Chapter Text
Twolegs moved back and forth in the darkness, the stripes on their bright orange pelts reflecting their artificial lights like a cat’s eye. The enormous Monsters with their impossible long necks had stopped coming a while ago. The screeching of Twoleg-tools was no longer ringing through the forest. Day and night, new patrols of Twolegs had arrived to do their mysterious work, yowling at each other and carrying heavy planks of wood or shiny stone, fitting it all together endlessly into one vast creation. Their racket had disturbed all the prey near the gorge’s edge, sending some of it further into their territory, but driving the rest out of reach of the hungry Clan who watched the construction diligently, unsure what exactly the Twolegs were trying to make. Slowly, the moons-long project was clearly coming to an end as smaller and smaller patrols showed up, until now, all who remained were quietly wandering up and down their handiwork, nodding and meowing appreciatively to each other. The constant noise that had battered the Warriors of Dawnclan for moons seemed to have finally ceased. Hidden atop a forested slope in the dark, cats watched warily as the Twolegs carried the last of their clutter into monsters that crouched on the cliffside opposite them. One by one, the monsters began to growl and speed away, back to the spider-web of twoleg nests that dotted the landscape on the West side of the gorge.
“Do you think they’re coming back?” whispered a young cream she-cat nervously. They were all crouched on higher ground, hidden among the leaves of a low, sweeping tree.
“We cannot yet be sure, Silkpaw,” a black she-cat answered her apprentice. She did not tear her gaze from the Twoleg construction, watchful for any new activity.
“We should go down there and check it out, right?” a grey spotted tabby’s paws itched with curiosity as though he wanted to leap down to the gorge’s edge right now.
“Have patience, Branchstripe,” Morningstar told her son. “There is no telling what to expect now. This watch patrol is too weary to investigate tonight. Tomorrow the Clan will discuss when to investigate closer; for now, we wait for Eveningsun’s patrol to relieve us.” The leader of Dawnclan shook out her magnificent dappled grey-and-white fur and resettled into a more comfortable position.
“What is that thing?” Silkpaw asked. The Twoleg construction was a long, narrow, wood-and-stone structure that spanned the steep rocky gorge that had marked the edge of Dawnclan’s territory for as long as any cat could remember. Where once there had been empty air, the Twolegs had created a stretch of wooden floor to walk above the frothing river that rushed far below.
“I think it is a bridge,” Morningstar replied. “If this is truly the extent of the Twolegs’ work, we can put Screechclaw’s misgivings to rest.”
Branchstripe snorted. “I don’t know how that mouse-brain thought the Twolegs were going to destroy the gorge. Like anything could do that!”
“You never know. Meadowsong said they were going to pull the two sides together and squish the river with that long strip- it could have been true!” Silkpaw insisted as Branchstripe purred in amusement.
“Oh, as if. At least I was never worried,” he boasted.
Silkpaw narrowed her eyes, “Yes you were! You started yowling about it to Sandcircle at the Mossrocks and she called you a featherbrained-”
“I see movement!” A sudden hiss quieted their bickering. The black she-cat had not lapsed in her scrutiny.
“Where, Nightfall?” Morningstar asked quietly. Nightfall pointed with her tail to the far side of the bridge, so distant that it was only visible tonight because the moon was bright and full.
The patrol strained to see through the darkness to the other side. Moonlight glinted off of its twoleg-stone railings and the criss cross structure below the smooth wooden path. Morningstar stiffened, Silkpaw’s tail frizzed, and Branchstripe growled in alarm. A sight none of the cats had ever expected to see this night was unfolding in front of them.
“So much for waiting ‘til morning,” Branchstripe murmured.
On the far end of the bridge, unfamiliar cats were crossing over to their side.
In the moonlight stood a tall, powerful cat. Her tail was long and rat-thin, her light blue eyes stared beyond the bridge to the other side, taking in the unbroken swathes of forest with hungry intensity. Her white pelt was so sparse that the colour of her skin was usually visible, though tonight the moonlight did not reveal it. By her side, a russet she-cat and a huge, grey tom surveyed the new construction. The russet cat bent to sniff it.
