[TB AU] TWILIGHT -- Chapter 27 (Patreon)

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TW -- violence, animal death

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

The pinkish-orange light of dawn crept slowly above the treetops, engulfing the forest’s budding branches in a pale flame. Shadepool watched, heart pounding, as the cool, dusky shadows of the hollow were slowly swallowed up by the warmth of a new day.

At Tinystar's silent command, the warriors formed a firm line stretching from the apprentice's den to the tumbledown stones leading out of camp. They stood shoulder to shoulder, leaving no gap. Every cat held their breath, and each warrior was still from their ears to their tails - only Spiderpaw seemed filled with nervous energy that she struggled to contain, and Mousefur hissed something harsh that corrected her.

Shadepool hated it. The anticipation made her eyes water. With her claws, she clung to the earth, saying a silent prayer to StarClan: Don't let them drive us out; don't let them hurt us!

“Deep breaths,” Brackenfur's voice said softly. His tail lay across her flank, measuring her breathing. “Stay calm, for their sake.”

Shadepool saw the sense in that and obeyed. Being a medicine cat was as much about presenting confidence in uncertainty as it was about learning herbs and their uses. It was one of the first lessons Brackenfur had ever taught her, and she let his presence fill her with a quiet calm that disguised her unease.

The heavy and pungent scent of WindClan drifted into camp from above the thorny barrier, bitter with anger. Swallowing, Shadepool glanced at the cats clustered near the warrior's den: Sorreltail, with her belly bulging; Dustpelt, looking viciously upset he wasn't standing in the battle line; and Whitewing, who was comforting a very nervous and sniffling Larchpaw. They were her responsibility. She would see them safe.

Sootfur, who stood with them, caught her eye and nodded. On your mark, he said silently with his paws. The WindClan battle party could capture them in the forest if they left too early. They needed to wait for exactly the right moment.

Shadepool glanced at Brackenfur. The other cats could surely make it up the stones and out of camp with some encouragement, but she worried most about him - the stones would be wet with dew and possibly unstable from the changing seasons. His leg had pained him enough this leafbare and made it challenging to cross harsh terrain as it was. She didn't want her mentor trapped in a camp embroiled in a violent battle.

I’ll drag him up there if I must! she told herself.

A bird cried in the forest, and WindClan warriors burst into camp. The thorn barrier trembled, struggling and failing to hold its shape as warrior after warrior pushed through, paying no regard to its careful construction nor how the barbs tore at their pelts.

Mudstar led them, bristling from ears to tail. His limp was still prominent, though his leg was healed. Like shadows, his warriors streamed in behind him - every one he had, it looked like: from Crowflight, his deputy, to Bramblefur, the gentle queen whose eyes now burned with undisguised hostility. Only Robinwing was absent, probably kept in camp for the sake of her kits.

Shadepool took the one chance she had to glance at Crowflight. Her heart caught in her throat - he looked sleek and ready for battle, moving on his toes beside Mudstar. His gaze was fixed on Tinystar, and he pointedly avoided looking at Mistyfoot, who glared at him as if she hoped his pelt would catch fire.

How far would he have to go in this battle?

Shadepool felt Brackenfur shift beside her. Slowly, the two of them crept towards their charges, their tails and ears low to avoid being spotted. Sootfur followed, crouching as if he were ready to spring onto prey.

“Turn back, Mudstar,” Tinystar snarled. He stepped forward, tail bushed threateningly. “If you leave now, no one has to get hurt.”

It was almost a comical sight, standing up to Mudstar with how small he was - Shadepool might’ve been amused if she didn’t know how deadly her father was.

“Any bloodshed this morning is on your paws, Tinystar,” Mudstar hissed. “You've had every opportunity to deliver the cats responsible for the crimes committed against WindClan.” His claws flexed. “You lead a Clan of murderers and codebreakers, and we did not journey so far and lose so many only to settle here with traitors!”

Tinystar scoffed. “You speak of treason while your warriors sneak over borders to ambush innocents! Every step of the way I have given you a chance to back down, Mudstar, and still you refuse. For the final time: ThunderClan did not kill Onewhisker or Barkface, and Emberstep's death was an accident,” he insisted, baring his teeth. The fur along his shoulders lifted. “It had nothing to do with us!”

