Shattered Sky

Chapter 9

Violetpaw shifted uncomfortably in her nest, listening to Needletail as she whimpered and twitched in a bad dream. Gently, she drew her tail across her friend’s shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t disturb Zelda, who was curled up in a deep sleep at the far side of the den.

“Hush,” she whispered to Needletail. “It’ll be okay.”

But is that true? Violetpaw asked herself.

Over the last few days, ever since the kittypets had come to join the Kin, things had only gotten worse. Darktail had coerced Max, Loki, and Zelda to stay even longer than the day or two they had first agreed to, telling them that they had pledged their loyalty—and that if they left now, they could never come back.

I don’t like the way they’re being treated, Violetpaw thought, but what can I do?

Needletail let out another whimper, and once again Violetpaw stroked her shoulder with the tip of her tail. She guessed that Needletail was dreaming about Rain; she did that almost every night, calling out his name in her sleep.

Or maybe she’s having a nightmare about what’s going to happen in the morning. Violetpaw shivered. But I’m not going to let myself think about that.

Unable to sleep, Violetpaw gazed up at the stars, reflecting how Needletail had changed in the last few days. Rain’s death had broken something within her. To other cats Needletail would always insist that Rain was a traitor, and that Darktail had only done what a good leader had to do. “Rain was not the cat I thought he was,” she had meowed more than once.

But Violetpaw knew that Needletail’s feelings were more complicated than that. Before Rain’s death, even when things got tough, she would always have a joke or a cheerful remark for Violetpaw. Now her carefree spirit had vanished, leaving something darker and heavier in its place. It was Violetpaw’s turn to take care of her.

And I do it gladly, Violetpaw thought, giving her sleeping friend’s ear a lick. But it’s weird and scary, like I’m her mentor or something.

Another yelp came from Needletail, who thrashed her tail to and fro in the throes of her nightmare. Violetpaw cuddled closer to her friend, but it didn’t seem to help.

Eventually weariness began to overcome Violetpaw. She closed her eyes and was beginning to drift into a restless, dreamless sleep when she felt a paw prodding her in the side.

Confused, Violetpaw struggled back to wakefulness. “Needletail… ,” she muttered.

But when her eyes were fully open, it was Dawnpelt—her former mentor in ShadowClan—who she saw. The she-cat’s head and shoulders were thrust through the bushes at the entrance to the den, her pale fur glimmering in the starlight.

“What…?” Violetpaw began.

Dawnpelt raised a paw for silence. “I had to come and tell you,” she whispered. “I’m leaving.”

Surprised, Violetpaw half sat up; disturbed by her movement, Needletail seemed to rouse for a heartbeat, then fell back into her uneasy sleep.

“I realize now that staying with Darktail and his Kin was a mistake,” Dawnpelt went on rapidly. “They’re bad cats! So I’m doing what I should have done in the first place: I’m going to ThunderClan to be with Rowanstar and Tawnypelt, and I’m leaving now so that Darktail won’t know that I’ve gone until it’s too late.”

At first Violetpaw was amazed, though she soon realized she had no reason to be. In the last few days, Birchbark, Lioneye, and Mistcloud had all left the Kin. What had surprised her then was that Darktail had let them go, even offering to escort them off the territory.

“Kinship goes both ways,” he had meowed solemnly. “I don’t want cats here who will not be loyal.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Violetpaw asked.

“I want you to come with me,” Dawnpelt replied. “I already sent Juniperclaw and Strikestone on ahead, and we can sneak away tonight, without Darktail seeing.”

“Why?” Violetpaw was puzzled. “Darktail took it really well when Lioneye and the others left.”

Dawnpelt looked uneasy, scrabbling with her forepaws among the bracken at the edge of the den. “I just don’t trust him,” she confessed.

Violetpaw could understand that. “What about Sleekwhisker?” she asked.

Dawnpelt’s expression darkened. “Sleekwhisker would never want to leave,” she replied. “I haven’t even told her.”

Violetpaw looked down at the sleeping Needletail, who had curled her tail around Violetpaw’s hindquarters as if she was making sure to keep her close.

Would she ever come with me to ThunderClan? Violetpaw asked herself. Then she shook her head. No, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t.

Even though Needletail was so unhappy here, Violetpaw couldn’t imagine her ever admitting she had been wrong. And that was what she would be doing if she left to go to ThunderClan.

“I’m sorry, but… I can’t go,” Violetpaw mewed softly to Dawnpelt. “I have to stay here with Needletail.”

