The Forgotten Warrior

He’s much stronger than before! Ivypool thought, fighting down panic. He must have done nothing but train since he died. What if I can’t beat him?

In the midst of Antpelt’s whirling claws, Ivypool grabbed his waving tail and bit down hard on it. Antpelt let out a yowl of pain and his attack wavered as he tried to tug himself free. Ivypool jumped free and crouched, panting, a fox-length away. Antpelt lay on the ground in front of her, his paws twitching as he tried to get up. He looked beaten. Bracing herself, Ivypool leaped in to deal the final blow, and in an instant he slid from underneath her and landed on her back, half squashing her. His teeth and eyes gleamed as he pushed his face close to hers.

“I can’t believe you fell for that old trick, mange-breath,” he hissed.

For a moment Ivypool lay still, unable to muster any more strength. Her wounds were screaming with pain and blood was trickling into her eyes. But then she felt the senior warriors watching her, curious but not concerned, as if they didn’t really care which cat won, and Ivypool remembered how much depended on her victory. She made a wild, bee-brained promise to herself: If I win this fight now, then the Clans will win the final battle.

Ivypool pictured Dovewing, Firestar, and all her Clanmates, and the images gave her a surge of strength, right to the end of her claws. She heaved herself up, throwing Antpelt off. Before he could find his feet, she landed hard on top of him, slamming him to the ground. Then she lifted one paw, ready to rip his belly open from throat to tail.

Fear flashed into Antpelt’s eyes, but Ivypool looked away. It was too late for her to back down—and too late to save Antpelt from the final battle any other way. Ivypool’s paw sliced down, and she felt warm blood welling between her pads. Antpelt spasmed once, then lay very still. His outline wavered, as if Ivypool were seeing him underwater. Then she realized that she could see the withered grass beneath him, and a pool of dark scarlet spreading wider and wider. Antpelt grew paler and paler, his fur turning transparent until he was hardly a shadow on the floor of the clearing. Ivypool blinked, and he was gone. Only his blood remained, staining the cold damp earth, but even that was fading now.

Did I do the right thing? she wondered, numb with horror.

Brokentail padded over to her. “Oh, you’re a Dark Forest warrior, no doubt about that,” he rasped in her ear.

Ivypool had to stiffen every muscle to stop herself shrinking away from him. That’s the worst thing that any cat could say to me!

“So you’ll tell me when the final battle will be?” Ivypool mewed, trying to sound eager. “And let me fight alongside you?”

Brokenstar blinked slowly. “Maybe.”

“But I just proved my loyalty to you!” Ivypool protested.

Brokenstar turned away. As he padded off, he glanced over his shoulder and growled, “You should have been loyal already.”

As Ivypool stared after him, Hawkfrost appeared at her side. “Well fought,” he meowed. He sounded impressed, and Ivypool thought she saw a flicker of fear in his ice-blue eyes. “You’ve earned your place among the warriors,” Hawkfrost continued. “If you want to know anything, just ask me. I can see how much this means to you.” Flicking his tail toward the edge of the clearing, he added, “Now go train some of the apprentices.”

Ivypool watched him go, then began wiping her paw on the grass to clean off Antpelt’s blood. The stain on the ground had already vanished. Ivypool wondered if she would ever get the reek of his death out of her fur.

A heartbeat later she was aware of another cat approaching, and looked up to see Breezepelt. The WindClan warrior was staring at her in horror. “What happened to Antpelt?” he whispered. “Did… did you kill him again?”

Ivypool wanted to tell him that she had been forced to kill Antpelt, that she only did it for the sake of the Clans. And I’ve saved him from something worse. But she knew that she was still being watched by the leaders of the Dark Forest; she could feel the prickle of their intent gaze in her fur.

“It was necessary,” she replied with a shrug. “In the end, my loyalty was greater than his.”

Breezepelt took a pace forward and loomed over her. “We may be in the same Clan here, but I am not your Clanmate,” he snarled. “You will be punished for this. Wait and see.”

A cold stone of dread weighed in Ivypool’s belly. She knew that Breezepelt meant every word of what he said. But it was too late to bring Antpelt back. And too late for Ivypool to hide from what she had done. She had broken the warrior code by killing another cat—and she had to believe that it was the right thing to do.