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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:37:07 GMT -5
Am I rewriting this? Maybe.There's a lot of stuff I wanted to do with the story that I ended up not doing. I might rewrite it to be closer to my original vision and better set up the POTENTIAL sequel (which has a title and vague concept but I will NOT make a final decision until after all of AVOS is out and even then that decision might be no).
I wrote this story in late 2015, and given that it's now mid-to-late 2017, that's long enough ago that I'm embarrassed by this writing. (This is not me saying "swarm me with compliments." If you've been writing for a while, you know what it feels like to look back at your old stuff and cringe.) Not sure if I could do better now, but if I get the motivation I guess I might as well try. Spoilers for books technically all the way up to The Last Hope, as well as mention in this post (not the story itself) of a scene in Tallstar’s Revenge. Some spoilers may not be distinguishable as actual spoilers, however, so if you’re willing to brave it, it can be read without too much danger starting after Long Shadows. Warning: This fanfiction contains character death (including kit death), blood, several battles, and occasional implications of suicide. In addition, a couple of characters make some violent threats. None of these are depicted visually. Note that it’s been a long time since I’ve had the time to write (and even longer since I’ve read Warriors, aside from a couple specific scenes in Sunset, Outcast, Eclipse, Long Shadows, and Sunrise that should all be evident in the writing), and this is the first and only draft of this fanfiction*, so please forgive the inevitable slip-ups and disjointed bits. (Planning Start Date: 10/22/15; Original Forum Post Date: 1/2/16)
Additionally: due to plot convenience, Goldenflower died in the badger battle, though she did not in canon, and I have shifted ages around since it’s hard to follow the Erins’ canon for the background characters (like seriously? Sunstrike came out of nowhere). I have not read anything published after The Sun Trail, so there will undoubtedly be inconsistencies there as well. Missing Kits is not taken into account either.
As for the tunneling issue: I am aware that Heatherstar ended it and that Heathertail claimed it was discontinued in the lake territories. However, this fanfiction operates under two assumptions. One, it was reinstated after Tallstar’s Revenge, because otherwise the elders would not have had any reason to search for tunnels at all. Two, Heathertail was lying; it would be difficult to miss a system as implicitly extensive as the one in the lake territories, and she would have wanted to keep some Clan secrets—remember that the other Clans don’t know of the tunnelers. The whole "where did the kits go" thing could be explained as WindClan simply not noticing the scent trail (since, you know, they kind of…didn't notice the scent trail). The fact that WindClan did not use the tunnels to invade before then could be as simple as that using the tunnels presents a danger to moor-runners, and they did not need to use the tunnels before the time they actually did. This wasn’t originally intended to be so long, but after I planned out each chapter, I realized it was almost as long as a six-book Warriors series. So it was supposed to be read entirely as one story, but it can also be read as six. That’s why there’s only one prologue and one epilogue. Art: The backgrounds of the chapter heading images are all taken from official Warriors artwork; everything else is drawn by me. Of note: I accidentally outlined over 170 chapters, and when cutting down the length (just a bit) I am afraid I cut out some content. So. There’s stuff missing. Whoops. No allegiances here, for reasons that will become apparent soon. I may eventually post a (very long) list of the cats in alphabetical order. Another important note: the beginning of the prologue is ripped directly from Sunset. That's why it switches from black to white; once it switches to white it's my own writing. Hollyfrost14 of StoneClanBack on wcf I was active on WFF around 2011 and early 2012, but I was never a major part of the WFF community. My old fanfictions were called Three United: Swiftpaw's Prophecy, Three United: Secrets of the Night, Sun and Shadows, Time, and Broken Glass. (I may revive and finish Time and repost Sun and Shadows here, but not yet.) I've technically been writing for a long time, but I don't have much to show for it: I have plenty of ideas but very little motivation. If you know me, it's probably from my comics, I Am Very Strangeness. Shameless self-promotion! I also have a short story on here called Atrocity. I spend a good amount of time drawing characters and sketching comics. There's not much else to say, really. I have some other stories in the works, two of which might become Warriors fanfictions. There is also a possibility that I will eventually write a sequel series to this, but no promises. I have very basic ideas for it, but that is quite different from writing a whole story. *Not enough for me to consider it a true revised draft, but I did make a few minor edits between posting it on wcf and posting it on wcrf. This was mostly to bring two particular chapters slightly closer to my initial conception of them, because I changed them somewhat to fit wcf rules. I also fixed the wording of a couple sentences that I happened to see were clumsy. If you find any egregious errors (especially remnants of html code from the wcf days), please feel free point out the mistake and the chapter in which it takes place!
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:37:17 GMT -5
 PROLOGUEBRAMBLECLAW Brambleclaw stared down at his Clan leader. He still couldn’t move. He knew that all he had to do was tighten the noose around Firestar’s neck, and he would lose his remaining six lives at once. His gaze met Firestar’s, where his leader lay helpless in front of him. But there was no pleading in the green eyes, only a fierce, proud question: What will you do, Brambleclaw? It’s your choice.
Brambleclaw thought of how Firestar and Tigerstar had confronted each other, time after time. Each hated the other for what they stood for, the plans they had for their Clan. But Firestar had never needed to fight Tigerstar to the death. Scourge, the vicious leader of BloodClan, whom Tigerstar himself had invited into the forest, had killed him with a single blow.
This time it looked as though Tigerstar would win. Brambleclaw was aware of his father’s spirit close beside him, urging him on. Fool! Kill him now!
Closing his eyes, Brambleclaw remembered the clearing at Fourtrees, the blood pouring out onto the grass as Tigerstar lost all nine lives at once. He saw Scourge looking down at his twitching body with cold triumph. Was that what Hawkfrost and Tigerstar wanted him to become?
“Six lives…” he murmured. Six lives stood between him and the leadership of ThunderClan.
“That’s right,” Hawkfrost hissed. “This is our chance to take revenge on Firestar for our father’s death. He could have tried to stop Scourge, but he just stood there and watched Tigerstar die, over and over and over.” All I want is to lead my Clan, thought Brambleclaw.
And here he is. The only cat in the forest who could ever stand in my way. Was this really what he wanted? Could Brambleclaw kill Firestar—anyone—like this, in cold blood?
“Hawkfrost,” he murmured, pained. “This isn’t about revenge.”
“Kill him now,” Hawkfrost ordered. “Kill him now, or we may never have another chance.”
Brambleclaw tensed, braced himself, and stepped toward Firestar. The leader attempted to meet his gaze, but he was weak now, too weak to lift his eyes. His tongue poked from his mouth, paler than it should have been, and his muscles had slackened.
“We shouldn’t do this.” Brambleclaw hated his own faltering voice. He was the senior warrior here; he needed Hawkfrost’s respect. Why do I need the respect of a RiverClan cat? he wondered briefly, but the thought was displaced by another: Why do I need Tigerstar’s respect?
The life had gone out of Firestar’s eyes, and Brambleclaw looked down at him, remembering again when his father had died. It was a pitiful sight: the leader was reduced to this still mass of fur, his glory all but nonexistent. Brambleclaw could feel Hawkfrost move closer. The RiverClan cat walked heavily, and his breath was hot on Brambleclaw’s pelt.
“This is all we have been waiting for,” Hawkfrost whispered. “No cat will ever know the difference, save for you and I.”
Brambleclaw took another step, avoiding the blood that had run from Firestar’s neck. Imaginary heat rolled over him as he bent down. Firestar shuddered and let out a gasp of pain; Brambleclaw recoiled, then stopped.
This was the cat who had nearly driven him from the Clan for the crime of looking like Tigerstar.
The snarl was still on Brambleclaw’s lips. Firestar stared back, almost emotionless—he was daring Brambleclaw to continue: What will you do? Anger surged through Brambleclaw, and defiantly he struck at the cord, pulling it tighter. He heard a terrible noise from Firestar—at the same moment he pulled, Firestar had tried to speak one last time, and it had come out as a tiny, sorrowful wail.
Still enraged, somewhat dazed, and put off by the sound, Brambleclaw lashed angrily at Firestar’s blood. He stumbled forward and found his forepaw on Firestar’s motionless ginger pelt. Brambleclaw felt like he was choking; he turned to face Hawkfrost, panting for air. He had never seen this look in another cat’s eye before—his half-brother’s blue eyes glittered icily, greedily, at the image of the dying leader. Brambleclaw looked down again: Firestar was alive, writhing in the noose, which was still around his neck—he looked away—This was not what I wanted—but Tigerstar was there, in his mind, telling him it was all right.
He stared off at the lake. The sunset tinted the water a deep orange-red to mirror Firestar’s final moments.
“I hear Leopardstar has been a bit ill,” Hawkfrost meowed. His voice was lower and rougher than usual; the RiverClan warrior was holding back glee. Brambleclaw nodded before understanding, then shook his head again, backing away from Firestar without another look. “What do you say, Bramblestar?”
Brambleclaw started. He had forgotten. “I—yes,” he managed. Speaking broke the numbness. He had done it. He was the ThunderClan leader. Dirty though killing Firestar may have been, it was all for the greater good, and there were still more Clans to take care of. “I guess it’s time to get my lives, isn’t it.”
Hawkfrost nodded, his gaze impossible to read. “Yes, I guess it is. Well done. But I should head home; it wouldn’t be a good idea to get myself caught out here.”
Brambleclaw and Hawkfrost padded away in opposite directions down the lakeshore. The ThunderClan cat waded ankles-deep into the lake, rubbing his paws in the sandy mud. The blood of the cat he had tried so hard to respect floated free from his forepaws, shockingly dark against the dull lakebed, shockingly bright against the murky water. Glancing over his shoulder Brambleclaw saw his brother slip into the lake and swim away. The blood trails, already diffusing into nothing, seemed almost to be tugged in Hawkfrost’s direction by the ripples his strong strokes caused.
Brambleclaw slogged through the water toward the Moonpool. He was worried now: his Clan would find Firestar’s body, and there was bound to be investigation. But what did they know? Birchpaw had said he was to meet Blackstar there, and no one but himself could distinguish Hawkfrost’s scent from any other RiverClan cat—except possibly Leafpool, who would certainly know Mothwing’s scent if she smelled it. And no one could know for certain that he had stepped on Firestar before the tom had died. I was investigating the murder, he told himself, like a deputy should. They will believe me. Leafpool—
And that was just it! Leafpool said StarClan told her he should be the new deputy. He knew better than to doubt Leafpool’s integrity, and StarClan was never wrong. StarClan itself sanctioned his—it wasn’t a murder, really, was it? not if StarClan approved?—of Firestar.
Now that the sun was gone the water was frigid, permeating his pelt and sloshing around his paws, but he had reached the stream that led to the Moonpool. The running water was crueler than the still lake water had been, but it brought back a nostalgic flow of memories of his time with Stormfur and Feathertail at the Tribe of Rushing Water. Like Feathertail, he would be a hero for two groups of cats. My family and my Clan.
Spurred on by his memories, and remembering just how cold the waterfall in front of the cave entrance had been, Brambleclaw barely felt the stream around his feet. When he had nearly reached the Moonpool he climbed out of the water and dried his paws on the grass.
His ceremony of nine lives seemed rather terse, but he supposed he had never really known what to expect, and it could have been anything. StarClan said nothing of Firestar’s death, although a small bunch of cats muttered amongst one another about his lack of a medicine cat and whether this was the right thing to do.
He received his lives from more familiar than unfamiliar cats. Whitestorm, whose death he had avenged long ago, gifted him compassion; Feathertail—seeing her struck him with a sudden pang of guilt, but she was gentle, if clearly upset—gave devotion. A small black kitten he had never seen with a gait mirroring Hawkfrost and Mothwing gave him loyalty. Goldenflower spoke almost ruefully of a mother’s love. A Tribe cat warily thanked him for helping save his family and gave him the power to look beyond himself. A tortoiseshell tom with a long, brilliant ginger tail gave him an extraordinarily painful life with what sounded like a warning about the power to change the future. Mudclaw, the former WindClan deputy, told him that sometimes a storm was just a storm and gave caution, saying wisdom outweighed a name. Bluestar and Firestar both appeared, granting clear judgment of character and the courage to make the most painful decisions. The gathered StarClan cats chanted his name less than enthusiastically—Mudclaw never broke eye contact.
Upon waking Bramblestar traveled cautiously to camp, flinching at every twig and leaf he stepped on in his exhaustion.
He was not welcomed quietly. |
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:37:30 GMT -5
 CHAPTER ONESQUIRRELFLIGHT “It’s him!” Rainwhisker yowled from near the camp entrance. “Brambleclaw is here!”
The huge tabby flinched. “Firestar is dead,” he meowed. Rainwhisker sniffed at him from a distance, frowning.
Squirrelflight stared at him. “Brambleclaw.” Her voice was hard. She hesitated, then approached him, lashing her tail. “Did you kill Firestar?” For once she spoke quietly; the words caught fast in her throat—had she been able, she would have shouted the words at the top of her lungs.
“No, it was—it was Blackstar, and some RiverClan cat, I don’t know what one.” Brambleclaw’s amber eyes met hers. She didn’t know what expression she was seeing there, but it scared her. He seemed conflicted—but differently from usual. Oh, Ashfur, how I hope you’re wrong.
“Ashfur showed us your scent,” Brackenfur asserted, staring down the larger warrior fearlessly. “He witnessed you, along with a RiverClan cat he also said he didn’t recognize, standing over Firestar in a fox trap. The scent trails verified this.”
“I didn’t,” Brambleclaw insisted wearily.
“I should have done more,” Ashfur moaned, trembling, ears flattened against his neck. “I should have stopped them. I should have tried—”
Squirrelflight tried to rest her tail on his shoulder, but stiff with anger and grief she only managed to drag it roughly across his leg. “You did all you could.” His blue eyes were still dark and glimmering with pain, so she added, “Losing you too would only have made it worse,” and he looked grateful, though his tail still drooped.
“I didn’t kill Firestar,” Brambleclaw snarled suddenly. “I didn’t kill him; it wasn’t me; I didn’t do it. I found him dead and I wasn’t going to track some cat halfway around the lake to see who did it. And besides, didn’t anyone smell Blackstar?”
“Blackstar’s scent was not there,” Brackenfur reported. “ShadowClan scent did not extend beyond the border, but Firestar was found in our territory. Your scent approached the lake and disappeared.”
“He was!” Brambleclaw hissed.
“We all know it was you,” Spiderleg burst out. “Quit pretending you’re anything more than what you are. You are a traitor, and that’s all.”
“I am the leader of this Clan,” the dark tabby meowed. “My name is Bramblestar. I have nine lives, granted by StarClan. You can ask them! Ask Firestar!” He swung his head to face Leafpool, who cowered frightened near the medicine den. Was it Squirrelflight’s imagination, or did Bramblestar’s ears twitch too much as he said it, and his body falter as he turned?
“You’re no leader of mine,” snapped Spiderleg.
“Your scent was found trailing blood into the lake,” Leafpool said. Squirrelflight could feel how much effort this was taking her sister. “Firestar’s blood got tracked into the lake.”
“So?” Bramblestar took a step back—a startlingly defensive posture for the courageous, bold cat Squirrelflight had known. Well, thought I had known, at least.
“Before there is peace,” Leafpool replied evenly, “blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red.” Bramblestar looked afraid and bewildered.
“That was you,” Squirrelflight interrupted. Leafpool wanted to disappear right now, and Squirrelflight would defend her sister to the last. “You’re Tigerstar’s blood. You spilled Firestar’s blood.”
Bramblestar spat out a few sounds, unable to form words. “None of this makes any sense,” he eventually choked. “StarClan chose me.”
Spiderleg shook his head while Ashfur drew closer to Squirrelflight. The black-and-brown cat spoke again, his voice ringing loudly through the hollow: “How many of us can truly say we never doubted Leafpool’s ‘sign?’ How many of us will follow you to our deaths? We do not believe the word of liars twice. You might have fought for us before, but that brother has gotten his paws on you, and I say you’re no better than Tigerstar himself.”
Bramblestar was enraged now, his hackles raised. “I am not my father.”
Squirrelflight backed away; she had never been as afraid of her mate as she was now. She had always resented Ashfur’s insistence on protecting her every step of the way, but now—now he was right.
“I, and everyone else in this camp, would say the same if you were Firestar’s son, or Bluestar’s, or my own. You are no ThunderClan cat.”
Clearly stung, Bramblestar drew back, curling his lips. “Well, I—I’ve done more than any cat to prove my loyalty! What more do I have to do?” He met Squirrelflight’s gaze pleadingly, but she turned away, and Ashfur squared up to face the tabby instead.
“Turn back time,” Mousefur snapped.
“Don’t you think I tried everything I could do?” Bramblestar’s voice was rising. “I never wanted him dead. But this is what was always going to happen—this is how StarClan said it would be!”
“Get out,” Cloudtail meowed. “StarClan is no more than our own way of telling ourselves how we think the future will be. If you could see no future without Firestar dead, then you are not a cat I want in my Clan. Firestar was my uncle and my mentor, so you had—”
“You know me better than this!” Bramblestar snarled. “Firestar was my mentor too. I owe him my life. Why would I ever want to kill someone who did so much for me?”
“Hawkfrost,” Squirrelflight answered, hoping her voice was icy enough to pierce his heart.
Bramblestar immediately turned to face her again. His expression was now one of guilt. “Squirrelflight, you know I am a loyal ThunderClan cat through and through. My heart has and will always lie with you and with the Clan.” Squirrelflight felt cold shock ripple through Leafpool and fought to clear her head of the image of still gray mountains looming before her.
“But not with Firestar.” This time she glared at him through narrowed eyes that burned painfully with hatred and—she felt guilty, too. It was her own determination to believe Bramblestar had been a good cat that had swayed Firestar; it must have been. “Never with him.”
Sandstorm, who had hardly spoken since receiving the news, padded menacingly toward Bramblestar. There could be no doubt in any cat’s mind that she was prepared to battle to the death to avenge her mate.
He stared longingly still at Squirrelflight. She shook her head. “Go.”
Bramblestar took two steps backward, then turned tail and fled. Now the blood and white noise rose high in Squirrelflight’s ears. Her mother was saying something, but she couldn’t hear. She was acutely aware of Ashfur—was he speaking, too? She closed her eyes.
Leafpool’s mind was focused on another vision: that of two cats walking side by side over the lake. Bramblestar was unmistakable—but the ginger cat was no longer Squirrelflight with her side to her mate; instead it was Firestar, dead and shimmering with the stars Bramblestar trailed behind. CHAPTER TWOSQUIRRELFLIGHTAshfur’s pelt was warm against Squirrelflight’s side. The noise of birds had awoken her. I should have signed up for the dawn patrol, she thought.
Firestar’s death and Brambleclaw’s treachery had shaken her worse than many of her Clanmates; of course Sandstorm was distraught over her mate’s death, and Leafpool felt terrible for announcing her sign of bramble claws surrounding the camp—the sign Squirrelflight was absolutely certain her sister had not invented. StarClan was wrong.
Or maybe Leafpool had simply misinterpreted it: Firestar had once been unnecessarily harsh toward a young Bramblestar simply for the latter speaking to Squirrelflight because he believed the two together would consume the forest. Their power had been not to end the Clan but to save it, bringing all four Clans to the lake. And look at us now.
ThunderClan had been left without a leader or a deputy. Brackenfur had stepped up to assign the patrols for the coming day, but Spiderleg’s sniping had prevented any whole-Clan decisions from being made.
Was that Spiderleg’s voice now? Yawning in exhaustion and exasperation Squirrelflight pulled herself to her paws. The movement was enough to stir Ashfur from his sleep; ruffling his dappled gray pelt he followed her from the den, stretching stiffly.
Spiderleg was indeed speaking; he stood with an arched back on the Highledge, facing down a crouching Brightheart. Squirrelflight was alarmed for a heartbeat but realized quickly that neither cat planned to strike—still, their argument was heated.
“The sign was not real,” Spiderleg meowed, sounding harried. “You know how close they are.”
“Leafpool would not lie,” Brightheart replied, patience wearing thin, “or she would not have returned from the mountains. I trust her, as we all should.”
Spiderleg laughed derisively, an ear flaring as he realized how piercing a sound he had made. “Are you honestly telling me she can’t be a liar because of the time she ran off with a WindClan cat? Leafpool has already shown her true colors, and that’s that she can’t be trusted.”
“I’m sorry, Brightheart, but I don’t believe the sign was real either,” Cloudtail said gently. “I think Leafpool thought it was real, but she only dreamed about it because she wanted what was best for Squirrelflight.”
“Well, I’m not in the habit of disbelieving StarClan.” Rainwhisker began to dip his head, then seemed to remember Spiderleg was not in fact his superior. “Brambles and thorns do look much alike.”
Ashfur nodded, apparently now realizing what was going on. “Thorn claws! Of course.” He padded forward, brushing his tail against Squirrelflight as he passed her. “I think Rainwhisker is right.”
Leafpool’s face appeared momentarily in the mouth of the medicine den and vanished again. Squirrelflight blearily saw the bramble claws again, heard Leafpool’s excitement. Maybe Rainwhisker was right.
“I don’t think so,” Spiderleg said, looking put out. “Leafpool said they were definitely brambles, and if I remember correctly—” he narrowed his eyes and stared pointedly first at Ashfur, then Dustpelt, then the nursery where Daisy was frantically ushering Sorreltail’s kits back inside, “not everyone here was convinced anyway.
“I will stand with ThunderClan,” he added hastily, “and I want this resolved, but I don’t think we can trust Leafpool for it, that’s all.”
Squirrelflight stiffened, but a warning gaze from Ashfur stopped her from shouting Spiderleg off the Highledge. “Leafpool is the last of our worries right now. What matters most is that we are ThunderClan. We will not let this be the end of us; we must have a leader.”
“If it was a real sign, I want to follow it,” said Rainwhisker.
“Thornclaw is a pretty good cat,” Spiderleg conceded.
“This could go on awhile,” Ashfur muttered. “Want to hunt a bit?”
Squirrelflight nodded, relieved not to have been the one to suggest it—she would have felt too guilty about her father’s death to leave, but Spiderleg’s endless commandeering of Clan meetings couldn’t hold her interest.
On their way to warmer hunting grounds they passed the returning dawn patrol; Brackenfur, Thornclaw, Sandstorm, and Whitepaw all looked exhausted, but it seemed there had been no trouble.
“I know it’s a lot,” Ashfur murmured, face turned away; Squirrelflight thought he must be hiding pain. “My own parents died. It was…”
Squirrelflight pressed her pelt against his. “I know.” He seemed surprised at the gesture. “What happened? I mean—you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He’s not as fiery as Bramblestar was, she thought, then admonished herself for it. He’s not as fiery as the traitor, you mean.
“Losing a loved one can be the greatest pain of all,” he said. His words tore at her like a claw: he’d thought he had lost her, too, hadn’t he? She had always assumed he was only angry that Brambleclaw was Tigerstar’s son, but—maybe he knew something she didn’t.
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
“I’ll tell you some other time, but for now, all I want to say is that Tigerstar killed them.” His eyes glimmered. Eventually he whispered, “No cat blames you, Squirrelflight. He lied to all of us. Do you want to hunt now?”
Squirrelflight padded away, still slightly numb. She had slept surprisingly well, but even so it was fitful sleep and much less than usual. How long had it taken Brambleclaw to convince her he was loyal? She had never trusted Hawkfrost. I should have seen this coming, she thought again.
Their hunt was successful. Ashfur helped her unearth her half-buried catches and together they carried the freshkill back to camp. CHAPTER THREELEAFPOOL Leafpool had watched Squirrelflight and Ashfur leave camp side by side. It’s for the best; if I hadn’t interfered with my vision—I swear it was real; perhaps for once a dream really was a dream, but then I can’t be blamed for that, can I?—she would have been his mate anyway, wouldn’t she? Leafpool had thought, although something had felt very wrong about it all the same.
A few more cats had woken; the noise of Spiderleg’s insistent argument had roused Mousefur and the last few warriors, and Sorreltail had finally grown impatient enough to leave her bed despite her exhaustion. As always Leafpool had felt a tinge of jealousy; Sorreltail’s kits would grow up knowing their mother, and Sorreltail herself could care for them. But Leafpool had known this might happen, although she had hoped it would not.
The dawn patrol had returned, and Thornclaw had walked in on a discussion largely of himself. Shortly the decision had been made that, sign or no sign, Thornclaw was as good a candidate as any, and he had set off to ask StarClan for nine lives. Brackenfur had been appointed deputy despite his modesty; he didn’t want to be in charge, he had said, but his Clanmates had pointed out that he had already been arranging patrols for some time and would make a good second-in-command to the sometimes overly hotheaded Thornclaw.
Yellowfang had berated Leafpool the previous night. What were you thinking, telling her that cat was safe? Yet it seemed the gray cat had no better suggestions for what Leafpool might have done: No cat could have seen this coming.
Not sure what else to do with herself, Leafpool had retreated once again into her den and set about ensuring the herbs were all well stocked, hoping there would be a shortage. But she had been falling back on this for so long that there was a large supply of everything. Her eyes fell on the parsley, and she drew back.
“What’d those plants do to you?” Sorreltail mewed softly behind her. Leafpool whirled to face her friend, but the tortoiseshell queen dipped her head and sat down on the medicine floor. “I thought you might want some company. The kits are busy now.”
“Big day,” Leafpool said.
Sorreltail’s eyes were clouded with grief. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. I loved Firestar—we all did—but I wasn’t close to him.”
Grateful for her friend’s presence, Leafpool checked the herbs again out of habit. The oversupply of parsley was not too noticeable, was it? Sorreltail certainly wasn’t reacting to it, but then, she had never been interested in herbs or their uses; Brightheart would surely know what it was for.
“I believed you, and I still do,” said Sorreltail. “Thorns and brambles are easy to confuse. Or maybe it was bramble claws ensnaring the camp. But I believe what you saw.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t think clearly enough to say more, but hopefully Sorreltail understood. She had a vision of herself, scared, guilty, sad, alone with him, his gray fur rippling and blue eyes glittering in the wind as Ash—It’s Squirrelflight, not me. There was no time for daydreaming and no room for thoughts of Crowfeather inside her head.
Squirrelflight had all the time in the world.
“The Clan won’t stay mad at you. It’s a natural reaction, to blame anyone you can—but plenty of us know you wouldn’t lie, and the others will come around soon.”
Leafpool nodded. Sorreltail was probably wrong, but she appreciated the gesture.
Now Brightheart pushed through the screen and padded into the den. Suddenly it was stifling, the air dry and hot and sticky on Leafpool’s whiskers. She had tried as best she could to forgive the gold-and-white warrior, but now that the Clan thought she had lied again, would she ever be accepted? And StarClan forbid they find out about the kits! But this thought only made her jealousy worse: Brightheart had Cloudtail and Whitepaw, yet she was still allowed to function as medicine cat.
Brightheart gathered up a mouthful of daisy leaves, saying “Mousefur” as she bent to grab them. At least she had one use, Leafpool thought with bitter triumph; now she could collect daisy leaves.
“I have to go,” she said quietly; Sorreltail rose to her paws and left the den but didn’t follow her out of camp. Leafpool knew already where to find daisy leaves, so she padded slowly along the trail.
She could run away again, just her and Crowfeather, and they could have their kits in peace. Maybe I’ll name one Firekit and one Squirrelkit, she mused.
But that was ridiculous. Leafpool had returned home because in the end her Clan, her home, was more important than a mate. She had known from the moment she set her heart on being a medicine cat it would mean never raising a family, although she had not been ready when the feelings had begun.
The Clan still needs me, she told herself. My kits will be safer with a whole Clan protecting them. And Sorreltail might need help, and she can’t come with us.
Leafpool reached the daisies and lay down for a few minutes, wanting to waste as much time as possible before facing her Clanmates again, but every moment she spent on the grass was tense and wrought her nerves as she thought of how angry they might be if they found her slacking.
When she couldn’t take it anymore she stripped a few daisies of their leaves and trudged home, halfheartedly trying to make a game out of feeling the grass beneath her paws, giving up on the game entirely when she realized how little sense it made and what a kitten she was being.
None of the cats in the camp called attention to her, but she was sure she could feel hostile glares on her pelt.
The only thing she could think of now was to sleep. Maybe StarClan would answer some of her questions. But she saw no cats in her nightmares. A fox trap, a silent forest, three burning stars in the sky—and it all went up in flames. Tongues of fire licked at her, but she wasn’t there; she braced herself for the heat, but it was cold. It settled much faster than it should have, and the now charred and blackened forest was covered in a layer of ash. Her pawsteps stirred up the cinders and dust into her throat and she was choking. The fox trap had her by the neck, thorns digging into her skin. She knew she was dying, but she felt no pain.
Waking with a start, Leafpool gasped and pawed at her throat. She had been Firestar, caught in the trap, suffocated by brambles, reduced to ash.
And the three stars had been there, brighter even than the fire. She still wasn’t sure what they meant, but maybe…no, it was too soon. There are no signs.
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!” yowled Thornstar’s voice. Still haunted by the dream, she left the den, falling into step with Squirrelflight and an Ashfur brewing with emotion.
“Birchpaw has told me something interesting,” Thornstar announced. “It seems Bramblestar was not the only cat who wanted Firestar dead.”
Birchpaw? But how would he know? wondered Leafpool; after all, shouldn’t he really only have been with—
“Ashfur.” CHAPTER FOURSQUIRRELFLIGHT“Ashfur,” called Thornstar. Fear and confusion shot through Squirrelflight’s pelt: Ashfur had nothing to do with this! He himself had been the one to reveal Bramblestar’s treachery.
“Yesterday we determined that Bramblestar and a RiverClan cat led Firestar to the fox trap to die,” Thornstar said, “but that isn’t the whole story. Birchpaw, can you tell them what you said before?”
“Ashfur said Blackstar was waiting on the border near the lake, and I was supposed to tell Firestar he wanted to talk to him.” Birchpaw swallowed and glanced at Ashfur. “And, um, I did what he said. Firestar asked me if he really had to go alone, and he told me that he did, so Firestar went.”
“We searched for ShadowClan scent and found none,” Brackenfur reminded the Clan.
“I swear I did not see Bramblestar or a RiverClan cat there,” Ashfur meowed, his voice wavering slightly. “Blackstar was on his side of the territory and wanted to meet Firestar. I know it sounds…too convenient, but I am telling the truth.”
Thornstar nodded. “Very recently every cat would trust you. But you said it yourself—it seems too convenient. Would ShadowClan not intervene if they heard a cat dying?”
“They left a kit screaming in a trap once,” Ashfur reminded him, referring to when a patrol led by the ShadowClan deputy Russetfur had not only ignored but stood by and watched from the other side of the border as Berrypaw wailed to be freed from the snare.
“What did Blackstar look like?” Brightheart asked, a sad, knowing look in her calm blue eye. Ashfur made a noise as if he had gasped and clacked his jaws together without intending to do either.
“Dark,” the apprentice replied with certainty. Squirrelflight felt her blood turn to ice. “Big and dark.”
Thornstar surveyed the Clan coldly before asking, “Ashfur, how many Gatherings have you been to?”
“Dark paws,” Ashfur hissed. “Big, dark paws!”
Birchpaw looked scared. “He was almost a black cat,” he told Thornstar. “He was dark and white, and he was really big.”
Ashfur was standing now, spitting. “You cannot honestly think I of all cats would kill Firestar!”
Thornstar’s gaze was sorrowful. Ashfur stared for a moment—then fled.
Squirrelflight was the first to give chase. She couldn’t lose another cat, not this soon.
Before she could think through what she was going to say to him, he rounded on her. “I did this for your own good!” Cold fire flared in his eyes, which had always been so warm before. “Do you have any idea how much pain I’m in? It’s like being cut open every day, bleeding onto the stones. I had to make you see the blood. I had to take your father away—you could never understand before how much pain I was in! You did this, Squirrelflight. You have never looked past your own whiskers to see a cat for who he truly was. I love you; you can’t do this to me!”
Disgust had risen in Squirrelflight’s chest. Wrong twice over. “That isn’t love.”
Ashfur snarled. “How can you still be so wrong?” He advanced on her, but a yellowish paw connected with his shoulder. Sandstorm had struck him down. Teeth bared, she hissed at him; he scrambled to his paws—Squirrelflight could see a gash in his shoulder—and dashed away. Several more warriors passed Squirrelflight, stopping short and turning to Thornstar for orders.
“Send someone after him,” Thornstar commanded. “We don’t want him coming back.”
Sandstorm took off after the gray cat. Squirrelflight stared after her mother, hoping she would be safe, then realized she had been staring longer than any cat had stayed in the clearing. She took a step, but the world was sideways; somehow she staggered all the way to the medicine den, where Leafpool helped her lie down farther in.
The full realization of what had happened was beginning to sink in. Last night the news had been so sudden, and she had already been exhausted; none of it had felt real. But now that she was in the quiet medicine den and even Ashfur had betrayed her, Squirrelflight was forced to come to terms with the fact that her old life was gone.
There was no sleeping now, not with the pain boiling just behind her ears, so she heard the clicking of claws on stone and the swish of ferns as some cat entered the den. It was Thornstar; he said he needed to talk to Leafpool. She could hardly hear him, but his tone was urgent. Squirrelflight strained to hear or to read Leafpool’s mind.
“I don’t want the Clan to know, because it would only cause more trouble. But my ceremony didn’t go as planned.”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
“First they said you should be there, but then Firestar told me that this had happened before. A leader had gone for the ceremony while the other leader was still alive. And when that happens—”
“Did that interfere with your lives?” Leafpool breathed.
“They gave me none,” he admitted.
Squirrelflight blinked. A leader without nine lives. Just what our Clan needs right now.
“They said that I am still allowed to be recognized as an official ThunderClan leader, and my name is Thornstar, but I won’t be able to get nine lives unless Bramblestar loses all of his.” He sighed. “And Bramblestar’s got to be far away by now.”
Leafpool didn’t say anything. Squirrelflight tried to listen to her sister’s thoughts, but her mind was closed off, full of fuzzy interference and cold mountain air.
“Thank you for telling me,” Leafpool eventually murmured, upset. “The other Clans won’t know anything is different, at least. Just try to be a little careful.”
“As careful as I was before,” Thornstar meowed; Squirrelflight wasn’t sure if this qualified as agreement, since he had plenty of rash moments, but at least he seemed to respect his medicine cat. “All we can hope now is that that RiverClan cat doesn’t know.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” said Leafpool grimly. “The Gathering is coming up.”
Squirrelflight heard Thornstar say goodbye and leave; she noticed how stiff her neck was from craning to hear their conversation and tried to relax. Leafpool didn’t mention Thornstar’s visit, and Squirrelflight thought she must not have realized the dark ginger warrior had heard. They were rather quiet.
Brackenfur didn’t assign Squirrelflight to a patrol that day, which was a relief; he apparently realized how hurt she had been by the past two days. But she knew she would have to get over her mood before the Gathering, just in case the other Clans found out Thornstar’s secret. CHAPTER FIVESQUIRRELFLIGHTThe vole’s fur tickled Squirrelflight’s mouth as she scratched at the earth. Dropping it into the hole and scraping loose soil over it, she flinched as she saw a gray-furred cat in the corner of her eye, even knowing it was only Rainwhisker. Ashfur is dead now, she told herself.
Leafbare was truly setting in now; it had been only a few days since Ashfur had been chased from the camp, but frost had settled on the grass and there was a bite in the air that had not been there before.
Rainwhisker buried a squirrel and padded away again, pelt bristling against the cold. Squirrelflight shook her head to clear it and headed down a narrow path. Hunting was still easy enough that ThunderClan didn’t need to worry about starvation, or wouldn’t have if not for both WindClan and ShadowClan stealing prey. During greenleaf it was easy enough to fend them away, but down two warriors and with a new leader—one with no deputy experience—and the onset of frost ThunderClan was nowhere near their former strength.
Something nearby rattled the grass, and Squirrelflight could hear prey scattering. “Mouse dung,” she muttered.
“This way,” she heard someone call; she froze. Not again. The voice was Tornear’s; the battered warrior always seemed to be chosen to lead the raids on ThunderClan territory.
“Rainwhisker! Brightheart!” she yowled. A furious rattling alerted her to the WindClan patrol’s position even before they appeared over the crest of the hill; there were only four cats, and one was a bit small. Tornear barreled straight for Squirrelflight, the other cats flanking him.
Squirrelflight dodged Tornear’s first strike, but his claws connected with her jaw on the second. She let out an involuntary squeal of pain, and one of the other fully-grown cats, a lean, white-pawed ginger warrior, headbutted her other shoulder.
Rainwhisker arrived before Brightheart; the mottled brownish tabby met him head-on, bowling him over, but Rainwhisker kicked at his belly and Owlwhisker released him. The ThunderClan cats were still more muscular than the invaders, although hunger had weakened them.
Squirrelflight grabbed a mouthful of Tornear’s fur just behind his shoulder. He screeched with rage and clawed at her; he hit a scar and she released him with a roar.
“Get the other one,” Tornear barked. The white-pawed cat looked surprised as Brightheart pounced, followed by a curse from Tornear. “Gorsepaw, do something,” he added as he swatted at Squirrelflight’s face.
“Leave us alone,” hissed Brightheart, twisting her neck to keep her ginger-and-white attacker in her sight. “The forest is not your land; it belongs to ThunderClan.”
“That could change,” said the cat.
Brightheart snarled ferociously. “ThunderClan will never give up our home!” She swung heavily at the lithe warrior, apparently abandoning her usual careful style.
It seemed to Squirrelflight that the other cat’s threat was not what Tornear intended, as for a heartbeat he hesitated stiff-jawed before attempting to throw the ginger queen to the ground.
Taking advantage of this momentary weakness, Squirrelflight shoved him back, pinning him firmly to the ground with her forepaws on his chest. He still reached for her with his claws, but she pressed down until he gasped for breath. Squirrelflight lifted her head and growled, “Surrender.” Tornear didn’t respond, but Owlwhisker slowly, grudgingly nodded.
Squirrelflight relaxed her forepaws slightly. Tornear scrambled out from underneath, pulling himself stiffly to his paws. Hissing and arching his back, he muttered an order to his Clanmates and they retreated over the hill, glancing over their shoulders at the ThunderClan hunting patrol.