Mudstar's ear twitched. The hatred in his eyes only grew, igniting into horrible flames. He hissed, “There are no ‘accidents’ with ThunderClan.”

The world held its breath.

“Attack!”

Shadepool wasn't sure which cat had yowled it - Tinystar or Mudstar - but the WindClan cats surged forward like a wave and, like the walls surrounding them, the ThunderClan cats held firm. The smell of blood was in the air, and the battle had begun.

“Now - hurry!” Brackenfur hissed.

Shadepool had to tear herself away from the sight. Sootfur already had Whitewing and Larchpaw up the first of the rocky steps, with Sorreltail ready to follow them. Dustpelt, however, was protesting - he shoved Brackenfur aside when Cinderpelt's yowl split the air.

“Dustpelt!” Brackenfur hissed, regaining his footing. “Come back!”

“You'll have to drag me from StarClan's hunting grounds to keep me from battle!” Dustpelt snapped back, eyes blazing and teeth bared.

Shadepool put herself in his way. “Cinderpelt is fighting for you!” she reminded him. “You'll do her no good if she has to worry about your safety and her own!”

Dustpelt curled his lip, but Shadepool stood firm, her heart thudding rapidly. She held her breath - Dustpelt wasn't the type of cat to back down easily, but Shadepool would do anything she could to keep him from recklessly risking his life - even if she had to drag him up those rocks herself.

Finally, the brown tabby tom lashed his tail and huffed, turning back toward the rocks. Shadepool exhaled, her heart fluttering. She was grateful she hadn't had to get any more forceful than that with her own Clanmate.

Whitewing and Larchpaw were about halfway up the rocky path, aiding one another. When Larchpaw slipped, Whitewing grabbed him by the scruff and helped him up, digging her claws into the stone. She pushed him ahead, nodding encouragingly. Sorreltail was up partway, and Dustpelt nearly knocked her over when he began charging his way up the path, bristling all along his spine. Brackenfur hissed at him to be careful.

“Hurry, hurry...” Sootfur bounced on his toes, glancing between their slow procession and the battle. Shadepool glanced over her shoulder.

The ThunderClan line was holding still, but even Shadepool could see cracks beginning to form. Mistyfoot was wrestling with Smokewillow, and a whiskerlength away, Crowflight was dueling Mousefur and Spiderpaw. Tinystar had Mudstar's throat in his jaws, but Thorndusk knocked him away. Graystripe tackled the golden tabby with a growl, and the tangled crowd of fighting cats swallowed up her Clanmates.

Shadepool returned her attention to the evacuation, her heart pounding hard. They had so little time! It was Brackenfur's turn. Shadepool swallowed her misgivings and nudged him along.

“You can do this,” she told him softly.

Brackenfur huffed. “Of course I can! I'm no kit...”

But he hesitated at the first stone. Shadepool saw his eyes flicker with doubt as he considered his next move. His injured leg trembled.

“Come on, Brackenfur!” Whitewing called down from the top. She was with Larchpaw, who was helping Dustpelt up by his scruff. Dustpelt landed on his belly at the crest of the hollow, panting.

Whitewing insisted again, her eyes wide, “You can do it!”

Brackenfur grimaced.

“You have to go, Brackenfur!” Sootfur hissed, his fur bristling.

Stones scattered down the rocky wall. Above them, Sorreltail gasped in pain, crouching down onto a large, flat boulder lodged about halfway up. Shadepool's heart stuck in her ears.

“Sorreltail, are you okay?!” she yowled, putting her paws on the first step.

“I-I don't know!” Sorreltail's mew was shaky. “My belly hurts...”

Brackenfur's ears pricked. Spurred to action, the golden-brown tom scrambled up the stones like a cat possessed by a bird, his paws skimming the rocks. Shadepool winced as he banged his old injury against one of the steps, but Brackenfur didn't even seem to feel it - he reached Sorreltail in a few heartbeats and had her on her paws a moment later.

“She's okay,” Brackenfur called down. “It's just stress!”

