FrostClan and EmberClan Chapter 12

Hey guys!! Sorry this chapter is ridiculously late. I spent a while on it and tried to make it as best as i possible could. Enjoy!

Chapter 12
Droppaw was carefully tagging along at the heels of Dapplestar. The grand old she-cat was pacing around the camp, shouting orders to warriors and turning to confide in her deputy Arcticnose. “Um, aunt Dapplestar?” Droppaw asked when the leader took a break for a moment. “You said you were going to tell me why we’re fighting. Can you tell me?” She blinked her violet eyes.

“Right, right,” said Dapplestar. “This is one of the most important things about being a leader and its important to know. I’m glad you’re interested, Droppaw.” The round-faced she-cat settled herself on a boulder, sun reflecting behind her and illuminating the tips of her fur. She cleared her throat, preparing for the lesson.

Dapplestar was tall and broad, with wide shoulders, a round jaw, and wide set eyes. Her red-brown and ebony black fur was swirled as though someone had dipped their paws into a lake at sunset and stirred up mud from the bottom floor until it blended with water lit by the orange sky. Her sister Mottleheart’s fur was more stippled--patches of brown here with black spots, patches of black here with red-brown spots, and white paws and muzzle, while Dapplestar was more blended and swirled and  possessed a white tail tip, blaze, and chest spot, with amber eyes instead of her sister’s green. Even so, the siblings certainly seemed to have a likeness they carried with them wherever they went.

The leader inhaled, preparing to start. “You’ve, heard, right, why we are fighting this clan, right?”

“Of course,” replied Droppaw. “They’re stealing our prey and hogging the lake. And they haven't left our territory even though said they were passing.” She smiled, proud to know so much about the grown-up clan politics.

“Exactly. These river cats from the south are threats to the clan.” She shifted herself again. “Still, though. Do you really know why we are planning to attack their camp?”

“Why?” asked Droppaw. “What’s the point of an attack anyways?” The apprentice shuffled her paws awkwardly, hoping it wasn’t a stupid question.

“The point of an attack? To fight the other side, dear.”

“No, no. Like, you’re going to fight and maybe hurt these cats, but you’re not going to kill them, right? So why not?”

“Oh.” Dapplestar bent over to lick her paw. “That’s a tough question to answer. One that’s central to who you are as a leader. It is the question that once answered, will make the difference between a benevolent leader and a cruel ruler.”

“Can’t you just answer it?” Droppaw asked, frustrated.

“Of course, dear,” Dapplestar chuckled, tussling the fur on Droppaw’s head with her broad paw. She considered for a moment, her amber eyes focused. “Okay. Think of it like this. Who annoys you a lot?”

“Falconpaw,” spat Droppaw, casting a glare at her brother, playing on the other side of the camp.

“Yes. Imagine Falconpaw did something annoying. Like he put thorns in your bed, flicked your nose, spread rumors about you to Woodpaw and Snowpaw, or--”

“Or he stole prey, or he filled the dirtplace with snow, or he squeezed a moss ball full of cold water on me when I was sleeping….” Droppaw rambled on.

“Let’s go with the stealing prey scenario, because that can happen with leaders,” her aunt suggested. “Imagine you caught the best hare ever. Its so big and meaty and you can’t wait to eat it. You set it down by your usual dinner spot on the Hailstone, and turn your back for one second to get a drink, and when you come back, Falconpaw has devoured it whole without leaving a bite for you.”

“Oh, I hate it when that happens,” growled Droppaw.

“And you might tackle him, right?” Dapplestar paused to let Droppaw nod. “You might, once you realize what he did, jump forward and pummel him as hard as you can with your claws until his face is in the snow while telling him to not steal your prey.”

“Exactly.”

“When you do that, you’re not really going to hurt him though, right?” The leader tilted her head.

“Well…” Droppaw trailed off.

“You don’t want to get in trouble. But more importantly, you don’t want your brother to be in pain for longer than a few seconds. So what are you trying to do then? You’re giving him a piece of your mind. Telling him that you hate when he does this and he can’t get away without consequences. It’s almost a warning for if he does something more terrible--you’re saying ‘I won’t let you get away with bad things. You should be punished for doing something wrong.’ Even if he laughs, he’ll still get the message you intended.”

