Where will it all end?
Thistle padded up and halted beside Violetpaw, his cold blue eyes fixed on her succulent piece of prey. “That was mine,” he snarled, obviously expecting Violetpaw to step back and let him take it. “I saw it first.” He took a pace forward, looming over Violetpaw.
Violetpaw would have given him the vole to avoid a fight, but before she could move, Needletail broke in.
“Hey, back off, mange-fur!” she challenged Thistle, baring her teeth and letting out a furious hiss. “Prey is not yours until you take it.”
“Okay, okay,” Thistle meowed. “Keep your fur on.” With a furious glare he headed back to the fresh-kill pile and started pawing over the prey again.
“Thanks, Needletail,” Violetpaw murmured. “I wish there weren’t so many rogues in camp these days. Some of them look kind of scary.”
“Huh!” Needletail snorted around a mouthful of blackbird. “They’re all meow and no claws, if you ask me. But you don’t need to worry, Violetpaw. I’ll look out for you.” She tore off another mouthful, swallowed, and then added more thoughtfully, “Mind you, Rain is suspicious of some of these new rogues, just like you.”
Violetpaw wasn’t sure what to make of that. I know Needletail likes Rain, but I’m not sure I trust him, either. He challenged Darktail and got blinded for his trouble. I’m still not sure whether he’s supporting Darktail now. Is he still questioning him?
She gulped down her vole, casting sidelong glances at Needletail as she did so.
“Have you got something on your mind?” Needletail asked. “Spit it out!”
Violetpaw hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I can’t stop thinking about hurting Twigpaw,” she confided shyly. “I feel so bad about it. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but she was trying to get away from me and she hurt her leg. What if…” Under Needletail’s intent gaze she found words for her greatest fear. “What if I’ve crippled my sister?”
Needletail touched her nose reassuringly to Violetpaw’s ear. “No cat ever got crippled from a little fall like that,” she stated. “Twigpaw will be fine. You had to fight her, Violetpaw. ThunderClan and the other cats attacked us, didn’t they? The Clan cats are our enemies now. And that includes Twigpaw.”
Violetpaw listened, knowing that what her friend was saying made sense, but still unable to shake off her feeling that something was terribly wrong. How can my sister be my enemy?
“You did what you had to do,” Needletail went on. “And now you need to forget about Twigpaw. We’re your kin now—me and the rest of the cats here. We’re the ones who care about you.”
Violetpaw couldn’t find words to protest. But whatever Needletail says, I can’t forget my sister!
“I’m going to take a mouse to Puddleshine,” Violetpaw announced when she had finished her prey. “He’s working so hard, looking after the injured warriors, and I’m sure he’s not taking time to eat.”
“Good idea,” Needletail meowed. “I’ll come with you. I want to see how Darktail’s doing.”
Violetpaw tidied up the fresh-kill pile, which Thistle had left scattered, and found a juicy-looking mouse for Puddleshine. Needletail padded beside her as she carried it to the medicine-cat den.
Puddleshine’s den lay in the farthest corner of the camp, where the bushes and bramble tendrils didn’t cluster so thickly. But there was a sheltered space under a slanting rock, the ground thickly covered with moss and bracken, where Puddleshine and any injured cats could sleep.
When Violetpaw and Needletail entered by a tunnel through the brambles, the only cat there apart from Puddleshine was Darktail. He lay stretched out on the bedding, his chest heaving with each breath. Violetpaw had heard how badly Onestar had injured him in the battle; now she could see the pain in his slitted eyes. Needletail padded over and sat beside him; he could barely raise his head to see which cats had come to visit him.
“Puddleshine, I brought you this,” Violetpaw mewed as she set the mouse down in front of the medicine cat.
Puddleshine fixed the mouse with a hungry gaze. “Thank you, Violetpaw! I’m starving—my belly thinks my throat’s been clawed out!” He crouched and began to gulp down the mouse with ravenous bites.
“Violetpaw,” he mumbled a moment later, around a mouthful of prey, “could you chew up some of that coltsfoot for me? It should help Darktail with his breathing.” He pointed with one paw to a small heap of coltsfoot flowers at the foot of the rock.
“Sure.” Violetpaw padded over to the coltsfoot and began chewing some of the flowers into a pulp; they had a sharp, quite pleasant taste.
“That’s fine.” Puddleshine joined her a moment later, swiping his tongue around his jaws as he swallowed the last bite of mouse. “Now let’s give it to Darktail.”
The rogue leader managed to raise himself and lick up the pulp, then sank back into his bedding with a grunt. “That mange-pelt Onestar really hurt me,” he growled. “He was a far fiercer fighter than I expected from our last battle.”
He took a few deep breaths, seeming to find it easier after the coltsfoot, and turned his head to give Violetpaw a long stare. Her pads prickled with apprehension. What does Darktail think about me now?
“You fought well in the battle,” the rogue leader mewed at last. “You’re a credit to the Kin here.”
Relief that he wasn’t angry flooded over Violetpaw. Her pelt warmed at her leader’s praise, even though she felt that she didn’t deserve it.
“Violetpaw’s worried about wounding her littermate,” Needletail put in.
Violetpaw’s nervousness returned, an even sharper prickling. She wished Needletail hadn’t mentioned that. What if Darktail gets angry now?
But Darktail gave her an understanding nod. “I know it must have been hard to choose between your littermate and your new Kin,” he told Violetpaw. “I’m proud of you for making the right choice.”
Violetpaw dipped her head, flattered. Maybe Darktail’s not so scary after all. She felt her guilt over Twigpaw ease a little. Twigpaw and I were born together, but these cats have chosenme to be their Kin. Maybe Darktail and Needletail are right: I chose to fight for the cats who are important to me.
A rustling sound came from the tunnel through the brambles, and Rain pushed his way into the den. Violetpaw noticed that his injured eye was almost healed. “Greetings, Darktail,” the gray tom mewed, with a nod to his leader. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Darktail replied. “I’m glad you came; there are some things I need to discuss with you. What did you think about the way Grassheart fought in the battle?”
Rain shrugged. “Well, I’ve seen fiercer cats,” he responded.
Darktail’s tone sharpened. “Do you think she’s a traitor?”
Rain hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I think she could just do with a bit of extra training. Now, Dawnpelt… there’s a cat who needs watching.”
“You think so?”
Violetpaw’s pelt itched uncomfortably, as if ants were crawling through it, as she listened to the two rogues discussing her Clanmates. Do they ever talk about me like that? she wondered.
While Darktail and Rain were conferring, Needletail crept out of the den, but Violetpaw lingered a little longer, easing herself back into the shadows. Though she didn’t like what she was overhearing, she was pleased to see how well the two cats were getting along.
It hasn’t been that long since Rain challenged Darktail for the leadership and Darktail half blinded him, she reflected. She felt warmed and comforted at the thought that the larger group of cats—the ones Darktail had started to call their Kin—was more important to them than their rivalry.