A crumpled heap of black fur lay unmoving between two groups of furious cats. “This is the second ForestClan cat that you fox-hearts have murdered this moon!” a black and white tom hissed, his yellow eyes glinting with fury as his claws dug deeply into the dirt. “Only the Dark Forest knows what you’ll flea-infested rats will do next.”
Standing at the opposite side of the dead tom was a group of bristling lanky, yet decently muscled cats. A dark grey she-cat stepped forward with a low snarl as she raised her tail high into the air. “What gives you the right to accuse us of killing one of your warriors?” she spat. “For the last time, we didn’t kill Spidertail!” The grey she-cat lashed her tail violently against the ground and began to turn away. “But why should we listen to you? A bunch of rotten liars is what I see. You’re only trying to cover up the fact you murdered Lichenpelt.”
The tom lunged forward with a hiss, but before he could cross the border, a white tom stepped in his path. “Badgerfur,” he mewed quietly, “what will Troutstar think of this unneeded aggression? Yes, we’re both angry, but we shouldn’t fight. Both clans have unsolved murders to deal with.”
Badgerfur growled and tried to move around his clan-mate. “Have you got bees in your brain, Snowclaw? They’re the ones who killed him!”
The white tom glanced unsurely over at the MoorClan cats who were retreating back to their camp. There was a flicker of rage in his eyes, like a spark to a beginning flame. “They very well could have,” he replied, “maybe because they thought one of us killed their deputy. They’re gone now, anyway. We shouldn’t fight today.”
Badgerfur flattened his ears and curled his lip, glaring at his clanmate with burning eyes. “Fine,” he scoffed, turning his back, “let’s just tell Troutstar we found him.” The black and white tom pushed through the other cats with a frustrated growl, leaving the rest of the group to deal with the body of their dead clanmate.
|||||||||||||||||||
A young, light brown tabby watched with wide eyes as the MoorClan cats disappeared into their territory. The feeling of tension and rage radiated off of the cats around him like sunlight on a hot afternoon. He stiffened when the larger black and white warrior shoved past him, and his fur fluffed up in slight defense. Throughout the three moons of his apprenticeship, cats on both sides of the clans were mysteriously killed; all of them had their throats clearly cut with the claws of another cat. He let his fur rest upon his shoulders when Badgerfur disappeared into the thick undergrowth that marked the beginning to the forest they called home. His ears perked, alarmed, when a bushy white tail brushed along his flank.
“Thrushpaw,” Snowclaw meowed, “Badgerfur will be over it soon. We need to get to camp quickly to discuss this. Come on now.”
Thrushpaw turned and glanced unsurely at Snowclaw, his mentor. “But what if they didn’t kill him?” he questioned, making sure the other cats of the patrol didn’t hear him. “What if they feel just as scared as we do?”
Snowclaw looked over at the other cats, Beetlewhisker and Lionclaw, who were helping each other carry the deceased warrior. He turned back to his apprentice with a deep sigh. “I don’t know,” he trailed off, his voice wary and unsure, “only Troutstar can decide what we should do at this point. The gathering is tomorrow, maybe we’ll find out then. “Now come on,” he urged, “we must be heading back to camp.”
|||||||||||||||||||
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath high-branch for a clan meeting!” Cats of different colors began to stream out into the opening; the clearing was filled with sharp, surprised gasps when their eyes focused on the body of the cat at the center of the clearing. They murmured amongst themselves, all while staring at the crumpled heap of black fur on the ground with the same horrified expressions.
‘Here we go.’ Begrudgingly, Thrushpaw sat amongst his clanmates. Instead of gaping at Spidertail as if he was miraculously going to move again, his pale blue eyes drifted up to the leader, who was perched upon the largest branch of the oak tree that grew in the center of their camp.
“As you all know,” he began to address the clan, “Spidertail was found by Snowclaw and the rest of the dawn patrol.”
“This is outrageous!”
“It’s those mangy MoorClan cats again!”
The angry cries of cats sprouted and shot up like weeds. Thrushpaw shook his head and slunk to the back of the group, wanting no part of the unneeded madness. Troutstar stepped forward on the oak branch, directing a stern glare upon the yowling group of cats. “Silence!” he shouted, lifting his tail. “You have every right to be angry, but right now it is time to mourn Spidertail and say goodbye one last time. The gathering is tomorrow, we’ll discuss everything else then.”
The light brown tom leapt down from the branch with ease. He glanced over at Spidertail’s body, his amber eyes dull with grief. Troutstar shook his head, attempting to rid his mind of the sight of another dead clanmate. He quickly disappeared into his den, which was a ditch dug out from under the roots of the large oak tree.
Once the silence settled over the camp once more, cats began to step up and pay their respects to the lost warrior. Thrushpaw didn’t know the tom very well; in fact, he never even spoke to him at all. He glanced around, unsure of what he was going to do. After a few moments of standing around like a lost kit, he attempted to sneak into his den without his mentor or any other cat noticing.
|||||||||||||||
About halfway to his den, the familiar voice of his mentor caused him to stop rigidly in his tracks. ‘Mouse-dung!’ Thrushpaw cursed to himself, slowly turning to face the white warrior with a wide and obviously feigned grin. His smile slowly ebbed away when he was faced with the stern expression plastered across his face. Thrushpaw avoided Snowclaw’s yellow eyes, ones that seemed to burn straight through his skin. He shuffled his paws uncomfortably before looking up at him sheepishly.
“Thrushpaw,” Snowclaw meowed curtly, “just where do you think you’re going?”
'Ugh,' the apprentice groaned inwardly, before forcing himself to meet the eyes of the white tom. He sighed, as if preparing to make a speech to the entire clan. "I didn't know Spidertail," he began reluctantly, "it won't make a difference if I don't talk to him."
"But it's respectful." Snowclaw insisted, his gaze unfaltering. "Just say something."
Thrushpaw flicked his tail irritably before padding slowly over to Spidertail's body. He crouched down and pressed his nose against the cold black fur. "May StarClan light your path." he whispered.