“Wow,” muttered Droppaw. She couldn’t believe her aunt had tried to find the deeper meaning in a tussle with her brother. “I don’t think about all that when I smack his nose. I just get angry.”

“It’s subconscious, dear. You don’t realize you’re doing it, and most leaders probably don’t either. Do you think Ledgestar is really going to investigate our motives when he’s fighting for his life? Of course not. But he understands--any cat, even apprentices, can realize this, even if its subconscious. Any cat can understand. But a real leader can see the reasoning and ponder it before the attack. That’s what makes a leader. You don’t learn things no cat ever thought of. You just think about the things everybody knows.”

“So, aunt Dapplestar, why do we attack them?” Droppaw’s eyes were huge now as she studied the graceful leader before her.

“The point is proof you are strong. Proof you can defend yourself and bring justice to others. Maybe even to make them feel the same pain you felt, not so bad they die, but when you have the leader in your claws, right in your grasp, begging for mercy, you give them mercy, warn them, to beware your strength, to remember what you can do, to prepare for future fights.”

“But what if the other leader won’t beg for mercy, aunt Dapplestar?”

“Then, my dear Droppaw, you will make a choice. That is the choice that defines the leader you are.”

 

The sun baked her back. The rocks cut her claws. Hunger scraped her stomach. But her spirits were high. It felt like her heart was soaring.

Dropstar was leading the battle patrol, the troop she was taking up the mountain. Dropstar, Needletoe, Goldenshine, Woodfleck, Falconflight, Snowwhisker, Rabbitleap, Fawnstep, Pinetail, Frozenclaw, and Wolfstreak. Pouncing over boulders, crawling around ledges, dipping into gorges, wading through muddy rivers. For Wolfstreak, it was his first time beyond home, and his first true battle. His lungs weren’t used to the high altitude and his paw pads were still soft from the snow he walked on, but the young warrior insisted on coming, and refused to return home even when offered.

Dropstar told the clan. She had run into the camp full of mourners for her mother and cats trying to heal the injuries and sickness and destruction the blizzard caused, and made the announcement with Falconflight. It wasn’t long before they headed out that night. The next afternoon, they were still trekking along the brown and grey slopes.

“Wolfstreak, are you okay?” Woodfleck turned around and jumped down a paces to where her former apprentice was stopping to pant for a moment.

“I’m fine,” the tom wheezed. “How much farther do you think it’ll be?”

“Not sure,” called Dropstar. She turned to look ahead. The EmberClan camp was somewhere on the peak, swathed in clouds and smoke. The bitter, harsh land had next to no prey except for scurrying beetles the warriors had bitten into.

The land was never a smooth incline--it was always another ledge, another narrow path between rocks, another scramble over boulders. Muddy streams streaked across the mountainside, causing slips and falls. Dropstar urged them all to keep up their stamina and head onwards to the mountain peak. Her calls of “For FrostClan!” rang out through the small group and encouraged them to hasten their speed.

They were not far from the tip of the mountain when they came upon a somewhat clear creek. Her mouth dry and prickly, Dropstar led the warriors to the water, which was sprouting from a crack in two red-brown boulders. She settled herself near the boulders to watch her clan, before bending over to lap up the warm, brackish creek water. Already she was missing the soft snow underfoot across FrostClan territory. Cleaning up after the storm with the caretakers didn’t seem so bad now. However, she reminded herself of Mottleheart’s body lost in the snow and drank more of the muddy water. It still seemed so peaceful and lonely on the mountain. The thought of fighting cats seemed out of place, up here in the infinite strength of mountain and silence. Dropstar stayed for a moment, appreciating the quiet while it lasted.

“Wait,” muttered Goldenshine. Dropstar lifted her head to see the amber warrior squinting at something in the distance. “What’s going on?” she asked, water droplets she had been lapping up still falling from her beard and whiskers.

Goldenshine’s olive eyes suddenly grew huge. “Dropstar--LOOK OUT!”

The leader hardly had time to react before she felt the paws hit her back. The sheer force and shock of the attack sent her stumbling forward into the creek, water spraying at the sides, roaring in fury. Already warriors were rushing to the cat, but Dropstar managed to kick out her back legs at the attacker’s chest and send them back. The FrostClanner spun around and cornered the figure against the boulders, bellowing out a growl.