“Wood and metal,” she said. “It certainly seems secure enough. But any cat could fall straight through the railings-” she peered over the edge and shivered. “That’s a long fall.”
“We can’t reinforce the sides with reeds, the Twolegs will only rip them out again,” the grey tom commented. “Perhaps we should wait for tomorrow, Pinkstar?” he addressed the white she-cat.
“Why wait, Boulderfoot?” Pinkstar replied, still watching the other side. Her mew was soft. “If any cat falls, they are going to do that regardless of lighting. The edges are quite clear. Rustpelt, bring the patrol along. We shall waste no time.”
Rustpelt twitched an ear but nodded. She crept back to the brush and signalled for her waiting warriors.
Cats streamed silently out of the bushes.
“Brownleaf, Heronstep, Cherrybark, Venompool, Proudheart,” Rustpelt addressed most of the cats. “You go ahead, onto the bridge. Be careful of the edges, and test each plank before you put your full weight on it. We don’t want to take any chances.” The named cats picked their way to the bridge; Pinkstar and Boulderfoot joined them to explore it.
“Gritpath, Gravelsong. Keep watch here with Twirlingpaw and Willowpaw.” Rustpelt was reluctant to let apprentices on the bridge just yet. The two she-cats nodded, though they looked disappointed. Gritpath had already turned to give a silencing look to her apprentice, WIllowpaw, who had opened his mouth to argue. He shut it sullenly, and backed away to find a good place to watch what was happening.
The warriors had reached the middle of the bridge. Rustpelt rejoined her mate Boulderfoot with their leader at the front of the troop. Pinkstar hummed to herself. “Just look at all that greenery, and not a single Twoleg nest in sight. We won’t be picked off so easily here.”
“What if it’s already inhabited?” asked Rustpelt.
“We drive them out,” Pinkstar replied matter-of-factly.
“It will be a while before we can move in, inhabited or not,” Boulderfoot mewed. “We’ll be checking for foxes, badgers, traps…”
“I’ll organise scouting trips starting tomorrow,” Rustpelt looked to Pinkstar, who nodded.
“This is going to be the start of something glorious for us.”
At that moment, a yowl came from behind them; one of the apprentices had let out a warning cry. The warriors bristled, scanning both sides of the gorge for danger. Willowpaw ran across the bridge to the front, Gritpath behind him, cursing her apprentice.
“There!” Willowpaw panted, jerking his muzzle toward a low tree that grew on an upwards slope on the East side of the gorge. Cats were watching them intently from between the branches. Now they had been spotted, one of them emerged slowly, followed by the rest.
The first cat was a large she-cat with long, thick fur that made her seem huge. Her light pelt was dappled with many overlapping patches of grey and white in different shades, her tail was a heavy plume, and she had one blue, one yellow eye. Behind her, two more cats emerged; another large thick furred cat, this time a tom, bore a silver spotted tabby coat with a white belly, and a thick stripe of black along his spine. His rounded ears were black too, and they were flattened defensively. The final cat was a black she-cat with barely visible mackerel stripes on her legs.
“Greetings,” the first cat called evenly. She had a deep, rich mew.
Pinkstar watched, her pale gaze unblinking as they came closer. Rustpelt signalled with her tail for her warriors to hold back. Boulderfoot looked as though he wanted to growl a warning at the new cats, but held his tongue. They outnumbered these new cats considerably. If it came to blows, Rustpelt knew they could win.
“Greetings,” Pinkstar replied once the cats had reached the bridge. “Please, come closer. The bridge is safe to walk on,” she added then the cats had stopped to sniff the first wooden plank.
The first cat looked at the large group for a long moment, then padded forward with her more cautious companions.
“We did not expect guests from the West side so soon,” the she-cat mewed. “I am Morningstar, leader of Dawnclan. These are my warriors, Branchstripe and Nightfall.”
