Swiftpaw's Chance: Chapter 15
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Swiftscar spends the next two days alternating between learning all the herbs Cinderpelt can stuff into his head and being around Cloudtail and Brightheart as much as possible. Sometimes they share meals, and sometimes he helps them train Willowpelt’s kits in fighting moves—no one says it, but they all know the kits might need them soon.
Firestar and Tallstar agree to fight BloodClan. What remains of RiverClan and ShadowClan after BloodClan recruited their warriors agree, as well. The third day looms, and the forest is thick with anticipation as preparations are made.
“Swiftscar, this is a huge battle. There won’t be cats to carry the wounded back to camp. You and I will have to be close if we want to heal our Clanmates,” Cinderpelt says. “We’ll bring all the herbs we can carry to the edge of the Gathering place and watch the battle from there. Any wounded cats that can’t get out on their own—which will probably be all of them—we go down and carry out.”
Swiftscar is nodding along as he bundles any herbs they might need into leaves to carry away. They’re meant to meet BloodClan at sunhigh, and he can’t stop looking at the sky every spare second he has, watching the sun creep higher.
With all their herbs arranged and ready to be transported, Swiftscar and Cinderpelt pick up the bundles and head for Fourtrees. Before they can even reach the entrance, though, Ravenpaw runs in, accompanied by a plump black and white cat Swiftscar doesn’t know.
“Firestar!” Ravenpaw cries. The ginger leader looks up from where he’s talking to Whitestorm and some of the senior warriors.
“Ravenpaw? What are you doing here?”
“We met Onewhisker on the WindClan border this morning, and he told us about BloodClan,” Ravenpaw pants. “Barley used to be one of their members.”
A low gasp ripples through the Clan, every cat’s look of surprise turning to fear and disgust. Barley flattens his ears but doesn’t back down.
“I left BloodClan of my own accord. I’m not like them, and haven’t been for seasons,” he says with just a bit of bite to the words. “I came to warn you about them.”
“They warned us themselves well enough,” Mousefur snaps.
“There’s more to them than just their fighting skills,” Barley says. “Scourge has a weakness the Clan cats do not: He doesn’t believe in StarClan.”
Firestar shakes his head slowly. “StarClan won’t help us win the battle. Scourge and his Clan are strong fighters, and that strength outweighs any weakness they might have from not following StarClan.”
“You say that now, but after the battle, you’ll understand,” Barley says. “At any rate, Ravenpaw and I came to join the fight, not just warn you about it.”
Firestar gives Ravenpaw a concerned look, and the tom puffs out his chest. “I know how to fight when I need to. And I want to help. I’m not completely useless.” His purple eyes gleam with the promise of a battle.
After a moment, Firestar dips his head. “Very well. I can’t exactly refuse offers of help today. But you know, Barley, that if you left BloodClan they’ll likely try to hurt you the most for defecting. You’ll be in more danger than most of us.”
“And I’ll know how they fight,” Barley says. “I can handle it.”
Firestar nods. “Alright then. We have a battle to win. Speckletail, I’m leaving you here in charge of the camp. If everything goes wrong, if you hear BloodClan coming, you try to get all the elders and kits to Barley’s barn.”
“I’ll stay too, if that’s all right,” Goldenflower says. “Speckletail and Willowpelt will need help carrying the kits at the very least.”
“That’s fine. Everyone else, let’s go.”
ThunderClan moves to leave. Swiftscar and Cinderpelt follow the warriors with their herbs all the way to the top of the Fourtrees hollow, where Cinderpelt immediately sets to creating a makeshift den beneath a bush. Cloudtail and Brightheart hesitate at the top of the slope, and Swiftscar goes to them.
“Please take care of each other,” he whispers.
“I won’t leave his side,” Brightheart promises fiercely.
Cloudtail presses the crown of his head into Swiftscar’s cheek. “Take care of yourself , huh? You’re in danger today too.”
Swiftscar nods and they reluctantly pull away. Watching them pad toward the battlefield, it hits him all over again: Cats are going to die today. He might never see them alive again.
“Wait!” he cries, stumbling forward, and they turn to meet him again. Without really meaning to, they all duck their heads, pressing together, a three-pointed star.
“I love you,” Swiftscar whispers. “ Both of you.”
“I love you too,” Brightheart murmurs.
There’s a short pause and Swiftscar’s heart drops to his paws.
“Well now it just sounds like I’m copying you if I say it,” Cloudtail says, and they all laugh a little, despite everything. “But I love you both too. Really.”