The attacker was a tom, with light brown fur and pale stripes. Dropstar’s muscles relaxed. “Tawnyjade,” she hissed. She could recognize those gray-green eyes and curling back from the gatherings before. He was the high-ranking, pompous, self absorbed warrior so typical of CliffClan. It was no wonder his high rank was maintained here in EmberClan.

“Dropstar,” the tom growled. Dropstar circled around him, mud dripping from her belly fur, her mane bedraggled.

“What brings you here?” the EmberClan cat hissed. He flicked his skinny tail at the staring clan of cats accompanying Dropstar. “You, and your many warriors?”

“There has been a blizzard in FrostClan,” Needletoe answered, stepping just behind Dropstar. “An elder has died. Dropstar’s mother. If it weren’t for EmberClan’s foolishness and lack of assistance, she would still be alive.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” replied Tawnyjade, with fake sincerity. “What have you come for?”

“To bring justice,” Dropstar hissed. “To make EmberClan feel the same pain we feel.”

The tan cat’s eyes widened. “An attack?” he whispered. “You’re attacking the camp?”

Dropstar curled back her fangs and lunged forward.

A second later, though, Tawnyjade was scrambling over the rocks, his tail cresting over the dark red boulders. Dropstar swung her paw at him, but when she jumped up, stirring clouds of dust, the tom was snaking through a crack between the rocks. She swatted furiously at the tiny gap, but the thin tom was gone.

Dropstar turned back to face the warriors. “He’s escaped. Gone to warn the clan.”

“We’ve got to get to the camp before he does,” panted Goldenshine.

Without a second to spare, the cats took off in a rush. Hurdling over creeks and jumping boulders, the pack ascended to the peak of the mountain. New, furious blood coursed through Dropstar’s tired legs and gave her the strength to press forward.

Suddenly, a clearing appeared over head. Dropstar skidded to a halt, twisting her tense, speeding body, as the path opened out into a lower section of land, filled with cats and hollows in the stone walls. The EmberClan camp, she realized with satisfaction.

But already, she could glimpse a panicked Tawnyjade speaking with Emberstar. She detected tense cats staring up at the FrostClanners with horror and rage as they prepared their claws. She curled her lip. They would attack the camp anyways. No need to fear. Dropstar heaved out a roar, calling the attention of every pair of eyes in the camp.

“Ah, Dropstar,” hissed a familiar voice. Embertstar turned her gaze to the tan-and-white leader, flicking her tail to dismiss Tawnyjade. “Come to give us a fright, eh?” Emberstar let her harsh orange glare sweep through her camp. “So what is this? Do you have anything to say to us?”

“Say to you? You think I brought my best warriors up here to speak with you? I already know that won’t work. I’m trying a new way.” Dropstar stared back at the dark she cat, and just for a moment, she thought she could see a panic flash through her eyes. Dropstar was surprised by how satisfied they made her. To her left, she could see Needletoe trying to analyze Emberstar through his grey eyes, his brow furrowed.

But a second later, the fear in the dark red-brown leader disappeared to be replaced with pride. “You were just weakened by the storm. Why an attack here?” Emberstar smirked, as though she just found a loophole in Dropstar’s plan.

“The storm’s the reason we’ve come, Emberstar. My own mother died because you were up here.”

“I’m not in charge of keeping your clan, Dropstar. Leave EmberClan alone.”

“That was my plan. But now that my own clan is suffering, I think my voice ought to be heard. Wouldn’t you agree?” The leader turned to her clan behind her, to be met with yowls of agreement.

“You only care when your mother is dead?” taunted Rattail, emerging from his den. The wrinkly tomcat had a permanent sneer stuck on his jowly muzzle. “She is, after all, a weak elder. What about the brave EmberClanners who sacrificed their lives as we made our way to this sacred place?”

Dropstar assumed he was referring to Mudslide, but she caught a bengal she-cat apprentice wincing from the edge of the clearing.

The white and tan leader’s eyes narrowed furiously. “Do not insult the elder or the StarClan member,” she growled.

She raised her head again, looking over the camp of warriors. Her heart pounded and her paws twitched, but she would do anything to defend FrostClan. She tilted her head towards Needletoe. “When I call for the attack, lead the warriors through to Emberstar. There will be guards jumping to fight for her. Attack them,” she whispered under her breath.

