Spottedpaw stumbled as cats swarmed through the cave, knocking her around. She felt her insides churn at the familiar feeling of the cave floor that she called her home. No, this isn't right, she thought as she struggled to keep her panic at bay. I got out, I was safe. Why am I back here?! Pelts blurred together as cats writhed around her, fighting one another savagely.
In a corner, she saw Nightpaw cowering under the malicious glares of Pearlpaw and Dustpaw. Spottedpaw tried calling out to her friend, but no words came out of her mouth. Panic continued to bubble up inside of her, threatening to spill over. Despite all her senses telling her to escape, Spottedpaw stayed rooted to her spot and watched the cats around her tumble with claws flying. Screeches and yowls echoed off the walls of the caves, overwhelming her senses.
Through the disarray—and her own panic, Spottedpaw picked out a few more cats she recognized. Near the Smoothstone, Foxleap and Greyheart faced off. Her father looked as unforgiving as ever, while her mother's eyes were bright with fury. Behind her was Riverpaw, pressing himself against the large stone and watching their argument with wide eyes. Not far off, Coldstep was lashing out at her Snowface and Frostheart. Upon closer inspection, Spottedpaw saw that the cloudy-furred tom had the same wound she left him with when she escaped.
When she cast her gaze further into the swarming mass of cats, she spotted the familiar black-and-white fur of Mudwing. He was one of the few who remained still in the cave, standing rigid as his campmates fought all around him. Spottedpaw took a few pawsteps forward and saw his face—his eyes were wide with dismay, his mouth agape in a silent scream. When Spottedpaw followed his gaze, she felt her heart drop to her stomach.
In the middle of the cave, a familiar creamy-furred tom slumped in a puddle of blood. The shrieking of cats faded out until only a deafening silence existed; it was the kind of silence so heavy that you can only hear the ringing of your ears. The writhing and slashing of the cats around her slowed until they were frozen mid-attack. Beneath her, Spottedpaw's legs felt weak, and the ground swayed. She took a few pathetic steps forward, only to freeze again when she heard an all-too-familiar laugh.
"His death is on you, Spottedpaw," Deadeye sneered mockingly, though he was nowhere to be seen. Spottedpaw dared a few glances around, thinking she saw a flash of his black fur in the frozen crowd around her. "You knew the consequences of your actions, and yet you insisted on spewing nonsense about some dead cats. And now, your poor mentor is resting in a pool of his own blood, the only cat that cared for you . . . ." The sound of a pebble skipping across the floor came from behind Spottedpaw, and she whipped around only to see the still-frozen Gorge cats. She felt her heartbeat picked up as her panic rose even more, her breath coming out in ragged, desperate gasps.
"Y-You're wrong," she responded in between gasps. "You caused this—you didn't have to kill him." Her heart twisted as she spoke, and deep down, she felt as though it truly were her fault. When Spottedpaw blinked, the frozen cats around her vanished. She glanced behind her and saw that, much to her dismay, Hawkscar still laid limply on the stony floor.
Another, even more distinct laugh sounded around the cave. The laughter dripped with venomous, rife with malicious intent. Spottedpaw took a shaky breath and turned around, blinking in surprise when she saw a strange, dark-furred tom. His amber eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the cave.
"It seems you've started yourself along a path that only ends in misery," he sneered. His voice jerked forward a memory of one of her first visions—he was the tom that she saw arguing with Shadestar, and the one that killed Ivorystar. Crowstar.
"What do you know?" Spottedpaw snapped back, suddenly finding her courage. "You're a murderer, you're the reason the forest is the way it is today. Why should I believe a word you say?" Crowstar stepped towards Hawkscar's lifeless body, flipping him over so that Spottedpaw could see the fearful expression frozen onto his face.
"I know that you just lost your precious mentor," Crowstar gave a purr of amusement, "And, knowing Deadeye, the ones you hold close are likely next. This path will only lead to death, and you're the one who chose it." Spottedpaw opened her mouth to object, but froze when the smoky-furred tom stalked towards her.
"What are you—" Her voice caught in her throat when the dead leader raised an unsheathed paw to her face, his sharp claws resting threateningly against her skin.
"You asked for this."
Spottedpaw jolted awake with a gasp, her claws grasping desperately at the mossy nest beneath her. The apprentice took a few deep breaths and glanced around the BlazeClan medicine den, relieved to see that she was alone aside from Blueheart soaking balls of moss in the pool. The bluish-grey medicine cat showed no sign of hearing Spottedpaw's thrashing; when she rose to her paws and slowly put her nest back together, he merely flicked an ear.
