Pooling Blood (Shadows of Revenge Book 3)

Chapter 1

The battle at the Three Stones drew to an end by dawn. Warriors on both sides were exhausted and decided to retreat to their camps. Willetstar still felt light-headed. It took him a lot longer to wake up. The desperate cries of the spirits chilled his bones. Was that even real? Surely StarClan wouldn't have blocked them out, right? Still dazed, the dark gray tom stumbled back to camp.

The dark gray tom felt a heaviness in his chest. The idea that StarClan might have withdrawn, blocking out the warriors' desperate pleas, troubled him. The connection with their ancestors had always been a guiding force, a source of strength. The uncertainty left him with a nagging unease, a question mark hanging over the very fabric of their beliefs.

The crisp beginning-of-leafbare air nips at the tom's nose. No snow had fallen yet, but the frost clung to the tips of the tree branches. As Willetstar wobbled about, he found himself in a familiar spot, littered with water hyacinths. Though most of them had died for the season, some remained. The pale purple petals brought Willetstar's mind back to his younger days.

 Willetwing let his chest puff out with pride as he trotted alongside the rest of the patrol. The day before the gray tom had finally earned his warrior name. This was his first patrol as a warrior. "Loosen up, you look like you have sticks for legs," Birchhowl teased. The two new warriors giggled, loosening up. 

The greenleaf sun beamed on the patrol as they entered the water hyacinth field. The patrol had halted, but Willetwing's attention had been turned toward the beautiful flowers, his gaze growing in awe. He quickly snapped out of his trance when he crashed into another cat. The cat's deep black fur spiked briefly, then the other warrior turned around. "Oh! Sorry, Frondnose," Willetwing shyly mewed, his ears heating up in embarrassment.

"It's okay, it's your first patrol," The young tom softly mewed. There was always an aura of mystery around him, as if he wasn't even sure of himself.

With a sudden rush of bold curiosity, Willetwing mewed, "What was your first patrol as a warrior like?"

"Not too different from any other patrol," Frondnose shrugged, though his voice was still sweet. He had only become a warrior a few moons prior. "Except mine was a hunting patrol, instead of a border patrol like this one,"

Willetwing's curiosity deepened. "What did you hunt? Catch anything interesting?"

Frondnose's gaze wandered to the field of water hyacinths. "We caught a few frogs, but what fascinated me were the butterflies. I think we had stumbled into some kind of hive, because they were everywhere!"

Willetwing smiled at the poetic description. "That sounds amazing. I've always loved the colors of their wings,"

"Come on, you two! You're gonna fall behind," Ambernose called to the two from ahead, flicking her tail. 

"Sorry!" Willetwing mewed back. "I guess we could keep talking once we get back to camp?" The young tom suggested.

"Sounds great. I saw a nice juicy water vole on the fresh-kill pile. We could share it if you'd like," Frondnose replied with a purr.

Willetstar shook his head, attempting to clear the lingering memories as he made his way to the leader's den. The journey through the water hyacinth field, once a carefree exploration, now felt like a lifetime ago. Willetstar couldn't escape the irony of how swiftly their lives had shifted from moments of shared laughter to the somber realities of battle and loss. The chill of the leafbare air had intensified, and he couldn't ignore the fatigue that seeped into his bones. The recent battle at the Three Stones had taken its toll on both his body and spirit.

Upon entering his den, he settled into his nest, the cold moss beneath him providing a sharp contrast to the warmth he sought. As he closed his eyes, the events of the battle replayed in his mind. The clash of warriors, the unsheathing of claws, and the desperate cries of the spirits haunted him. He couldn't shake the feeling that StarClan's presence had been elusive, leaving a cold void in his heart.