Why does she keep repeating that? Alderheart wondered. Is she trying to convince herself?
“Actually,” Needletail went on, “I wanted to ask you about Dawnpelt. How is she doing in ThunderClan?”
Alderheart felt his heart sink right down into his paws. But he knew he would have to answer the question. “Dawnpelt isn’t in ThunderClan,” he replied. “Isn’t she still with you and the rogues?”
“No,” Needletail explained, her eyes widening in apprehension. “She went to ThunderClan to live with her parents and her littermate.”
Alderheart shook his head. “I’m sorry, but she hasn’t come to our camp.”
As he spoke, the fur on the back of Needletail’s neck stood up and terror flashed into her eyes. She looked as if she had suddenly understood something, and it had driven her into the depths of fear.
“What do you—” Alderheart began.
“Well, if something happened to Dawnpelt, it was her own fault!” Needletail interrupted. “She should have been more careful.”
Alderheart wanted to protest at Needletail’s harsh tone—then he realized that Raven still stood close by, watching and listening carefully. There was no way that Needletail could say what she truly meant. Every hair on his pelt prickled as he began to understand her fear.
I’ve seen Needletail in a lot of different moods, but never terrified like this. What is going on here with the rogues?
Chapter 11
Violetpaw crouched under a bush at the edge of the old RiverClan camp, sharing a fish with Loki and Zelda. Each mouthful of the cold, slimy prey threatened to choke her, and it was an effort to swallow.
“I really don’t like fish,” she muttered. “I’d give anything for a warm, juicy mouse!”
“Me too,” Loki agreed. “Or a bowl of the pellets my housefolk used to give me.”
Zelda’s only response was a sigh.
The two surviving kittypets had changed since the battle, when Max had been killed. Their excitement and enthusiasm had drained away, and they seemed to realize that they would never be allowed to leave the Kin. Darktail no longer treated them with fake friendliness; he and the other rogues simply ignored them, and Violetpaw was their only friend.
“Well,” she mewed, “Darktail says that the fish is ours now, just like the territory, so we all have to get used to it.”
“Some of the rogues really like it,” Loki pointed out. “I saw Roach and Nettle fighting over a fish yesterday.”
“Raven, too,” Zelda agreed. “And they all leave the nasty scraps and bones lying all over the camp! Don’t they realize they could attract scavengers?”
Forcing down the last of the disgusting fish, Violetpaw sat up to clean her whiskers. On the far side of the camp Raven and Sleekwhisker were bringing the prisoners out of the bramble thicket that had once been the RiverClan nursery. Darktail stood waiting for them in the middle of the clearing.
Almost all the rogues and remaining ShadowClan cats had moved over to RiverClan; Darktail had only left a small group to guard the ShadowClan territory. The camp here was crowded, and keeping the prisoners only made it worse.
Why doesn’t Darktail just let these cats go? Violetpaw asked herself. What does he want with them?
At sunrise the day before, every cat had realized that Berryheart and Beenose were nowhere to be found. Violetpaw assumed they had gone to ThunderClan, like Dawnpelt, but when she’d tried to ask Needletail about it, her friend had changed the subject.
Why does Darktail let the ShadowClan cats leave, and yet he keeps these prisoners so close? It doesn’t make sense.
The prisoners all looked skinny and half-starved, tottering up to Darktail on shaky paws.
“It is time for you to recite the pledge of loyalty to the Kin,” Darktail meowed when they were standing in front of him. “Repeat after me: I swear to be a friend to the Kin…”
Violetpaw felt a faint tingle of excitement as the prisoners hesitated, exchanging reluctant glances. Darktail had begun demanding the oath from them on the day after the battle, insisting that no cat would be fed unless they proved they were loyal to the Kin. At first the RiverClan warriors had held out—but as the days passed, first one and then another had given in, until Reedwhisker was the only one left who wouldn’t repeat the pledge of loyalty to Darktail, proudly refusing to betray his Clan in spite of his hunger and the many wounds he had taken in the battle.
Will he be brave enough to defy Darktail again? she asked herself.
But her small bubble of hope burst as Reedwhisker dipped his head and joined in the oath with his Clanmates, so that all four cats were reciting the words.
He must be too hungry to fight anymore, she thought sadly.
“What was that, Reedwhisker?” Darktail asked. “I didn’t quite hear you. Say it again, louder this time.”
Looking deeply humiliated, his head and tail drooping, Reedwhisker raised his voice and repeated the words. Violetpaw thought that her heart would break for him.
Once the pledge was finished, Darktail took up a couple of scrawny mice and tossed them at the prisoners, who were herded back into the thicket by Sleekwhisker and Raven.
That’s hardly enough for one hungry cat, let alone four of them!
Darktail nodded to the guards and turned away, a satisfied expression on his face.
Thinking about the missing cats made Violetpaw want to go and find Needletail, to try once again to get some information out of her. She started to slip away when Darktail wasn’t looking, only to be called back by the rogue leader.
“Violetpaw! Over here! I need to talk to you.”
Even though Darktail’s voice was warm and friendly, something about it made every hair on Violetpaw’s pelt start to rise. When he uses that voice, that’s when he’s most dangerous.
Obediently, she padded over to Darktail and halted a tail-length away from him. She kept her paws neatly together and curled her tail along her side, with her head bent submissively—she knew this was a pose that would please Darktail.
“I’ve heard that some herbs are missing from the medicine-cat den,” Darktail began. “I’m afraid that one of our own cats has stolen them.”
Violetpaw risked a glance at him and saw that though his face was calm, there was something malignant in the depths of his eyes.
“If any cat is hoarding herbs for their own use,” Darktail continued smoothly, “then I need to know about it. After all, it’s not fair for one cat to keep all the herbs for themselves. They’re for every cat to share!” Darktail licked one paw and smoothed it over his ear. “I think sharing is very important, as I’m sure you know.”
His last words confused Violetpaw. She had seen plenty of evidence that Darktail only shared when it suited his own needs. But she was relieved that she had a good answer to give him.
“No cat stole the herbs or did anything wrong,” she assured him. “Alderheart and Mothwing just came to take Mothwing’s herbs, since she was the one who collected and stored them.”
“Oh, well, yes, of course—their herbs,” Darktail meowed calmly. “That makes a lot of sense. But I have just one more question…”
He paused, and Violetpaw felt her belly lurch with apprehension.
“Which cat exactly told Mothwing and Alderheart that it was okay to come onto our territory to get the herbs?” Darktail asked.
His voice was still friendly, but Violetpaw saw that his eyes were cold and hard. She realized that she was making—no, had already made a terrible mistake.