Hesitantly, Spottedpaw moved to exit the den. A few sunrises had passed since she first arrived, and her shoulder was already healing well enough for her to be active again. She recalled Skyfeather demanding that Spottedpaw remain in the medicine den for further monitoring of the wound. I can't tell if she wants me to be careful, or if she just distrusts me that much, she thought to herself. When she emerged into the main camp, she looked around in awe.
A massive rocky wall curved around the outskirts of the camp, as though sheltering it from harsh weather or invaders. Several rocky formations rested along the sides of the camp; brambles and leaves woven near them hinted that they must be the other dens. Along the tallest side of the camp wall was a ledge that led up the wall until it reached a thicker, sturdier ledge in front of a tiny, cave-like formation. On top of this ledge, Heatherstar stood proudly as she spoke to the gathered cats below her. The black-furred leader immediately noticed Spottedpaw's presence.
"You're just in time for my next announcement, Spottedpaw," the leader called down, her blue eyes warm and welcoming. She turned back to the BlazeClan cats, most of whom had turned to inspect Spottedpaw curiously. "As you all know, we've been sheltering this apprentice who fled to us from the Gorge. I've given it a few sunrises of thought and, with much advice from Yellowheart and Blueheart, I have decided to continue sheltering this apprentice here in BlazeClan." Several skeptical murmurs broke out in the crowd immediately, making Spottedpaw's fur heat up self-consciously.
"What if it's a trick by Deadeye?" some cat called out. When cats murmured their agreement, Spottedpaw grew nervous. She wondered if there was any way she could prove that it wasn't some kind of twisted trick.
"I'm willing to take that risk," Heatherstar responded confidently, her blue eyes flashing in the sunlight. "I'd sooner die than turn away a fellow victim of Deadeye's reign of terror. If it means feeding into one of his tricks, then so be it." Though a few cats still exchanged skeptical glances, most began to nod sympathetically. "Since this apprentice will be staying with us, she needs a mentor. Swallowclaw, since you knew both Spottedpaw and her previous mentor, you will be tasked with training her and watching over her." Once more, disagreement erupted from the cats below her.
"He's biased!" Spottedpaw recognized Rockstorm in the crowd. Bouncepool and a light tabby she-cat nodded in agreement, their eyes defiant. "You need to choose someone who isn't likely to lie in her favor."
"I trust her, Rockstorm," a ginger-and-white she-cat spoke up, her tail twitching. "She was at the border patrol when the Gorge first threatened us—and she did her best to hang back and not cause any issues."
"It's true!" Firthistle spoke up, his fluffy tail sweeping the dust beneath him. "And in the battle when Heatherstorm died, she looked just as horrified and disgusted as we all felt. She's not like the rest of them." Spottedpaw shuffled her paws anxiously as discourse broke out in the crowd in the clearing. I can't even defend myself, she thought miserably. I don't blame them, but this feels so horrible. Yellowheart stepped out from behind the leader and murmured a few words in her ear; she gave him a nod and lashed her tail.
"That's enough!" Heatherstar snapped over the discord. "If it makes everyone happy, Rockstorm can help Swallowclaw oversee the apprentice and her training. Does this satisfy you all?" When a few accepting mutters broke out, Heatherstar gave a confirming nod and swished her tail gracefully. The black she-cat retreated into her den without a word, while Yellowheart remained atop the ledge. Spottedpaw couldn't help but let out a breath of relief at the ultimate decision, realizing that they very well could have turned her away.
Spottedpaw avoided the curious gazes of the BlazeClan cats as they returned to their duties. After a quick glance around the unfamiliar camp, she decided to sit down a short ways away from the medicine den. She was painfully aware of the countless gazes burning into her pelt; while she couldn't blame them for being interested, she wished that they would at least come talk to her instead.
A scuffling sound caught her attention, but when she looked around, she saw nobody nearby. Spottedpaw narrowed her eyes and slouched until she was laying down on the dusty floor of the camp; the warmth of the sandy earth beneath her felt soothing against her forelegs and side. After a few heartbeats, she heard the noise again.
"You're being so loud!" a squeaky voice hissed from behind her. "She's gonna catch us and eat us!" Spottedpaw didn't have to turn around to know that a few kits must have stalked up behind her. Eat them? she thought, feeling oddly amused. Are those the nursery stories they're told here?
"Shut up, Bramblekit. You telling me I'm loud is even louder!" The apprentice had to hold back a purr of laughter at the two kits. Spottedpaw snuck a glance at them and saw that a dark brown kit was stalking her tail, her fur standing out awkwardly against the land around them. She started letting the tip of her tail bounce lazily in the sun and, when the little kit pounced, she whisked her tail away.
