The Last Hope

Dovewing tried to block out the distant thrum of approaching paws. Only if we survive the next attack.

Chapter 24

Lionblaze pounded toward the ShadowClan border. Ferns whipped the tips of his whiskers. Graystripe raced after him, Snowbird, Oakfur, and Smokefoot flashing through the trees alongside. The ground blurred beneath his paws.

“Oomph!” Graystripe stumbled behind him, falling with a grunt.

Lionblaze slewed around and raced back.

Graystripe was scrambling to his paws. “A bramble tripped me,” he growled.

For a moment, Lionblaze saw frailty mist the old warrior’s eyes. Suddenly he noticed the stark outline of bone showing along his spine.

Graystripe curled his lip. “Why are you looking at me like that? Come on! We’ve got a battle to fight.” He hared after Smokefoot and Snowbird.

As they crossed the border, Lionblaze heard the screech of battle cries. Pelts writhed behind a low juniper bush.

“Crowfrost!” Snowbird screeched, and she sprang over the bush.

Two ShadowClan warriors thrashed in the claws of three Dark Forest warriors. The Clan cats’ pelts were ripped and bloody. Their eyes sparked with fear.

“Toadfoot, we’re coming!” Oakfur followed Snowbird. He cleared the juniper and launched himself at the nearest Dark Forest tom, sending him tumbling while Snowbird hauled another away from Crowfrost.

Lionblaze slowed. Another knot of warriors clashed farther along the trail. He recognized the pelt of Snaketail writhing among the battling cats. Snaketail’s an elder! But we can’t get distracted by skirmishes. Blackstar needs us. “We have to get to the camp,” he urged Graystripe.

“Snaketail needs help,” Smokefoot called.

“Then help him.” Lionblaze veered off the trail and cut through brambles, taking the straightest route. “Come on, Graystripe.”

As the pines thickened, Lionblaze heard wailing. Brambles rose ahead. The ShadowClan camp. Holes had been torn in the boundary. Outside, the bracken was crushed and spattered with blood. Swallowing against the stench of fear and Dark Forest scent, Lionblaze ducked through a gap in the brambles.

Injured cats littered the clearing. Pinenose, a black queen, wailed over the small, lifeless body of a kit. Tawnypelt weaved around her Clanmate, her gaze sharp with horror. Four Dark Forest warriors paced at the far end of the camp, watching the Clan like foxes waiting for cornered prey to wear itself out.

A ragged line of ShadowClan warriors faced them. Emberfoot, Gorsetail, and Furzepelt of WindClan stood with Ratscar and Tawnypelt. Hollowflight, Robinwing, and Petalfur swelled their ranks.

Graystripe scrambled to a halt beside Lionblaze. “Why isn’t ShadowClan fighting back?” he panted.

“Do you want us to lose more warriors?” Littlecloud squeaked as he dashed past, darting from one wounded Clanmate to the next. “Blackstar’s lost a life.” The ShadowClan medicine cat paused beside Scorchfur, who was lying on his side, blood pooling at his belly. He pressed down on the wound, but blood bubbled around his paws. “I’m running out of supplies!” Panic edged his mew.

Graystripe strode forward. “You need moss.” He beckoned to Kinkfur trembling at the edge of the clearing. “Go and find some!” he ordered. “As much as you can carry.”

She darted away, her eyes lighting up as though she was relieved to know what to do.

“Cedarheart! Whitewater!” Graystripe called to the elders crouching beneath the battered brambles. “Find cobwebs! There are wounds to dress!”

An ominous growl sounded from the head of the clearing and Lionblaze saw a flash of fur. One of the Dark Forest warriors crashed through the ShadowClan line and hurled himself at Graystripe.

Graystripe met him with a swipe that slammed the tom backward. “You’d better wait for backup before you try taking us on,” he growled.

The tom glared at him, but slunk back toward his Clanmates.

“They’re waiting for the next wave to come.” Lionblaze leaned toward Littlecloud. “You need to patch up as many of these cats as you can. They have to keep fighting.”

Scorchfur lifted his head weakly. “I’ll fight to the death if I have to.”

Lionblaze scanned the camp again. “Where’s the ThunderClan patrol?” There was no sign of Sorreltail, Thornclaw, or Spiderleg.

Littlecloud didn’t look up from his patient. “They must have chased Dark Forest warriors into the forest.”

Cedarheart raced toward him, his forepaw wadded with cobweb. “Here!” He held it out for Littlecloud to unwrap. “Whitewater’s bringing more. The hollow tree’s thick with it.”

Kinkfur ran across the clearing and dropped a bundle of dripping moss beside Littlecloud.

“Thanks.” Littlecloud began wrapping cobweb over Scorchfur’s wound, the tension in his shoulders easing as the blood stopped pulsing. “Get more.”

As Kinkfur raced away Littlecloud pawed the moss closer; Scorchfur twisted and lapped at it thirstily.