Brightheart was panting harshly. Her blue eye was round and vacant, tracking the path the WindClan cats had taken. Her legs were rigid and her toes splayed, claws digging into the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Squirrelflight asked. “Are you hurt?”
Brightheart’s jaw moved, but Squirrelflight didn’t catch what she said. Leaning in closer she repeated her questions; the gold-and-white queen whispered, “Pack, pack, kill, kill.”
The hair rose on Squirrelflight’s spine. “That’s not good,” she said, unsure if she should console the older warrior.
Brightheart tilted her head down and worked her jaw for a moment. “No,” she finally said in a small voice, uncharacteristic of the brave warrior Squirrelflight knew. “But that was a long time ago.”
Rainwhisker looked nervous. “We should tell Thornstar and Leafpool.” Stopping to pick up the prey they had caught, the three cats returned to camp.
Leafpool met them at the entrance, fretting, but Brightheart assured her they would be fine and treatment could wait a few minutes. Looking crushed Leafpool hunched down closer to the ground.
“Is Thornstar here?” Brightheart asked her.
Leafpool shook her head. “He’s patrolling the ShadowClan border.”
Brightheart sighed. “Of course. Still a warrior at heart. Anyway, we should get our wounds treated if we’re going to have to wait.”
Brightheart had been right; none of the cats bore serious wounds. Leafpool pressed a poultice of comfrey against the reopened gash behind Squirrelflight’s shoulder, saying it would heal quickly but she should be more careful next time.
Squirrelflight winced, feeling the comfrey sting her side. “I’ll try,” she promised, pelt prickling at the realization that there would definitely be a next time, and that it would definitely be soon. Tornear had only withdrawn because Squirrelflight had gotten the upper paw.
Maybe you should have trained harder, she thought, instead of going off with Bramblestar on his quest! But she knew that was silly. She had saved the Clan then, she had flown into ThunderClan’s camp, she had fought as hard as anyone against the badgers!
Brightheart waited by the freshkill pile for Thornstar’s return. Squirrelflight’s mouth was watering; she picked up a vole and carried it over to the wall of the hollow. Next time, we’ll be ready. CHAPTER SIXSQUIRRELFLIGHTThe full moon hung heavy and orange in the sky, dark against Silverpelt but unthreatened by the few wisps of cloud passing underneath. A bat flittered past Squirrelflight; a rustle and thud behind her announced that Birchpaw had tried to catch it. She heard Sandstorm, Birchpaw’s new mentor, chide him halfheartedly.
Tonight was a warmer night than the past few had been, but the breeze over the lake promised this would not last. Squirrelflight shivered as the wind sliced through her pelt, trying to fluff out her fur to warm herself. If Bramblestar hadn’t gone off with Hawkfrost I could probably get him to block the wind for me.
Thornstar had not seemed to have high hopes about the Gathering, though he had still tried to rally his Clan. Firestar’s untimely death might come as a surprise to some cats, although Squirrelflight had a feeling that news had spread to all the Clans by now. A leader so involved in every cat’s business simply dropping dead was unlikely to go unnoticed.
ThunderClan’s Gathering patrol filed along the lakeshore. Squirrelflight’s heart still clenched as she passed the place where Firestar had been snared. Feeling sick, she turned to the lake, but the rust-colored moon glittered darkly against the water, looking as thick as blood.
ShadowClan had already started for the island; Squirrelflight could smell their scent lingering beneath her paws on the RiverClan shore. She hauled herself onto the fallen tree, left shoulder twinging where Tornear had ripped it open. The bark was chipped and worn, clawed apart by the few seasons of cats walking across it, but the tree itself was still strong.
Hopping down, Squirrelflight spotted Tawnypelt and padded toward her. The tortoiseshell cat still scanned ThunderClan’s ranks as she greeted Squirrelflight. “It’s good to see you. Times rough now?”
“Things could be better,” Squirrelflight admitted. “Onestar is still hunting in our territory. But we’re eating.”
Tawnypelt nodded. “We heard you had some trouble with—with one of your warriors, that’s all.” She still sounded nervous.
Oh, right, thought Squirrelflight nervously. They’re littermates. She shrugged. “Yeah, a while ago. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
Tawnypelt narrowed her green eyes but didn’t ask any further. Eventually she spoke again. “We’ve been having a decent time for it being leafbare,” she offered. “We’ve got plenty of prey. Must be a first.”
WindClan was finally beginning to arrive. The lithe ginger tom from the border skirmish leered at Squirrelflight as he passed. She caught a glimpse of boxy Tornear shouldering his way through the crowd with Gorsepaw behind him.
Tawnypelt tried to follow Squirrelflight’s gaze, but before Squirrelflight could point out the three cats they had disappeared. “Nothing,” she assured the ShadowClan cat.
Leopardstar began to speak, but Onestar cut her off. “Welcome, Thornstar,” he meowed. “I didn’t expect to see another cat in Firestar’s place for quite some time.” He didn’t sound surprised; Squirrelflight bristled at his arrogant tone. Lifting his muzzle, Onestar added, “I knew something was amiss when I heard ThunderClan was stepping over its borders.”
“We are not,” Squirrelflight snapped, leaping to her paws. Sandstorm shushed her as several cats craned their necks to see who had spoken out. “Well, we’re not,” she said defensively, but slightly more quietly.
Onestar’s amber gaze met Squirrelflight, but he said nothing more. He looked small next to the other leaders.
“We have heard some interesting news,” Blackstar meowed. “But that is not why we are here. Prey is running well in ShadowClan, and we are pleased to announce that we have a new warrior, Smokefoot.”
A black cat near Squirrelflight looked pleased as everyone chanted his name. Tawnypelt muttered into Squirrelflight’s ear that he had been a traveling rogue picked up by the Clan and Blackstar had named him after an unfortunate apprentice who had died crossing the mountains.
Leopardstar was much thinner than Squirrelflight had expected—was she not eating anymore? The spotted cat still made a regal figure on her branch, but something definitely looked amiss. “Rippletail and Beechfur have become warriors. Our streams are full of fish.” Again the Clans chanted the warriors’ names.
Onestar announced that Gorsetail had been made a warrior. Now Squirrelflight found the rough-pelted cat again, sitting next to Beechfur.
Leafpool was afraid.
Squirrelflight wanted to rush to her sister’s side, but she knew she had already made enough of a scene. She tried to tune out Leafpool’s fear and concentrate on Onestar, but his smugness was too much to bear.
Finally it was Thornstar’s turn to speak. But as he introduced himself, Hawkfrost stood. “I think we’re all waiting for an explanation,” the RiverClan cat said. “Where is Firestar, and where is Brambleclaw? Shouldn’t it be one of them sitting up there?”
“It is not your place to speak,” Mistyfoot warned him from the base of the tree. But Squirrelflight could hear some murmurs from the crowd as the moonlight faltered.
“Firestar is dead,” said Thornstar.
“Is Brambleclaw dead, too?” asked Hawkfrost. “I thought he was your deputy.”
“Bramblestar does not walk with ThunderClan anymore, either,” said Thornstar, an edge creeping into his voice. “It is none of your concern.” The light had faded a bit more now.
“Mothwing spoke to StarClan just the other night. Would you like to know what they said?” Hawkfrost pushed past a couple of cats and marched onto the Great Tree’s roots. “Bramblestar was chased from your Clan after being given nine lives.”
Leafpool’s fear swept back into her at these words. Somehow Squirrelflight thought StarClan had nothing to do with it.
“You are not the rightful leader of ThunderClan!” Hawkfrost challenged. “StarClan did not grant you any lives. Whatever Bramblestar did, StarClan approved his leadership.”
“StarClan approved Tigerstar’s leadership, and Brokenstar’s,” Thornstar growled. “I may not have Bramblestar’s lives, but I am a truer leader than he ever was.”
“But was there not a sign?” Bramblestar must have told him about Leafpool’s vision. Thornstar didn’t have a chance to answer—the clouds that had moved over the moon now obscured it fully.
“The Gathering is over,” announced Onestar, leaping fluidly from his branch. Leopardstar followed stiffly. Thornstar looked nervous as Blackstar watched him leave.
Leafpool and Mothwing walked together, whispering urgently. Tawnypelt headed off with her ShadowClan friends, playfully headbutting Rowanclaw’s shoulder.
Leafpool was still distracted the whole way home. Squirrelflight had no one to talk to now that Bramblestar and Ashfur were both gone. She walked in silence, the lake lapping at her paws. CHAPTER SEVENLEAFPOOL Ever since the Gathering, ThunderClan had been even more tense than before. It seemed Hawkfrost’s announcement had reminded everyone of ShadowClan’s Nightstar. No cat save Spiderleg had challenged Thornstar’s authority, but the news had not been taken well.
WindClan’s raids had continued in earnest. Leafpool felt a grim guilt every time she pawed through her dwindling herb stock. It had been so full just one moon ago. But now ThunderClan cats were receiving more wounds than before, and the approaching leafbare made herbs more difficult to find.
Leafpool had thought that maybe after Firestar’s death Onestar’s onslaught would cease. The WindClan tom had been one of Firestar’s closest friends until he had suddenly been appointed leader. It was fear that other Clans would accuse him of favoring ThunderClan, she had thought, that spurred his attacks—but they almost seemed to be getting more aggressive.
Today it was Birchfall, one of ThunderClan’s newest warriors, who had needed the most attention. According to Brackenfur, whose muzzle was laced with new scars, some of WindClan’s strongest warriors had been involved in the battle—even an only slightly abashed Ashfoot.
The screen of Leafpool’s den swished, and she turned to see Sorreltail carrying Honeykit in her jaws. Cinderkit and Molekit pattered in behind her, keeping their distance to peer apprehensively around their mother’s legs.
“Honeykit’s cough has gotten worse,” mewed Sorreltail, setting the dappled kit on the floor of the medicine den. “I don’t know if it’s serious, but I thought you ought to know.”
Leafpool dipped her head. “Have any of the other kits caught it?”
“No,” said Sorreltail, “and they won’t, as long as they stay away—” She shot a glance at the kits behind her, who backed out of the den; Leafpool could see them trying to find a good view. “Poppykit is the only one I could get to sleep,” she added apologetically.
“That’s all right,” purred Leafpool. Honeykit coughed weakly. Leafpool nosed through her herbs and hooked a claw into a catmint leaf. “If it’s whitecough or kitcough, this will take care of it. If it’s not, this should still work, but this doesn’t look like greencough or blackcough.” Leafpool shredded the leaf and pushed the scraps toward Honeykit. “Eat this.”
Honeykit eagerly gulped down the catmint. Leafpool noticed that Sorreltail was smelling the air appreciatively—perhaps Leafpool had become desensitized to the herb’s compelling scent; she had a vague memory of being overwhelmed the first time.
“Honeykit should stay here for the night, just to make sure she isn’t contagious,” Leafpool instructed Sorreltail. She was also concerned about the cold, but Sorreltail probably had enough to deal with.
Honeykit cried out indignantly. “I don’t want to!”
“Don’t worry, Honeykit,” Sorreltail murmured soothingly, bending to touch her nose to her kit’s. “It’s only for one night. Think of it as an adventure.”
Honeykit did not seem appeased, but she sat sullenly in place as Sorreltail padded away. Leafpool watched her leave, wondering how her friend could let her kits out of sight so easily. But then, I’ll have to get used to it, she thought. I can’t even stay in the nursery with them.
If only the badgers had come some other time! Instantly Leafpool felt horrible for this thought. It’s not the timing; it’s the badgers themselves. If only the badgers had never come. But her pelt still pricked at the realization of her first reflex. Is my heart with ThunderClan or not?
That was over; there was no use dwelling on the past. At least, not right now, with danger from WindClan so imminent.
Honeykit coughed a couple more times; Leafpool considered giving her a second leaf, but the kit was probably too small to handle much more. Instead she offered the kit poppy seeds. Honeykit tentatively licked them up.
Leafpool arranged some moss in a small nest near her own, then nervously ate some of her parsley. Honeykit curled up in the nest, still upset but drowsy. Now it was time to fill up the stores again. Marigold would be the most pressing; Birchfall’s injury had taken much more than Leafpool would have liked.
I bet Cinderpelt wouldn’t be running low, she thought, creeping out of the den. One of the more rational parts of her mind knew no one was paying her much mind, but she still felt hot stares on her pelt. Some of her Clanmates still didn’t fully trust her, especially now that even the second guess about StarClan’s chosen cat had fallen through.
Thornstar himself was returning from a hunting patrol. He was trying to keep up with usual leader duties, but having had no deputy experience the tabby struggled. Most of ThunderClan’s warriors had been working harder now than they had during the few comfortable moons toward the end of Firestar’s leadership, but Leafpool feared Thornstar might be overworking himself to prove his worth.
The patrol brought back a meager amount of prey to add to the pile; Leafpool caught Spiderleg’s unmistakable voice scoff something, but she was too far away to discern his words. Fortunately, she thought wryly. Spiderleg certainly knew how to capture a crowd, but usually he did this by spouting conspiracies and challenging anyone who might disagree.
She knew exactly where to find the marigold. She had been going through it so quickly that her paws carried her there almost automatically.
Something was wrong.
Leafpool knew she had used up more marigold than she could afford, especially this long after newleaf, but she had made sure to leave some. Yet now the patch of wilting leaves had been reduced to nearly bare stems.
A familiar scent reached her nose, and Leafpool was struck by nostalgia hard enough that she stepped back a few paces; her fur felt thinner than ever against the leafbare air. Crowfeather.
Suddenly rage burst through her chest. WindClan had stolen their herbs! Wasn’t the prey enough? Couldn’t they be satisfied with the territory they had? And certainly there was enough land toward the mountains. Leafpool remembered her trek to the Clans—and to and from the mountains with Crowfeather. The hills past WindClan’s outer edge were perfectly safe.
Even knowing what Leafpool would be going through, Crowfeather had destroyed her herbs. She almost regretted treating Birchfall’s wound so thoroughly; he’d have been fine. But she knew she had done the right thing.
Uncertain of what to do without herbs, Leafpool searched her mind frantically. What else could substitute for marigold? Chervil would prevent infections, but she still needed to heal the wounds. Goldenrod would not be plentiful enough in this season.
Comfrey, she remembered. It could be hard to come by, but she didn’t need flowers or even leaves; just the roots would do.
Leafpool dug up all the comfrey she could find. It wasn’t the bounty she had hoped for, but it was better than nothing. Crunching over the frost-covered grass she returned to camp, where she noticed with relief that no warriors nursed new wounds.
Leafpool nearly tripped over Poppykit as the tiny tortoiseshell darted beneath her paws. Her comfrey roots tumbled to the ground as she squawked in surprise. The kit scuttled away, looking scared.
To Leafpool’s surprise, it was Daisy who volunteered to gather up the spilled roots. The cream-colored queen had never shown much interest in medicine, and Leafpool would have expected her to take charge of Poppykit instead of cleaning up her mess. But she was grateful for the help.
Daisy seemed to know that Leafpool wasn’t telling her everything; several moons of working with kits had probably taught her a lot about emotions. Her ice blue eyes were darkly knowing.
“We could return to the horseplace,” she suggested softly. “If it ever becomes too hard here.” A chill shot through Leafpool’s body, but Daisy continued. “I brought my kits here twice. Once because I was afraid to lose them, and once because I realized this was my family.” She stared straight into Leafpool’s eyes. “But now our entire family is in danger here.”
“ThunderClan are warriors, and the warrior code forbids the kittypet life,” said Leafpool, a bit more harshly than she meant.
Daisy shook her head. “I know honor means a lot to you. But if we cannot stay here, then there is no use dying when we could have escaped. I will stand by ThunderClan until our last hope has been dashed, but I will not lose my kits if I can prevent it.”
“You would really leave us.”
“Not all of us could stay at the horseplace,” Daisy admitted. “But some could. And there are lands beyond it.”
Leafpool stared silently back at her.
“Your kits would appreciate it, too.”
The queen held Leafpool’s gaze for a few heartbeats longer, then padded out of the den without another word. CHAPTER EIGHTLEAFPOOLLeafpool woke the next morning to find that leafbare had finally set in. The moment she stirred it was as if icy talons reached down through her fur, gripping her fiercely.
Honeykit shivered in her nearby nest. Leafpool realized she had not done much to insulate the poor kit; of course, her own kits would have Daisy. Unless she leaves. Leafpool supposed it wasn’t much of a surprise, really, considering Daisy had tried to leave when Berrypaw’s tail had been cut off, but it would certainly not be helpful for her kits.
Though she was cold, Honeykit’s cough seemed better, so Leafpool nosed her awake and escorted her out of the medicine den. The kit’s legs seemed a bit stiff from sleeping so long, but she eagerly joined her littermates in the nursery.
Hearing voices echoing from Thornstar’s den, Leafpool climbed onto the Highledge to find Thornstar speaking with Brightheart, Spiderleg, and Squirrelflight. Squirrelflight was tense with fear enough to make Leafpool’s heartbeat quicken.
Spiderleg looked as self-important as ever as he meowed, “We need to do something now, or we’re all going to die.”
A growl started in the back of Squirrelflight’s throat, but she suppressed it. “The best thing we can do is step up our defenses.”
Spiderleg hissed. “We’re losing ground every day. We have to finish this immediately, and we have to strike before they do.”
“We aren’t going after WindClan,” Thornstar asserted. “ThunderClan cannot afford a full-scale battle right now.”
“Our herbs are running low,” agreed Brightheart. “We would only lose cats in the battle, and Onestar could use it as an excuse to crush us entirely. We can’t beat them as we are.”
Spiderleg kneaded the ground in frustration, flicking his whiskers. “But then—Thornclaw, you can’t allow them to keep stealing our prey!”
Thornstar’s eyes hardened, and Leafpool saw his shoulders tense. “I am not allowing WindClan to do anything. Onestar has overstepped his boundaries. But there is only so much I can do. It’s difficult enough trying to feed the Clan right now; our only option is to last this leafbare. Come greenleaf, or better, newleaf, we can take further actions.”
“That’s not enough,” spat Spiderleg. “You’re going to lead us into disaster.”
Squirrelflight growled, “I’m all for showing those pieces of fox dung that ThunderClan will never surrender. But we can’t start battles we have no chance of winning.”
Leafpool padded forward nervously. “Spiderleg, Thornstar is right.”
The black-and-brown tom laughed, scorning, strident, “You can say whatever you’d like. Brambleclaw, Thornclaw, what’s the difference?” He flicked an ear toward Thornstar. “At least Thornclaw didn’t kill Firestar, but you have to know that no one believes you. Not even StarClan.” The words were like a claw to the heart. Leafpool had finally started to believe her Clanmates trusted her. How many other cats agreed with Spiderleg after all?
Thornstar muscled between Spiderleg and Leafpool, forcing the black warrior back a few pawsteps. “Do not speak to your medicine cat this way. My name is Thornstar, and I am your leader.”
“Not according to StarClan,” Spiderleg sniffed.
Squirrelflight’s hackles bushed out. “You know that’s not true! StarClan didn’t kick him out or tell him to step down. They have to follow the rules just as much as you do.”
“Says the cat who ran off with Brambleclaw ’cause her father wouldn’t let her run the Clan.”
“Get out of my den,” ordered Thornstar. “You are to lead a hunting patrol toward the outer edge of our territory. Go as far as you can without risking getting lost.”
Spiderleg started to protest, but Brightheart rose to her paws. “Yes, come on, Spiderleg. We will take Sandstorm and Dustpelt with us.”
Spiderleg’s amber eyes were livid as he stalked past Leafpool, but for once he didn’t try to argue. Brightheart followed him, tail lashing.
Thornstar dismissed Squirrelflight as well. When the ginger she-cat had left, he turned to Leafpool. “I need guidance. Can I trust you to talk to StarClan for me?”
“I can try,” she said numbly, knowing she should not complain about his wariness but stung nonetheless. “I can’t make them talk to me, but I can hope.”
The golden-brown tabby sighed. “That’s good enough.” Leafpool thought he was finished speaking, but after a long pause he added, “I should have known the news would get out. I’m not the only cat who remembers Brokenstar. He was…one of the worst cats the Clans have ever seen. Those were dark times. But we survived then, and we will survive now.”
Leafpool nodded. She hadn’t been alive when Brokenstar had ruled ShadowClan, but she remembered Sandstorm telling her of his evils to explain why she had to wait to become an apprentice.
“That’s all. You may go. I have to go to the border anyway.” He slowly leapt down from the Highledge, landing with a jolt. Leafpool knew he was exhausted.
Thornstar beckoned the returning Birchfall and Whitewing to join him. They dropped their catches on the freshkill pile and hastily followed Thornstar out of the camp. CHAPTER NINESQUIRRELFLIGHT The ginger-and-white cat raked thorn-sharp claws over Squirrelflight’s muzzle. She roared with rage and reared onto her hind paws, slamming the WindClan warrior into the ground.
“Weaselfur!” barked Onestar, paws on Dustpelt’s neck, Dustpelt’s claws scrabbling at the WindClan leader’s throat. “Get to your paws!” The cat struggled underneath Squirrelflight; she drew back a paw and brought it back down on Weaselfur’s cheek.
Crowfeather—We were friends once! Well, not friends, but—charged at Squirrelflight, catching the side of her neck. She recoiled and released Weaselfur, who slipped away amidst the turmoil. The gray warrior boxed at Squirrelflight’s ears before springing aside; she stumbled where he should have been.
“Stop it,” Squirrelflight whispered, not sounding half as fierce as she had intended. Crowfeather hissed back, striking at her jaw. Two of his claws connected; Squirrelflight felt the blood spurt from her lip.
Out of the corner of her eye Squirrelflight could see Daisy fleeing, kits in tow, a smallish brown cat on her heels. Not like she was going to be much help here—but fox dung! Fox dung! We’ve just lost four cats!
Crowfeather took Squirrelflight’s distraction as an opportunity; he darted forward and sank his teeth into her neck. She yowled in anguish. Was her traveling partner—her sister’s mate—really going to kill her?
Suddenly Crowfeather’s teeth dragged backward. Already running out of breath, Squirrelflight gasped from the pain, but the gray cat no longer had her throat in his jaws; Sandstorm was hauling him away with the strength only a true ThunderClan warrior could muster. His blue eyes burned with hatred; Squirrelflight wondered briefly whether his spine hurt as he twisted to grapple at the cream-colored cat.
Owlwhisker raced past, Poppykit in his jaws; the weight of the kit slowed his progress, and Sorreltail brought him down. Poppykit cried loudly. Squirrelflight swatted at a pale gray tabby who had swooped in to pick up the kit.
The tabby tried to swerve around Squirrelflight to catch her from behind, but Squirrelflight was ready; she had fought WindClan cats before. She bowled the cat over, kicking furiously with both of her hind paws. But the cat’s pelt was slick, and Squirrelflight lost her grip.
Dustpelt staggered past nearby as he tried to keep Onestar’s claws away from the soft part of his neck. Birchfall darted underneath and headbutted Onestar’s underbelly. The WindClan leader flinched, bending over the young warrior in pain as Birchfall bit at him.
Sorreltail had managed to return Poppykit to the nursery, but Squirrelflight spotted Webfoot preparing to make a run at her. Squirrelflight dodged past the battling cats and interrupted his charge. The dark gray tabby was smaller than Squirrelflight; he collided with her shoulder and fell to the ground, scrambling back to his paws with a snarl. Hardly affected by his fall at all, Squirrelflight swiped at his paws; she managed to hit one, but he jumped, bringing his upper teeth down on her forehead.
Webfoot’s throat was directly in front of her now; Squirrelflight reached forward to nip at him. He squealed and jerked backward, slipping on blood.
The taste of her own blood struck her now; Squirrelflight reflexively licked her lips, cringing at the dark, metallic flavor. Webfoot lashed at her; his claws caught in her fur, but with effectively no power behind them. Squirrelflight advanced, and he tore his paw away, ripping out tufts of ginger fur.
WindClan had attacked ThunderClan’s camp. There had been no warning; the dawn patrol had not even begun. A deathly pale blue was beginning to creep across the sky now; black shadows still obscured much of the fighting, but the gray light made the blood shimmer gently, sickeningly, against the dull, dusty ground.
Gorsetail, the new WindClan warrior, grabbed one of Squirrelflight’s ankles. Feeling the teeth sink into her foot, Squirrelflight yowled. Webfoot struck again, tearing her ear, but Sorreltail now pounced on him. The tortoiseshell queen quickly returned to the mouth of the nursery, where she stood, back arched, guarding her kits. Webfoot nervously glanced from the enraged Squirrelflight to the incensed Sorreltail before inching away.
Squirrelflight kicked at Gorsetail, and the gray-and-white warrior eventually let go of her paw. Limping, Squirrelflight whirled and whacked at Gorsetail’s ears until the smaller cat backed off.
Sandstorm was still dealing with Crowfeather; huge, square Tornear battled both Dustpelt and Ferncloud. Squirrelflight had to remind herself that Ferncloud had been an excellent warrior once.
Suddenly the atmosphere of the fight changed. It was as if all the older warriors were suddenly collectively holding their breath. Thornstar had brought his paw down hard on Onestar’s head, and the WindClan cat had collapsed.
Onestar was not dying. His sides still heaved, and his paws still held him up. He was dazed; rising slowly, he shook his head. Thornstar whacked him again, and the brown tabby crumpled.
Thornstar looked a bit nervous as he raised his head to scan the cats in the clearing. “This battle is over,” he declared.
Ashfoot dipped her head, slowly touching her nose all the way to the ground. “WindClan, let’s go,” she growled.
Shortly the life returned to Onestar. Eyes sparking furiously, the WindClan leader snarled, “Let them have their moth-infested hollow. We don’t want it anyway.” Squirrelflight felt an urge to kick Webfoot as he slunk past her but kept her impulse under control. She didn’t want to risk starting the battle anew, especially since Leafpool had been having so much trouble finding herbs.
Now that she was standing still, with blood seeping through her pelt, Squirrelflight could feel the chill of leafbare. Bursts of wind hissed through the hollow, freezing the sticky mess in her fur.
Leafpool had already crept from the medicine den with a bundle of leaves in her mouth. The vaguely bitter taste of leaves was much more pleasant than the blood on Squirrelflight’s teeth, in her nose, running down her chin.
Thornstar didn’t wait for his wounds to be treated before climbing onto the Highledge. “We have won,” he announced. “WindClan will probably not stop their raids, but we have shown them that as a Clan, we will not be defeated. We will not allow them to win. ThunderClan is strong, and we own this forest. Onestar lost a life today. I hope that his is the only one, but this is a victory they will not soon forget.” CHAPTER TENCROWFEATHER Staying low in the brittle, cold grass, Crowfeather tasted the air. His wounds still stung from the last battle, but Onestar was determined enough to try again. “ThunderClan suffered more damage than we did,” he had said. “Hollow victories invite further attempts.”
Crowfeather had been close to killing Squirrelflight. She was the reason Leafpool had returned to the Clans; without her, maybe the two of them could run away. Start a new Clan with our kits.
Crowfeather had been so desperate for his Clanmates’ trust that he had taken another mate. A she-cat who wanted kits badly enough that she believed him from the start. A clingy, demanding cat he could never love. If Leafpool and I could just get away, I would never have to deal with Nightcloud or her squealing kits again…
And, of course, if all else failed, at least WindClan would have enough territory to live comfortably. Ashfoot had suggested traveling to the land farther from the lake, but Onestar had shot this down. He was still angry about ShadowClan and RiverClan’s assumption early in his reign that he would be soft on Firestar’s cats; apparently he wanted to erase ThunderClan from the lake entirely.
“But with more territory, we will have more room to train kits. Try to capture any kits you can,” he had ordered. Mousepebble had chased after a pale cat who had fled with her kits, but the brown warrior had been decisively defeated; the cats had been apprentices, and even the terrified queen could fight; although Mousepebble would have defeated any one alone, Crowfeather recalled the tale of how even the gargantuan Bone had been taken down by a swarm of apprentices.
ThunderClan had now posted a guard, it seemed. Brook Where Small Fish Swim, a tabby from the mountains, sat watch at the main entrance to camp. As the grass snapped beneath the WindClan cats’ paws, her ears flicked. Her gray eyes darted instantly to the front of the patrol cresting the hill, most of whom were obscured by the dense undergrowth of ThunderClan’s forests or still behind the tall rise of the earth.
“Attack!” Brook howled, leaping to her paws. She had been a prey-hunter, not a cave-guard, in the Tribe; her blows did not have much force behind them, though she was as skilled as any cat, since prey was harder to come by and to catch when every pawstep had the potential to send one falling into the abyss.
All stealth abandoned, Onestar bounded into the ThunderClan camp. Warriors had emerged from their den, ready to fight, but even in the few heartbeats Crowfeather had before he was upon them he noticed the hunger in their eyes and the wounds crossing their pelts.
Remembering the force with which Leafpool’s mother had yanked him away before, Crowfeather avoided her, instead aiming for Stormfur, hoping to take the broad-shouldered warrior off guard.
Crowfeather knew he was depleting Leafpool’s resources and giving her more work to do, but maybe if he talked to her later that would only encourage her to leave all this behind.
Stormfur had grown up a RiverClan cat and lived as a cave-guard in the Tribe of Rushing Water; he was a bulky, if starving, tom whose attacks were ferocious but predictable. Crowfeather easily dodged Stormfur’s first few strikes, nipping under the larger tom’s forelegs at the softer skin beneath.
A wide, heavy paw caught his spine; Crowfeather shrieked as Stormfur tore at one of the wounds Sandstorm had given him. Stormfur pulled him closer, crushing him.
But Stormfur didn’t know about one of the strategies that had given WindClan another paw over ThunderClan before. Crowfeather himself had had the idea, in fact. The WindClan warriors had rubbed dock leaves over their fur. The leaves had no medicinal use, so Barkface did not mind using them on cats’ pelts. Crowfeather had recalled using the slippery leaves to free Squirrelflight from a fence before. Apparently Weaselfur and Streamstripe had been saved largely by his plan in the last battle.
Crowfeather pulled himself out of Stormfur’s grasp, clutching the huge tom’s shoulders. Stormfur rolled over to smash him the way badgers often did, but the WindClan cat was faster, and had expected something like this. Springing aside, he was ready to pounce on Stormfur’s now exposed belly.
A powerful hind paw knocked Crowfeather’s muzzle away and made his teeth ache. Crowfeather hissed; Stormfur looked anguished as he snarled, “Did Feathertail’s sacrifice mean nothing?”
This made Crowfeather freeze. “Feathertail meant everything to me,” he hissed. “You think you understand—but you don’t know me at all.” He slammed his head into Stormfur’s jaw; it didn’t seem to do much actual damage, but it did startle Stormfur, who repeatedly shook his head to the side, retreating a few pawsteps.
Crowfeather sprang again, wrapping his paws around Stormfur and biting at his flank. The gray tom’s fur was thick and coarse, but Crowfeather’s teeth were sharp as gorse thorns. He heard his opponent let out a gasp of pain.
Stormfur rolled again, but Crowfeather tucked in his head and rolled with him; the Tribe cat’s weight was painful but bearable. “You’ll join Feathertail soon enough,” threatened Crowfeather, stretching his neck to reach Stormfur’s belly. He didn’t plan to kill his old traveling partner, but if worst came to worst, this would be the surest way to show Onestar how true he was to his Clan.
Stormfur swatted Crowfeather down. “I can’t believe StarClan wanted you. Of all of WindClan—” He broke off. “No, I can’t believe StarClan wanted any of WindClan.”
Some of WindClan, of course, had been uncomfortable with the plan to destroy ThunderClan. Particularly the older warriors, who apparently recalled the same thing being done to WindClan in the old forest by a ShadowClan leader. Crowfeather himself had not exactly been enthusiastic about ruining so many cats’ lives, but Onestar’s word was law.
Crowfeather felt someone grab his tail. “Let go!” he snarled, glancing over his shoulder to see a pale gray cat. Ferncloud, he thought Leafpool had called her. The dappled queen pulled his tail, tip held fast in her jaws.
Pain lanced from his tail tip through his spine. Reflexively he let go of Stormfur; still Ferncloud ground his tail in her teeth. Crowfeather grabbed her face in his right paw and her whiskers with his left, spine aching from the effort. Finally she freed his tail; the tip still throbbed.
Ferncloud hadn’t battled for a long time. Even if he hadn’t known from Leafpool that the gray queen now cared for kits instead of patrolling, Crowfeather could have told she had little experience. She had clearly fought in the last WindClan invasion, but one battle hadn’t done much to hone her dampened skills. Her strikes were clumsy from disuse.
Again, Crowfeather had no intent of killing his enemy, but he realized how difficult that would be while fighting like a true warrior. Maybe this cat would have to die.
Onestar yowled triumphantly from somewhere else in the clearing. “Surrender, or I’ll do it!” Crowfeather and Ferncloud both turned to look, pain shooting once more through his tail. Onestar had Thornstar pinned on the path to the Highledge. The ThunderClan leader’s head stuck out over the edge; his neck was pressed onto the rock, and Onestar could probably finish him off without even using his teeth.
Thornstar looked defiant and tried to rasp a rallying cry, but Brightheart bounded forward. “Don’t kill him!” she growled.
Onestar bared his teeth. “Surrender.”
Brightheart stood below the two leaders, lashing her tail. A black ThunderClan warrior said something; he spoke too quietly for Crowfeather to pick out the words, but his voice held a disparaging tone.
Onestar’s amber gaze glittered like the moon. His pelt was stained red. “Look around you,” he said coldly. “Look at your cats. This is what you’ve done, Thornclaw.” Onestar flicked his tail toward a body on the ground. “This is your fault.”
Thornstar grunted something, but his mouth could barely open. He was running out of breath.
Onestar surveyed the ThunderClan cats. “If you give up half of the territory between your camp and our border, I will end this battle now.”
Thornstar tried to shake his head, but Brightheart bowed hers. “We must.”
Onestar looked amused. “I’m impressed, Thornclaw. Maybe Lostface should have taken over instead. Maybe then your warriors would still be alive.” He shoved Thornstar aside as he hopped onto the ground, motioning for his Clan to leave.
Crowfeather caught Leafpool staring at him, looking terrified. He tried to flash her a gaze that would let her know everything would be fine for her; no WindClan cat would ever hurt her. Not a medicine cat with unborn kits still inside of her—though, he reminded himself, no cat knew she carried the kits. She did look quite heavy compared to her Clanmates, but she was supposed to be healthier; she knew how to take care of herself and avoid illness.
“Well done, Crowfeather,” murmured Onestar. “I saw that back there. You’ll be a WindClan cat yet.” The leader stepped up his pace until he reached the front of the battle party. Crowfeather watched him, wondering how much more he would have to do for this cat. CHAPTER ELEVENSQUIRRELFLIGHTLeafpool pressed the poultice of roots against Squirrelflight’s scratches. “You’ll be okay,” her sister assured her. “These aren’t deep.”
Squirrelflight nodded. “It was Weaselfur again. I think he’s out to get me.”
Leafpool sighed. “At least it wasn’t Tornear or Ashfoot.”
“That’s true.” Squirrelflight wished she could just sit down and talk to her sister about everything that was going on, but Leafpool needed to move on to the next cat; Dustpelt had received some serious flank wounds and reopened a gash on the side of his neck.
At least Dustpelt had fared better than Brackenfur or Rainwhisker. Rainwhisker’s body had been nearly unrecognizable under his own blood, and Squirrelflight had seen the slippery pale gray tabby deliver Brackenfur the killing blow.
Thornstar had appointed Sandstorm his deputy immediately after the battle; he had also told Brightheart that in the future she should place the Clan above his life, to which she had said that losing their leader in addition to their deputy once again would only have ruined them further. “WindClan would only have taken what they wanted anyway.”
Onestar’s blatant disrespect for Thornstar had shown as well. Spiderleg had clearly noticed this, sniping to himself about the ThunderClan leader’s ineffectiveness. “Can’t even control his own sister.”
Thornstar tried to stop Leafpool from using her herbs on him, but she insisted that he needed to heal as much as any cat. He gave in, but afterward he called Squirrelflight and Spiderleg, neither of whom had suffered serious wounds, to hunt with him.
“Don’t strain yourselves,” Leafpool ordered him, deadly serious. “I don’t want any of you risking infection. Or bleeding out. Do you hear me?” Thornstar agreed, but Squirrelflight thought she detected exasperation in his tone.
The grass had been trampled enough that it barely even crunched now. Broken blades littered the ground; the bushes’ icy leaves rattled ominously in the wind. The sun burned brightly in the sky, glittering on the frozen ground where it now filtered down easily through the bare trees above, but the chill breeze countered its warmth.
This is no weather for kits, she thought grimly. Hopefully her Clan would be understanding. And hopefully someone could provide milk. Did Leafpool really have to time things so badly? She was a medicine cat; she should have realized the kits would come during leafbare, and the mountains would be no more pleasant than the forest.
A tiny rustling alerted Squirrelflight to nearby prey. It was an easy catch, but it was only a small vole. Disappointed, she scraped earth over it and sniffed at the ground, hoping it had family nearby, but the ground smelled mostly of frost.
Squirrelflight managed to track down a drowsy squirrel, but by the time she had found it the sun was at its highest point, and WindClan scent was everywhere. Hurrying back to what was still ThunderClan’s land she picked up the vole and padded back to camp with her catch.
WindClan would not be satisfied with this. Any leader willing to publicly announce that he would kill another cat for no reason would not stop at a quarter of the territory he could gain.
Thornstar apparently knew this too; of course, as leader, it was his job to do everything in his power to protect his Clan. Later that day he called a Clan meeting.
“We may have lost this morning,” he croaked, “but we are still together. We mourn our departed Clanmates, but the rest of us are still a Clan. We will not give up our roots.”
Spiderleg chuckled drily but said nothing.
“I know that WindClan will not be finished with today’s victory. They will be back. But we will be ready once more. We’ve beaten them before; we can do it again. StarClan will not let them get away with this.”
“They already have,” muttered Dustpelt, blood still seeping from beneath the poultice on his neck.
Thornstar’s gaze was imploring. “In the meantime…there is unused land farther from the lake.”
“Or there was until we started using it,” Spiderleg complained. “The only good thing we’ve done is take one of Onestar’s lives. He may be Onestar, but he’s not Onelife. That’s you.”
Thornstar bristled; Squirrelflight had seen him flare his nose just like this when he had been frustrated at her during her apprentice days. He kept his temper under control, as he had then, as he meowed, “We will kill only when necessary.”
