The Darkest Moons (Warrior Cats)

53. A Hunting Trip

     Palemist did not listen to the chatter of his Clanmates. It sounded like nothing but faint buzzing. Instead, he thought of the gentle purring of last night. Spottedmoss had been cheerful, and once again, Clayheart was nowhere to be found. It had been a peaceful visit, spent under the stars, sharing stories of the kits in the camps. 
     He missed her. With all of his heart, he missed her. 
     A gentle prodding dragged him out of his thoughts. He looked up and blinked, fighting the glare of the sun. “Shadowclaw?” 
     “Ashtail is ready to leave when you are.” Shadowclaw said. “The prey pile is getting low. Thank you for offering to go out again.” 
     “Of course,” Palemist answered. He watched as the deputy padded away. Palemist scanned over the camp, eyeing his Clanmates. Scorchwing was arranging his own hunting patrol with Goldstreak and Miststep. Tidefoot, Rainfall, and Redwing were returning from a patrol. Skykit and Pinekit were tumbling about while Rosepetal watched. 
     “You’re going hunting?” Someone chirped. Palemist turned his head and watched as Spiderkit bounced towards him. The kit’s wound had finally healed after much work and stress. He had, surprisingly, grown to enjoy Echolight’s den. He was always there, watching enthusiastically and asking about herbs. 
     “Certainly,” Palemist answered. 
     “Bring me a big leaf! One that’s really round and huge!” Spiderkit pleaded. “I lost my other one.” 
     Palemist purred and touched his nose to the kit. “Of course. It’s the least I can do.” 
     “And a finch too! So we can all share it!” Spiderkit leaned against Palemist. “Please?” 
     “If I can’t find a finch, what about a rabbit?” Palemist asked.  
     Spiderkit beamed. “That’s even better!” 
     Palemist nodded. “I have to go. I’ll be back soon.” He stood and stretched, arching his back. Spiderkit sped towards the nursery where Echolight was talking with Tawnykit about picking herbs. I wonder if I’ll mentor one of those four. 
     “Shall we?” Ashtail trilled. Palemist shook his head to clear his thoughts and trotted towards the warrior. 
     “Let’s go.” 
     Ashtail looked smug. “I’ll catch more. I always do.”  
     “Three mice is quite a bit, but not as much as a large rabbit,” Palemist countered, prodding the she-cat with one paw. He strolled out of the camp, plotting. If Ashtail wanted to compete, he wouldn’t reject the offer, and he refused to lose. The WaterClan border is always a good place for voles. But the PlainClan border is good for rabbits. And wherever we go, we both have to agree on it. We’re on a single patrol to an area after all. 
     “I’m the older warrior here, so I’ll decide on where we go,” Ashtail teased, shrugging last. 
     You’re only twice my age, you absolute dope. “But wouldn’t I be at a disadvantage?” He played. “Shouldn’t I choose? You should be an expert at hunting any area by now.” She won’t deny it. She may be one of the sweetest cats in the Clan, but she’s competitive and proud. She’ll bite the prey. 
     “Nope!” She cheeped. 
     Foxdung! “Fine,” Palemist grumped. 
     “We’ll go by the Streams. There’s bound to be plenty of prey there.” Ashtail picked up her pace, breaking into a run. “I’ll race you!” 
     Palemist huffed. Unfair! He pushed forward and ran beside the cat, dodging trees and rushing under bushes. If she wants to scare off the prey, so be it! It’ll make her hunting harder!  
     When the two reached the Streams, they both panted and sat down to rest. “A tie,” Ashtail snapped. “You’re quick.” 
     “Certainly quicker than you,” Palemist joked. He took a deep breath and gave his sides a few licks to flatten the fur. “Let’s get to hunting. We can’t go back without anything.” 
     “I’ll go upstream,” Ashtail meowed, trotting away. Palemist watched her leave and snorted. As if she’d win.  
     Confident, he crept to the edge of the water. The creek was of average height, leaving plenty of room for the dry bank to show. Palemist sniffed at every other bush, careful not to step too heavily or move any pebbles. It did not take long for him to find a small hole leading into what could only be a water vole den. If I knew where the other entrance was, I could scare them out and chase them. He breathed in the scent of the rodents and pressed his ear to the ground. There’s definitely some there. 
     He climbed over the bank and searched for any signs of another entrance. If I can’t find it, I can probably dig another hole and scream at them until they come out. He checked along the bank again, looking for anything useful. Nothing! 
