EOTW: Code of the Forest: Chapter Eight

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War
Book 5: Code of the Forest
Chapter Eight

     When dawn came, Lightfoot woke the other warriors. “We need to get going,” he mewed in a low voice. “A rogue patrol passed by not long ago. It sounded like they were looking for us, and more will probably be coming. We need to get back to the city before the rogues find us.”

     Silentstorm still felt groggy with sleep, but she did her best to help clean up the den, discarding the moss from their nests and using strong-smelling herbs to cover their scent in the den. Lightfoot slipped off to find them all something to eat while Finstrike, Nightfern, and Silentstorm worked together to clean up the den. Nightfern still seemed quiet, but her stunned sense of grief seemed to have given way to bitter determination.

     “He'll pay for this,” Silentstorm heard her murmur as she swept moss out of the den. “I'll make sure of it.”

     Lightfoot didn't take long to return, a squirrel in his jaws. They ate quickly, scarfing down quick bites of squirrel, before quickly disposing of the bones. With every cat fed, and no traces left of their having stayed in the fox den, they were ready to head back to the city.

     Nightfern took up the lead again, Finstrike watching the rear as Lightfoot and Silentstorm walked side by side. The she-cat's wounds from the previous day were aching, and she still felt slower and more tired than usual. But she was able to keep up better than the previous night, whether because she'd rested or because the pace was slower, she wasn't sure. But Lightfoot kept a careful watch on her even as she walked along.

     They traveled through ThunderClan's forest. Even a moon later, Silentstorm could smell ashes everywhere, and a lot of the undergrowth was gone, many trees reduced to char or fallen branches. She shuddered. “I almost forgot that the forest was burned this badly,” she murmured to Lightfoot. “Do you think it will ever grow back the same?”

     Lightfoot seemed equally disturbed, stepping gingerly over a charred branch. “I don't know,” he whispered back. “Maybe not. But I remember Cloudtail telling us about the fire in ThunderClan's old territory. The forest regrew then, and they were able to hunt and survive in their territory even after it burned. We can do it again.”

     Luckily, as they moved along, it seemed the entire forest had not been burned. The undergrowth under Silentstorm's paws became thicker as they moved closer to the ShadowClan border, and the smell of ash wasn't so strong. It was gone completely by the time they reached ShadowClan territory.

     It took the better part of the day for them to travel out of Clan territory entirely, the sun beginning to set as they neared the borders of the city. Even as they passed out of ShadowClan territory, Silentstorm began to feel uneasy. She had been hearing small things, the brushing of a branch, the soft rustle of a leaf, behind them for quite some time. They hadn't run into any rogue patrols yet, which was suspicious enough, but now she was getting the increasing feeling that they were being followed.

     "Do you all think...?"

     Finstrike gave a short nod. "Yes. At least two of them, not far behind us," she said in a low, clipped tone. The group continued walking on, giving no outward indication that they suspected anything was amiss.

     "Why are they following us?" Lightfoot asked quietly. "You heard Breeze, he wanted us dead. Why not just kill us?"

     "Maybe we outnumber them," Silentstorm suggested.

     Nightfern spoke from the front of the group, her tone grim. "Or maybe they want us to lead them to where the rest of the Clans are hiding, so they can kill us all together."

     Every other cat was stunned into silence as they realized she was right. The one thing Breeze wanted more than anything was to destroy the Clans entirely. They had managed to evade him by hiding in the city, but if Breeze's rogues followed their little patrol back to the city, he might be able to find them at last. And it would be all their fault for leading them there.

     "Then we can't let them follow us," Finstrike mewed firmly. "We'll have to throw them off our tail."

     Nightfern's jaw clenched. "Follow me," she growled.

     The WindClan she-cat picked up the pace, pushing the group to a brisk trot. They veered off course for a while as they traveled away from the breeze, letting the wind blow their scent away from their stalkers. Silentstorm wasn't sure whether the rogues were close enough to follow by sight, or whether they were following by sound, but they did their best to thwart on both fronts. Nightfern would lead them through thick patches of undergrowth, then quickly change their direction so it wasn't obvious by sight where they had gone. They followed a stream for a while and rolled briefly in strong-smelling leaves to try and mask their scent.

