The Darkest Moons (Warrior Cats)

18. Issues of Blood

     When they were only kits, Echopaw had gotten lost in the forest. It took the entire day to find her, and finally, Yellowfoot returned with her at his side. She was drenched from the rain, her eyes wide with deep horror. Palepaw never forgot that look of fear that had been plastered on her face.

She had the same look now, running through the forest as the snow fell, dread rolling from her pelt. She had been the one to suggest Rainfall go for a walk and get some exercise – had told him herself as they sprinted along, hearts racing. She had no herbs with her, having no idea of what to take with her. She had angrily yowled at the stores in her den, cursing Clearwhisker for not teaching her well, and insulting herself for being so stupid. And they had been off, the entire Clan watching, Blackstar looking grim on the ledge near his den.

The ground was almost white with snow when they reached the two she-cats. Palepaw shuddered as he heard Rainfall's pained cries, and anger flared in him at the sight of Helen leaning over the she-cat. Was she hurting the queen, who was in the midst of bringing new life to her Clan?

"You have to push," Helen urged. "Now! Hurry!"

"I can't!" Rainfall yowled. "It hurts!"

"Do it!" Echopaw shouted, running to Rainfall's side. "Push with all of your strength!"

Palepaw's pelt prickled with unease. He could feel a presence. Someone was nearby, or many someones, watching and waiting. The stink of the twolegplace attacked his nose. Rogues! "We're not alone," Tidefoot huffed, his breath white in the cold as the temperatures dropped drastically.

"Rogues," Palepaw growled. The last thing he wanted to do was fight. He was sick of it – sick of the rogues and their rancid stench.

Four cats crept out, lashing their tails. In the lead was the cat that had clawed Palepaw's eye, Fang, her black tail-tip moving slowly. She looked to Helen with a smug, satisfied expression when the loner turned to her with terror in her gaze. Beside her was the gray she-cat, who stared at Helen with deep discomfort and shame. Behind her was the ginger tabby tom, and with him was a tiny cream and brown she-cat that blinked her startling blue eyes in wonder.

"Well, well, a couple of Clancats to eat," Fang purred. "Why are you all out here in the cold?"

"This cat is kitting. Leave us alone," Helen urged, turning to the rogue. "If you hurt her, you hurt her kits."

"Good," the ginger tom said. "Kits give a Clan strength, and that's the last thing we want, right Claw?"

The gray rogue flinched at the sound of her name. "Yes, Ash," she mewled pitifully. As her eyes fell on Helen again, remorse flickered in them.

Palepaw crouched, ready to fight. Rainfall cried out as she pushed, and Helen glanced back to see Echopaw trembling. "Press her belly," she instructed.

"Be quiet, or we'll tear your fur off!" Ash warned.

"You're welcome to try," Tidefoot challenged, inching forward. Helen rushed between the two groups.

"We don't have to fight!" She insisted, turning to Fang. "Please, leave us in peace."

Fang bared his sharp, gleaming teeth. "Why do you care about these cats? About those kits?"

"I care about all kits," Helen countered.

"What about your own? The kits you stole away from Troy and abandoned with twolegs?" Fang snapped, stamping forward. "This is personal."

Helen whipped her tail. "He was not your kin. Stop your obsession."

Fang froze. Ash and the fourth rogue shifted anxiously, waiting to attack, caring not for the drama. Palepaw couldn't blame them. All he wanted was to drive them away. But if Helen wants to negotiate, let her try. It won't work.