Shadepool sighed, relieved for her friend and that Brackenfur had managed to get at least halfway to safety, but she could see blood trickling down Brackenfur’s twisted leg and her stomach clenched again. How badly had he hurt himself?

“Fox-dung!”

Sootfur's hiss made Shadepool glance over her shoulder. She stiffened, horror creeping up her pelt - the line of ThunderClan warriors had finally broken, and the fighting had spilled out into the rest of the camp. Cats were writhing and tussling everywhere in the clearing, like screeching tumbleweeds trapped in a gully. Dens were shaking - nowhere in the hollow was safe.

“Go, hurry!” Sootfur insisted, jabbing his paws into Shadepool's side.

Shadepool found herself all but pushed into the rocks. She turned to protest, only to see Webfoot slam himself into Sootfur's side. The two gray tabbies twisted away, wrestling furiously on the ground. Shadepool saw claws flash, and the scent of fresh blood tinged the air.

Shadepool let out a howl of anger. Claws unsheathed, she leaped onto Webfoot's back. She grasped the older tabby warrior's scruff in her jaws and hauled him off of Sootfur - only to have his wiggling cause her to lose her balance, sending both of them to the ground.

Coughing, Shadepool struggled to breathe with her muzzle smooshed between the ground and Webfoot's pelt. A moment later, Webfoot was pulled off of her. Shadepool shook her head, blinking away stars in time to see Sootfur sending the older warrior away with a sharp blow to his hindquarters.

“Are you okay?” Sootfur demanded, panting.

Shadepool nodded.

She hauled herself to her paws and glanced up at the stony path. Sorreltail and Brackenfur had made it to the top, finally - everyone was safely out of the hollow. Shadepool felt relief wash over her.

Before she could call to Sootfur to come up with her, the gray tabby warrior was face to face with Softbreeze, a fierce warrior she-cat whose white paws were stained with blood.

“Trying to run, cowards?” she hissed.

Sootfur arched his back and spat in response.

Shadepool's tail stiffened. She glanced up at her charges, who stared back in horror and hoped they understood - she was a medicine cat, but she wouldn’t leave Sootfur to fight all these battles alone. Shadepool hurried to his side and bared her teeth.

Softbreeze was not intimidated. The pale she-cat lunged at Sootfur, teeth bared.

Blood roared in Shadepool's ears. Sootfur crouched, prepared for Softbreeze to land on him - but Shadepool leaped, catching the WindClan she-cat's thin, wiry body between her forelegs, remembering in a flash a move from her journey.

Softbreeze was at least surprised before they crashed into the ground together. Shadepool ignored the way her foreleg pulsed with pain and dug her hind claws into the queen's belly, scratching furiously in the way she had seen warriors do before, as Stoneheart had taught her.

But her foe was not impressed. Softbreeze wiggled away from Shadepool easily, then turned and slammed her paw into Shadepool's head so hard that the younger she-cat staggered back towards the stones, her vision swimming with stars.

“I've seen kits do more damage!” Softbreeze snapped. “What a joke! Does ThunderClan need its medicine cats to defend it?”

But Shadepool had given Sootfur the opportunity he needed. The gray tom had snuck up behind Softbreeze, and while she was gloating, he pounced, landing on her back. His teeth flashed, and he bit down hard on her ear.

Softbreeze howled in pain. She bucked and kicked, trying to throw Sootfur off - but the gray tabby clung stubbornly until Softbreeze begged him to let go. Only then did Sootfur release his grip, stumbling back beside Shadepool, his jaws filled with Softbreeze's blood and a scrap of her ear. Softbreeze spat a curse at them both and leaped back into the thick of things, her striped tail lashing.

“You okay?” Sootfur asked again. He spat a clot of red onto the dusty earth.

Shadepool still felt dizzy, but she nodded.

“Good, because that was so mouse-brained,” Sootfur hissed, narrowing his eyes. “You're not a warrior, Shadepool - this isn't your place!”

Shadepool had no desire to protest anymore. He was right - learning to use one's claws was nothing compared to actually doing it, actually hurting another cat. It just wasn't something that she could stomach doing - the idea of tearing off a bit of a cat’s ear had her feeling nauseous. She turned and began heading up the rocks.