This time, when they pull away, Swiftscar lets them go. He waits until both their tails have disappeared over the side of the hill to go back to Cinderpelt.
“They’re strong warriors,” she tells him, before he can even open his mouth. “And they’ve got each other, and you.”
She doesn’t say they’ll be fine , and Swiftscar doesn’t know if he would prefer the lie or not. Finally he just sits down and helps Cinderpelt move branches of the bush to create a small, sheltered area, big enough for two or three cats. It will have to be enough.
The first battle cry rises behind them, terrifyingly close, and Swiftscar hates that he flinches. Cinderpelt drapes her tail across his shoulders.
“We have to watch,” she says. “If any cat gets injured, we’ll go in together. I can probably carry most of the cats down there, but we’ll be vulnerable, so...you’ll need to guard me.”
“Right,” Swiftscar says. “Are we watching out for every Clan, or-“
Cinderpelt cuts him off, flicking her tail across the hollow. Near WindClan’s territory an older brown tom with a short tail is crouched. By ShadowClan territory, Runningnose paces beneath a pine tree. In RiverClan, a lighter brown tom is watching the battle intently. It doesn’t escape Swiftscar’s notice that Cinderpelt is the only one with an apprentice, but he decides that now is about the worst time to comment on it.
“Obviously any cat in danger is our responsibility, but we can afford to prioritize ThunderClan a little bit,” Cinderpelt explains.
Swiftscar nods absently as he focuses his attention on the battle. In the writhing mass of cats it’s difficult to tell who is who; BloodClan are identifiable by the collars around their necks, but the rest of the Clans blur together.
Cinderpelt gasps softly, and Swiftscar’s eyes scan the battleground quickly, searching for what she sees. Finally he spots it—Sandstorm, snarling at a massive BloodClan tom, with blood pouring from a deep slash on her chest. The BloodClan rogue lashes out again, and Swiftscar doesn’t see the blow connect, just her head snapping sideways, red painting her cheek. Whitestorm lunges in front of her, blocking another vicious blow. Behind him, Sandstorm stumbles sideways, and Swiftscar jumps to his feet.
“She won’t last much longer, bleeding like that,” Cinderpelt says, already on her paws and hurrying down the slope.
Swiftscar is right on her heels. He half-slides down the hill to reach the battle ahead of them, and thanks StarClan that Sandstorm was already on the fringes of it. She’s still mostly protected by Whitestorm, but another BloodClanner appears in Swiftscar’s peripheral vision. He lunges sideways, paws sliding in the earth, already on his hind legs to meet the attacker. His claws connect with the cat’s muzzle, throwing her head to the side.
The BloodClan cat snarls at him, the namesake of her Clan dripping down her face. Swiftscar spares a glance over his shoulder—Cinderpelt is supporting Sandstorm and starting to hobble away. Swiftscar leaps backward as the she-cat lunges for him, following the two of them. Cinderpelt, thank StarClan, moves quickly, and they’re away from the battle before Swiftscar can get more than a scratch on his shoulder. He watches the she-cat follow their path up the hill and abruptly decide two medicine cats and a wounded warrior aren’t worth it, spinning around to run back to the real battle.
Swiftscar watches her go, then spins to join in helping Sandstorm up the hill.
“It’s not that bad,” Sandstorm gasps, “He didn’t get my belly.”
“Hate to break it to you, Sandstorm, but even I know you still have important organs in your chest,” Swiftscar tells her.
Sandstorm shakes her head. “No, it’s not that-“
“Shh,” Cinderpelt hisses. “You shouldn’t be talking.”
They reach the makeshift den and gently lay Sandstorm down. She’s still shaking her head at them.
“I meant, ” she says, drawing in a hiss as Cinderpelt presses marigold to her chest. “That I...I think I’m carrying kits.”
Swiftscar freezes, watches Cinderpelt fumble in her work for a second before continuing. “How would you know? You aren’t showing yet.”
Sandstorm shrugs as best as she’s able. “I just...feel it.”
Cinderpelt nods once, businesslike. “Okay then. Swiftscar, can you keep an eye on the battle?”
“Yes,” Swiftscar says quickly, already spinning back toward the top of the hill.
It’s difficult to tell, but it almost seems like the Clans are winning. Off to the side, Runningnose is struggling to support what looks like a ShadowClan warrior. Swiftscar hesitates, about to run to help him, when a bloodcurdling screech splits the air, louder than anything else in the forest. His head snaps instantly back to the source of the sound, finding it immediately: Whitestorm is lying on the ground in a deadly pool of red, the huge tom he was fighting stands triumphant over him.
