Night Whispers

Dawnpelt leaped on him as he hit the ground. She rolled him over easily and flattened him against the cold earth.

Blackstar’s eyes brightened. “ThunderClan cats think they’re clever, but they’re pigeon-brained,” he growled.

Owlclaw padded forward. “We weren’t just weak in the forest fighting,” he reminded his leader. “In the clearing, they split our line in two.”

“Perhaps we should arrange our line differently?” Rowanclaw suggested. “Older, more experienced warriors must fight beside younger, less skillful cats. Then, even if they break our line into pieces, each part will be strong.”

“Good thinking, Rowanclaw,” Blackstar praised his new deputy. “Before our next battle, we will pair our warriors: Skilled and less-skilled will fight side by side.”

Flametail felt a rush of pride for his Clanmates. To ShadowClan, defeat meant a chance to come back better, stronger, swifter in the next battle. There was no self-pity, no blame, just the certainty that next time things would be different.

Crowfrost had gotten to his paws. “We could keep a reserve of our strongest warriors,” he suggested. “Then when our enemy thinks they’re winning, we can send a new wave to crush them.”

“Good thinking.” Rowanclaw nodded slowly. “Strategy is all very well, but we mustn’t forget that fighting skills are what win the battle in the end.” He turned to Pinepaw. “You were knocked aside by Hazeltail,” he reminded the young cat.

“She’s bigger than me, and she took me by surprise,” Pinepaw mewed indignantly. “Besides, I was fighting Thornclaw, not Hazeltail.”

“True,” Rowanclaw admitted. “But I think you could have parried her attack more effectively.”

“How?” Pinepaw cocked her head, eyes sparking with interest.

“Come here.” Rowanclaw signaled to Oakfur and Ferretpaw to join them in the center of the clearing.

Flametail watched his Clanmates with one eye as he turned to Scorchfur and began smearing fresh ointment on his scratches. Oakfur was still limping, but his pelt was ruffled with excitement.

“Ferretpaw.” Rowanclaw nudged the cream-and-gray tom into position. “You be Thornclaw.”

Ferretpaw fluffed out his fur.

“Oakfur, you be Hazeltail.”

Oakfur nodded and crouched, ready to attack.

Rowanclaw nodded to Pinepaw. “Attack Ferretpaw, just like you attacked Thornclaw yesterday. But when Oakfur lunges for you, let yourself roll with him, so the weight of his leap becomes a weight he must carry, not you.”

Pinepaw frowned for a moment, then turned and leaped at Ferretpaw. As Ferretpaw wrestled beneath his denmate, Oakfur lunged, hooking his paws around Pinepaw and plucking her off Ferretpaw. Pinepaw went limp, and Oakfur stumbled at the sudden dead weight in his grip. As Oakfur staggered, Pinepaw twisted around, nipped Oakfur’s neck, and escaped from his grip. Oakfur quickly found his paws, but the apprentice was already on his back, churning her hind legs and sinking her teeth into the warrior’s scruff.

“Excellent!” Blackstar stepped forward. “We have learned a valuable skill here.”

“Great move, Pinepaw!” Ratscar called.

Pinepaw nodded to her mentor, her black fur ruffled with pride, as murmurs of approval rippled through her Clan.

Flametail licked the last of the ointment into Scorchfur’s wound. “How does that feel?”

“Better,” answered the gray tom.

Blackstar cast a glance at the fresh-kill pile. “Rowanclaw,” he called to his deputy. “Organize hunting patrols, please.”

Rowanclaw flexed his claws. “What about marking the new border?”

Blackstar bristled. “Not while there is a trace of warmth in Russetfur’s body.” His eyes clouded. “Firestar chose a dark path when he asked for that land back. Would a true warrior give a gift, then kill to take it back?”

“Snake-tongue!”

“Fox-heart!”

Insults were spat into the chilly air from all around the camp.

Blackstar signaled for silence with a flick of his tail. “Flame-tail!”

Flametail jerked his head up in surprise.

“Come to my den and bring Littlecloud. I wish to speak with my medicine cats.” The ShadowClan leader turned to Rowanclaw. “Organize the hunting patrols,” he repeated. “But stay away from the Twoleg clearing. I don’t want any fighting until our warriors are fully healed.”

Flametail hurried to the medicine den and nudged Littlecloud awake. The medicine cat still felt unnaturally warm.

He woke groggily. “What is it?” he mumbled

“Blackstar wants to talk to us in his den.”

Littlecloud was out of his nest in a moment and hurrying to the entrance. Flametail was relieved to see that the old cat was steady on his paws. He caught up with him outside Blackstar’s den, pausing to let Littlecloud in first. Ducking under the low bramble arch, he followed.

Blackstar’s eyes glinted in the gloom. “Did StarClan give you any warning about the battle?”

Flametail shook his head and glanced at Littlecloud.

“Nothing.” There was a rasp in the medicine cat’s mew, and Flametail was suddenly aware that his mentor was wheezing.

Blackstar was frowning. “No warning at all?”

Both cats shook their heads.