     The detours made their trip take longer, but Silentstorm hoped it had been enough to throw off the rogues following them. They reached the edges of the city as the sun set, slipping back into the stone paths, foul stenches, and loud noises of the city. Silentstorm felt a pang of sadness as they left the forest behind again. Who knows when we'll see our home again? she wondered morosely.

     Even when they reached the city, Nightfern kept their path hard to follow, weaving through the twisting back alleys of the city instead of taking the straight-forward route back. The sun had finished setting when they finally reached the stone barn.

     “They're back!” The patrol was swarmed by cats as they leaped onto the floor of the stone barn from the window. Silentstorm was instantly surrounded on all sides by cats sniffing her pelt and nuzzling her. Cinderheart and Lionblaze were beside her right away, Blazeheart pressing his muzzle against her cheek and giving a worried purr.

     “We were looking for you all day!” her brother mewed, shaky relief in his tone. “No cat could find you, and your scent was impossible to follow over the stench of the city.”

     Silentstorm leaned into the embrace of her family, suddenly hit with how exhausted she felt. “I'm sorry,” she murmured. “I would have told you where I was going, but there wasn't time, and we couldn't let Nightfern go alone.”

     “Nightfern?” Cats began to turn to the WindClan she-cat, nosing her and asking her questions. Nightfern shied away, tail twitching uncertainly. Wetwhisker and Darkbreeze were by her side, as well as her other kits. Wetwhisker was pressing his pelt against hers, his chin laid over her head as he murmured to her.

     The crowd grew more quiet, and Silentstorm scented the leaders approaching them, coming to stand before the patrol. “I'm glad you're all back safely,” came Bramblestar's deep rumble. “Now, I would like to know why you were missing for two days.”

     Nightfern sighed, before taking a step towards the leaders. “It was my fault,” she said in a low voice. “I had a dream... I thought it was from StarClan. I dreamed that Graykit was in danger.” Silentstorm heard a surprised mew from Wetwhisker. “I saw a crow's feather leading me to the rogues' new camp. I was determined to go and save him, and I asked if the others would help me.”

     “What happened?” Wetwhisker asked, voice shaking. “Why isn't he with you?”

     Nigthfern lowered her head, grief heavy in her tone. “We managed to find the rogue's camp, right where my dream showed me it would be. Silentstorm and I snuck down to lead Graykit out of there, and he started to come with us, but then he... he sounded the alarm. The rogues surrounded us, and he bounded to Breeze like they were best friends. He said he liked being with Breeze. He's calling himself Gray now. When Breeze ordered his cats to attack us, he just... watched.”

     Thicketpaw gasped, pulling away from his mother in shock. “Graykit did that?” he gasped. “He betrayed you?” Shadepaw and Gorsepaw pressed against Thicketpaw, the littermates huddling together as they heard about their brother's betrayal. Nightfern reached out her muzzle, giving soothing licks to her three loyal kits.

     “We managed to escape with Lightfoot and Finstrike's help,” Silentstorm picked up the story. “We hid in an old fox den for the night, and then we made our way back here in the morning.”

     Sedgewhisker's tail bristled in surprise. “You had a dream from StarClan, and you didn't talk to me or Heathertail first? You could have been killed!”

     Wetwhisker was looking at his mate, his pelt bristling in shock. “Why didn't you tell me?” he asked in a low mew. “I would have gone with you.”

     Nightfern sighed. “I would have, but I couldn't find you. You were on patrol, and I didn't want to wait. I thought Gray needed help right away.” Wetwhisker didn't respond, simply laying his muzzle back over her head, giving a low, comforting purr.

     “We will discuss punishment for leaving the city against orders later,” Mistystar mewed, though there was definite sympathy in her voice. “For now, eat up, get some rest, and check in with the medicine cats if you've been hurt.”

