Hostile

22

The battle patrol staggered into camp. Their coats were coated in blood, and the sky mimicked the scarlet hue.

"Oh, StarClan!" Riverpelt breathed as Frostcloud limped through the gorse tunnel. The warrior cast her eyes away from her mother, unable to bring herself to meet the heartbroken crack in her blue eyes.

Frostcloud wasn't certain how she looked herself, but her patrol was shattered. Foxpaw leaned on her mentor, who did as she could to feign strength for the frightened apprentice.

Buckheart had kept in pace with Frostcloud the entire slog home, wheezing with every pawstep like air threatened to choke him.

Warmheart and Dustclaw limped ahead of them, their tails dragging as exhaustion took hold of their muscles.

Feathertail, Cricketlegs, and Crowfur took the tail of the patrol; Doeface's scruff in her former mentors jaws, and her limp body slung over the backs of Cricketlegs and Feathertail.

Pinecats surrounded the patrol. Each returning cat was stained in red, coated in quills that stemmed from their skin like trees from MarshClan earth. Beaten, broken, drained.

Sunfur wailed, breaking into a run to meet her daughters cold body. Duskfur broke to the front of the crowd next. With his yellow eyes stretched in horror, and his mouth agape, he stumbled to Doeface as the returning patrol set her to the ground gently. Frostcloud refused to watch the scene unfold; she had brought Bailey back to Red Barn with Duskfur's help. She couldn't bear to see the tom fall apart.

Whitestar pushed through the crowd. His muscles were stiff under his skin, frozen in dread. His yellow eyes laid on his daughters limp body, glossy, confused, frightened. Then just as quickly, the fur along his shoulders rose and his eyes became broken and sharp. "Riverpelt! Slatethorn! Come with me. By StarClan, this porcupine must be chased off our land!" He roared.

Riverpelt choked on her own words, stuttering. "Please go," Frostcloud said to her quietly, "I'll be here when you return."

The she-cat nodded stiffly. She wanted to stay here, with her only kit. Frostcloud knew. But the porcupine was a larger threat than the quills that suck from her hide.

The three cats ran out of camp briskly, and Dawnheart was the next cat to captured the Clans attention. She had barely glanced at Doeface; there was nothing she could do to help the warrior now.

"I need the quills to be pulled from the returning patrol. It will not be pleasant." Dawnheart announced, "Ferretpaw, Badgerpaw. I need you two to gather sturdy twigs for these cats to bite down on."

The two apprentices exchanged glances before bounding away from Foxpaw, Dustclaw, and Leafear. The medicine cat scanned the warriors, making one pawstep to Crowfur before he spoke up, "Help the others first." He ordered. Frostcloud winced. The deputy carried more quills than any other Clancat, but he insisted to be looked after last. How many cats could be so selfless?

Feathertail had a few quills jutting from his own body, and Dawnheart pulled them first. Feathertail stood boldly; not a mouse-weight of pain broke through his slit eyes as she yanked the spikes out. Frostcloud wondered if his bravery was intended to provide some comfort to the Clan.

The apprentices returned with several thick twigs, and Feathertail and Dawnheart each brought the tools to the cats they helped. When Dawnheart reached Buckheart, he insisted Foxpaw be helped first. She carried less injury than the tom, but Dawnheart gave an understanding nod.

"Thank you, Buckheart." Frostcloud said quietly. She glanced to the surrounding assembly of Pinecats- the medicine cats forbade them to get in the way of their work. And so they were left gawking at the broken cats, flinching as they screamed when Feathertail or Dawnheart yanked the quills from their exhausted bodies.