The Darkest Moons (Warrior Cats)

77. Less Fortunate

     The rain, which had pounded down for four days, showed no sign of stopping. Scorchwing had never felt so sluggish as he did now. Mud had soaked into his fur in clumps and sludge, working its way up to his chin after he fell into a pit of it. The earth had given way under his paws. 

     “Can you hear that roaring?” Yellowfoot questioned. The patrol was heading towards the river. “The river’s definitely flooded.” 

      Scorchwing shuddered at the thought of the fierce water. Shadowstar had sent them to check the border and see just how badly the water was overflowing. The trees began to thin out, and Scorchwing could see the brown currents. His paws sunk into the mud, and as they broke the tree line, he gasped. 

      The water reached all the way to their paws, the reeds wiped out. The crossing log that acted as a bridge was gone. The water howled as it rushed past. Any cat that fell in there would be dead in an instant! 

     “Looks like we won’t be having any water voles for a while,” Froststrike hissed. “They’re probably all drowned in their tunnels.” 

     “WaterClan can’t be having an easy time,” Yellowfoot mewed. “What if they need help? We couldn’t get over there without going into TreeClan territory, and even that would be risky!” 

     Scorchwing felt sick to his stomach. Froststrike’s words still rung in his head. “They’re probably all drowned in their tunnels.” 

     What about FireClan? Their camp is in an underground cave system!  

     “You look tense,” Froststrike grunted.  

     “I’m worried about FireClan. Their camp is underground.” 

     Froststrike huffed. “They’re a whole other Clan. They can care for themselves.” 

     “What about the kits their? Tidefoot too?” Scorchwing challenged. Froststrike curled his lips. 

     “He left. He’s not our problem either.” 

      As Froststrike turned, Scorchwing and Yellowfoot hesitated, staring across the water. Scorchwing felt a pang of sympathy for the shaggy cat, who had once lived in WaterClan. Poppywings is his sister too. I’d be terrified. 

     “Let’s go!” Froststrike ordered. “I want out of this rain before I get whitecough, and we need to check the Streams.” 

     Scorchwing followed the deputy, shivering fiercely now as the rain pounded against him. The patrol took to the underbrush, following the floodwaters and walking along their edge as they separated from the river and to the Streams. The creek ran almost as quickly as the river, and as the three started down the slope, Scorchwing felt anxiety spike in him.  

     The tunnel that the Streams fed into was widened, fresh earth forced into it by the waves. Water spilled out over the Streams’ grooved sides, and where the creeks branched out, the forks were blunt. “All of DarkClan territory will be underwater,” He mewed. 

     “Not all of it, but chunks, yes,” Froststrike said gravely. “The pools will be much larger.” 

     “I don’t think I’ve seen such harsh rain, even during a Newleaf or a drought!” Yellowfoot exclaimed. 

     “Let’s go.” Froststrike started trudging through the mud, and Scorchwing kept just behind him.  

  

     Scorchwing shivered as he stretched out onto the dry earth of the apprentices’ den. He closed his eyes and sighed, willing himself to rest, and he shuddered when someone sat by him. She began to gently groom the rain from his fur, and he purred. “Thanks.” 

     “You look like a fish,” Poppyclaw teased, using a claw to tease a knot free. “You’ve been busy all day.” 

     “I just got back from a hunting patrol.” 

     “Everyone is busy.”  

     When Scorchwing turned his head to look at her, he found that Poppyclaw was staring outside. “What is it?” 

     “That FireClan cat is back. Whisperheart. There’s a warrior with her.” 

     Oh, StarClan, why? Scorchwing sat up and watched as the two cats, Whisperheart and Bluenose, spoke with Shadowstar. “They don’t seem angry.” 

     Shadowstar flicked his tail in the direction of the medicine den, and the two cats started towards it. 

     “I’m going to get a better look.” Scorchwing brushed past Poppyclaw and chattered his teeth when he slipped back into the rain. He jumped when he heard Shadowstar’s voice. 

     “Take them a piece of prey each,” he said. Scorchwing blinked and dipped his head, padding towards the elders’ den. The freshkill pile had been relocated there to protect it from the rain. He stepped inside and dipped his head to Sandfoot, who was telling a story to Spiderkit and Pinekit. 

     He never told us stories. Maybe he’s getting nicer in his old age. Scorchwing grabbed up a pair of mice and started back outside, hurrying towards the medicine den and ducking in. 

     “This happens every thaw, and during some Newleafs, but it’s never this bad,” Whisperheart said nervously. “The tunnels and pool usually drain it all out, and we barricades the entrance to keep out water. We even set up bars around the cave hole! But it all broke down and flooded in!” 

     “Should we really be saying so much?” Bluenose questioned as Scorchwing entered. “These cats-“ 

     “What’s the point? We come asking for herbs, why not tell them why?” Whisperheart retorted. “Scorchwing,” she greeted. 

     “Is everything okay?” Scorchwing asked, setting down the mice and nudging them towards the two FireClan cats. 

     Whisperheart shook her head in dismay. “Our whole camp flooded. It was so quick, it wiped out my stores. We’ve found a lot of mice and moles floating around drowned.” 

     Scorchwing felt terror grip him. “You have no home?” 

     “We have ways of coping,” Bluenose hissed. 

     “What about Petalkit?” Scorchwing shifted on his haunches, looking to Whisperheart for an answer. 

     Whisperheart huffed. “She’s fine. Tidefoot won’t leave her side. He helped save Thistletooth’s kit.” 

     Only one? I thought she had more. 

     Echolight emerged, backing out of her stores with a mass of herbs in her jaws. She set them down and began to wrap them in cobwebs, tucking a large leaf around them. “Marigold, and a bit of catmint. I’ve also put in some poppy seeds to help Thistletooth sleep.” 

     “Is she okay?” Scorchwing looked between the three cats. 

     “One of her kits drowned. Briarstar slipped and fell in.” Whisperheart motioned for Bluenose to pick up the bundle. “Is that all you can spare?” 

     “I’ll get some borage too.” Once more, Echolight disappeared, and shortly after emerged with the plant. “Here.” 

     Whisperheart picked up the herb and left the den without saying another word, and Bluenose followed. The mice lay on the floor uneaten. Scorchwing could see the dread hanging over Echolight. “Are you okay?” 

     “I’m sick of hearing about dying kits,” she hissed. “And Spottedmoss will have her own soon. What if she dies like Rainfall?” 

     Scorchwing, taken aback by his sister’s aggressive tone, shifted his paws. “I’m sure it will be okay. Rainfall always had issues.” 

     Echolight puffed and stepped into her nest, settling in it. “Leave me alone. I’ve been working overtime.”