Erin Hunter - Twilight

While her attention was distracted, the fox snapped at her, and this time its teeth met in her shoulder. Squirrelflight yowled with pain and tore at the fox’s muzzle with her claws.

She heard Ashfur’s voice calling weakly, “Squirrelflight, run!”

But the fox wouldn’t let go. Angry and terrified, Squirrelflight fought harder.

The fox gave her a shake that rattled her teeth.

Squirrelflight hung limply in its grip, feeling her strength ebbing away. A black wave was rising behind her eyes, threatening to drown her, when she heard a loud yowling close by.

Abruptly the fox’s jaws opened and let her drop. For a few heartbeats she lay half conscious among the leaves, aware of furious snarls somewhere above her head.

Gasping for breath, she staggered to her paws. The forest swirled around her; when her vision cleared she saw Brambleclaw, his tabby fur fluffed out with rage so that he looked twice his normal size. He was driving the fox back into the trees with slashing claws and bared fangs; Ashfur fought alongside him, looking shaky but determined. Squirrelflight stumbled over to join them, letting out a yowl of defiance. At the sight of a third attacker, the fox backed off rapidly, then turned and vanished into the undergrowth. For a moment they heard rustling as it crashed through the ferns, then silence.

“Thanks, Brambleclaw,” Ashfur gasped. “How did you know we were in trouble?”

“I heard you,” Brambleclaw replied. His voice was tight with anger. “Great StarClan, what did you think you were doing out here? You know we haven’t explored this part of the territory properly yet. Surely finding that badger should have made you more careful?”

Squirrelflight was almost speechless with fury. Why did it have to be Brambleclaw who had come along to help? What made it worse was that he was right; she shouldn’t have gone tearing through the forest in a temper without looking where she was going. But he didn’t have to be so obnoxious about it.

“What is your problem?” she spat. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you!”

“We thought we’d hunt,” Ashfur explained, brushing his tail across Squirrelflight’s mouth before she could say anything else. “I’m sorry we came farther than we meant to.”

Brambleclaw’s gaze raked over him, fury still burning in his amber eyes.

“It’s a good thing we came across that fox,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “The Clan needs to know about it.”

“And how much would the Clan have known if the pair of you were killed?” Brambleclaw growled. “For StarClan’s sake, have a bit more sense next time.”

He stepped forward to sniff the wound in Ashfur’s neck.

To Squirrelflight’s relief it had almost stopped bleeding; it looked deep, but not the kind of wound that would kill.

“You’d better get back to camp and let Cinderpelt have a look at that,” he advised. “You too, Squirrelflight. You have some pretty bad scratches there.”

Squirrelflight twisted her head to see along her flanks and over her shoulders. Several clumps of fur were missing, and blood trickled out in sticky red streams where the fox’s teeth had sunk into her flesh. The bitemarks stung fiercely, and every muscle throbbed. Squirrelflight longed to creep back to camp for a pawful of soothing herbs and her soft nest under the thorn bush. But they couldn’t let the fox go without trying to find its den.

“Shouldn’t we follow the scent trail and see if the fox has a den close by?” she suggested. Her voice was cold, hiding the anger that burned inside her. “There’s no use going to Firestar with half a story.”

“Good idea,” Ashfur agreed. “That fox looked thin and desperate, as if it’s competing for food with stronger foxes.

That makes it dangerous. If it lives in our territory, we need to work out how to get rid of it.”

Brambleclaw hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, we’ll follow for a while, at least.”

He led the way to the thicket where the fox had disappeared. The reek of its scent was still strong.

“What a stink!” Ashfur snarled.

Brambleclaw took the lead as the three cats followed the trail through the undergrowth. Before long it crossed the old, overgrown Twoleg path that led back to the stone hollow and continued into the woods on the other side. As the trees thinned out and gave way to moorland, Squirrelflight realized it was becoming mingled with the scent of cats. Not far off she could hear the gurgling of a stream.

Brambleclaw halted. “This is the WindClan border,” he announced.

“If the fox has crossed into their territory, it’s not our problem anymore,” meowed Ashfur.

“Don’t be too sure of that.” Brambleclaw glanced from side to side. “Let’s just check if we can see its den.”

“Its den must be in WindClan territory, mousebrain,” Squirrelflight muttered, but she helped in the search, padding along the border for several foxlengths in each direction before heading farther back into the trees.

When the three cats joined each other again at the border, none of them had found the den.

“It looks as if the fox crossed the border. WindClan can deal with it now,” Squirrelflight mewed.

“I’m not sure Firestar will see it that way,” Brambleclaw warned. “He might want to warn Onestar.”

Squirrelflight knew he could be right. The awkward meeting with the WindClan patrol a few days before hadn’t seemed to change her father’s faith in his friendship with Onestar. And a true friend wouldn’t keep news of the fox to himself. Besides, even if the fox crossed the border, ThunderClan cats were still in danger.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s get back to camp and tell Firestar about it.”

Squirrelflight lay near the entrance to Cinderpelt’s den, gritting her teeth while Leafpool dabbed chewed-up marigold leaves onto her scratches. Nearby, Cinderpelt was applying cobwebs to the wound in Ashfur’s neck. He flinched, and Squirrelflight gave him a sympathetic glance.

“That should be fine,” the medicine cat told him. “Take it easy for the next couple of days, though. And make sure you let one of us check the wounds every day, to make sure they’re not infected.”

“You say the fox went across the WindClan border?”

Leafpool asked her sister.

She looked worried. Squirrelflight couldn’t imagine why Leafpool should be bothered about a fox in WindClan’s territory. It would be much more worrying if it lived on the ThunderClan side of the border.

“That’s right,” she mewed, wincing as marigold juice seeped into the puncture wounds where the fox’s teeth had pierced her fur.

“You didn’t see any WindClan cats, did you?” Leafpool went on. Squirrelflight began to pick up embarrassment from her, and some deep, churning feeling she couldn’t identify.

“Like—like Crowfeather, for instance?”

“No. If we’d seen any WindClan cats we would have told them about the fox, mousebrain. We wouldn’t have to think about visiting them again.” Brambleclaw was with Firestar right now, describing what had happened, and Squirrelflight was fairly sure what her father’s reaction would be. “Anyway, what made you think of Crowfeather?”

Leafpool was taking a long time to sort through the heap of marigold leaves. “Oh, no reason,” she mewed. “I just know he’s a friend of yours, from when you went to the sun-drown-place.”

“I don’t know about a friend ,” Squirrelflight remarked. “I don’t think Crowfeather is capable of getting close to another cat—especially now that Feathertail’s dead. He really loved her. He must miss her so much.”

“I expect he does,” Leafpool replied. She sounded as if something was choking her, and Squirrelflight looked at her in concern, but she had bent down to chew up another leaf.