Fan Fiction

Thrushpelt’s Trust—Chapter 17

“You three be careful, alright?” Tawnyspots instructed, pacing nervously as the clan prepared to move out. The morning air was harsh and windy, almost blocking out his brother’s worried voice.
“No worries, Tawny, we’ll show those rabbit eaters who’s boss!” White-eye replied with a grin, swiping at the air in front of her like a giddy apprentice. Dappletail nodded, her eyes glimmering with anticipation.
“Stormtail says they’re better at running than fighting. We couldn’t lose if we tried,” she added.
Tawnyspots tilted his head at her, frowning. “Don’t be afraid to run yourself, you know. You’re no use to Thunderclan dead.”
Thrushpelt nodded, but he could tell White-eye and Dappletail didn’t share his sentiments.
Across the clearing, Speckletail extracted herself from a pile of kits, and padded over to them. “Get a few bites in for me,” she muttered, tail twitching with agitation. “I’d come with you, but Smallear won’t watch the kits.”
Thrushpelt suspected it was more that Smallear didn’t want his mate near the battle, and Thrushpelt agreed. Fair or not, he was glad that Speckletail and Tawnyspots would be safe in camp.
“White-eye, Thrushpelt, Dappletail, eat these,” Featherwhisker instructed, dropping a bundle of herbs beside each of them as he made his rounds about camp.
Thrushpelt wrinkled his nose at the sharp taste, but swallowed anyway.
“Looks like the ‘paws don’t like them much either,” Tawnyspots commented with a pur of amusement, flicking his tail to where Snopaw was spinning in circles, tongue sticking out as she tried to free herself of the bitterness.
“Goosefeather has more new!” Pinestar yowled, making Thrushpelt freeze.
“More news?” he murmured reluctantly, shuffling along with his siblings to where the medicine den was.
“I examined the vole in the medicine clearing and found a shred of catmint on its other flank,” the medicine cat explained, nodding.
“Is he sure it didn’t come from the floor of his den?” Stonepelt murmured from beside him. “It’s not exactly spotless in there.”
Thrushpelt swallowed back a retort, glancing at Tawnyspots uneasily. He didn’t want to doubt Goosefeather, but Stonepelt made a very valid point. He wondered what Featherwhisker thought of it all.
“Yesterday you wanted more guidance from StarClan. Now you have it,” Goosefeather continued, with an icy look in Stonepelt’s direction. “Our warrior ancestors are telling us how we can fight WindClan’s aggression.”
“With a shred of catmint?” Moonflower murmured doubtfully.
“We must take the battle all the way into their camp!” Goosefeather announced, ignoring his sister’s comment.
“Their camp?” Stonepelt echoed, his ears flattening against his head. “Do you know how dangerous that will be?”
“StarClan’s advice, not mine,” Goosefeather replied haughtily, “The catmint tells me that the only way to defeat WindClan is to destroy it’s medicine supply.”
“What?” Thrushpelt gasped, his pelt bristling. Attacking them was one thing, but crippling their herb storage was completely different. How could StarClan want them to do that?
Sunfall stepped forwards, fixing Goosefeather with a sharp look. “But that would endanger kits and elders. Every Clan depends on its medicine supply, especially with leaf-bare approaching. If we destroy that, we are attacking innocents as well as warriors.” The deputy’s voice was soft, but his mew was laced with outrage.
Tawnyspots nodded, raising his scratchy voice to echo Sunfall’s words. “What kind of warriors would we be to pull such a fox-hearted trick?”
Goosefeather lifted his chin, meeting Sunfall’s gaze evenly. “We’d be alive.”
Eyes were on Pinestar again. The leader took a heavy step forward, looking away from Sunfall as he spoke. “I agree that it seems harsh, but StarClan has warned us that we face destruction unless weact against Windclan aggression before it’s too late. If we attack their medicine supply, they’ll be weakened for moons.”
“Exactly,” Tawnyspots growled, lashing his tail.
Sunfall tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. Pinestar ducked his head, looking almost apologetic. “ThunderClan will be safe.”
“But what if WindClan suffers an outbreak of whitecough?” Featherwhisker ventured, “How will Hawkheart treat the sick? The kits and elders would be defenseless.”
“Would you sacrifice our own kits and elders to save theirs?” Adderfang demanded, his tail lashing through the air as he glanced challengingly at the cats around him. Tawnyspots bristled as his friend’s eyes landed on him, scowling. “If we don’t attack now, ThunderClan will be destroyed. Is it not worth risking a few WindClan lives to save all of ours?”
Thrushpelt looked at the ground, feeling sick. He was no medicine cat, but this didn’t seem like the right thing to do. StarClan was tied to all clans, not just ThunderClan. Why would they want them to cripple WindClan’s herb supply? They wouldn’t have a chance to restock before leaf-bare.
“Adderfang is right,” Pinestar said with a sigh. “We must follow StarClan’s advice if we are to save ourselves.”
“So we’re attacking the camp?” Stonepelt asked grimly, his lips curling with disgust.
“Our target is the medicine den. No kit or elder is to be harmed. But their medicine supplies must be destroyed.”
“How does he know the kits and elders will be safe?” Thrushpelt hissed to Tawnyspots. “We’ll be fighting right in their camp!”
“Exactly, he has no idea,” Tawnyspots snarled back as the group broke up a bit. Sunfall was whispering to Pinestar in a hushed, harsh voice, and the leader was shaking his head. “I refuse to believe StarClan wants us to cripple another clan like this. If this leaf-bare is harsh, it could be the end of WindClan!”
“What would you know about StarClan?” Goosefeather challenged, making Thrushpelt jump. He hadn’t been intending to draw the medicine cat’s attention, just confer with Tawny. “Last time I checked, you’re not a medicine cat.”
“No, but Featherwhisker is, and he’s been awfully quite about this whole thing,” Tawnyspots shot back.
“Thunderclan warriors! To me!” Pinestar yowled, leaping to his paws. A frustrated looking Sunfall followed behind him, heading towards the exit.
“Be careful,” Tawnyspots murmured, giving Thrushpelt a quick lick over the head as the crowd churned towards the entrance. “And Adderfang!” he shouted, peering over the heads of his clanmates, “You better come back in one piece, because there’s an argument on ethics that we need to have.”