“I'm right behind you!” Sootfur called.

The rocks were slick with dew, and Shadepool found it hard to keep her grip - challenging but not impossible. Her experience using this path and her memories of traversing the Tribe's mountain trails served her well, and it was nothing like her death-defying flight over the stepping-stones. The echo of battle, the screeches of friend and foe alike, slowly drifted into the background as she climbed.

Shadepool had made it up about halfway before she heard Sorreltail shriek from above, a horrible, gut-wrenching sound: “Sootfur, look out!”

Balancing carefully on the rocks, Shadepool turned to look down. Sootfur had been just behind her - at least, before Tornear and Webfoot, back for revenge, had hooked their claws into his flanks and dragged him down to the camp floor. The uncomfortable screech of his claws raking against the rocks rang in Shadepool's ears.

She felt herself fill up with horror. Sootfur disappeared under the two warriors, with only his frantically lashing tail indicating his presence. She heard his yowl of shock cut off, sharp and sudden, and then his tail lay ominously still.

Shadepool’s skin prickled, and all sound fled her ears but for the ramming of her heart. She didn't think - she leaped.

Air rushed beneath her belly. Screaming, claws out, she landed flat on Webfoot's back. The old gray tom gasped in pain as Shadepool's weight brought him down to the ground on his side.

Grief and anger filled Shadepool as she clawed at the WindClan cat. Whether her blows were effective or not, she didn't know, and she didn't care. She was doing everything she could to tune out Sorreltail's desperate, horrible howling and ignore that Sootfur had not gotten up to help her.

Jaws pierced her scruff, and Shadepool felt herself pulled off Webfoot. WindClan scent clogged her nose as she was tossed onto her back. Looking up, she could see that her claws were clogged with bloody gray tabby fur - and between them, just coming into focus, was Tornear, who had her pinned with a firm paw on her chest.

“You'll pay for that,” he hissed, his teeth bared.

He raised his paw, and Shadepool closed her eyes tight. The white cat wasn't here to save her this time.

But the blow never came.

The heavy weight on her chest lifted. Shadepool opened her eyes. A lean, dark shape stood between her and Tornear - Crowflight.

“We don't kill medicine cats, Tornear,” he growled, low in his throat. His dark blue gaze raked over his Clanmates and rested solemnly on Shadepool. He murmured, “We're not ThunderClan.”

Tornear hissed at that but helped Webfoot to his paws. The two slunk away, disappearing back into the battle together.

Crowflight lashed his tail. He said nothing more before he returned to the fighting, but Shadepool knew that his harsh words had saved her life. Trembling, she thanked him under her breath as she pulled herself up onto shaking paws.

Her mate's words had not spared poor Sootfur, however. As soon as she could Shadepool scrambled to the young warrior's side. His gaze was unfocused, staring up at the sky. His claws were clogged with Webfoot and Tornear's fur, still extended as if to strike. The wound at his throat was ragged and open, the remains of him pouring out onto the stony earth.

Shadepool closed his eyes with a paw and prayed that his spirit would not be lost to the horrible shadow-cats and that his noble fathers would come and protect him.

It’s my fault, she worried. If I hadn’t tried to play warrior...

“Fox-dung, is that Sootfur?” spat a familiar voice. It was Silverstream.

Shadepool looked up from Sootfur's body and nodded soberly. Graystripe and Silverstream had Ferncloud between them. The spotted gray queen was bleeding from one of her paws, and it looked like she had torn more than one claw out.

“No,” Ferncloud whispered, a heavy grief in her voice. Her green eyes shimmered. “He was so young...”

“How could they...?” Graystripe murmured, his gaze swimming with emotion. “Oh, Soot...” Dimly, Shadepool recalled that they had shared a mother in Willowpelt - Graystripe was just the type of cat to think of the surrogate kits as his kin.

“Go up there,” Shadepool told Ferncloud, gesturing with her tail. Her voice was heavy with sorrow - she couldn’t fake being strong right now. “Brackenfur and the others will take care of you.” She glanced at Ferncloud’s paw. “Can you make it?”

Ferncloud stared up at the stone path. She nodded wordlessly.

