Shattered Sky

by Erin Hunter

  “I’m too nervous to eat,” Loki mewed.

  “Quiet!” Darktail padded over, and Violetpaw’s belly lurched as she realized he had been close enough to hear the kittypets’ soft voices. “There’ll be plenty to eat after we defeat RiverClan. Once we have our victory, we’ll have a great big feast.”

  Zelda gave an excited little bounce. “Oh, I love feasts! When I lived with my housefolk, they had feasts sometimes, with scraps of all different kinds of food. They played a game with me: they’d put my feast into the garbage can, and I had to hunt for it. It was fun!”

  Violetpaw glimpsed a flash of anger in Darktail’s eyes, as if he would have liked to claw the flighty little kittypet’s ear off. “Be quiet now,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “It’s time to claim our new territory.”

  With a gesture of his tail, Darktail beckoned the three kittypets a few paw steps away from Violetpaw. Sleekwhisker padded up with the two ShadowClan elders, then stepped back with a nod to Darktail.

  “Right,” Darktail meowed. “This is the plan. You three kittypets will be going in first, along with the elders.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Violetpaw asked without thinking. Her belly cramped with fear as Darktail turned a menacing gaze on her, and she realized she shouldn’t have questioned her leader. “I—I mean,” she stammered, “the kittypets don’t have any battle experience, and the elders are . . . well, elder.”

  Darktail paused before replying. Violetpaw noticed the three kittypets exchanging glances of alarm, while the two elders were listening with grim expressions.

  “It’s an honor to be the first cats to attack in a battle,” Darktail assured them at last.

  Violetpaw thought that was a bit strange. Even if that’s true, wouldn’t you choose your strongest warriors to honor? She was sure that Oakfur and Ratscar hadn’t fought in a battle for ShadowClan since they’d retired to the elders’ den. And when inexperienced apprentices went into battle, they fought beside their mentors. But she didn’t dare say anything more to Darktail. After all, it’s different with the Kin.

  “You, Violetpaw, will have the greatest honor of all,” Darktail continued smoothly. “You will fight at my side.”

  Even weirder, Violetpaw thought. Why does he want me at his side?

  But she had no time to work out what Darktail intended. The bushes at the other side of the Thunderpath rustled, and a group of RiverClan cats stepped out into the open.

  By this time the dawn light had strengthened, and a glow in the sky over WindClan territory showed where the sun would rise. There was enough light for Violetpaw to see that the RiverClan leader, Mistystar, was in the lead, her gray-blue fur gleaming except for the dark gash along her side where she had been wounded in the previous battle.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded. “My dawn patrol reported a large group of cats along our border. What are you doing here?” When Darktail didn’t reply at once, she lashed her tail and added, “RiverClan wants nothing to do with you mange-ridden rogues! Be gone!”

  In spite of Mistystar’s challenging tone, Violetpaw could see confusion in her blue eyes. It made her realize how strange Darktail’s behavior was, that it was quite outside a Clan leader’s experience.

  Still Darktail didn’t attempt to answer Mistystar’s questions. Instead he let out a deep-throated caterwaul. “Kin! Attack!”

  At once Zelda, Max and Loki sprang forward, with the two elders lumbering after them. Violetpaw could tell that the kittypets didn’t have much of an idea what they were supposed to do in a fight. Zelda opened her jaws wide, but what came out was more like a squeak than a challenging roar.

  Violetpaw wanted to follow her friends and help them, but as she bunched her muscles to hurl herself forward, Darktail blocked her path with his tail.

  “Not yet,” he mewed.

  On the opposite side of the Thunderpath, the RiverClan warriors stared in amazement, exchanging confused glances as if they didn’t know what to do about an attack from confused kittypets.

  “Time to show what you’re made of, my Kin!” Darktail raised his voice again in a yowl. “Time to tell these Clan cats they can’t mess with us! The winner of this battle takes the territory!”

  Spurred on by his leader’s orders, Scorchfur was the first of the Kin to race forward, taking a swipe at Beetlewhisker’s nose. Blood sprayed out into the air, and Beetlewhisker let out a screech.

  As if at a signal, the RiverClan cats seemed to realize that the attack wasn’t absurd after all.

  They know it’s really happening, Violetpaw thought. They can see they’re in danger of losing their camp.

