MISTPAW

Shadows weaved through the forest, pelts dappled by the light of the claw-moon slanting through the trees. They raced over fallen trees bridging shallow gullies, leaping streams, chasing the streaming tails ahead of them.

They came to the edge of the wood, where the earth grew hard and more rugged, the night air tousling her long fur. Dense undergrowth opened up into a rippling lake of grass and hills, like green waves suspended in time. Her hair bristled up her spine, the shadows in front of her exchanging silent tail signals, dropping themselves low to the ground.

The LeafClan cats seemed to disappear into the grass, but Paleface led them downwind. When they crested the hill, the HillClan warriors were already waiting for them. Spitting with blood-frenzy, they seemed to materialize out of the heather, apparating from the crisp night air.

She felt the claws in her flank before she saw her attacker, rolling over clawing and spitting as a cacophony of screeches and battle cries exploded around her.

A weight crushed the air out of her chest, pinning her to the grass. The HillClan warrior's breath was hot against her throat, breath reeking of something rotten, growling something unintelligible in her ear. She tried to box his muzzle away, but her forepaws seemed to lack the strength. With her hind legs, she kicked, and dug, and dug, scrabbling at her attacker's soft underbelly.

With a heavy gasp for oxygen, the weight released off her, and she scrambled to her paws.

Silverpelt swam dizzily over her head, the crown of the hill swarming with fighting cats.

Boulderstep wrestled with two HillClan cats at once, one pinned beneath his crushing blows while the other clung onto the large LeafClan warrior's back, clinging on like a tick. Not far off was Cloverpaw, his apprentice, back arched and hissing at an approaching warrior. There was a scratch of crimson across her white face, blood dripping from a wound across her nose.

"Paleface!" a voice cried. That was Owlswoop, but where he was in this scrum, Mistpaw couldn't begin to guess. "There are too many of them!"

Paleface, the leader of their border patrol. He was encircled from all sides, mismatched eyes staring down a broad-shouldered brown tabby with a pelt full of old scars. The HillClan leader who she'd only ever seen at the Gathering was even bigger this close up, copper eyes glowing like stars.

"Our Clan has waited a long time for this day," Duskstar boomed, yellow fangs bared in a snarl. "I hope you have made peace with your home, Paleface. You won't be returning."

Another loud yowl wrenched Mistpaw's attention away. Cloverpaw, once more, her hind leg caught in a HillClan warrior's jaws as she hopped and struggled to claw at them.

It was as if she never touched the ground. Mistpaw soared over the grass, pouncing on the HillClan warrior from behind and flattening them to the dirt. They released Cloverpaw, her white leg now dark and matted with strips of pink flesh glimpsed through her torn fur, but she was back on her own four paws in a heartbeat.

Together, with Mistpaw holding them down and Cloverpaw punishing their face and ears with swipe after swipe, the warrior finally wriggled free and darted away. But when one warrior disappeared, two more HillClan cats took their place. In the blink of an eye, Mistpaw and Cloverpaw were separated again, swept away by the tide of battle.

Up was down and down was up. She could hear barely anything besides the screech of the enemy in her ears, but she did hear Owlswoop.

"Paleface, no! We have to fall back!"

Their patrol leader wasn't fighting with Duskstar, but a tortoiseshell she-cat, only catching glimpses of their pelts through the grass. Paleface went down, and then never rose from the grass, with the she-cat reaching down to grab the LeafClan warrior by the scruff.

Dead? Unconscious? Yowls of victory, not battle-cries, rose up from the HillClan cats, sending a bolt through her spine.

She let her guard down just enough to feel the punishment. Blood sprayed up in her eyes as claws raked across her face, sending her reeling back and blinking from the sting, curses choking in her throat. When she opened her eyes again, Owlswoop had pressed her attacker into the grass, wedging himself in the space between the HillClan cat and the apprentice.

"LeafClan, to me! Retreat!"

HillClan's singsong yowls ululated into the night sky as the LeafClan patrol fled down the hill, racing for the safety of the dark wood.

They plunged into the greenery and then stopped, turning to watch the scene from the darkness of the trees. Mistpaw panted, heart racing, the sting of what felt like a thousand wounds setting in all at once as she finally sat down in the safety of the forest.

Cloverpaw moaned in pain, not daring to set her full weight on her bloodied leg. Kestrelpaw blinked out from the dark and, somehow, seemed to be having a giggle at the both of them.

"You got matching cuts on your face," Kestrelpaw teased. The tip of his ear was torn in a V-shaped nick, splotched in dried blood.

She could've slashed him across and gave him one too, without hesitation. This was no time to laugh. There was a boiling shame in her gut that could've made her puke.

We lost. Again.

Owlswoop and the other warriors were looking back up at the hill, ears trained toward the HillClan warriors.

"StarClan's mercy, what are they doing with him?" he hissed, equal parts enraged and distressed. "Will they mangle his body?"

"Is he dead? He can't be. They would leave him here."

"Then where are they taking him?"

The HillClan warriors were all gathered around Duskstar, the tortoiseshell with Paleface still hanging from her jaws like oversized fresh-kill, their song growing louder to the sky.

"The dawn that was promised! The falling of leaves! As it was, so shall it be!"

"What are they even saying?" Boulderstep said, aghast.

"Some HillClan superstitious nonsense."

They waited, and waited, watching. Mistpaw tried to slide in between the warriors without being seen, peering up toward the crest of the hill. Another LeafClan territory lost, just like so many other hunting grounds since she'd become an apprentice.

When the HillClan warriors left, they took Paleface with them. Living or dead, what they wanted from him, she couldn't tell. None of them could tell. They watched their clanmate dragged away into HillClan territory, claws kneading in the earth, helpless.

"Rogues!" Owlswoop cursed. "Come. Rowanstar will want to know immediately."

Maybe the best was all over. The LeafClan from Close-eye's stories was nothing like they were now.