“It was necessary today,” said Spiderleg, rising to his paws. “If anyone had killed Onestar, we would have won again.”
“We will use the territory away from the lake more,” Thornstar growled, raising his voice to drown out Spiderleg’s complaints. “We have been sending some patrols there, but maybe the solution is to move in that direction. Squirrelflight did our Clan a great service falling into this hole, but maybe it was not meant to be forever.”
A cat or two twitched their ears in laughter at his mention of Squirrelflight; she was a bit embarrassed, but it had been entirely her fault that she had fallen in, and it had been a great camp.
“Maybe Daisy had the right idea,” Sorreltail whimpered guiltily. She had always been a brave cat, but Squirrelflight supposed it was one thing to fight to the death oneself and quite another to allow one’s children to do the same. She would be horrified, she thought, if WindClan killed Leafpool; she couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to lose a kit.
Thornstar still looked nervous on the Highledge. “For now, we will stay. But…StarClan may not provide for us right now.” He looked expectantly at Leafpool. She didn’t meet his gaze. CHAPTER TWELVESQUIRRELFLIGHTLeafpool was unapproachably worried. She had been on edge since the badger attack; Squirrelflight understood why, of course, but Leafpool had only gotten jumpier over time.
Squirrelflight was not comforted by Leafpool’s fears now. Usually it was at least a sign of what was wrong, but now that was obvious. With leafbare this harsh and WindClan invading, ThunderClan could not afford to lose their medicine cat or to exhaust their herb supply, but it appeared both these things would soon happen.
Squirrelflight tried to keep herself busy enough to avoid her worries, but this did not seem possible. Lack of sleep made her reflexes slow and her senses dull; hunger made her hear mice that weren’t there and envy her Clanmates, whose gnawing stomachs Squirrelflight could not feel, though she knew that was ridiculous.
Sandstorm had set to work organizing the Clan so that someone was always hunting, but some fierce warriors were prepared to guard the camp at all times. Squirrelflight was proud of her mother for her new authority, but she also worried that Sandstorm would be a bigger target for Onestar’s warriors.
Much of ThunderClan was alarmed at how thoroughly the WindClan cats relied on Onestar’s orders. Even cats like Ashfoot and Tornear, who clearly disagreed with their leader, had fought viciously in ThunderClan’s camp.
Defeat did not bode well for ThunderClan at all. There was nowhere else in the territory that could be used as a camp. If WindClan attacked again they could be forced out entirely. Squirrelflight had heard a rumor moons ago from Longtail and Mousefur that Tigerstar had been a punishment for ShadowClan allowing Brokenstar to drive off WindClan, so maybe StarClan would punish WindClan for repeating his evils, but Goldenflower had angrily dismissed it, saying that other cats had called Brokenstar a punishment as well and that not every bad thing that happened was a result of StarClan’s wrath.
Squirrelflight could vouch for this. Maybe she had been a mouse-brain at times, but she had done nothing to deserve betrayal by both Bramblestar and Ashfur, and neither had Firestar or anyone else in the Clan.
Of course, Leafpool had admitted that she had been seeing three sharp stars blazing brighter than the rest ever since her excursion with Crowfeather; maybe her kits were StarClan’s way of warning the medicine cat that her transgressions against the code would catch up to her. Hopefully the same would happen to Onestar; Whitetail was expecting, or so Squirrelflight had heard.
Once again Squirrelflight turned up only a small amount of prey. Pouncing made her dizzy, and she padded back to camp with her ears ringing. Sorreltail guiltily ate a bit more than other cats; her kits were looking hungry and sick, Molekit especially.
Leafpool’s amber gaze was dark as she stared unblinkingly from the medicine den. Squirrelflight could feel the pain in her sister’s belly; Leafpool’s head was spinning, too. StarClan, let these kits grow up healthy. I can’t do this alone.
Squirrelflight woke a few mornings later to Leafpool prodding her side. Her sister said nothing, but the urgency in her eyes was clear.
The two cats crossed the clearing and left through the main entrance. Stormfur dipped his head, murmuring a greeting; Squirrelflight told him they were going to search for herbs in territory beyond even where they had previously been hunting.
WindClan had been pushing closer and closer to ThunderClan’s camp. Leafpool had been frantically uprooting all of the comfrey plants in ThunderClan territory, but the plants were dying faster than she could find them.
“They still have Brightheart,” Leafpool reminded her, apparently reading her mind. “She’s as good as I ever was.”
Squirrelflight nodded, hoping Leafpool couldn’t tell she was thinking Brightheart might die in battle. The brown tabby said no more, but Squirrelflight was sure she was thinking nothing good.
“Sorreltail is healthier than most cats right now,” offered Squirrelflight, “and she’s the one who’s going to be giving them milk.” Squirrelflight herself had been trying to keep her weight up, while Leafpool had been eating as little as she could manage, but Sorreltail had also needed extra food to feed her kits.
The two cats’ plan was to be gone for nearly a quarter of a moon. When they returned they would tell ThunderClan that Squirrelflight’s kits had come earlier than expected, and they had been forced to take shelter far from camp.
Leafpool crept along slowly. She was trying to hurry up, but the weight of the kits inside of her hindered her considerably.
The two queens traveled to the edge of ThunderClan’s territory before Leafpool finally stopped.
“We have to keep going,” Squirrelflight whispered. “We can’t get caught.”
But Leafpool’s eyes were shut. “I can’t, Squirrelflight, it hurts.”
“Oh.” Squirrelflight shivered. “Well, we need to hide, at least.”
Leafpool shuddered; Squirrelflight couldn’t fully block out the pain radiating from her sister’s body. “I know.” Squirrelflight helped her sister crawl into the bushes several tail-lengths away. Border patrols had all but stopped on the WindClan side of ThunderClan’s territory; they would be safe enough for the day.
Hopefully all would turn out okay. CHAPTER THIRTEENCROWFEATHEROnestar’s voice rang through WindClan’s camp, stirring the still air, echoing in Crowfeather’s ears. “Today is the final battle. No more will WindClan submit to ThunderClan’s whims. We own their forest, and we will have it ours.” The finality of his words seemed to resonate with several of his cats. Even Crowfeather felt himself swelling with pride. Nightcloud’s green eyes were focused on him; he turned his head aside to watch Onestar as the tabby padded out of the camp, tail high in the air.
The WindClan cats bounded over the hills. Leopardstar had been getting frailer and frailer; she would not lead her Clan into battle now. No cat feared attack from RiverClan.
Crowfeather had known the way by heart ever since he had grabbed Leafpool—all the way back when she was an apprentice—and pulled her back from falling from the edge of the hollow. Now the rest of his Clan had found the best route too.
On guard today was the brown-and-black warrior Crowfeather had often heard ordering cats around at a Gathering. He managed to call out a warning, but the WindClan warriors swarmed the camp again.
Crowfeather made a beeline for the nursery. A tortoiseshell queen blocked his path, snarling. “Get away from my kits!”
Crowfeather halfheartedly swiped at the queen, waiting for an opportunity to run behind her. She was stronger than expected; time spent bearing Nightcloud’s company had led him to underestimate queens.
The tortoiseshell seemed to recognize him. Of course, I’m the traitor who ran off with her medicine cat. Energy surged to his paws. I’m not a traitor anymore! He tried to throw the queen to the ground; she staggered but remained standing. She struck back before she had even fully recovered—caught off guard, Crowfeather was slammed down. Her belly was thin from hunger, but her paws were as powerful as any ThunderClan warrior’s.
The queen was tearing at him now. She wasn’t even that large of a cat; he kicked her jaw and she hissed, flinching away. Back on his feet Crowfeather circled closer to the nursery.
The gray queen who had snapped his tail was no longer inside; he had seen her fending away Webfoot. The path was clear for entering. He scooped up a tortoiseshell kit and realized immediately why the other warriors had been having so much difficulty retrieving them; the kits were at least a couple of moons old and had become too heavy to run with.
The other three kits gave no real resistance; a brown one and a gray one tried to charge him, but they were weak. He spun and dashed out of the nursery as quickly as he could with the struggling, wailing, cumbersome kit in his jaws.
The queen had not left; she seemed hesitant to attack him with her own kit dangling from his mouth. “Don’t you dare,” she growled, fear in her amber eyes.
Crowfeather tried to weave past her again, but the kit was still trying to wrench itself free. The queen snarled—Crowfeather saw the movement begin out of the corner of his eye, but she had the upper paw. He bit down harder on the kit’s scruff as he tumbled to the ground, scrambling back to his paws as the kit screamed.
The queen was livid now. This time Crowfeather released the kit as a bloodied white paw caught his cheek. The queen lashed her tail in the direction of the den; her fur was bushed to twice her size, and she advanced with lips curled back.
Crowfeather braced himself. The queen lunged for his throat. He dodged, but she missed only narrowly. “Where is Leafpool?” she hissed furiously.
Taken aback, Crowfeather froze and asked, “Leafpool is missing?”
The tortoiseshell was still fully engaged in the battle. She swatted forcefully at Crowfeather’s shoulders and head; he hissed again in pain.
“You can’t do this,” she roared, clawing at his throat as he reared back to strike—he was out of range. Crowfeather dove at her shoulders. Take away one leg and she’ll go down. She grunted in surprise.
Stormfur grabbed Crowfeather and pushed him away. “Stay away!” he commanded, amber eyes blazing.
Not sure he could defeat Stormfur head-to-head, Crowfeather wriggled free and pelted into the fray. But Stormfur followed. Crowfeather was the faster cat by far, but in the midst of battle Stormfur had a presence he did not.
The thumping of Stormfur’s paws grew louder again. Crowfeather whirled, ducked, and pounced.
Stormfur’s momentum carried him forward onto Crowfeather, but the lean WindClan cat dug at his fur. Stormfur howled and pounded a paw on Crowfeather’s chest. Crowfeather sank his teeth again into Stormfur’s pelt.
This was going to be a battle to the death, Crowfeather was sure of it. He aimed his attacks at Stormfur’s weakest points, twisting away fervently to avoid being clawed into StarClan.
Tufts of gray fur littered the ground; he had no way of knowing which were his and which were Stormfur’s. He flayed at Stormfur’s flank, dodging the warrior’s enormous claws.
But it seemed this battle would be ended by the leaders yet again: a crunch distracted both toms. Onestar had pushed Thornstar from the Highledge.
“This is our land,” barked Onestar.
Thornstar was not dead; he stumbled to his paws. He looked broken. “StarClan will not allow it. This is ThunderClan’s home, and it will stay ours.”
Onestar bared his teeth triumphantly. “All of this and still you crawl at StarClan’s paws! Thornclaw, look around you. Were this not StarClan’s will it would not have yet occurred.”
Crowfeather’s heart pounded. Leafpool really isn’t here, is she? He imagined she would have rushed to Thornstar’s side to heal him. But it was Thornstar’s one-eyed sister who slunk to him with herbs.
Some ThunderClan cats had died. Spiderleg was one. Crowfeather spotted Streamstripe’s body among them; he would mourn her loss, but he would not miss her. She had been one of the last cats to consider forgiving him.
“It cannot be the will of StarClan to wipe us out,” wheezed Thornstar.
Stormfur swung at Crowfeather again, tossing him to the ground. He heard snarls erupt nearby and lifted his head; WindClan warriors had overwhelmed Stormfur and pinned him to the ground.
“I am not without mercy,” said Onestar. “That is the RiverClan cat from the mountains, isn’t it? ThunderClan may live—if you leave. You’ll know the way better than anyone, I expect.”
Stormfur broke from the WindClan cats’ grasp, but Crowfeather’s frantic digging had done its damage. The broad gray tom bled profusely; his legs were dark and matted, drying into clumps of reddish ooze. ThunderClan could not hope to defeat WindClan now.
Onestar padded luxuriously down the Highledge. “It’s your decision, Thornclaw. Live or die?”
Thornstar glanced darkly at his Clanmates. “I have a responsibility,” he finally said, “to keep them alive.” There was a tangible weight on his words. “You will pay dearly to StarClan for your crimes.”
Onestar chuckled. “You have until sundown to get out of here for good.”
Leaving his words to ripple through the hollow, Onestar beckoned for his Clan to return home. CHAPTER FOURTEENCROWFEATHERAbout halfway between what had once been the border and WindClan’s camp, Onestar raised his tail high and halted, facing his cats.
“Ashfoot, Tornear, Crowfeather, Weaselfur, Gorsetail. Come with me. Webfoot, take the rest of our cats home.”
The light brown tabby veered back toward ThunderClan territory—No, not ThunderClan territory anymore. Our territory, Crowfeather had to remind himself—to the north.
“We’re just going to ensure they’re leaving,” Onestar panted, rounding a hill. “We won’t take them on—but they won’t attack us. Not in this condition.”
Ashfoot looked troubled. Crowfeather had rarely seen his mother so upset; he knew she had been trying to sway Onestar from his warpath for some time, but never had she held such a dark look in her blue eyes.
Crowfeather was exhausted. The battle had been a difficult one, and his paws had been worn down by the day’s travels. But here was his chance to prove to Onestar that he was worthy of WindClan. No cat could deny his faith now.
There were no stepping-stones at this point in the stream. Gorsetail seemed ready to travel toward the lake to find the stones, but Onestar stopped him, saying they had no time for that. Part of Crowfeather was glad to cut down a bit on the walking, but with nightfall had come the harshly whistling wind, and the water chilled his claws and froze on his fur.
Shivering now as the group pushed their way through dying bracken and spindly bare bushes, Crowfeather kept his mouth open to taste the air. ThunderClan scent had been greatly diminished since the battles had begun, but moons of warriors patrolling the forest had left their mark.
Gradually all Clan scent started to dwindle. Crowfeather was certain they were farther from the lake than the Moonpool was; the night bit at his ears and nose, and the moon, swelled almost to half its greatest size, was high in the sky.
Weaselfur, who had taken the lead presumably to show off how great of a tracker he was, stopped short. “Fresh scent.”
Onestar joined him, sniffing at the ground. “Not fresh enough.”
Weaselfur looked angry, but he flicked his ears and his expression returned to simply intent. “What do you mean, not fresh enough? It sounds—uh, smells—like it got here today.”
Onestar shook his head. “The scent is today’s, but it’s fading fast, and it’s only one trail, with no blood to be found. This is not the cats we are after.”
“We can investigate once we know what the rest of ThunderClan is doing,” suggested Crowfeather. “They could have sent someone into our territory. It’s pretty close to the border.” He had a sneaking suspicion who this mysterious wanderer was.
To Crowfeather’s relief they actually caught sight of the ThunderClan cats leaving fairly soon. Farther north the forest thinned, and the WindClan patrol peered from the brush at the ragged, pathetic, broken Clan trudging away over the sharp grass.
“I think I found the trail Weaselfur found,” Gorsetail announced on the way home. Crowfeather felt his heartbeat speed up and hoped his Clanmates wouldn’t notice.
“Are we in a condition to deal with it right now?” sighed Ashfoot. “All of us are exhausted, and we have more territory than ever to take care of.”
“As if ShadowClan will know the difference,” Onestar scoffed. “ThunderClan has been dying off for moons now. It was only time.”
It sounded to Crowfeather as if his leader was having second thoughts. Too late now, he thought grimly. He put his nose to the ground and—
Wrong! Alarm shot through him, making his tail tip ache, but only for a moment. But it’s close. This was Squirrelflight’s scent; it was too harsh, not sweet enough, to be Leafpool’s. Of course, her sweetness was probably the herbs—but that didn’t bother Crowfeather.
He longed for his nest now, but he reminded himself that this would be worth it. He had to push himself to stay walking, to keep going without bounding ahead of his Clanmates. Leafpool would join him, and maybe the two of them would be able to set off on their own again now that her Clan had abandoned her.
Only Gorsetail had energy now; he was a very young warrior and bursting with enthusiasm for everything his Clan would have him do. Crowfeather yawned and allowed the rough-pelted cat to pass him, blinking at the brightness of his white fur.
Squirrelflight’s scent led the patrol across a short plain and into a copse of trees. Steeling himself against the cold, Crowfeather followed Gorsetail into the grove. The ThunderClan scent trails were more numerous here; some were a few days old.
It wasn’t long before the WindClan warriors found Squirrelflight’s den. She was asleep, a pathetic dark ginger crescent of fur next to her tabby-and-white sister.
Then he snarled, “Get out of here!”
The ThunderClan queen whirled with a start, shock flashing in her eyes. Squirrelflight leapt shakily to her paws; she looked as if she could collapse at any moment.
Squirrelflight growled, pulling back her lips; her legs wobbled. She had not been sleeping even as much as her Clanmates.
Onestar shoved his face into Squirrelflight’s, hissing, “Run off to the mountains with your Clan now, or I will kill you.”
Squirrelflight shrank back, looking bewildered. “My Clan—”
Onestar swatted her heavily across the ears, then clawed at her shoulder, shoving her down. “We outnumber you six to one. Get out.”
Weaselfur snapped at Squirrelflight’s hind paws; she jerked them away, but it was a hopeless battle from the start. The two WindClan cats tore at her until she needed all four paws just to stand up.
“Leafpool is dead,” Crowfeather growled. “Your Clan is in the mountains, and you should be too.”
The hatred in her green eyes burned with a ferocity that almost scared Crowfeather; during a better season for the ThunderClan cat he would have expected her to kill him, but he felt safe enough against this starving scrap.
Onestar lashed at Squirrelflight again, and she turned to flee, howling curses as she stumbled through the forest.
After a pause Crowfeather put his nose to the ground and followed the familiar scent of his mate. The other cats followed; from the tread of their paws he thought they must know who else was here. They quickly reached a small clearing—a tabby-and-white cat was asleep here, pressed under the branches of a holly bush.
Onestar tensed as he spotted Leafpool, shooting Crowfeather a look that said very plainly that he was not to blow it now.
Onestar meowed, “What are you doing leading us to that?” He flicked his tail at Leafpool, who had rolled to her paws and now bared her teeth in a frightened snarl.
“Crowfeather,” she whimpered.
He shook his head uneasily, knowing better than to show any sign of weakness with Onestar so close. “I say we kill her,” suggested Weaselfur, glancing at Crowfeather.
Crowfeather knew it was a test, but he stepped forward anyway, pulse beating in his throat. “No,” he meowed.
Onestar gave him a drily appraising look. “Are you planning to join her in the mountains, then?”
Crowfeather shook his head. “She—we can’t kill her. She has…kits.” My kits, he wanted to add proudly. But that would be crossing yet another line.
Onestar stared at Crowfeather as if he had sprouted a second pair of ears. “You’re telling me she has kits inside of her.”
Crowfeather nodded. “I have no love now for a cat as weak as her,” he lied, hoping she would forgive him. “But these kits are half WindClan, too, and they will know the feel of wind in their fur. We can raise them WindClan.”
Onestar stared for several more heartbeats; Crowfeather averted his gaze, staring at his leader’s paws. His fur had dried into little red points. So did mine, he thought.
But after the agonizing wait, Onestar meowed, “How lucky for you.” When Crowfeather raised his head, Onestar added, “You’ve brought us more kits than any other cat in this war.”
Leafpool hissed; she had backed up several paces, but in her weakened state and with kits in her belly she had not turned and run.
“Let’s go. Bring the medicine cat,” he ordered his deputy. Ashfoot nodded, looking a bit relieved.
Crowfeather walked beside Leafpool the whole way back to camp, but she had not forgiven him. She would not look at him. She would not speak.
But Onestar was proud, and that was all that mattered for now. CHAPTER FIFTEENSQUIRRELFLIGHTSquirrelflight could not run; her ankles ached where Weaselfur had bitten them, and her belly still gnawed with hunger. Leafpool, no! was the only coherent thought she could form. She tried to reach to her sister’s mind, but she felt only the same fear and despair.
We’ve always been there for each other, even when I was gone. She could barely walk; how was she running? Pain coursed through her. This was not going to work—she was going to pass out—
Tumbling to the ground, Squirrelflight let out a scream of anguish. Her entire body hurt, she needed food, Leafpool was dead, and her Clan could be anywhere. If we hadn’t left, none of this would have happened. She needed to face up to her responsibilities. If Leafpool had taught her anything it was that carrying through was the most important thing a cat could do.
The WindClan cats had told her ThunderClan was on their way to the mountains. Stormfur is probably alive, then, or maybe it’s Brook.
She pulled herself back to her paws, panting from the effort, and dragged herself a few more paces before collapsing again. This would not do.
With great difficulty Squirrelflight managed to make it to a cluster of bushes. Their dry, brittle, leafless twigs poked at her freely bleeding wounds. She felt like her blood must be fire on their bark.
Her sleep was dreamless, restless. She woke up still tired, longing for her nest back in the sheltered ThunderClan camp.
Fortunately Squirrelflight remembered enough from her trip through the mountains to find the Tribe’s territory, even if she couldn’t reach their camp. She would meet her Clan there. If they ever make it, that is. Her wounds still stung, and her ears rang.
Her travel toward Twolegplace was as uneventful as the first time. Only before I walked with my Clanmates and my friends, and now I’m alone.
She pressed on, stopping to hunt a few times along the way. Twolegplace appeared on the horizon—for a Twolegplace it was quite small, and the nests were mostly lower to the ground.
And she smelled cats.
Heart pounding, Squirrelflight bent to sniff at the scent trail she had found. Scent trails. Her Clanmates’ scents, so familiar and yet somehow painfully nostalgic after only a few days away, flooded her nostrils. There were scents missing, but she didn’t want to dwell on that now. This many cats in Twolegplace couldn’t be difficult to hunt down.
Actually following the smells in Twolegplace was easier said than done. She would have to wait for nightfall to truly track them; for now she would have to make do with hurriedly checking the ground for vague scents.
Squirrelflight leapt onto a fence, remembering ruefully the time she had been caught under one. She had been on a journey with five other cats. Feathertail was dead, Stormfur beaten, Crowfeather her enemy, and Bramblestar an outright traitor. Tawnypelt is the last one of us left, she realized.
A gust of wind nearly knocked her off the fence; she hopped down and found herself staring almost face-to-face with a plump, silver-muzzled tabby. His brown fur was tangled and matted.
His blurry, pale amber eyes narrowed as he stared at Squirrelflight, confused. “I thought you’d gone,” rasped Purdy. “Didn’ you and your other cats go…” He trailed off and blinked again. “What’re you doin’ back here?”
“There’s been trouble in ThunderClan,” Squirrelflight answered, grateful to have found a friendly face, though she remembered how irritating his chatter had gotten before. He meant well, though, and she supposed she had probably been too harsh.
“I heard some cats go by this mornin’. Were they your cats?”
“Yes, my Clan came through here just today. I need to find them.”
Purdy yawned and got to his paws. “You’re not lookin’ too good. If you’d want, I could take you to the Upwalkers. They’ve got this special Upwalker, see, and when you go to ’em you’ll get yourself fixed up right.”
“No, thank you,” said Squirrelflight, pelt pricking a bit. “I’m actually in a hurry. We can talk, but I need to find my Clan.”
“You came to the right cat,” Purdy boasted. Squirrelflight rolled her eyes.
He kept up a conversation as they traveled; she silently thanked StarClan for the distraction, relieved not to have to think much about Leafpool, though she could have used a few breaks from his voice. He didn’t have much license to get her lost this time; she shepherded him along the scent trails as he assured her of his great adventures. “Of course, those were all back in the old days,” he mused wistfully. “Can’t go killin’ foxes with these old bones anymore.”
It seemed ThunderClan had not made good time since entering Twolegplace. Purdy’s stiff joints and Squirrelflight’s own battered body hampered their progress, but the scent trails became stronger and fresher as they crept along.
Squirrelflight and Purdy stopped to rest as the sky darkened. They reached the rest of ThunderClan the next morning just after dawn.
Purdy said farewell and watched them leave. Squirrelflight dipped her head, knowing this would probably be the last time she ever saw the old cat. At least I have my Clan, she thought. Even if Leafpool is gone. CHAPTER SIXTEENSTORMFUR A brisk breeze snapped past Stormfur’s ears; his extremities stung with cold. But Stormfur was better adjusted to the temperature than most of the other ThunderClan warriors. He had thick RiverClan fur and had lived in the mountains for moons.
Certainly he fared better than Thornstar. The brown tabby tom had not been in any state to travel when they had first set out, much less after days of walking across the barren, empty hills toward the mountains. Prey had become scarcer and scarcer; had they been in the Tribe’s territory already Brook could have sniffed out the best places to hunt, but here she was as out of her element as the rest of them.
Stormfur’s shoulders were stiff against the blustering wind; he walked between Thornstar and the rising sun. He wished it felt as warm as it looked; it burned with a fire brighter than any other Stormfur could imagine, but its rays did little to thaw his prickling pelt.
Sorreltail’s kits were struggling to survive. So far none had been lost, but their smaller, thinner bodies and softer paws felt the cold worse than the warriors. Sorreltail and some of the stronger warriors, including Stormfur himself, took turns carrying the kits; right now he was free, instead doing his best to shelter Thornstar from the wind as Brightheart did the same for Squirrelflight.
Tasting the air was useless now; every time Stormfur opened his jaws the wind rushed in, bitter on his lips, bringing the scent of approaching snow.
Mousefur had been lost in battle, and WindClan had made several runs for the kits. Stormfur himself had nearly killed Crowfeather. That traitor.
Stormfur would have given a paw to be able to speak the way he had on his first travel into the mountains. Before his sister’s death, the traveling cats had grown closer to one another. Even insufferable Crowpaw had mellowed after spending time with Feathertail. It had seemed so strange at first for Stormfur to be traveling with cats from other Clans, but before too long they had seemed his friends.
But the ThunderClan cats were ragged and exhausted, and after being driven from their camp, no cat had any small talk to make. There would be no idle conversation now.
The ground became rougher as the cats neared the mountains. They would reach them today; once in the mountains there would be no stopping.
By sunhigh Stormfur and Brook had led the Clan cats up the first peak. Stormfur had taken charge of Poppykit; he could feel the scab on the nape of her neck Crowfeather had left in battle. She weighed him down painfully, but at least he had an excuse not to talk.
Stormfur expected to come across a familiar pathway any time now. He had lived in the mountains for moons, hunted alongside the Tribe cats as if he had been born among them—but the scent of cats met his nostrils before he recognized his surroundings.
Brook’s gray eyes shimmered now with renewed hope. She could say nothing around the shivering brown kit she carried, but Stormfur saw in her face that she knew these scents. He tried to smile but was worried that he could not pick out any individual cats. This is my home, isn’t it?
The smell of sharp, cold water reached his nose, and he caught a faint roar. Clambering onto a higher ledge, Stormfur finally recognized where he was.
“Welcome to the Tribe of Rushing Water,” he croaked, voice cracking.
Slowly, laboriously, he helped the weary warriors limp the last few taillengths until they were in full view of the waterfall before the Tribe’s cave. He could taste the temperature of the cascading water; it should have been ice, but perhaps moving that quickly it had no time to freeze.
Stormfur and Brook went ahead; Brook set Molekit down at the empty-jawed Sorreltail’s paws.
Talon of Swooping Eagle and Night of No Stars sat before the entrance. As Stormfur and Brook approached, Night rolled onto her paws with the beginnings of a snarl on her lips, but she watched warily and flicked an ear.
“We cannot live in the forest,” Stormfur rasped. “ThunderClan has been chased from its home, and Brook and I belong here anyway. We have come to ask for your shelter; this leafbare promises to be harsh.”
Night and Talon shared an uneasy look. Eventually Night turned back to Stormfur and spoke. “Stoneteller might not be thrilled, but he would not turn away cats in need. We will help you.”
The kits, particularly Poppykit, mewled as the warriors dragged them into the cave, squirming as frigid water splashed their pelts. Molekit hardly responded; Sorreltail seemed alarmed by this, but Stormfur had no experience with kits.
Brook had implied that in the Tribe, raising kits was just about every cat’s business. Certainly they seemed willing enough to help; Sorreltail kept close to her kits, but three Tribe cats joined her in nosing the kits’ fur the wrong way and trying to rub them warm.
“You’re back,” Stoneteller said by way of greeting.
Stormfur dipped his head, feeling out of place as he remembered cats did not do that here. “Yes. We need shelter.”
“The Tribe of Endless Hunting warned me there might be visitors.” Stoneteller’s amber eyes glinted strangely. “They spoke of storms. And here you are.”
Stormfur’s pelt ruffled, but he wasn’t sure what to say. All he could think of was to deny any harmful intentions, but that might only make him sound guilty.
But Stoneteller closed his eyes and nodded, rocking his shoulders forward. “Sometimes it seems the storm will never end, doesn’t it? The Tribe of Endless Hunting—well, stay as long as you need. A tree may shed a few leaves, but it will always be a tree. Always tall, always strong.” He had stopped nodding before he had finished his first sentence, but the old tabby tom now simply held stone-still, eyes closed, leaning into the air. Stormfur waited, but Stoneteller said no more, and eventually Stormfur walked away, leaving Stoneteller sitting alone, unmoving, unreadable. CHAPTER SEVENTEENLEAFPOOLCrowfeather had been here when Leafpool had fallen asleep.
It had been yet another restless night. She had tried to reach out to Squirrelflight, but she wasn’t sure whether she had been successful. Mostly she had seen mountains and felt the cool, heavy stone beneath her pawpads. Hopefully that meant Squirrelflight was safe somewhere in their jagged peaks, but she didn’t trust herself not to muddle her own thoughts with Crowfeather.
The black queen Nightcloud had not been happy at Leafpool’s arrival. Many WindClan cats had snickered amongst themselves, but Nightcloud, peering from the nursery, had given her a look that clearly stated she would love nothing more than to drown Leafpool, claws at her throat, choking her in the icy waters of the lake.
Leafpool slept in the elders’ den. Crowfeather and Barkface had insisted on allowing her a more insulated den than the gorse bush Onestar had first drily suggested. She was glad Nightcloud had not been around to hear that conversation, though Barkface and a few warriors had done more to convince Onestar by reminding him of the potential for new blood in the Clan than Crowfeather had with his whining.
He seemed, however, to be desperately trying to fit Leafpool into his life again. At night he had been waiting for darkness and then joining her, whispering about how they could leave again, and that the two of them had never fit in since returning anyway.
He had not apologized.
Tonight was the night of the half moon. Leafpool sighed and rose to her paws; walking had become more and more difficult as her kits had grown in her belly. She was definitely having more than one. Crowfeather had suggested naming them after WindClan’s territory. “Heatherkit. Hillkit. Cloudkit. Skykit. Breezekit.” She wasn’t so sure she liked those names.
He had hurriedly shot down “Firekit” and “Squirrelkit,” saying, “The only thing those names will get you is a claw to the ears. Trust me, you’re much safer sticking to our names.”
Weaselfur was at her side the moment she left the den. The white-pawed warrior had latched on tightly to Onestar’s rule and seemed to be doing all he could to make his leader happy, including hovering around Leafpool like a light-starved moth. She could feel his breath; it rippled her fur and made her uncomfortable about his proximity, though at least it warmed her pelt a bit.
Barkface also looked at her from across the clearing, but she had known him for a long time; he had seemed worried about Onestar’s battle plans since the tabby tom had been appointed on Tallstar’s deathbed. His watchful green gaze was more reassuring than frightening—he would be one of her staunchest defenders here.
Trying to block out the sound of Weaselfur’s shivering and the brush of his whiskers against her spine, Leafpool crossed to Onestar’s den, a small hollow crack in a boulder. The leader was curled in a mossy nest, tail over his nose.
Weaselfur shook his head sarcastically as Leafpool began to speak. “Hello, Onestar,” she mewed, voice flat and resigned.
His amber eyes snapped open, sparking with anger for a heartbeat; he lifted his head, lips pulled just far enough that the tips of his long canine teeth protruded. “Yes, ThunderClan?”
Stung, Leafpool jerked back her head. The words on her tongue slipped away, and she searched for what she had been planning to say. “Moonpool,” she managed. “I—tonight there’s the moon. A half moon. I’m still a medicine cat, so—”
“No.” Onestar tucked his muzzle back under his tail; he looked warm. The boulder still whistled with wind slashing in through its entrance, but he didn’t seem to have kicked his moss about during the night; he had had plenty of time to heat up.
Leafpool swallowed, took another pace forward, and tried again. “Onestar, I am still the medicine cat of ThunderClan. I need to speak to Star—”
“Do it on your own time.” This time Onestar yawned and rested his chin on top of his tail.
“Tonight is my own time.” Her forelegs tingled; she recognized this feeling from long ago—this was why she had been so sure to follow authority. She was going to be sick—
“Not the Moonpool,” Onestar grunted, not raising his head. “StarClan. If they want to talk to you, they will.”
“But why can’t I just go tonight?” she pleaded, feeling her throat stiffen.
“You’re a smart cat. Figure it out.” Pelt disheveled from sleep, Onestar promptly stood and whisked past her; he failed to disguise his shivers in the wind.
Weaselfur still breathing down her neck, Leafpool kept her head low and slunk toward Barkface’s den. His green eyes were knowing as she approached.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured somberly. “Onestar’s word is law here.”
Weaselfur let out more air through his nose now; not sure if she cared what emotion he was feeling, Leafpool edged away. He groaned and moved closer to her again.
Barkface stared at the younger cat. “You should probably be out on patrol,” he said, turning and padding into his den. Leafpool followed; Weaselfur tried to enter, too, but Barkface looked him straight in the eye and growled, “Go hunting now. The prisoner will not escape under my watch.”
When Weaselfur had gone, Barkface sat down. His muzzle was flecked with gray, and his entire body looked tired. “I’m sorry I have not had the time to properly apologize.”
Leafpool averted her gaze.
“I should have done more to stop him,” Barkface admitted. “Onestar believed this was the only natural step to take as leader. Many of us are not happy with his actions, but I confess freely that I did not do enough.”
“Then help me,” Leafpool begged. “I want to go to the Moonpool, and then I want to join my Clan.”
Barkface’s eyes clouded. “I cannot.”
Leafpool bristled. “Are you on my side or not?”
“I cannot betray my leader,” he growled warningly. “I deeply regret my Clan’s actions, but they are still my Clan, first and foremost. I cannot ignore his word; it would be as grave a sin as those he has committed.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, nose burning. “Helping a cat is not the same as killing off an entire Clan.”
“Nonetheless, I cannot.” He looked sorrowful. “Leafpool…I will talk to StarClan about you. But to help you escape now would be to turn my back on everything we as warriors stand for. You must know this. And to travel even to the Moonpool in your condition would be far too great a danger for me to allow it anyway,” he added.
Barkface did not try to make any idle conversation; he trudged mournfully past her, leaning in the wind, and as the kits moved in her belly, she realized that she truly had no hope left. CHAPTER EIGHTEENSQUIRRELFLIGHTThe moon was a semicircle tonight. Squirrelflight stared bleakly up at it. The waterfall obscuring the cave’s entrance spattered her flank with water, but the air was still.
“Warmer night,” Night offered. Her pitch-black fur was streaked with mud; apparently during leafbare the Tribe cats were slightly less meticulous in washing off in the falls. Squirrelflight had chosen to blame her hunting inefficiency on her ginger pelt, though she knew part of it was that she was unaccustomed to the mountains.
Tall, dark clouds blurred out many of the stars. “Tonight, my sister would have gone to talk to StarClan,” Squirrelflight whispered. “I think she’s alive. She’d have visited me if she weren’t.”
Night looked curious. “This might be insensitive, but…how do you know that? Do your—StarClan—visit all of your warriors?”
“They can. Leafpool would.” Squirrelflight shivered as a slight breeze swirled past. “Mostly they only talk to medicine cats and leaders, but they talked to—well, to—to Tawnypelt.” With Bramblestar a traitor, Crowfeather a killer, and Feathertail long dead, none of them were fit to mention now.
Night stretched her neck, curving her head to the side. “I hope your sister is okay wherever she is. Possibly she is lost in Twoleg space.”
“Twolegplace,” Squirrelflight corrected her automatically, then remembered that Night of No Stars had probably never seen anything made by Twolegs in her life. “I mean, yeah, she might be.” The scent of heather had been plaguing her for days. “There’s a cat who lives there named Purdy who will help her if she is.” No need to mention Purdy’s inefficiency.
Night’s green eyes still glimmered in the hazy moonlight. Squirrelflight thought she looked like she had something to say, but the black she-cat closed her jaws tightly against the air.
After a minute or two had passed, Squirrelflight broke the silence again; “Looks like storms are gathering.”
Night nodded. “The high clouds are collecting,” she agreed. “But it is safe inside our cave. Warmer than your trees.” There was a hint of playfulness to her tone, and Squirrelflight was reminded painfully of her first journey. Night had been on the run from the Tribe, desperate to be allowed back, and had helped take Stormfur prisoner. But the gray warrior had spoken well of her during his time in ThunderClan.
“It must be very unsettling to be forced from your forest,” Night murmured. “I cannot imagine what it would be like to be driven from this mountain. It has been my home since I was born. And you—you fought for your home. I have not done even that.”
Squirrelflight wanted to tell Night that it was okay, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “We’ll survive.”
“Yes. We are honored to be your caretakers. But I must warn you that leafbare is no easy time for us, either.”
Somewhere in the distance lightning flickered. Squirrelflight flinched in surprise. “I know. I was here in leafbare once before.”
Night looked slightly abashed. “I remember that,” she said quietly. “But that—it was no greenleaf, don’t get me wrong, but it was a warmer leafbare than most. This season does not bode pleasant hunting.”
“We’ve fought through terrible leafbares before,” Squirrelflight insisted, failing to speak with conviction. “ThunderClan is strong.”
“You are very strong,” she agreed.
Squirrelflight shivered again; the mountain air chilled her scars. The two cats lapsed into silence again.
Soon they spotted a returning hunting patrol. Crag, Jag, Brightheart, and Brook each brought a load of freshkill to the pile they had been gathering in the cave. Apparently extra freshkill was usually not caught; the Tribe fed itself for the day, and that was it. But with so many mouths and the beginning of leafbare it was becoming more important to ensure an oversupply.
Brightheart and Squirrelflight dipped their heads to each other; Night watched, vaguely amused, and ducked experimentally, looking quite awkward.
“Good catch,” Squirrelflight offered.