Pinkstar’s face finally showed some expression as her eyes widened. “Dawnclan?” Behind her, her warriors gasped in surprise. “What a strange coincidence. We are called Duskclan.”
“Dusk and dawn! But how? We’ve never crossed the river.” Nightfall mewed.
Morningstar gazed at the Duskclan warriors in wonder. “Strange indeed. I’ve never heard about your clan from any of our elders. But we must have known about each other once, surely?”
“How? This gorge cuts the land as far as forever,” mewed Cherrybark, a red-brown she-cat with amber eyes.
Pinkstar cocked her head to one side. “Perhaps we were independently named for which side of the gorge the sun rises and sets. You have the dawn, we have the dusk. But I suppose that won’t be accurate for very long.”
“What do you mean?” Morningstar asked, frowning.
“I mean that Duskclan will no longer be limited to one side of the gorge.” Pinkstar stated it as though it were an established fact. “The Twolegs have provided a bridge to new territory, and we are perfectly positioned to take it by any means necessary.”
Branchstripe shook his head in disbelief as Nightfall’s jaw fell open in outrage. “But we live here!”
Pinkstar cast her gaze over the three Dawnclan cats. Then she glanced back at her own group, and hummed. “I think you may be somewhat outnumbered.” Her pupils narrowed to slits. “So I wouldn't be so sure about that.”
Morningstar’s pelt started to rise. “We did not come here for a fight.,” she growled. “We are merely the watch patrol for this bridge. Our clan is large, and while I would rather avoid unnecessary bloodshed, I don’t doubt for a second that Dawnclan will prevail.” This time it was she who swept an unimpressed gaze at the Duskclan fighting force. It was clear, now that they were close, that many of Duskclan’s cat were thinner than even Nightfall, who had the shortest pelt and leanest build of the three.
Pinkstar glared coldy at Morningstar. She was getting tired of this cat who held herself so surely, even when pitifully outnumbered. She took in a big breath, letting it soothe her. She relaxed and turned away from the Dawnclan warriors, walking back down the bridge for a few fox-lengths. “If that is how you see it, then I will respect your confidence.” She looked appreciatively at her warriors, who were all still trained on the newcomers.
From her mew, Morningstar seemed to have taken her walking away to mean a lull in the tension. She stopped growling, and repeated, “We did not come here for a fight. This bridge has given us new neighbours, but it doesn’t have to give us new enemies. Perhaps this is a good thing- we can share information and resources as allies. How about tomorrow at sunhigh, we can discuss-”
“ATTACK!” Pinkstar yowled.
She spun around to watch her enemy’s shock as Duskclan rushed to meet them.
Boulderfoot barreled into Morningstar, using his weight to his advantage, but Morningstar was just as heavy; she shoved back and struck at his head with a large paw. He ducked the first blow and lashed out with his own, which she used to try and unbalance him. He dropped down to steady himself and Morningstar bore down on the tom, landing blow after blow before he struggled back up to face her.
Meanwhile, Rustpelt and Brownleaf threw themselves on Branchstripe, who disappeared, screeching, underneath them. Heronstep ran to join them but Nightfall slashed at his long legs, leaving a painful gash that sent him sprawling. She turned and dodged Venompool, then Willowpaw. She backed away and held her defence valiantly until Heronstep joined them- she couldn’t avoid all three. Venompool bit her foreleg while Heronstep pushed her down and scored her flank. She shrieked desperately, kicking out, as Willowpaw’s claws dug into her tail.
With a mighty swipe, Morningstar dazed her opponent and leaped on him, churning her hindclaws into his belly until he yowled. She left him gasping and bleeding on the wood and dragged Rustpelt off of her son, throwing her against a railing and swiping at her. Rustpelt ducked and weaved, trading blows, sure-pawed until suddenly her hindpaw met empty air and she lurched, scrambling for purchase. She had nearly backed off the edge of the bridge, and Morningstar hissed in alarm. Neither cat had remembered in the thick of battle that they were on a narrow strip suspended over a bone-shattering drop.