Dawnpelt gave an irritated flick of her ears. “Have you got bees in your brain, Violetpaw? What the rogues are doing here is not good. What they’re about to do tomorrow goes against everything Clan cats believe in.”

“Darktail says we’re not Clan cats,” Violetpaw pointed out.

“Yes, and that’s exactly the problem.” A low growl came from Dawnpelt’s throat. “Clan cats have a code. Clan cats have honor. What do these rogues have?”

She’s right… But Violetpaw had to thrust that reaction away. They’re the only kin I have now, she admitted to herself, with another glance at Needletail.

An image of Twigpaw flashed into her mind: the look of dismay and disbelief when Violetpaw had attacked her in the battle. Once, the thought of going to ThunderClan to be with her sister would have filled her with joy, like sunlight striking down into a dark place. But she knew that her decision during that battle had cut her off forever from the light.

“Violetpaw, please come,” Dawnpelt urged her again. “You can be my apprentice again in ThunderClan.”

With a massive effort Violetpaw pushed away the thought of Twigpaw, and the idea of having a real mentor again in a real Clan. “I’m sorry; I can’t,” she whispered.

Dawnpelt dipped her head in sad acceptance of Violetpaw’s decision. “May StarClan light your path, always,” she murmured, and slipped away into the darkness.

With a long sigh Violetpaw curled up again in her nest and closed her eyes. She was just sinking into sleep again when a distant yowling woke her.

What now? she wondered wearily.

Her ears pricked alertly, Violetpaw strained to hear what was going on. She could make out the voices of two cats, and with a sudden chill she recognized that they belonged to Dawnpelt and Darktail.

Darktail must have caught Dawnpelt before she got away!

The cats’ tones were angry, though they were too far away for Violetpaw to make out the words. But it was clear that they were arguing.

I wonder why, Violetpaw asked herself. Darktail just let the other cats go, so why would he be upset about Dawnpelt leaving?

After a heartbeat the voices moved a little closer. Violetpaw heard Darktail meow, “If you don’t want to be with us anymore, then you are no longer our Kin.”

Violetpaw relaxed a little with relief. It sounded as if Darktail was letting Dawnpelt go after all.

At last Needletail had sunk into deeper sleep. Violetpaw lay by her side, still trying to overhear what Dawnpelt and Darktail were saying, though now the voices were receding into the distance.

Have I made a mistake by staying? Violetpaw asked herself as she drifted back into sleep. No, she decided. I owe Needletail everything.

Darktail and Raven had roused Violetpaw and the rest of the Kin as the first pale gleam of dawn crept into the sky. Giving the order for silence, Darktail had led them through the forest, the only sound the whispering of their paws as they padded over the thick layer of pine needles that covered the ground. Now they stood at the edge of the little Thunderpath that separated their territory from RiverClan’s.

Glancing around, Violetpaw realized that almost all the Kin were gathered there, the former ShadowClan warriors and the rogues. Thistle, Roach, Pinenose, Sparrowtail, Berryheart, Rippletail, Cloverfoot… The line of cats seemed endless. Even the elders, Oakfur and Ratscar, were there, and the three kittypets, Zelda, Loki, and Max.

That’s not right, Violetpaw thought. This is no place for elders or kittypets.

She was standing with Zelda on one side of her and Loki on the other, with Max just behind them. Violetpaw wished that she could have been nearer to Needletail, but her friend stood several fox-lengths away, closely escorted by Roach and Raven.

They haven’t moved from her side since we left camp, Violetpaw thought. I wonder why.

“I’m so nervous,” Zelda murmured into Violetpaw’s ear. “I wish we could have had something to eat before we set out. I’m starving!”

“I’m too nervous to eat,” Loki mewed.

“Quiet!” Darktail padded over, and Violetpaw’s belly lurched as she realized he had been close enough to hear the kittypets’ soft voices. “There’ll be plenty to eat after we defeat RiverClan. Once we have our victory, we’ll have a great big feast.”

Zelda gave an excited little bounce. “Oh, I love feasts! When I lived with my housefolk, they had feasts sometimes, with scraps of all different kinds of food. They played a game with me: they’d put my feast into the garbage can, and I had to hunt for it. It was fun!”

Violetpaw glimpsed a flash of anger in Darktail’s eyes, as if he would have liked to claw the flighty little kittypet’s ear off. “Be quiet now,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “It’s time to claim our new territory.”

