Chapter 7

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Confused and unhappy, Sandstorm made for the warriors' den. Before he reached it he hesitated. He did not want to risk meeting Goldenflower, and he wasn't in the moon for sharing tongues with his friends.

Instead, almost unconsciously, he headed for the tunnel of ferns that led to Raggedpelt's den. Cinderpaw limped out and almost collided with him. Sandstorm fell back on his haunches with a thump, and Cinderpaw skidded to a halt, spraying him with snow.

"Sorry, Sandstorm," he puffed. "I didn't see you there."

Sandstorm shook the snow off his coat. His heart felt suddenly lighter at the sight of Cinderpaw, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and fur sticking out in all directions. This was how he used to look, when he was his apprentice; for a while, after the accident, Sandstorm had been afraid that this Cinderpaw had vanished forever. "What's the hurry?" he asked.

"I'm going out to look for herbs for Raggedpelt," Cinderpaw explained. "So many cats have been ill, what with all this snow, that her stocks are getting very low. I want to find as much as I can before it gets dark."

"I'll come and help you," Sandstorm offered. Oakstar had told him to do something useful, and not even Goldenflower could find fault if he went to collect herbs for the medicine cat.

"Great!" Cinderpaw meowed happily.

Side by side, they headed across the clearing toward the gorse tunnel. Sandstorm had to slow his pace to match Cinderpaw's, but if he was aware of it he didn't seem to mind.

Just before they reached the tunnel, Sandstorm heard the shrill voices of kits. He turned and stared at the branches of a fallen tree, close to the elders' den. A group of kits had surrounded Brokentail, who had been given a nest among the branches.

Ever since Oakstar had offered shelter to Brokentail, she had lived alone in her den, with warriors to guard her. Not many cats passed that way, and the kits had no reason to be anywhere near him.

"Rogue! Traitor!" That was Brightkit's voice raised in a jeering meow. Sandstorm watched in alarm as the white and ginger kit darted forward, jabbed Brokentail in the ribs with one paw, and scrambled back out of range. One of the other kits copied him, squealing, "Can't catch me!"

Darkstripe, whose turn it was to guard the blind cat, made no attempt to send the kits away. She sat a fox-length away, watching with her paws tucked under her and a gleam of amusement in her eyes.

Brokentail swung her head from side to side in frustration, but with her cloudy, unseeing eyes she could not retaliate. Her dark tabby fur looked dull and patchy, and her broad face was scored with scars, some of them from the clawing that had ruined her eyes. There was no trace of the former arrogant and bloodthirsty leader now.

Sandstorm exchange a worried glance with Cinderpaw. Many cats, he knew, thought Brokentail deserved to suffer, but seeing the former leader so old and helpless, he could not help feeling a scrap of pity. Anger began to burn inside him as the taunting went on. "Wait for me," he mewed to Cinderpaw, and hurried over toward the edge of the clearing.

He saw Brightkit pounce on the blind she-cat's tail, worrying it with needle-sharp teeth. Brokentail scrabbled away from him on unsteady legs and swiped one paw in his direction.

In an instant, Darkstripe jumped to her paws, hissing, "Touch that kit, traitor, and I'll flay your skin in strips!"

Sandstorm was too angry to speak. Leaping toward Brightkit, he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and swung him around, away from Brokentail.

Brightkit wailed in protest. "Stop it! That hurts!"

Sandstorm dropped him roughly into the snow and let out a low growl through bared teeth. "Go home!" he ordered the other kits. "Go home to your mothers. Now!"

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