The Surviving Few (Warrior Cats)

Chapter 13.5 - acts and insights

"You shredded their camp?"

Ice spoke calmly like he always did, his eyes narrowed as he watched the two cats standing before him. Snow's head hung low, paws shuffling the ground beneath her. She did not dare meet her leader's eyes.

"You followed their exact trail, ruined their camp, and then left without waiting to see where they'd go next? Isn't that the job of a spy? To observe the Survivors' every action, and remain hidden, undetectable? Untraceable?"

Snow, if possible, seemed to shrink even smaller beneath her coat, as if hoping the ground would swallow her whole. Her eyes flicked from one cat to the next, pleading. Please help me, her gaze said. Please.

Dew's heart sunk low in his chest as his eyes locked with hers. Sorry, he thought. If things were different, and if speaking up for the white she-cat wasn't a direct threat to his position as a Third, he might have. If death was not the inevitable result of doing so, he might have.

Fog, however, held his chin high, meowing, "We thought it was necessary to let them know that we're aware of their existence. So, yes, we did those things. I don't understand how that is wrong."

If Fog was scared, he showed no signs of it.

Reckless tom, Dew thought with a shudder. He shook his head. I always knew you'd do something like this. Going against Ice is an admirable act, to say the least, but don't you realize the consequences?

"And whose idea was this?" asked Ice, a slight thrill to his voice.

When the two spies kept quiet, he mewed, "my apologies. I meant to say, tell me whose idea it was. Now."

Snow sunk to the ground, letting out a soft wail of despair.

"Please, it- it was Fog, he- he told me... he said—"

Fog bared his teeth in anger, growling under his breath. Before he could speak, Ice asked, his voice souding softer than the moment before, "what, my dear Snow, did he tell you? What could possibly have led you to do this? I promise, I won't punish you, if you promise to tell me the truth. Go on, now."

Snow's reply came out as a miserable sob, and she stammered, "he told me that he'd- that he would tell you I'm..."

"That you're what, exactly?" Ice's eyes were fully open at last, gleaming with interest. Hatred burned within Dew; Ice acted as if he cared, cared for his cats, but he was eager to punish them all at the slightest mention of disloyalty. Clearly, he could not care less whether they thrived or suffered. All he wanted was to control them.

"...Disloyal!" Snow buried her face in her paws, her ears flattened. Fog could only stand, gaping, his whole body shaking in anticipation. Dew watched helplessly; he kept his posture stern and his ears drawn back, only to keep up his feared image. There were times he regretted all that he had done to reach his position within the group. He was undoubtedly what the Clans would call a fox-heart.

Ice leaped from the tree trunk he stood on and moved toward Snow. Fog stood, shoulder fur bristling, a snarl on his face, beside her. His gaze was quite panicked. Now he, too, refused to meet his leader's eyes.

Ice nudged Snow to her paws, surprisingly gentle for a cat his size.

"And are you disloyal?"

Snow gasped. "No! I- I've never even considered going against you, ever!" Her voice shook, but she spoke clearly, confidently. At last she looked up, her eyes — shining with certainty — meeting Ice's.

He mewed, not unkindly, "of course you aren't. I've never doubted you for a heartbeat." His tail stroked Snow's back.

"You, however..." He turned to Fog.

"But they killed Cinder!" Fog's fur bristled, enlightened in the bright sunlight. "They killed your mate! They deserve to have their camp destroyed! They deserve to die, every - single - one of them!"

"I am the leader," Ice meowed coldly. "I make the rules. And, according to my rules, liars like yourself deserve the gravest punishment of all: death. Snow, please, could you end him for me? I don't want his traitorous blood on my paws." He sounded almost bored.

Dew was not even surprised. He hated that it had come to this, yet he had seen it happen countless times before. It was almost as if, now that most of the Clans were gone, Ice didn't care that he was killing his own cats one by one.

"But- but I-"

"If Fog tries to fight back he'll have me to deal with."

Snow stared down at the ground. "But I get so nervous when you're all- all watching me," she mewed softly. "I'm sorry."

What are you playing at? Dew watched with mingled curiosity and dread.

Ice touched his nose to Snow's cheek, then spun around and padded up to his tree trunk. "Then we won't look. Cats, I want you all off the island. Dew, you can stay." His mew was edged with poorly disguised impatience. He sat looking out at the poisoned lake, his tail lashing.

The others all moved toward the tree-bridge, crossing one by one. As soon as they reached the other side, they raced off, letting the forest conceal them in its shadows.

"I hate you!" Fog blurted out.

Ice sat quite still. "Okay. Snow, please. Dew'll make sure you survive."

Dew narrowed his eyes so that his vision blurred slightly. "We don't have all day," he hissed, regretfully. Ice had to believe he was on his side. It was the only way.

Snow leaped at Fog, a flurry of white overtaking a greater shape of grey. For a while, they rolled over each other on the grassy ground, both seeming hesitant to unsheathe their claws. They still care for each other, deep down, Dew realized.

With a furious hiss the grey shape threw itself at the white, flashes of red contrasting their light, ruffled appearances.

Dread prickled beneath Dew's pelt. He opened his eyes, unwillingly sliding his claws out. Ice still was not looking. Perhaps... perhaps, this once, he could do what he knew was right. For Wildfire. For Snow. For all the rogues.

Rogues. Another Clan word.

Dew threw himself between the two, shoving snow away with his hind legs and pushing Fog to the ground. Turning to Snow, he breathed, as quietly as he could, "knock him out. Don't kill."

Fog's yowling and struggles were sure to drown out all other noise. Ice would not — and could not — hear.

"I wasn't planning to," Snow whispered back.