Redstorm's Shadow

Chapter Two

"Brackenclaw." A voice as sharp as thorns hissed in the shadows, and a lithe white wolf emerged from the black clouds of smoke that lingered in the forest. A pair of wide blank eyes gazed at the dark ginger leader with distaste, and slowly the Silver Wolf approached him. "Scared, forest mutt?" she snapped. Brackenclaw growled, fearing he'd gone too deep into the Blood Realm. Tight, overbearing vines clung to the wide treetops, and foul scents hang in the air. How the Silver Wolf could live in a place so evil Brackenclaw didn't know. "My warriors and I are ready for you," he hissed. His enemy let out a cold laugh. "Yes, I think so, too. In fact, some of them are more ready than even you know." "How do you know that?" Brackenclaw rasped. The Silver Wolf lashed her tail into the thickening black smoke to uncover a tense training ground. A sandy hallow was dug up, with wide, open trees to practice climbing skills. Thick undergrowth surrounded a pile of gorse bushes, easily matching his own territory, while a thin stretch of water marked Thorn Pack's land. All around him, the four Pack lands were being copied, and Brackenclaw could see wolves from the other Packs training in them: an amber-coloured Fire Pack warrior was practicing battle moves in the Scar Pack undergrowth; and a large tortoiseshell with a thick black tail was training in Frost Pack's area. From his scent, Brackenclaw guessed he was from Thorn Pack. "See? They're training for something special." Brackenclaw felt his paws rooted to the mossy ground, but he wanted to run – run so he didn't need to see anymore. The wolves in the Blood Realm were practicing their killing moves, not any of the skills the Packs had taught them. "Look closer, mutt!" the Silver Wolf taunted. She beckoned him with her tail, and Brackenclaw could see the heart of the Blood Realm…

A pale half-moon glowed near the smooth slab of rock, turning it a strange white glow. All around the thick, dense shelter, a tangle of undergrowth wrapped its bracken arms around the Blood Realm forest. Redstorm crumpled under the weight of his assailant, as Amberdawn grappled the reddish-brown wolf with ease. His black paws scrabbled in fury, and he toppled over with the brown she-wolf still clutching his back. Birchfang, the most powerful wolf among his warriors and the deputy of the Blood Realm, edged up to them. "Stop!" he snapped. His thick brown pelt was battered with scars that ran across his back, and his fading blue eyes glowered at the two warriors. His elongated claws scraped the rock, and Redstorm looked down to see thin but deadly sharp cat's teeth jutting out from the front. The wolves leaped to their paws as their mentor inspected them both, teeth bared, and pelt ragged and torn from sparring with Orangefrost that evening. "If you want to waste your time fighting like weak mutts, then you aren't welcome in the Blood Realm!" the brown wolf snarled. "It's fools like your pack friends that go around protecting the weak and rejecting strong warriors like us!" He took a small step forward, his claws unsheathed. The long teeth gleamed wickedly in the darkening moonlight, turning them a rusty gray. "My pack is not weak!" Redstorm yowled. "If you weren't soft as them you would learn something," Birchfang hissed. A voice from the cold shadows snarled, "That's the law of our Realm." The swirling mist of gray parted to let Orangefrost stalk into the clearing. "Remember it, or suffer like those pathetic pack fools." Birchfang lashed his tail angrily. "You will learn that fighting with us is the only way you will survive." He let a growl like thunder escape his throat. "Go back to your nursery," he continued mockingly. "The other warriors have a meeting to host." Amberdawn leaped to her paws eagerly. "Can we…" Orangefrost narrowed her eyes coldly at the young warrior. "Of course not!" "While you're still with those soft pack wolves you'll never be one of us." Rushpelt slunk into the clearing and sat regally at his deputy's side. His dark gray fur was stuck in matted clumps at his chest and his wounds were still fresh from training. "But we're true warriors now!" Amberdawn argued. "And I'm not tired!" Orangefrost rounded on the young wolf, her gaze cold as ice. "Go away," she snarled, unsheathing her long claws. "Before we make you!" Amberdawn growled, but made no further protest. She watched as the Birchfang and Orangefrost padded out into their forest, Rushpelt hurrying after. Redstorm twitched his tail deftly, his paws already getting into a crouch. Amberdawn looked at him like he was a weak loner that had lost its way near the wolf clan. "Are you coming or not?" she hissed. "Later," Redstorm said coldly. "I've got to do something first." He dropped his tail and placed one paw delicately onto the slimy moss-covered ground. He could hear Amberdawn's warnings ringing in his ears as he left the den, but he still padded on into the Blood Realm's forest. He had to know what this meeting was about, and why Orangefrost didn't trust them to come. Redstorm stopped as he heard the warriors talking amongst themselves. He pressed his muzzle deep into the ferns as more and more wolves gathered around a steep hill made from the claws of dead mutts. Redstorm gasped. He searched for Birchfang, and saw that the brown warrior was sitting atop the mound, his chest puffed out with pride. No other warrior could be this ruthless! How wasteful, how evil these wolves were. He stopped as he heard Rushpelt's throaty hiss. "What if we attack from the river?" he sneered, raking his claws along an oak tree. "No," Orangefrost growled. "It has been decided. One half will flank the left side of the Black Forest, and the other will take the right. Once we wipe out the first wave of warriors, the others will be no problem to handle." "No," Birchfang snarled, leaping down from his post and landing on a smooth surface of rock. "This is what we know – soft wolves are weak wolves. We fan out and get rid of the true threats instead of fools that can die off easily." "Like that mutt Brackenclaw!" hissed a creamy she-wolf who was sitting near the mountain of dog's teeth. "Exactly, Icepelt, and we will save him for last." Rushpelt nodded his assent. "And what about Knifestorm? She would be a perfect weapon, capable of handling all of them with one paw." "What if she turns on us?" Blackheart of Thorn Pack hissed. Redstorm could see the muscles churning under that magnificent glossy tortoiseshell pelt. "She might spread rumours in the camp. If things get out of hand…" "Rest assured that will not be the case." The brown wolf lashed his tail in satisfaction. "If she so much as whispers our plans in her sleep, I'll have her dead before you could rustle your pelt!" His icy gaze burned through his warriors' each in turn before continuing. "But I will give her the chance to prove herself. She could be a great and worthy warrior." "And what will we say at the next truce?" a golden-brown warrior hissed. "Will we continue to focus on the other Packs?" "We will, Rustclaw," Birchfang growled. "If we breach that effort, all our careful planning will be for nothing!" The brown wolf unsheathed his claws and scraped the elongated mutt's teeth against the rock face. A tortoiseshell warrior spoke up harshly. "Will there be any threats guarding the salt lake? If that is the case we have already lost the war before it has been fought." Redstorm wondered if she was from another pack. From her scent, she was from no warrior clan Redstorm ever knew. Orangefrost hissed impatiently. "No, Brokenfall; Stormpelt will see to that." She nodded to a pale ginger warrior with a scarred muzzle and a twisted jaw. He stared ahead at Birchfang, his eyes shining with admiration. "For too long, Brackenclaw has destroyed the strong and protected the filth," Birchfang yowled. "But now has come the time to declare yourselves. Come with me now, and you will receive a life of power and strength. Death to Brackenclaw!" The clearing was filled with howls of assent. Orangefrost took up the battle cry, followed by a victorious howl as the wolves spilled into the open. Pelts snagged against nettles and the heavy thrum of paws drummed onto the forest floor. Redstorm felt himself backing away as the pounding in his head ached. He raced toward the den, keeping close to the bracken as all around him the other wolves filed out of the forest. The ghostly wail of the battle cry thrummed in Redstorm's ears as he weaved through the sea of hazy mist. Surely, Birchfang would kill him if he knew…

