sparkclangen - Tumblr blog

sparkclangen · 9 months ago

Text

Month 19 - Leaffall

The rogues attacked from downwind. Somehow, despite their multitude of bell collars, they approached the camp silently, only revealing themselves when they appeared at the top of the ridge and poured down into camp. Barleybee had been talking with Aldertail when it happened and in the time it took to blink, Aldertail was gone, sprinting as quickly as she could away from the camp.

The rogues hit like a wave and it took a few moments for Barleybee to reorient herself in the tide of muscle and claws. She found herself on her back underneath a pair of snapping jaws that she barely managed to keep at bay by extending her long legs. She pulled herself together, kicked hard, and sent the kittypet reeling just long enough for her to climb to her feet.

Another kittypet lunged in to fill the other’s space, lashing out with both claws, and she barely avoided losing an eye with a corkscrew twist. There were so many of them, jostling around each other claustrophobically. She danced backwards, using her long reach to her advantage as she skirted claws and teeth and threw in a strike here or there.

One of the kittypets struck hard in the elbow and she limped backwards only for another to lunge in and topple her onto her back again. She hissed and kicked out but this one didn’t give. He sank his teeth into her shoulder and she cried out in pain. The other cat was snapping at her tail. The number of cats was overwhelming, threatening to shut her brain down entirely which was terrifying. She could feel her thoughts spiraling out of control, wondering where Slatepaw was or if Songdust would be able to keep up with the amount of enemies.

“Barley!” Yarrowshade’s voice snapped her back into the here and now. With a painful tug on her shoulder, the cat on top of her was tackled to the side and she managed to focus long enough to kick the other kittypet hard in the face. She stood and found herself back to back with Yarrowshade, relief flooding through her from every inch of him that pressed up against her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said without looking at him. The kittypet prowled in front of her, looking for a gap in her defense.

“Get off me!” Yellowkit’s voice screamed above the din and it took all of her restraint not to turn her head towards the sound.

“The kits,” she gasped.

“Go,” Yarrowshade said, “They need you.” She didn’t wait. Darting sideways, she wove around the thronging combatants, Yarrowshade snarling behind her. She moved as quickly as she could to the nursery, managing to leap and spring past any attacks that came her way until she came upon a smoky tabby hoisting Yellowkit by his scruff, another cat’s tail twitching in the entryway to the nursery as Bluekit screamed inside.

“Back off!” Barleybee roared, smacking the tabby as hard as she could across the face. There was a righteous satisfaction in the resistance of his flesh against her claws. He reeled and Yellowkit managed to pull out of his grasp.

“Help!” he wailed, trying to crawl underneath her, which wasn’t exactly helpful.

“Get in the nursery!” she ordered, landing another sharp blow on the tabby’s head. Yellowkit nodded and rushed past her into the den. Barleybee turned quickly, hoping the tabby stayed down, and latched her teeth into the other rogue’s leg, yanking him backwards until his hindquarters were out of the den. Bluekit screamed even louder and Barleybee gave another frantic tug.

“What the-” The kittypet wheeled around and swiped at her but she tumbled under the blow and into the nursery. Twisting onto her feet, she slashed at his eyes driving him backwards into the clearing. The two kittypets loomed close, glaring at her but she arched her back and did her best to block the entryway with her body.

“Bluekit, are you hurt?” she asked over her shoulder.

“No, ma’am,” the kit said, voice trembling.

“Good,” she nodded. “Both of you stay at the back of the den.”

“Yes, ma’am,” cried Bluekit.

“Okay,” Yellowkit sniffled.

“Out of the way, girl,” growled the second rogue, a burly, fawn-colored tom in a green collar.

“No way,” hissed Barleybee.

“We’re just here for the kits,” said the smoke tabby, much calmer, as if they weren’t in the middle of a bloodbath. “They belong in the city with their mother. It’s wrong to keep them separated like this, surely you can see that.”

