There were no fresh paw prints leading from the hole. It must be inside. He peered into the darkness, wrinkling his nose at the stench. His paws itched with foreboding. The hole disappeared into blackness. Every hair in his pelt stiffened.
I’ll draw the fox out.
He crouched at the entrance and gave a sharp, angry yowl.
Silence.
Coward!
Then he remembered with a flash of fury that this fox preferred attacking defenseless kits. He crouched lower, stretching forward. Swallowing against the rank odor, he gave a weak, whimpering yowl.
He pricked his ears. Nothing.
Tentatively, he climbed over the lip of the hole and crept into the darkness. The snow turned to earth beneath his belly as he slithered in. The fox stench was suffocating. He held his breath and crawled farther into the pitch-black lair.
Pain seared his tail as sharp teeth clamped it and dragged him backward. He scrabbled at the earth, struggling to turn, but the fox had caught him, and with a growl it hauled him from the hole and flung him out into the snow. Lionblaze sprang to his paws and faced the fox as it slunk out from under the elderberry bush. It stared back at him, its black eyes bright with hatred. Its snout was still scarred from yesterday’s battle.
Lionblaze stood his ground, hissing. The fox showed its teeth. Then it rushed at him. Lionblaze reared up, meeting it with a flurry of swipes. But the weight of the fox hurled him backward. Lionblaze landed with a thump that knocked his breath away. He twisted, tail thrashing as he tried to stand, but heavy paws slammed him harder against the ground. Jaws snapped at his ear, and saliva sprayed his face.
Struggling for breath, Lionblaze dug his claws into the snowy ground and hauled himself forward, leaping to his paws as soon as he was clear. The power of the fox had startled him. He’d never fought an animal as big as this. He’d have to move faster. With any luck, the fox couldn’t match his speed. Lionblaze spun around, claws slashing.
Too late!
Pain scoured his flesh, and Lionblaze felt his paws lift from the ground. He churned at the air, panic rising. The fox’s teeth were pressing deep into his shoulder. For the first time ever, he feared his flesh would rip.
Dovepaw was standing only tail-lengths away, her mouth wide. “I’ll get help!” she screeched.
“No!” Lionblaze twisted and lashed out, blocking agony as the fox’s teeth stretched his pelt. Triumph flickered in his belly as he felt fur and flesh rip beneath his claws, and the fox let go with a howl.
Time slowed down.
The snowy ground met Lionblaze’s paws. He spun on his haunches and reached out with one paw. Claws stretched wide, he met the fox’s snarling face with a ferocious blow. Saliva drenched his pad as a flick of the fox’s snout sent Lionblaze staggering backward. It dived again. Lionblaze met it with another vicious swipe. Blood sprayed his muzzle, and he heard the fox wail.
As red fur blurred in front of him, Lionblaze pressed his hind legs into the ground and leaped. He sprang high and clear of the fox’s jaws and landed on its shoulders. The fox felt solid beneath him, like warm earth; it bucked and reared, turning this way and that, snapping at Lionblaze over its shoulder and yelping with frustration. But Lionblaze gripped on, keeping just out of reach.
Digging every claw deeper, he sank his teeth into the fox’s fur, feeling flesh tear and tugging harder. Blood throbbed from the wound, filling Lionblaze’s mouth. The fox sank beneath him with a howl. Lionblaze froze, his teeth still embedded in flesh. He waited for a moment.
The fox lay still, its flanks heaving, a soft whine in its throat. Lionblaze let go and backed off. Crouching, he stared at the fox through a haze of blood. The creature stirred and hauled itself to its paws. Gasping and whining, it headed for the hole. Lionblaze darted forward, snarling and blocking its way. The fox stared at him with wide, terrified eyes and veered past the elderberry bush. With a flick of its scarlet, blood-flecked tail, it headed into the bracken.
Dovepaw slid out from the holly bush, her pelt standing on end. Without speaking, she began to herd the fox onward. Slashing at it from either side, they drove it along the ShadowClan border, making sure it didn’t cross into ShadowClan territory, growling threateningly if it tried to break away into the heart of ThunderClan’s forest. Together they drove it away from the lake and up out of Clan land.
As the slope steepened and oak turned to ash around them, the fox scrambled ahead and vanished under a lump of brambles.
“That’s far enough.” Panting, Lionblaze sat down.
Dovepaw halted beside him and watched the leaves quiver where the fox had disappeared.
“It won’t come back.” Lionblaze’s legs started to shake. “Let’s get back to camp.”
Dovepaw eyed him warily. “Are you hurt?”
“Just tired.” The fight had crushed all the energy from him, and he found himself leaning on Dovepaw as they headed back. He hardly saw where they walked, letting Dovepaw lead. When the scent of the hollow began to touch his muzzle, he paused. The snow felt wonderfully cold against his stinging claws.
“Just let me get my breath back,” he meowed to Dovepaw.
Her eyes were dark. “Are you sure you’re not wounded? You’re covered in blood.”
As Lionblaze gazed down at his pelt, a shriek ripped the air. He stiffened and looked up to see Cinderheart staring at him. Her face was frozen, her eyes wild with horror. “Lionblaze?”
She dashed toward him, sniffing frantically. “What happened? Where are you hurt?” Then she turned and ran. “I’ll get help!” she screeched over her shoulder.
Lionblaze wanted to chase after her and reassure her that it wasn’t his blood, but his paws were still heavy and his mind thick with exhaustion. Blood dripped from his pelt, turning the snow below him crimson. Cinderheart was going to send panic through the Clan.
“We’d better hurry,” he grunted.
“Clean yourself up first,” Dovepaw advised.
Lionblaze lapped at his pelt, gagging at the slimy nettle tang of the fox’s blood.
“Roll yourself in the snow,” Dovepaw suggested.
Lionblaze lay down and wriggled as hard as he could in the cold wet snow. When he clambered to his paws, a wide patch of red stained the white forest floor.
Dovepaw plucked at the ground. “Let’s hope we get back before a rescue patrol arrives.”
Lionblaze felt his energy returning. The snow had refreshed him, and now his heart quickened as he imagined Cinderheart yowling through the camp that he’d been horribly injured.
They met the rescue patrol on the slope outside the hollow.
“Are you all right?” Firestar headed the patrol. Brambleclaw, Graystripe, and Birchfall paced around them, ears and tails twitching.
“What in the name of StarClan happened to you?” Graystripe sniffed warily at Lionblaze.
“We met the fox,” Lionblaze growled.
Birchfall flattened his ears. “Where?” He scanned the trees.
“We’ve chased it out of our territory,” Lionblaze reassured them. “It won’t come back.”
Graystripe guided Lionblaze toward the thorn barrier with his tail. “We’d better get you to the medicine den. Cinderheart’s already helping Jayfeather prepare herbs for you. She made it sound like you were on your last legs.”
Lionblaze’s whiskers twitched as he imagined Jayfeather muttering under his breath while Cinderheart insisted he unpack all his herbs for wounds that would prove to be nonexistent.