     A harsh weight fell upon him, a pain like that from thorns burning in his shoulders. Palemist cried out and writhed as teeth dug into his scruff and cut through his skin. “Get off of me!” He yowled, and he toppled to the side to shake off his attacker. The weight lifted, and he jumped to his paws and twisted. A paw slammed into his head and knocked him off of his feet. He failed as he hit the bank. 
     A familiar brown and white-face she-cat pounced onto him. Hawk! “Stop!” He spat, panic flooding over him as she shoved him by his throat into the water, submerging his head. He held his breath and lashed out with claws extended, kicking until he felt skin rip against his nails. The rogue cried out in pain and jumped away, snarling.  
     Palemist gasped for air when he emerged. He drug himself out up the bank and sneered at the rogue, fighting back coughs. “Get out of DarkClan territory!” 
     “Will it really be DarkClan’s for long?” Hawk hissed. “Your-“ 
      A yowl cut the she-cat off. “Eagle,” She mewed. She bared her teeth. “You’ve gotten lucky!” With that, the rogue sped off. 
     Palemist lashed his tail. Foxhearted coward! A cry of pain made him stiffen. Ashtail! That’s her voice! She’s fighting too!  
     Fueled by fear and anger, Palemist rushed upstream. Please StarClan, don’t let her be alone! The cuts on his shoulders and neck burned, and his lungs still ached from his drowning, but he refused to stop. He clambered up the hill, kicking up earth as he scrambled, and he thrust through the brush. 
     A ginger tail slipped away. The reek of blood made Palemist choke. He limped towards the heap of fur that was Ashtail. She’s still breathing! It’s so slow. Gashes lined her body, her belly sliced open, her throat cut. She was trembling, eyes rolling about.  
     “Ashtail!” Palemist gaped, pressing his muzzle to her neck. A gurgle came from deep in her throat. “Don’t talk. I’ll- I’ll get you back to camp.” 
      “Scared,” the she-cat whimpered. Palemist flinched as she raised a paw. 
      “Stay still! You’ll bleed out-“ He cringed as her claws dug into his pelt and raked his skin. Soft, barely audible sobs rocked her chest. 
     “I don’t . . . I- I-“ Ashtail’s eyes were as wide as moons. “W-Water-“ 
     “You’re okay. It’ll be okay,” Palemist promised. His fur ripped and her paw fell.  
     Ashtail sighed, exhaling her last breath. Palemist raked his claws through the grass and pressed his nose against her cheek. He could feel her blood soaking into his fur as he pushed against her, gently licking her ear. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. 
     Numb with sadness, Palemist stood and worked himself under the body. He shuddered when a bush rustled. Someone’s here. He glared into the bushes, but no one came. He heaved Ashtail’s body up and pulled himself to the brush. That’s Patchback’s scent. He’s gone to warn the Clan. He forced his way through the undergrowth. How many cats fought today? What patrols were attacked? The nausea of uncertainty crept through his belly. Was Ashtail trying to say ‘WaterClan’? 
     As he approached camp, Palemist felt as though he would collapse. He was certain he would. He bit back a whimper of his own as the tunnel briars tugged at Ashtail’s pelt. He heard a voice announcing that he was back. The whole Clan will be distraught. 
     He hauled himself into the center of camp. Cats were scattered throughout, all watching him. Many had scratches of their own from skirmishes during patrols. All had returned alive. Palemist gulped and wobbled a little further. He allowed Ashtail’s body to slide to the ground, and he sat, gasping. No one moved. 
     What’s wrong? 
     He looked up. Eyes were narrowed and questioning. He turned to see Blackstar on his ledge. Patchback was there, looking dark and angry. Blackstar bristled. A wail of distress arose from Miststep, Ashtail’s mother. Goldstreak comforted her. 
     Redwing streaked across camp, fire in her eyes. “She’s dead!” She shrieked, lunging. Palemist panicked and shouted as he was tackled.  
     “Stop!” Shadowclaw yowled. “Redwing, back off!” 
     Palemist crawled away. “What in StarClan’s name-“ 
     “Your fur is in her claws!” Redwing screeched. “You killed her! You-“ 
     Palemist could not speak. The accusation made his heart skip a beat. “I would never-“ 
     “Echolight! Check Ashtail’s claws!” Blackstar ordered. “Everyone, stay quiet!” 
     Palemist opened his mouth to speak but deemed it best not to. Echolight looked appalled as she sniffed and studied Ashtail’s claws, still outstretched. “It’s his,” she choked. 
     “This is ridiculous!” Palemist spat, turning to Blackstar. “What’s this about?”