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twilights-800-cats · 4 years

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Chapter 22

Mistyfoot lashed out with her claws. “Back!” she hissed. “Get back you mange-pelts!”

One of the foxes tried to dart closer, but Mistyfoot’s paw flashed out. She felt her claws connect, and the fox yelped as it pulled its bleeding muzzle away. Mistyfoot let out another snarl of fury.

Adrenaline was coursing through her body like white-hot energy. Her mind was focused on a single goal – protecting Nightpaw. The thud of Shrewpaw’s body against the stones of Snakerocks kept playing over and over in her ears, and it made Mistyfoot’s limbs plant hard as stone where she stood.

But one cat could only be so intimidating for so long.

“Nightpaw!” Shadepaw cried. “Get up here!”

“Mistyfoot!” Stoneheart wailed. “What are you doing?”

Mistyfoot could barely hear them. A fox would test its boundaries, and Mistyfoot would retaliate, quick as an adder. She felt Nightpaw behind her, his breath hot on her ankles. She could smell his fear-scent, same as it had been back at Snakerocks. As adventurous as the young tom was, he couldn’t face three foxes.

Neither can I. Mistyfoot heard the small voice somewhere in the back of her mind, but there was too much noise to listen.

She felt something brush her side, and she flinched in shock. Had a fox broken through? No – it was Crowpaw.

The leggy apprentice was bristling, snarling at the foxes. He moved forward and lashed his claws at one, making it stagger back. Another fox retaliated with snapping jaws. Mistyfoot’s muscles lurched as she swiped at the creature, only managing to catch whiskers with her claws.

“Get back up there, Crowpaw!” Mistyfoot hissed. “This is too dangerous!” I can’t bear to lose either of you! You’re the only cat that came from WindClan!

Crowpaw’s blue eyes burned. “You’re not expendable,” he snapped. “And you’re not my mentor! So stop acting like it!”

“You’re not expendable either, mouse-brain!” Nightpaw gasped, finding his voice.

“Shut up!” Crowpaw shot back, not looking at Nightpaw.

The foxes were riled, bleeding, and very upset. Mistyfoot saw them bunch their haunches. If all three sprang, there would be no hope of getting out without serious injuries. She planted her paws, eyes darting between the three foxes. Which one would attack first?

Something whizzed through the air, suddenly. It struck one of the foxes on the hip, making them buckle and yelp in pain. A chestunut clattered to the earth as the other two foxes froze, confused.

Just as confused, Mistyfoot looked up. A big tabby shape was in one of the branches of a nearby chestnut tree – and it jumped down, landing with a grunt just beyond the foxes. The tabby tom turned to the foxes and snarled.

Furious, the foxes turned away.

“Git goin’!” the tabby tom yowled. “I got these narrow-nosed varmints!”

The smell of fresh prey overrode the stink of fox. The foxes smelled it, too; they licked their lips and yipped in excitement as the big tabby tom tore off through the grass. The three foxes followed, barking eagerly.

Mistyfoot’s adrenaline left, and her legs felt like water. She did everything she could not to fall over – only when Stormfur put his shoulder against hers did she feel even the least bit stable.

The other cats were scrambling down their trees. Mistyfoot did a quick head count, and felt a lot better. Shadepaw immediately went about chastising Crowpaw and Nightpaw. Stoneheart sniffed every inch of Mistyfoot to make sure she was okay. Feathertail fretted over every cat, her pretty eyes sparkling with worry. Everyone was safe. Only thanks to that tabby.

“We need to move, now,” insisted Stoneheart. “I saw an old barn from my branch. Let’s go.”

———————————————————-

The barn was made of stone, and had a door that was easy for a cat to push open with their muzzle. It was smaller than the other barns the traveling cats had stayed in, but it felt cozier – it smelled of soft moss and hay, and there were nests made here and there already. There was a small ladder leading up to a loft that was shrouded in darkness. No prey-smell, but there weren’t foxes here, and there was another scent overtop of it all…

Mistyfoot’s nose twitched. “Smells like that tabby in here,” she determined. “Is this his den?”

“I hope he doesn’t mind,” Stormfur commented. “Where else could we go?”

