The Clan leader let out a snarl of anger and frustration. “Go and find them, then, and bring them back here. I know we can win this fight, but it’s better for the Clan if we end it quickly.”
Yellowfang dipped her head and dashed off, skirting groups of grappling cats. The patrol wasn’t in sight when she emerged from the tunnel, but she knew the direction they would return and bounded off to meet them. Now that she had a moment to think, she was aware of stinging pain all over her body, and realized that she was feeling the wounds of every cat in the battle. Her head clouded with agony, and she blinked to clear it.
We must finish this quickly!
Suddenly new cat scents washed over Yellowfang. Rounding a fallen tree, she skidded to a halt as she saw Raggedpelt, Featherstorm, and Hal facing one another. All three cats were panting and wild-eyed, a terrible tension singing among them.
“Tell me this cat isn’t my father,” Raggedpelt growled at Featherstorm.
His mother flicked her tail. “He gave up the right to be called that long ago. It was his decision.”
Raggedpelt’s eyes widened as he stared at Hal. “You knew all along? But when I found you, you didn’t say anything!”
Hal shrugged. “You want nothing to do with Twolegplace cats. I want nothing to do with the Clans.”
“You have no idea what it was like, growing up without a father.” Raggedpelt’s words sounded as if he were being choked. “And now I find out that my father was a kittypet! Everything my Clanmates taunted me with is true!”
Yellowfang felt her heart tear with sympathy for Raggedpelt, more painful than any wound. She took a pace toward him. “That doesn’t matter!” she told him. “Every cat knows that you are a ShadowClan warrior.”
Raggedpelt rounded on her, his teeth bared. “Stay out of this,” he snarled.
As Yellowfang gazed at him, unable to leave but not knowing what else she could say, the sounds of fighting drifted through the trees, screeches and the crackling of paws through undergrowth growing steadily nearer.
“You should never have come here,” Featherstorm snapped at Hal, then bounded away toward the noise of battle.
Raggedpelt turned to his father, stiff-legged with fury, his neck fur bristling and his tail bushed out to twice its size. “Leave now,” he ordered. “And never come back.”
Hal gave his chest fur a slow, deliberate lick. “You can’t tell me what to do, son,” he drawled.
“I am not your son!” Raggedpelt growled, taking a threatening step forward. “I am a ShadowClan warrior!”
“A warrior with kittypet blood in your veins,” Hal taunted him. “Will your so-called Clanmates ever forget that?”
With a roar of fury Raggedpelt sprang at him; his claws slashed across Hal’s throat. Yellowfang felt agony flash across her neck and through all her body, and for a heartbeat the snow-covered forest turned black in her eyes.
When she recovered, panting and blinking, she saw Hal’s body lying limp on the ground with a great gush of scarlet blood flowing from his throat, staining the snow. “You killed him!” she gasped, staring in horror.
“He should have left when he had the chance,” Raggedpelt snarled.
“But he was your father!” Yellowfang protested.
Raggedpelt turned to face her. Yellowfang could see her own horror reflected in his eyes, but his voice was cold. “He was nothing but a useless kittypet.”
Before Yellowfang could say more, new cat scent drifted over her. Russetpaw and Boulder emerged through the trees along with Frogtail and Deerleap.
“What’s going on?” Boulder demanded.
“Marmalade and the kittypets are attacking our camp,” Yellowfang explained. “They think we’re keeping you as prisoners.”
As she spoke, Russetpaw spotted Hal’s body and bounded forward to stand over him, looking down at him in dismay. “What happened?” she gasped, her voice shaking.
“He tried to attack Yellowfang,” Raggedpelt replied. “I had no choice.”
Russetpaw and Boulder exchanged a horrified glance. Yellowfang opened her jaws to contradict Raggedpelt’s lie, then picked up his amber glare and knew there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t make everything worse.
“But the warrior code says…” Boulder began.
“This cat wasn’t part of the warrior code,” Raggedpelt interrupted. “Now come back to camp and tell the rest of these wretched cats that you don’t need rescuing.”
He set off toward the camp at a run. Boulder hesitated for a moment, then followed. Frogtail and Deerleap bounded after them.
Russetpaw remained standing over Hal’s body, gazing down at him with grief in her eyes.
Yellowfang padded up to her and gave her a gentle nudge. “We have to go.”
“He was my father,” Russetpaw whispered.
Oh, StarClan. Yellowfang hoped that the young she-cat never learned that Hal was Raggedpelt’s father too. At least there are other broad-shouldered dark tabbies in the Clan who Russetpaw might assume to be Raggedpelt’s father.
Yellowfang gave Russetpaw another nudge and padded beside her until they reached the camp. Looking around, Yellowfang saw that although one or two skirmishes were still going on, most of the kittypets had surrendered. Clan cats stood over them, their flanks heaving and blood dripping from their scratches.
Cedarstar was standing in the center of the clearing. “Here are Russetpaw and Boulder.” His eyes gleamed as he beckoned the two young cats with his tail. “Let them step forward.”
Russetpaw and Boulder padded up to their Clan leader, a mixture of embarrassment and horror in their faces as they looked around at the battle-torn cats.
Cedarstar angled his ears toward Marmalade. “Tell this cat why you are here,” he commanded.
“We wanted to see what life was like in the forest,” Boulder began, raising his head confidently. “And we think it’s good.”
“We chose to stay,” Russetpaw added, ducking her head at Marmalade. “They’re not keeping us prisoners.”
Marmalade’s mouth fell open.
Pixie bounded up to his side, her eyes wide with astonishment. “How can you prefer to live with these wild, cruel creatures?” she demanded. “We came to rescue you!”
“Cruel?” There was an edge to Cedarstar’s voice. “We aren’t the cats who attacked. If you had come here peacefully and asked, there would have been no need for bloodshed.”
“It was Hal’s idea,” Marmalade admitted. “He refused to give up on you, Red. Where is he, by the way?” he added, glancing around.
“He’s dead,” Russetpaw choked out.
Marmalade and Pixie exchanged a horrified glance. Yellowfang heard a gasp from Featherstorm, too. Glancing at her, she saw nothing that suggested grief or shock in her expression, but Yellowfang guessed that the she-cat was not as indifferent as she liked to pretend.
“He had to die,” Raggedpelt growled. “He was attacking Yellowfang.”
“You may take his body away,” Cedarstar told Marmalade. “Leave our territory and stay out of it. We have treated you gently this time, believe me.”
Marmalade let out an angry hiss, but he turned to leave.
Pixie padded up to Russetpaw and Boulder. “If you ever change your mind, you’ll always be welcome to come back.”
“Thank you,” Boulder replied, dipping his head. “But we’re warriors now.”
Pixie shook her head sadly. “Hal paid for this with his life,” she mewed. “And it was all for nothing.”
“He was very brave,” Russetpaw murmured, her eyes still full of grief. “We won’t forget him, I promise.”