Shattered Sky

But as the RiverClan cats gave vent to furious yowling and sprang to defend themselves, Violetpaw could see that their courage was as strong as ever, in spite of their wounds. With slashing claws and bared teeth, they fell upon the rogues, driving the less experienced of them wailing into the undergrowth, or leaving them writhing in pain on the hard surface of the Thunderpath.

The three kittypets were doing their best, but they were no match for experienced RiverClan warriors. Violetpaw lost sight of them in the midst of whirling, shrieking bundles of fur.

“Now!” Darktail meowed to Violetpaw. “It’s time to have some fun.”

Fun? Violetpaw thought, appalled.

Darktail raced forward into the battle, and Violetpaw followed him. At first she wasn’t sure she wanted to attack the RiverClan cats. She remembered Dawnpelt’s words the night before, how her former mentor was convinced the rogues were evil.

RiverClan attacked us with the others, but they were just trying to help ShadowClan. Can it be right to drive them off their territory?

But she remembered too what Darktail had said, that the Clan cats had always been hostile to the rogues. And Mistystar called us mange-ridden just now! We should teach her to respect the Kin…

Violetpaw still hovered on the edge of the battle. Darktail had bounded ahead of her, his claws stretched out to slash at Mistystar. But Reedwhisker, the RiverClan deputy, a lean, black streak of fury, hurled himself between Darktail and his leader. He and Darktail wrestled on the ground, legs and tails flailing.

Roach and Nettle were fighting close together, dealing vicious blows to the RiverClan cats who attacked them. The stench of blood filled the air; Violetpaw gagged on it, wanting to hide under the nearest bush and close her eyes until it was all over.

But she knew she couldn’t do that. The Kin seemed to be driving back the RiverClan cats, and she glanced around to see how the kittypets and elders were getting along.

What she saw chilled her from ears to tail-tip. Both elders were badly hurt: Oakfur lay at the edge of the Thunderpath, struggling to stand, while Ratscar stood over him, battling a RiverClan warrior, with blood dripping from a scar across his cheek.

Loki had retreated across a wide area, covered by the same hard stuff as the Thunderpath, that stretched as far as the lake. He was crouched at the water’s edge, shivering with fear. Zelda was limping toward him, a huge gash in one of her hind legs, letting out whimpers of pain at every paw step.

For a terrible moment, Violetpaw couldn’t spot Max. Then she saw him lying in a clump of long grass on the RiverClan side of the border, the ground all around him clotted with blood. He wasn’t moving at all.

Is he dead? A cold wave of horror washed over Violetpaw, and she remembered how the tom had puffed out his chest when he first came into the forest, boasting that he would deal with any cats who dared to attack the Kin. And this is how he’s ended up.

Violetpaw’s horror turned to hot anger. The air seemed to be filled with a red haze, and her mind emptied of everything except the need to hurt the cats who had hurt her friends. She longed to feel her claws slashing through RiverClan pelts.

Hurtling into the undergrowth on the RiverClan side of the border, Violetpaw found herself face to face with Owlnose. He ducked to avoid the blow she aimed at him, and her claws whipped harmlessly past his ears. He rose up on his hind paws, trying to box her ears with both his forepaws, but Violetpaw barreled forward, keeping her head low, and raked her claws across his unprotected belly. Owlnose backed off, his jaws wide as he gasped in pain.

Violetpaw spun away from him and flung herself back into the battle, hardly aware of which cats she was facing as she whirled around, striking with outstretched claws and letting out fearsome caterwauls. At last she realized that no more opponents were coming forward to challenge her, and she stood still, panting.

A cat loomed up beside her, and she turned, ready to defend herself, then relaxed as she realized it was Needletail. To Violetpaw’s relief, though her friend had several scratches down her flanks, she didn’t seem to be badly hurt.

“You fought well,” Needletail meowed. “But you can stop now. It’s over.”

Violetpaw pushed her way through a barrier of ferns that separated her from the Thunderpath and looked around. The hard surface and the ground on either side were strewn with the bodies of dead cats. There were so many that at first Violetpaw couldn’t identify any of them.

Mistystar stood close by, surrounded by some of her warriors. All of them were seriously injured; Mistystar’s wound had opened up again, and blood was trickling down through her blue-gray fur.