how the mighty fall ❧ // warrior cats

INTERLUDE V

     He paces the camp in a fervor. Where are they? Where are they? He shouldn't have run, he should have stayed, but his paws are still shaking from the encounter, his heart still running the gamut again and again and again. He has told Greystar what happened of course, and she sped into the forest without a word to anyone, even when the camp guard called out to her, but she hasn't returned, either.

     Horror seizes him, pulling him to a halt as if closing jaws of iron around his tail. What if Torch caught them? What if he caught all of them? The world tunnels into a dangerous pinprick of light, a narrow field of vision, and Coal sways, barely remaining upright. There's a murmuring to his right, probably someone asking if he's all right, but as long as it isn't Clay fretting, he's okay.

     Clay. Clay, his only brother, the only thing keeping him from sprinting back into the pines to make up for running away like a snake-bellied coward. Where is he? A spike of panic leads Coal to believe his brother has left the camp, but no, there he is, ruddy tabby pelt buried among a mound of young warriors and apprentices who have lost their homes and their families. His back rises and falls with every breath, the clearest assurance that he is indeed still alive, and Coal exhales the second-shakiest breath of the night.

     The first shakiest came when Stonetail drove him into the ground. As he rolled onto his back, he had seen the startling yellow mask she wore so well, and terror filled his bones. He had been sure she had reached her breaking point, that she had decided to kill him then and there. But instead she had saved him and stood between him and Torch as he turned tail and fled, no steadier than a robin with its pinions plucked out. All that, all that for him, and he had fled. He gasps for air, lungs constricting under the weight of guilt. Survivor's guilt. He recognizes it unequivocally, and how could he not? When his parents died protecting him and Clay, he couldn't breathe right for weeks. It hadn't been right for them to die, for him to survive. It hadn't been fair.

     And now it's happening again, except suddenly Streamheart is pushing through the camp entrance, then Stonetail, then Greystar at the back, herding them in without a word. The fur along the leader's spine stands straight up, as if she's had as much of a fright as Coal has, but the two younger warriors look much different. Streamheart appears to be dragging herself across the ground step by step, not wounded, but stripped of energy. At her side, Stonetail's head is low, her ears back, and not an inch of her fur is smooth and well-groomed. By the cloud-dappled moonlight, the curl of her lip reveals fangs that have certainly not seen battle. There is no blood to be found.

     And neither are the yellow eyes.

     Coal suddenly finds that there's air aplenty, and he sinks to the ground with a faint, choked mewl. He did not leave them for death. They are alive. And as if for the first time, he's seeing Stonetail without that haunting flash of gold. Her bloodthirsty expression is still frightening in its own right, but it's so strange to look on without feeling like she and Torch are trading places by some mystical force.

     The urge to thank her takes command of his limbs, but he fights it down. What if the eyes come back? What if she does want him dead? No, she can't. Not at all. Not if she went to those lengths to let him run, let him escape. Unless she was doing it for her own revenge? He jams his muzzle into the fur of his tail and squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't know, he can't be sure. Maybe gratitude isn't safe, maybe it is. But she's safe and Streamheart's safe and Greystar is safe. Coal feels like he can finally rest, if only a little, and remains in his spot under the edge of the pine boughs without regard for the chilly breeze.

     Hopefully, the cool wind will harden his heart enough to let him fulfill the promise he finds himself making. If the ShadeClan she-cats cannot kill Torch, he will. For them. For all they've done for him and for Clay. He will do it, terrified to his core or not. Torch will have to die.

     Maybe he's at peace with that. Maybe.