Mapleshade’s Vengeance

Chapter 5

Mapleshade fought her way out of sleep, coughing and scorched with fever. Where am I? She struggled out of her prickly nest and looked around. A fresh-killed mouse lay beside her, and Mapleshade’s belly rumbled. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. She bent down to take a bite, then the memory of where she was and what had happened flooded over her and she retched violently. My kits! Appledusk!

“Hello? Are you all right?” An anxious mew made Mapleshade look up. A small black-and-white tom was standing at the foot of the huge stack of hay that filled the den. Daylight filtered through cracks in the wooden walls, highlighting tiny specks of dust that floated in the air.

“Where am I? Who are you?” Mapleshade rasped.

The little cat picked up a bundle of dripping moss that lay at his paws and carried it over to her.

“You need to drink,” he urged. “My name is Myler, and this is my barn. You went to sleep so quickly last night that I didn’t have time to introduce myself. How are you feeling?” He peered at her and Mapleshade shied away. “You still look exhausted,” Myler observed. “Eat the mouse, then I’ll let you get some more rest.

“I’m not staying,” Mapleshade hissed. “I don’t want your fresh-kill.”

“But there’s plenty to share,” Myler insisted. “I can catch more for myself, don’t worry.”

Mapleshade staggered forward, almost knocking the tom off his paws. “Leave me alone,” she growled. “I don’t need your help.”

She searched for the gap in the wall where she had come in. Behind her, Myler was meowing something about giving shelter to strangers and having plenty of room in the barn. Mapleshade didn’t bother to listen. What could some kittypet possibly give to her? My life is ruined! I did nothing wrong, and yet I have lost everything! The image of her three dead kits hovered at the edge of her vision, as if she would be able to see them clearly if only she could turn her head fast enough. Mama, help me! they wailed.

“I can’t,” Mapleshade whispered. “Oh my precious loves, I am so sorry.”

Trembling with hunger, Mapleshade plunged into the wispy undergrowth that edged RiverClan’s territory. She stayed well clear of the border as she headed uphill, toward the gorge. She knew there was a wooden Twoleg bridge just below the sheer walls of rock where she would be able to cross back to ThunderClan territory. She felt an irresistible pull inside her, back to the place where she had spent her whole life. There was no solace in the spindly willows of RiverClan, and the vast open moor that stretched up above the gorge made her shudder with fear. Instead she yearned for the denseness of sturdy trees and thick green undergrowth rooting her to the ground, filling her senses with familiar sounds and scents.

Mapleshade reached the wooden bridge and raced across, ears flattened and fur spiked. The noise of the river tumbling below dragged her mind back to the moment she had let go of Patchkit. The water was too strong! It was not my fault that my kits died, she reminded herself. She jumped off the bridge onto dry, sandy ground that sloped up toward Four Trees directly in front of her. If she turned and followed the river downstream, she would be in ThunderClan territory. Trying to ignore the sound of the water, she took a few steps toward the boundary, already tasting the scent markers on the still air.

Then she froze. She could not cross the border. She had been driven out—exiled by her own

Clanmates. If she took one step into her former home, she would be treated worse than a rogue. An image swam into Mapleshade’s mind of a small black cat, eyes narrowed with suspicion, spouting words that rang with righteous indignation. Ravenwing! This was all his fault. He had jumped to conclusions, shattered the Clan’s trust in her, forced her Clanmates to judge her for something beyond her control. Because of his actions, Patchkit, Larchkit, and Petalkit had died. Every breath that Ravenwing took was a breath he had denied Mapleshade’s kits.

Rage swelled inside Mapleshade’s head until the sounds of the forest faded away and her vision blurred. She stumbled along the edge of the border, not caring when her claws scraped on stones or brambles dragged at her pelt. Her skin throbbed with heat and she was dimly aware of being thirstier than she had ever been in her life, but even when her paws splashed through a tiny stream, she couldn’t muster the energy to stop and drink. Eventually she could walk no farther, and she flopped down where she was, in a narrow ditch beside a holly bush that smelled of home.

Mapleshade closed her eyes and listened to the thudding of her heart. It seemed to grow louder and louder, until the leaf mulch she was lying on started to quiver. With a jolt she opened her eyes and saw a ginger face staring down at her in dismay.

“Mapleshade!” squeaked Nettlepaw. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“Then pretend that I’m dead,” Mapleshade growled. “I may as well be.”

Nettlepaw’s gaze darted around the ditch. “Where are the kits?” he whispered. “Are they in RiverClan?”

Mapleshade felt the numbness creeping over her once more. “They drowned in the river.”

“Oh no!” Nettlepaw’s eyes grew huge.

Mapleshade let her cheek rest on the cold dirt. “Leave me alone.”

With a muffled meow, Nettlepaw turned and fled. Mapleshade wondered if she would ever climb out of the ditch. There was another patter of paw steps above her. Mapleshade opened one eye.

Nettlepaw was pushing a bundle of herbs down toward her.

“I was collecting these for Ravenwing,” he mewed. “But I think you need them more. You don’t smell good, Mapleshade.” He peered earnestly at her. “Please eat them. I… I’m sorry about your kits. Frecklewish saw what happened in the river, but I hoped you made it to the other side.”

Mapleshade sat up with a hiss. “Frecklewish was watching?”

The apprentice looked scared. “Y-yes. She followed you to make sure that you left. She… she said you fell off the stepping-stones.”

