[Trigger warning: graphic violence]

The grass hissed underneath the paws of four shapes as they wove into a careful formation, fur prickled and eyes narrowed against the rising sun. Seedscatter himself felt that his pelt was heavier today than it had been yesterday, as if something about the drought was slowly dragging him down into the dry soil beneath his paws. Here and now, there was a different problem to be dealt with, and Seedscatter needed to evict all thoughts of his dreams from his mind. 

"The rogues have set up a camp just inside the northwest border. Our scouts brought back this information just two days ago, so we aren't sure how long they've been there." That was Yellowfeather, always one for theatrics. The glint in Owltail's eyes suggested that she had been going on about it for awhile. 

Owltail whispered something in her mate's ear, and Yellowfeather nodded. "Yes, Harestar has also made sure to tell me that we are not to attack unless provoked," she meowed, carefully eyeing the deputy and his former apprentice. Beetlefang pretended to be offended, earning a scoff from Seedscatter. 

Though they were charged with silence that day, the four cats couldn't help but laugh with each other in that moment. There was a lightness to this patrol, one that couldn't be found back at camp.

But in their clan-mates' defense, they had all had a lot on their minds in the past moon, what with the drought, and the famine, and the inevitability of death to think about. 

Seedscatter had been forced into a lot lately, both self-induced and inflicted by his leader. For one, he had put it upon himself to watch over the clan's only kits. That task doubled as getting closer to Silkkit. If it was even possible, he would sway her in favor of FieldClan, and had been teaching her about the dangers of spiders ever since. 

This patrol was one of many that he had stuck himself onto in the desperate hope that something good would come out of at least one. But so far, nothing interesting had been encountered besides the crow that Stoneclaw had caught on their last hunt together.

It was a jarring cuff over the ears that snapped him out of his thoughts, and in an instant the rogues were on them. They had melted out of the shrubbery as if they had been born of pure shadow. It seemed as if dozens of cats had materialized, all hissing and spitting and pouncing on his outnumbered companions. Their scents had been disguised effortlessly, as if they had been rolling around in the dust for moons. Seedscatter had no time to think. No luxuries were offered up by the enemy that day.

The cat that had hit him didn't even spare a triumphant smile, though he was obviously proud of himself. One of his friends crowed a quick congratulations and was instantly bowled over by Beetlefang. True to his name, the lithe black cat was a storm of fury as he fought his opponent.

Head still ringing with static from the blow, Seedscatter leaped at the cat, outstretched claws reaching for scruffy, red fur. He was given just enough time to claw the rogue over the nose before he had to rear back, matching curse for curse. His eyes were cold as he watched the ragged creature before him.

The red tom glared back at Seedscatter with malice in his eyes. Scarlet blood dripped from a deep slice on his nose, and his ears sat flat against his skull. A snarl leaped unbidden from Seedscatter's muzzle. 

It was only a matter of seconds before the rogue surged into the air, paws outstretched and ready to assault the cat below him. But Seedscatter dashed nimbly under his opponent, unbalancing the tom and flying back to shove him into the dust. Every courtesy was unlearned in a heartbeat, a heartbeat that bled wild instinct through every tuft of fur in his body.

But with his shoulder buried in the red cat's stomach, Seedscatter had left himself open. He yelped when teeth met his ear, biting down hard at the sensitive skin. He clawed frantically at his opponent's belly, but a warning growl sounded in the rogue's chest. He could do much more damage in his position than Seedscatter could hope to manage. 

He was held in that spot, fear scent on his ragged breaths, for only a short, excruciating time before he was shoved away, half scrambling and half tumbling a good distance before spinning around. But the red tom's focus had left him, and he was deemed unimportant in only a pawful of seconds. He followed the rogue's gaze and felt an exultant crow bubble in his throat.

Yellowfeather had pinned a dark grey tom to the ground. Both cats were panting, and the tom was spitting hateful words in the clan cat's face. She took it all with dignity, staring down sweetly to balance out the claws that she dug into his chest.

It was then that another cat strode into the clearing, and Seedscatter let out a sharp breath. "Let him go, and we might just let you live," meowed a coy, calico she-cat. Her eyes gleamed like two yellow fires, even in the harsh light of day. Yellowfeather's hold only tightened.

This seemed to strike a nerve in the calico. This time, the lilt to her voice was gone. "Let him go."

"Oh yeah?" Yellowfang responded shortly. Her captive sucked in a deep breath, and blots of bright red sprang to his wounds, darkening the grey fur on his chest.

Seedscatter felt a stab of fear as the calico paced forward. Memories from his kit-hood flooded his mind. Two she-cats; furious shouting; insults shot from one side of camp to the next; tails lashing as one stayed and the other disappeared into the grasses. 

"Yeah." Her whisper was dangerous, so much harsher than the shouts that struck the deputy from all directions. And though Yellowfeather would have been too young to even remember her leader's apprenticeship, he couldn't mistake the stab of fear in the golden tabby. 

The calico must have noticed it too, because confidence flooded her posture. Yellowfeather loosened her claws, sheathing them with a look of dread. Blood had started to flow freely from a wound next to her eye, and her breaths were ragged and inconsistent. She set her shoulders back, looking down on the she-cat with defiance clearly written across her features. No matter what the circumstance was, she was not going to hang her head to this enemy.

That's when she leaped at the calico's throat.

Audible gasps murmured through the crowd and shocked yowls sprinkled the clearing. There may not have been many manners in this group of rogues, but they seemed to have rules. They respected status, at least. Not a hair on cat's pelt moved as Yellowfeather was easily pitched onto her back, and not a single whisker twitched as a blood-stained paw was pushed forcefully onto her chest.

"This is your chance to leave," the grey tom rasped out, finally able to bring himself into a standing position and shaking out his pelt.

"Never," Owltail hissed from the choke-hold she was caught in, ignoring the gaping wound on her shoulder. Beetlefang nodded his assent, too busy restraining his own opponent to do or say much.

"Shame." With a flash of white, the calico sank her teeth into Yellowfeather's throat, ignoring the yowl that came from Seedscatter, and the cry that knocked Owltail free from her assailant. She smiled into the killing bite as Beetlefang barked out a strangled threat.

When she looked up, her eyes were alight with a wild blaze, a forest fire intent on taking and feeding on everything in its path. It was manifested in one sharp cackle that she choked out through the blood that gurgled from her muzzle.

"Get out."

And they did. What could they have done in the face of a creature like that? Though they had dealt with rogues before, they had never truly encountered someone like her.

For no FieldClan cat had ever been forced to defeat one of their own.