Beast of the Sea - WARRIOR CATS

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"How much further?"

I glanced over my shoulder at Littlepaw. The pale brown tabby was eyeing the swaying branches over our heads uneasily. I could scarcely see anything more than her petrified amber eyes in the gloom.

"Not much," I said under my breath, scanning the dark forest ahead of me.

There was scarcely any noise, as though all the prey had disappeared from the area, and the trees themselves were too scared to move. In spite of the silence, a foul scent clung thickly in the air.

"You can always go back, Littlepaw," I meowed gently. I padded towards a fallen sycamore. It seemed ancient and strong; there was no reason why it should have keeled over.

Then, I saw the burn marks etched across the stump. Dewstar's early experiments...I shivered as I stared up at the clouded night sky that I could see beyond the snaking tree branches. It was rare to see any light these days.

A wet nose bumped my shoulder. "Sorry!" Littlepaw squeaked. More determinedly, she added. "Ferretpaw, I chose to come with you on this mission because I want to help. I'm not turning back."

I nodded solemnly. Littlepaw was one of the bravest cats I knew, in spite of her small size.

For the past quarter moon, Wolfwhisper had been sending out spy parties in all directions. Each group, comprised of no more than three cats, always came back with news graver than the last.

Dewstar had taken control of all the clans, as well as several surrounding loners and the occasional rogue. All those who didn't immediately submit to her received a nasty shock; fire. She had gathered those most loyal to her and called them 'Ocean Masters.' Those cats had been sent out to rule over the four different 'OceanClan camps' she had set up, and had been given powers by her.

Cats that were kit and apprentice aged were torn from their families and brought to live in ShoreClan camp, which had been renamed OceanClan (in honour of Dewstar's warrior name, naturally).

"Isn't there a bit of a risk in...well...getting this close to ShoreClan camp?" Littlepaw glanced up at me. "Wolfwhisper told us to patrol the shallows, not get this near."

"They're all probably asleep," I meowed, trying to sound dismissive. "Besides, we have to see how Shadefang and the rest of ShoreClan is."

The jet-black tom had been one of the rebel movement's biggest supporters. He had always been there, and had helped me escape. I had to know whether he was healthy or...No. She couldn't...she wouldn't have...killed him, right?

"We can't," Littlepaw meowed stubbornly. "Ferretpaw, don't forget about the other times we walked too close to Dewstar."

"Hello."

I jumped at the sound of a soft, silky voice. Instantly, I unsheathed my claws, taking a step in front of Littlepaw, and lifting my chin defiantly. I looked for who had spoken, but no bushes were rustling.

"Back...away...slowly..." I meowed through gritted teeth.

"Oh Ferretpaw, you mousebrain," the silky voice rasped. "If I was Dewstar, you would most certainly be dead by now."

"Run home," I muttered under my breath to Littlepaw.

"There will certainly be no running," the voice drawled. "We must have a talk, Ferretpaw. Most think you are dead. And...perhaps things might be simpler if you were."

There was the shifting of ferns, and I whirled around just in time to see Strikeclaw pad out. Her fur was ruffled, and there was a strange scent I couldn't place on her, but there were no signs of injury on the she-cat. Of course not, I thought bitterly as the cream tabby sat down and ran a paw nonchalantly over her ear. She's Dewstar's deputy.