“Thank you,” Brook mewed over her shoulder. The other cats acknowledged her with flicks of their ears and tails. Sorreltail nudged two mice toward her kits; Poppykit ate eagerly, but the others had to be coaxed. Squirrelflight wondered if Leafpool’s kits had been born—She is alive, she thought stubbornly. She must be.
Night yawned loudly. “I think it might be time to sleep,” she mumbled, stretching and padding away. Squirrelflight followed guiltily, glancing at the cave’s entrance. Crag twitched his whiskers at her and went to take her place at the mouth.
Squirrelflight found herself in a dazzling forest. The trees were bare, but the floor was carpeted with soft, shimmering leaves, jade green and comforting on her paws over the crumbly, pebbly, starry ground.
Before her was Leafpool. Squirrelflight shouted in alarm. “No! You can’t be dead!”
Her sister’s amber eyes were round as moons. “I’m not dead,” she whispered. “Squirrelflight. Are you safe?”
“We made it to the mountains, Leafpool! Where are you?”
“WindClan,” her sister muttered. “But—you made it.”
“They told me you were dead.” Squirrelflight rubbed her head against her sister’s cheek. “But everything will be okay. Once we can travel, we’ll come get you.”
Leafpool hesitated. “Is it safe?”
“It will be,” Squirrelflight promised. “Maybe not now, but one day. I will not abandon you, Leafpool. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Leafpool’s eyes swam with stars. “Don’t worry about me. They aren’t going to harm me. I’ll be safe.”
She licked her sister’s shoulder, worried that the dream could end at any moment. They hunted together in StarClan. Squirrelflight could taste the prey in her jaws, plump and delicious.
The three stars in the sky shone for her now, and both cats woke sure that one day, Leafpool’s wish would come true, and things would be set right. CHAPTER NINETEENLEAFPOOL“That’s all of them,” Barkface murmured. Leafpool breathed a sigh of relief, allowing the now-broken stick to fall from her jaws. Panting, she craned her neck to look at the three kits.
Barkface sniffed the kits; Leafpool could smell fear-scent. “What’s wrong with my kits?” she asked, horrified. “What happened?” Still-births had happened before; was one of her new kits dead?
“Nothing,” he grunted, sounding insincere. Leafpool pushed herself onto her forepaws and scrabbled to face her kits.
A black kit and a small gray kit lay on the moss, breathing and making soft noises, but the golden kit beside them was still and silent. Barkface began licking the kit, rough tongue moving it back and forth. Leafpool nosed her kit; Barkface recoiled as she shoved her face in front of his.
After a few more terrifying heartbeats of licking, Leafpool felt the little kit’s body heave. It shouted much louder than she had anticipated, squealing to announce that it had not died. Barkface nodded evenly, narrowing his eyes at the gray warrior.
Leafpool felt a pang of disappointment as she realized none of her kits were ginger. Guess there go my names. She curled her tail around them; they tried to wriggle underneath.
Crowfeather’s blue eyes shone with a fierce pride, but all of his body language suggested he was uncomfortable. “So we can name them Skykit and Sunkit,” he meowed. “And Breezekit for the black one.”
Leafpool shook her head. “Lionkit. Didn’t you hear him roar?”
Crowfeather stared at her for a moment, then sighed. “Very well.”
“And Jaykit—he looks like you,” she mewed. At the start of her sentence she had spoken fondly, but by the end she thought her voice had become scared and empty. “And for the she-kit, do you remember where we used to meet?”
Crowfeather paused, then answered, “The holly bush.”
Leafpool nodded. “Hollykit. Ferncloud had a kit named Hollykit, too; I think it’s only fair that we honor her.”
“Sure. Go with those.” Crowfeather still sounded a bit uncertain.
“You will live in the nursery now,” Barkface told her. “Onestar still will not let you patrol or hunt, but you will care for your kits.”
“I’ve been eating parsley,” Leafpool confessed.
“Has it not worn off?” the WindClan medicine cat asked incredulously. “You haven’t been taking it from my stores, so it should not be a problem.”
“Right.” Leafpool tried to lift herself to her feet, but she was still weak, and pain buzzed in her legs.
Crowfeather, who had not spoken for some time, opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something. But after a tense wait, he simply shut it again, turned, and walked stiffly from the den.
“StarClan…gave me a prophecy.” Barkface fixed Leafpool with his eyes. They were a deep emerald green, dark and shadowed.
“‘There will be three, kin to the cat with fire in his pelt, who hold the power of the stars in their paws,’” he recited. “‘All storms pass, and all nights end. Once the fire is extinguished, the forest will return. A tree may shed its leaves, but it is still a tree. The storm will return in its time, but for now all is calm.’”
Leafpool felt her fur begin to fluff. “Did—did any cat say anything more?”
Barkface thought for a moment. “No. StarClan rarely explains their prophecies. But I feel I know its meaning now.”
Leafpool looked back at her kits, tiny and helpless, shivering and squeezing under her tail. “Firestar’s grandkits.”
“These three kits hold power no cat before has ever dreamed of. ThunderClan will return, and for now, everything will turn out okay.”
Leafpool’s remaining strength seemed to leave her. “I miss my Clanmates.”
“As you should. But ThunderClan will be okay.”
Gazing at her kits, Leafpool saw an image of three shining stars, brighter, fiercer, stronger than any others in the sky, reflecting in their pelts.
You will carry on Firestar’s legacy. You will be the flame that saves us now. StarClan, give them hope. |
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:37:41 GMT -5
 CHAPTER TWENTYHOLLYKIT
“Wait, Lionkit, come back!” Hollykit wriggled out of the nursery, Jaykit close behind her. “We’re coming.”
Shrugging guiltily at Rushtail, whose blue eyes were narrowed in suspicion, Hollykit hurried after her brother.
Jaykit huffed. “We can’t go there, Lionkit.” The golden kit tromped into the medicine den, where he was promptly ushered back out by a very stressed-looking Barkface. Nightcloud’s kits—their denmates—were inside that den, Hollykit knew, but Nightcloud had warned them to stay away.
Dejected, Lionkit slunk back over to his littermates. “D’you think we should wait for them?”
“Why bother?” said Hollykit, swishing her tail. “They’re no fun anyway.”
Jaykit added, “I tried to talk to Shrikekit before he left, and he told me to go eat a bramble. We’re better off without them.”
Lionkit looked uneasy, but the call of adventure overcame his doubts. He marched away from the medicine den, tail held high. “Let’s go play moss ball,” he said a little too loudly. Jaykit groaned.
WindClan’s camp—“where StarClan reached down a paw to scoop away the earth,” Morningflower had said—was ringed by dense bramble and gorse. But since the thorns had not grown naturally in their protective shell, WindClan warriors had had to mold them into place and hope that the plants would eventually take hold. Prickly and painful, the barrier had proven a difficult task to complete, and Lionkit had been searching for almost a moon now for a place where the boundary had a large enough gap for a kit to climb through.
Glancing back one more time at the medicine den, Lionkit flattened his ears and slunk through the tall grass. The brambles rattled where Hollykit supposed he was already climbing through. Peering through the gap, which had been widened by his shoulders, she called softly, “Wait for Jaykit!”
“I can do it just fine,” he snapped, prompting hisses of “Shh!” from both of his siblings. He shoved his head against Hollykit’s side as he passed her, tentatively pawing at the barrier.
“Don’t get hurt,” Hollykit whispered. He kicked a hind paw in her direction and struggled through the bush, letting out a few grunts as his fur caught in it. She followed.
The grass out here was taller than in most of the camp, some of it reaching above Hollykit’s ears. She knew the warriors’ paws had beaten it down, flattening it to the ground, but she had not realized how drastically they had changed it.
Jaykit had his mouth open, tasting the air. Hollykit tried to imitate him, but she could not detect any difference, except that the smells of her Clanmates were a bit less strong.
“Bet Skykit and Breezekit would have liked it,” Lionkit muttered with a dirty look at Jaykit.
Wrinkling his nose, Jaykit stalked away in a different direction. After a brief moment of indecision, Hollykit pelted after Jaykit, knowing Lionkit would follow her.
“Hold on, you can’t just leave us,” she whispered. Jaykit shrugged and put his nose to the ground. He could not see, but he had apparently picked something up; sniffing where he had sniffed, Hollykit caught a whiff of the strange scent some of WindClan’s warriors often brought back from their patrols.
Marveling at the strange leafed plants out here, Hollykit stared up at the sky. It looked the same as it had from camp, but without the encircling gorse bushes, something about it felt bigger.
And she felt bigger, too. Is this what being an apprentice is like?
Voices from the camp were still audible, but the kits ignored them. Jaykit eventually led them to a hole in the ground.
After a pause, Lionkit said, “Exciting.”
Jaykit leaned toward the tunnel, breathing deeply. “That’s where the tunnelers go down. Can’t you feel the air?”
Hollykit joined him at the mouth of the hole. “It’s a little cooler,” she offered. Lionkit darted forward, touched a paw to the exposed earth, and hopped back.
Jaykit looked frustrated. “The air in there is—old,” he insisted. “It’s old, and it wants us.”
Lionkit gave Jaykit a sideways look. “Are you sure you don’t need to go in the medicine den, too?”
Jaykit lashed his tail, rattling the grass. “Maybe you just can’t smell.”
“You know I can smell. I can smell you,” Lionkit pointed out. He put his face to Jaykit’s shoulder, but the gray kit pulled away.
“Don’t touch me,” he ordered. “I don’t like you coming out of nowhere.”
“Sorry.”
Hollykit padded toward the hole, setting her paws down on the dry ground. “It feels weird.” She had expected it to be soft and maybe damp, even muddy like the camp had been at the beginning of newleaf.
Jaykit took another deep breath and brushed past her into the hole. “This tunnel goes really deep.”
Suddenly Jaykit backed up. “Someone’s coming,” he mewed.
Three cats emerged from the tunnel before the kits could get away. Tornear’s dark amber eyes flashed. “What are you doing out here?”
“We didn’t mean to,” Lionkit wailed, huddling behind Jaykit.
Ashfoot lifted Jaykit into the air, meowing, “Back to camp.”
Hollykit avoided Mottlenose’s jaws as she reached to pick her up, but she allowed the tabby warrior to herd her toward the camp entrance. One day she would be an apprentice, and all three of them would be able to explore their territory together. She could wait. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEHOLLYKITGreenleaf had come. Of course, where Hollykit lived, there was no foliage overhead, but Leafpool had spoken fondly of the trees. Lionkit, Harekit, Heatherkit, and Jaykit sunned themselves just outside the den. “Lazy lumps,” Hollykit teased, prodding Lionkit and springing away. He just grunted, flopped his tail, and tapped a limp paw on the ground in her direction, needle claws poking from between tufts of golden fur. Hollykit nosed Jaykit. “Not even going to complain?” Jaykit inched away. Kestrelpaw galloped past the kits, a bundle of leaves in his jaws. He had only recently become Barkface’s apprentice. Hollykit had wondered at first how a cat so scatterbrained could be allowed charge of the Clan’s medicine supply, but he seemed to take his duties seriously, at least. Hollykit herself had always fancied being a medicine cat. It seemed much more important for one cat to heal an entire Clan than to claw at a few enemies; Leafpool had gently encouraged her. With Kestrelpaw’s apprenticeship, however, this had become impossible. Barkface had seemed interested in the possibility of training Hollykit in medicine during her free time, though, so Hollykit had started tagging along with Kestrelpaw when he performed his in-camp duties. Today Kestrelpaw had brought catmint for Nightcloud’s kits. Barkface’s horizontal tail warned both younger cats to stay clear of the sick kits as he nudged the mouthwatering leaves toward the four nests in the back of the den. Breezekit, the strongest and healthiest of Nightcloud’s kits, stared sullenly out at Hollykit. She remembered him sniffing disdainfully at her, and it took all her concentration to avoid scowling at the kit. He’s in pain, she reminded herself. I don’t have to like him, but he’s in pain.Skykit’s gray pelt rippled as she convulsed, hacking. Barkface frantically picked out and fed her an herb Hollykit didn’t recognize. Swiftkit, a fuzzy black she-kit, fell asleep after eating some catmint, and Shrikekit, slightly paler gray than Crowfeather, followed suit. Every time Hollykit looked at Breezekit his dull amber gaze was directed at her. Kestrelpaw appeared to be thinking. For once. Eventually he mewed, “Hollykit, do you want to do more apprentice duties right now, so you can have a head start?” “Yes!” She bounced to her paws excitedly. Now was her chance both to prove herself and to escape Breezekit’s accusing glare without being rude. Kestrelpaw grinned. “Okay. So Rushtail’s been having a tick problem, and Morningflower says it’s gotten so bad even Webfoot won’t go near him. Can you put mouse bile on all his ticks for me?” “Oh.” Ticks were not Hollykit’s first idea of medicine, but then again, Whitetail had made a big deal of the one on Antkit’s ear, so maybe they were important. “What’s mouse bile?” Kestrelpaw led her past several of the sweeter-smelling herbs and pointed a paw at a thick leaf that curled in on itself. Cupped in the leaf was a yellowish liquid Hollykit identified as the source of the pungent smell in the den. “I’m not touching that,” she said defiantly. Kestrelpaw’s blue eyes widened pleadingly. “Are you sure?” Hollykit looked from Kestrelpaw to the foul liquid and back. “Well, okay,” she sighed. He demonstrated with a clean leaf how she should carry it and told her to dab it onto every tick in Rushtail’s pelt and search for more on Webfoot and Morningflower. Hollykit passed Nightcloud on her way out; the black queen bumped against her, nearly knocking her down, and she fumbled the leaf. Yuck, she thought as the mouse bile spilled a bit. She carried the rest to the elders’ den, one of the many badger setts in camp; Rushtail and Morningflower sprawled in the sun just in front of the entrance. Apparently Webfoot had not wanted to give up the life of a warrior entirely; after wounds suffered in an accidental run-in with a fox, he had been forced to retire, nursing an infection in his shoulder and a set of gashes that Barkface said would never heal properly, but he had gone on a hunting patrol with Crowfeather and Whitetail—Heatherkit and Antkit would soon be out of the nursery and no longer required milk, so Whitetail had offered herself to hunt every few days to feed the Clan’s many kits. Rushtail greeted Hollykit with a grimace. “You’re not Kestrelpaw.” Hollykit placed the leaf gently between her paws. “I have mouse bile,” she announced, gagging on the taste that lingered on her tongue. Rushtail snorted and mumbled something Hollykit didn’t make out. Morningflower glared reproachfully at the creamy brown tom. He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Get it over with, thunder.” Hollykit was confused, but she did as Kestrelpaw had instructed, covering each of Rushtail’s ticks with the disgusting bile. Every few touches, Rushtail would cringe, exaggerating his distaste for her job. When Hollykit was sure she had found all of his ticks she turned to Morningflower, who assured her that she had none. “Rushtail doesn’t watch where he’s sleeping.” Her pale amber eyes sparkled impishly. “Go on,” Rushtail grunted, “get out of here.” Startled by his hostility, Hollypaw opened her mouth to protest, but he snapped his jaws at her. She scrambled away and went to rub her paw off on moss; Morningflower reprimanded Rushtail, but he slunk into the elders' sett, ignoring the pale tortoiseshell’s words. Lionkit and Harekit had not moved; Heatherkit played a spirited game of mossball with Kestrelpaw in the nursery while Jaykit crouched nearby, ears twitching fervently as he tried to track the moss’s progress. As Barkface’s voice called angrily for Kestrelpaw, the mottled brownish tom squashed the wad of moss onto the ground and sprinted past Hollykit. “You smell disgusting,” Jaykit informed her, grayish nose crinkling. “Thanks.” Hollykit wiped her paw again, this time on Heatherkit and Kestrelpaw’s squished moss wad. “Oh no you don’t!” Heatherkit pounced on Hollykit, and the two began sparring, moss tearing beneath their feet. Only one thing occurred to Hollykit that might have deterred her from playing the game: this would make more work for Kestrelpaw, one of only three apprentices in the Clan. But not today. He had tricked her into rubbing the vile liquid over Rushtail’s pelt so he could goof off in the nursery—he wasn’t even a kit anymore. You’re welcome, Kestrelpaw. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOJAYKIT Today’s sunrise had brought with it a brisk wind that tugged at Jaykit’s ears and threatened to topple him over. “I don’t know how you’re not cold,” Lionkit whispered. Jaykit could hear Leafpool licking down the uneven fur on his brother’s head. “Don’t make my fur wet,” he whined. “It’s cold.” Hollykit shushed him as Jaykit sniffed, “I’ve been colder.” “I was there,” Lionkit reminded him. “That doesn’t make this not cold.” “Let all cats six moons on join before the Tallrock for a Clan meeting,” Onestar called. Jaykit wrenched away from Leafpool, who had nosed at him and begun to smooth his fur, and followed his siblings, ducking so that Hollykit couldn’t rest her tail on his shoulder. When the cats in the camp had assembled, Onestar announced, “Several of WindClan’s kits are now old enough to become apprentices. Hollykit, Jaykit, Heatherkit, Lionkit, please step forward.” Jaykit carefully padded around Harepaw to sit beside Heatherkit and his littermates. “Hollykit, Lionkit, and Heatherkit are to train as moor-runners and Jaykit as a tunneler,” said Onestar. “From this day forth, until you have received your warrior names, you will be known as Hollypaw, Lionpaw, Heatherpaw, and Jaypaw.” He paused for a moment; Jaypaw felt his chest swell with pride. Onestar was thinking of the time he had been selected to mentor Whitetail; someday Jaypaw would be a warrior of her caliber. Though, he reflected, she was a moor-runner. “Owlwhisker, you will mentor Lionpaw. Teach him to rise to his full potential.” Owlwhisker approached Lionpaw and Jaypaw thought he might have licked his head. “Crowfeather, you will mentor Heatherpaw. Teach her to…” Onestar paused, and Jaypaw knew Crowfeather was thinking of Leafpool and of cold winds; he felt cool, smooth stone beneath his paws. “To see the value in all, as you do.” There was an underlying tone of warning to the leader’s voice that Jaypaw did not fully understand. Once Crowfeather had joined Heatherpaw, Onestar continued. “Ashfoot, you will mentor Jaypaw. Teach him to know what he does not know.” Jaypaw bristled, then hopped to his paws in surprise as the deputy’s nose touched his. “I’m sorry, Jaypaw,” she murmured. “I thought you would be expecting it.” “Weaselfur, you will mentor Hollypaw. Teach her to serve her Clan before all else.” The warrior’s paws pattered on the ground for a moment, and then the Clan began chanting their names. “Lionpaw! Heatherpaw! Jaypaw! Hollypaw! Lionpaw! Heatherpaw! Jaypaw! Hollypaw!” He listened for his parents’ voices among the throng and heard both of them ringing proudly through the wind. “What are we doing first?” Lionpaw mewed, bouncing to his paws. He was much larger than Jaypaw, and the sound of his paws resonated through the ground. Jaypaw remembered Whitetail saying that Lionpaw would one day be too big for most of the tunnels WindClan had created, though he would surely always fit in the one Jaypaw had sniffed out. Ashfoot’s long, sturdy tail curled over Jaypaw. “On the first day, apprentices tour the territory. It will be difficult to traverse the whole territory, but we will cover much of it.” “We have a larger territory than the other Clans,” Weaselfur added. Jaypaw was not sure he liked Weaselfur. He thought often of battles and ferocity, never of wisdom or logic. “It’ll be second nature to you, thunder,” he added, slightly quieter. Jaypaw wondered for what must have been the millionth time what the warrior meant by calling—who had he been speaking to this time?—thunder. Not every cat used the term, but no one would explain. Leafpool had seemed particularly upset when he had asked her. Ashfoot had definitely stiffened at Weaselfur’s words, and Jaypaw thought Owlwhisker might have, too. “We will go as a patrol,” she said tersely. “We should not have any trouble, but one can never be too safe.” Hollypaw, Heatherpaw, and Lionpaw marveled at the sights outside the camp. I thought Hollypaw said it was nothing special. Their conversation irked him; if only the cats in his dreams would teach him to fight. Mostly he had seen a spotted she-cat who smelled like leaves. She had shown him a small, circular pool of water and told him to find his heritage and follow his destiny. “Most of what we show you up here will not apply to the tunnels,” Owlwhisker mewed briskly. “Not much down there.” Weaselfur snorted. “He’s not missing anything.” Jaypaw bristled, but Ashfoot spoke before he had a chance. “The tunnels are an excellent addition to our territory that allow us to travel unseen below the ground and to flush rabbits from their burrows, but there is no benefit in attempting to lead apprentices through the whole system on their first day.” “Do you smell anything cool?” Lionpaw asked him. Jaypaw sniffed at the ground. “I smell food, I guess.” He ignored a chuckle from Weaselfur. After some time, Jaypaw caught the sound of running water. “This direction is the Moonpool,” Ashfoot explained from somewhere off to his right. “Across the stream is a forest. A lot of that forest is part of our territory, but it is difficult enough to bring you this far on what should be your first time more than a few tail-lengths from camp.” His mentor led the patrol down the length of the stream to the lake. He shivered slightly at the sound of the water lapping against the shore, shaking the reeds and cattails. “Thought you weren’t cold,” Lionpaw mumbled; Jaypaw decided not to justify this with a response. Couldn’t Lionpaw feel how old the water was? By the time the patrol returned to camp, Jaypaw had decided WindClan’s territory—with the possible exception of that mysterious forest part—was just a bunch of empty hills. Nothing of substance could be found out here. It’s all underground, he told himself. My destiny is down there.He curled up in his mossy nest and waited. Maybe he would see the spotted cat tonight. She would be proud. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREEGRAYSTRIPE The skinny rogue audibly released a large breath of air. They grabbed their dropped mouse and ran away, pawsteps irregular and loud enough that the trees shook over Graystripe and Millie’s heads. He was so close he could taste it. His claws throbbed; the wind caught in his throat. Millie raced by his side. Thank you, he wanted to say again, and I love you. But now was not the time for words. The two cats splashed through a wide, shallow brook. He was reminded irresistibly of his time in RiverClan. I’m coming back, Firestar. I’m coming back again.Graystripe surged up the hill. I am a ThunderClan warrior.He halted at the top, panting. “Are you ready for this?” Millie purred and rubbed her cheek against his jaw. “Graystripe, I’ve been ready since the day we met.” He twitched his whiskers in amusement, remembering their first meeting—she had definitely not been. Millie had been a kittypet, almost as soft as Firestar’s sister Princess, and he had been a fugitive in Twolegplace, wandering the streets fearfully. “Then let’s go.” A wide, smooth lake sparkled brightly before them. The sky was a clear, beautiful blue. Graystripe bounded down toward the rolling hills, grass waving gently, brushing against his fur softly. We’ve come a long way since cornstalks.Millie’s eyes shone with gratitude and excitement, reflecting the sky. “I can’t wait to meet your Clan,” she whispered. “They’ll welcome you as their own,” he promised, gazing down at her. “I know.” Motion alerted Graystripe to a nearby patrol—WindClan, he thought. “Which way is ThunderClan?” he called. The cats stopped. After a few heartbeats, a mottled tortoiseshell face poked out at him. “What did you say?” Graystripe was taken aback. “ThunderClan,” he said weakly. “I’m the ThunderClan deputy.” Something flashed in the she-cat’s amber eyes. “I don’t—there is no such thing as ThunderClan.” She nodded curtly, then repeated, “No such thing.” Graystripe flattened his ears. “Is this not a WindClan patrol?” “Get out of here,” ordered a gray tom emerging beside the tabby. “We don’t take kindly to trespassers.” Did Graystripe see misgivings in his shadowy blue eyes? “You’d better leave,” agreed a gray-and-white cat. Millie pressed herself against Graystripe’s side. “Graystripe, I think we should go.” He saw recognition in the gray tom’s eyes, he was sure of it. “This is WindClan,” he snarled. “ThunderClan is dead,” the tortoiseshell snapped. The gray tom’s shoulders sagged. “Firestar was killed by his deputy.” Graystripe backed up farther. “Firestar knows his cats better than that.” “He’s not lying,” the gray-and-white cat meowed. “Bramblestar killed a bunch of cats, and then they started getting all sick. Greencough, I guess. It was leafbare. So they froze to death.” The gray tom nodded solemnly. “Bramblestar cut them off from all medicinal resources and pitted cats against creatures far too strong. You see, this scar—” He flexed a paw, displaying a fading but definitely once-nasty scratch too big to have been made by a cat. “This scar, I received while trying to assist a pair of ThunderClan warriors in driving off a badger.” Millie slunk in front of Graystripe. “We have been traveling for moons. Why didn’t you do anything to stop Bramblestar?” “We tried,” said the gray tom. “We were too late. Bramblestar waged war on ShadowClan with a force of ten starving, sick warriors. ThunderClan is no more.” “You’re lying,” Graystripe growled. “I’m afraid not.” The tortoiseshell sighed. “I am sure RiverClan or ShadowClan would be willing to take you in. But WindClan—we cannot afford to become involved in their affairs.” “We’ll fight you if we find you trespassing again,” the gray-and-white tom added. “Get out of here.” Graystripe turned to Millie as the patrol wove away through the tall grass. “What now?” she whispered. Graystripe closed his eyes. “I don’t know.” CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURHOLLYPAWGorsetail stood tall as the Clan chanted for Antpaw. He was still a young warrior, Hollypaw knew, and having his first apprentice so early was a big deal. Even Weaselfur had bragged, and he was older than Gorsetail. Gorsetail, for his part, certainly puffed his chest out in pride, but he had always been a far more tolerable cat. Hollypaw did wonder at first why he seemed to have a scent to him that mostly only she-cats had, but she never asked, and anyway it had never been important. Gorsetail led Antpaw past Hollypaw. The black-eared tom grinned excitedly at her; he had always had an unbridled optimism about being a warrior. His ceremony had been delayed several days as punishment for disrupting Kestrelpaw’s training; Antpaw and Heatherpaw were littermates. Hollypaw gently shoved her head into Lionpaw’s shoulder. “He’s going to be exhausted tonight,” she observed. “I wonder if he’s going to enjoy sleeping outside of the den.” “He’ll probably go hide in a badger sett,” Lionpaw chuckled. The elders’ den was one of several badger setts in the WindClan camp; Hollypaw had never seen a badger, but from Leafpool’s stories they sounded scary. Weaselfur stalked past Hollypaw. “Running training,” he grunted as he passed. “I have to train,” she told Lionpaw. “I heard him, too, you know,” he mumbled as she sprinted after her mentor. Weaselfur led her to the usual running spot, a vaguely slanted expanse of grass uninterrupted by gorse or bramble. Today he didn’t even bother giving instructions; he loped across the moor, Hollypaw pursuing him. But Hollypaw’s legs were not as long or as slender as his. Eventually she was forced to stop, all four paws aching. “I can’t catch you,” she wheezed. “Can we do something else?” Weaselfur sighed. “Of course you can’t.” Defiance blazed through her. “Yes, I can! I will be able to, anyway, when I’m bigger.” Weaselfur sighed roughly. “Hollypaw, the rabbits are not going to wait until you are bigger.” He spoke slowly, as if she were two moons old. “Learn right now, or you’re going to be an elder before you’re a warrior.” Hollypaw glared at him. “Not every cat can run fast,” she insisted, hoping she was imagining the petulance in her own voice. “Every WindClan cat can run fast. Get it moving.” He resumed walking, then running. I really am trying, she told herself. I’m going as fast as I can—or I think I am, anyway. Maybe it was her fault; maybe she just hadn’t figured out the secret to speed. What am I doing wrong?Weaselfur cried out, “Now get ready. I’m going to try to trip you up.” No! I’m barely running as it is! she wanted to scream, but her teeth were clamped shut, and unclenching her jaw would take more effort than she could afford to expend. Weaselfur’s banded ginger tail flapped in her face, and Hollypaw stumbled, crashing to the ground. “Try again,” he ordered. She didn’t like his voice. Her legs wobbled, and she couldn’t reach even the speed she had last time. “Are you even trying?” he groaned. “Maybe you’re just not cut out for WindClan.” There was a cruel satisfaction in his yellow-green eyes. Hollypaw huddled on the ground. “What do you mean?” she whimpered. He sighed again. “None of your business, thunder.” Hollypaw was fairly certain it was her business, but being called thunder turned her from asking anything more. “I can keep running,” she muttered. “Good.” Although Hollypaw never managed to catch Weaselfur, he actually seemed pleased at her efforts. Around sunhigh he finally stopped running and meowed, “Time to return to camp.” Lionpaw, Jaypaw, and Harepaw clustered around a rabbit from the freshkill pile; Hollypaw headed toward them. “Heatherpaw’s patrolling,” Harepaw said by way of greeting. “Eat all you want.” “You’ve still got some earth on your fur,” Hollypaw said to Jaypaw. He shrugged. “Who cares? I can’t see it.” Harepaw flicked his tail. “Think that’s something? That’s nothing.” He stood up and shook out his brown-and-white pelt, sending earth and mud flying into the air. “Gotta work around it when you’re a tunneler.” Hollypaw wrinkled her nose. “I’m glad I’m a moor-runner,” she muttered. Harepaw’s green eyes brightened. “How’s training going?” Kestrelpaw padded over to join them, licking Jaypaw’s ear as he sat down. “Weaselfur doesn’t like me.” Hollypaw swept her tail across the ground. “I can’t run as fast as him.” Harepaw glanced around furtively, then leaned in, lowering his voice. “Weaselfur’s always a sour little mousebrain. Don’t let him get to you.” Kestrelpaw moaned dramatically. “Ooh, no, RiverClan isn’t all dead! I’m going to bully all the little apprentices about it, because it’s their fault!” “Shh,” hissed Harepaw. Tornear now stared, expressionless, at the band of apprentices, and a few other cats had shot them disapproving looks. “Gorsetail says back when Weaselfur was an apprentice he’d come into the nursery and boss the kits around. He wanted us to do all his camp duties for him,” Harepaw said, shifting closer to Hollypaw. She gave Kestrelpaw a pointed look; he looked embarrassed. “Webfoot was always chasing after him, trying to get him to focus on Clan stuff. We didn’t think he was ever going to get an apprentice.” Kestrelpaw piped up, “Barkface says Onestar wanted to teach him responsibility.” Jaypaw snorted as Harepaw again hissed for Kestrelpaw to lower his voice. “It’s not going to work,” Emberpaw meowed boldly. “He isn’t going to change his personality any more than he’s gonna change his orange spots.” Hollypaw ate her fill of the rabbit and curled up on the ground. “I think I have a border patrol tonight over near RiverClan.” Harepaw nodded. “RiverClan cats are kinda jerks, but there shouldn’t be any trouble.” “Do you know why the cats call me thunder?” Hollypaw asked him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jaypaw’s ears perk up. Harepaw shook his head. “Maybe they’re calling you loud.” “Maybe that’s it.” I’ve already thought of that.Hollypaw flinched as Nightcloud’s voice exploded from the medicine den. “Barkface!” she howled. “You can’t allow this!” All of the apprentices turned to listen; Hollypaw couldn’t make out Barkface’s reply, but she did hear Nightcloud begin saying, “No, no, no.” Kestrelpaw sucked in his breath. “Uh oh.” “Nightcloud’s kits,” Lionpaw whispered. Crowfeather’s patrol returned to camp, and the gray warrior pelted into the medicine den at the sound of his mate’s voice. Heatherpaw quietly mewed a hello, but the apprentices did not continue chatting. When Crowfeather returned, Barkface was with him. The medicine cat’s gaze was bleak. “I am sorry, Crowfeather,” he murmured. “It was not their time.” Crowfeather padded away stonily. “I will do everything in my power to save Breezekit and Shrikekit,” Barkface rasped. Kestrelpaw especially looked frightened. “I thought they were doing okay now,” he confessed. “Swiftkit was finally not coughing.” Stretching across the rabbit, Harepaw touched his nose to his brother’s. “It’s not your fault.” Looking back at the medicine den, Hollypaw thought maybe the Clan could use more help. She would ask Barkface to teach her the herbs. I’ll save you, Shrikekit, Breezekit, she thought. No cat will die at my paws. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVEJAYPAWIt was almost as if Jaypaw was dreaming. He had always felt in the tunnels that he could see. He had seen before in dreams, of course, but never under the sky. Yet down here, in the ancient air of the tunnels, he thought he could pick out movement as Ashfoot padded in front of him. Some tunnels were cramped. Jaypaw almost felt he was too large for some of the squeezes, though of course he was small for his age and Ashfoot was a fully grown warrior. “Do you smell any fresh rabbit?” Ashfoot asked him, breaking his reverie. Jaypaw put his nose to the tunnel floor and inhaled deeply. “None that we can chase down?” he guessed. “Correct. And…?” “Harepaw and Tornear are here,” he added. “Very good. They are waiting farther in.” Ashfoot’s pace increased slightly, and Jaypaw hurried to keep up with her. The tunnel widened; his whiskers no longer brushed the walls. Here he felt the beating of breath strong on his whiskers, heard the pounding of three hearts not his own strong in his ears. “We do not anticipate any battles taking place down in the tunnels,” said Tornear once he had greeted Ashfoot and Jaypaw. “If you are ever cornered by enemy warriors, try to run down here. But be sure you do not stumble.” “I understand it sounds as if we mean to scare you,” Ashfoot meowed. “But you must always keep your wits about you. When we patrol these tunnels, we are not looking to fight. They are strong—many are stronger here than back in our old home, before the Great Journey, in fact—but it is of utmost importance to avoid collapsing them.” Harepaw sounded excited; his breath picked up. “Tell him about Mousepebble.” “No one wants to dwell on Mousepebble,” Tornear growled. “Sorry.” “So what happened to them?” asked Jaypaw. After a pause, Ashfoot answered him. “Mousepebble was a rather forgetful warrior. He served the Clan well. But he was forgetful.” She sighed, then was quiet for a few heartbeats. “He attempted to take on a rogue inside the tunnels. It didn’t work out well for him. We found his body, along with the rogue’s. He was not crushed; he was suffocated.” “It’s like drowning in earth,” Tornear said. “Oh.” Jaypaw wasn’t sure what else there was to say; he had always assumed that tunnelers had it easier than moor-runners. “But accidents like his are rare,” Ashfoot assured him. “As a tunneler, you will hunt for prey down here. We have connected the tunnels to some rabbit warrens; not all will be traversable, since rabbits can run through tighter spaces than cats, but at the very least we can help to scare them to the surface. The tunnels also contain mice. They are also a potential point of entry for enemies; do not attempt to fight in any tunnel smaller than three times your width and three times your height, but you should absolutely report anything you find.” “We have tunnels extending into RiverClan territory, and even a few into ShadowClan.” Tornear stood up. “They provide us with escape routes—and invasion routes. But only as long as we are careful to avoid detection by the other Clans. “Now, it may seem odd that we expect you to hunt down here: how are you expected to pounce without disturbing the tunnels?” “A special pounce,” Harepaw interrupted. “We’re supposed to do the forward pounce.” “Harepaw,” Tornear grunted, “you are not Jaypaw’s mentor.” “Well, I already learned all this,” Harepaw pointed out. “Knowing a move and having the experience necessary to execute it are two very different things.” “This is a rare example of a safe place to train in the tunnels,” Ashfoot explained. “The ceiling here is composed of solid rock.” “Listen closely,” instructed Tornear. He lunged forward, and Jaypaw could have sworn he saw the tom in a flash of silvery fur. Don’t be ridiculous, Jaypaw, even cats with sight can’t see down here, he chided himself. Tornear demonstrated the move a few more times. The rush of air against his whiskers alerted him to the bulky tom’s location each time. “Keep your haunches low,” ordered Ashfoot. “When chasing a rabbit, it is natural to want to leap, but we can’t do that down here. Stick low and keep your paws close to your chest. Your tail should be almost on the ground, and your hind legs should be squished underneath.” The position she described was awkward and difficult for Jaypaw to replicate, but he did his best. He felt her paw on his back; she gently pressed down, changing the curve of his spine. “This is the form you want to keep down here. A few moons from now it will be second nature.” “And then there’s tunnel maintenance,” Tornear grunted. “But that’s another story. For now, if you find loose soil, tell a warrior.” Jaypaw and Harepaw practiced pouncing until their mentors told them it was time to return to the surface. “You got it quick,” Harepaw meowed, sounding impressed. “Think you’re better than I am already.” Jaypaw shrugged. “It’s just jumping.” “Yeah, but it’s weird forward jumping,” Harepaw insisted. Kestrelpaw seemed happy to see them return. Jaypaw left Harepaw to talk to his brother; he was exhausted. And there was another thing. Something he would not admit to any cat. He was—not quite afraid, but shaken. The tunnels didn’t feel unsafe, exactly, but there was something unnerving about them, something ancient. The sight he seemed to have down there shook him the most. It was almost as if they wanted him dead. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXLIONPAW “Close.” Owlwhisker darted around Lionpaw, avoiding his blow. “You’re swinging too slowly.” Lionpaw pulled back and batted his paw in the air experimentally. He could move it faster than he had, he thought, but not without losing the power behind it. “You’re going to have to learn to focus your energy into your attacks,” Owlwhisker mewed. Lionpaw stared blankly at his mentor. Owlwhisker watched expectantly as Lionpaw struck at the ground. “Now attack me again,” he ordered. Lionpaw obligingly swung a paw at him, but the warrior stepped aside. “Okay, okay. Stop trying to hit where I am. Hit instead at where you think I will be.” Lionpaw thought he was a bit closer this time, but he still didn’t connect with Owlwhisker. “Maybe I should just keep hunting,” he suggested hopefully. “Lionpaw, you would be formidable in battle if only you would pay attention,” his mentor sighed. “Try again.” “I am trying,” Lionpaw protested. He reared onto his hind paws and flailed both forepaws at Owlwhisker. His mentor didn’t even try to dodge, and Lionpaw’s left paw came down on top of his head and dragged down his face. “Fighting is like running,” Owlwhisker tried. “When you run, you need to feel all your energy going into the movement. You can’t expect to catch the rabbit if you’re running with your toes; you need your legs, your back, and your tail. When you fight, you can’t just flap your paws about. The motion needs to be carried through your legs.” Lionpaw tried again, and Owlwhisker looked appeased. “That is the correct motion. Try it against me.” Owlwhisker dodged again, but Lionpaw was sure he had been close. “Almost.” Lionpaw’s next hit brushed Owlwhisker’s flank. “I got you!” he crowed, rising onto his hind paws and falling back onto all four. “Pay attention, Lionpaw.” Lionpaw snapped upright. “Yes!” Owlwhisker’s amber gaze was slightly disparaging, and his politeness sounded strained as he meowed, “You’re making progress, but it is not enough to tap your opponent’s fur. In battle, you must connect repeatedly, and you must remain engaged in the fight until your opponent has been defeated.” Lionpaw bared his teeth playfully. Owlwhisker ordered him to attack, and Lionpaw sprang at him. This time Lionpaw managed to slap Owlwhisker twice. “Good job,” his mentor said, finally starting to look satisfied. “You’ll make a fine warrior if you keep improving at today’s rate.” Lionpaw shifted his paws uncomfortably. I don’t want to fight.Owlwhisker checked the sun. “We’re due for a patrol soon. Let’s head back to camp and meet up with the others.” Whitetail was to lead Lionpaw, Gorsetail, and Owlwhisker on a border patrol on the RiverClan side while Antpaw performed camp duties. She returned to camp dragging a pair of rabbits shortly after Lionpaw and Owlwhisker had arrived, but before the patrol could set out, Onestar called a Clan meeting. “Yet again we have an apprentice to name,” he announced from the Tallrock. “His ceremony is overdue, and it is not without its sorrow; he should have stood here with three others. But Breezekit has reached six moons of age, and he is ready to become Breezepaw. Whitetail, teach him the strength and loyalty he will need to serve his Clan.” “Breezepaw! Breezepaw! Breezepaw!” chanted the cats in the camp. Breezepaw was still sullen and cramped-looking, and Lionpaw thought he looked weaker even than the unusually small Jaypaw had on his first day of apprenticeship. Whitetail led Breezepaw to the camp’s entrance, where Lionpaw, Owlwhisker, and Gorsetail waited. “It’s not every apprentice who gets to go on a real patrol on their first day,” the white warrior observed. Breezepaw just shrugged. He’s as grumpy as Jaypaw.Whitetail pointed out the tallest hill near the camp. Breezepaw stared angrily at the top of the hill, narrowing his amber eyes against the sunlight, and then they were off. They passed returning Crowfeather and Mottlenose; the brown warrior dipped her head approvingly toward Breezepaw, who turned his nose from her. “Hi, Breezepaw,” Lionpaw chirped. “Hi,” the other apprentice said warily. “I’m Lionpaw. Remember me?” “Yeah.” Lionpaw stopped walking, staring after Breezepaw. What’s his problem?“Focus, Lionpaw,” Owlwhisker called, and Lionpaw hastened to catch up with the patrol. “Being a moor-runner is fun. You get to hunt rabbits, and later on we get to explore the forest,” Lionpaw offered. Breezepaw glanced at him, then returned to staring at his own paws. “I’ve been learning to fight some. It’s pretty hard. But I bet you’ll be fast.” “Lionpaw, don’t bother Breezepaw,” warned Owlwhisker. “’S fine,” Breezepaw mumbled. Lionpaw waved his tail. “The setting sun looks really cool from outside the camp. Just wait ’till you go on an evening patrol. The lake gets all red.” “When we get closer to the border, we should all be quiet,” Owlwhisker said, a little more forcefully. Lionpaw lapsed into silence, not sure what else there was to say to a cat who acted almost incapable of responding. Breezepaw certainly wasn’t a very talkative cat. Even Jaypaw usually at least complains.The ShadowClan border was far away, and by the time they returned to camp, the sun had already set. “Guess you didn’t get to see the red lake today,” Lionpaw yawned. It was all he could think of. He let Breezepaw choose where in the camp he wanted to sleep. He didn’t notice Nightcloud’s suspicious glare. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENJAYPAWJaypaw headed down the long, winding tunnel once again. He had traveled this way so many times already that he hardly needed to smell the ground to find it, and once inside he could navigate the tunnel without hesitation. The rabbit-scent closer to the warren was strong. Jaypaw picked up his pace, keeping his mouth open to drink in its scent. There it was. He could hear it—see it? He thought he spotted a flash of movement, the hind paw of a creature he had never seen—and he sped up, charging down the tapering tunnel without disturbing its walls. Jaypaw pounced, grabbing the rabbit’s shoulders and biting hard on its neck. It shrieked and tried to kick him, but before too long it fell limp in his jaws. Proudly he dragged the rabbit up to the surface and back to the camp. Ashfoot gave an approving mrow as he set it on the freshkill pile, and Jaypaw was fairly certain the other murmur he heard was Crowfeather’s. “Good catch, Jaypaw,” meowed Harepaw. “How’d you even manage that one? Tunnel hunting is hard.” “Oh.” Jaypaw realized Harepaw had caught a scant few tunnel rabbits despite being older. “I guess it comes a little more naturally to me to not be able to see the prey.” Harepaw’s teeth clicked together; the sharpness of the sound made Jaypaw flinch. “Sorry,” he squeaked. Jaypaw sighed, but he knew Harepaw had not been thinking. “It’s fine.” Breezepaw shouldered past; both Harepaw and Jaypaw hissed at him. “Well, don’t just sit by the freshkill,” the younger apprentice snapped. “I’m busy.” “We’re not,” Jaypaw pointed out. “We can sit wherever we want.” Breezepaw growled. “You’re not even fit to be a warrior. Leave me alone.” Jaypaw bristled. “What do you mean?” “What do you think I mean, thunder?” Breezepaw sniffed disparagingly. “You’re useless. Get your head out from under your paws and do something useful, like get hit by a tree.” He stalked away, arching his back. Whitetail padded after him, whispering an apology to the startled apprentices. “I’m sorry, Jaypaw, Harepaw. He needs to stop saying things like that, I know. He’ll learn eventually.” “He’s a pain,” Harepaw muttered. “Pain in the tail,” agreed Jaypaw. He always had been, even before he and his littermates had gotten sick. “Is it weird being brothers but not brothers?” Harepaw asked. Jaypaw shrugged. “Would you care?” He supposed there was something to say for family ties, but he had never felt any desire to speak to the angry black tom. And of course, today had not helped. “Probably.” Harepaw yawned. “I was on the dawn patrol this morning. I swear Tornear sucked all the energy out of me. Just said my name and—whoosh. Gone.” Ashfoot cleared her throat. “Maybe it’s time for training.” “Well, bye,” muttered Jaypaw. “Bye.” Harepaw yawned again and slumped down next to the freshkill pile. From somewhere else in camp Jaypaw heard Kestrelpaw’s voice. “Wow, Jaypaw, you caught a cat.” The medicine apprentice bounded up to him and touched his nose to Jaypaw’s ear. “Fiercest hunter in all the Clans.” Jaypaw jerked away. “I’m training,” he snapped, marching after Ashfoot. Ashfoot mostly wanted for now to help Jaypaw learn basic defensive stances. It would be very difficult to teach him to fight, she warned, because most warriors relied mainly on their sense of sight, but she could teach him to defend a post, which would come in handy if their camp was ever attacked. Jaypaw was not enthusiastic about her criticisms of his posture, but she seemed genuinely to be doing her best. She guided him with her paws and tail. “You will also need to be able to defend against common attacking moves,” she added, gently demonstrating the moves that would come his way. He managed to block one that she said was a basic RiverClan offensive. His dream that night was very strange indeed. He was in a reddish stone canyon. He had the feeling it was far away and from long ago. The dusty floor was warm and scratchy against his pawpads, and he flexed them tentatively, reveling in the comfort the soft earth provided. A voice caught his ear, and he crept closer. Peeping from behind a cluster of ferns he spotted a smallish dark gray cat conversing with a strikingly bright ginger tom. The old gray cat slurred something about a prophecy, then rasped, “There will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws.” Jaypaw reacted much the same as the flame-colored cat. The power of the stars?The sweet catmint scent of the calico she-cat from his previous dreams wafted over him. “Jaypaw, don’t you see?” she whispered. He wrinkled his nose and spat, “I see right now.” Her amber eyes shone with the air of a cat newly chosen to rule all. “Jaypaw, that cat is Firestar. Kin of your kin. Now wake up!” CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTLIONPAWThe hills closer to the RiverClan border smoothed out and sloped down toward the lake. Lionpaw’s paws ached a bit from walking, but the greenleaf air was warm on his pelt, and the thundering of horses somewhere in the distance was a strangely comforting roar. “RiverClan scent,” Nightcloud reported, curling back her lips. “They’ve been on our territory.” Lionpaw still disliked Nightcloud. She had gone to Whitetail the other day and demanded that Breezepaw not train with Lionpaw, Hollypaw, or Jaypaw, saying they bullied him. He had been pretty sure he and Breezepaw were friends, or at least close. Owlwhisker and Whitetail had said they could not train the apprentices apart that way, but Onestar had told Ashfoot to avoid putting Nightcloud’s son on patrols with Leafpool’s kits, just in case. I bet Crowfeather would have let us train together, Lionpaw thought, irritated. Why did his father have to be so distant? He had looked proud enough, Lionpaw recalled; that was something, at least. But he had done no more than compliment a few pieces of prey since Leafpool’s kits’ initial ceremony. Ashfoot pricked up her ears and climbed up the hill, body low. Jaypaw was back in camp tending to the elders. Lionpaw wished his brother were here, but then again he would probably just get snippy about the heat. “Looks like a regular hunting patrol,” Ashfoot murmured. “We can take them.” Peering from behind the WindClan deputy Lionpaw spotted four cats. A dark tom led the RiverClan patrol. “Blackclaw, Voletooth, Beechfur, and an apprentice,” whispered Ashfoot. “Let’s go.” She hared down the hill toward them. The RiverClan cats heard the clattering of the grass, but they were much slower than the WindClan cats, and they stood their ground rather than fleeing. Lionpaw threw himself at the smallish gray-and-white cat, trying to put his whole body into the motion. Her fur was startlingly soft. Concentrate! He grabbed for her neck; she was a bit thicker than he was, but he was a larger cat naturally. She slammed him to the ground. She’s—stronger than me? Her foreleg pressed into his chest, and he realized she was trying to choke him. “Get off,” he sputtered, not sure what else there was to do. Her other forepaw smacked his muzzle. “Silly WindClan.” He twisted, rolling out from under her and gasping for air. She rammed into his side, and Lionpaw stumbled. “Get out of here,” he hissed. She snorted and whacked him again. He staggered back. RiverClan cats were stronger than Ashfoot had implied. Lionpaw darted to her side and kicked. It worked—he felt his claws tangle her fur and rip at her skin, though they didn’t go very deep. He pulled his paw away as she tried to throw him down again. “Voletooth is gonna kill that cat,” she taunted. Lionpaw snarled and headbutted her jaw. She squealed and dashed away a few paces, touching a paw to her mouth. Part of Lionpaw wanted to apologize, but he barreled toward her anyway, crashing into her and knocking her down. He tore at her fur; it was thick and silky, difficult to penetrate, but he managed to draw blood. The RiverClan apprentice was shrieking now. She writhed on the ground, lashing out at him with all four paws. He could feel her claws digging into his skin, ripping it apart, but he didn’t stop. Until Ashfoot knocked him away. “We won, Lionpaw. Let her go.” The RiverClan apprentice shakily got to her paws. Her amber eyes were huge, and she was rank with the scents of fear and blood. After a scared glance at Lionpaw she fled, small brown tabby ushering her back across the border with a glare at the WindClan patrol. “A warrior does not kill unless it is necessary,” Owlwhisker said sternly. “You would do well not to lose yourself in battle.” “Right,” Lionpaw panted. Now his wounds hurt and his ears rang. How much had he missed? All he remembered was the feel of her thick pelt on his toes, the dull buzz of her squeals barely registering in his consciousness, the heat of her blood in the blazing greenleaf sun. “That was a well-fought battle,” Owlwhisker added. “You performed excellently.” Lionpaw gasped his thanks, the pain of his cuts crashing over him. “I need Barkf—Barkface.” “Owlwhisker, take him back to camp. Nightcloud and I will finish surveying the borders.” Ashfoot’s gray-blue eyes had lit with intrigue, but she simply watched coolly as Owlwhisker led his apprentice back toward the camp. Nightcloud appeared less than pleased, but Lionpaw didn’t have the strength left to care. The adrenaline had left him. “I must admit, you have learned much about the fight,” Owlwhisker purred as he walked. “It’s almost going to be more important to teach you control.” Lionpaw still didn’t like the idea of fighting. Couldn’t the Clans just stick to their own territories? He would fight a fox, he supposed, but it was very different fighting another cat. If I can be Breezepaw’s friend, I could have been that cat’s friend, too. He swallowed as the realization hit him. And if I’d been a RiverClan cat, I might have tried to kill Breezepaw instead.Kestrelpaw’s bright blue eyes clouded as he caught sight of Lionpaw. “Uh, you need herbs,” he said. Owlwhisker exhaled a bit louder than usual, but he just said, “I doubt any of Lionpaw’s wounds are severe; he was fighting an apprentice. He definitely needs cobwebs.” Kestrelpaw returned shortly with cobwebs wrapped around one of his forepaws. He covered up Lionpaw’s deeper scratches with them. “They’ll heal soon.” Lionpaw sniffed one of the cobwebs; dark red spots began to bead through it. He went to lick it, but Kestrelpaw shouted, “No! Don’t touch it.” Lionpaw tentatively flexed his shoulder; the cobweb was itchy and uncomfortable. “What happens if I touch it?” “Oh, it could fall off,” Kestrelpaw answered dismissively. “It won’t hurt you, but it’d be a waste of a good web.” The medicine apprentice brightened as Jaypaw came into the camp, so Lionpaw shuffled over to the freshkill pile and picked up a chaffinch to share with the others. Lionpaw told them the details of the battle; Jaypaw glanced at Gorsetail as Beechfur’s name was mentioned. Kestrelpaw demonstrated his own rather inventive battle moves, all of which seemed to end with him flopping onto the ground. Breezepaw turned down Lionpaw’s invitation to sit with them, and Jaypaw gave both of them a blankly judgmental stare. “But don’t you wanna be friends?” Lionpaw pointed out. Jaypaw sighed heavily and went back to eating, and Lionpaw thought again that if he had been an enemy apprentice he might have had to fight Jaypaw. But that will never happen. I’m a WindClan cat through and through. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINEHOLLYPAWHollypaw yawned, padding alongside her brothers on the way to the Island. This was her first Gathering; she had narrowly missed eligibility for the last one, becoming an apprentice only a few days afterward. The day’s earlier threatening dark clouds had passed, traveling away from the bright full moon. The tree bridge onto the island had crumbling bark, once charred but now splintering away to reveal the trodden-down inner wood of the trunk. Hollypaw felt the pawprints of the cats who had come before her, imagining that they went back generations to ancient times, though she knew the Clans had traveled to the lake from somewhere else not too long before. She tried to help Jaypaw across the log with her tail, but he bit the tip and evaded her, nearly falling off the other side but managing to stay atop it. Hollypaw scampered into the clearing. Blackstar and Leopardstar already sat in the branches of the giant oak tree, and Onestar joined them swiftly. The RiverClan and ShadowClan leaders both shot him dirty looks that Hollypaw didn’t understand and continued a hushed conversation. Kestrelpaw called for Jaypaw to follow him to speak with the other medicine cats; Hollypaw spotted another cat their age sitting with the golden cat she knew must be Mothwing, so she followed Jaypaw and Kestrelpaw through the crowd. The dark gray tabby apprentice greeted Kestrelpaw, then looked curiously at Hollypaw and Jaypaw. “Is that the cat you were talking about?” she mewed. “Yeah, that’s Jaypaw.” Kestrelpaw put his tail on Jaypaw’s shoulder. “He’s cool.” He turned to the other WindClan apprentices. “This is Willowpaw.” Willowpaw flicked her tail. “And who’s that?” “Hollypaw.” Hollypaw dipped her head. Mothwing was peering at Leafpool’s kits thoughtfully, but she said nothing; her amber eyes had a faraway look to them. Jaypaw seemed to have noticed this somehow; the same look reflected in his face. Hollypaw decided not to question her brother—he would probably be angry. Instead she sat down next to Willowpaw. “I’m learning about herbs, too,” she bragged. “I’m going to be a warrior, but Barkface is teaching me about the medicine on the side.” Willowpaw grinned. “I’m learning to be a medicine cat, but Mothwing is teaching me to fight, too.” Hollypaw felt a bit less special now; stung, she said, “Well, I have to hunt and fight. But what is it like in RiverClan?” “Mothwing used to be a warrior,” Willowpaw explained. “I don’t fish much, but she’s teaching me how anyway. We have lots of fish, and the Twolegs don’t bother us. The scariest thing that ever happened to me was poison.” “You got poisoned?” Hollypaw gasped. Willowpaw shook her head. “Not me. Mostly some kits and Beechfur. But it was pretty scary, and that’s why I wanted to be a medicine cat.” Hollypaw thought of Breezepaw’s sickness and mewed, “Why did your Clan hunt on our land?” “WindClan has more land than ShadowClan or us,” Willowpaw pointed out. “Hawkfrost—he’s our deputy; he just became deputy this moon—says that isn’t fair, especially since WindClan only got that land by chasing someone away. Uh, ThunderClan, I think he said?” Mothwing’s fur fluffed out, and she hissed, “Don’t let anyone hear you.” Hollypaw was fairly certain she knew which deputy was Hawkfrost; he was much darker and scarier than the rust-colored Russetfur, and Mothwing had given him a terrified glance. “What are you talking about?” Hollypaw whispered. “Didn’t you know?” Willowpaw mewed, eyes wide. “There were four Clans.” Hollypaw looked at Barkface; his green eyes were narrowed, dark with shadows. He gazed up at the moon, a stony sorrow clouding his expression, and he didn’t respond to Hollypaw’s stare. “We shouldn’t talk about that here,” Mothwing cautioned, tail thumping the ground. “When should we?” the ShadowClan medicine cat—was his name Littleclaw?—rasped. “If not now, we cannot call ourselves worthy of StarClan’s guidance much longer.” “What are you talking about?” Hollypaw pleaded. Jaypaw also fixed on Mothwing, tail straight out behind him, ignoring Kestrelpaw whispering in his ear. “Were StarClan looking out for us, it never would have happened,” murmured Mothwing bleakly. “Onestar sought to show his independence by taking down a friend, and the consequences—he ended up destroying ThunderClan; they disappeared from the forest to escape his attacks. My own half-brother killed their leader, and ThunderClan was left without guidance. With no faith left in their own cats, they scattered. I hope that they are still alive somewhere.” Hollypaw stared at Mothwing, then looked at Barkface again. The WindClan medicine cat eventually meowed in a tired, heavy voice, “She speaks the truth. We did not mean for such drastic measures to be taken. WindClan has spent every day since regretting our actions.” The ShadowClan medicine cat growled softly. “ Sorry catches no prey.” “It is not my job as medicine cat to catch prey, Littlecloud,” Barkface replied evenly; “it is my job to heal the wounds suffered by cats fiercer than I.” “A storm may be a storm, but that does not change the frequency with which it strikes down its offenders,” Littlecloud warned. “Maybe you did not mean for ThunderClan to fall, but every cat in WindClan’s ranks last leafbare played a paw.” Leopardstar began speaking before Barkface had come up with a response. Her voice was as thin as she was, and she looked strained as she wavered, “RiverClan…is fishing well. Our streams are plentiful, and our warriors are strong. Mothwing has taken Willowpaw as her apprentice, and we also have Minnowpaw and Pebblepaw in training.” “Willowpaw! Minnowpaw! Pebblepaw!” the gathered cats chanted. Willowpaw lifted her tail proudly. Blackstar spoke next. “ShadowClan is hunting well. Owlpaw and Ivypaw have begun their apprenticeships, and Snowbird and Ratscar have become warriors.” Again the cats chanted; Hollypaw thought she might have picked out Snowbird in the crowd, but really it could have been any white cat. Onestar announced Hollypaw, Lionpaw, Jaypaw, Breezepaw, Heatherpaw, and Antpaw’s apprenticeships. Harepaw, Emberpaw, and Kestrelpaw had been mentioned at the last Gathering, she realized. Kestrelpaw shouted their names louder than the other cats, and Hollypaw saw Jaypaw flatten his ears at the volume of his voice. At least that answered one question. Her Clanmates used thunder as an insult because the ThunderClan cats had fallen apart. They were seen as a lesser, weaker Clan. Onestar was the first leader to lead his Clan out of the clearing. Hollypaw said goodbye to Willowpaw, who waved her tail happily, and followed Jaypaw and Kestrelpaw onto the tree bridge. Her first Gathering had been a success. CHAPTER THIRTYJAYPAWJaypaw fell asleep with the medicine cats’ words still weighing heavily on his mind. A fourth Clan that we killed.He could see now—definitely asleep—but not well. Everything around him was dark; a dull, cold, gray light emanated from somewhere near his paws, but when he searched for the source he could not find one. Dry bracken brushed his pelt and hung before his eyes; ducking away he found that the bushes around him were not the usual starry, soft-leaved shrubs but instead painfully thorny thickets. There was a shadow—how could any cat cast a shadow in such low light? Slinking after the shadow, Jaypaw nearly cried out as thorns dug into his pelt. He pulled away, wispy tufts of gray fur sticking to the barbed brambles. Mouse dung, he thought angrily. The other cat was no longer in sight, but putting his nose to the ground Jaypaw picked up a scent trail. It smelled like a RiverClan cat. But there was another cat there. Before he could get close enough to see the RiverClan cat, a scrawny, slime-slicked silver tabby barred his path. The tabby had thick, bold black stripes, and his pelt dripped with what appeared to be filthy black water. “WindClan,” the tabby wheezed, revealing yellow teeth and a missing canine. His breath was rancid; Jaypaw backed away. “What do you want?” he growled. “You are looking for someone,” the tabby breathed. “Do you seek the past and those who would help you set it right?” “Yes,” Jaypaw said warily. “Go away.” The tabby laughed. Jaypaw winced. The silver-and-black tom’s voice crackled; he sounded parched, and the same disgusting blackish stuff leaked from the corner of his mouth. “I can take you to him.” “Go away, Darkstripe,” commanded a familiar voice. The herb-scented tortoiseshell and white queen padded authoritatively toward the two cats, and Darkstripe drew back, grimacing. “You do not belong here, Spottedleaf,” Darkstripe croaked. “This is Tigerstar’s land.” “Tigerstar tried to kill my Clan,” Jaypaw burst. “He isn’t going to help me!” “Come with me,” Darkstripe whispered, a hungry gleam in his dead golden eyes. “I can teach you of greatness.” Spottedleaf stepped protectively in front of Jaypaw. “Leave him alone,” she snarled. “He is not yours.” “Nor is he yours.” Darkstripe crouched down and stared at Jaypaw through Spottedleaf’s legs. “Jaypaw, your destiny lies with us.” “You’re trying to kill me,” Jaypaw snapped. The cold light in Darkstripe’s eyes faded. “So be it.” Spottedleaf dropped into position to pounce. “Darkstripe, leave,” she snarled forcefully. No fear-scent hit Jaypaw’s tongue, but the skinny tabby turned and zigzagged into the spiny underbrush. “Follow me,” Spottedleaf ordered Jaypaw. She led him stiffly through the forest. The light cascading from her starry pelt only made the rest of the woods darker in comparison, and Jaypaw was unsure whether some of the shadows he saw were actually cats, lurking and watching. After several minutes he found himself in Spottedleaf’s glittering hunting grounds. “Jaypaw, you must never return to the Place of No Stars,” she told him seriously. “I wasn’t planning to,” he muttered. She looked almost angry now. “Jaypaw, listen to me. You must be sure to never, ever go back. Take heed, Jaypaw. This is the world you need to remember.” “I told you, I’m not going to,” he snapped. Her amber gaze was hard. “It takes more than words to avoid that place. Promise me you will do everything in your power to stay out. Your paws must never touch that shadowy soil.” Jaypaw lashed his tail. “I didn’t even mean to go there once. I was going to fight Darkstripe.” She shook her head. “Maybe one day you will need to fight him. But that day is not today. All of the Clans would suffer a great loss if you were to go down now in that dark forest.” “Like ThunderClan?” he said accusingly. But Spottedleaf’s gaze was sad, not stung, by his words. “Yes. ThunderClan especially,” she murmured. “Your destiny and that of ThunderClan are entwined, Jaypaw. Sharp eyes, sharp mind, sharp wit.” Now Jaypaw was confused. “How can I have anything to do with ThunderClan?” She sighed. “That is something you must find for yourself.” She padded away, not signaling for him to follow her. Jaypaw watched her go, wishing some cat would start talking sense soon. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONEHOLLYPAWA whole moon had passed since the last Gathering, and Hollypaw had again been chosen. Ashfoot had told Onestar she wanted Jaypaw to stay behind for his attitude, and Lionpaw had taken charge of Breezepaw, leading him off to sit with Ivypaw and Owlpaw, whom he had apparently met last time. “No Jaypaw, huh,” Willowpaw greeted Kestrelpaw. “Hey, Hollypaw.” Hollypaw had done her best to put the talk of ThunderClan out of her mind. Most of the warriors had been avoiding her questions or saying as Barkface had that it was an accident, but Leafpool had outright refused to carry on a conversation after Hollypaw had said the word. She supposed it had something to do with the cats who called her thunder, so that was one mystery solved, at least. But this time even Mothwing and Littlecloud did not want to talk about it. “Come on, Hollypaw, you’re just making everyone sad,” Willowpaw moaned. “I don’t think anyone is really sure,” Kestrelpaw added. Just because you weren’t alive doesn’t mean the older cats weren’t, she wanted to snap, but she decided to drop it. There was no sense in ruining her friendship with the medicine cats. The leaders went through the usual motions of announcing ranks, though little had happened in the past moon that warranted mention. RiverClan swam well, ShadowClan hunted well, WindClan ran well…“I have an omen to share as well,” Blackstar said after all three leaders had shared their news. “Littlecloud picked up a bird from the freshkill pile. It had been caught that day by one of our warriors. But when he went to eat it—he found its belly crawling with maggots.” He narrowed his amber eyes at Onestar. “I believe this to be a sign of a rotten cat within the Clans. So quickly things go bad.” But Onestar just shook his head. “Clan tensions have been rising for some time, but there is no need for such hostility,” he meowed. “We are teaching the younger generation that hatred is more important than peace. We are teaching them that it is more important to repay grievances than to make up for them.” Leopardstar and Blackstar both gave him untrusting looks. “What are you saying, then?” the white tom growled. “It is time to relieve some of the pressure our complaints have brought onto us. WindClan has many apprentices, and it has come to my attention that even among our own cats, animosities have grown.” He paused, and after waiting for a continuation, Blackstar growled, “And?” “I have spoken to some of my senior warriors. WindClan is to host a competition in which our apprentices complete various challenges,” Onestar answered proudly. “It would be an honor to be joined by Shadow and River.” Blackstar and Leopardstar looked at each other, obviously pondering his suggestion. Eventually Blackstar meowed, “When and where?” “Three days from now, near the Moonpool’s stream, when the moon has waned from its fullest circle but has not yet shrunk too far. All three Clans will join under truce, and our apprentices will compete.” “And you expect us to agree to this?” Hawkfrost exclaimed, planting his paws and rising. “RiverClan is far stronger than you believe us to be!” Onestar narrowed his eyes. “I will not demand participation,” he mewed calmly. “I only thought it might inspire a sense of peace and cooperation among us.” “ShadowClan will attend,” Blackstar said. “WindClan’s apprentices will see what ShadowClan is truly made of.” “RiverClan will participate as well,” Leopardstar squeaked out. Hawkfrost looked murderous, rage burning in his icy blue eyes, but he did not speak. Back at camp Jaypaw waited in the clearing. Lionpaw and Kestrelpaw bounded to him; Breezepaw hesitated, turned, and sulked away, unleashing a quiet, huffy string of what she assumed were obscenities. Hollypaw twitched her whiskers; the bossy furball still hadn’t learned to deal with Jaypaw’s sass or Kestrelpaw’s enthusiasm. She wasn’t sure what Lionpaw saw in him. Heatherpaw playfully headbutted Breezepaw, who rolled onto his side with a huff and curled up to sleep. How does he stand this heat? Maybe his shorter, thinner fur made him colder. Hollypaw headed for her usual sleeping spot; Jaypaw and Heatherpaw joined her soon. Lionpaw said he had to go to the dirtplace; she had the feeling he was making excuses and would be gone for a while. Harepaw and Kestrelpaw stretched out near Jaypaw; Hollypaw saw the warriors choosing their nests as well. Some moss would be nice, she thought, remembering her time in the nursery. “Hey, what’re you gonna do in the competition?” Harepaw asked. “I don’t know what competitions there are,” she reminded him. “Well, me neither, but I figure there’s gotta be jumping, running, and climbing.” “Running, I guess.” She shuddered, remembering Weaselfur’s terrible running training. At least it had made her quick. “That’s cool. I hope there’s a digging part. That’s my best skill. Or hunting—though if we do it underground Jaypaw’ll take first.” “They won’t make us hunt underground,” Jaypaw grumbled. “ShadowClan and RiverClan don’t do that; it would kill them.” “Guess that’s too much to hope for,” Harepaw chuckled. “No, no, I know,” he added as Heatherpaw glared reproachfully at him. Hollypaw drifted into sleep before Lionpaw had returned. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOLIONPAW“The first competition will be speed,” Ashfoot meowed. Lionpaw’s pelt pricked. Speed? One of Owlwhisker’s only lasting complaints was that Lionpaw simply could not run as quickly as other WindClan cats. Weaselfur had taught Hollypaw how to run until she had worn her paws to nubs, and Jaypaw had never needed to run too quickly, but Owlwhisker simply looked exasperated every time Lionpaw let a speedy rabbit slip away. “The race will be from this bush into the lake,” said Russetfur, the aging ShadowClan deputy. “Be sure not to get turned around.” The leaders had chosen a place near the Moonpool’s stream to hold the race, and Lionpaw thought it was probably because there was sparse underbrush, with a few trees littered here and there; it was not the thick pine forest of ShadowClan or the rolling hills of WindClan, and the ground was not as mushy as he guessed RiverClan’s must be. They would be on equal ground. “Each Clan is encouraged to enter two apprentices per event,” Ashfoot continued. “Apprentices can volunteer, and deputies will work out who gets to participate. Everyone who wants to compete will be allowed to participate in at least one challenge.” Hawkfrost sniffed. Lionpaw felt something within his chest twitch at the looks of the hulking dark tom. He did not like Hawkfrost’s icy eyes or his hooked claws or his thick tail or his powerful paws— “Are you okay?” Heatherpaw mewed, wobbling on her hind paws to wave her forepaws in front of him. “You look like you’ve seen a badger.” “I am a badger!” Lionpaw crowed, crouching to pounce. The many eyes turned on his pelt told him this was not appropriate behavior, and he sat down, nosing the fur on his shoulder flat. Breezepaw, Heatherpaw, and Hollypaw were chosen for WindClan, Whitepaw and Snakepaw for ShadowClan, and Dapplepaw and Pebblepaw for RiverClan. As they began running, Lionpaw suddenly realized he wouldn’t be able to watch the race—the only way to see the apprentices cross the finish line would be to beat them there, and he couldn’t do that. Six warriors had been sent to watch the lakeshore for the first apprentice to splash into the water. Disappointed, he glanced at Harepaw, who was whispering something to Jaypaw. “Go, Hollypaw, Heatherpaw, and Breezepaw,” Lionpaw called after them. Hollypaw gave him a nervous, grateful grin; Breezepaw might have flicked his tail—Lionpaw chose to believe he did. Heatherpaw, first to the starting line, had not heard, but he thought it was a good thing he had included her anyway. “The strength competition will be next. In it, apprentices will fight with claws sheathed to pin down their opponent.” Hawkfrost growled. “We don’t have the right number of cats for that.” “I wonder whose fault that is,” Russetfur mused with a pointed stare at Ashfoot. “Each Clan is allowed to provide more than two apprentices for a challenge,” Ashfoot countered, angrier than Lionpaw had seen her for a long time. She was apparently taking great effort to keep her fur flat. Russetfur’s gaze did not falter, and Ashfoot added in a hushed but furious tone, “I also seem to recall living under a Thunderpath far from home with a pair of starving kits. You cannot think this was our will, and I will not have talk of this today—there is a truce, Russetfur, and I do not expect Blackstar will want to break it, not with both other Clans present.” Lionpaw was actually slightly impressed at Ashfoot’s threat. It wasn’t particularly well worded, but Russetfur stepped down, shaking her head but saying no more. “If they are to fight, let them fight,” Hawkfrost snapped. “RiverClan does not have all day. There are many mouths to feed back at camp.” Lionpaw volunteered first, Harepaw behind him. Ivypaw of ShadowClan was next, and Lionpaw tried to size her up. She looked…slippery, maybe? Or was she just very sturdy? He wasn’t sure. The other two ShadowClan apprentices, Kinkpaw and Owlpaw, stepped forward as well, and Minnowpaw and Pouncepaw of RiverClan. “Is there any other apprentice who wishes to take part in this competition?” Ashfoot called. “Bet you could do it,” Kestrelpaw said, tail wrapped around Jaypaw’s back. “You’re a tough fighter.” Jaypaw sighed. “Kestrelpaw, I’m blind. I can’t fight.” “You’re pretty strong, though. You’ve gotta admit.” Jaypaw furrowed his brow and pushed his whiskers forward. “This isn’t my round of competition,” he muttered quietly. “Well, I’ll do it,” Willowpaw offered. “You’re a medicine cat,” Hawkfrost snarled. “Get back to Mothwing and do as you’re told.” She sniffed. “Mothwing says I can do this if I want. I know some moves.” She’s going to get crushed, Lionpaw thought, but he wasn’t too concerned: with no claws in the tournament, she was in no real danger, and she would serve only to provide someone else with an easy win. Hawkfrost was thunderous, but Russetfur laid her tail across his chest. “Let her compete. Any apprentice who wishes to compete may do so for at least one challenge.” Hawkfrost didn’t answer, but he didn’t order Willowpaw away again. Ashfoot called them off to a wide, flat area and said this was where they were to battle. Lionpaw defeated Ivypaw easily; she was not particularly slippery or sturdy, though she did apparently have a lot of energy. She was still small, and though he supposed if she had been using her claws it would have hurt a lot, all she had done was beat her tiny paws against his fur a bunch. Kinkpaw had beaten Pouncepaw; Lionpaw briefly wondered if her fur was really as dirty as it looked, thinking he would hate to have to be her sparring partner, then admonished himself for having the thought. If I had long fur like her, it’d be that messy, too. Minnowpaw— oh, no, not her—had handily defeated Owlpaw, and somehow Willowpaw had beaten Harepaw. “What happened?” Lionpaw asked incredulously. “She’s strong. And I think by ‘some moves’ she means ‘everything.’” Harepaw swished his tail with a sigh. “Good thing Kestrelpaw wasn’t here to see that—she kept getting away, couldn’t keep her down.” The lakeshore warriors returned now with the results of the race; Eaglestep, Crowfeather’s brother, announced that Breezepaw had won, with Snakepaw finishing second and Heatherpaw third. Hollypaw had been slowed considerably by the introduction of underbrush to her usually empty running field; poor Whitepaw had twisted her paw in a molehill, but she looked only sheepish, not injured. Lionpaw was set to battle Willowpaw now, and he was slightly relieved: now he would avoid either touching Kinkpaw or facing down Minnowpaw again, although if—no, when—he beat this medicine cat he would still have to battle one. Harepaw was right, Willowpaw was hard to pin down. She had soft, sleek fur that his pawpads couldn’t grasp, and she was a well-fed cat who had clearly practiced this many times before. But eventually Lionpaw managed to trap her, and she could not escape. “Good job,” said Harepaw after Ashfoot had congratulated him. Lionpaw chanced a glance at Hawkfrost, whose eyes appeared to be burning a hole in something somewhere off to the side. “Thanks.” Minnowpaw had already pinned her opponent to the ground, so it was time to continue the tournament. Lionpaw clutched and released the earth under his paws, preparing to face her again. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill you before.Her amber eyes were uneasy, and Lionpaw knew she was thinking of their last battle, too. But she stood staring him defiantly down. He lashed his tail. Russetfur gave the signal, and Lionpaw and Minnowpaw pounced. Without his claws she was even harder to trap than she had been before, and he silently cursed RiverClan fur. Lionpaw struck at her with his powerful hind feet—but he—missed? Minnowpaw was using a move he had never seen before, and suddenly he was lying on the ground under her paws. “Minnowpaw wins,” Hawkfrost growled apathetically. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREEJAYPAWJaypaw and Kestrelpaw had both participated in the jumping challenge. Jaypaw had not been very enthusiastic about it, but Ashfoot had said it would be fun, and he had recognized that she thought it would build character. Jaypaw had done very well in the distance jumping part, as had Harepaw and, to his surprise, Dapplepaw of RiverClan. Pouncepaw had performed pitifully, and neither Ivypaw nor Owlpaw had made it much farther than the RiverClan cat. Whitepaw had wanted to participate, but her paw was still sore from the molehill. Pouncepaw and Kestrelpaw had sprung highest, and Jaypaw had been almost amused at the absurdity of their continued bouncing as they tried to determine who was truly better. Pouncepaw had won when Kestrelpaw had given up and rolled onto his back, saying his true calling was with the plants and the berries. Heatherpaw had won the climbing challenge, and Onestar had promised her a fat rabbit; Jaypaw had protested, and she had offered to share it with him. Attention had turned to hunting now. Apprentices from each Clan would compete to catch as many pieces of prey as possible within limits set by warriors standing several fox-lengths apart from one another in a large crescent shape by the lake. This way, the leaders and deputies had reasoned, all of the types of prey each apprentice normally hunted would be present. Jaypaw thought ShadowClan probably had the advantage, although he knew there were fish in the stream, so maybe RiverClan would defeat them. Kestrelpaw whispered something about how Jaypaw should probably compete because of that time he had added Harepaw to the pile, but Jaypaw just shrugged. “I can’t hunt—” He broke off and swiveled his ears, hoping he had not seemed too suspicious. He had been about to say that he couldn’t hunt up here, but the tunnels were a secret. Kestrelpaw licked Jaypaw’s head. “Guess we’ll wait here and eat their catch, huh.” Jaypaw settled down beside him. “Yeah, there’s not much else to do.” He wondered if anything was happening in the tunnels right now—nothing ever happened down there, but he had a gnawing feeling that he should be there, should be looking for someone. But who? Everyone he knew lived on the surface, and no one could be mousebrained enough to get themselves lost down there. Only Mousepebble had died recently, and that was in more of a rockfall. Harepaw, Breezepaw, Hollypaw, and Heatherpaw all wanted to hunt. Lionpaw sounded as if he wanted to hunt, but he muttered something about being too tired. Jaypaw knew Hollypaw was angry at herself for losing the race; he saw through her eyes the bushes popping up in her path and felt through her paws the difficulty and the StarClan-forsaken slowness with which she turned mid-run. ShadowClan sent Snakepaw, Kinkpaw, and Ivypaw. Owlpaw was too busy bouncing around Whitepaw, who said that she would rather hunt than sit around with her paw wrapped in herbs; Littlecloud told her that she was under no circumstances to risk agitating the injury. All of the RiverClan apprentices, even Willowpaw, offered to fish, and after an awkward pause the deputies okayed it. Since it was an individual competition, having more apprentices involved didn’t actually do anything for RiverClan’s total. “It’s okay, Lionpaw, Minnowpaw is tough,” Kestrelpaw piped up. “Shh,” Lionpaw hissed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He padded away, and Jaypaw knew better than to call him back in this state. “You sound almost as grumpy as Jaypaw,” Kestrelpaw told him, lying down next to Jaypaw. “Not quite. He’s a bad-tempered badger.” Jaypaw flicked his tail. “Could be worse. At least I’ve got claws.” “Now you’ve gotta dig us a camp,” Kestrelpaw mewed. “A whole entire camp by yourself. Don’t summon the other badgers!” Jaypaw didn’t have anything else to say; Kestrelpaw’s boundless enthusiasm was not contagious, and Jaypaw did not have the energy to respond to everything he said. “Wonder how they’re doing. Do you think Harepaw’s winning?” Kestrelpaw asked after a while. Jaypaw shrugged. “I don’t know.” He let his mind stretch to Hollypaw; she was stalking prey, and training sessions swam in her mind. “Probably not too bad.” Harepaw was charging through the forest; thorns poked at his pelt, and Jaypaw cringed at the faint pain pricks. Breezepaw scampered determinedly after a squirrel, thinking of one that had escaped recently, and suddenly something was very wrong. “Help!” Jaypaw wailed. Breezepaw had put his paw on the ground, and it had risen up around him, suffocating him. “What’s wrong, Jaypaw?” He had felt everyone around him flinch in shock as he had screamed; Ashfoot sounded very concerned, but he was certain it was for the wrong reason. “Breezepaw is in trouble,” he said, trying to give her a very serious look. “Breezepaw fell in a hole.” Ashfoot hesitated. “Can you lead me there?” Jaypaw froze. “I don’t know. I didn’t—uh.” He tried desperately to see where Breezepaw was, but the black apprentice thrashed wildly in the soft, crumbling earth. “I think he’s this way.” Jaypaw started in the direction Breezepaw might have gone, hating that he had so rarely been here. Ashfoot, Barkface, Crowfeather, Nightcloud, and Kestrelpaw followed him, as did a few unfamiliar cats from other Clans. Eventually he caught a noise of churning soil. A few heartbeats later the warriors with him heard it, too, and they passed Jaypaw up. Jaypaw sped up, passing them again and plunging his forepaws into the hole where Breezepaw was drowning. Immediately he regretted this. Hold on, Breezepaw. He scrambled back a pace, grasping fruitlessly for Breezepaw’s paw or tail or something he could pull. Crowfeather hauled him back. “This isn’t your job to do.” His father began scooping pawsful of earth away, and Jaypaw flattened his ears. That might have been a good idea if they had been here the moment Breezepaw had fallen in; now, it was too late for trying to dig him out one scoop at a time. Nightcloud shoved her mate aside, shrieking about her son’s death. “I can’t lose the last one,” Jaypaw managed to make out amidst her cries. She dove into the mud, and Jaypaw heard Ashfoot say something about keeping her muzzle out of the earth unless she knew she could get it back out. Eventually it was one of the ShadowClan warriors, Snowbird, who got a firm hold on Breezepaw’s scruff and dragged him out of the mud. Breezepaw coughed in vain, and it was Willowpaw and Mothwing who rushed to help him. Jaypaw knew Barkface was standing by, prepared to help, but it seemed the RiverClan cats had more experience in rescuing choking apprentices. “Breezepaw will be okay,” Mothwing eventually announced, and everyone relaxed. “Thank you,” Nightcloud breathed. Jaypaw could tell Breezepaw was not happy about her presence in front of the other cats; she embarrassed him. Breezepaw did not thank any of the cats, though Jaypaw thought he felt with his whiskers that the younger cat’s ears twitched toward the RiverClan medicine cats. Now that the crisis was over, his dislike of Breezepaw trickled back. He listened as the apprentice unearthed his previously caught prey. Mousebrain. Can’t he pay attention to where he’s going?“That was really amazing,” Kestrelpaw mewed in awe as they traveled back to where the hunting apprentices should have been. “How did you know what was happening?” “I think it was a sign from StarClan,” Jaypaw lied. He had gotten used to hiding his ability to see other cats’ thoughts and memories since Leafpool’s prying in his kithood. “Wow. Maybe that means you’ll be the leader,” Kestrelpaw suggested. “Mostly only medicine cats and leaders see StarClan things.” “Yeah, maybe.” Jaypaw knew that as a blind tunneler he could never hope to lead a Clan, but Kestrelpaw sounded convinced enough that he entertained the thought for a moment. Who hold the power of the stars in our paws, he remembered. He had thought at the time that if Spottedleaf was right—if this power he had was really because he was part of the old cat’s prophecy—it must be Hollypaw and Lionpaw as well, but then again, there were three Clans. Or there are now , anyway. What was it Spottedleaf had said? His destiny was entwined with ThunderClan? Maybe three of Firestar’s descendants were to become leaders of three Clans and bring ThunderClan back? But this was too grandiose. It was impossible. Breezepaw hissed as the results were tallied; Ivypaw had come in behind three RiverClan apprentices, Pebblepaw winning the match. Jaypaw sighed, ignoring Kestrelpaw’s puzzled mrr. He would never become leader. WindClan would never rely on a blind cat for their survival. But it looks like ThunderClan will, he thought grimly. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURHOLLYPAWThe sun was high in the sky. Hollypaw’s pelt was warm, and the trampled grass beneath her feet was soft. But this was not a time for relaxing. Hollypaw glared at Lionpaw, who had been on the dawn patrol and now lay sprawled on the ground. He didn’t notice her, but he did notice when Owlwhisker called sharply for him to stop dilly-dallying; her brother sprang to his paws and guiltily darted toward his mentor. Hollypaw picked up a mouse from the freshkill pile; she was not very hungry, but she needed to eat, just in case. Prey was plentiful enough in greenleaf that it would not hurt the Clan at all. “Hurry up,” she mewed to Breezepaw as he passed her, dragging his paws. He shot her a look of disgust and growled something she was glad she didn’t understand. It had been several days since the competition. She had expected Weaselfur to chew her out for losing the race, but he had only rolled his eyes, which was even more insulting. Whitetail had been much more sympathetic to Breezepaw, but he still seemed extremely put out by the whole thing. Hollypaw was at the camp entrance before Weaselfur, Whitetail, or Crowfeather. The warriors all arrived shortly; Heatherpaw and Breezepaw scampered up to join them. The three apprentices were set to battle train together. Hollypaw had sparred with Heatherpaw plenty of times; the light brown tabby was quicker on her paws, but Hollypaw had learned how to counter this. She was less acquainted with Breezepaw’s battling style, but she assumed he was fast as well. Why’d I have to be born in WindClan? she thought crossly, but she was not actually unhappy with her Clan. The other cats had mostly stopped calling her and her siblings “thunder,” so she had very little to truly complain about. Crowfeather was distant, but at least he seemed proud of her. Nightcloud gave her dirty looks, but she had the feeling she would not have liked Breezepaw’s mother anyway. Their mentors headed not toward the usual battling station but into the forest. Hollypaw searched Heatherpaw’s face to see if she had expected this, but the other apprentice looked equally confused if not more. “We thought it was best to learn how to fight with obstacles present,” Whitetail announced over her shoulder. “The forest is part of our territory, and everyone must be prepared to defend against ShadowClan invasion. Additionally, if we ever end up tangled in a fight in RiverClan’s territory, we must be aware of the trees, though it is marshier there than here.” “Getting into a fight in the middle of RiverClan territory is an extremely bad idea,” Crowfeather added. “I’ve been through—close to their camp—enough times to tell you for sure that WindClan tactics will not work in the wetlands.” “Fish are gross anyway,” Heatherpaw muttered. Hollypaw snickered. “Didn’t stop you last time.” Heatherpaw had been excited to try one of the fish Pebblepaw caught at the apprentices' tournament. “They were terrible,” Heatherpaw protested. Breezepaw growled, “WindClan cats don’t eat fish, wetpaw.” Heatherpaw bumped her shoulder against his. “Not more than once, at least!” “This is the training hollow,” Whitetail mewed. Was Hollypaw imagining it, or did the white warrior sound sad? Crowfeather demonstrated a strange move against Weaselfur, whose greenish eyes glittered with cold triumph. Crowfeather crashed down forepaws-first onto Weaselfur’s shoulder, then flipped him onto the ground and kicked with a hind paw. “That’s a tactic we don’t use much, since we’re smaller than RiverClan cats, but it could come in handy on this border.” Breezepaw curled his lip. “I don’t see why we have to learn two sets of battle moves. WindClan’s got more apprentices than the other Clans; we’re going to have the most warriors soon.” “Learning the correct moves will limit bloodshed,” said Whitetail. “Now watch.” Crowfeather performed the same move a second time. “It’s a move that usually only works if you are at least as big as your opponent,” cautioned Crowfeather. Was that doubt in his blue eyes? Whitetail suggested having the apprentices try the motion on their mentors, since they wouldn’t be able to hurt them without claws. The mentors were to pretend the apprentices were strong enough to bowl them over so that they could carry out the full move. She warned them that it was difficult to pull off safely against a smaller cat, since so much of it relied on the attacker’s weight. Hollypaw slammed her paws onto Weaselfur’s shoulder, and he grunted as he rolled to the ground. “Guess that one would come more naturally to you,” he muttered, giving Crowfeather a sideways look. “It’s in your blood, after all.” “Stop it, Weaselfur.” Crowfeather turned his attention from Heatherpaw, scrambling to his paws as she huffed in annoyance. “You know I am a loyal WindClan warrior. Nightcloud and Breezepaw are proof of that.” Breezepaw bristled but said nothing, performing the paw attack on Whitetail with extra conviction. Hollypaw twitched her tail as the white she-cat rolled over, apparently surprised at the impact her apprentice’s tiny paws carried. “I know nothing of the sort,” Weaselfur mewed, turning up his nose. “As far as I’m concerned, you haven’t been a WindClan warrior since—” “Weaselfur,” Whitetail warned. “Crowfeather is a WindClan cat, and he is here with us now. Do not incite more hostilities. WindClan must stay unified if we are to last each leafbare season.” Breezepaw narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth at his mentor behind her back. Hollypaw tried to look disapproving, but Crowfeather noticed her face and asked, “Is everything all right, Hollypaw?” “I’m okay,” she said, not sure if she was exactly lying. Breezepaw’s problems weren’t really her business, were they? And Weaselfur’s words scared her, but Whitetail was an older warrior whose protection carried more significance than her mentor’s hate. Her father blinked slowly to reassure her. “That’s good.” Breezepaw made a sound somewhere between a hiss and a snort—Hollypaw didn’t think she could recreate it if she tried. Crowfeather sighed, apparently dreading something. Whitetail soon ordered training to begin again. Hollypaw thought she was close to mastering the paw-slam attack, and Whitetail showed them a move where the attacker scrambled a few tail-lengths up a tree stump and then pounced away from it, twisting in midair to catch the opponent off guard with all four paws. As they walked back to camp, Hollypaw noticed her belly rumbling. There will be more mice. Padding beside her father, she thought how lucky she was to be a WindClan cat. I’ll prove myself one day. Maybe she would even get to be leader. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVELIONPAWHeatherpaw’s banded tail disappeared into the shadowy grass, and Lionpaw bounded after it. “Hey, wait for me.” “Try to keep up, slowpoke!” she laughed, but he was pretty sure she did slow down a little, because he managed to catch up to her. “Where are we going?” he puffed, trying to stay by her side. “I found a cool tunnel in the woods.” Her heather-colored eyes sparked playfully in the low light. “You can hear water.” Lionpaw faltered, puzzled. “Water in the tunnels?” “Yeah. I bet I could have found it, but I didn’t want to get trapped down there. But with two of us…” Lionpaw’s paws prickled. “You think we should explore it?” “It’s so cool,” she breathed, stopping for a moment. “It’s close to here.” She put her nose to the ground and wove through the forest, pushing past a cluster of ferns and leading Lionpaw to a gaping dark hole in the ground. “I don’t like it,” he mumbled. It reminded him of a mouth, or maybe the hole where an eye should be. It didn’t like him very much, and he didn’t like it either. Don’t be such a kit, he told himself; the tunnels are just hollow ground, not a creature.“Are you scared?” Heatherpaw teased, eyes wide. “You know there’s no badgers down there.” That was not as reassuring as it should have been. “I’m not scared,” he insisted. “I just don’t like it.” Heatherpaw rubbed her head against his shoulder. “C’mon, I’m going to need a big strong cat to dig me out of there.” “Don’t say that,” Lionpaw cried, alarmed. She couldn’t get crushed in the earth; he’d heard from Jaypaw what had happened to Breezepaw. The younger apprentice had refused to talk about it, but he had accepted Lionpaw’s attempts at comfort. Heatherpaw purred, amused. “You really are scared.” “No.” Lionpaw sat down and hunched his shoulders. Heatherpaw would look down on him now, wouldn’t she? “We can go somewhere else if you want, I guess. Or back to camp,” she suggested unenthusiastically. “No, we can go in the tunnels.” Lionpaw glanced uneasily at the gaping mouth in the ground again. “It sounds interesting.” Heatherpaw brightened. “Then what are you waiting for?” She hopped down into the earth below. “Don’t fall behind.” Lionpaw shuddered and joined her in the tunnel. The air was cooler here. He had been a short way into some of the tunnels in WindClan territory, but this entrance was larger and more ominous, and he didn’t have an experienced tunneler like Ashfoot as his guide. Heatherpaw’s claws scraped stone and tree roots; the clicking echoed through the tunnels, and each time Lionpaw felt like a gust of cold, watery air passed through his body. He wanted to tell her to stop making the noise, but she wasn’t doing it on purpose; he would have sounded mean. The tunnel narrowed considerably. Lionpaw didn’t have to fight his shoulders through or anything—they seemed large enough for just about any cat—but his whiskers dragged in the earthy walls. “Okay, this is as far as I’ve been,” she said. “You can come up next to me.” Lionpaw tentatively stepped forward, and his whiskers no longer brushed the wall of the tunnel. The icy feeling he had experienced from Heatherpaw’s echoing scrapes now resonated from deeper in. “It forks,” she told him, sounding disappointed. “I tried going down that direction once.” She didn’t even try to show him which way she meant. “The water was too loud; I think this place floods in the rain. But the other direction—I’ve never been that way.” “Oh.” Lionpaw swallowed and followed her as she padded slowly down the tunnel. It remained wide here, but he didn’t want to risk sliding on the uneven ground. He didn’t feel any pawprints; the floor was made of smooth ridges that suggested it had been shaped by running water. Soon enough he heard the water Heatherpaw had mentioned. It sounded like a deep, distant roar, and he didn’t like the chills it sent through his fur. “Please don’t fall in,” he whispered hoarsely. Heatherpaw giggled. “I wasn’t planning to.” Lionpaw suppressed a hiss of frustration. “I mean it!” He sounded angrier than he meant. “I mean, I don’t want you to drown,” he added in a softer tone. Heatherpaw purred. “Okay, I think we’re here,” she said after some time. Lionpaw felt mist across his muzzle, and the rushing river thundered before him. “It is really cool,” he said aloud, partly to himself. To Heatherpaw he said, “Where d’you suppose the water all goes to?” “The lake, I guess,” she said dismissively. “I guess.” Lionpaw tasted the air and found only stone and dampness. “I proclaim myself Heatherstar, leader of DarkClan,” she yowled above the noise of the water. “And you are my deputy, Lionclaw!” “DarkClan has had a little trouble with RiverClan,” Lionpaw reported, hoping Heatherpaw understood he was talking about the tunnel water, “but I chased ’em off just fine!” He heard Heatherpaw moving—maybe waving her tail? “But RiverClan are our allies,” she mewed mischievously. “Lionclaw, you’re not plotting against us, are you?” “It’s true! I’ve been trying to take your place all along!” Lionpaw almost pounced at her, but he remembered where he was. “By making my own alliance with ShadowClan.” “But Lionclaw, I thought we were mates,” Heatherpaw whined playfully. “Do our kits mean nothing to you?” Lionpaw was startled at the flood of emotion in his own heart. “Uh, well, I wasn’t going to kill you. But—we can make our own Clan, with both of us as leaders!” “DarkClan has always been a strange Clan,” she mused. “But we are unforgiving of traitors!” Their game continued for a while, and Lionpaw felt himself relaxing about the surrounding darkness, the noisy roar, the swift water, and the chilly air. Even with no light, he gradually started feeling at home. “We should probably get back to camp,” Heatherpaw said after a while. Lionpaw felt a flash of panic as he wondered how they would navigate their way out of the tunnel, but then he remembered how short a distance he had walked into the river cavern. They made it out without any difficulty. “Let’s do that again sometime, Lion claw,” she whispered. He nosed her ear. “Well, Brindlekit and Firekit need us,” he said. They curled up to sleep under the silvery moonlight, and Lionpaw realized just how much he was looking forward to being alone with Heatherpaw again. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXJAYPAWJaypaw had been to this section of the tunnels only once before. He had marveled then at the force of the water, but Ashfoot had told him above the din that this was a dangerous place, not worth the meager chance for hunting it provided. But Jaypaw felt like this was the place he was wanted. He thought he had caught a flash of movement far off on a ledge over the water, where the river thundered from a hole in the stone, and he wanted to investigate. The misty froth from the water battered his whiskers, and Jaypaw reflexively backed away from the water until he felt his pelt pressed up against damp rock. Maybe this was a mistake. He had been assigned a solo hunting mission, and he knew Ashfoot was not following him. He was completely alone. Unless the cave cat was real. “Hello,” he croaked. He didn’t think any cat could have heard it over the noise of the river, so he tried again. “Hello?” That time wasn’t much better. But there—it looked like—he shivered; it had looked uncomfortably similar to the cold gray light from Darkstripe’s dead eyes. “Who’s there?” he whispered. Why did I do this alone?Nothing had been making any sounds that he had been able to detect over the river even before he had spoken, but he still felt now as if something had stopped. Stopped moving, probably. Then there was a scraping noise. Jaypaw inched toward the tunnel he had used to enter, but then a voice said, “Wait.” It sounded ancient. “Who are you?” Jaypaw whimpered. He saw a faint whitish-blue circle—no, two of them. Eyes.The other cat made a rattling, wheezing noise. “Hello. I don’t suppose you are a ghost.” Jaypaw’s fur now stood at its tallest point. “No.” The strange cat wheezed again. “Oh, I know this already. Leave.” Jaypaw strained to see the cat, but even with his cave vision he could not pick it out from the lightless rocks; the flashes he had caught of its eyes had vanished. “What is your name?” He was certain the cat had gone. Terrified, he scrambled to leave, but he slipped on the slick stone and slid a few taillengths across the floor. Spatters of water drenched his pelt. But what was that? He saw something. Something that wasn’t alive. Jaypaw picked himself up and cautiously stretched forward; whatever it was had dissolved into shadow again. He felt something smooth and worn, almost like the log from the lakeshore to the Gathering island but older. It was a stick, nearly the length of his tail, rod-straight with no branching twigs. The bark had been stripped from it long ago, and the wood underneath was soft, almost splintering beneath his toes. Countless thin clawmarks marred its surface; many of them had extra clawmarks scratched through them, but some were only single lines. Jaypaw knew the stick must be incredibly important. It had something to do with the prophecy, he was sure—but what could an old stick matter? He was still a bit too small to carry it with ease, and he wasn’t sure if he could bring it all the way to the surface, but it was better this way. He rolled it over to where the cavern’s floor met the walls and then darted back up the tunnel. It did not take long for him to find a scent trail over in the nearby rabbit warren, and although his mind was still on the stranger from the tunnels, he managed to catch it. Jaypaw dropped his rabbit on the freshkill pile. “You’ve been gone a while,” Crowfeather greeted him. “Good catch, but try not to worry us so much.” Jaypaw heard Nightcloud hiss, and Crowfeather said, “I love all of my kits; they are all growing up to be strong WindClan warriors.” Jaypaw decided to do something he had not done for a while: visit Leafpool. On his way, he passed a very distressed Hollypaw flouncing to the medicine den with her mouth full of pungent herbs. What’s her deal? Medicine cat sounds like the worst job.Leafpool was not doing any better than she had been the last time Jaypaw had visited her, but she did not seem to be doing any worse, either. Her fur was very well groomed, as he could tell when she touched her tail to his shoulder; this was about the only thing she had to do. Jaypaw felt Rushtail’s unfriendly gaze, but Webfoot and Morningflower greeted him pleasantly enough. “You’ve done amazingly as Ashfoot’s apprentice,” Leafpool told him, voice dripping with warmth. Gross.But not so gross that I won’t show off. “I caught another rabbit today,” Jaypaw bragged. Morningflower purred and thumped her tail on the ground. “I remember hunting when I was young.” He could feel her interested, probing look, but he ignored it. “WindClan had some difficulties.” “We ended up pushed from our home,” Rushtail hissed. “Like ThunderClan,” Jaypaw blurted before he could stop himself. All four elders froze. “Yes,” Morningflower whispered. “Like ThunderClan.” Leafpool sounded very much like she wanted to talk, but Webfoot cut her off. “ThunderClan was accidentally pushed from the forest by our hunting patrols. It wasn’t right, we know that now, but we were hungry, Onestar said to go in their territory, and when we were cornered, we fought. No cat expected it to go this far.” Jaypaw examined Webfoot’s thoughts and found mostly signs of him hunting in the forest and battling cats Jaypaw had never seen. “ThunderClan was a very strong Clan until two warriors ripped it apart,” Leafpool said quietly. Jaypaw was almost afraid of her now; she had never showed any sign of dangerous depths before, but maybe the past carried more weight for her. “Who is Firestar?” Jaypaw demanded. He felt shock ripple through the other cats. “How do you know that name?” Rushtail barked. “Calm down, Rushtail. Firestar was a leader a long, long time ago,” Morningflower whispered. “He was my friend, and Ashfoot’s and Onestar’s, too. But the past is done and over with.” Jaypaw glared at the elders. “I want to know what happened,” he insisted. But no one would tell him any more, and by the time he was called to training, he wished he had never spoken to them at all. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENJAYPAW“All I’m saying is it’d be fun to fly.” “Shut up, Kestrelpaw,” Hollypaw grunted. “I’m trying to sleep.” “See, she’s not a bird,” Kestrelpaw said knowledgeably to Jaypaw. “Her power’d be something more like poisoning cats. But only if they bit her.” Hollypaw groaned. “Go to sleep.” “Lionpaw would be huge…r,” Kestrelpaw added, “and Antpaw would be really, really small.” “You know, we really should go to sleep,” Jaypaw agreed. He didn’t so much mind Kestrelpaw’s chatter, but he was tired, and his anger at the elders had not ebbed one bit. The subject of powers was also a bit disorienting, considering he could not admit to his. “Harepaw could jump pretty high and fast, and maybe make his own tunnels. Heatherpaw would, uh—” Breezepaw sat up. “Kestrelpaw, if you don’t stop right now I am going to gut you.” “But you get to be invisible and move fast without touching the ground,” Kestrelpaw pointed out. “That’s a cool power, and I bet you could fly, too.” “That’s what flying is, mousebrain. I have training tomorrow, and I want to sleep,” Breezepaw snarled. “It is very important that I sleep now. Maybe a medicine kit wouldn’t know.” “I’m not a kit,” Kestrelpaw mewed quietly. “And that’s big talk for someone who can get hurt in his sleep.” “I’m not getting hurt in my sleep, badgerbrain,” Breezepaw snarled. “Breezepaw!” Eaglestep growled. “They’re trying to bait me into this,” Breezepaw hissed. Eaglestep stood up, looming over the apprentices. “All of you, go to sleep.” Breezepaw flopped back down. Jaypaw was secretly relieved Eaglestep had butted in; he wasn’t going to be the one to tell Kestrelpaw to shut up, but this was his chance to rest. Today had certainly been a strange day. Jaypaw opened his eyes and knew he was dreaming. Not just because he could see, but also because he was in a place he had never been. Strange scents swirled around him, and wind as icy as the dark river where he had seen the mysterious stranger nearly sent him toppling from the smooth stone ledge. Jaypaw headed down the slope. Parts of it were steep, and the coldness of the rock stung his paws, but his claws had a decent hold on the jagged ruts in the path. He caught sight of a river, a bright, fresh, foamy stream flowing toward his peak from the base of a waterfall. He shivered, anticipating how the water would feel on his pelt, and knew he was supposed to leap. The water caught him, bubbling around him, but it was not as cold as it should have been. It is a dream, he reminded himself, paddling upstream much more easily than he could have in the living world. A strange pawstep pattern caught Jaypaw’s attention, and he looked up to see several cats. Their pelts wavered the same way Spottedleaf’s and Darkstripe’s did, but they shimmered with neither stars nor grime; rather, they were streaked with mud, but mud that looked natural and comfortable. “Who are you?” Jaypaw growled, not sure whether he could trust them. He assumed this was some sort of StarClan place, since it was mostly pleasant, but there was no guarantee. “My name is Ice on Highest Mountain,” the gray-and-white cat said. “My companions are Smoke over Distant Forest and Bright Moon in Dark Sky.” The cat’s eyes twinkled, apparently noticing Jaypaw’s confusion at the long names. “You can call us Ice, Smoke, and Bright.” “My name is Jaypaw, but you can’t just call me Jay,” Jaypaw meowed. “Where am I?” “We are members of the Tribe of Endless Hunting,” mewed Bright; they had a surprisingly low voice despite being noticeably smaller than the others. Jaypaw stared at the three cats. “What are you talking about?” Ice’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “We’re dead; we used to belong to the Tribe of Rushing Water.” “What?” Jaypaw climbed out of the water, bracing himself for the frigid air, but it was only a bit cool on his fur. “I don’t know what that is. I’m from WindClan.” “The Clans passed through here many seasons ago,” Smoke observed. “You were not among them, were you? You are young, and you do not seem to be a spirit.” “I’m dreaming.” Jaypaw craned his neck and saw a cave behind the waterfall. “In life, this was our home. It was not quite as pleasant as what you see, but it was a refuge for your predecessors.” Ice stood over Jaypaw, but he didn’t seem threatening. “The cave you see there—in the waking world you would see the Tribe of Rushing Water, but we have a quite different view.” He led Jaypaw up into the cave, where a surprisingly lush system of shimmering caves, moss, and water flourished. “Greetings, Ice.” “Greetings, Sand,” said Ice. To Jaypaw he said, “Our cave here is infinite. One day, when you join the ranks of StarClan, you will be able to visit it.” A white cat with emerald green eyes emerged from one of the tunnels. “Jay’s Wing,” she called. “Is that you?” He could almost see through her. Almost. She was not as transparent as a couple of the other cats he could see, but her pale fur allowed him to see the shape of the rocks and ferns behind her. Jaypaw stared at her, and Ice shook his head. “Half Moon is waiting for someone she lost many, many seasons before my time,” the gray-and-white tom said quietly. “She is one of the oldest spirits in the Tribe of Endless Hunting. She would have faded long ago but for the tales of her journey from afar.” “Do you think Jay’s Wing will ever come?” Jaypaw’s heart beat more quickly at the sound of the name; it was so close to his that he almost believed he could be the cat Half Moon sought. Ice sighed. “I do not know.” “He will,” said Half Moon with certainty. She did not seem old, but Jaypaw supposed this was only because she was a spirit. “Jay’s Wing will come, and I will be here when he does.” CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHTHOLLYPAW“Pay attention, Lionpaw.” Owlwhisker’s amber eyes were once again narrowed in frustration with his apprentice. Weaselfur said something about thunder under his breath. Hollypaw frowned. Is every cat’s head full of bees?Jaypaw had been acting very strangely the past few days, Breezepaw was still bossy, and Lionpaw and Heatherpaw were both lethargic. Antpaw, Emberpaw, Harepaw, and Kestrelpaw were their usual selves, but with the exception of Harepaw she made no effort to interact with them. “Lionpaw, it’s not even a difficult move,” Hollypaw complained as he stared at his mentor. “I can do it,” Antpaw pointed out. “If I can do it, so can you. I heard you almost killed a cat once.” He sneered, and Eaglestep glared at his apprentice. Gorsetail had had to step down a while ago due to having kits—Hollypaw had thought he smelled like he could have kits, but he said he was a tom—and they had been born only a couple of days ago. “Lionpaw was caught up in the heat of battle. It can happen to any cat. He has not done so since.” Eaglestep’s blue eyes flashed angrily. “You’ve barely mastered a move; Lionpaw has put in much more work, both to perform the moves and to hold back.” “I’m just tired,” Lionpaw said, yawning. Of course you are.Owlwhisker waited for a few heartbeats, then said, “Okay. We’re going to have a battle now; Hollypaw, Antpaw, and me against Lionpaw, Eaglestep, and Weaselfur.” “That’s not fair,” objected Weaselfur. Hollypaw’s whiskers twitched with amusement. Really?Owlwhisker lashed his tail. “It is entirely fair, Weaselfur. If you would like to pass mentorship of Hollypaw on to another cat, I suppose it is still possible; Mottlenose and Tawnyfur do not have their paws full.” Hollypaw was glad he hadn’t brought up Nightcloud or Onestar. Weaselfur bared his teeth. “I’m just tired of dealing with all the thunder around here, that’s all.” “It is time to hold a mock battle,” Owlwhisker said very loudly. “Three, two, one, go.” The tabby pounced at Weaselfur, looking fierce but with his claws still sheathed and his mouth still closed. Hollypaw sprang at Lionpaw. He reacted with surprise, as if he hadn’t realized they were even having a battle. What’s going on with him?Lionpaw was still more muscular than Hollypaw, but his attacks were sluggish. She managed to execute some of the moves she had learned with Breezepaw and Heatherpaw in the forest; she couldn’t throw Lionpaw to the ground, but she could shove him, and he would stagger aside. You used to be an amazing fighter. What happened? Had Lionpaw even been sleeping? And Heatherpaw used to be a good hunter, she realized. Not bad in battle, but a great hunter, and she isn’t anymore.“Are you not sleeping?” she asked. “Are you doing something with Heatherpaw?” “Huh?” Lionpaw’s amber eyes widened, and Hollypaw felt a thrill of triumph. “You are!” she mewed. “You need to stop.” “What do you—no I’m not.” Lionpaw swatted at her, but his paw moved like it was made of mud; it was forceful but too slow to knock her aside at all. “Lionpaw, you’ve gone back to how you were at fighting in the beginning,” she pointed out. “You’re swinging your paws at me, but half the time you’re not hitting me at all.” He scowled at her, reminding her disconcertingly of Breezepaw. “I’m fighting fine.” He threw himself at her, and his weight was enough to push her down, but he didn’t try to put his paws on her. She leapt back to her feet. “I’m not saying you can’t hang out with Heatherpaw. You just can’t do it when you’re supposed to be sleeping.” Lionpaw hissed. “You collect herbs for Kestrelpaw!” “Only when I have free time!” Hollypaw kicked at her brother’s paws, and he stumbled. “Hollypaw,” mewed Eaglestep. His gray tail twitched. “Battle’s over.” She scrambled away from Lionpaw, who yawned again. “If I had used my claws, I would have defeated him very quickly,” she reported to Weaselfur. “Great.” Weaselfur shrugged, yellow-green eyes disinterested. “We’re going to camp.” Hollypaw went to the medicine den, where Mottlenose was being treated for a nasty-looking bite on her shoulder. Whitetail and had scratches, too, and there was a strange scent on them. “Fox,” Kestrelpaw explained, noticing Hollypaw smelling the air. “Whitetail found it. Breezepaw got a message here for backup, and Mottlenose was first into battle.” Hollypaw stared at the gash in Mottlenose’s pelt. It looked painful, and blood seeped from the wound; already-fallen blood ran down the warrior’s foreleg. The warrior’s pale green eyes cut into her like fangs. “I am a warrior,” she growled. “You will suffer wounds as well. I wish it did not have to be this way, but you must acquaint yourself with the perils of battle.” Hollypaw nodded. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked, worried she had offended the brown she-cat. “Do not apologize for my wound,” Mottlenose commanded her. “Apologize only for what you yourself have done. Right now, it is nothing.” “Right.” Hollypaw had rarely spoken to Mottlenose; she seemed like a nice enough cat, but Hollypaw was certain she had never had kits of her own—she spoke like a medicine cat talking to an ancient leader, and she was kind of creepy. Hollypaw set off to gather burnet, which Kestrelpaw said was running low. I’ll have to talk to Lionpaw again sometime. She could not let him fall behind. But as she rounded the crest of the hill where Kestrelpaw had told her to look, she spotted an invader. Pelting down the hill, she recognized Willowpaw, who glanced up guiltily. “Hollypaw!” the RiverClan medicine apprentice gasped, sounding relieved. “I was worried you were someone else. Uh, anyone else, really—I mean, uh, hi.” “What?” Hollypaw stared at her. Willowpaw was both a resourceful fighter and a talented medicine cat; what could possibly bring her here? Willowpaw shifted from paw to paw. “I came to collect comfrey, since it’s such a great place for herbs.” Defiance flashed in her dark eyes. “Don’t tell me off. I need it.” Hollypaw blinked. “Well, okay, but what for?” Willowpaw sighed. “Come with me.” CHAPTER THIRTY-NINEHOLLYPAWHollypaw’s pelt itched with guilt as she crept along the lakeshore. I’m sorry, WindClan. The burnet tickled her mouth, and she knew she would have a lot to answer for when she returned. Willowpaw suddenly sped up, leaping through the mud, and Hollypaw followed. The gray tabby led her to the fallen tree lying over the lake. “You live on the island?” she panted through her mouthful of leaves. Willowpaw nodded. Skidding to a halt in the bushes and dropping her bundle of comfrey, she said to Mothwing, “She caught me trespassing—don’t tell anyone! She won’t get me in trouble if I show her what’s happening.” “You aren’t allowed on our territory,” Hollypaw pointed out. Willowpaw made a sound of frustration. “I know that, Hollypaw, but—” “Come back here, Sneezekit!” A dark brown tabby she-cat dashed after a tiny, fluffy gray-and-white kit. “Graymist’s been looking everywhere for you; where’s Mallowkit?” Hollypaw stared. “Everyone is here.” “Not right now,” Willowpaw mewed grimly. “Hawkfrost’s taken a patrol to our camp,” Mothwing growled. The hatred in her amber eyes was palpable, and Hollypaw shuddered. “Leopardstar can’t do anything to stop him.” “Can I do anything?” Hollypaw asked. Willowpaw glanced at Mothwing. “You could come with Blackclaw and us,” she suggested. “He wants to block up the stream.” Hollypaw was very confused now. “Won’t that make it hard to fish?” Willowpaw shook her head. “We won’t block the whole stream, and mostly all we’re going to end up doing is making a pond and a dam.” “Well, okay.” Hollypaw stretched. “Are we going now?” “Yes.” Mothwing padded into the center of the clearing. “Blackclaw, Swallowtail, we’re ready.” A dusky brown tom and the tabby who had caught Sneezekit approached them. “Who is that?” rasped Blackclaw. “A WindClan apprentice who wants to help.” Mothwing dipped her head. “Willowpaw ran into her, and she offered her paws.” Blackclaw sized her up. One of his pale amber eyes was clouded with cataracts. “Well, more paws is always good,” he growled. “Let’s go.” He led them back across the log and through the wet, uncomfortable marsh. “What’s that sound?” Hollypaw whimpered. Strange cries rang through the thin forest, resonating in the still leaffall air. “You’ll see.” Willowpaw grimaced, sharp teeth gleaming. Peering from behind a prickly yew bush, Hollypaw spotted strange creatures. “What are they?” she breathed. They were mostly hairless and bundled in colorful, smooth pelts. Two of them stampeded around the clearing, apparently delighted with the splashing water, and a third, smaller one crawled around in what she assumed must be a den. It barely fit, and its back ripped holes in the roof. Two larger creatures of the same species sat on a log nearby; one held a tiny rectangle up, pointing it at what Hollypaw realized must be its kits. “Twolegs,” Blackclaw whispered. Hollypaw tried not to be disrespectful, but his fish-breath really was foul. “They keep comin’ into our camp and stompin’ it around.” Hollypaw smelled the air. “They’re disgusting,” she whispered. “Hawkfrost thinks if he gets Pouncepaw to distract the full-grown Twolegs his patrol can attack the kits and they’ll never come back,” Mothwing explained. “I don’t think it’ll work; Twolegs are all friends with other Twolegs, and they’ve hurt the Clans a lot before. Chased us all out of the forest.” Willowpaw scampered away, and Swallowtail told Hollypaw that part of the plan was to distract Hawkfrost so that he couldn’t incite the Twolegs’ wrath. Blackclaw led them now farther upstream. Hollypaw realized why he hadn’t simply moved the stones on his own; they were heavy, and it took a lot of effort to move just one. Blackclaw wheezed as he rolled one into the water. It didn’t take all that long to stop up the stream; only a little bit of water trickled out now. “That should do it,” Blackclaw meowed, panting. They headed back toward the camp; Mothwing tracked down Willowpaw and Hawkfrost’s patrol. “The Twolegs should not return to our camp,” Mothwing announced. Hawkfrost snarled. “This was your doing!” “Yes, it was my doing to get the Twolegs out of camp,” Mothwing agreed coldly. “Soon enough it will be leafbare, and the Twolegs only like falling down hills in leafbare. Once newleaf comes they will have forgotten the way here, and they will visit only upstream, where they cannot disturb our camp.” Hatred smoldered in both cats’ eyes, and Hollypaw wished she were still young enough that she could reasonably hide behind a warrior. Hawkfrost’s eyes locked on her. “Who is that?” “She helped us,” Blackclaw told the RiverClan deputy with an air of finality. “She will not continue to trespass; she was only ever here with permission.” “Not my permission,” Hawkfrost objected. “No,” said Mothwing. “Mine.” CHAPTER FORTYJAYPAWThe lake lapped at the shore, and Jaypaw was glad he wasn’t a RiverClan cat. The water in his dream of the mountains had not been too bad, but that was only because he had felt like a different cat then. Dreams were a strange thing. This water was cold and unforgiving, especially after the recent rains. Jaypaw had fallen a bit behind the patrol, but this had become routine. They knew now that he was a good enough tracker that he would never get lost just by being slow, so as long as he stayed within a range where they could see him they weren’t worried. Jaypaw fought his way through a tangle of reeds. He could have gone around, but he didn’t feel like it. I’m stronger than a couple plants. The lake water pooled on both sides, and continuing through the ferns was probably a drier path anyway. But he tripped. Jaypaw crashed to the ground, rattling the cattails and reeds around him, and felt something hard against his jaw. It hadn’t hurt him, at least. His jaw was intact, and he could move it without any real pain, though it ached a bit from the impact. And yet there was something about the rock he had hit… It wasn’t a rock. Jaypaw placed his paw on it and recognized it instantly. My stick! It carried the ancient air of the tunnels with it, and its barkless wood was scored by countless clawmarks. But what’s it doing out here?The rushing water nearby answered his question almost instantly. The tunnels must release their water here when they overflowed; the stick must have been carried by the current and gotten tangled in the base of the reeds. And then he was watching—he could see. He saw a ginger-and-white cat beside a river. The cave. And up on the rocky ledge he had seen was a nearly hairless cat with slightly-less-bulbous but still hauntingly familiar white-blue eyes. “Who are you?” the spotted cat meowed nervously. “My name is Rock.” Rock’s remaining fur was ragged, moth-eaten. “Welcome, Fallen Leaves. Is it raining?” He leaned toward Fallen Leaves. “If it is, you should wait for another day.” “No,” said Fallen Leaves. “Strange,” Rock mewed softly. “The rain falls fast in my eyes.” Fallen Leaves looked defiant. “It’s not raining. I can do it today.” Rock shrugged. “If you insist. Fallen Leaves, if you wish to become a sharpclaw, you must free yourself from this tunnel. Because you have elected to complete this challenge today, I can be of no help in navigation. I wish you well, softpaw.” Jaypaw saw his stick! Rock balanced it in the curve of one paw and meticulously dragged a single claw through it. He did not add a strike through this one. He stared up at the cave ceiling for a moment, and Jaypaw could see sadness welling in his silvery eyes. He did not mark the scratch with a second line. Softpaw? Sharpclaw? Jaypaw found himself flying along behind Fallen Leaves as the now-nervous tom padded into a tunnel. Jaypaw didn’t think it was a familiar one, but he had always navigated by scent, sound, and feel, never by sight. Sure enough, Fallen Leaves reached a dead end. Now fearful, the tabby whirled and bolted clumsily down the tunnel, stumbling in the dark. Jaypaw cringed as Fallen Leaves slammed face-first into the rock. Beginner’s mistake.And now the thundering of water had returned. But Jaypaw didn’t know this place. Fallen Leaves got back to his paws, shook his head to clear it, and tried a new tunnel. Dead end. Water crashed over him, and Jaypaw shrieked. “Jaypaw,” Ashfoot called, sounding only slightly alarmed. He had had the vision almost instantaneously. “Are you okay?” “I’m coming,” he howled back, shoving the stick down into the cattails. “I just tripped.” “You should go around next time,” Ashfoot scolded gently. But Jaypaw was sure that as long as he lived he would never willingly set paw in the water. CHAPTER FORTY-ONEHOLLYPAWHawkfrost’s boiling blue glare was still fixed on Hollypaw’s back as she said her goodbyes to Willowpaw, Mothwing, Blackclaw, and Swallowtail. She rolled in the sand by the lake for a moment, hoping no one would be able to smell RiverClan scent on her, and trotted back to where Kestrelpaw had sent her for herbs. He was there now. “Hollypaw! Where did you go?” His blue eyes clouded with confusion. “You’re all dirty, too.” She licked at her black fur, regretting that she hadn’t washed the sand off in the lake. “I went the wrong way and tripped,” she said. “Well, now you can help me with the burnet.” He pulled a long leaf from the ground. “Burnet and comfrey.” Hollypaw helped him. He showed her where some had been stolen. “I think it was Willowpaw. I’m not going to rat on her this time, but if you ever notice she’s taken more, we should do something about it.” Hollypaw nodded. “Smells like her,” she mewed evasively. Once Kestrelpaw was satisfied that they’d gathered enough, they headed back to camp together and deposited the herbs in neat stacks in the medicine den. Hollypaw was exhausted from her excursion; she passed Lionpaw as he left the den. At least he’s sleeping, I guess, she thought. Daytime probably isn’t the best time for that.Gorsetail’s kits had opened their eyes, and Thistlekit charged across the clearing to join her. Gorsetail hadn’t told anyone who the other parent was, and no cat had stepped forward. Hollypaw wasn’t sure whether she trusted that his kits were full WindClan, but she was determined to treat them like they belonged anyway. She had chosen to believe his mate was another WindClan cat to prevent herself from losing respect for him. Thistlekit’s long, soft white fur was messy. “Who are you?” she whispered, dark gray-blue kitten-eyes huge. “I don’t know you.” “Hollypaw. I’m an apprentice.” “I’m goin’ to be an apprentice soon,” said Thistlekit with a strong air of self-importance. Hollypaw purred, amused. Thistlekit glared at her. “I’m old enough!” The kit was under half a moon old. “Oh, right,” said Hollypaw. “I must have been confused, since I’ve never met you before, but now I see how big and fierce you are.” Thistlekit looked appeased. “Can I come in the medicine den with you?” Hollypaw thought for a moment. “Sure.” Thistlekit would probably be a pain to deal with soon, but for now Hollypaw could act almost like a mentor to her. I wonder if I could teach a kit not to be annoying.Thistlekit gaped awestruck at the interior of the den. It was not well lit, but toward the back of the crevice it opened again to the sky, and the tangle of gorse that created the ceiling there allowed some light to filter in. Barkface looked surprised to see Hollypaw with the kit. “You’re back sooner than I expected,” he rasped. “Thistlekit wanted to look in here.” The fuzzy kit sniffed at the catmint, and Hollypaw put her paw on it. “That’s only for when you’re very sick.” Thistlekit blinked sadly at her. “But I’m sick!” she wailed, flopping to the ground. “I need a leaf!” “You’re not sick,” Hollypaw sighed. “Get up.” Thistlekit kept wailing, and Barkface rolled to his paws and touched his nose to her pelt. “It is okay, Thistlekit,” he murmured. “The leaf smells sweet, but it has a very bitter and unpleasant taste. Yuck. Yucky leaf.” Thistlekit stopped her tantrum and stared at the medicine cat. Hollypaw thought it was clever of Barkface to lie about the leaf, but Thistlekit didn’t look as if she truly believed him. “I think you will find more entertaining things to do out in the camp clearing,” Barkface suggested. “Perhaps Hollypaw could show you around the old badger setts.” Thistlekit stood up. “Okay,” she said, sounding very disappointed. Hollypaw guided the kit back through Barkface’s boulder and into the open, then to one of the dens. “Sometimes, when the weather is nasty, the warriors and apprentices sleep down in this hole.” Thistlekit stared into the sett. “Are there still badgers?” she whispered, looking less scared than hopeful. “No, the badgers left a long time ago.” Hollypaw ducked into the sett. “See, it’s perfectly safe.” “Why?” Thistlekit’s dark eyes gleamed. Hollypaw knew that game, but she wasn’t going to allow it. “Come on, let’s go see something else.” She pointed her tail at Onestar’s den. “That’s where the leader sleeps.” Thistlekit just stared at the rock, looking confused. “Our leader is Onestar, and that’s where he sleeps. Do you want to see inside? I can’t take you actually into it, but you can look.” “I want to be the leader,” Thistlekit mewed. Hollypaw twitched her whiskers. “Well, one day. But right now, you still have to learn how.” Thistlekit waved her tail and bounded toward Onestar’s den. Hollypaw followed, sighing again. She didn’t think she could teach a kit to not be annoying. But maybe, if she put up with her for now, Onestar would allow her to mentor Thistlekit when it was time. That would be one step closer to deputy. CHAPTER FORTY-TWOJAYPAWHalf a moon had come and gone since Hollypaw’s trip to RiverClan. She hadn’t told anyone about it, of course, but Jaypaw had smelled it on her. Just as he had smelled it on Gorsetail time after time. But Hollypaw had visited only once, and Jaypaw didn’t want to anger her by telling her he knew. He had noticed her fear-scent that day. Fear radiated from her again now as she shot into the camp. “Get here, now,” she panted. Jaypaw, Lionpaw, and Heatherpaw listened, and Lionpaw nudged Breezepaw, who had been telling a story about the rabbit he had caught that morning. “I don’t know where Thistlekit is,” Hollykit whispered. Even Breezepaw registered as alarmed, shock pouring from him, and Jaypaw was pleasantly surprised even through his own fear that the other apprentice was capable of caring about someone other than himself. “Gorsetail’s on patrol, and they don’t have another parent to be worried, and Mottlenose is in the medicine den,” Hollypaw counted. “So it’s just me who’s noticed, probably. I found—I found Thistlekit’s scent along with the others, I mean.” Jaypaw padded toward the camp entrance. “What are you waiting for? Why didn’t you follow it?” “They—they went down a tunnel,” she whispered, sounding terrified. Jaypaw froze. “No. You can’t be serious.” He could not see the sky, but he knew from the static air that a storm brewed overhead. The other four apprentices followed him. “Get a warrior,” Breezepaw snarled. “We can’t do this.” “What, are you scared?” Jaypaw snapped. “We have to get them immediately.” He wished Harepaw had been there, but he was out training with Antpaw and Emberpaw. I’m their only tunneler.Breezepaw growled. “I’m not scared and I think you’re lying.” His voice shook, and Jaypaw, probing his thoughts, caught a glimpse of the time he had fallen into the mud. Jaypaw picked up the kits’ scent trails easily and followed them into a tunnel. The ancient air washed over him. His siblings, Heatherpaw, and Breezepaw could not navigate the path as quickly as he could. “Hurry up.” He couldn’t carry all three kits alone, and he didn’t want to lose the other apprentices down here, either. They were trying, at least. “Okay, be a little more careful,” he said with alarm as one of them—he decided to believe it was Breezepaw—sent a shower of pebbles across the floor. A distressed hiss from somewhere else told him it had not been Breezepaw, but Jaypaw pressed on. Dread gathered deeper and deeper in his belly as the certainty solidified that the kits had gotten to Rock’s cavern. Lionpaw and Heatherpaw both squealed excitedly as they followed Jaypaw into the slippery river room. His terror grew, knotting Jaypaw’s heart as he noticed the river was getting higher. Was this the way Fallen Leaves went? Jaypaw couldn’t match any of the tunnels he traveled down with the ones he had seen. The kits’ scent trails overlapped back onto themselves in several places, and Jaypaw was worried he would never find them. A pelt rubbed against his, and he hissed. “Don’t touch me.” No one apologized, and he assumed it must have been Breezepaw. Jaypaw frantically charged down tunnel after tunnel, other apprentices trailing behind him. Lionpaw cried something about the cold water, and Jaypaw shrieked, but Lionpaw was only talking about the spray from the water arcing out of the current as it beat against higher stone. Jaypaw nearly slammed into the wall, his whiskers alerting him to the dead end just in time. He didn’t think StarClan could see him down here, and he didn’t want to scare the others any more than he already had. “I knew it. You led us all to our deaths,” Breezepaw roared over the sound of the crashing water. Lionpaw made a noise of protest, but Jaypaw assumed he couldn’t come up with an argument to make, considering Jaypaw had brought them down here and refused to listen to Breezepaw when he had suggested finding a warrior. Jaypaw did not think he had done the wrong thing. “The warrior code says you can’t neglect a kit in pain or danger,” Hollypaw wheezed, and Jaypaw was grateful to her for at least trying. Breezepaw huffed. “It doesn’t say five cats should drown themselves so that more lives can be lost.” Someone bumped into Jaypaw again. “Breezepaw!” he hissed. “Don’t touch me!” “What are you talking about?” his half-brother snarled from somewhere behind him. “I’m nowhere near you!” Jaypaw faltered. “S—sorry. Whoever that was, don’t—” But he saw him. “Fallen Leaves,” he whispered. The water was much louder than the cat’s name, but he nodded. His ghostly form was more visible than anything Jaypaw had ever seen outside of a dream or his vision of the very same cat. Fallen Leaves led him down a path he didn’t think he had tried. He made no noise, and the other apprentices didn’t seem to be able to see him or indeed detect him at all. At the end of the tunnel, Fallen Leaves looked pleadingly at Jaypaw, mouthed something, and dissolved into smoke. Jaypaw could hear the kits now. “We’re here,” he mewed, and they started making excited noises. They were behind a boulder in the path. “What happened?” Hollypaw called as Jaypaw squeezed over the boulder and began shoving the kits back into the tunnel. “Sedgekit said we should climb over the boulder so we did and we got stuck,” Swallowkit sobbed. “We got stuck, and Thistlekit won’t move, and I’m scared!” Jaypaw reached out with his mind and found that Thistlekit was alive but weak, able to breathe but not to stand. “We’ve got you now,” Hollypaw soothed, but she sounded as scared as the kits. As she should be.“We need to get out immediately,” Jaypaw ordered. He knew his fur was standing on end, but he made no effort to flatten it—no one could see his fear, and fear-scent came from all of them. Even Breezepaw could not hide his terror. Jaypaw managed to get back to the front of the party, scrambling past the other apprentices’ legs as they turned to follow him. “This way.” His heart pounded ferociously in his throat. Hollypaw, Lionpaw, and Heatherpaw had the kits. He followed his own scent back to Rock’s cavern. It was too late. The water had risen all the way to the mouth of this tunnel. “This isn’t good,” he squeaked. The water rushed up at his paws now. Breezepaw shouted something, but Jaypaw didn’t know what it was. He stared up into the cavern. And there was Rock, cupping the stick in one paw. How’d he get that back? Jaypaw thought indignantly. Rock looked directly at him. Fallen Leaves stood behind the ugly, hairless cat. Rock had carved eight new scratches into the stick. With a glare of hatred, he rotated the stick, showing that a long clawmark crossed through all eight. Jaypaw blinked, and Rock and Fallen Leaves were gone. A faint motion told him the stick had fallen into the water. Breezepaw was still shouting, and the kits screamed loudly enough to pierce Jaypaw’s eardrums. He thought he understood now. The water had reached his belly fur and threatened to send all eight of them swirling back through the tunnel. “Jump in, get deep, hold your breath,” Jaypaw bellowed, thrusting himself forward into the water. He clawed his way deeper. StarClan, please let this work! CHAPTER FORTY-THREELIONPAWLionpaw’s lungs screamed for air. The kit in his jaws—Thistlekit?—was probably having an even harder time with this than he was. His back slammed against rock, and sharp edges tore at his shoulders. His head scraped something jagged. And then he was spinning into the lake, crashing into cattails and reeds. Thistlekit or whichever one it was flew from his jaws; she looked pained but alive. He splashed frantically onto his feet. “Everyone okay,” he gasped, coughing up water. It leaked from the corners of his mouth, and tufts of fur had been pulled from his pelt. He was bleeding. But he was fine. Everyone else had survived, too. Jaypaw’s mouth gushed water as his nose bled freely; Hollypaw’s fur parted to reveal a long gash. Breezepaw and Heatherpaw looked equally banged up. As far as rock injury, the kits had fared far better, since the apprentices had shielded them from most of the rocks. They all seemed to have swallowed far too much water, and Heatherpaw had to press on Swallowkit’s flank to get her to throw more of it up. “Let’s get you back to camp,” Hollypaw said. Her voice was strained and raspy. Jaypaw shuddered. “Don’t ever explore down there again.” Blood spurted from his nostrils. Thistlekit didn’t seem to have been hurt when Lionpaw had dropped her; she shivered in the pouring rain, long white fur clumping, but she was able to totter through the marsh on her own. A fierce current swept over the cats’ paws, but they had jetted far enough from the muddy hole that it could not topple them over. Lionpaw’s head ached. He kept his ears pinned back; this seemed to make it hurt a little less. He nudged Thistlekit forward, aware of how telling it was that neither Jaypaw nor Breezepaw had complained about the others leading them. Swallowkit dangled from Heatherpaw’s jaws and Sedgekit from Hollypaw’s. Lionpaw almost wanted to laugh at how sorry they looked, ragged and bloody. Water did this to us. The Clans’ finest warriors here.Whitetail, Owlwhisker, and Ashfoot intercepted them before they reached camp. None of the warriors appeared to know exactly what to say, but even in the darkness of the storm Lionpaw could see the horror and confusion in their eyes. “I’m taking you to Barkface,” Ashfoot said. “I don’t want you to explain just yet. You need rest.” Lionpaw was relieved that they weren’t in trouble—yet—and saw no reason to argue. Barkface’s eyes widened as he saw them, but he asked no questions, instead busily setting to work treating them. Out of the corner of his eye Lionpaw could see Hollypaw blearily pawing at her herbs, trying to identify them. Barkface quietly ordered the apprentices to sleep and carried Gorsetail’s kits out one by one. His voice sternly telling Kestrelpaw to keep quiet buzzed in Lionpaw’s ears as he curled up on the moss. He must have dreamed—Jaypaw had insisted every cat dreamed every night—but he didn’t remember when he woke up. Or if he did, his dreams were of wandering in total darkness, with no sense of where the surface might be, while a distant roar grew louder and louder, making the stone around him vibrate. Lionpaw woke with his head and pelt still throbbing, but he was sure he had been asleep for a very long time. Hollypaw, Heatherpaw, and Jaypaw had gone; only Breezepaw was still in the den, and he had his back turned to Lionpaw. The black tom’s breathing was irregular, as if he had just run here from ShadowClan in the sun. “Thank you for coming,” Lionpaw croaked. Breezepaw tensed. “What are you talking about? I did what any cat—you made me go.” Lionpaw shifted, trying to get closer to his half-brother, but he didn’t move much. “I’m afraid of the tunnels. And there were just three kits. You didn’t have to.” “I’m not afraid,” Breezepaw snapped, audibly gasping in pain. “I didn’t say you were.” This time Lionpaw managed to roll to his paws, though he remained on the ground. “But none of us really had to do it, and if any of us did it was Hollypaw, Jaypaw, and me.” “But I did have to.” Lionpaw didn’t understand the pain he thought he heard in the words, but all Breezepaw added was, “You should know. Doesn’t anyone think you’re less of a warrior?” Lionpaw blinked, sending pain shooting through his forehead. “Well, I don’t listen to them.” Breezepaw sighed disparagingly. “Of course you don’t.” Lionpaw’s fur prickled; he knew Breezepaw meant it as an insult, but maybe he had had it coming, treading such sensitive ground. He wanted to ask who Breezepaw was talking about, but he knew that would be a worse offense in the other cat’s eyes than killing him. Breezepaw was obviously not asleep, but when he curled tighter in his nest, Lionpaw decided it was time to face the Clan. He crept out of the medicine den and wished he could take back the very action of moving a muscle. The light outside was not as bright as he had been expecting, and he relaxed as he saw how dim the sky was. Just the thought of the piercingly bright sun was painful. Leafpool’s amber eyes glowed as she saw him. “You’re all okay,” she mewed. “We were worried we had lost you.” Crowfeather sat beside her, staring warmly at his kits and apprentice. “I’m very proud,” his mother added. The other cats sitting around the camp all seemed in agreement. Gorsetail softly called his thanks from the nursery, and according to Hollypaw he had given her, Heatherpaw, and Jaypaw each a separate thanks as well. Onestar dipped his head toward the cluster of apprentices. Nightcloud was the only cat who seemed put off by any of it, and even she was relieved the kits were safe. Her biggest concern seemed to be that Breezepaw had not yet left Barkface’s den, and her posture became much less stiff after Lionpaw assured her he was only tired. She even went so far as to give him a curt but polite nod. “We’re heroes now,” Hollypaw informed him. “Every cat will respect us now.” Lionpaw still didn’t think they needed that—but maybe being a warrior would be more fun if the Clan was on his side. When Breezepaw finally left Barkface’s den, Gorsetail thanked him, too. Lionpaw went to sleep again that night somehow exhausted from his nap in Barkface’s den. He couldn’t wait until he was a warrior. CHAPTER FORTY-FOURJAYPAWJaypaw thought he might be back in the Tribe of Endless Hunting. He still had no idea who these cats were, but from the rocky ceiling and soft mossy floor, he thought he recognized the cave where he had met Sand and Half Moon. Scampering down a wide, shining passageway, he passed a few mud-streaked cats; he dipped his head, and they flicked their ears. This was the right cave, then. As he explored the expansive system—he thought Ice might have commented that it was infinite, but that might have been a detail filled in by his own mind—he spotted something that stopped him in his tracks. He wasn’t sure what it was about the place that had first caught his eye from the outside. It wasn’t particularly bright or lush; in fact, it was the opposite, a dark cavern full of stone teeth hanging from the ceiling and jutting from the floor. He had seen the stone teeth elsewhere, but these were more numerous. What intrigued him most was the water. This water did not come from a bubbling stream or pour from the rock. It was a still pool of sky. Confused, he looked up, confirming that the cave had a ceiling; there was no sky to reflect. “Hello, young one,” a tortoiseshell greeted him. They were as faded as Half Moon had been, maybe more so. “You are not from here.” “What is this place?” “This is the Chamber of the Pointed Stones,” she mewed, gesturing with her muzzle at the stone teeth surrounding them. “This is the place where we may gaze upon the living. I? I am but a queen who calls this home.” Jaypaw craned his neck to peer into the pool. His reflection stared back, and he suddenly realized this was the first time he had ever seen himself. He had seen Crowfeather and Leafpool in their dreams. He didn’t look anything like them. “I don’t know why I’m here. I’m from the Clans.” “Your predecessors traveled here many seasons ago,” she mewed. Ice’s friend had said something almost identical on his first visit. “You are perhaps a softpaw, but that is of no matter. If you walk our skies, there must be a reason, though I know not what it could be.” She had emerged wholly now from the stone teeth. Jaypaw thought again of the prophecy. “What do you know about a cat with fire in his pelt? A cat named Firestar.” She shook her head. “I do not know Firestar. His name sounds that of one of your Clan cats, but I had hunted among spirits for countless seasons before anyone had need of shelter with the Tribe, and I admit I was criminally incurious at the time. ‘They will leave soon,’ I thought; ‘the silver cat has already given up her life for us.’ I felt no need to pry.” Her tail waved over the water. She didn’t have a reflection. “Why can’t I see the real cats now?” Jaypaw didn’t think the tortie had any reason to lie, but the pool was mostly an undisturbed swath of stars. He recognized Silverpelt. “Is that StarClan up there?” She closed her eyes tranquilly. “You are alive; the Pointed Stones do not speak for everyone. And—yes and no.” Jaypaw glared at her. “What is that supposed to mean?” “The skies stretch far wider than the earth,” she explained, waving a paw. “StarClan’s territory overlaps ours, but they are not above or below.” Jaypaw wrinkled his nose. “StarClan has borders?” She was silent for a moment, and Jaypaw was about to ask again when she said, “We do not have boundaries in the traditional sense. But every cat has their place in the sky, and one can see on a long enough journey that these regions are connected.” Jaypaw stared at the water, remembering Darkstripe. He knew this was his chance to ask about that place, but he didn’t feel like talking about it right now. Annoyance sparked at him as he realized just how little this cat had really told him. The tortoiseshell watched him quizzically. “I feel I have seen you before,” she mused. “Well, I don’t know you.” Starting to feel slightly creeped out, Jaypaw felt the dream slipping from his mind. “Who are you?” If he knew her name, maybe he could find her again, and then he could press her for answers. She smiled, bluish green eyes folding very thin, and Jaypaw knew she had been very old when she had lived. “My name is Teller of the Pointed Stones.” CHAPTER FORTY-FIVECROWFEATHERLicking Leafpool’s ear, he rose to leave, knowing Nightcloud’s stare bored into his pelt. Sure enough, as he padded through the clearing, Nightcloud appeared. She met him just over halfway across the clearing. “I saw that.” “Leafpool is part of my life,” Crowfeather told her. “I know you don’t like her, or having her around, but she is here.” “I don’t believe you,” Nightcloud growled. “After all this time, you still haven’t let her go.” “Nightcloud, you are my mate.” He returned her tone. She could not guilt him out of this. “You know I care deeply for you; you are my only mate. This has nothing to do with our family; I seek the welfare of WindClan and of every cat in its care.” “Does our son mean nothing?” she spat. “I have three sons,” he meowed coldly. “Are you quite certain you are not including Hollypaw among that number? I speak of Breezepaw. Or had you forgotten him?” How dare she? Haven’t I done everything I can? “I have a responsibility to WindClan to look out for every cat.” “That scum is no more a WindClan cat than Blackstar.” Nightcloud’s fur was beginning to rise. “The final decision is Onestar’s,” Crowfeather pointed out. Her eyes burned like green suns. “I will never understand why some cats are so desperate to prove their disloyalty. I have been betrayed before. I do not forgive lightly.” You were desperate for kits and for someone who would listen to your yapping for more than four heartbeats. But her words had stung him more than he would like to admit. He had run off with Leafpool in a moment of weakness, yet he knew he would do it again in a heartbeat. The expression on his mate’s face as he turned away displayed her hatred quite plainly, but he could not focus on that now. He had brought WindClan three extra kits, and now they were heroes, along with his fourth kit and his apprentice; as far as Crowfeather was concerned, he had demonstrated his loyalty unquestionably. That was why he thought it would be a good time to ask Onestar if Leafpool could join the Clan. She lived in their camp, of course, but she could only leave under tight supervision. Most of her missions were just collecting herbs with Barkface. Crowfeather had been confined to camp for a moon, the only exception to this being patrols specifically assigned to him, and in fact he thought he had been sent on an inordinate number of dawn and evening patrols. Leafpool had been stuck here for, what, eight moons? Nine? Crowfeather couldn’t remember how long it had been since his kits had become apprentices. Pushing aside the thought, he padded toward Onestar’s den, picking up his pace as he saw that the leader stood outside. “Onestar,” he mewed. The tabby tom’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Crowfeather.” His voice was not entirely unfriendly as it had been moons ago, but it still gave Crowfeather pause. Maybe this was not such a great idea. “I need to talk to you about Leafpool,” Crowfeather said, knowing he needed to confess this as soon as possible. Onestar stiffened. “Not planning to skip off to the hills and make more kits, are you? Believe it or not, it is possible to make kits in WindClan, too.” Flattening his ears, Crowfeather continued as if he had not heard Onestar the first time. “I am well aware that my brief departure from the Clan was a gross breach of of the warrior code, and that I risked my position as a warrior. However, we—we now have a cat in our camp who has as many moons of experience as I.” “You are not even our most experienced warrior,” Onestar grunted. “WindClan does not need ThunderClan for its survival. Their last defeat seems proof enough.” “Please listen to me,” Crowfeather begged. “Leafpool has adjusted well to the hills. She will be a loyal warrior.” “Don’t speak to me of loyalty,” Onestar warned him, eyes glinting. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Crowfeather lashed his tail in frustration. “Doesn’t any cat mean anything to you? Firestar is dead; there is nothing left to prove. Honor his memory by—” “WindClan has never needed to bow to ThunderClan,” Onestar snarled. “I didn’t need Firestar, and I don’t need his daughter. Leave me alone.” He stormed away. Crowfeather stared after him, then cast his gaze around the camp. The only cat there who looked back at him was Nightcloud. She shook her head. [/spoiler] |
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:39:51 GMT -5
 CHAPTER FORTY-SIXLIONPAWPoppystream’s kits were finally becoming apprentices. Lionpaw was starting to wonder how many apprentices WindClan could handle at one time; soon enough every warrior would have one. Onestar also seemed a bit put off by the sheer number of young cats, but then again, Onestar was nearly always cross about one thing or another. Lionpaw was sure his leader still resented him, though he had no idea why. Onestar quickly assigned Brackenpaw to Mottlenose for her enigmatic wisdom, Redpaw to Nightcloud for her fierce devotion, and Dewpaw confusedly to himself, saying he would be sure to teach his apprentice the value of leadership and independence. Lionpaw gazed around the camp in wonder. Tawnyfur was the only eligible warrior with no apprentice to train, and she was getting too old anyway. How can we have so many cats in one place?Onestar, Mottlenose, and a sickeningly triumphant Nightcloud led their new apprentices out of camp. Lionpaw tried to greet Dewpaw as he passed close by, but the gray-and-white tom seemed preoccupied with telling his siblings about the giant rabbits he had dreamed about. Jaypaw looked even grumpier than usual, glaring intensely forward. “You okay?” Lionpaw asked his brother. “Do you ever feel like there’s somewhere else you were meant to be born instead?” Jaypaw whispered. “Like there’s something big you need to do that you can’t do because you were born into the wrong paws at the wrong time?” “Uh, no.” Lionpaw blinked. “What are you talking about?” Jaypaw shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.” Lionpaw was rarely frustrated with his brother this way; he had spent enough time with Breezepaw that Jaypaw’s jabs didn’t bother him. But Jaypaw had been increasingly evasive, and it was almost as if he didn’t have any time for Lionpaw at all. “Well, if you ever want to talk to me, go right ahead.” Twitching his tailtip, Lionpaw padded to where Owlwhisker lay eating a rabbit with Crowfeather, Whitetail, and Ashfoot. Twisting an ear back he heard Jaypaw start in his direction and then change his mind. Lionpaw had to fight the instinct to bare his teeth, knowing how that would look to the warriors. “Are we going to train today?” he asked. Owlwhisker looked amused. “Yes, and first on the list is stealth.” Lionpaw sat down. He wasn’t hungry, but Harepaw, Breezepaw, and Heatherpaw were all away training, and he was pretty sure Antpaw was too. Hollypaw trailed after Barkface, and Kestrelpaw would probably be more interested in Jaypaw than Lionpaw. True to his word, Owlwhisker took him stealth training, though Lionpaw knew he had been joking earlier. His mentor critiqued his rattling of the grass, but apparently Lionpaw had a surprisingly soft step for such a heavy cat. Breezepaw scoffed at Lionpaw when he suggested putting some scraps of moss bedding out for the new apprentices, but Lionpaw shrugged and did it anyway. After rescuing Gorsetail’s kits he had fallen into a rhythm of doing more than he needed to. He generally did it mindlessly; walking was no worse than sitting when he was so tired all the time. The only thing that really tripped him up was that he sometimes felt like Hollypaw now. Lionpaw fell asleep easily. He and Heatherpaw had once again been Lionstar and Heatherstar of NightClan and DarkClan last night, and both of them were exhausted. When he immediately opened his eyes, he was dismayed. At first. He realized slowly that he felt different and was in a place he had never seen. It was nighttime and very cloudy; he wasn’t entirely sure where the faint gray light came from. A light mist drifted around him, and he could smell cats. “Lionpaw,” a deep, gravelly voice greeted him. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time.” Lionpaw whipped his head around, trying to find the source of the voice, but in the silvery gloom he could hardly see past the bushes beside him. They were scratchy bushes, nearly stripped of leaves, but so were most of the bushes in WindClan’s forest. A cat who could only have been his addresser emerged, treading almost silently over the pine needles and dry brownish leaves. “Do you know where you are?” “The WindClan camp,” Lionpaw mewed hesitantly. Amusement flickered in the dark cat’s pale amber eyes. “That is where your body lies.” Lionpaw gasped. “Am I dead? I thought StarClan would have stars.” “You are not dead, but this is not StarClan,” the dark cat growled. “My tale is long and harrowing. I will save it for some other time. This place—we here refer to it as the Place of No Stars.” “Who are you?” Lionpaw whimpered. “Tigerstar.” “But you’re—you’re a bad cat; you tried to kill everyone!” Lionpaw shouted in alarm. “Get away from me!” “No, no, I’m not,” Tigerstar pleaded, and Lionpaw was shocked at the fear and desperation in the much older cat’s eyes. “I know they say bad things about me in WindClan, but if you only knew my side, well…I cannot fault WindClan, or any cat beyond my immediate peers, for the stories they tell. But I promise you, I am not the cat you think I am. “The short verson? I once ruled ShadowClan. Sordid plots among my subordinates led me down a path far darker than I intended, and I—was killed over a petty squabble, which caused much suffering to the Clans.” Tigerstar sighed. “I had invited a friend into the forest, and he showed up with many more cats than he had promised. He killed me, and his cats tried to take the forest—you know of the old forest—by force. I was remembered as the cat who brought him here.” Lionpaw was unsure whether or not to trust Tigerstar now. “Why are you talking to me?” “Lionpaw, I have come to you to set right the course of time.” Shadows rose in Tigerstar’s face. “You have learned that there were always three Clans settled around the lake.” Is this that Clan Jaypaw keeps talking about? Lionpaw thought. Aloud he whispered, “Do you know my brother?” “Jaypaw walks with other cats in his dreams,” Tigerstar said solemnly. “He is committed to his goals, but he would not stay to hear my side. The lost Clan’s future is in your paws.” His amber gaze hardened. “But that is a story for another time. Will you allow me to train you to be the best warrior you can be, so that they may return?” Lionpaw nodded, hesitantly at first, then resolutely. “Great.” Tigerstar bared his teeth. “We begin now.” CHAPTER FORTY-SEVENCROWFEATHERCrowfeather stretched forward to touch his nose to Feathertail’s, but she drew away. “You said you had moved on,” she reminded him. There was a trace of sadness in her voice, but she was right. He was a WindClan cat now, and Leafpool—no, Nightcloud—was his mate. “I have an important message from Stormfur.” “Stormfur’s alive?” Crowfeather nearly jumped out of his skin. “I mean, ThunderClan made it?” Darkness fell in Feathertail’s eyes, and her tail swung down. “ThunderClan is mostly alive. The journey to their new home was very difficult, as I’m sure you know, and things are not all well for the Tribe right now, either.” Crowfeather flattened his ears. “What happened to them?” “The Tribe’s borders are threatened by invaders. They can’t hold them off.” He lashed his tail. “They’ve got all of ThunderClan. They’ll be fine.” “Cats are dying,” she whispered. “Stoneteller is too proud to listen to the ThunderClan cats. He threatened to send them away.” “It’s going to be leafbare soon,” Crowfeather snarled, disgusted. Feathertail gave him a very pointed look. “Yes, it will. That’s why I came to you. The Clans need to send help.” “We can’t. ThunderClan won’t be happy with us.” Crowfeather was leery of the idea of another run-in with the angry cats he had sent running off, especially Squirrelflight and Stormfur. The last time I saw him we tried to kill each other.“Then ThunderClan and the Tribe will die,” she snapped, turning tail and starting to leave. “I’ll talk to Onestar,” Crowfeather muttered. “Good.” Feathertail paused, looking as if she wanted to lick his shoulder, and padded away. The stars around her twinkled out, and Crowfeather woke in the WindClan camp with the sun beginning to lift above the horizon. Weaselfur leered at him, and Crowfeather silently made fun of the ginger-and-white tom’s newly missing ear. Tornear has some competition, he thought. Ordinarily he would not have been so rude to his Clanmates, but Weaselfur had been nothing but spiteful for a long time, and Feathertail’s message had put him off greatly. Crowfeather went not to Onestar but to Barkface. The medicine cat was still asleep, Kestrelpaw and Jaypaw nearby. What’s he doing here? Crowfeather wondered, looking at his son. He nosed Barkface awake. “I had a dream from StarClan,” he whispered urgently. “Feathertail.” Barkface’s green eyes gleamed. “Feathertail sought you? Had she any news of ThunderClan?” “They’re—they’re alive right now, with the Tribe, but they’re in trouble.” Crowfeather’s pelt ruffled. “She told me they needed the Clans’ help, because cats are dying.” “I will notify Onestar, and I will implore him to send a party.” Barkface yawned, stretched, and trudged out of the den, mottled pelt twitching. Outside Crowfeather could hear Whitetail scolding Breezepaw. Apparently he had taken Heatherpaw, Antpaw, and Poppystream’s litter to check on the dogs and see if they’d left. Won’t he ever stop acting out? I can’t believe he’s my kit.When Barkface returned, Crowfeather was still sitting inside the medicine den. “Well?” the gray warrior asked, getting to his paws. “Onestar will send warriors to the mountains on two conditions,” Barkface meowed. “One, cats from at least one of the other Clans must accompany us.” “Tawnypelt,” Crowfeather said dismissively. “Two, you will go.” Barkface brushed past him, and Crowfeather knew Onestar’s mind had been made up. The patrol would leave; Onestar knew as well as any cat that Tawnypelt at the very least would not balk at StarClan’s calling. And when they went, Crowfeather would go with them to face his former friends. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHTJAYPAW“Let all cats six moons on join before the Tallrock for a Clan meeting,” howled Onestar. Jaypaw sighed. He knew what this was for, and he knew he would not be chosen. “Hey, Jay,” said Lionpaw, shuffling over to him. An odd, barely-familiar scent clung to his whiskers, and he smelled as if he hadn’t even gone to sleep at all. Where’s he been? It wasn’t the tunnels or the other Clans, that’s for sure.