Thrushpelt ran beside White-eye, trying his best to ignore the bite of the wind on his fur. WindClan territory offered little protection from it, and it was blowing hard enough that his eyes were stinging.
Silelently, they crept across the moor, soundless for the sound of Snowpaw’s chattering teeth. He didn’t envy the apprentice, who hadn’t quite been able to jump one of the streams in RiverClan territory.
Pinestar halted as clusters of boulders started to pop up along the smooth terrain, pricking his ears towards a soft dip in the earth. He gestured towards the ‘paws, Featherwhisker, and Swiftbreeze. “You see that rock over there?” he murmured softly, gesturing towards a large rock, “That’s where you’ll wait. Do you understand?”
When both nodded, he added, “Featherwhisker and Swiftbreeze will wait with you. I’ll send a runner if we get into trouble. Follow their orders exactly and without question.”
“See you later, love,” Adderfang murmured to his mate as Pinestar flicked his tail towards the camp. Swiftbreeze blinked back, before heading after Featherwhisker and the ‘paws.
Thrushpelt sucked in a deap breath as he broke into a run, falling in step with White-eye once again. There would be no battle cry this time, just tense silence as they crested the edge of the slope leading into camp. It dropped steeply away, revealing a wall of thick brambles.
Pinestar lead them through the small gap near the entrance, Sunfall at his shoulder. Thrushpelt had only a moment to take in the wide clearing and startled faces before the first yowl shattered the air, and the battle began.

Thrushpelt ducked as a broad shouldered tom lept for him, stumbling backwards into White-eye. “Get out of my camp, you foxhearts!” the cat, Stagleap, he realized.
White-eye snorted, dancing out of the way of his claws. He was far bulkier than either of them, and certainly stronger than most Windclan cats, but slower too. “No can do, rabbit-breath,” she taunted, landing a glancing blow on his side before darting backwards again.
Thrushpelt lunged for him, barreling into his legs while White-eye had him distracted. Stagleap lost his balance, but rolled with his momentum. He kicked up at Thrushpelt, his hind legs catching him hard in the jaw.
Thrushpelt blinked, trying to clear his head as his vision spun. He could feel the soft tickle of blood creaping down his neck, the sting coming a second later.
“You’ll pay for that!” White-eye snarled, rushing to pin the Windclan cat. Unfortunately, the tom was too large for her to hold down, and he tossed her off with ease, scrambling to his feet. “And that too!” White-eye added, rolling to dodge his heavy paws.
“Leave her alone!” Thrushpelt yowled as Stagleap clawed at her side, opening up a row of neat scratch wounds. The tom spun to face him, then threw his shoulder hard against Thrushpelt’s chest, sending him tumbling.
“You both talk too much,” Stagleap growled into his ear, swiping at his face before he could duck away. He squirmed, struggling to remember his training as blood dripped into his eyes, clouding his sight.
Where was White-eye? Thrushpelt snapped at Stagleap’s legs, trying to get him to step back so that he could recover. But the tom just shifted his weight, pressing down hard on Thrushpelt’s neck.
“That’s better,” Stagleap hissed as Thrushpelt gasped for breath, digging his claws in a bit as he leaned closer. “Here’s how it’s going to work, squirrel brain. When I let you up, you’re going to run back to your forest while you still can, got it?”
Thrushpelt tilted his head up, wincing at the fury in Stagleap’s eyes. He didn’t blame Stagleap for his anger, he’d be mad too if it was his camp being invaded.
“Get off of him!” Adderfang yowled from beside him, and suddenly Stagleap’s weight was gone. Thrushpelt sucked in a sharp breath and staggered shakily to his feet, the world spinning before him.
Adderfang seemed to be doing much better than Thrushpelt had against Stagleap. Thrushpelt watched with bewilderment as he sent the Windclan tom tumbling, shaking his head. If only he’d inherited Windflight’s stockier build.
He glanced around, trying to find White-eye in the fray but failing. Hopefully, wherever she was, she was taking care of herself. Somewhere, he heard Dappletail shreik in pain.
“Don’t just stand there, mousebrain, do something useful!” Stonepelt hissed as he twisted away from a pale Windclan cat’s snapping jaws, shooting Thrushpelt a baleful look.
Braising himself for the discomfort to come, Thrushpelt darted over to help his clanmate.
The clamor of screams and yowls was discombobulating, and he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest from the fear. Each one could be a clanmate lost, someone he could have helped. As he tore the pale gray she-cat away from Stonepelt, he couldn’t help but think again that this didn’t seem like something Starclan would look favorably upon.