At that moment, Pinkstar finally entered the fray and leaped on Branchstripe before he could extract himself from under Brownleaf. Her claws sliced at his muzzle and he threw his paws over his face to protect it, hissing.
Instead of pushing her off the edge, Morningstar stepped back, giving Rusltpelt the space to move forward. The smaller she-cat gave a tiny nod of gratitude and darted to her mate’s side instead, hauling Boulderfoot away from where Branchstripe, Brownleaf and Pinkstar were whirling and slashing, blood pooling heavily around them.
Morningstar yowled “Retreat!” and again tried to release her son from his predicament, but the final Duskclan cats had surrounded the group. Cherrybark, Proudheart and Gritpath launched themselves at Morningstar. Gravelsong and Twirlingpaw had joined their clanmates to hold down Nightfall. Morningstar could not fight off the three she-cats who swiped and tripped her, each covering for the other’s weakness. She managed to pull enough fur out of Cherrybark to send her jumping back, but in no time at all she returned, trying to get behind Morningstar to attack her flank. Tiring rapidly, the beaten leader knew they couldn’t win, but these cats didn’t seem ready to let them go.
Proudheart, a dilute calico, threw herself at Morningstar’s side, who fell. Gritpath landed heavy blows at her muzzle, looking just like Boulderfoot with her stocky build, grey pelt and dark paws. Cherrybark pinned her down so she couldn’t get up.
Morningstar went limp, her only choice was to wait for her attackers to relent so she could surge up and surprise them. She should never have approached the group of strange cats; now it seemed likely one of them would die because of her mistake. She closed her eyes against another dizzying blow that smacked her head against the wood.
Suddenly a new yowl split the air, and Cherrybark’s weight no longer pinned Morningstar. She opened her eyes and saw the dappled ginger-and-gold pelt of her brother, Eveningsun, as he ruthlessly clawed and bit Cherrybark, churning his hind claws against her spine. Silkpaw had found the relief patrol!
Laurelfrost, a brown she-cat with white paws and underbelly, engaged Proudheart in battle, while her sister Hawkflower, a brown tabby with white chest and paws, pulled Gritpath off of Morningstar. Marblestone, a cream tabby, yowled with rage as she launched herself at her daughter Nightfall’s attackers, slicing fiercely at Venompool and Heronstep. The golden tabby apprentice Sunpaw was wrestling Twirlingpaw, while Silkpaw had torn Willowpaw’s ears viciously to draw him off of her mentor.
Morningstar heaved to her paws and helped Hawkflower fight her much bigger opponent.
Ravenprance, a black tom, had found the gash on Heronstep’s leg and torn it wider, causing Heronstep to screech in agony and limp away from Nightfall.
Branchstripe hauled himself away from his attackers and scrambled toward Dawnclan’s side of the gorge, bleeding heavily. Brownleaf and Pinkstar hared after him, hissing. Pinkstar caught up first, pouncing on the retreating tom like a hunter on a rabbit. But before her claws reached his heaving fur, she was barrelled over and pinned by a grey-black tabby with white paws. Wasting no time, she scored her claws down Pinkstar’s flank, grey eyes slitted in fury. “Attacking a retreating warrior! Coward!” Screechclaw seethed, and buried her teeth into the Duskclan leader’s shoulder. Pinkstar didn’t waste her breath on replying; instead she kicked out, trying to push her attacker away. Brownleaf darted for the chance to jump onto Screechclaw, but yelped as he was pulled back by Branchstripe’s teeth in his tail. The bleeding warrior was in bad shape, but he couldn’t leave his clanmates to these crow-hearts.
The battle tide was evening. Nightfall was finally back on her feet. She swiped at Gravelsong with wild abandon, her pain giving her lethal desperation. Gritpath was backing away from Hawkflower and Morningstar. Eveningsun had Cherrybark pinned to the ground and was biting everywhere he could reach. She shrieked, “I give up!” and he released her.
“No! You do not give up!” Pinkstar yowled angrily, locked in battle with Screechclaw.