“We'll stay with him,” Graystripe told Shadepool. He and Silverstream positioned themselves protectively beside Sootfur’s body. The big gray tom insisted, nodding up the slope, “Get yourself to safety.”

But Shadepool looked at the two of them and recognized the severity of the new injuries on their pelts. She could hear the cries of her Clanmates as they fought behind her, desperately hoping for one more blow before they were down for the count. Before they were killed, like Sootfur. They would spend their last breaths to justify their place in their new home.

If I go now, there might not be a ThunderClan left to save.

“I have to help the others,” she insisted, taking a deep, bracing breath. “I'll send the injured to you.” If ThunderClan were going to be driven out, she would do anything to keep them from dying as Sootfur had. They would live or die together as a Clan, but there would be a Clan if Shadepool had any say.

Graystripe seemed to understand. “We'll keep them safe.”

Shadepool nodded gratefully at him, thankful for his kindhearted nature and how it had always helped others. With his promise in her ears, she turned and thrust herself into the fray - not as the warrior she could never be, but the medicine cat she always was.

The battle had felt like it had gone on for a moon, but the sun had only just broken the treetops. The fighting was thick and chaotic, fur and blood flying, paws churning the soft earth to mud and stripping out the new grassy growths. From the apprentice's den to the Highledge, Shadepool could barely make out what was happening as she tried to weave her way through the nightmare.

Claws scraped her pelt from blows not meant to land on her, and she nearly tripped or rammed into more than one cat as they charged to a different spot to fight, Clanmate and WindClan both. There was some security in the fact that Crowflight had insisted medicine cats not be harmed, but that didn't stop the blows from stinging regardless. Someone could easily make a mistake, or worse, disobey.

As she moved, she felt for Nightfrost. He was farther away than he should've been if he had only just made it to ShadowClan. He must have been halfway to RiverClan by now if he hadn't stopped to rest - he was moving at a speed that would make a WindClan cat jealous.

Worry crawled up Shadepool’s spine. Had Russetstar denied him, and that’s why he was so far away? Would Leopardstar? She had promised to consider it at least. Shadepool swallowed her nerves.

Longtail was the first injury she found. The blind tom had been fighting valiantly with Brightheart near the nursery, but he was clearly overwhelmed by the clamor and claws, this being his first battle since coming out of retirement. As she escorted them through the thinnest parts of the battle, Mousefur and Spiderpaw joined them, with Mousefur wincing at every pawstep.

“You'll be okay,” Shadepool promised, leaving them with Graystripe and Silverstream. “Brackenfur will take care of you.”

Brightheart and Spiderpaw rejoined the battle, but Shadepool's work wasn't done. Snowstep was next, having taken a heavy blow to the head. He needed Graystripe's help to climb the rocky steps without falling, but Ferncloud was overjoyed that her whole family was safe atop the cliff, and Shadepool was certain Brackenfur would help Snowstep if he were concussed.

As she turned back to the battle, her heart sank. The clearing was thinning out, but not for the right reasons - she counted in her head how many cats were hiding outside the camp. As ThunderClan cats suffered more injuries, the WindClan numbers began overtaking them. If aid didn't come soon, or she didn't get her Clanmates out in time, there would soon be nothing left.

Ashfur and Rainwhisker were wrestling with Smokewillow and Tornear, near the apprentice's den. Tucked into the nursery were Cloudtail and Swiftfoot, who were savagely slashing at Whitetail and Softbreeze. Crowflight was wrestling with Cinderpelt while Spiderpaw bravely faced both Thistlepaw and Weaselpaw, baring her fangs. Bramblefur fought side-by-side with Poppyfoot near the Highledge, backing Sun and Mistyfoot up against the cliffside.

In the middle of it all was Mudstar and Tinystar.

Shadepool bristled in horror. Her father and WindClan's leader circled one another in the center of the clearing, spitting and hissing with their backs arched, uttering words she couldn’t hear over the din of fighting. The lean, skinny, scarred Mudstar versus the low-bodied, ferocious, but utterly exhausted Tinystar, whose eyes burned like pale flames. Both were panting, bleeding from more than a few of their new wounds, and both were unrelenting - Shadepool wondered if their claws had even touched another cat this whole time.