     Silentstorm dipped her head, then padded away as the crowd began to break up. True to her promise, she headed straight for the medicine den, pushing past the bracken entrance. Kestrelflight was out of the den, as was Willowshine, but the rest were in the den, sorting herbs or resting. They all looked up as Silentstorm entered the den. “Silentstorm!” Finchwing had crossed the den in a few moments, touching his nose to Silentstorm's. “Thank StarClan, I wasn't sure whether the patrols would be able to find you.”

     Leafpool stood more slowly from her nest, approaching Silentstorm with a purr. “It's good to see you again, Silentstorm,” she mewed quietly. “Your parents were getting worried about you.”

     Silentstorm ducked her head, embarrassed. “I know. I'm sorry.”

     Leafpool just gave a dismissive wave of her tail. “You're hardly the only cat of your line to cause trouble by sneaking out of camp,” she said, whiskers twitching.

     Finchwing glanced curiously at the she-cat. “You're wounded,” he said, a note of concern in his mew.

     “There was a fight,” Silentstorm explained. “Nothing serious. But I've been feeling kind of sick the last few days. I was wondering if you could tell me what was wrong.”

     Leafpool's ears perked in interest. “Finchwing, start mixing a poultice for her wounds,” the she-cat ordered in her soft mew. “I'll check her over.”

     Finchwing nodded, padding to the far end of the den to sort through the herb stores. The tom seemed far happier as a medicine cat apprentice than he had ever been as a warrior apprentice. He was always seen hurrying back and forth from the medicine den, making expeditions into the edges of the city to gather herbs, treating aching joints and minor illnesses, and checking on the elders and queens. There was a lightness in his step that Silentstorm hadn't seen since he was a kit. His announcement that he was going to be a medicine cat apprentice had surprised Silentstorm at first, but it was clear now that this was what he was meant to be.

     As he began making the poultice, Leafpool approached Silentstorm, sniffing her all over. “Well, no fever,” she mewed thoughtfully. “That's a good sign. How have you been feeling, exactly?”

     Silentstorm began to tell Leafpool the symptoms she'd noticed, how she'd felt slower and less hungry. Leafpool listened as she sniffed curiously at Silentstorm's pelt, running a paw over her back and sides. Suddenly the she-cat paused, an amused purr escaping her.

     “What?” Silentstorm asked, puzzled. She couldn't imagine what had made the medicine cat amused.

     Leafpool pulled back, whiskers twitching. “Well, I can tell you why you've been feeling sick,” she mewed. “You're expecting kits, Silentstorm.”

     “What?” Silentstorm stumbled back, back arching in shock. She couldn't comprehend it. “But... are you sure?”

     “Positive,” Leafpool mewed warmly. “I'd say they'll probably be due in two moons. You should move into the nursery soon.”

     Finchwing looked up from across the den. “You're expecting kits?” he repeated, sounding surprised. “Congratulations! Who's the father?”

     Lightfoot... Her heart began to race, confusion and fear tangling up her thoughts. She had only started seeing Lightfoot in any sort of romantic light a little over a moon ago. They weren't even mates yet, if it was going to come to that. They certainly weren't anywhere near any conversation about having kits. They'd gotten pretty close, but she didn't know if she was ready to raise kits with him.

     “I... I have to go,” she muttered, hardly hearing her own words. She stumbled away, tripping over her own paws as she exited the den.

     She didn't realize she was trembling until she was out in the open space of the stone barn. Her paws were shaking, her pelt fluffing out as she tried to rationalize what she had just learned. Kits. She was expecting kits. In only two moons, she would be a mother, with young lives depending on her to love and protect them, and to raise them. And they were Lightfoot's...

     After a few moments, she managed to collect her thoughts enough to determine one thing – she had to tell him. She took off for the warrior's den, trying to sort out her tangled thoughts.