“There are so many of them!” Rustpelt yowled back from the other side of the battle, but Pinkstar couldn’t hear her deputy. Rustpelt had deposited her mate a few fox-lengths away from the fight, and doubled back. Sunpaw drove his powerful hindpaws into Twirlingpaw’s chest and drove the air from her lungs, so Rustpelt darted in and took her place as the Duskclan apprentice gasped for breath.
Nearby, Willowpaw sent Silkpaw fleeing from the fight and rounded back on Nightfall. With a screech of frustration at once again being surrounded, Nightfall crouched, gripped the wood beneath her with her claws, and kicked him with all the strength in her hindquarters. He was sent sprawling, winded- and slithered straight off the edge of the bridge.
Gritpath cried out in horror as Willowpaw lashed out a paw to catch himself. His claws caught the wood. They barely left a scratch.
Gravelsong let go of Nightfall and jumped to the edge, peering down, aghast. Willowpaw fell, shrieking, paws churning, and disappeared under the churning black water.
Twirlingpaw stood up, staring at the point her brother had fallen. Sunpaw and Rustpelt broke apart. As Twirlingpaw sunk into a crouch and began to yowl, some of the fighting cats began to break apart.
Morningstar signalled to Hawkflower to let Gritpath go, and the grey warrior skidded to a halt at the ledge. “NO!” she howled. “Willowpaw!”
Further away, Brownleaf stopped circling the wounded Branchstripe, who took the chance to run away. Next to him, Pinkstar and Screechclaw were still fighting furiously.
Panting with exhaustion, Nightfall stumbled away from the edge. Gritpath and Gravelsong swivelled to look at her. “I- I didn’t mean to.” she managed.
“You should never have attacked us!” Morningstar yowled. She ran and pulled Proudheart away from Laurelfrost and demanded,“that is enough!”
At her command, Eveningsun released Cherrybark, but Marblestone could not extract herself from Venompool. The cream tom was not ready to give up.
“Pinkstar! Call off your warriors!” Morningstar yowled. Pinkstar had not stopped fighting. Brownleaf had joined in the fray, pulling Screechclaw off his leader. She struggled valiantly and Pinkstar used the reprieve to scan the battlefield. She heard Twirlingpaw’s mournful yowl and bared her teeth. “A kill for a kill!”
“NO!” Rustpelt yowled. “Morningstar is right! This battle is pointless! We need to retreat!”
Pinkstar pinned her deputy with a filthy look. “Venompool, you know what to do.”
At once, Venompool started to shove Marblestone violently toward the edge. With a yowl of outrage, Laurelfrost threw herself at him.
Battle cries rang out once more as Dawnclan cats sprang to their clanmate’s defence while Duskclan cats blocked the Dawnclan cats from reaching Marblestone, Laurelfrost and Venompool. But not every Duskclan cat was following their leader. Cherrybark was on her last legs, her pelt clumped with blood. She hesitated to join the fray, then turned and bolted.
Nightfall was screeching and pushing at Gritpath, who refused to let her pass. “That’s my mother!” she cried.
“That was my apprentice!” Gritpath countered in fury.
Twirlingpaw slowly tore her eyes from the distant river and looked hollow eyed at the scene before her. Venompool was resolute in carrying out Pinkstar’s command. Marblestone was fighting against his grip but losing ground. Laurelfrost clung to Venompool like a burr, but Proudheart was trying to pull her off at the same time.
“Stop,” Twirlingpaw croaked. She stared at the messy fight in horror. Pinkstar was still busy ripping into Screechclaw. The apprentice looked at Rustpelt desperately. “I don’t want anyone else to fall!”
The Duskclan deputy took a deep breath. This had to end, no matter what her leader thought. Bunching her muscles, she sprang over the fight that was happening precariously close to the edge and landed on the wood atop the metal railing, surveying the cats below her. The terrifying drop was a mouse-whisker from her paws. “Stop!” Rustpelt yowled.