"Watch it!" Amberdawn hissed. Redstorm lolled to one side, crashing into Amberdawn as he did, his eyes finally open. He was safe in his den, his hind paws curled around his mossy bed, but his front claws were prickling Amberdawn's fur. Redstorm hurriedly sheathed them; sheepishly looking down at his shaking paws he tried to stop them from violently thrumming against the pine needles scattered across the den floor. "Sorry, Amberdawn," he muttered. "I didn't mean…" All around him, he could see the other warriors sleeping peacefully around the shelter, not even stirring as the sound of drizzly rain splashed off the den roof. "I was dreaming and you were ripping my pelt off!" Amberdawn snarled. Redstorm blinked in surprise. "Of what?" he countered. "Birchfang being your deputy?" He lashed his tail in fury, unable to contain his rage on the mottled brown warrior. "That noble wolf has taken us in, Redstorm," Amberdawn hissed. "And he has promised us a greater power than Realm of Light itself. Don't you want that?" "Noble!" Redstorm howled, loud enough to wake up half the pack. "Has he gotten to you, too? Do you have any loyalty to Brackenclaw?" "Of course not!" Amberdawn sneered. "Brackenclaw is too soft for his own good. If he had half the brains of the Silver Wolf he would know to give himself up." "How dare you say that, you piece of fox dung!" Redstorm yowled. "You should listen to yourself – you sound like Knifestorm!" For a heartbeat, the brown warrior looked almost content. Then she knit her face back into a deadly scowl, glowering at her fellow warrior. "There, only the strongest rule the forest," she hissed. "I would rather be a part of that than keep living with you weak mongrels." "Not even Orangefrost is that ruthless," Redstorm snarled. "Would you leave your clan behind if it was weak? Your littermates?" "I have no littermates," Amberdawn sneered. "Not anymore." "Wrong. Brackenclaw has treated you like his family. As a leader…" Amberdawn stiffened, her pelt fluffed up for warmth. "You think Brackenclaw is a great leader? The only wolf worth following is the Silver Wolf!" "Then join her, you heartless traitor." Redstorm growled. He tried settling against his mossy bed, trying to get comfortable. But the bedding was frozen stiff, as if all the body heat was leeched out of it, and so Redstorm lay there, cold. He shuddered to think what would happen if Amberdawn tried to lead him into this mess. He struggled to get comfortable under the freezing weather and asked his warrior ancestors for guidance.

But not even the Realm of Light could relent this overwhelming tide of death.