  Darktail had explained the day before that the RiverClan cats would be at a serious disadvantage: their numbers were about equal since more rogues had come to join the Kin, but RiverClan had taken more serious injuries in the previous battle. Their leader, Mistystar herself, still wasn’t fully recovered.

  But as the RiverClan cats gave vent to furious yowling and sprang to defend themselves, Violetpaw could see that their courage was as strong as ever, in spite of their wounds. With slashing claws and bared teeth, they fell upon the rogues, driving the less experienced of them wailing into the undergrowth, or leaving them writhing in pain on the hard surface of the Thunderpath.

  The three kittypets were doing their best, but they were no match for experienced RiverClan warriors. Violetpaw lost sight of them in the midst of whirling, shrieking bundles of fur.

  “Now!” Darktail meowed to Violetpaw. “It’s time to have some fun.”

  Fun? Violetpaw thought, appalled.

  Darktail raced forward into the battle, and Violetpaw followed him. At first she wasn’t sure she wanted to attack the RiverClan cats. She remembered Dawnpelt’s words the night before, how her former mentor was convinced the rogues were evil.

  RiverClan attacked us with the others, but they were just trying to help ShadowClan. Can it be right to drive them off their territory?

  But she remembered too what Darktail had said, that the Clan cats had always been hostile to the rogues. And Mistystar called us mange-ridden just now! We should teach her to respect the Kin. . . .

  Violetpaw still hovered on the edge of the battle. Darktail had bounded ahead of her, his claws stretched out to slash at Mistystar. But Reedwhisker, the RiverClan deputy, a lean, black streak of fury, hurled himself between Darktail and his leader. He and Darktail wrestled on the ground, legs and tails flailing.

  Roach and Nettle were fighting close together, dealing vicious blows to the RiverClan cats who attacked them. The stench of blood filled the air; Violetpaw gagged on it, wanting to hide under the nearest bush and close her eyes until it was all over.

  But she knew she couldn’t do that. The Kin seemed to be driving back the RiverClan cats, and she glanced around to see how the kittypets and elders were getting along.

  What she saw chilled her from ears to tail-tip. Both elders were badly hurt: Oakfur lay at the edge of the Thunderpath, struggling to stand, while Ratscar stood over him, battling a RiverClan warrior, with blood dripping from a scar across his cheek.

  Loki had retreated across a wide area, covered by the same hard stuff as the Thunderpath, that stretched as far as the lake. He was crouched at the water’s edge, shivering with fear. Zelda was limping toward him, a huge gash in one of her hind legs, letting out whimpers of pain at every paw step.

  For a terrible moment, Violetpaw couldn’t spot Max. Then she saw him lying in a clump of long grass on the RiverClan side of the border, the ground all around him clotted with blood. He wasn’t moving at all.

  Is he dead? A cold wave of horror washed over Violetpaw, and she remembered how the tom had puffed out his chest when he first came into the forest, boasting that he would deal with any cats who dared to attack the Kin. And this is how he’s ended up.

  Violetpaw’s horror turned to hot anger. The air seemed to be filled with a red haze, and her mind emptied of everything except the need to hurt the cats who had hurt her friends.
She longed to feel her claws slashing through RiverClan pelts.

  Hurtling into the undergrowth on the RiverClan side of the border, Violetpaw found herself face to face with Owlnose. He ducked to avoid the blow she aimed at him, and her claws whipped harmlessly past his ears. He rose up on his hind paws, trying to box her ears with both his forepaws, but Violetpaw barreled forward, keeping her head low, and raked her claws across his unprotected belly. Owlnose backed off, his jaws wide as he gasped in pain.

  Violetpaw spun away from him and flung herself back into the battle, hardly aware of which cats she was facing as she whirled around, striking with outstretched claws and letting out fearsome caterwauls. At last she realized that no more opponents were coming forward to challenge her, and she stood still, panting.

  A cat loomed up beside her, and she turned, ready to defend herself, then relaxed as she realized it was Needletail. To Violetpaw’s relief, though her friend had several scratches down her flanks, she didn’t seem to be badly hurt.

  “You fought well,” Needletail meowed. “But you can stop now. It’s over.”