With a gesture of his tail, Darktail beckoned the three kittypets a few paw steps away from Violetpaw. Sleekwhisker padded up with the two ShadowClan elders, then stepped back with a nod to Darktail.

“Right,” Darktail meowed. “This is the plan. You three kittypets will be going in first, along with the elders.”

“Is that a good idea?” Violetpaw asked without thinking. Her belly cramped with fear as Darktail turned a menacing gaze on her, and she realized she shouldn’t have questioned her leader. “I—I mean,” she stammered, “the kittypets don’t have any battle experience, and the elders are… well, elder.”

Darktail paused before replying. Violetpaw noticed the three kittypets exchanging glances of alarm, while the two elders were listening with grim expressions.

“It’s an honor to be the first cats to attack in a battle,” Darktail assured them at last.

Violetpaw thought that was a bit strange. Even if that’s true, wouldn’t you choose your strongest warriors to honor? She was sure that Oakfur and Ratscar hadn’t fought in a battle for ShadowClan since they’d retired to the elders’ den. And when inexperienced apprentices went into battle, they fought beside their mentors. But she didn’t dare say anything more to Darktail. After all, it’s different with the Kin.

“You, Violetpaw, will have the greatest honor of all,” Darktail continued smoothly. “You will fight at my side.”

Even weirder, Violetpaw thought. Why does he want me at his side?

But she had no time to work out what Darktail intended. The bushes at the other side of the Thunderpath rustled, and a group of RiverClan cats stepped out into the open.

By this time the dawn light had strengthened, and a glow in the sky over WindClan territory showed where the sun would rise. There was enough light for Violetpaw to see that the RiverClan leader, Mistystar, was in the lead, her gray-blue fur gleaming except for the dark gash along her side where she had been wounded in the previous battle.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “My dawn patrol reported a large group of cats along our border. What are you doing here?” When Darktail didn’t reply at once, she lashed her tail and added, “RiverClan wants nothing to do with you mange-ridden rogues! Be gone!”

In spite of Mistystar’s challenging tone, Violetpaw could see confusion in her blue eyes. It made her realize how strange Darktail’s behavior was, that it was quite outside a Clan leader’s experience.

Still Darktail didn’t attempt to answer Mistystar’s questions. Instead he let out a deep-throated caterwaul. “Kin! Attack!”

At once Zelda, Max and Loki sprang forward, with the two elders lumbering after them. Violetpaw could tell that the kittypets didn’t have much of an idea what they were supposed to do in a fight. Zelda opened her jaws wide, but what came out was more like a squeak than a challenging roar.

Violetpaw wanted to follow her friends and help them, but as she bunched her muscles to hurl herself forward, Darktail blocked her path with his tail.

“Not yet,” he mewed.

On the opposite side of the Thunderpath, the RiverClan warriors stared in amazement, exchanging confused glances as if they didn’t know what to do about an attack from confused kittypets.

“Time to show what you’re made of, my Kin!” Darktail raised his voice again in a yowl. “Time to tell these Clan cats they can’t mess with us! The winner of this battle takes the territory!”

Spurred on by his leader’s orders, Scorchfur was the first of the Kin to race forward, taking a swipe at Beetlewhisker’s nose. Blood sprayed out into the air, and Beetlewhisker let out a screech.

As if at a signal, the RiverClan cats seemed to realize that the attack wasn’t absurd after all.

They know it’s really happening, Violetpaw thought. They can see they’re in danger of losing their camp.

Darktail had explained the day before that the RiverClan cats would be at a serious disadvantage: their numbers were about equal since more rogues had come to join the Kin, but RiverClan had taken more serious injuries in the previous battle. Their leader, Mistystar herself, still wasn’t fully recovered.

But as the RiverClan cats gave vent to furious yowling and sprang to defend themselves, Violetpaw could see that their courage was as strong as ever, in spite of their wounds. With slashing claws and bared teeth, they fell upon the rogues, driving the less experienced of them wailing into the undergrowth, or leaving them writhing in pain on the hard surface of the Thunderpath.

The three kittypets were doing their best, but they were no match for experienced RiverClan warriors. Violetpaw lost sight of them in the midst of whirling, shrieking bundles of fur.

“Now!” Darktail meowed to Violetpaw. “It’s time to have some fun.”

Fun? Violetpaw thought, appalled.