Swiftscar doesn’t even think, just runs.
Before he even gets halfway down the slope, a flurry of small bodies breaks free of the crowd in one single, massive roar. Every ThunderClan apprentice leaps over Whitestorm, tackling the BloodClanner to the ground. Swiftscar keeps running to Whitestorm’s side, reaching him at the same moment Firestar does.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Whitestorm breathes shakily. “It’s alright, Swiftscar. Focus on someone you can save.”
Swiftscar backs up a step, meeting Firestar’s eyes. The ginger leader’s eyes are full of pain, but he nods, so Swiftscar reluctantly retreats to safer ground, feeling like a coward and a failure.
Cinderpelt is waiting at the top of the hill, and he knows from her eyes that he doesn’t need to explain. She presses her nose against him, the only comfort she can give right now, and he dips his head.
By the time he manages to catch a full breath and turn back to the fighting, Firestar is already gone, swallowed up by the battle. The pulsing mass of apprentices isn’t gone yet, though, and as he watches they slowly disperse, leaving behind a huge black and white shape smeared in blood. Revenge. The thought tastes bitter.
No other ThunderClan cats get themselves into imminent danger over the next agonizing minute that Cinderpelt and Swiftscar spend crouched, watching. Finally, a cat begins to yowl, and Swiftscar is on his feet before he even registers what’s happening. Cinderpelt puts out a paw to block him. Then he hears what the voices are saying.
“Scourge is dead! Scourge is dead!”
“BloodClan, retreat !”
In the hollow, collared cats begin to stumble free of the Clan’s claws, still screeching about their leader. Swiftscar scans the earth until he sees a bolt of flame; Firestar. ThunderClan’s leader is standing over a tiny black body. Swiftscar’s heard enough from the others to know it’s BloodClan’s ruthless leader.
“We won,” Cinderpelt breathes beside him. “Swiftscar, it’s over. We won.”
It’s over. The battle’s done.
He has to find Cloudtail and Brightheart.
It takes all of his self control to stay where he is, watching the cats below instead of charging into the fray immediately. For one horrible second, he can’t find Cloudtail’s bright white pelt among the crowd.
“There,” Cinderpelt says gently, pointing towards two achingly familiar figures, and Swiftscar is gone.
He runs down the hill, his eyes trained on Cloudtail and Brightheart. Just as he reaches the bottom, Brightheart looks up, her eye widening when she sees him. Both of them start running, and then, somehow, they’re crashing together, a tangle of limbs and noses.
“You’re both okay?” Swiftscar asks from where he’s pressed his face into Cloudtail’s shoulder.
Brightheart licks at his ear. “Bit banged up, but we’ll be okay. Others are worse off.”
“Swiftscar!” Cinderpelt calls from behind him, and he tears himself away.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I have to-“
“Go,” Cloudtail says with a gentle nudge. “Do your job.”
He backs away from them and finally has to force himself to turn around and run to Cinderpelt. Her jaws are full of herbs carried down from above, and she’s crouched over Mousefur, who has an ugly gash on her flank and is holding one of her back paws off the ground.
“Broken?” he asks, nodding to it.
Mousefur shakes her head. “Just tore a claw loose and ripped up the pad. I’m fine .”
“I think we’re meant to be the judges of that,” Cinderpelt says. “Swiftscar, I’ve got this covered here if you’ll take a look at some others?”
Swiftscar nods, but before he can fully turn away, her tail at his shoulder stops him.
“I was worried for a moment that you wouldn’t leave them,” she says quietly, with a little nod to Cloudtail and Brightheart. “But you’re doing well.”
“I’m trying,” Swiftscar tells her, and slips into the crowd to look for the most injured warriors.
He quickly finds Fernpaw and Ashpaw huddled together, with a worrying amount of red smearing their fur.
“Fernpaw, Ashpaw,” he says, crossing the rest of the distance between them in two neat bounds. “You two okay?”
Shakily, Ferncloud lifts one foreleg, revealing a long, bloody gash down the inside of it. Before Swiftscar can even say anything, she turns around, baring the back of her neck, where a large bite is leaking blood. It looks like a cat tried to pick her up by the scruff and she tore away.
“Come with me,” he tells her. “Ashpaw, what about you?”
