“I don’t want anything,” Slate responded. “Only to kill that fox.”
Though she said nothing to Wind Runner, Slate admitted to herself that she didn’t expect to survive the fight. She wasn’t even sure that she cared. Killing the fox and protecting the kits—and yes, Wind Runner and Gorse Fur—would be enough. It will be a noble death. And I won’t have to go on trying to cope in a world without Cricket.
But as they continued toward the trees, a tiny thorn of doubt still stuck in her heart.
The sky was milky pale with dawn by the time Slate and Wind Runner reached the forest, and a golden glow on the horizon showed them where the sun would rise. But shadows still lay deep under the trees. The fox scent led the two cats around a bramble thicket and then as far as a gaping black hole among the roots of an oak tree.
“It’s in there,” Slate murmured, gagging on the hot reek that flowed out of the den.
“Now what do we do?” Wind Runner twitched her tail angrily. “I don’t mind chasing rabbits down their burrows, but I’m not going in there.”
“We have to get the fox to come out,” Slate meowed, thinking hard. “I know what to do. You go and hide in that clump of bracken.”
Wind Runner hesitated as if she was going to ask a question, then gave a single lash of her tail and slid out of sight among the ferns.
Once she had gone, Slate collapsed on one side just outside the den. “Help me! Help me!” she whimpered. “I’ve hurt my paw…”
She knew that the fox wouldn’t be able to understand her, but she hoped that the pain and fear in her voice would be clear enough to entice it into the open. Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought the fox must be able to hear that too. I’ve never been so scared.
At first there was no movement in the black mouth of the den. But after a few moments Slate heard a scuffling sound, and a sharp snout poked into the open, sniffing. Then the fox’s whole head appeared, its malignant eyes fixed on her.
Slate let out another piteous cry. But as the fox launched itself toward her, she rolled away and sprang to her paws, hissing defiance. In the same heartbeat Wind Runner exploded out of the bracken and hurled herself at the fox. Slate leaped in to attack it from the other side.
For a few moments the fox seemed bewildered, too surprised to fight back. But it quickly recovered, snapping at Wind Runner with all the viciousness Slate remembered.
Slate jerked back, too scared of getting her paws, or worse, her neck, caught between the fox’s jaws to battle with it up close. She could see that Wind Runner shared her fear, darting in to rake her claws across the creature’s pelt, then leaping back out of range. Slate concentrated, waiting until
Wind Runner had drawn the fox in one direction, then attacking from the other. She swiped at the fox’s hindquarters, but it whipped around and snapped at her, forcing her back.
Slate waited until the fox turned away again. Then she lurched forward, stretching out her foreclaws to dig them deep into the fox’s side, trying to open up a gash like the one it had made in her belly. The fox snarled and turned, stretching its jaws wide to snap at her. Slate ducked aside, wincing as she felt the fox tear out a chunk of her neck fur. She staggered backward, warm blood running down her neck, as Wind Runner threw herself at the fox again.
To her horror Slate saw the fox raise a forepaw and slam it across Wind Runner’s head. Wind Runner let out a yowl of pain and tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over, her legs and tail waving helplessly.
As the fox loomed over Wind Runner, Slate recovered her balance and charged forward, expecting to draw her enemy away. But the fox did not react. Its eye on the side facing her was cloudy and half-closed. It’s the eye Cricket hurt, Slate realized, remembering her brother’s claws ripping at the fox’s face. The fox couldn’t see her attacking from the side because of its wounded eye.
That’s the key to defeating it!
Slate took a deep breath, then flung herself at the fox from that side, keeping low to stay out of the way of its vicious jaws. As her claws sank into its fur, the half-blind fox turned to meet her, but Slate stayed out of its line of vision by attacking from under its jaws. She had a clear path to its neck, and plunged her foreclaws into the softer fur, tearing at the fox’s throat with every scrap of strength she could muster.
Panicking, the fox thrashed and snarled, desperate to escape Slate’s grip. Wind Runner scrambled back onto her paws and lunged at the fox from the other side. Together the two she-cats forced the fox to the ground, its struggles growing weaker.
Slate held on tight, ripping and tearing at the fox’s throat until blood sprayed upward, splashing her muzzle. The feeling of triumph was all she had hoped for.
“That’s for Cricket!” she snarled through clenched teeth.
As she watched the light die out from the fox’s eyes, Slate became dimly aware of Wind Runner yowling urgently.
Another fox? she thought. Does this one have a mate that’s charging to its rescue?
Slate released the fox and stepped away from it, trying to brace herself for another attack. She swayed on her paws, looking around for the new enemy. But all she saw was Wind Runner, staring at her with a look of horror in her yellow eyes.
“Your wound!” Wind Runner cried, gesturing toward Slate’s belly.
Slate looked down and saw blood—a lot of blood—seeping from the gash in her belly. Cold fear washed over her as she sank to the ground, turning her head toward Wind Runner.
“Help me,” she begged.
Blackness beckoned to her, coaxing her to sink down into its comforting depths. Slate fought against it, realizing that she had been wrong when she thought she would be content to give up her life in the fight.
I don’t want to die…
But the blackness was too strong for her. The echoing dark was all around her, and Slate was falling, falling into a pit that had no bottom, where the light of day would never come.
Slate felt the touch of a tiny paw on her forehead. She opened her eyes to see a small white face with bright eyes, so close to her that the kit’s whiskers tickled Slate’s ears.
“She’s alive!” Moth Flight called. “I told you she wouldn’t die!”
Moth Flight pulled back, and Slate looked around to see Gorse Fur, Wind Runner, Dust Muzzle, and Cloud Spots all gazing down at her. She realized that she was back in her nest in Wind Runner’s camp.
Wind Runner took a pace forward and rubbed her cheek against Slate’s. “I was so afraid,” she confessed. “You didn’t wake up, even when we dragged you home.”
Cloud Spots appeared behind Wind Runner, his eyes warm with relief. “I’m not surprised,” he meowed. “I could tell when I first met you, Slate, that you’re a fighter.”
Slate looked down at her belly and saw that Cloud Spots had sealed her wound again with a wad of cobwebs. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you all so much.”
“It’s the least we could do,” Gorse Fur responded. “You saved us from the fox.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Wind Runner,” Slate mewed. Turning to the brown she-cat, she went on, “I’m sorry I’ve gotten myself injured again. I wasn’t aiming to stay in your camp forever. I’ll leave as soon as I’m feeling stronger.”
Gorse Fur and Wind Runner exchanged a glance. “Actually,” Gorse Fur began, “we’ve been talking—”
“You can’t leave!” Wind Runner blurted out suddenly, her eyes filled with emotion.
Gorse Fur nodded. “You’re family now,” he agreed.