“They’re happy where they are,” she said. “Touch them again and I’ll make you pay for it.” The tabby’s eyes darkened with thought. The fawn tom lunged.

Barleybee had been waiting and she braced herself against his weight as he tried to shove her backwards into the den, paws skidding in the dirt. She wrapped her paws around his neck and sank her teeth into his cheek, twisting her head with her jaw clamped firmly around his flesh. He hissed in pain, twisted his head with hers to avoid the worst of the pain, and ended up losing his balance, forced to fall back. Barleybee gave him a few more claw wounds to send him on his way.

The tabby moved in and reared up to swipe at her. Barleybee could tell by his stance that he would be easy to tackle but she ignored the temptation, instead swatting his paws out of the air before they could reach her face. He dropped back down, scowling, and she smirked in return.

“Nice try,” she said. “I’m not moving.”

“You’re smart,” said the tabby, “I’ll give you that.” Barleybee couldn’t help but be flattered, even if the cat complimenting her was despicable. When she realized it, her chest seized with panic. Was that a trick? Was he trying to get her to drop her guard with flattery? Had she already made a fatal mistake? She squared her stance, ears pressed back against her head, and bared her teeth. The smoky tabby’s tail twitched irritably.

“London!” a voice hissed, “What’s the hold up?” Slinking in from the edge of the clearing came a small brown tabby with a dark mask and a silver collar. He glared at the smoky tabby for a beat before turning his cruel green gaze on Barleybee.

“They’re big kits,” London said. “It’s not so easy to drag them off.”

“Besides,” growled the fawn cat, “this bitch is blocking the door.”

“She’s one girl!” the new tabby snapped, tail bristling. “Do your jobs already! Casper and I have already finished ours.”

“If you’re so competent, do it yourself,” the fawn cat’s lip curled. The masked tabby’s gaze turned venomous. Barleybee took the chance to catch her breath, ears and eyes alert for any sign that one of them was about to move. She had to anticipate their attacks, had to be ready for anything. Yellowkit and Bluekit were counting on her.

Suddenly a new chorus of yowls broke out from the north-west. The movement of the battle shifted, turning towards the flood of cats that was pouring into the clearing. Barleybee’s eyes widened as she saw Snowstar and Orangestar clawing their way side by side into the heart of the fighting.

“Reinforcements,” London hissed under his breath, his thick fur brushing up.

“Quickly!” spat the masked tabby. “Let’s grab the kits and leave already!”

The fawn cat lunged for Barleybee again and this time he took her to the ground. Yellowkit and Bluekit screamed in chorus as he slammed her onto her back. She kicked as hard as she could, trying to tear up his belly, and he twisted off of her, leaving claw marks on her shoulders.

The nursery had been breached. London darted in over her, moving straight for the kits, only to be suddenly pulled backward by his tail. He yowled in pain, twisted around and slashed at Russetfrond but the deputy held fast to his tail. With another yank, he dragged London back out, stripping a section of his tail of fur.

“You again,” the masked tabby grumbled, dropping low into a crouch. Russetfrond growled around the tail in his mouth.

Barleybee quickly rolled to her feet and lunged for the rogue inside the nursery, tearing his fawn pelt in her claws as she chased him up against one of the walls. He kicked her hard in the belly and she stumbled back, trying to make her body as big of a barrier between him and the kittens as she could, but, to her surprise, he took the opportunity to slip through the entrance and take off into the night.

“Coward!” shouted the masked tabby.

London had finally managed to get Russetfrond to let go of his tail and now he backed up next to the smaller cat. “I think it’s time to go.” Barleybee quickly moved to block the entrance again. Outside, the battlefield had changed dramatically. Now outnumbered, the city cats were starting to fall back one by one, only making the remaining rogues more outnumbered with every second.

“Sardine, right?” Russetfrond growled, prowling forward. “You’re not going anywhere this time.” Appearing from the crowd, Sparrowsway hissed his agreement and moved to cut off the rear. The masked tabby -- Sardine, it seemed -- glanced warily at both of them, shifting into a smaller, defensive stance. London growled and turned to keep an eye on Sparrowsway, his tail twitching threateningly back and forth.