The air was tense, but she knew each of the cats standing behind her were smart, strong fighters. They would win. I will avenge Mottleheart.

“Attack!” she cried, her fur flaring, her heart pounding.

For a second, as the FrostClan cats streamed around her and made their first moves on the defensive EmberClanners, Dropstar stood on the ledge above the camp, watching the grey and white and blue and striped and spotted thick furred FrostClan pelts blend into the sleek, glossy, exotic red and brown and orange and cream EmberClan pelts, how the claws and teeth met each other but the cats were a swirling, continuous bloody mass. It was almost beautiful, in a twisted way.

But it only lasted for a few seconds. Immediately after, Dropstar crashed down onto the hard stone ground, and was swept up into the rush of battle.

Seconds later, Tawnyjade, Rattail, and a few others were jumping to the guard of Emberstar. Needletoe in the lead was in the lead, jumping forward at the guards while Falconflight and Goldenshine jumped around the warriors in circles to distract them. One brave blue and tan striped she-cat pounced on the back feet of Shadowfoot, who spun around, striking her across the ear. “Claw her chest!” Dropstar shouted over the battle cries. Woodfleck and Snowwhisker were both flanking her sides, jumping forward in small leaps to deflect hissing apprentice toms.

Dropstar swerved her head around. No EmberClanners had gotten to the other side of the camp. The heavy, large FrostClanners, though, were battling their way through to the opposing guards obscuring their leader. Dropstar continued to shout, stretching her neck, stamping her paws, watching as the sun beat down on the sweaty, muddy, bloody cats. She herself, although not fighting in the moment, was leaping back and forth, moving as one with the different cats returning to circle around her.

Suddenly, she heard a piercing yell. She craned her neck above to see a black cat leaping off of a small ledge, claws unsheathed, straight towards the FrostClan leader. Dropstar ducked her head just as he collided with her shoulders, and a second later, it was all scratching and hissing and rolling. Dropstar howled in fury and threw herself on the ground backwards, her shoulders hitting the stone, suffocating the black-furred attacker. He clawed his way out of the leader’s thick fur, yowling in pain. Dropstar stepped back for a moment to shake the drops of blood clinging to the thick strands of her mane. When she looked back, the tom had snuck back into the crowd.

Suddenly, fresh blood spattered across the stone floor. Tawnyjade was half on top of Goldenshine, twisting his faintly striped neck as he sunk his teeth into the FrostClanner’s tufted ears. Goldenshine yowled, his square-shaped muzzle curling up to reveal gleaming teeth. Dropstar felt anger surge through her as she pounded towards the two. She charged forward and then leaped, tackling the EmberClan tom off of the golden warrior, straight onto the ground. Dust stirred around them as she pinned Tawnyjade down, her back paws digging into his hind legs. Tawnyjade managed to bite the edge of her cheek, before Woodfleck jumped in and hauled him away by the scruff of his angular neck.

Dropstar stood up, a small cut burning from the side of her face. Another she-cat, whose name she remembered as Emberfall, was swirling her long, elegant tail in the air as she jumped around Wolfstreak and Fawnstep. Dropstar watched her with a wary eye as the leader caught her breath, then suddenly Emberfall darted forward and raked her claws along Fawnstep’s front legs. The tan colored FrostClanner hurtled back, straight into Wolfstreak, who spun around, dazed. Using her moment, the cream and brown bengal Dropstar had spotted before darted under the grey and white tom’s belly and hooked her claws into the soft pale fur. Wolfstreak began to fall upon the much lighter she cat, but suddenly his attacker rose to her full height and threw him off. Dizzy, the young warrior shook his head, before the bengal she-cat and another long legged apprentice cornered him against a wall.

Dropstar prepared to reach the tom and pull the two young she-cats away from him, but suddenly an electric pain shot through her as one of the apprentice toms crashed forward, sinking his sharp canines into her white tail.

Dropstar reared up, screeching, before turning her body behind her to the blue-grey apprentice and slamming her broad paws down on his head. The small tom wriggled under her grasp as Dropstar lashed her stinging tail, dripping blood over the battlefield and her back legs. “What are you trying to do, apprentice?” she snarled, her ears pressed flat against her skull.

“Let go of me!” the small tom cried, his silver-tipped fur bristling.