Mudstar crouched and dashed at Tinystar. Tinystar dodged to the side, slashing his claws against Mudstar's flank. Mudstar whirled on a paw, moving quick as a rabbit to strike at one of Tinystar's ears. Blood sprayed - Tinystar had a new nick in his ear to speak of.

It didn't phase him. Tinystar ducked and, swift as a snake, slid beneath Mudstar's belly. He fasted his teeth into Mudstar's injured hind leg, causing the WindClan leader to screech. His high-pitched howl of pain rattled Shadepool to her bones, bouncing off the camp’s stone walls.

The fighting paused.

Shadepool saw the small, individual skirmishes begin to drift apart. As the sun crept close to its zenith, the bloodied, injured warriors of both WindClan and ThunderClan encircled Tinystar and Mudstar, every cat watching in disturbing reverence as their leaders fought one another.

“Mudstar! Mudstar!” chanted Tornear.

Ashfur glared and yowled, “Tinystar! Tinystar!”

The other warriors took up the cheering. To Shadepool, it sounded like the stone hollow had trapped two dozen screeching crows, all clamoring for a piece of carrion at the bottom.

Tinystar and Mudstar did not seem to notice. Claws flashed, teeth gnashed, fur flew, and blood splattered the ground. The two toms weren't talking with their mouths anymore but with their fighting, and it was a sickening yet fascinating conversation. Shadepool felt like retching and wailing at every blow her father took, but she found herself surprised at how well-matched they were.

It’s like they’ve trained together! Shadepool thought, horrified.

It could not last forever: Tinystar stumbled in the mud while dodging a swipe, and Mudstar got the upper paw, grabbing Tinystar by the tail and wrestling him down, using his sheer height and weight as an advantage. Mudstar's jaws closed around Tinystar's throat, and Shadepool saw her father struggle to kick Mudstar away - until his legs fell ominously still.

Shadepool's heart leaped into her throat, threatening to choke her. No! Father!

Mudstar raised his muzzle, which was soaked in Tinystar's blood. The WindClan cats howled in victory.

A dark blur streaked from the crowd. Mistyfoot had broken from the circle and slammed into Mudstar with all her force, her blue eyes chips of shattered furious ice. She grasped Mudstar's scruff in her jaws and tossed him into the crowd as if he were a kitten. Crouching before Tinystar’s body, her entire frame trembled with unbridled rage.

ThunderClan warriors surged forward, surrounding Tinystar with their bodies. Shadepool was jostled in the crowd and pushed to the center, nearly tripping over her father's prone shape, her paws splashing in sticky blood. The smell was almost overwhelming, and Shadepool struggled not to gag with grief and disgust.

As she got to her paws again, Shadepool could see that the tight ring of ThunderClan warriors was surrounded by WindClan cats, with their lashing tails and flexing claws.

“You've done enough, Mudstar,” Mistyfoot spat, her voice thick with grief and venom. Her back was arched dangerously. “Leave us alone!”

Shadepool couldn't see Mudstar through the throng, but she could feel the hatred in his voice like icemelt down her spine: “Not until every shred of ThunderClan has been driven from the lake!”

Shadepool, heart pounding, threw herself over her father's body, ignoring the red, squishy earth beneath her paws. She prepared herself for the worst - but she would die defending Tinystar. Frantically, she tried to count all the lives he'd lost in her mind, but the number slipped away. He was still and quiet and would remain so until StarClan healed him. She prayed that he had another life to spare. If he died now, for real and for true...

She shivered. Seeing her father lose a fight terrified her deeply. He's been so weak, so tired, she thought frantically. He couldn't have fought Mudstar off for long. She couldn't help but worry that his doses of poppy seed had made him so sluggish.

She swallowed around a hard lump in her throat. Was this her fault?

Shadepool stared down at her father's body. Despite everything, he looked so peaceful right now, as if he were finally getting a good night's rest. The irony turned her stomach.

Trembling, she felt for Nightfrost. She wanted to tell him to run away, find Brackenfur and the others and flee - take them to the mountains, take them to the old forest - anywhere but here. She closed her eyes and wished the nightmare would be over.