“Lay down here,” Shadepaw instructed.

Mistyfoot watched the young tortoiseshell guide Nightpaw to one of the newer nests. The young tom’s back leg was bleeding, and Shadepaw stooped over it to examine. Worry shot through Mistyfoot – was Nightpaw going to be okay?

“Crowpaw, lick the wound clean,” Shadepaw instructed.

Crowpaw didn’t protest, to Mistyfoot’s surprise. The lean gray tom bent his head and began to clean Nightpaw’s wound. Feathertail helped, wrapping her plumy tail around the small apprentice to soothe him when he winced.

Mistyfoot spotted cobwebs glistening in a corner. She wound them around her paw and limped over to Shadepaw. “Will these help?”

Shadepaw blinked gratefully. “Always,” she breathed. “Thanks.”

She unwound the cobwebs carefully from Mistyfoot’s paw, and then laid them gently on Nightpaw’s leg. Mistyfoot winced. The gashes were huge compared to the rest of Nightpaw. They weren’t horribly deep, but the risk of infection had to be high.

“I need herbs,” Shadepaw fretted. “Marigold, horsetail, something.”

“I doubt we’re going to find any around here,” Stoneheart grunted. “But we’ll look as soon as we’re sure the foxes are gone.”

The door to the barn creaked, scraping against the stone floor. Mistyfoot tensed, unsheathing her claws. Stormfur and Stoneheart bristled, squaring their shoulders and forming a wall around Nightpaw. Crowpaw joined them, lashing his tail.

“Hol’ up, youngsters,” called a voice. The plump tabby from before waddled in to the barn, kicking the door shut behind him with a hind leg. “S’just me.”

“And who are you?” snarled Crowpaw.

The brown tabby tilted his head. “Friendly lot, you are,” he grunted.

“We’re sorry,” Mistyfoot offered. “Thank you for helping us with the foxes. I’m Mistyfoot – these are Crowpaw, Stormfur, Stoneheart, Feathertail, Shadepaw and Nightpaw.” She pointed at each cat with her tail.

The tabby tom blinked, taking in all the names. His eyes darted between them all. “The heck kinda names are those?” he wondered.

“Clan names,” Stoneheart responded.

“Clans?” the tabby tom frowned. “Ain’t no Clans ‘round these parts. Never heard of ‘em.”

“We’re not from around here,” Crowpaw pointed out.

The tabby tom blinked at them. “Clearly!” he huffed. “Every cat ‘round here knows those foxes nest up out there! Y’all got cotton for brains?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Shadepaw mewed, “but… do you know where we can find any marigold? Horsetail or even chervil or dock would do, too.” Her eyes were round. “One of the foxes hurt my brother, and he needs something before it gets infected!”

The tabby blinked, as if Shadepaw had unloaded too much information onto him. “I, ah… I dunno off-paw, young gal, but… maybe? I can go look.”

Shadepaw’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, thank you!” she breathed. “Marigold would be best – it’s a yellow flower, with long, thin petals. Dock has big, big leaves, and chervil is…”

The tom’s whiskers twitched. “S’all right, youngin; I think I know where a bit’a marigold grows. Y’all sit tight!”

“Let me go with you,” Stoneheart grunted.

“Nah,” the tabby sighed. “Don’ worry; you’ll just git in the way. Stay put, y’hear? I’ll be back before ya know it.”

As quick as the tabby had arrived, he left, kicking the door shut behind him. The Clan cats shuffled in the barn. Darkness was beginning to strengthen inside, with only a few shafts of sunlight pouring through the stones.

“Can we even trust him?” Stoneheart wondered, staring at the barn door. “We don’t even know his name!”

“He saved us, and he knows where things grow around here,” Shadepaw pointed out. “That’s all I need right now.”

Stoneheart frowned. He turned his gaze to Mistyfoot. “And what were you thinking? You’re part of this prophecy, too; we can’t afford to lose any of us, and you pull a mouse-brained stunt like that? Have you got bees in your brain, Mistyfoot?”