The full moon that hung in the sky behind her cast Rustpelt’s shadow over the struggling mass of cats, causing them to finally spring apart. Proudheart let go of Laurelfrost, who hauled both Venompool and Marblestone away from the precipice. Marblestone wrenched free and backed away from Venompool. The creamy white tom spat out a mouthful of her fur, his green eyes glaring coldly.
The only cats still fighting were Screechclaw, Brownleaf, and Pinkstar. The she-cats whirled around each other, evenly matched in skill, but Brownleaf was nipping at Screechclaw whenever he could, spoiling her fight.
“Screechclaw!” Morningstar hissed. But Screechclaw wasn’t listening. Their fight was moving closer to the edge of the bridge. The railings were far too far apart to stop any cat flying straight over the edge. Morningstar, Rustpelt and Eveningsun charged over to them. Eveningsun buffeted Brownleaf out of the way with a growl.
“Pinkstar, stop! You’re going to fall!” cried Rustpelt.
Screechclaw and Pinkstar sprang apart, sides heaving.
“What do you get out of deliberately disobeying me, Rustpelt?” Pinkstar spat.
“We don’t need to kill to win our battles,” Rustpelt answered, refusing to be intimidated.
“They did,” Pinkstar replied. “Willowpaw is dead, is he not?”
“That was a mistake,” Eveningsun insisted.
“You started a battle on a bridge. A cat fell off. This whole night was a terrible mistake,” Morningstar mewed.
Gritpath growled at Nightfall again.
Pinkstar straightened up, ignoring the blood dripping down her sides. “A Duskclan cat fell off. Naturally, Starclan decrees that a Dawnclan cat should pay the same price. It is only fair.”
“Starclan?” Morningstar echoed. They even called their ancestors by the same name! “Starclan would never teach that! Listen to your warrior, Pinkstar. Enough is enough. Leave.”
Pinkstar glared malevolently at Morningstar. She swept her gaze over her warriors, who shifted nervously. They had failed to follow her orders by ceasing their attack. Cherrybark, Boulderfoot and Heronstep had all retreated. Willowpaw was dead. Only Silkpaw and Branchstripe of Dawnclan had left the fight. Pinkstar shared a look with Venompool. “Fine. Duskclan, we are going home.” She stalked away, her warriors moving to her side. Duskclan hissed at Dawnclan as they fled back to the undergrowth on their side of the bridge. Rustpelt skirted away from her leader and ran ahead.
“Stay on guard,” Morningstar warned her clanmates. “They like to fake surrender. Come away from the edges.”
Venompool paused in his retreat, fixing her with a piercing, pale green stare. Then he flexed his claws. “Damnit. You got me,” he mewed, and padded away.
Morningstar finally tore her eyes from Duskclan when the sound of their pawsteps had faded to nothing. Then she could address her clanmates.
Nightfall groaned in pain and sank into a crouch. She had been clawed hard by the Duskclan warriors. Marblestone began checking her over worredly. Ravenprance offered to steady the black she-cat on the way back to camp.
Morningstar sent Sunpaw to warn the medicine cats, and ordered Hawkflower and Eveningsun, the least injured, to keep up the rear. She was paranoid that the Duskclan cats would attack from behind despite their defeat. What kind of Clan were they? Employing petty tricks, attacking retreating cats, not letting them escape- then actively trying to throw Marblestone to her death? Morningstar could not take any chances.
As the last of the group stepped off the bridge and onto their cliff edge, Eveningsun stopped and looked back, thoughtful. Morningstar paused. “What is it? Are they back?” she asked her brother.
Eveningsun shook his head. “Someday soon, they’re going to try and cross again. We might as well…” he padded over to the start of the bridge, sniffing a railing. Then he turned and sprayed it with his scent. “There. As clear a message as we can get. This is Dawnclan territory.”
Morningstar nodded. She and Hawkflower left their own mark on the bridge.
“It won’t stop them,” Hawkflower mewed.
“No,” Morningstar agreed. “That will be up to us. But as I said before, there is no doubt in my mind that we will succeed.”