She reached him quickly, just a heartbeat before she heard his breathless battle cry - Nightfrost had returned!

Shadepool didn't know how he'd done it so fast - he must've grown wings - but there he was, bursting through the gorse tunnel, skidding to a stop in the destroyed clearing. For a moment, it seemed like he was alone, and his solo entrance was enough to confuse the WindClan warriors for a breath - until Russetstar and Leopardstar burst in behind him, and then came their warriors, the thorn barrier shaking furiously as parts of it gave way entirely.

Soon enough, WindClan was encircled by RiverClan and ShadowClan, whose cats were fresh and full of battle fury, their claws unsheathed and eyes blazing. Nightfrost stood between Russetstar and Leopardstar, glaring at Mudstar, panting, foaming from his lips. He was trembling too hard to speak, though his gaze said all it needed to.

Mudstar bared his teeth, his gaze flickering at the sight of so many fresh reinforcements. He glared at Leopardstar and Russetstar and hissed, “You would defend these murderers?”

Russetstar stepped forward. “One Clan alone does not have the right to drive out another, and not from their own camp,” she said evenly. “There has been no proof that ThunderClan has done as you claimed, Mudstar.”

Leopardstar spoke next: “And until such a time comes that we must make that decision, you are to leave ThunderClan alone - or face all our wrath!”

There was silence for a long moment, then a chorus of birds erupted somewhere in the forest. Mudstar stared at his new enemies, and Shadepool could only imagine his rage. Oddly, she pitied him. He wanted justice for those he and his Clan had lost, but Shadepool knew he would not find that here, even if he still refused to see it.

Finally, he hissed, “You win, but only for now.” He raised his tail. He turned and glared back at the ThunderClan warriors - at Mistyfoot most of all. “Cross our border beyond a full moon's light if you dare. You will die for it.” He raised his bloodstained muzzle and howled, “WindClan - retreat!”

And they did - as quickly as they had come, they picked themselves up and left, passing through the massive holes in the thorn barrier made by RiverClan and ShadowClan. Leopardstar flicked her tail, and several of her warriors broke rank to follow, bodies low and tails flicking. Russetstar's patrol did the same at a dip from her muzzle.

Shadepool felt warm breath on her leg. She looked down and saw that Tinystar's eyes had opened.

He coughed, fighting for breath. Shadepool moved off of him, her heart full to bursting at the sight of his bright, open eyes. She inspected him quickly - the wound at his throat had closed, but the others remained. It mattered little. Her father was alive! They had lost poor Sootfur, but, thank StarClan, not Tinystar as well.

“Tinystar!” breathed Cloudtail.

“Thank StarClan!” muttered Swiftfoot.

Graystripe sighed as he staggered back into the crowd. “It’d take more than some ornery WindClan cat to take him down!” he chuckled.

The rest of ThunderClan murmured in relief, and they had the good sense not to crowd their leader as he recovered. Shadepool was grateful for that. She lifted her chin and locked eyes with Mistyfoot, who stared at Tinystar with undisguised joy, even as Nightfrost fretted over her new injuries. Shadepool did not doubt that Mistyfoot would’ve died to protect her father.

“What happened?” Tinystar croaked, trying to move. “I remember Mudstar, and then...”

Shadepool crouched down beside her father and buried her face into his fur. She would have wept if she had the energy, but instead, she settled for breathing in his warm, comforting scent, which was tinged with the cold frost of StarClan’s hunting grounds.

Thank you, she told her warrior ancestors. Oh, thank you! She had almost lost everything and everyone she loved today. Brackenfur was right - regardless of her crimes, StarClan still heard her pleas.

“Nightfrost returned,” she explained after taking a moment to breathe. “He brought Leopardstar and Russetstar!” She gasped with gratitude. “They drove him off. Mudstar is gone - the battle is over!”

Her father managed to sit up, his body twitching with sleep. “Is it, now?” Tinystar whispered, his gaze flickering across the clearing.

“Not quite.” Russetstar's meow was cold and stoic. She stared down at them with pale eyes as the crowd of cats parted around her and Leopardstar, the ThunderClan warriors milling uncertainly.

Leopardstar rasped, “Tinystar, we need to talk. Now.”