“And yet she did nothing?” Mapleshade rasped. “Those kits were helpless! How could she watch them drown?”

Nettlepaw started to back away. “I don’t know. She must have thought they were okay. She said there were RiverClan cats on the far shore.”

“They were not okay!” Mapleshade snarled, arching her back and sinking her claws into the mulch.

“Nettlepaw! Where are you?” a cat called from the other side of the holly bush. Nettlepaw let out a whimper and raced away.

Mapleshade sank back down into the ditch. She chewed the leaves without tasting them, feeling a stab of satisfaction that she had taken them from Ravenwing. How could he carry on gathering herbs, treating his Clanmates, as if nothing had happened? Mapleshade burned with the need to see him, to make him regret spilling the secret that was hers, and hers alone. She looked up at the moon, which had appeared in the twilight sky. In one sunrise it would be at its half, when the medicine cats traveled to the Moonstone. Mapleshade might be forbidden from entering ThunderClan’s territory, but no cat could keep her away from the path that led to Mothermouth. Ravenwing would be alone on his journey, unprotected by warriors who were stupid enough to listen to his accusations and doom-mongering.

She felt the herbs working inside her, restoring strength to her legs. With a grunt, she jumped out of the ditch and started trotting away from the border, into the bramble thickets that encircled the hollow at Fourtrees. It wasn’t safe to stay so close to ThunderClan, not when patrols might be looking out for her. She didn’t know if Nettlepaw would keep quiet about finding her, though presumably he wouldn’t admit to giving her the herbs.

Mapleshade dropped down the steep slope into the hollow, paused briefly to look up at the four gigantic oaks, then carried on, scrambling up the other side and plunging into the trees that bordered WindClan’s territory. There was a strong smell of fox, which made her fur prickle, but it was stale rather than fresh, and would hide her own scent from curious border patrols.

She felt rather than heard the thrumming of terrified paws over the ground; peeping out of the bracken, she saw a rabbit hurtling across the moor toward her, pursued by a patrol of WindClan cats.

Mapleshade hardly had time to think before the rabbit ran straight into her in a tumble of paws and fur. She bit down hard on its neck and it went limp. The warriors were still racing toward her so

Mapleshade grasped the rabbit in her jaws and hauled it up the nearest tree. Her claws tore on the smooth bark and the rabbit dragged at her teeth but at last she reached the lowest branch and crawled onto it with her fresh-kill. She heard the WindClan cats scramble to a halt below.

“Where did that rabbit go?” asked one of them.

Another was circling the trunk, sniffing the ground. “The trail ends here, but that’s impossible.

Rabbits don’t climb trees.”

“I don’t know how you can smell anything,” grumbled an old tom with patchy brown fur.

Mapleshade thought his name was Midgepelt. “It stinks of fox around here.”

Mapleshade held her breath, waiting for one of the cats to look up and see her. There was little leaf cover this far down the trunk, and she couldn’t climb higher without making a noise. But the patrol sniffed around for a moment more, then headed back to the open moor, grumbling about vanishing prey. Fools! Mapleshade thought as she bit into the rabbit.

She spent the night under a clump of ferns a little deeper into the forest. She woke shivering beneath a light coat of frost, missing the warmth of her kits. Wherever you are, I hope you are warm , she thought through chattering teeth. Her belly was still full from the rabbit so she headed straight into the open, hoping it was too early for the WindClan dawn patrol. She had traveled to the Moonstone once before, as an apprentice. Mapleshade remembered her excitement at being inside WindClan’s territory with impunity; how she had longed to be seen by a patrol and challenged! But now she darted from rock to clump of gorse, cursing the lack of cover on the empty moor.

At last she reached the foot of the slope and crouched beside the Thunderpath. The stench of monsters caught in her throat and made her eyes water, but there were few of the noisy beasts around this early. She only had to wait a few moments before silence fell heavily in the valley and she was able to dart across the hard black stone. On the other side, she plunged through the long soft grass and into a hedge. She recalled passing a Twoleg den with cows and a dark, hay-scented barn where she and the other apprentices had paused to hunt. She decided to stay well clear this time, in case she ran into any of the other medicine cats traveling early to the Moonstone.

After crossing a broad expanse of grass and pushing through another hedge, Mapleshade saw the dark brown tops of some Twoleg dens that looked like the barn. She swerved to the far side of the next stretch of grass and trotted through a row of trees to where the ground started to slope steeply up.

Tilting back her head, she stared at the jagged rocks that marked the top of the ridge. The sun was striking them, turning them rosy and warm-looking, but their outlines still looked like teeth against the pale sky.

Mapleshade’s belly rumbled and she realized that if she didn’t eat now, she would be hungry for the rest of the day up on the hillside. She ducked back under the trees and quickly picked up the scent of a mole snuffling in the sunshine. Not her favorite fresh-kill but too easy to miss. She struck the flattened black body with her front paw and tucked in for a meal. Afterward she felt stronger, clearer-headed. She bounded up the side of the ridge, scattering loose pebbles under her paws. As the weak sun set the jagged stones ablaze, Mapleshade leaped onto a boulder and opened her jaws to screech at the valley below.

I am ready for you, Ravenwing! You will pay for what you have done!

The life that she had known was over; if she couldn’t be a warrior, then she would dedicate every beat of her heart to avenging the deaths of her kits.