He turned and reared up. A ginger tom spat at him, back arched, paw raised, ready to deal another mighty blow. Crookedpaw knocked his paw aside and swiped the tom’s muzzle with such force it sent them both reeling backward. Staggering on his hind paws, Crookedpaw felt the rock disappear from underneath him. With a yelp, he fell, stone scraping his pelt as he tumbled down the side of Sunningrocks and landed in the snow beneath. Stiff with shock, he fought for breath.
Frog dung!
Anger pulsed in his paws. He looked up the sheer rock face. The pink sky arced above, strangely calm above the shriek of battle. He had to help his Clanmates! He darted along the foot of the rock, skidding around the corner to where he knew he’d find enough paw holds to haul himself up. A blue-gray pelt blocked his way. ThunderClan stench bathed his tongue.
An enemy warrior! He stumbled to a halt as the ThunderClan cat whirled to face him. Bluepaw! Was that relief in her eyes?
“Thank StarClan,” she sighed.
What would Mapleshade say? The other Clans are no more than dust and beetles! This was his chance to prove he was loyal to RiverClan above everything. So what if he’d spoken to this cat at a Gathering? There was no truce now. “You’re on our territory!” Crookedpaw dropped into a crouch, eyes narrowed to slits. “We’re enemies now,” he hissed.
Bluepaw blinked. She was surprised! Dumb cat!
Crookedpaw sprang forward and knocked her into the snow. Before she could move, he grabbed her shoulders and churned his hind paws against her spine. Yowling, she twisted her head back, clamping her jaws around his forepaw. She bit down hard. Crookedpaw yelped. He kicked her away, pain searing his paw. Bluepaw tumbled screeching down the shore toward the icy river. Crookedpaw licked at his wound, the fierce sting of it making him feel sick. Then he heard snow swish and saw a flash of blue fur.
Bluepaw crashed into him with a howl of rage. Shocked, he staggered, and Bluepaw spun around and nipped his hind leg. She turned again and nipped his forepaw, then reared up and lunged at him, sinking her teeth deep into his scruff.
You snake-heart! Energy shot like lightning through Crookedpaw. She was trying to drag him backward. Stupid furball! He dug in his claws and thrashed his head from side to side. Flinging her off, he turned and spat. “Don’t expect mercy from me!”
Panic lit her eyes and she reared up again, swiping blindly. He had her! Lifting his forepaws, he met her blow for blow. She staggered, trying to balance, while he kept swiping steadily, using the move he’d practiced over and over until it seemed as easy as fishing. She caught his muzzle with a claw but he hit back, slicing her ear, feeling it tear beneath his claws.
Run away!
He knew he could beat her back to ThunderClan land if he wanted. A yowl sounded behind them.
“Snowpaw!” Bluepaw’s eyes sparked as her sister darted beside her.
Crookedpaw growled as Snowpaw plunged forward and began swiping alongside her Clanmate. Fielding blows from two pairs of paws, Crookedpaw fought harder. But the blows kept coming, relentless and fast. His hind legs began to weaken. His muscles screamed to stop. Claws raked his muzzle, then his ears, then his cheek. The flurry of paws was too fast to match. He started to back away, his hind paws slipping on the snow. Then Snowpaw ducked and bit his hind leg. It collapsed beneath him.
“Frog-dung!” Crookedpaw dropped on to all fours, growling, and lunged for the two cats, trying to get between them and split their attack. But Snowpaw darted underneath him. Pain ripped his belly as she raked him with thorn-sharp claws. More claws sank into his shoulders. Bluepaw was on his back. Panic rising, he tried to shake her off while scrambling away from Snowpaw. But Snowpaw rolled and knocked out his hind legs. Tumbling, Crookedpaw yowled with rage. Bluepaw was clinging on like a burr. He felt his pelt shredding beneath her churning paws as he rolled down the bank. Agony gripped him, blood roaring in his ears. Flinging Bluepaw off, he dived for the frozen river and hurtled across the ice. Racing for the bank he exploded through the bushes, relieved to smell RiverClan scent bathe his tongue.
A yowl split the air. “Forward, ThunderClan!”
Bluepaw and Snowpaw were staring up at Sunningrocks, ears pricked with excitement. They ducked against the rock as RiverClan warriors began to plunge down the cliff and charge across the river. Crookedpaw watched in shock as Hailstar hurtled past him, leaving blood in his trail. Ottersplash and Shimmerpelt thundered after him, the rest of the patrol at their heels.
RiverClan is retreating?
Shellheart, Rippleclaw, and Timberfur were pounding the ice on the far side of the river, smashing it with their hind paws. As Crookedpaw stared, they broke open a channel of icy water and swam hard for the far shore. ThunderClan streamed down the rocks in pursuit, slithering to a clumsy halt at the edge of the racing water. The broken ice meant there was no way for them to follow.
“Mouse-hearts!” a mottled warrior growled as Shellheart dived through the bushes on RiverClan’s side of the river.
“Crookedpaw?” Shellheart pulled up sharply. “Are you okay?”
Crookedpaw straightened and lifted his chin. “I’m fine.”
Shellheart frowned. “You must have fought like a warrior.” He leaned forward and licked Crookedpaw’s blood-soaked cheek. Crookedpaw ducked away, wincing.
“Come on.” Shellheart nudged him toward camp. “You’re going to need some herbs on those scratches.”
“You ordered us to retreat!” Rippleclaw stared, dumbfounded, at Shellheart. “How could you do that?”
Shellheart was padding among his Clanmates, checking injuries, doling out praise and encouragement to the battered warriors. Dawn colored the sky and birds were beginning to sing in the bushes outside camp. Crookedpaw crouched beside Oakheart, his pain easing as Brambleberry’s herbs soaked into his wounds.
“We had no choice,” Shellheart meowed.
Timberfur shifted, wincing, on to his other side. “But Hailstar told us ThunderClan was weak.”
“We were winning!” Lakeshine paused from smoothing her long gray-and-white fur. It was smeared with blood and fragments of herb.
Whitefang sighed. “If only Stormtail hadn’t turned up with a second patrol—”
Rippleclaw cut him off. “Why didn’t Hailstar think of that?”
“He’s not a mind reader,” Shellheart snapped.
Timberfur growled. “But he’s a leader. Leaders should know how to win battles.” He glared toward the medicine den.
Hailstar’s wounds had been deep. When Brambleberry couldn’t stop the bleeding in the clearing, Shellheart and Owlfur had carried the half-conscious leader to her den.
“Shut up!” Petaldust’s eyes flared. A long scratch traced from her forehead to her muzzle, and her tortoiseshell pelt was clumped with blood. “Hailstar could be losing a life!”
Crookedpaw got to his paws. His wounds burned like fire.
Oakheart looked up. “Where are you going?”
“I want to take fresh-kill to Brambleberry.” He glanced at his paws. Truthfully, he was more interested in finding out how Hailstar was so he could reassure Petaldust and Voleclaw. They were clearly worried about their father. Even Beetlenose wasn’t boasting for a change. “She’s been busy all night. She must be hungry.”
“But the fresh-kill pile’s empty,” Oakheart pointed out.
“I know where there are some minnows.” He padded carefully through the reed bed. The ice creaked beneath his paws. It would be gone in a day or so. He quickly caught a few minnows in his jaws. Back on shore, he crossed the clearing.