The noise of Brookstar's heavy, labored breathing filled the den. Her sides fell sharp as she laid in her nest with her eyes half closed. Beetlewing lingered in the entrance, wedged between two long lichen ropes, watching his leader with a heavy heart as Dustfoot approached. She set a wet ball of moss beside Brookstar's muzzle and sat down. Beetlewing stared at her, silently demanding assurance that his leader would be okay, but Dustfoot said nothing when she glanced toward him.
"Beetle-" Brookstar cut herself short and sputtered. She winced and laid her head on the edge of her nest. "Beetlewing."
Beetlewing stepped closer. "I'm here."
Brookstar's eyes widened as she stared up at her deputy. "Have- Have the Clan prepare." She paused for another coughing fit and Dustfoot pushed the wet moss ball closer. Brookstar ignored it. "Prepare for the battle we planned. Don't let me stop you."
"I will." Beetlewing bowed his head to his leader. "We'll take back the border from TreeClan. I'll be sure of it."
"Good. Good." Brookstar shifted in her nest to rest her head once again on the edge. "Fight well."
"Brookstar, rest," Dustfoot mewed. She shot a careful glance to her brother. "I'll take care of her. You get the Clan ready for tomorrow."
Beetlewing took a deep breath and once again dipped his head respectfully to the two. It hurt to leave his leader behind. She would be stuck in camp due to her illness, unable to witness her Clan in its attempt to retrieve what was rightfully its own. I'll tell her all about it once we return. And once she doesn't have to worry about it, she'll be able to recover.
We're going to tear TreeClan apart.
Beetlewing raked his claws through the grass as he peered into the forest. The whole Clan stood behind him, pelts bristling as they peered into TreeClan's forest. He had never felt so powerful, so willful and even confident. We'll take back the north border and then some.
"Poppywings," Beetlewing whispered, "tell the Clan that we're crossing now, and to be quiet. Remember the plan."
Poppywings dipped her head and scurried into the crowd. Without thinking, Beetlewing started forward, curling his lip at the TreeClan scent. The stream formed a natural border between the two Clans, yet TreeClan often refused to honor it. This battle would take back the territory they stole past the stream, and then some, as payback for the trouble they had caused.
The only noise came from the crickets and frogs. WaterClan slid through the stream like fish and emerged soaked, easily shaking the excess water from their pelts and continuing into the forest. Beetlewing glanced over his shoulder and watched as Reedtail and Piketooth split from the group, going in both directions to mark the nearby trees. Other cats began to move out to do the same. Good. TreeClan will lose their minds trying to mark everything.
Once the warriors were back together, they moved into the forest. The trees seemed to cling together, branches interwoven to boot out the sky. Beetlewing's fur prickled with discomfort. They can't even see the stars here. The trees block everything out.
"These woods are thicker than DarkClan's territory, and that's saying something. And it's dark here," grumbled Coldwings.
"Hush!" Swiftcreek snapped. Beetlewing flattened his ears. Coldwings was right, he could hardly see his paws, and the undergrowth clawed at him. We're making too much noise. Will we be able to use this land when we take it?
Brookstar wanted this. We have to put faith in her and her wishes.
TreeClan scent hung thick in the air. Too thick. Beetlewing lifted his tail to signal to his warriors and everyone stopped. A patrol should be near here. They always have night patrols. But this smells too strong.
YOU ARE READING
Warriors: Beetlestar's Path
FantasyBeetlewing of WaterClan has always faced difficult choices; choices of love, of war, and of heart. As a deputy, and soon as a leader, he finds that his difficult choices now affect not just himself, but the entirety of WaterClan. With his past conne...