[the siege]

vi. chapter six

Cloverfrond howled with pain as a pale yellow tom leapt on him, raking his claws down the side of his ruffled fur.

Kingfisherstar was wrestling with a silver tabby she-cat that was writhing under the RiverClan leader's strong grasp. Kingfisherstar let the tabby go after batting her ferociously around the ears and the she-cat screeched with pain and flew off into the trees.

But this small victory was minuscule compared to the huge war that they had been fighting for the past half-moon. They were constantly hiding in bushes, hunting for scraps of prey to stay strong enough to keep fighting, and tussling with these rogues.

But no matter how hard RiverClan tried to defeat these cats, they always seemed to know their plans. They always seemed to know where they were and their tactics.

Next to Cloverfrond, Goosefur and her apprentice, Bubblepaw, were battering at a large black tomcat, his eyes squinted with pain. But then, a lithe cream she-cat leapt out of the shadows and knocked Bubblepaw to the ground. Goosefur stopped for a moment to try and help her apprentice and in that split-second, the tom jumped up and bowled over Goosefur, taking advantage of her weakness.

"RiverClan!" Kingfisherstar yowled, her eyes clouded with pain. "Retreat!"

As the RiverClan cats streaked through the bloody battlefield, Cloverfrond couldn't help but notice that the winning cats, these invaders, didn't even seem to notice their victory. It was as if they were just being controlled by something larger. Like they didn't know what they were doing.

Cloverfrond shook the thought from his head to make space for the new ones to float through.

He grunted in frustration as he saw the one cat that looked like he was pleased with himself—the ginger tabby tom that had declared war on RiverClan last moon. He was grinning from his place high up in the trees. That was where he had been for the entire battle—safe up in the trees where no RiverClan cat could get to him.

Cloverfrond hissed under his breath as he saw the tom that had simply watched the grisly battle in front of him and his soldiers fighting with their lives staring at Cloverfrond through beady black eyes. Cloverfrond cursed and spat on the ground, whisking around and streaming after his clanmates.

"How did the battle go?" Otterstream asked worriedly, her eyes flitting around at the injured, limping cats that were trailing into camp, dragging themselves towards the medicine cats' den.

Cloverfrond grunted, his wounds stinging, but managed to answer through gritted teeth. "As well as any of our other battles, I suppose."

Otterstream looked sympathetic, her eyes filled with grief. "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there. Last time we were fighting, I guess I must've broken my ankle." There was no mistaking the sad acceptance in Otterstream's eyes as she looked at Cloverfrond with sorrow.

Cloverfrond's jaw fell slack as he stared at her. "Your ankle is broken?"

"That's what Waspshine told me, apologies" Otterstream murmured, not daring to look her friend in the eye. "He said that it may never heal properly since I put strain on it carrying back other cats from the last battle and that I might be stuck not being able to hunt or fight ever again."

Cloverfrond could hear the bitterness in the pale brown tabby's mew and he couldn't say that he blamed her. They had been fighting side-by-side against the Siege when a branch snapped from above them and crushed Otterstream's leg underneath.

Cloverfrond winced as he saw Otterstream waddle awkwardly around, limping because of her injury. He glanced towards the sky, clouds gathering overhead, and begged StarClan for Otterstream's leg to heal.