Chapter 17 - The Attack
“Fallenwings! Go hunt with Echonight.” Moonflame yowled in his direction.
Inwardly groaning, he glanced at Echonight. They were sharing a slightly scrawny thrush, so of course she heard. He couldn’t ignore Moonflame as he wished he could. I must hunt and fight and take care of my clan. But what could I do without them? What would I have? Fallenwings wondered. I may soon know…
As he padded out of camp with Echonight, he pondered on this. Where would
he be without FallenClan? Fallenwings supposed he would be anywhere with his family. With Silversong and Echonight, Willowmoon and Darkvalley, Blossompaw and Mintpaw, and everyone else he, and they, wanted. Would it be so bad?
“Rabbit!” Echonight whisper-yelled, dragging him out of his wondering.
There wasn't much big prey anymore, the rogues had stolen so much, so a rabbit was rare.
“Good.” Fallenwings hissed, spotting the juicy rabbit as it hopped through the forest. His mouth watered.
Echonight quickly glanced at him to say let's catch it before lowering her body into a crouch. She stalked forward until she saw the rabbit notice her, Fallenwings joining her at her side.
The rabbit’s ears stood up and it scanned the area. Upon seeing Fallenwings’ light pelt, it ran.
Echonight bolted after it, and seeing as there was no reason to be silent anymore, she called “I'll chase it to you!” before disappearing into the undergrowth.
Fallenwings waited for a couple seconds. He looked around, and deduced Echonight was running towards camp. Scenting the air, he noticed a cat-scent. Echonights almost here! He got ready for a rabbit, but instead a wave of rogue stink washed over him from behind. He turned around slowly. About forty rogues were emerging from the shadows, some from the trees, some stalking through the plants on the ground. Just like they did when he first saw them. Even that one pitch black tom, Dark, at the front just the same. But something was different, he could sense it.They’re invading! Fallenwings realized. And what could he do but run? So he ran. He ran through the forest, ferns and bracken whipping at his face, rogues probably on his tail. Fallenwings didn’t want to know if this was true. He thought of his family, his clan, and everything he would miss if they lost the attack as he pelted away from the crowd of cats and toward the things he would miss. He spotted Echonight after just a minute of running and opened his mouth to speak.
“Fallenwings!” Echonight called, curiosity in her meow. She probably smelled his thick fear scent, and the many other rogue scents nearby.
“RUN!” he shrieked in return. “RUN TO CAMP! ROGUES!”
She did so, running next to him, in long, strong strides.
He knew they shouldn’t lead them to camp, but all he could think of was his daughters, his father, and everyone he knew. The rogues would find the camp anyway. He wanted to be alive to help the clan. Energy flowed through Fallenwings, giving him speed. They were almost to camp, so he glanced back behind him. He wished he hadn’t immediately. The rogues were gaining on them. Suddenly the camp entrance was in sight.
“THE ROGUES ARE ATTACKING!” Fallenwings screamed into the gorge as he and Echonight pelted down the stone entrance. The words echoed through the clan’s camp as Echonight repeated them. They had reached the bottom, and the clan was all readying. Cats ran about. He saw Willowmoon and Pinknose in the nursery, Gingerstorm and Moonflame outside it. He glimpsed Irissun and Midnightpelt, Rabbitfoot dutifully guarding them in front of the main den.
Everyone rushed to their planned positions as the rogues streamed down the entrance. They wove among the cats, and began attacking. A pure white tom was clawing at Echonight, and a salmon colored cat was pouncing on Silentstar. Gingerstorm had his hands full with two identical yellow-white she-cats. Moonflame was busy with two other rogues driving him away from Gingerstorm and the queens, one rogue white and red, one amber and ginger. Fallenwings lunged towards the nursery to help but was stopped by a white and yellow tom bolting towards him, narrowing his yellow eyes. Fallenwings did the same, hissing, ears flattened. The tom stared at his shoulder, but luckily Fallenwings knew the trick. As the rogue pounced for the other shoulder, he twisted away, letting the tom fall to the ground with a sickening thud. Fallenwings hissed and bolted to Gingerstorm, dodging battling cats on the way.
Once he was there, Fallenwings pounced onto one of the attacking she-cat’s
backs, pinning her to the ground. She hissed and twisted her neck to bite him, letting her brownish eyes meet his. She couldn’t move far enough to bite him. He bared his teeth and sunk them into her shoulder, and bit as hard as he could. Blood drained into his mouth. The rogue shrieked in pain. He tore his teeth out, and clawed her ear to give her a scar she wouldn’t forget. The she-cat’s shriek doubled, twice as loud. That's what you get for attacking FallenClan! He thought as he leaped off of her, landing neatly next to Gingerstorm. The she-cat ran away, and her twin stopped attacking Gingerstorm and ran after the wounded rogue.
“Thanks.” Gingerstorm panted.
“Never a problem.” Fallenwings responded before spotting a battered, bleeding Silversong against three rogues. He bolted through the mess of the battle, knocking cats aside in his panic to get to his father. He let out a battle cry once he arrived, the shriek distracting the three rogues long enough for him to leap to his fathers side. Silversong collapsed. The rogues ran away, laughing. Fallenwings stared in terror at his fathers wounds, his clawed flanks, his shredded ears, and then, the slash on his neck. Silversong let out a moan as blood escaped from the numerice tears in his flesh.
“Silversong?” Fallenwings murmured, pressing against his father, tears streaming out of his eyes. He knew Silversong wouldn’t be okay ever again.
“I love you, take care of …” Silversong looked up at his son with as much love in his eyes as in his words, never finishing his sentence. He went limp.
Fallenwings sobbed, long and hard as he pressed harder against Silversong’s stiff side. He felt for some sign of life, but only felt cold, hard death. He breathed in his fathers scent for the last time. He's gone. My father is dead and we will never win this war. FallenClan is over and I can’t do a thing about it.