“I want to speak to Brokenstar,” she announced.
“He’s busy,” Hawkfrost replied, angling his ears to where Brokenstar and the other leaders were talking quietly together at the foot of the pile of tree trunks.
“But this is important,” Ivypool insisted.
Hawkfrost twitched his whiskers. “Do you have information we should know about?”
“No,” Ivypool answered, thinking fast. “I-I just want to know what I have to do to be treated like a warrior. I don’t want to fight at the back, where cowards hide. I want to be at the head of the attack, doing the most that I can to help my Dark Forest Clanmates.”
Hawkfrost blinked, looking impressed. “I knew you were special,” he meowed. “I’m glad I chose you. Come with me.” He turned and led the way toward the senior warriors. “Excuse me, Brokenstar,” he murmured. “My apprentice wants a word with you.”
Mapleshade let out a furious hiss at the interruption, her amber eyes glaring at Ivypool. But to Ivypool’s surprise Tigerstar beckoned her forward with a jerk of his massive head. “You can say what you have to say in front of all of us,” he mewed.
As she took a deep breath, Ivypool felt Brokenstar’s piercing stare burn her pelt. She tried not to flinch. He challenged my loyalty when Flametail wandered into the Dark Forest, she remembered. Oh, StarClan, let him believe me now!
She was aware, too, of other cats around her, hanging back from those who were filing into the trees. They were gazing at her in awe that a mere apprentice should dare to address the most senior cats in the Dark Forest.
This is the most important thing I will ever do for ThunderClan.
“Make me a warrior,” she meowed to Brokenstar. “I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust. I want to help you defeat the Clans as much as any cat here, if not more. Use me however you wish.”
The oldest of the leaders, little more than a faint shadow against the slimy trunk behind him, loomed threateningly over her. “Big words for one so small,” he growled.
Ivypool forced herself not to shy away from his stinky breath and his baleful eyes as he inspected her all over.
Brokenstar shoved him away. “Leave her alone, Maggottail.” Glancing around, he flicked his tail to summon another cat. “Come here, Antpelt.” When the brown tom was standing beside them, he addressed Ivypool. “You fought once before, and Antpelt lost. Can you beat him again?”
Ivypool swallowed hard. She knew exactly what Brokenstar meant. There can only be one survivor this time. She glanced at Antpelt, whose neck fur was bristling in anticipation of a fight. He’s dead already. He’s dead already, she reminded herself desperately. If I kill him here, it’s not like killing him for real. And maybe Antpelt would be better off out of this terrible place before the final battle. He was a good cat when I first knew him. How will he feel if he has to attack his former Clanmates?
For the sake of ThunderClan, for the sake of all the Clans by the lake, Ivypool knew she had to win this fight. She took a deep breath. StarClan help me!
Summoning all her strength, all the battle moves she had ever learned, and the last reserves of her courage, Ivypool sprang at Antpelt. He reared up to meet her; as she slammed into his belly he grasped her shoulders with his forepaws, raking his claws through her fur. The hot scent of her own blood hit Ivypool in the throat. Letting herself fall backward, she battered at Antpelt’s belly with her hind claws, and felt savage satisfaction when she gouged out tufts of brown fur.
Antpelt screeched and rolled away from her but as Ivypool scrambled to her paws he crashed into her side, carrying her to the ground again and slashing his claws down her flank.
He’s much stronger than before! Ivypool thought, fighting down panic. He must have done nothing but train since he died. What if I can’t beat him?
In the midst of Antpelt’s whirling claws, Ivypool grabbed his waving tail and bit down hard on it. Antpelt let out a yowl of pain and his attack wavered as he tried to tug himself free. Ivypool jumped free and crouched, panting, a fox-length away. Antpelt lay on the ground in front of her, his paws twitching as he tried to get up. He looked beaten. Bracing herself, Ivypool leaped in to deal the final blow, and in an instant he slid from underneath her and landed on her back, half squashing her. His teeth and eyes gleamed as he pushed his face close to hers.
“I can’t believe you fell for that old trick, mange-breath,” he hissed.
For a moment Ivypool lay still, unable to muster any more strength. Her wounds were screaming with pain and blood was trickling into her eyes. But then she felt the senior warriors watching her, curious but not concerned, as if they didn’t really care which cat won, and Ivypool remembered how much depended on her victory. She made a wild, bee-brained promise to herself: If I win this fight now, then the Clans will win the final battle.
Ivypool pictured Dovewing, Firestar, and all her Clanmates, and the images gave her a surge of strength, right to the end of her claws. She heaved herself up, throwing Antpelt off. Before he could find his feet, she landed hard on top of him, slamming him to the ground. Then she lifted one paw, ready to rip his belly open from throat to tail.
Fear flashed into Antpelt’s eyes, but Ivypool looked away. It was too late for her to back down—and too late to save Antpelt from the final battle any other way. Ivypool’s paw sliced down, and she felt warm blood welling between her pads. Antpelt spasmed once, then lay very still. His outline wavered, as if Ivypool were seeing him underwater. Then she realized that she could see the withered grass beneath him, and a pool of dark scarlet spreading wider and wider. Antpelt grew paler and paler, his fur turning transparent until he was hardly a shadow on the floor of the clearing. Ivypool blinked, and he was gone. Only his blood remained, staining the cold damp earth, but even that was fading now.
Did I do the right thing? she wondered, numb with horror.
Brokentail padded over to her. “Oh, you’re a Dark Forest warrior, no doubt about that,” he rasped in her ear.
Ivypool had to stiffen every muscle to stop herself shrinking away from him. That’s the worst thing that any cat could say to me!
“So you’ll tell me when the final battle will be?” Ivypool mewed, trying to sound eager. “And let me fight alongside you?”
Brokenstar blinked slowly. “Maybe.”
“But I just proved my loyalty to you!” Ivypool protested.
Brokenstar turned away. As he padded off, he glanced over his shoulder and growled, “You should have been loyal already.”
As Ivypool stared after him, Hawkfrost appeared at her side. “Well fought,” he meowed. He sounded impressed, and Ivypool thought she saw a flicker of fear in his ice-blue eyes. “You’ve earned your place among the warriors,” Hawkfrost continued. “If you want to know anything, just ask me. I can see how much this means to you.” Flicking his tail toward the edge of the clearing, he added, “Now go train some of the apprentices.”
Ivypool watched him go, then began wiping her paw on the grass to clean off Antpelt’s blood. The stain on the ground had already vanished. Ivypool wondered if she would ever get the reek of his death out of her fur.
A heartbeat later she was aware of another cat approaching, and looked up to see Breezepelt. The WindClan warrior was staring at her in horror. “What happened to Antpelt?” he whispered. “Did… did you kill him again?”
Ivypool wanted to tell him that she had been forced to kill Antpelt, that she only did it for the sake of the Clans. And I’ve saved him from something worse. But she knew that she was still being watched by the leaders of the Dark Forest; she could feel the prickle of their intent gaze in her fur.