“What are you doing, attacking the leader?” Dropstar bared her fangs menacingly, blood dripping across her cheeks from a cut on her nose.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!” the little cat whined. His mossy green eyes were wide with fear, and he was trembling beneath the large she-cat’s paws.

Dropstar exhaled slowly, relaxing her grip on the cat just enough for him to crawl free. He lay on the ground, sideways, for a second, panting with exhaustion. Don’t hurt him. He was only trying to please his mentor, Dropstar thought, watching him through narrowed eyes.

“Rampaw,” whispered a gentle voice. A spotted ginger and tan she-cat, who Dropstar could recall last seeing as Stipplepaw, broke through the crowd. She was bedraggled, her spotted fur mussed and bloody, her eyes tired, her pawsteps weak. The tom called Rampaw on the ground, sputtered. “Please don’t hurt me,” he squeaked out. Fights were still breaking out on the edges of territory, but a few cats stopped their hissing and clawing to watch Dropstar looming over the scratched up apprentice. Dropstar wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Pity? Anger?

She recalled a lesson Dapplestar had once taught her, the lesson of letting an enemy loose without hurting them. It was in a fight with CliffClan, back in Dropstar’s apprenticeship days, when Ledgestar was the leader. It’s EmberClan now. No Ledgestar, no Mudslide, and no Claystar. Only Emberstar.

She surveyed the scene. EmberClan had fought back viciously. This young apprentice, only following orders from his leader. Now he was taking heaving breaths as he lay on the stone ground, blood running into his blue fur. “Brother,” he whispered. His voice faint. Dropstar twitched her ears. “Brother,” he gasped again.

Suddenly, the tom’s brow lowered, his muzzle curled, his tail lashed. His claws unsheathed from his pale grey paws. “NOW!”

Rampaw leaped off of the ground in a cloud of dirt as Stipple-something, another grey and black tabby, and a brown ticked apprentice shot off of the ground and all lunged for the stilled crowd. Rampaw himself aimed his newly energetic arms straight at the leader’s mane. “For EmberClan!” screeched Rattail as he descended into the new chaos, leaving the side of his fearsome leader.

“FrostClan will never die!” Dropstar reverberated, her deep voice as Frostclan cats formed a sea of thick pelts to fight back against the EmberClanners. She batted her claws blindly, striking any hissing faces not of her own clan that dared enter her field of vision. She was on her back legs, crashing down onto smaller cats, raking her teeth along their backs, deflecting their bodies with her tail.

At one point, Rattail darted right in front of her, hooking his curling claws into her mane. Dropstar’s blood pulsed through her legs as she grasped the loose, wrinkly skin on Rattail’s neck. The tom squealed in pain as she threw him off onto a rocky outcrop not far away from Snowwhisker and Shadowfoot, fighting back to back against Sunsnap. Wolfstreak was now dodging the fluid movements of the bengal she-cat and the other two tom apprentices.

Suddenly, Dropstar heard hushed whispers. She swiveled her ears and crouched in the shadow of a boulder. Tawnyjade and some lynx siamese parted to reveal part of a cat’s back legs. The elgs were dark brown striped, with red highlights. Emberstar, thought Dropstar. The leader seemed to be huddling with a guard. But Rattail, who almost never left the leader’s side, was several paces away.

Seizing the moment, Dropstar kicked her back paws against the craggy boulder, and lunged. She leaped over a few cats, not with the grace and speed of an EmberClanner but with ungiving strength and power. She was sure she could feel a blizzard whirling behind her violet eyes as her paws collided with the bony spine of the red leader, and suddenly, half a second later, the two where grasping at each other and rolling in a hazy blur.

Emberstar’s shrieks filled the air as the she-cat howled with rage, expertly dragging her claws along Dropstar’s forelegs, sides, and neck. Her tail looped in whirls and tangles as the other warriors became obscured by the flurry of claws and swipes. Dropstar knew she would never be fast enough to match Emberstar’s moves, so she used her weight to block and hold down the she cat. But still, Emberstar seemed to find a way to break free of Dropstar’s hold, and was now dancing, almost, around the she-cat, her eyes wild, her claws forward, darting in and under Dropstar, falling beneath the she-cat, tearing at her fur, blood blowing and swirling around the two.

