stones to lie more securely against the edge of the hole, and another stone fell, rattling down the side of the heap and landing beside them with a thump. Thunderstar sighed and rolled it to a new position.

  “Even if all it does is slow the dogs down a little, it’ll be better than nothing,” he mewed. But he felt dispirited. They had been working for a long time, and the pile of stones was nowhere close to blocking the hole. They needed a new plan. His eye fell upon a tangle of brambles growing farther along, close to the fence.

  “What about this?” Thunderstar carefully bit off one of the brambles close to its root and carried it to the hole. Pushing the end of the bramble through a gap between the silver strands above the hole, he strung it across, weaving the other end through another gap in the strands near the bottom. “If they run into this, it’ll scratch their eyes. With enough of these here, they may decide it’s not worth it.”

  Lightning Tail cocked his head and looked at the brambles. “It’s a good idea,” he said. “A scratch on the eye will make them think twice.” He bit off a stem and followed Thunderstar’s example, draping the bramble carefully across the hole.

  They had both collected more brambles and were heading for the hole again when they heard a sudden bang. Thunderstar froze, the fur on his shoulders bristling with fear. The dogs burst out of the Twoleg den, barking loudly.

  As the cats watched, the largest dog raised his head, sniffing the air. There aren’t enough brambles, Thunderstar thought, his heart sinking. Past the silver strands, through the hole, the dog’s eyes met Thunderstar’s.

  With a snarl, he charged.

  Thunderstar dropped the bramble. “Run!” he yowled.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Thunderstar ran, Lightning Tail beside him. His heart was pounding and his sore paws ached as he pushed himself harder. The land here was flat and open, with no trees to climb, but if they could make it back up the hill toward home, they would be able to climb out of the dogs’ reach. It seemed so far, though. Thunderstar stretched his legs, panting, willing himself to run faster.

  A dog cut him off, growling. Thunderstar swerved and tried to run past it, and saw Lightning Tail dodge after him. But there was another dog blocking their path. Thunderstar doubled back, only to see yet another dog behind him. The four dogs were approaching from four different directions, drool dripping from their mouths as they herded the cats closer together.

  We’re trapped between them like rabbits, Thunderstar thought, panicked. The gaps between the dogs weren’t large enough for them to run through. He and Lightning Tail had worked together to fight dogs in the past, but all their practiced maneuvers assumed there’d only be one dog after them, or at most two.

  “What do we do?” Lightning Tail asked, his eyes wide. Yowling a challenge, he swiped his claws at one of the dogs. It fell back for a moment, but another dog darted in from the side immediately, its jaws open wide.

  “Dogs are dumb, right?” Thunderstar panted. “Let’s see if we can trick them. When I run, you run the other way, up the hill.”

  “Okay,” Lightning Tail agreed, and both cats hesitated for a moment, back to back. The dogs moved in closer still, baring their huge teeth.

  Thunderstar bolted forward. The dogs, barking, surged toward him. I hope Lightning Tail makes it, he thought. He just needed to get the dogs to move toward him, so he and Lightning Tail would be able to get through the gap they left behind. The next part of Thunderstar’s plan would be trickier.

  Twisting himself so quickly that his front paws left the ground, Thunderstar doubled back. With luck, he’d be able to follow Lightning Tail’s path before the dogs could close the gap and catch up with him.

  Lightning Tail had made it out of the circle of dogs, Thunderstar saw with relief. His deputy was streaking toward the hill, already some distance away. Thunderstar put on speed, rushing past the dogs as they charged at him.

  I’m going to make it! Thunderstar was getting closer to the hill.

  A sharp pain shot through his tail, and he was jerked suddenly backward, his paws scrabbling against the earth. His feint had cost him too much time, he realized, and now the lead dog had an agonizing grip on his tail.

  He struggled, trying to turn and swipe at the dog’s eyes, but he was yanked off his paws and fell heavily to the ground.

  Another dog closed in and a second set of teeth pierced his pelt, tearing into Thunderstar’s shoulder. Dark spots floated across his vision. Weakly, he struggled. I have to get free! I have to get home, to Violet Dawn and my kits.

  Dimly, he saw a black shape racing toward him. Lightning Tail. No, he thought. Save yourself! Don’t come back for me.

  But Lightning Tail was already there. In a flurry of claws, he flew at the muzzle of the larger dog biting Thunderstar. The dog dropped Thunderstar to the ground and turned to face the new threat.

  With a fresh burst of energy, Thunderstar struggled to his paws and fought beside his deputy, slashing at the dogs’ eyes and noses. A dog gnawed at his leg, snarling, shaking him. Thunderstar pulled away, feeling hi
s flesh tear, and spotted an opening between the dogs. “Run,” he gasped. “Lightning Tail, run!”

  Together, they sped through the gap and ran and ran and ran. Thunderstar felt like his paws were barely touching the ground. He had never run so fast, without even paying attention to where he was going. The only thing he cared about was getting far away from those terrible dogs.

  Finally, Thunderstar and Lightning Tail halted at the foot of a huge oak. They were among trees again, and the dogs had been left behind or had given up.

  As soon as he stopped running, Thunderstar began to shake. Black spots filled his vision again, and he blinked them away. He had forgotten his pain in the surge of panic as they ran, but now every bit of his body hurt. He sank to the ground, and Lightning Tail collapsed beside him.

  “Thank you,” Thunderstar said hoarsely. “You saved me. You shouldn’t have come back for me, but I’m grateful.” He licked his friend’s shoulder.

  “I couldn’t leave you. That’s not what a Clan cat does.” Lightning Tail’s green eyes were distant and half closed, and Thunderstar realized he was wounded, blood welling from his side. Lightning Tail had been bitten, too.

  There’s too much blood. It’s coming too fast, Thunderstar thought. It was a distant thought, as if he were drifting away, but he felt terribly, terribly sorry. Why should Lightning Tail get hurt helping him? Thunderstar was the leader. It was his duty to protect all the cats of his Clan.

  He tried to shift closer to Lightning Tail, so that he could curl around him and try to stop the steady gush of blood, but he couldn’t move. Thunderstar became aware that warm liquid was running down his own legs, that it must be his own blood drenching the ground below them, too.

  It was a great effort to speak. “Are we dying?” he whispered.

  It felt like a long time before Lightning Tail answered, and his voice was weak and strained. “StarClan gave you nine lives, remember? You’ll go on, for the Clan.”