“Fine,” Ashpaw says gruffly, turning to show off a small cut on his shoulder. “Just this one. It’s not my blood.”
Swiftscar is not as reassured by that as he should be, eyeing the apprentices bloody forelegs and chest, the red smeared on his muzzle. He can’t linger over it for long, though, turning to tuck his half-tail around Fernpaw as he leads her back to Cinderpelt.
“Ashpaw killed Bone,” Fernpaw says quietly. “And I know he killed Whitestorm, and he was trying to kill us , but...Ashpaw scared me. He’s not the same, since Mom died. I...” she ducked her head, which had the unfortunate side effect of giving Swiftscar full view of her mauled neck. “I’m just worried about him, is all.”
Swiftscar can only nod grimly as they reach Cinderpelt’s side. No one talks anymore as he busies himself with treating her wounds, and by then Ashpaw’s shown up with Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw. All relatively unhurt, thank StarClan. Swiftscar keeps treating the worst-hurt cats; Dustpelt suffered dozens of minor injuries, Graystripe had a vicious bite on his shoulder.
Finally, Cloudtail and Brightheart are in front of him again. He touches his nose to each of them and, after a fond-looking nod from Cinderpelt, he looks them over more thoroughly than any other cat. He’s biased, but most everyone else is taken care of, so he’s allowed to be.
Cloudtail drags his tail gently across Swiftscar’s back as he makes his inspection. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “We’re both fine.”
Swiftscar lifts his head, eyeing a bloody scratch across Cloudtail’s muzzle. “You’re hurt, though.”
Cloudtail ducks his head, touches a paw to the scratches. It comes away red. “You’re gonna fix me up though, Swiftscar.” He smiles, softly, and Swiftscar nods.
It’s quick work to get a little marigold and cobweb for that scratch, and then Swiftscar spot a patch of red on Cloudtail’s one shoulder. He gives it a significant look and gently pulls the fur away until the scratch is visible.
“Okay, so my shoulder got nicked,” Cloudtail says. “I’m fine .”
“It could’ve been so much worse,” Swiftscar says, focusing far more on fixing up the scratch than is strictly necessary. “Whitestorm died , Cloudtail. And I knew it was him, the whole time, I knew , but it still looked-“
He bites down on the end of the sentence, closing his eyes. A white tom’s body in a pool of too much blood is waiting behind his eyelids. He opens his eyes again, meets Cloudtail’s gaze.
“I worry,” he whispers. “It could’ve been you. So just, just let me do this, okay?”
Cloudtail presses the top of his head into Swiftscar’s cheek. “I know. I saw you charge down into the battle to get Sandstorm, and I was so scared something would happen—I wanted to get to you, I swear, but there were too many-“
“I know,” Swiftscar says softly, and he pulls away to check Brightheart.
“Just a scratch on my side,” Brightheart says, turning a bit. It’s her blind side, and as Swiftscar gets ready to take care of it Cloudtail rumbles with a growl.
“I was supposed to stop that,” he mutters.
Brightheart licks his cheek. “You can’t be everywhere at once. It’s not deep, I’ll live— ow, ” she lifted one paw in protest as the marigold went on her wound.
“You’re okay now,” Swiftscar says quietly.
Brightheart presses against him. “Yeah, I am. You?” Her eye goes wide and worried as she looks him over.
He nods quickly. “Hardly even fought anyone.”
The three of them only have time to stand together, close, before Firestar’s voice cuts through the air, calling ThunderClan to him. Slowly, the injured warriors pull together. Swiftscar goes to Cinderpelt’s side.
“I’m alright. We pretty much cleaned out our stores, so there isn’t much to carry back. Go back to your...” She searches for a word a moment and settles for just flicking her tail in Cloudtail and Brightheart’s direction.
Swiftscar nearly protests, but a glance over his shoulder at them has all the words dying in his throat. “Yeah, okay.”
“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for, I don't know, neglecting your duty?” Cloudtail asks, looking past him to Cinderpelt.
Swiftscar shrugs. “Cinderpelt’s not mad at me yet. I think she thinks we’re...sweet.”
“Well, we are, aren’t we?” Brightheart asks. “We’re adorable .” She presses up against Cloudtail, leans to lick at Swiftscar’s face.
Cloudtail leans his head against hers, and Swiftscar joins him on her other side. “Sure we are. Three adorable cats that are going to go home . Without the threat of murder, for once, please?”
Swiftscar nods. “Yeah. Good plan. Solid.”
They lean together. ThunderClan starts the walk back home.