Dropstar remembered that EmberClanners found fights sacred. They never interfered with the duel between two leaders, and they all would stand back and watch their leader battle. It was only Dropstar and Emberstar now, twisting and clawing and yowling like they were the only things in the world. The FrostClanners complied to the orders to stay where they were. Dropstar would have no help this time.

But neither would Emberstar.

Suddenly, the glossy striped she cat leaped into the air and twisted hallway, landing her claws square on Dropstar’s shoulders and wrapping her back legs against Dropstar’s hindquarters. “Get off of me!” Dropstar thundered as she tried to reach the she cat clinging to her pelt.

Suddenly, she thrusted her head forward and managed to sink her teeth around Emberstar’s scruff. The red-brown she-cat hissed and howled, but Dropstar managed to focus and drag the she-cat onto the ground. She threw Emberstar with such force that she had a second while the other leader caught her breath.

Without a second to spare, she lunged for Emberstar, all claws extended and her limbs splayed. The two collided on the hard ground, fur and blood spewing over the battlefield. Dropstar just kept slamming her paw down into Emberstar’s chest, refusing to let the she-cat break free of her hold. Eventually, she managed to get her paws tight around her foes neck, her grey claws just pricking the skin. Her other paw pressed the other side of Emberstar’s face into the dirt, preventing her from trying to bite Dropstar.

“Are you finished?” Dropstar hissed, leaning in close. Emberstar seemed to be trying to lay very still, the pulse on her neck thudding fast and hard.

“Why do I say it’s over?” the EmberClanner choked out. “You--you started this battle.” She smiled, still showing off her sharp, painful teeth. “Might as well finish it.”

Fury vibrated through her chest. “This no game.” An image of Mottleheart’s kind features, and her dead body, flashed through her. “We cannot count on EmberClan anymore to help us. If not, we will fight.” Spit was pooling under her tongue, and when she spoke she sprayed over Emberstar below her. Even though she could feel her heartbeat and every flicker of motion, the she-cat she pinned down was dead still. Her eyes were almost blank.

“Will EmberClan surrender?” Emberstar whispered. Her voice was so small, Dropstar couldn’t even feel the vibrations in her throat. But the look in her copper gaze seemed to say something. “No. Not this time. Not to Frostclan.”

Suddenly, all the tension Emberstar seemed to hold, turning her body stiff and still, seemed to release. Her muscles relaxed, and the she-cat sighed. Dropstar flicked her ears, confused. “I have you in my claws. If I want to, I could kill you.”

“But not really.” Emberstar shook her head, her round ears brushing the dust. “You wouldn’t. I am not scared. You are scared of what you can do. You’re not scared of me, though, right?”

“What--” Dropstar stopped. Something was wrong, deeply wrong in Emberstar;s eyes. Something wasn’t right. The world around her was dead silent, the fight, the final embrace, between the two leaders untouched by the warriors.

“Oh, Dropstar,” Emberstar breathed, her usually sharp voice soft as a feather.

And with that, the trapped she cat suddenly jumped free from Dropstar’s hold, skittering across the dusty rock, her fur bristling.

There was nothing Dropstar could do. It was half a heartbeat later that Emberstar was upon her, gripping onto her chest and sides, sinking her teeth and claws into the white and tan fur as deep as they would go, Emberstar screaming as she tore the skin of her old friend.

Dropstar opened her jaws to cry out, but it was too late. Blood was spilling out of her sides and neck, dripping in a steady stream onto the ground. Stunned, the leader blinked, staring helplessly at the spinning crowd of warriors.

“Oh my god,” she heard Needletoe whisper. “Somebody! Help her!”

A blur of fur began to pull her away from the field in the center. Other cats began to swarm around Emberstar, blocking her from view. Pain, pain, it rang through Dropstar’s body and numbed her fur and skin. The cats near her faded and came back into focus. A few cats leaned on either side of her, trying to hold her upright. A golden and red she-cat seemed to be helping guide her away alongside some FrostClan warrior. Who was this she-cat? Could Dropstar not recognize her own warriors anymore? She tried to look at the bleeding wounds, but was too weak and dizzy to stand upright. As she began to fade from consciousness, the cries of “Retreat!” and “It’s over!” filled the thick air of the blood stained battlefield.

Ma, are you there?