Darktail raced forward into the battle, and Violetpaw followed him. At first she wasn’t sure she wanted to attack the RiverClan cats. She remembered Dawnpelt’s words the night before, how her former mentor was convinced the rogues were evil.

RiverClan attacked us with the others, but they were just trying to help ShadowClan. Can it be right to drive them off their territory?

But she remembered too what Darktail had said, that the Clan cats had always been hostile to the rogues. And Mistystar called us mange-ridden just now! We should teach her to respect the Kin…

Violetpaw still hovered on the edge of the battle. Darktail had bounded ahead of her, his claws stretched out to slash at Mistystar. But Reedwhisker, the RiverClan deputy, a lean, black streak of fury, hurled himself between Darktail and his leader. He and Darktail wrestled on the ground, legs and tails flailing.

Roach and Nettle were fighting close together, dealing vicious blows to the RiverClan cats who attacked them. The stench of blood filled the air; Violetpaw gagged on it, wanting to hide under the nearest bush and close her eyes until it was all over.

But she knew she couldn’t do that. The Kin seemed to be driving back the RiverClan cats, and she glanced around to see how the kittypets and elders were getting along.

What she saw chilled her from ears to tail-tip. Both elders were badly hurt: Oakfur lay at the edge of the Thunderpath, struggling to stand, while Ratscar stood over him, battling a RiverClan warrior, with blood dripping from a scar across his cheek.

Loki had retreated across a wide area, covered by the same hard stuff as the Thunderpath, that stretched as far as the lake. He was crouched at the water’s edge, shivering with fear. Zelda was limping toward him, a huge gash in one of her hind legs, letting out whimpers of pain at every paw step.

For a terrible moment, Violetpaw couldn’t spot Max. Then she saw him lying in a clump of long grass on the RiverClan side of the border, the ground all around him clotted with blood. He wasn’t moving at all.

Is he dead? A cold wave of horror washed over Violetpaw, and she remembered how the tom had puffed out his chest when he first came into the forest, boasting that he would deal with any cats who dared to attack the Kin. And this is how he’s ended up.

Violetpaw’s horror turned to hot anger. The air seemed to be filled with a red haze, and her mind emptied of everything except the need to hurt the cats who had hurt her friends. She longed to feel her claws slashing through RiverClan pelts.

Hurtling into the undergrowth on the RiverClan side of the border, Violetpaw found herself face to face with Owlnose. He ducked to avoid the blow she aimed at him, and her claws whipped harmlessly past his ears. He rose up on his hind paws, trying to box her ears with both his forepaws, but Violetpaw barreled forward, keeping her head low, and raked her claws across his unprotected belly. Owlnose backed off, his jaws wide as he gasped in pain.

Violetpaw spun away from him and flung herself back into the battle, hardly aware of which cats she was facing as she whirled around, striking with outstretched claws and letting out fearsome caterwauls. At last she realized that no more opponents were coming forward to challenge her, and she stood still, panting.

A cat loomed up beside her, and she turned, ready to defend herself, then relaxed as she realized it was Needletail. To Violetpaw’s relief, though her friend had several scratches down her flanks, she didn’t seem to be badly hurt.

“You fought well,” Needletail meowed. “But you can stop now. It’s over.”

Violetpaw pushed her way through a barrier of ferns that separated her from the Thunderpath and looked around. The hard surface and the ground on either side were strewn with the bodies of dead cats. There were so many that at first Violetpaw couldn’t identify any of them.

Mistystar stood close by, surrounded by some of her warriors. All of them were seriously injured; Mistystar’s wound had opened up again, and blood was trickling down through her blue-gray fur.

The Kin have won, Violetpaw thought, and wondered why she didn’t feel more triumphant.

Mistystar bent her head to sniff at the body of a russet tabby tom, who lay stretched out with a gaping wound in his throat. “Foxnose,” Mistystar whispered. “You didn’t deserve this. Heronwing, too,” she added, her voice shaking as she turned toward a gray-and-black warrior whose limp body was huddled nearby. “You fought so bravely.”

“Petalfur and Shadepelt are dead, too.” A tortoiseshell elder—Violetpaw remembered that her name was Mosspelt—came staggering up, with blood smeared over her white chest fur. She halted beside her Clan leader and pressed her nose into Mistystar’s shoulder fur. Violetpaw turned aside, unable to go on witnessing their grief.

Now the sun had fully risen, casting a reddish glow across the landscape. By the light of it, Violetpaw spotted Darktail standing in the middle of the Thunderpath. His white pelt was soaked in blood, scarlet with it, and at first Violetpaw thought that he too must have been badly wounded. But then, seeing his firm stance and the proud angle of his head, she realized that the blood was not his own.

