Warrior Cats: The New Course (STILL UPDATING)

Chapter Twelve

Quietly, he pushed forward, making sure his steps were slow and cautious. The grass underneath his belly tickled him as went, and his mouth parted slightly, trying to pick up any other scent. It was still no use, for his sense of smell was blocked. How could Flameheart have disappeared so suddenly?

Frustrated, he pushed his way through the undergrowth and kept on walking forward, hoping he'd run into something, as long it was not a rogue. As he walked, impatience grew in his paws. How far does this path lead?

And more importantly, what was he going to run into? Was it something he shouldn't be seeing, or would it help him gain new information about the rogues?

He came to an abrupt stop when he heard something new. Somewhere to his right, the grass rustled, and he knew that some cat was close. He turned to the sound, ears pointed forward and jaws open as he tried to catch the scent of who it was. It could be Flameheart, but there was no telling through the thick patches of grass. Cautiously, he padded toward it as if the newcomer were a piece of prey.

"Icestar?" whispered the cat's voice.

Relief washed over his pelt as he recognized the voice of Flameheart. His friend's head poked through the weeds, the silhouette of his chin and ear-tips visible in the dim light.

"It's me!" replied Icestar quickly.

"I thought I'd lost you," his friend said breathlessly. "I turned around and you were gone! Well, that doesn't matter anymore. You won't believe what I found."

Icestar gulped. "Show me."

Flameheart nodded and sunk down into a hunter's crouch, snaking forward through the grass, this time much slower than before. He's being cautious! thought Icestar, sinking down to his belly as well. He followed close behind, his paw-steps light and his breath caught in his throat.

Whatever he was being cautious for, he knew it was dangerous. He wished to be back in camp right now, asleep under silverpelt's watchful gaze with the safe company of his Clanmates. Only Sharpfang knew that he and Flameheart had left the camp at night on this secret mission to find rogues. He wanted it to stay that way, and to keep his friends out of worry. But the thought of what he was about to find scared him, for it seemed that his worst fears were becoming true, and that this would have to involve the whole Clan.

Flameheart stopped walking and poked his head through a wall of grass. Icestar took a spot beside him and peeked through as well, ears forward and eyes alert. For a moment, all he could see was dark windswept grass, and a small empty clearing. He looked closer as the moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting light on the clearing down the slope, and he narrowed his eyes, catching a glint of fur shine.

"A rogue!" he whispered with alarm.

Flameheart shook his head. "Look closer."

Icestar's vision strained against the darkness, and he spotted a body right next to the first rogue, both sprawled in sleep. Then, on the other side of the clearing, another stirred within a small hole in the ground, and a fourth was curled up underneath a bush budding with fresh leaves.

"Four of them," he growled silently, trying to find more.

"Five," hissed Flameheart, pointing with his nose. Behind the small rock in the center of the clearing, he could see a shape of a cat stalking around its base, tail flicking and ears alert probably for intruders. Though his pelt was hard to see, he could recognize his large white paws and his light, almost playful, stance.

"That's—that's Jinx!" Icestar couldn't contain the shock, and his voice came out a little too loud.

Jinx's ears pricked, and the two toms slunk back into the cover of the undergrowth, hoping that they wouldn't be spotted. They listened to his light pawsteps slow to a halt.