A white shape slammed into Russetfrond’s side, pushing him off his feet. The deputy swayed, caught himself, and lurched back at the snub-nosed kittypet who had attacked him. The rogue’s face was drenched in blood, a crimson streak stark against his glossy white fur. Barleybee shuddered at the sight. Whose blood had he spilt? Was it someone she knew?

“Just in time, Casper,” Sardine purred smugly. He sprang towards Barleybee and she braced herself only to realize he was leaping up over her head to escape. Sparrowsway lunged after him but London tackled him out of the air and they rolled away, hissing violently as they clawed at each other. Barleybee bunched her legs to go after Sardine but froze. She glanced over her shoulder at the kittens huddled frightfully against the wall of the nursery. They stared at her with matching pairs of wide, glistening copper eyes.

What if she left and they were kitnapped because of her? But wasn’t catching the leader of the city cats a top priority? Her ears fell back against her head as she realized that in her indecision she had made her choice. Swallowing, she braced herself in the entryway again. London and Casper had detached themselves from their opponents in the time she’d spent waffling and fled after their leader. Russetfrond snarled after them for a moment, then his gaze fell on her and he hurried over.

“Are they alright?” he asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Yes, they’re safe,” she stepped to the side and pressed herself up against the wall to let him in.

“Father!” Bluekit wailed and rushed to press his face into Russetfrond’s fur. Yellowkit was close behind and Barleybee’s chest swelled with emotion as Russetfrond crouched down over his kits and ran his tongue over their pelts.

“Did they hurt you?” he growled, checking their bellies and sides for wounds.

“They didn’t hurt us,” Bluekit shook his head.

“They were trying to take us away!” Yellowkit sobbed.

“Those foxhearts,” Russetfrond snarled, curling tightly around his sons. “I’ll make them pay for that.”

“That’s the last one!” Branchbark’s voice called out. Things had quieted somewhat but the camp was still noisy with the sound of EarthClan and SkyClan’s warriors.

Stormwhisper leapt up on the Stoneperch and called, “Everyone with a serious injury, please gather over on the big flat stone there! Everyone else, please disperse so that we can tend to the wounded.” The crowd slowly began to separate and drift away from each other.

Coyotechaser barked, “Someone help me take this kittypet out of camp and bury him.” Beneath her paws lay a tabby and white kittypet with glazed over expression.

“I’ll help,” said Pantherhaze, limping over to her. Together, they started dragging the body out of camp, thank StarClan. Barleybee sighed, stepped away from the nursery, content that the kittens were safe, and padded over to Sparrowsway.

He looked her over and asked, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. She had her fair share of claw marks and a bite or two but nothing that needed immediate attention. “You?”

“I’m fine,” he nodded. “I can’t believe they attacked during the gathering. Mystique must have told them about it.” He glared at the dirt, kneading his claws in frustration. Barleybee frowned worriedly.

“I guess so…” she mumbled. Self-consciously, she straightened out a few of her feathers that had been knocked askew in the fight. She was certain that a few had fallen out. She’d have to find another cardinal to replace them…

A sudden scream cut through the air. Barleybee’s hackles shot up and her eyes darted across the camp to where Fogpaw was quickly backing out of the healers’ den. The apprentice’s fur stood on end, making her a white puff ball, and her tail arched sharply down behind her, ears pressed against her head.

“What is it?” Scorchplume bounded over to her and searched her face. Fogpaw shook her head, staring unfocused into the mouth of the den. “Fogpaw, what’s wrong?” Fogpaw shook her head some more, this time meeting Scorch’s gaze, and burst into tears, flinging herself into her mentor’s chest. Scorchplume stiffened and very gingerly pulled the apprentice close, staring at Goldenstar for help. Goldenstar, standing by her den with Orangestar and Snowstar, looked just as lost and extremely concerned.

