Chapter Three- Part One

Thunder crackled, shaking the WindClan camp with its noise. Lightning flashed, lighting up the darkened sky.

Acornkit was curled up in a mossy nest, his tail tucked tightly over his muzzle. He simply looked like a ball of brown fur.

He shivered. Rain that splattered down onto the ground outside the den seemed to get inside too, soaking his pelt quickly.

Outside, the battle was finishing up. The ThunderClan leader, Lightningstar, was growling to WindClan’s leader, Hazelstar.

“Happy you’re defeated, swift-footed coward?” the tree-climber asked with a smirk.

Hazelstar stood and puffed out his chest. “Hope your apprentices are at least six moons old, Lightningstar.” he replied without answering the tom’s question.

Lightningstar’s large yellow eyes flashed. “Fine, we’ll leave. But just because you contributed to the fifth rule of the warrior code doesn’t mean ThunderClan won’t.” Then the black-and-white tom turned to leave the camp, the long pink scar on his side flashing in the moonlight.

Yowls of agreement rose behind his proclaim.

“Whatever!” Hazelstar yowled. “Just stay out of our territory!”

When ThunderClan was completely cleared out of the WindClan camp, Hazelstar turned to his deputy, Feathertickle, and sighed. “I need heavy patrols along the ThunderClan border now. Right away,” he added sharply.

Feathertickle nodded and darted off to organize the patrols with healthy warriors.

Twigfall, the medicine cat, ears flattened from the rain that pelted down, trudged around the camp, shuffling his paws in the mud. “Any that are injured, please come to me!” he called several times.

With this Acornkit woke up and dragged himself into a sitting position. He yawned loudly as an apprentice, Pebblepaw limped into the medicine den. His back feet were slashed badly, and he was practically using only his front paws to walk.

Swiftsprint followed him in, black fur stained with glinting blood.

Acornkit stepped back a few paces to let in all of the wounded warriors and apprentices. He winced; some of scratches and cuts looked bad.

Twigfall pushed himself in with the last bunch. “Stand in line. Those that have the worst wounds at the front,” he ordered.

Quailflight’s long fur was clumped with sticky scarlet blood.

“I’m one of the most horrible,” she said, making her way to Twigfall. “No she-cat needs messy fur. May I use your pool please?”

Twigfall glared at her. “Is it really necessary? Do you have any deep injuries? Or are there puddles outside?”