  Violetpaw pushed her way through a barrier of ferns that separated her from the Thunderpath and looked around. The hard surface and the ground on either side were strewn with the bodies of dead cats. There were so many that at first Violetpaw couldn’t identify any of them.

  Mistystar stood close by, surrounded by some of her warriors. All of them were seriously injured; Mistystar’s wound had opened up again, and blood was trickling down through her blue-gray fur.

  The Kin have won, Violetpaw thought, and wondered why she didn’t feel more triumphant.

  Mistystar bent her head to sniff at the body of a russet tabby tom, who lay stretched out with a gaping wound in his throat. “Foxnose,” Mistystar whispered. “You didn’t deserve this. Heronwing, too,” she added, her voice shaking as she turned toward a gray-and-black warrior whose limp body was huddled nearby. “You fought so bravely.”

  “Petalfur and Shadepelt are dead, too.” A tortoiseshell elder—Violetpaw remembered that her name was Mosspelt—came staggering up, with blood smeared over her white chest fur. She halted beside her Clan leader and pressed her nose into Mistystar’s shoulder fur. Violetpaw turned aside, unable to go on witnessing their grief.

  Now the sun had fully risen, casting a reddish glow across the landscape. By the light of it, Violetpaw spotted Darktail standing in the middle of the Thunderpath. His white pelt was soaked in blood, scarlet with it, and at first Violetpaw thought that he too must have been badly wounded. But then, seeing his firm stance and the proud angle of his head, she realized that the blood was not his own.

  As she watched, Darktail raised one of his paws to his mouth and licked off a clot of thick red blood. He flung back his head and let out a yowl of victory. All around him, the rest of the Kin joined in.

  Before the caterwauling died away, Violetpaw noticed a limp, black-furred body lying on the ground close beside her. The dead cat’s throat was torn out, and the earth around her was drenched in her blood. With a start of horror, Violetpaw recognized Pinenose, the cat who had fostered her when she first arrived in ShadowClan.

  “Oh, Pinenose,” Violetpaw whispered sadly, “you never showed me much love, but you took care of me when I was a stranger in your Clan. I’m sorry you had to die.”

  “Mistystar,” Darktail began, while Violetpaw was still staring at her foster mother’s body, “it’s time to take your mange-ridden Clan out of here. This is Kin territory now.”

  Mistystar glared at him with hatred in her blue eyes. “We’ll go,” she snarled. “You give us no choice. But we’ll be back.”

  Darktail flicked his tail dismissively. “I’m terrified.”

  Mistystar called her warriors together, and those who were not so badly injured began helping the seriously wounded cats to stand, with Mothwing and Willowshine quickly packing cobwebs onto the worst of their gashes.

  Violetpaw spotted Reedwhisker, who had leaped in to defend his leader and now lay on one side, panting with his eyes half closed. Icewing’s white pelt was half clawed off, her wounds showing red and angry, while one of Brackenpelt’s ears was shredded, and she held one forepaw off the ground as she tottered upright. Mintfur looked as if he was dead, though he let out a groan when Mothwing bent over him and laid a paw on his neck.

  “One moment,” Darktail meowed, stepping forward. “Where do you think you’re taking these cats?”

  Mistystar stared at him as if she found it hard to understand the question. “With us, of course,” she replied, “so that Mothwing and Willowshine can treat their injuries. The battle is over!”

  “The wounded stay with me,” Darktail hissed, his eyes dark and menacing as he gazed at Mistystar. Sliding out his claws, he added, “Unless you’d like to fight us for them.”

  Mistystar slid out her claws in response, drawing her lips back in the beginning of a snarl. But after a moment’s hesitation, facing Darktail with her shoulder fur bristling, she took a pace back. Violetpaw guessed she was considering the poor shape her Clan cats were in, and her own serious wound. None of them were a match for Darktail; the rogue leader seemed to have grown even stronger in the chaos of the battle.

  Reedwhisker raised his head, breaking the tense silence. “Leave us,” he meowed to Mistystar. “It’s not worth another terrible fight. We’ll be okay.”

  Mistystar hesitated a few heartbeats more, then seemed to realize that she had no choice. “Very well,” she mewed. “But none of you should worry. We’ll come back for you—I promise you that. Meanwhile . . . Darktail, you should at least let us take the bodies of our Clanmates for burial.”