     Nightfern had gone to find Kestrelflight, but Finstrike and Lightfoot had retreated to the warrior's den, settling into their nests for the night. No cat was asleep yet, however, and a few cats mewed greetings to Silentstorm as she entered the den. She ignored them all, making her way to Lightfoot's nest. “Hey,” she mewed quietly to him. “Can I talk to you alone for a moment?”

     The tom rose from his nest, fighting back a yawn. “Of course,” he mewed groggily. He allowed Silentstorm to lead him out of the den, the two cats retreating to a far corner of the den. Lightfoot seemed to grow more awake as they did, his ears perking and his tone concern as he asked, “What's going on?”

     Silentstorm flicked her ears around, making sure they were alone. For a few moments, she was at a loss for words. Lightfoot's worry only seemed to grow. “Silentstorm?” he mewed softly, reaching out his muzzle to brush against hers. “Are you okay? You're trembling.”

     She pulled away, ducking her head. “I just spoke with Leafpool,” she mewed quietly.

     “And?”

     The she-cat sighed, trying to fight back her fear. “I'm expecting kits,” she admitted quietly.

     Lightfoot froze, tail fluffing out in shock. It was several moments before he could speak. “You're... really? You're expecting kits?”

     “Yes.” She hesitated, before adding, “Your kits.”

     A huff of laughter escaped Lightfoot, a sound of shock rather than amusement. He took a small step towards her, as though to approach her, then held back, hesitating. “Wow,” he breathed. “My kits... Great StarClan, I wasn't... wow.” He sounded stunned, a slight note of awe in his tone, but also fear.

     Silentstorm gave a shaky breath. “What are we going to do?”

     “I don't know,” Lightfoot mewed quietly. “I mean... I know neither of us were preparing for anything like this anytime soon.” He gave a slow shake of his head, still sounding stunned. Silentstorm couldn't blame him. They were both hardly half a year out of the apprentice's den, they had barely been close for more than a moon. Beyond all of that, Silentstorm had her own reasons to be apprehensive. She enjoyed being a warrior, with the freedom to hunt and patrol for her Clan. She hadn't been planning to give that up for eight moons in the nursery any time soon.

     And what about the prophecy? She was the one destined to save the Clans from Shade, and the darkness she would bring to every living creature. How was she supposed to do that if she was stuck in the nursery, slower and clumsier, with helpless kits to protect? Horrible fear came over her at the thought of Shade with a body at last, coming after the helpless kits of the Silent One in order to punish her for trying to stop her. For the first time, she felt a fierce rush of protectiveness for her kits. I'll never let that happen.

     After several moments of silence, Lightfoot finally spoke. “I'm scared,” he admitted. “I never really thought about being a father. I was never great with kits. But... if these kits are ours, I want to be a father to them.” The tom pulled back for a moment, ears pinned back in embarrassment. “I know we're not mates,” he muttered. “I understand if you don't want to work together to raise these kits. But I want to be there for them.”

     Silentstorm listened to Lightfoot, something warm growing in her chest. She was still scared, more scared than she had ever been in her life. But she starting to become sure of something that she thought she'd been feeling for a while. It was something calming for her mind to grasp onto, in the midst of all of the panic she was feeling.

     Slowly, she approached Lightfoot. He gave a surprised purr as she pressed her muzzle against his cheek, then lifting it to lay on top of his head. “I love you, Lightfoot,” she murmured, resting her cheek against the top of his head. “And I'm scared too. I don't know if I'm ready for this. But with these kits coming, I want to raise them with you, together. If that's alright.”

     He let out a shaky breath, shifting so that he was leaning against Silentstorm's pelt, leaning into her embrace. “I love you too,” he mewed softly back. “And if you mean it, we'll raise these kits together.”

     For several moments, the two cats sat together, leaning into the embrace of the other, and trying to come to terms with the enormous change that had come to their lives. Silentstorm knew this was going to change everything, that soon she and Lightfoot would have to be parents, that they would have helpless young lives depending on them. She had no idea what kind of mother she would make. But at the very least, she knew she had the love and support of the tom beside her. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.