As she watched, Darktail raised one of his paws to his mouth and licked off a clot of thick red blood. He flung back his head and let out a yowl of victory. All around him, the rest of the Kin joined in.

Before the caterwauling died away, Violetpaw noticed a limp, black-furred body lying on the ground close beside her. The dead cat’s throat was torn out, and the earth around her was drenched in her blood. With a start of horror, Violetpaw recognized Pinenose, the cat who had fostered her when she first arrived in ShadowClan.

“Oh, Pinenose,” Violetpaw whispered sadly, “you never showed me much love, but you took care of me when I was a stranger in your Clan. I’m sorry you had to die.”

“Mistystar,” Darktail began, while Violetpaw was still staring at her foster mother’s body, “it’s time to take your mange-ridden Clan out of here. This is Kin territory now.”

Mistystar glared at him with hatred in her blue eyes. “We’ll go,” she snarled. “You give us no choice. But we’ll be back.”

Darktail flicked his tail dismissively. “I’m terrified.”

Mistystar called her warriors together, and those who were not so badly injured began helping the seriously wounded cats to stand, with Mothwing and Willowshine quickly packing cobwebs onto the worst of their gashes.

Violetpaw spotted Reedwhisker, who had leaped in to defend his leader and now lay on one side, panting with his eyes half closed. Icewing’s white pelt was half clawed off, her wounds showing red and angry, while one of Brackenpelt’s ears was shredded, and she held one forepaw off the ground as she tottered upright. Mintfur looked as if he was dead, though he let out a groan when Mothwing bent over him and laid a paw on his neck.

“One moment,” Darktail meowed, stepping forward. “Where do you think you’re taking these cats?”

Mistystar stared at him as if she found it hard to understand the question. “With us, of course,” she replied, “so that Mothwing and Willowshine can treat their injuries. The battle is over!”

“The wounded stay with me,” Darktail hissed, his eyes dark and menacing as he gazed at Mistystar. Sliding out his claws, he added, “Unless you’d like to fight us for them.”

Mistystar slid out her claws in response, drawing her lips back in the beginning of a snarl. But after a moment’s hesitation, facing Darktail with her shoulder fur bristling, she took a pace back. Violetpaw guessed she was considering the poor shape her Clan cats were in, and her own serious wound. None of them were a match for Darktail; the rogue leader seemed to have grown even stronger in the chaos of the battle.

Reedwhisker raised his head, breaking the tense silence. “Leave us,” he meowed to Mistystar. “It’s not worth another terrible fight. We’ll be okay.”

Mistystar hesitated a few heartbeats more, then seemed to realize that she had no choice. “Very well,” she mewed. “But none of you should worry. We’ll come back for you—I promise you that. Meanwhile… Darktail, you should at least let us take the bodies of our Clanmates for burial.”

Darktail’s mouth twisted in mockery. “That carrion? Forget it, flea-pelt.”

A growl rumbled from Mistystar’s throat as her neck fur fluffed out. Violetpaw thought that she was within a heartbeat of launching herself at the rogue leader.

Oh, StarClan, no!

Before Mistystar could move, the elder Mosspelt stepped forward, thrusting herself between Darktail and her leader. “Don’t,” she mewed, her voice low and urgent. “That’s what he wants.”

“But we can’t leave our Clanmates here as if they were pieces of crow-food!” Mistystar protested.

“Our Clanmates are not here,” Mosspelt persisted. “We can sit vigil for them tonight wherever we happen to be. Not even Darktail can stop their spirits from traveling to StarClan.”

Mistystar hesitated for a moment, then bowed her head in acquiescence. “You’re right,” she whispered. “But it breaks my heart.”

Darktail let out a snort, watching with a gloating expression on his face as the defeated RiverClan cats limped off toward the lake. “Feel free to cross my territory on your way to ThunderClan,” he sneered. “They’re weak and tenderhearted; they’re bound to take you in.”

Mistystar did not respond, but she did lead her cats away along the lakeshore, through what had once been ShadowClan territory, on the way to ThunderClan. Violetpaw watched them go, half wishing she could go with them but knowing it was impossible.

“Good riddance,” Darktail growled, a look of triumph in his eyes. Turning to his followers, he added, “Gather up the prisoners. Gather them up, and find a place to hold them.”