The two kits gave startled squeals and ran away, their scrambling paws throwing up dust and sand behind them. Spottedpaw let out a few soft chuckles as she watched the kits scamper off. As they vanished into what could only be the nursery, Spottedpaw began to feel as though she were weighed down by an invisible force. In only a matter of days, her life had been thrown askew, and now she sat in a Clan full of cats she didn't know; cats that, like those kits, likely see her as a dangerous villain. I'm going to have to work hard to prove myself to them, she told herself, though she struggled to find much determination within herself.
Approaching footsteps caught her attention once more. Spottedpaw blinked and recognized Firthistle approaching her, his expression soft, yet hesitant. A plump mouse dangled from his jaws, swinging as he padded up.
"Hey," the pale tom murmured awkwardly, setting the prey down at their paws delicately. "I know that a lot of cats are giving you a hard time, but I promise, we don't all think that way. I know that you're not like Deadeye, or those other cats."
"Er . . . thank you," Spottedpaw responded hesitantly, unsure of what to say. She wanted to defend the friends that she had; she wanted to defend Hawkscar. As much as she wanted to say it, she knew that the Clan cats' feelings were beyond justified. Who knows how long Deadeye has terrorized them—Crowstar, too, she reminded herself sadly. Firthistle nudged the mouse toward her and gave her an awkward nod before padding away.
Spottedpaw slowly began to eat the mouse, her mouth watering when she tasted just how fresh it was. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of cream fur. Her heart jumped to her throat as she snapped her head to look. Deep inside, she found herself hoping that it was Hawkscar—wishing that he had somehow escaped, and had come to join her.
The cat turned around and her heart fell when she realized that it was only Yellowheart. Spottedpaw silently cursed herself for being so silly. Hawkscar was dead—nothing she could say or do would change that, so why did her mind insist on playing these awful tricks on her?
"You're seeing him in the cats here, aren't you?" Swallowclaw mewed, his deep voice thick with sympathy. Spottedpaw jumped at his arrival and shot him a sheepish glance. "Hawkscar was an amazing cat, but more importantly, he understood you. Don't blame yourself for what happened, Spottedpaw. He wanted you safe above everything."
Spottedpaw drew patterns in the earth in front of her with her claws, letting out a soft sigh. "I've been having nightmares," she admitted after a few moments, immediately feeling embarrassed. "I- I mean, I've always had bad dreams, but ever since I woke up here, I've had nightmares about . . . it." She finished her sentence awkwardly, unsure of how to form the correct words.
"You've been through something that not many cats have to witness firsthand," Swallowclaw responded without missing a beat, his voice reassuring. "I have no doubt that whatever happened, however it happened, was traumatic beyond description. This kind of reaction is normal, Spottedpaw."
I made this happen, though, Spottedpaw told herself bitterly, though she said nothing aloud. She continued scraping at the ground in front of her, wishing that she could stop feeling this way. She knew that if she had just ignored her dreams, and kept them to herself, she wouldn't be in this position. Hawkscar would still be alive. I could still talk to Nightpaw, and bicker with Dustpaw. As the list carried on inside her head, Spottedpaw felt her remorse grow deeper.
"It's okay to feel this way," the dark tabby tom murmured again. His amber eyes were soft as he gazed at the apprentice. "I don't know all of the details, and you don't have to tell me them, but none of this is your fault. Deadeye is a tyrannical, evil cat—this was bound to happen someday, if not to you, then to whoever else upset him that day."
"I guess so," Spottedpaw mumbled slowly. She remembered how his kits had caught greencough, and how Deadeye had seemed visibly upset ever since then. Even still, it was her dreams that gave him the final shove. Spottedpaw let her gaze wander back to Yellowheart and realized that, while his pelt wasn't the same, he resembled Hawkscar in a way that was almost eerie.
As a more comfortable silence fell over her, she couldn't help but wonder how Swallowclaw knew her mentor so well. Remember his roots, Heatherstar. The words resonated clearly within her mind, and so the question surfaced within her; how exactly did these cats know Hawkscar? What exactly were his roots? A glance at Swallowclaw was enough to tell her not to ask—his soft gaze had grown sad as he gazed up at the sky, his fluffy brown fur swaying gently in the breeze.
Spottedpaw let out a sigh and rested her head on her paws. Maybe Shadestar will tell me what I need to know, she thought, though she knew it wasn't likely. The smoky-furred ancestor had hardly been direct with her thus far. With another gentle sigh, Spottedpaw closed her eyes and let the warm embrace of the sun lead her into a deep sleep.