After a moment, Floodstrike stepped out of the healer’s den, his paws drenched in thick, dark blood. He looked angrier than Barleybee had ever seen him and his eyes were red with tears. Dread gripped her chest tightly in its claws as the whole clearing held its breath.

“Sagetooth and Lakepaw are dead,” he said hoarsely. “The herb stores are destroyed.”

“Oh, stars,” Barleybee breathed. They’d been sick. Undefended. An overwhelming wave of crushing guilt fell over her. She should have known. She should have gone to help them. Someone else would have saved the kittens, she should have rescued Lakepaw. She started to cry as well, paws shaking as the adrenaline crash consumed her.

“No,” Branchbark sobbed. Quickly, he hurried past Floodstrike into the healers’ den, jostling Floodstrike who failed to step out of the way.

“Bogmist!” Stormwhisper stood up from where he had been inspecting Ospreymask’s wounds. “I need cobwebs and sorrel right now.” The EarthClan deputy nodded and took off towards the woods. Stormwhisper looked at the nearest non-RisingClan warrior and said, “You! I need fresh moss and water from the river. Go!” Nodding dutifully, Pebblefall leapt to his feet and dashed off into the fields.

“Floodstrike,” Sparrowsway started towards his brother but Floodstrike turned his head away and stalked out of camp. Sparrowsway paused and looked back at Barleybee.

She swallowed, sniffed, and said, “I’ll talk to him.” Quickly, she strode across camp to follow him. She caught up with him at the bottom of the hill on the southern side of camp, calling, “Floodstrike, wait!”

“I’m going to kill them,” he spat through tears, still walking. “I’m going to kill every single one of those monsters.”

“Wh- Now?” Barleybee asked, following his gaze towards the glowing orange of the distant city lights. “Floodstrike, that’s impossible! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“So what?” he rounded on her, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I have to do something! She needed me and I let her die! I failed her!”

“You couldn’t have known!” Barleybee pleaded. “It’s not your fault, Floodstrike.”

“She was my apprentice,” he sniffed harshly. “She looked up to me -- stars, she was so young! She was my little girl and they killed her!”

“I know,” Barleybee’s tears were flowing freely now. “I know, Floodstrike. But trying to take revenge isn’t going to make you feel any better. It will only make you a killer too.”

“I’m not doing this for me!” he hissed, tail arching, “I’m doing this for her! She’s watching! She deserves to know I’m not just going to accept what they did to her!”

“She wouldn’t want you to do this,” Barleybee stepped closer. “She was so sweet and kind. She would want you to move on and heal, Floodstrike. Please, come back to camp with me.” She watched his face for a good, long moment. His eyes were blazing with fury and red with grief. His throat rippled with effort. Eventually, he grit his teeth and looked down at his paws, chest shuddering with sobs, and sat down. Barleybee sat down next to him and pressed her head against his.

“I… I can’t believe she’s gone,” he whispered between breaths.

“I’m so sorry,” Barleybee pressed firm licks to his cheeks. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have to be this way.” Something about that caused him to break down even harder and he collapsed into her side. Barleybee wrapped her arms around his neck and eased him down to the ground. The two of them lay there, holding each other, and Barleybee tried to convince herself that, at the very least, if she couldn’t be there for Lakepaw it was good that she could be there for Floodstrike.

The thought rang hollow and she spent the rest of the night thinking of what she could have done differently -- what she should have done differently. When they went back for the vigil, she whispered an apology to Lakepaw’s body. When they found white and dark tabby fur under Lakepaw’s claws, Barleybee knew exactly who was responsible but held off on telling Floodstrike. When they went to bed, she, Sparrowsway, and Oddstripe curled tightly around Floodstrike in a single nest, weary eyed and worn.

Sardine would be held accountable for his atrocities, she vowed, knowing everyone else in camp had likely made the same vow.

#can we kill sardine pls #dont kidnap kids #clangenrising #other clans

81 notes · View notes