  Darktail’s mouth twisted in mockery. “That carrion? Forget it, flea-pelt.”

  A growl rumbled from Mistystar’s throat as her neck fur fluffed out. Violetpaw thought that she was within a heartbeat of launching herself at the rogue leader.

  Oh, StarClan, no!

  Before Mistystar could move, the elder Mosspelt stepped forward, thrusting herself between Darktail and her leader. “Don’t,” she mewed, her voice low and urgent. “That’s what he wants.”

  “But we can’t leave our Clanmates here as if they were pieces of crow-food!” Mistystar protested.

  “Our Clanmates are not here,” Mosspelt persisted. “We can sit vigil for them tonight wherever we happen to be. Not even Darktail can stop their spirits from traveling to StarClan.”

  Mistystar hesitated for a moment, then bowed her head in acquiescence. “You’re right,” she whispered. “But it breaks my heart.”

  Darktail let out a snort, watching with a gloating expression on his face as the defeated RiverClan cats limped off toward the lake. “Feel free to cross my territory on your way to ThunderClan,” he sneered. “They’re weak and tenderhearted; they’re bound to take you in.”

  Mistystar did not respond, but she did lead her cats away along the lakeshore, through what had once been ShadowClan territory, on the way to ThunderClan. Violetpaw watched them go, half wishing she could go with them but knowing it was impossible.

  “Good riddance,” Darktail growled, a look of triumph in his eyes. Turning to his followers, he added, “Gather up the prisoners. Gather them up, and find a place to hold them.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “Are you sure that Bramblestar will be okay with this?” Mothwing asked as she and Alderheart slipped through the undergrowth on their way to the lake. Two days had passed since Darktail’s group had attacked RiverClan and RiverClan had taken refuge in ThunderClan’s camp.

  Alderheart felt uncomfortably tense, his ears pricked for the first sounds of a ThunderClan patrol that might stop him and the RiverClan medicine cat and ask awkward questions.

  “I’m sure he won’t,” he replied, knowing the huge risk he and Mothwing were taking, “and that’s why I didn’t ask him.”

  The golden tabby paused for a moment and turned her amber gaze on Alderheart. “Will you be in trouble?” she asked.

  “P
robably.” Alderheart shrugged. “But it’ll be okay. Bramblestar knows that medicine cats sometimes have to make their own decisions about what’s right.”

  Mothwing nodded, then set off again. “I’m so grateful to you, Alderheart,” she mewed. “We have to know what’s going on in the RiverClan camp. But Willowshine is busy with our injured warriors, and I don’t think I could do this alone.”

  Alderheart wasn’t surprised. News of the battle had shocked him from ears to tail-tip. Darktail had driven Rowanstar and the others from ShadowClan’s territory, but that felt different, because so many ShadowClan cats had stayed and taken his side. Now Darktail was attacking Clans who had nothing to do with him? Where would it end? It made Alderheart feel that danger could be lurking behind every rock.

  He admired Mothwing for having the courage to set paw on RiverClan territory, now that it was occupied by the rogue leader and his followers. I must have bees in my brain for agreeing to go with her, he thought ruefully.

  The two medicine cats emerged from the undergrowth and padded down the strip of pebbles that led to the edge of the lake. Mothwing halted again, staring out across the water to the distant trees and bushes of RiverClan territory. Alderheart couldn’t believe how tranquil the scene looked, the surface of the lake glittering under the morning sun, when all around, the Clans’ territories were in turmoil.

  “Which way now?” he asked, standing beside Mothwing. “Through ShadowClan or WindClan?” Both routes are dangerous, he reflected. WindClan has closed its borders, and Darktail’s rogues are still patrolling ShadowClan.

  “WindClan,” Mothwing replied. “If we go through ShadowClan we’re bound to meet the rogues long before we get to RiverClan. A WindClan patrol might give us a hard time, but the rogues will claw our pelts off if they catch us.”

  “Works for me,” Alderheart commented.

  “Besides,” Mothwing added, “WindClan let Mistystar and her patrol pass yesterday.”

  “Mistystar went back to RiverClan?” Alderheart felt surprise prickling every hair of his pelt. Since the RiverClan warriors had arrived, he had been too busy patching up injuries in the medicine cats’ den to know much about what was happening elsewhere.