Mistyfoot bristled, indignation bubbling in her. She stared at her brother incredulously. “I will not let another apprentice die on my watch!” she snapped at him. Why didn’t he understand? She pushed past the other Clan cats, ignoring their shocked expressions, and jumped onto the wooden slats of the ladder leading upwards to the loft.

Up here it was quiet, and Mistyfoot could only hear gentle murmuring below her. She flopped down onto the hay and sighed, feeling exhausted and drained to her toes.

I told Stoneheart about Shrewpaw – why doesn’t he understand? Mistyfoot stared at her paws. I feel like a failure, even after all this time. Even after all I’ve accomplished with these cats. When will it be enough?

Mistyfoot was only alone for a few minutes. Soon enough she heard the ladder creak with the weight of a cat, and a pelt brushed against her in the dark. Mistyfoot tensed until she recognized Stormfur’s amber eyes in the gloom.

“Room for one more?” he asked gently.

Mistyfoot only nodded. There was no point in sending him away. She wasn’t angry at the others, anyway – just furious with herself, especially for snapping at Stoneheart. She felt like a petulant kit.

Stormfur settled down beside her, tucking his paws underneath him. “Comfy up here,” he commented. “A nice place for a chat, if you’re willing.”

Mistyfoot shifted. “I’m… willing,” she admitted.

“Then can I ask what that was about down there?”

Mistyfoot didn’t meet his gaze as she told Stormfur about Shrewpaw. She stared out through one of the holes in the barn wall, at the world darkening all around her. When she was done the sun was set, and an owl hooted in the distance.

“I don’t even feel like a proper warrior anymore,” she finished. “And, honestly… I don’t even know if Tinystar will let me back into ThunderClan when we come back.”

Stormfur twitched his whiskers. “Well, Tinystar must think a lot of you – I’m still waiting on my first apprentice!”

“But that’s just it!” Mistyfoot insisted, lashing her tail. “Was he sure of me, or did he set me up to fail? Tinystar was so angry with me before we all left. I have no idea why but I can only assume he thinks I’m some danger to ThunderClan!”

Stormfur’s gaze softened, and he rested his tail on her shoulders. “Leaders often have a lot more on their minds than we know,” he reasoned. “Shrewpaw’s death was really unfortunate; but it’s not an indication of your abilities as a mentor. It was out of your control! You’ll get another chance, if you let it happen.”

Mistyfoot blinked. How many times was she going to let the cats around her tell her the same thing before it sank in? ‘If I let it happen,’ she repeated in her mind. That meant letting go of her guilt. Was she ready to do that?

“I’m sorry for snapping,” she breathed.

Stormfur purred gently. “I know. And you have a good reason – but it was a really mouse-brained thing to do, Mistyfoot. You’ve got cats that care about you on this journey. Think of how you feel when you think of Shrewpaw’s death – don’t you think we’d all feel the same way if we had to watch you die?”

Mistyfoot swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. Did they all really feel so strongly about her? The thought threatened to sweep her off her paws.

“I’ll do better,” she promised, her voice cracking.

Stormfur touched his muzzle to her cheek, and Mistyfoot breathed in his warm scent. The RiverClan tom barely smelled like RiverClan anymore, and something about that made the gesture even more comforting. Sitting with him, like this… it felt like every worry was melting away.

“Excuse me…” a small voice mewed.

Mistyfoot’s head shot up, her heart racing. Shadepaw was peering at them from the top of the ladder. Her eyes were round, and Mistyfoot wondered just how much of their conversation she had heard.

“The loner is back,” Shadepaw meowed.

“Thanks,” Stormfur offered.

Shadepaw nodded and disappeared back down the ladder.

“We should go, then,” Stormfur decided.

No, I want to stay! Mistyfoot cried inside. The space beside her filled with cold air as Stormfur got to his paws. With you, up here, and nothing else to worry about. Just for a little while!

But she couldn’t say that. Though it was a powerful feeling, now wasn’t the right time. Mistyfoot got to her own paws, shaking off a bit of stray hay. Had Stoneheart told the others about Shrewpaw? Would Stormfur? She couldn’t worry about that anymore.

All she could do was look forward – to the journey ahead, and wherever it led.

#tb au #tb midnight

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