Shattered Sky

Slowly, Darktail rose to his paws and padded over to Scorchfur, thrusting his face within a mouse-length of the dark gray warrior’s.

“Scorchfur,” he meowed softly, “do you doubt my ability to lead my Kin? Perhaps you’re not truly my Kin. Not every cat is. Perhaps you would be happier somewhere else?”

Scorchfur was silent for a few more heartbeats. “No, Darktail,” he blurted out at last. “Of course I don’t doubt you. Of course you know what’s best.”

For a long moment, Darktail did not move, staring into Scorchfur’s eyes. At last, when Violetpaw thought she could not bear the tension any longer, he gave a curt nod and padded back to where he had left his rabbit, close beside Sleekwhisker.

Scorchfur choked down the rest of his vole, then rose and stumbled away, followed by the other ShadowClan warriors who had been eating with them.

“Don’t go far,” Darktail called after him. “The prisoners’ den needs to be cleaned out soon.”

Poor Scorchfur, Violetpaw thought. He should have kept his mouth shut. Now that there were no apprentices, Darktail saved the worst jobs for cats who had angered him. Poor Puddleshine had cleaned the prisoners’ den last. Violetpaw still felt a flutter of guilt when she remembered the terrible confrontation where she’d gotten him into trouble. Fortunately, even Darktail seemed to realize that the Kin needed a medicine cat too badly for Puddleshine to remain on cleaning duty for long.

When Scorchfur and the others were gone, Sleekwhisker let out an exaggerated sigh. “When will all the ShadowClan warriors leave? It’s obvious they don’t understand how you work, Darktail. They’re not worthy of your leadership!”

Darktail turned a baleful gaze on her. “Don’t forget that you were once a ShadowClan cat,” he reminded her.

“I haven’t thought of myself as ShadowClan for a long time,” Sleekwhisker responded boldly. “I’m Kin now, through and through. I was one of the first cats to join you, while these other mange-pelts were ShadowClan right up to the time you took over the territory. And the sooner they leave, the better.”

She leaned over so that her pelt brushed Darktail’s, but the rogue leader turned a sharp glance on her, making her ease away.

“You shouldn’t wish for that!” Darktail snapped. “We need the ShadowClan cats. Even with our kittypet friends and our new Kin, we’re still outnumbered by the Clan warriors.”

That’s Darktail’s own fault, Violetpaw thought. He shouldn’t have done whatever he did to Dawnpelt and the others!

“Wow, I’m stuffed!” she exclaimed, rising to her paws and grabbing up the remains of her pigeon. “I can’t finish this,” she mumbled through the mouthful of feathers.

Darktail and the rest of his Kin seemed not to be paying any attention to her. Violetpaw carried the pigeon over to the refuse pile and dropped it there, her nose wrinkling at the stink of rotting crow-food.

This is disgusting, she thought. We never left food to rot in the ShadowClan camp.

With two territories in which to hunt, the Kin were never short of prey. Violetpaw was revolted by how much they wasted, especially when Darktail kept the prisoners starving.

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure that no cat was watching her, Violetpaw slipped through a clump of long grass and wriggled toward an elder bush where she had stashed a particularly fat vole. She had to claw her way through the tangled stems, taking so long to find it that, for a moment, she was afraid that some other creature had come by and stolen her prey.

Then she relaxed as she spotted the smooth curve of the vole’s pelt. Grabbing it in her jaws, she headed for the bramble thicket where the prisoners were guarded.

Violetpaw dropped the vole out of sight behind a rock, then strolled up to Zelda and Yarrowleaf, who were on guard. “Hi,” she meowed. “I’ll keep watch for a bit, if you want to go eat.”

Zelda’s eyes lit up, while Yarrowleaf swiped her tongue around her jaws. “Great!” she exclaimed. “My belly thinks my throat’s been torn out.”

Both she-cats vanished rapidly in the direction of the fresh-kill pile.

When they were gone, Violetpaw retrieved the vole and slid through the bramble tendrils until she reached the clear space in the middle of the thicket where the prisoners lived.

For a moment, none of them realized that Violetpaw was there. Icewing and Mintfur lay stretched out close together; Violetpaw could see every one of their ribs. Icewing’s wound showed red and angry, and Violetpaw realized that Puddleshine had not treated it with any medicine. He had not been allowed to. Reedwhisker was curled up asleep. Brackenpelt was trying to groom herself, but the effort of simply turning her head seemed to exhaust her. She flopped down, panting, on her side after a few feeble licks.