Night Whispers

“In that case, what’s the harm in watching her for a little while longer?” Even as he spoke, doubt pricked his pelt. Ivypaw was only an apprentice. Whatever was going on in the Place of No Stars, she was out of her depth.

“What if she gets badly hurt?” Dovepaw snapped. “How would you feel, knowing you could have stopped her and didn’t?” She turned and kicked through the snow.

There was no time to reason with her. They were nearing the elderberry bush where the fox hole was hidden. Lionblaze padded ahead and signaled with his tail. “Hide under that holly bush and listen out in case there’s trouble.”

Fur bristled along Dovepaw’s spine. “Be careful,” she whispered.

“I’ll be okay, but just in case anything goes wrong, get back to camp and get help.”

She nodded.

Lionblaze turned away and opened his mouth, letting fox scent bathe his tongue. Dovepaw’s arguing had distracted him, interfered with his focus. The fox invaded our territory, he reminded himself. It had attacked the camp. Kits could have been killed. Anger started to bubble beneath his pelt, and he ducked under the elderberry bush and crept toward the fox hole.

There were no fresh paw prints leading from the hole. It must be inside. He peered into the darkness, wrinkling his nose at the stench. His paws itched with foreboding. The hole disappeared into blackness. Every hair in his pelt stiffened.

I’ll draw the fox out.

He crouched at the entrance and gave a sharp, angry yowl.

Silence.

Coward!

Then he remembered with a flash of fury that this fox preferred attacking defenseless kits. He crouched lower, stretching forward. Swallowing against the rank odor, he gave a weak, whimpering yowl.

He pricked his ears. Nothing.

Tentatively, he climbed over the lip of the hole and crept into the darkness. The snow turned to earth beneath his belly as he slithered in. The fox stench was suffocating. He held his breath and crawled farther into the pitch-black lair.

Pain seared his tail as sharp teeth clamped it and dragged him backward. He scrabbled at the earth, struggling to turn, but the fox had caught him, and with a growl it hauled him from the hole and flung him out into the snow. Lionblaze sprang to his paws and faced the fox as it slunk out from under the elderberry bush. It stared back at him, its black eyes bright with hatred. Its snout was still scarred from yesterday’s battle.

Lionblaze stood his ground, hissing. The fox showed its teeth. Then it rushed at him. Lionblaze reared up, meeting it with a flurry of swipes. But the weight of the fox hurled him backward. Lionblaze landed with a thump that knocked his breath away. He twisted, tail thrashing as he tried to stand, but heavy paws slammed him harder against the ground. Jaws snapped at his ear, and saliva sprayed his face.

Struggling for breath, Lionblaze dug his claws into the snowy ground and hauled himself forward, leaping to his paws as soon as he was clear. The power of the fox had startled him. He’d never fought an animal as big as this. He’d have to move faster. With any luck, the fox couldn’t match his speed. Lionblaze spun around, claws slashing.

Too late!

Pain scoured his flesh, and Lionblaze felt his paws lift from the ground. He churned at the air, panic rising. The fox’s teeth were pressing deep into his shoulder. For the first time ever, he feared his flesh would rip.

Dovepaw was standing only tail-lengths away, her mouth wide. “I’ll get help!” she screeched.

“No!” Lionblaze twisted and lashed out, blocking agony as the fox’s teeth stretched his pelt. Triumph flickered in his belly as he felt fur and flesh rip beneath his claws, and the fox let go with a howl.

Time slowed down.

The snowy ground met Lionblaze’s paws. He spun on his haunches and reached out with one paw. Claws stretched wide, he met the fox’s snarling face with a ferocious blow. Saliva drenched his pad as a flick of the fox’s snout sent Lionblaze staggering backward. It dived again. Lionblaze met it with another vicious swipe. Blood sprayed his muzzle, and he heard the fox wail.

As red fur blurred in front of him, Lionblaze pressed his hind legs into the ground and leaped. He sprang high and clear of the fox’s jaws and landed on its shoulders. The fox felt solid beneath him, like warm earth; it bucked and reared, turning this way and that, snapping at Lionblaze over its shoulder and yelping with frustration. But Lionblaze gripped on, keeping just out of reach.

Digging every claw deeper, he sank his teeth into the fox’s fur, feeling flesh tear and tugging harder. Blood throbbed from the wound, filling Lionblaze’s mouth. The fox sank beneath him with a howl. Lionblaze froze, his teeth still embedded in flesh. He waited for a moment.