“Don’t call me that,” Jaypaw muttered. “Right.” Lionpaw bumped his head against Jaypaw’s. “Jaypaw.” The apprentices sat in a crescent shape together. Breezepaw shoved Jaypaw away from his brother, and Jaypaw made a show of moving several taillengths away, shoulder brushing against a cat he quickly identified as Poppystream. “A message has arrived from StarClan stating we must assist the Tribe in driving trespassers from their home,” Onestar announced. Jaypaw heaved another sigh. Heatherpaw whapped her tail against his flank as Onestar continued. “As our resident mountain expert, Crowfeather will be part of the patrol, as will Eaglestep. Tawnyfur will take over training of Emberpaw while Eaglestep is away. I will send Crowfeather’s kits with him as well, though Jaypaw will have to stay behind; the mountains are too treacherous.” Jaypaw lashed his tail resentfully, and he heard Breezepaw snarl, too. “Why do I have to go?” “You will accompany your father,” Onestar meowed sternly. “Owlwhisker will travel with you as well. I believe ShadowClan plans to send three cats. We were not invited into the RiverClan camp to ask Leopardstar.” You didn’t even go to RiverClan. You stayed at home while Ashfoot, Eaglestep, and Tornear waded around in the muck.“The patrol will depart tomorrow.” There was a loud thud as Onestar hopped off the Tallrock, and Jaypaw turned to his siblings. “I didn’t expect to go to the mountains,” Hollypaw mewed in wonder. “Where’d you think you were going?” Breezepaw snapped. “StarClan?” “Breezepaw,” Whitetail warned. “I only meant that I didn’t expect for Onestar to send apprentices on the mission,” Hollypaw huffed. “Besides, aren’t the mountains closer to StarClan anyway?” Jaypaw snorted. “Doesn’t make much difference; the stars are farther away than the clouds. Besides, they have their own afterlife over there.” “How do you know that?” Hollypaw asked. She was thinking of all the times Jaypaw had known something she didn’t. She was angry—mostly at herself, but she tried to convince herself it was at Jaypaw. “That doesn’t matter.” He should probably tell Hollypaw and Lionpaw about the prophecy, he knew, but Jaypaw was not in the mood to be charitable, especially after seeing Hollypaw’s jealousy. She can see and gets to go to the mountains; where does she get off whining?“It’s okay, Jaypaw,” Kestrelpaw mewed knowingly. “I didn’t get to go either. But this is gonna mean more stuff to do. You can help me get the herbs, and we can hang out in camp together when you do the den stuff.” “Yeah, I guess,” Jaypaw mumbled. It wasn’t Kestrelpaw’s fault, and of course the medicine apprentice couldn’t read his mind. “I think we should set up patrols there,” said Hollypaw. “Mark the territory.” “They aren’t a Clan,” Jaypaw snapped. “Plus there are more apprentices that didn’t get chosen, too,” Kestrelpaw pointed out. “You, me, Harepaw, Antpaw, Heatherpaw, Dewpaw, Brackenpaw, Redpaw.” Jaypaw didn’t see fit to remind Kestrelpaw of how little he liked the three new apprentices; none of them knew how to shut up. “All of my siblings are going, even Breezepaw.” Kestrelpaw nosed Jaypaw’s shoulder. “I guess I would be mad if Harepaw and Emberpaw got to go, but the mountains are cold, and I don’t think you’d like it there anyway.” “It will be a great opportunity to learn about other cats,” Hollypaw interjected. “The Tribe isn’t a Clan, but they’ve been there for at least as many moons as since our father had to leave the old forest territories.” Jaypaw knew she was saying this partially because he had been so evasive about his knowledge of the Tribe’s afterlife, but he still thought this was a low blow. “Don’t worry,” Kestrelpaw murmured. “I’m not worried.” Jaypaw bunched up his nose. “I just think Onestar should have sent all of us, or none of us.” Kestrelpaw actually seemed a little put off, but he swished his tail—Jaypaw could hear his fur being tugged by the wind—and chirped, “Well, maybe you can get all ahead on your apprentice duties, and then you’ll be a warrior by the time they get back!” This caught Hollypaw’s attention. “He can’t be made a warrior before us. If anything, this will speed up our training.” “Can’t have a ceremony if you aren’t in the camp,” Breezepaw snarled. “Onestar’s just putting us aside so he doesn’t have to deal with us. Jaypaw—if he sends Jaypaw into the mountains he’ll fall off a cliff and die faster than you can catch a rabbit.” Ordinarily Hollypaw and Lionpaw would both have contradicted Breezepaw, but Hollypaw was still clearly sulking, and Lionpaw hadn’t said a word since before the ceremony. Kestrelpaw exhaled a short, sharp breath that Jaypaw knew was an attempt at scolding; the younger apprentices had apparently all dispersed. Jaypaw wandered toward the freshkill pile as Barkface called Kestrelpaw to the medicine den. “I don’t like this,” he heard Nightcloud hissing. When Crowfeather answered that he had not wanted the apprentices to come, and that he agreed Breezepaw would have a better time staying back at camp, Nightcloud growled, “If you perish in the mountains, if you have not reconciled with Breezepaw, I will not mourn your death.” Maybe it was better Jaypaw didn’t go. Of course, that thought was immediately overruled by the memory of his dreams of the Tribe of Endless Hunting. For the most part those dreams had ended, but he was certain he was meant to go there. He needed to save the Tribe—and ThunderClan. Jaypaw patrolled with Onestar, Tornear, Ashfoot, Harepaw, and Dewpaw; the younger apprentice excitedly listed off every piece of prey he had caught in the past quarter moon, and Jaypaw was too busy focusing on the unfairness of it all to muster the energy to tell him to stop. All was quiet along the ShadowClan border, and as they headed back through the forest, Tornear even stopped to catch a chaffinch. Clan life looked like it would be peaceful enough this leafbare. But the mountains that had been calling Jaypaw’s name for so long would not have him. He would not find ThunderClan there. CHAPTER FORTY-NINEHOLLYPAW“You know I’d give my tail to go,” Heatherpaw soothed. “Because you’ve got all the brains of a water vole,” Breezepaw muttered. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get back,” Hollypaw promised. Lionpaw grunted his agreement. “Heatherpaw!” called Whitetail. She would mentor Heatherpaw while Crowfeather was away, and Onestar had as an afterthought added Owlwhisker to the traveling party just to ensure the apprentices would have enough mentors. They met up with the ShadowClan cats at the Moonpool. Tawnypelt she recognized; the warrior had bold patches of black, white, and ginger, and her eyes were as green as Barkface’s, if not more. Hollypaw was less familiar with Rowanclaw, but Tawnypelt introduced her mate first, then his apprentice, whom Hollypaw had already identified as Ivypaw. Ivypaw looked distrustful of the WindClan warriors. In fact, so did Tawnypelt and Rowanclaw, but at least they feigned comfort; Tawnypelt managed to keep most of the growl out of her voice as she greeted Crowfeather with what Hollypaw knew was a sarcastic “my old friend.” “You’ve brought more cats than Whitetail promised,” observed Rowanclaw. “Onestar thought this would be a good learning experience for the apprentices,” explained Eaglestep, “and he wanted there to be enough cats to train them, just in case.” “Well, resident mountain expert, lead the way,” Owlwhisker meowed, dipping his head to Crowfeather. Hollypaw’s father set off at once. She wondered, as she had before, why Crowfeather needed to be head of the patrol. Couldn’t every cat see the mountains sitting right there on the horizon? Was the Tribe’s camp really so hard to find? Leafpool and Crowfeather had told only the vaguest of tales about them. Lionpaw dragged his paws, and Owlwhisker kept having to call for him to keep up. Hollypaw supposed she was grateful again for Weaselfur’s running training—but he had sure begun slacking recently; the ginger-and-white tom had been touchier than ever and had all but stopped training her. Breezepaw stared straight down as he walked. Hollypaw steeled herself. This journey will be a valuable experience, and it can be bonding time, too. He’s your brother, too, sort of. She fell into step beside him. “I bet the Tribe will be really interesting,” she mewed. Breezepaw flashed her a look of incredulous disbelief, then looked back down. “Well, I know you didn’t really want to do this, but I think it’s going to be a really good adventure. We’re going to rescue a whole other set of cats.” “Like when we rescued the kits?” He curled his lip. “Yeah, that was so fun.” “We made it,” she reminded him, starting to get annoyed. “We’re not going down under the ground this time, either—we’re climbing up high!” “Yeah, up into the cold. You know Onestar’s doing this to get rid of us.” Hollypaw narrowed her eyes. “Onestar wouldn’t send his cats on a death mission.” “Not death,” Breezepaw spat. “ StarClan, Hollypaw, do you even have a brain? Kestrelpaw’s the one who said it—and believe me, it’s a sad day when Kestrelpaw is the shining star here—we could miss moons of apprentice time.” “But we’re missing those moons doing something exciting, saving a bunch of cats, and getting experience.” Hollypaw gently headbutted his side, and he grunted angrily. “Onestar doesn’t care about our experiences,” he growled. “Onestar doesn’t like me ’cause I’m Crowfeather’s son, and it’s the same for both of you. Quit being all high and mighty; you don’t get a free pass for being a medicine warrior or whatever it is you claim to be.” “I only said ‘medicine warrior’ once, and it was to shut Willowpaw up,” Hollypaw sniffed. “Aren’t you at least looking forward to Crowfeather’s attention?” This had apparently struck a nerve. Breezepaw sped up even further, swerved into her path, and blocked Hollypaw every time she tried to join him again. She wasn’t sure whether Breezepaw doubted her prediction or simply disliked the idea. Maybe both. So instead she tried to talk to Ivypaw. “What’s ShadowClan like?” “I dunno, what’s WindClan like? I’ve got training and camp duties,” Ivypaw replied. Her leaf-green eyes were still shadowed with misgivings, but there was very little edge in her voice. “I mean, do you like the territory?” Ivypaw gave her a strange look. “Hollypaw, I’ve only ever lived in ShadowClan. Aside from Gatherings and that one competition, I’ve never left home. This is my first time seeing anything else—anything so…open.” “And?” pressed Hollypaw. “Do you like it?” “Not much,” Ivypaw confessed. “If someone wanted to kill us now, we couldn’t escape.” “We could run or fight,” Hollypaw pointed out. Ivypaw shrugged. “I just don’t like this. They wouldn’t have to search—they’d just look over the hills and see us.” “Well, we would be able to look over the hills and see them, too, if that’s any consolation.” Ivypaw nodded halfheartedly. “Would you want to wake up one day and have to wade through mud and swim everywhere you went?” Hollypaw’s eyes widened. “I didn’t even think of that! I wish Willowpaw had come; she’s a bit of a pain sometimes, but she’s actually a really nice cat. She’d tell us all about RiverClan life, I know it.” Ivypaw stared at her. Hollypaw grinned, and Ivypaw looked sheepish. “I was just thinking—I don’t know how much she’d give away. RiverClan’s—they’re pretty weird, you know?” “I guess.” They chatted for a while, but with so little variance in day-to-day life, their topic turned to complaining about the other apprentices in their respective Clans. By the time Crowfeather called them to rest in a small copse of trees, both of them were so worn out from walking that their discussion had ended entirely. Hollypaw expected to fall asleep quickly, but her mind still raced with thoughts of mountains, of new cats, of bright lights, and of the sun rising over the horizon, and if she hadn’t woken up the next morning she would have thought she’d never fallen asleep at all. CHAPTER FIFTYHOLLYPAWHollypaw thought she saw a fresh scrape on Lionpaw’s shoulder, but she dismissed it. How often did she really search her brother’s pelt for scratches? Breezepaw still sulked behind the others, but Lionpaw seemed to have slightly more energy today, and the black tom accepted his attempts at conversation. Hollypaw spotted Twolegplace in the distance before the warriors announced it. She had never seen anything like it; the closest had been the horseplace, and she had stayed far away from there, cowed by the thundering shaking of the ground. “Twolegplaces can be dangerous,” Eaglestep warned the patrol as they drew closer. “Can they,” Breezepaw huffed. Lionpaw continued his story about ‘Lionstar the Ferocious’ anyway. Hollypaw couldn’t imagine Breezepaw saw any merit to the story—it sounded like a kit had composed it—but she didn’t miss Breezepaw’s audience anyway. Ivypaw seemed extremely curious about Twolegplace’s scents. Hollypaw tried to block them all out, but the ShadowClan apprentice repeatedly opened and closed her jaws, twisting and contorting her face. “It mostly smells bad, but it’s all so strange,” Ivypaw whispered. “Why, I don’t believe it,” Tawnypelt meowed from atop a fence. “Purdy!” The other cats scrambled up the fence to join her. A plump brown tabby, his fur streaked with silver and his pelt beginning to thin from age, lay languid in a pool of sunlight. He got shakily to his paws and said, “Wha’s that? Tawnypelt?” “It’s good to see you again,” Tawnypelt said, though Hollypaw noted that she lacked some of the conviction she had so quickly grown accustomed to hearing in the ShadowClan cat’s voice. Tawnypelt was the first to leap down from the fence, though, and Hollypaw knew she was being genuine. “Where’s any o’ the others? Feathersomethin’? Wha’ about that scrawny apprentice who was always arguin’?” Crowfeather introduced himself, saying he was a warrior now, and Breezepaw whispered, “You’re going to let him talk to you like that? I bet I could skin him with one paw.” “You don’t understand. He was part of our journey. That’s important.” Breezepaw just sniffed. Purdy’s amber eyes held a trace of dislike, but his jovial nature didn’t dissolve. “Squirrelflight didn’ say her friends would be comin’ to get her.” “You saw Squirrelflight,” Crowfeather interrupted, and Hollypaw could practically hear her father’s heart stop. “She got though here awhile back, right, lookin’ all beaten and bloody. I told her, ‘Squirrelflight,’ no, I told her, ‘Squirrelpaw,’ ’cause I didn’ know her name’d changed, I said, ‘Squirrelpaw, I know this Upwalker who’ll get you lookin’ fresher’n all this. Clean as an Upwalker is smooth, without all that fightin’ mess.’ She didn’ stop, though, she went right on through to the mountains.” Now Hollypaw understood Tawnypelt’s hesitation. Breezepaw had also apparently been paying enough attention, because he snarled, “Can we stop talking to this old mangepelt and get on with it?” “This isn’t an old mangepelt; this is Purdy, and you will treat him as you would treat any elder, or Onestar, for that matter,” Crowfeather snapped. “He’s an old friend,” said Tawnypelt. Hollypaw thought to herself that he certainly was old and thought Breezepaw might have grumbled something similar. “Besides, Purdy is our best bet for escaping Twolegplace quickly.” To Purdy Tawnypelt mewed, “Will you help us find our way through, er, again?” Purdy said it would be his pleasure, or at least Hollypaw thought that was what he meant. His chattiness did not dissipate at all, but at least Tawnypelt, Rowanclaw, and Eaglestep took the brunt of the onslaught for themselves—though Hollypaw thought she saw Rowanclaw bunch their shoulders several times. They passed a group of large black-and-white animals with stones for paws and long, swishy tails, and hearing the other cats’ wonder and the apprentices’ fear, Purdy explained that they were cows. He said that they shouldn’t scare them, since he could smell dogs, but as long as the cats stayed on the other side of the fence they would be safe. “I’m hungry,” Breezepaw whispered. “You know, we’ve seen dogs before. Twolegs always keep them locked up tight.” “Aren’t we all,” groaned Ivypaw. Hollypaw indeed felt hunger gnawing at her belly, and Lionpaw nodded. His earlier spurt of energy had faded, and his eyelids drooped. “Well, I saw sheep back there.” Breezepaw pointed with his tail. “What do you say we catch some mice? We can bring some back for the others after we eat.” “We should give the mice to the others before we eat any,” Hollypaw mewed, thinking longingly of the hunting grounds near the sheep pens back home. At Breezepaw’s glare she added, “We can go; I just want to do the right thing while we’re at it.” “Fine!” he snapped. They walked for only a few more paces before Breezepaw turned and bounded silently away, the other three following. Lionpaw’s stumbling apparently didn’t alert the warriors—Purdy’s rambling about cows drowned it out. “I can taste those mice,” Lionpaw breathed. “What if we get left behind?” Hollypaw realized. “We can’t get left behind. They know our scents.” Ivypaw nudged Hollypaw forward. “Food.” Breezepaw led them into a large, dark Twoleg nest. They made swift work of the mice there, which appeared never to have met a cat before, because they were slow and plump. There was a noise outside—a snuffling—and then an explosion of barking. All four apprentices stood bolt upright, but there was nowhere to run. Three black-and-white dogs, long-furred and long-muzzled, shoved their faces through the crack where the apprentices had entered. There were no other exits. The heavy flap was chained shut, but the dogs slowly wiggled it further and further open. Hollypaw and the others scrambled through the leaves and hay bales at the far side of the den, but it was useless. They would die here. “Up here!” Purdy? The apprentices stared up; he had crept in on a long slat at the top. “C’mon, climb the hay,” he urged. He grabbed them one by one and swung them out through the narrow slit he had used to enter. Hollypaw was terrified that she would fall all the way to the ground, but she landed on the sloping roof of the den instead. Once the five cats had safely reached the ground, Purdy led them to the warriors. “Crawl on back to your Upwalkers,” he said to the dogs. Owlwhisker scolded Lionpaw, and Rowanclaw told Ivypaw that she should have asked for a hunting break. Crowfeather radiated disappointment as he stared at Breezepaw, who hissed back. Eaglestep thanked Purdy. They crossed the rest of Twolegplace easily. They would be in the mountains soon. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONELIONPAWCrowfeather stopped walking, motioning Hollypaw, Lionpaw, and Breezepaw to stay with him while the others continued ahead.. “Hold on, kits. First I have to warn you about something. The Tribe won’t be the only cats there, and they—I can’t tell you to avoid them entirely, because I don’t know if that is possible, but you should do your best not to associate with them. “Even more so, we can’t tell them you’re Leafpool’s kits. All three of you are Nightcloud’s.” “Nightcloud?” echoed Lionpaw dubiously. He stared at Hollypaw, who mostly looked angry. “Why can’t we tell them who we are?” his sister mewed. Crowfeather’s eyes darkened. “There are many cats who disagreed with my decision to mate with Leafpool. At the time I did not think of kits; I did not think of the future at all. There may be other cats with the Tribe who would not take kindly to you if they knew who gave birth to you. You are still my kits, but in the mountains, you do not know Leafpool’s name. All right?” “But why does it matter to them?” Hollypaw asked. Crowfeather sighed. The other cats had begun padding back toward them. “You know how Leafpool doesn’t go on patrol? The mountain cats were her family once. They were a bad family, and she left them, and Onestar doesn’t want word getting out that we’re sheltering her. Do not anger them.” Lionpaw and Hollypaw didn’t voice agreement, but he thought this sounded important enough to keep secret. Kestrelpaw had been right; the mountains were cold. Temperatures had been dropping back in the forest, too, but harsh winds whistled past the traveling patrol. The moon rose, nearly fully waxed, at about the same time as Lionpaw noticed a chilling, mournful sound. “I don’t know what that is,” Owlwhisker informed them. Even Crowfeather and Tawnypelt couldn’t place it, though Eaglestep thought it sounded quite a bit like larger, wilder dogs. The sun had almost dropped out of sight when Crowfeather and Tawnypelt started getting excited. “We’re here,” Crowfeather said shortly, a sudden burst of energy carrying him forward so that he could look around the stone before any of the others. At first glance Lionpaw saw nothing that even vaguely resembled a camp. He was cold and tired, and the sound of the trickling stream reminded him uncomfortably of his excursions into the tunnels. Breezepaw shivered beside him; Lionpaw had to suppress his instinct to shelter his half-brother from the wind. Then, as the warriors hustled along the path, three huge, mud-streaked cats emerged from behind the waterfall. One of the cats, a sleek gray tom with broad shoulders, damp fur glistening silver, opened his jaws but did not speak. The slightly younger-looking black cat next to him padded directly up to Tawnypelt, who exclaimed, “Night!” “It’s good to see you again, Tawnypelt, Crowfeather,” the black cat mewed. “But who’s this?” Eaglestep and Owlwhisker introduced themselves. “We aren’t on good terms,” Rowanclaw announced before Tawnypelt could introduce her. “You’ve probably heard a lot about WindClan, and ShadowClan has no intention of—” “We’re here to help,” Tawnypelt cut in. “This is my mate, Rowanclaw. She tells the truth—we are not affiliated with Onestar—but we have agreed to put our differences aside for the good of the tribe.” Lionpaw wondered at the bitterness in her voice. “This was clever of Onestar,” Breezepaw whispered. Surprised, Lionpaw turned to see Breezepaw looking about as melancholy as he had ever seen him. At his questioning gaze, Breezepaw explained, “Either we save the Tribe and he’s a hero for doing it…or, probably, we get killed, and it’s not his fault ’cause he wasn’t here.” “Quit it,” Hollypaw said, green eyes flashing. “Onestar isn’t friendly, but he isn’t evil.” Breezepaw snorted, but at a glance from Crowfeather he didn’t argue any further. Tawnypelt and Crowfeather sounded quite distraught about something, and Lionpaw caught the phrase “Jag is dead?” from Rowanclaw, who apparently had been friends with them during the Clans’ stay in the mountains on their journey. The three Tribe cats uneasily allowed the Clan cats into their cave. Although the light was dim, Lionpaw could see that there were many cats inside. Most of them stared back at the new arrivals. Some of them looked unfriendly. “Are you an apprentice?” a smallish cat piped up as Lionpaw passed. “Uh, yeah.” Lionpaw looked to his father, but Crowfeather was already slinking off to a dark corner. “I’m Lionpaw.” “Your name is just like the others,” the cat informed him. “My name is Pebble that Rolls Down Mountain.” “That’s a long name.” Pebble that Rolls Down Mountain giggled. “Well, you don’t call me the whole thing, silly. You just say Pebble. That annoying furball next to me—” she tipped her head toward a cat about her size, who glowered at Lionpaw, “is Screech. But you’ve gotta meet Cinderpaw and Honeypaw.” “’Paws out here?” Lionpaw gasped. He felt sure he was forgetting something; the existence of another Clan sounded vaguely familiar, but he had spent so much of his dream time in Tigerstar’s forest learning to fight that he had forgotten many things. Screech sighed. “What Clan are you?” “WindClan,” Lionpaw answered automatically. Fear twinged at his pelt a moment later, but then again, they all knew Crowfeather was a WindClan cat, so he told himself to relax. “Oh.” Pebble and Screech exchanged a glance, but then Pebble brightened. “Well, that’s okay. Come on, meet the others!” Lionpaw glanced over his shoulder to tell Breezepaw to come with him, but the black apprentice had disappeared without a trace. CHAPTER FIFTY-TWOHOLLYPAWOnce Cinderpaw had finished rolling in the mud, Splash and Honeypaw pulled her back up onto the ledge. “You wanna try?” Honeypaw mewed, twitching her whiskers. “Black fur isn’t too bad, but you said you wanted the whole Tribe experience.” Hollypaw considered briefly, then scooped up some mud and smeared it on her pelt. It was uncomfortable, but she slicked down her fur some more. Gross. How had Lionpaw rolled in this without being sick? Hollypaw imagined Ivypaw was accustomed enough to mud, since Weaselfur had said ShadowClan had unpleasant land. “You’ll have fun licking that off,” Breezepaw muttered, darkly amused. She had hoped to find out more about ThunderClan’s removal from the forest, but the apprentices didn’t know all that much, and the few warriors in the cave couldn’t explain much either. “Your turn,” Cinderpaw mewed to Breezepaw, touching her nose to his shoulder. “I don’t get dirty,” Breezepaw mumbled, apparently unsure whether to look away or to glare fiercely at the gray apprentice. “Are you sure?” Cinderpaw poked him. Breezepaw snarled and sprang away. “Yes, I’m sure!” “Stop being difficult,” Hollypaw snapped. “We’re living with the Tribe right now; we might as well act like Tribe cats.” “I don’t want to,” Breezepaw growled, but Screech shoved him into the mud. He flailed his paws and caught onto the ledge, vaulting back up onto land. Hollypaw was startled by the fear-scent coming from the usually arrogant tom; she knew the others could smell it too. Hatred burned in his amber eyes. “Well, we’re off to a great start,” Screech grunted. Breezepaw bristled. “If you do that again, I’m going to rip you open from the tip of your nose to the end of your tail, and I’m going to pull out your spine from the inside.” “Colorful,” remarked Splash. “Just don’t push him around,” said Lionpaw defensively. “What are you even doing?” Pebble asked. “Here at the Tribe, I mean.” “We heard there was trouble with invaders.” Hollypaw fought back the impulse to lick down her now muddy chest fur. “StarClan told my father that—” “He’s my father, too.” Breezepaw jutted out his chin. “You don’t get him all to yourself all the time.” Cinderpaw purred. “Yeah, bad Hollypaw. Bad.” Her gaze sparkled playfully, and Hollypaw rolled her eyes. “We’ve gotta fight off the bad guys,” Lionpaw yawned. “The invaders,” Cinderpaw whispered, blue eyes suddenly serious. “Why did they bring a bunch of apprentices?” “To get rid of us,” Breezepaw moaned. “To provide us with experience and to allow us to see how cats outside of our Clans live,” Hollypaw mewed sharply. “This’ll be better than any speed training.” “So what are you supposed to be doing, exactly?” Screech muttered. “We know how to fight, and you guys aren’t big enough to do it for us.” “The Clans saved your tails before,” Cinderpaw teased, then returned to solemnity. “Stoneteller ordered the ThunderClan cats to leave, you know.” Pebble and an older cat named Gray Sky Before Dawn had mentioned this already; this explained why there had been so few ThunderClan warriors in the cave. Gray had pointed out the ThunderClan elder Longtail and the warriors Sorreltail and Ferncloud, the latter of which nursed three kits along her belly. Honeypaw nodded. “He was mad, because all the ThunderClan tactics our warriors tried didn’t help. We lost a big battle. Four Tribe cats and two of our warriors died.” Her blue eyes clouded. “Well, one warrior and Poppypaw.” “Six cats,” Ivypaw said, alarmed. “Why didn’t StarClan warn us?” Pebble shrugged, but similar fear was clear in her eyes. “It’s not like the Tribe of Endless Hunting warned us.” “We’re gonna give it one more go, I guess,” Lionpaw murmured, staring off into the distance. Hollypaw wasn’t the only one who gave him a strange look, but no one commented. “I guess we are just here to fight,” she said apologetically. “I don’t think any of us knew how bad it was. But we brought five warriors—that’s…that’s something.” Hollypaw and Breezepaw showed the to-bes how to perform a few different WindClan battle moves. Honeypaw and Cinderpaw showed them some ThunderClan techniques—which included something that reminded Hollypaw very much of the paw-slam maneuver Crowfeather had shown her and Heatherpaw. The to-bes knew very little about fighting; they clumsily mirrored the ThunderClan apprentices’ moves. Pebble could jump terrifyingly high and land with a force that jarred Hollypaw but left the gray cat unfazed, but this did not seem practical in the heat of battle. Sheer and Crag finally arrived, and after a brief tour of the immediate area, they ushered the visiting apprentices back to the cave falls, where Sheer said, “Wash yourselves in the water, not with your tongues. A mouth full of mud eats little prey.” I could get used to this, Hollypaw thought as she and Ivypaw took turns eating bites of a bird. No wonder they want to keep their home so badly. She vowed that, if worst came to worst, she would fight to the death on behalf of the Tribe. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREELIONPAWEaglestep, Tawnypelt, Rowanclaw, and Swoop of Chestnut Hawk returned late that evening. They had gone to speak with the ThunderClan cats about plans to battle the intruders once and for all, and apparently things had gone better than expected. Hollypaw and Ivypaw had gone off to one of the side caverns with the to-bes and ThunderClan apprentices, and apparently Cinderpaw had dragged Breezepaw along with them. Lionpaw paused to listen. “We put down borders,” Swoop announced. This certainly got Stoneteller’s attention. “You didn’t,” he growled. “We did,” affirmed Sheer. “We have markings encircling all of the area we regularly use.” “Borders are useless if all we do is starve inside of them.” Stoneteller padded toward his cats, dark fur standing up on his back. “Then we will not starve,” said Gray. Lionpaw heard squeals and scampered to join the other apprentices and to-bes. He could barely see, but the dim, warm light enabled him to make out their general shapes and flashes of movement. “Well, it’s finally the last lazy lump!” cried Honeypaw. “Get him!” Only Splash and Screech attacked, and Lionpaw shook them off. “What’s going on?” “Not much,” Ivypaw grunted. “What took you so long?” Lionpaw shrugged, forgetting for a moment that the others probably wouldn’t be able to see him. “I think Stoneteller’s mad.” As if to confirm his words, the tone of Stoneteller’s voice reverberated harshly throughout the cave, although he could not pick out what the old cat actually said. Last night Lionpaw had expected the cave’s stone floor to prevent him from sleeping, but either it was surprisingly comfortable or he was too tired to care. This time he was prepared; he curled up between Hollypaw and Breezepaw and fell asleep before all the warriors were finished talking. “Just wonderful,” Tigerstar said snidely. “This is exactly what you should be doing, isn’t it? How lovely, that you have enough time on your paws that you can leave your training behind.” “Hollypaw says this’ll be better than training,” Lionpaw protested. “I’m getting firstpaw experience.” “Experience doing what?” Tigerstar spat. Lionpaw flinched. Rarely outside of battle practice did Tigerstar lose his temper, but when it happened, it was terrifying. Apparently seasons of wandering the dark, lonely woods had set him on edge. “I don’t know. Making borders, I guess. Marking them. Patrolling.” He did his best to keep his fur flat, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was. “Patrolling.” The disbelief was evident on Tigerstar’s face. “You gave up training so you could go on a few extra patrols.” “We have to protect the Tribe. There’s a Clan out here. You said something about a Clan, right? There’s one here,” Lionpaw mewed, excitement bubbling through him. Something like delight flashed across his dream mentor’s face; he must have been blown away by this news. “I bet it’s the same one. A whole Clan! All the way out here! Did you know that? They’re here! They’re called ThunderClan. I don’t think they like WindClan. Longtail didn’t talk to me.” Tigerstar’s eyes flashed. “ThunderClan are not your allies, Lionpaw. Beware of forgetting who is. I knew Longtail once; he was too soft for forest life, choosing to follow the trails of ThunderClan’s tyrannical Bluestar rather than make his own path.” “ThunderClan did this to you?” “Lionpaw, for moons on end I was an outcast. ThunderClan took everything from me. They claimed I had tried to kill them; they raided my camp and fled, taking our prey, taking my honor, taking StarClan away. Avoid falling into complacency at all costs. They are a Clan of cowards, savages, and thieves. Do not listen to them.” “Oh. Well, Cinderpaw and Honeypaw seemed nice enough.” Lionpaw curled his tail defensively around himself. “They are apprentices,” Tigerstar meowed. “They are young and unwise. They have not yet learned their leader’s ways. You know what you must do, correct?” “Uh, not really.” “You said you came to the Tribe to fight. So you will fight. Harder than ever before. This will be your chance to show what you have learned—and what must still be done.” His pale amber eyes glittered. “If you impress me, I will see if I can get word to Onestar. See if he’ll make you a warrior immediately.” Lionpaw gaped. “They killed six cats,” he breathed. “I can’t do that.” “Then tonight you must learn.” Tigerstar straightened up. “And—do not associate with the ThunderClan cats.” There was a strange intensity in his gaze. “In fact, it would be best for your Clan if you were to dispose of Thornstar.” Lionpaw’s fur bushed out again. I can’t kill a cat!“I know how hard it is, Lionpaw, but sometimes a warrior must perform deeds more difficult than those they would like.” Sadness brimmed in Tigerstar’s eyes. “When my mate, Goldenflower—she was a beautiful cat, and the bearer of my first litter—when she turned against me, I thought I would never trust another cat again. “But I need you, Lionpaw. I have your best interests at heart. Thornstar is a danger to WindClan—far more so now that he will have heard of who you are.” “Right.” Lionpaw swallowed. “What if I don’t manage it?” “It won’t be the end of the world.” Tigerstar nosed at his own chest fur. Lionpaw stared, not for the first time, at the deep notch in the dark tabby’s ear. “I will not require you to kill any cat. But I think that if you get the chance, this will be your most important battle yet. To fulfill your destiny, to save a Tribe and a Clan, to free these innocent apprentices from Thornstar, all before receiving a warrior name—you will be hailed most of all as a hero.” Lionpaw’s chest swelled. He remembered his first taste of heroism, how the Clan had become so much more accepting. “I’ll do my best.” Tigerstar showed him moves that were supposed to be extra-effective against ThunderClan tactics, though he said he had never faced the mountain rogues. The old leader’s onslaught was stronger than ever. And yet somehow Lionpaw remained unscathed. Tigerstar’s claws drew over his skin as if it were made of mountain stone, hard, unyielding. He was already set on his path to being WindClan’s greatest hero. He hoped nonetheless that StarClan would prevent him from facing Thornstar in battle. His destiny would come soon enough; there was no point in trying to hurry it. One day he could kill a cat, but it would not be now. Sorry, Tigerstar. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOURLIONPAWStoneteller had not been at all happy since the Clan cats had spoken to Thornstar. Eaglestep had told Lionpaw very little of what had happened there, and Crowfeather had said it was not for Lionpaw to hear. But the next day, several cats had come home injured. The trespassers had attacked them, taking advantage of their distraction taking down an eagle. Stoneteller had reluctantly listened then, going so far as to ask the Tribe to vote. With Flight and Talon injured, they had voted to fight alongside ThunderClan rather than attempt to move away, and Stoneteller had reluctantly accepted this. “Might as well call ’em MountainClan,” Breezepaw had muttered proudly. Now Lionpaw stood beside Breezepaw near the invaders’ camp. It was not very impressive; surveying it from around the rock they crouched behind, Lionpaw compared it to the WindClan camp and found it lacking in defenses. The moon was bright in the sky. Hollypaw had been the one to lead them here, but it was Rowanclaw and Cloud with Storm in Belly who crept toward the nearest nest. The two cats stopped just short of a gash in the rock. After a few heartbeats passed, a smallish calico poked her face out. The cat’s eyes widened, the face withdrew, and yowling broke out inside the den, echoing out into the surrounding peaks. Lionpaw pressed himself against the ground. He was to come in as backup, a fresh wave to overwhelm already weakened enemies, along with the other young cats and a couple of prey-hunters. They were not the only backup wave. The other ThunderClan apprentices, Dovepaw and Firepaw, crouched behind another rock nearby. Lionpaw shivered as a cloud covered the moon. Don’t be superstitious. You have StarClan and Tigerstar on your side. The cloud was slowly dissipating anyway. Sometimes a cloud is just a cloud.“What do you want?” demanded a silver tabby, crawling out from the nest. A brown-and-white she-cat and a smaller brown tom followed him. “I am sure you have noticed the borders around the Tribe’s territory,” said Stoneteller, padding forward with Tawnypelt, Crag, and Crowfeather close behind. “They encircle our home. You will respect them and stay out.” “Listen to him, Stripes. He’s scared.” The she-cat spoke as if she had a quiet voice, but it carried far in the thin air. “No cat gave you the right to block us from any part of the mountains,” Stripes asserted. “We’re only trying to provide—” Tawnypelt began. Stripes bristled. “Leave us alone!” He backed into the cave with his back arched. Stoneteller stared. “You did not prepare for this, Thornstar.” So that’s Thornstar. He looked old, almost as old as Onestar, and his muzzle was streaked with silver, but his scarred frame looked strong. “We can’t follow them in,” Thornstar meowed quizzically. “We will be blind in the darkness.” “But they can’t be,” whispered Ivypaw. Lionpaw stared. “Huh?” “There must be some way they get light and air into their hole.” Ivypaw jabbed a paw at the boulder where the apprentices huddled. “If we just find that, maybe we can flush them out.” “Like rabbits!” Lionpaw burst out, ignoring the forceful headbutt Breezepaw gave his ribs. “I mean, sometimes a weasel’ll scare rabbits up to the surface,” he amended, hoping he had not given away valuable secrets to the ShadowClan apprentice. “That’s what I said,” Ivypaw hissed impatiently. “Who’s coming with me?” “Me.” Lionpaw puffed out his chest. This would be his chance to show off to Tigerstar while avoiding contact with Thornstar. “I know rocks,” said Pebble hastily. “You coming, Hollypaw?” “We really should involve a cat who has some experience,” Hollypaw fretted. “Come on.” Pebble slunk away, ignoring Hollypaw’s quiet frantic mews of Where are you going? Get back here!Lionpaw and Ivypaw scrambled after the gray to-be, and Lionpaw felt his heart warm when Breezepaw and, after a moment’s hesitation, Cinderpaw followed suit. Pebble quickly sniffed out a hole. “You can smell their scent,” she whispered, scrunching up her muzzle. “It’s disgusting.” The invaders’ scent really didn’t smell any worse than the Tribe, but Lionpaw nodded in agreement. “I think we’ll fit,” he whispered. “You really think we can fight them,” Breezepaw meowed. Pebble slapped her tail over his muzzle. “Shh. No, we go in there. When I click, scream like there’s a whole pack of wolves biting our feet. They hear us screaming, they scream, they run, we chase them, we fight. Simple.” Lionpaw grinned to lift Breezepaw’s spirits—and his own. “Worst case scenario we run back up the hole. You’re a fast runner.” Breezepaw sniffed, but he voiced no more objections as Pebble shoved her head into the rock. The others followed, and as Breezepaw, last in line, filed into the darkness, Pebble clicked her tongue. Lionpaw drew a breath, and they all burst forward, yowling at the tops of their lungs. A shower of scree rained down on them. As they charged, the terrified, disoriented rogues fled, writhing in the main entrance in their desperation to escape. Lionpaw snarled ferociously at a skinny tabby, who blanched and propelled himself atop the other cats, charging out of the den. The apprentices and Pebble chased the intruders out into the clearing, where battle had broken. The warriors and Tribe cats all looked shocked, but the eruption of yowling had been enough of a warning that they had been prepared to fight. “Now!” Lionpaw surged forward, then realized how strange this was. Was that Tigerstar’s voice? “Left, Lionpaw, brown cat!” Lionpaw reared up and grabbed the skinny brown tom from earlier around the neck, then crushed him to the ground. He beat at the cat with his claws, hot blood scent filling his nose. The rogue’s fur felt good beneath his paws, and Lionpaw dug deeper. “Gray tom.” Lionpaw gave the brown cat one final thrash, a pitiful squeal ringing in his ears as he whirled to face the huge gray tom barreling toward him. But Lionpaw ducked beneath him, and the tom overshot, skidding forward to where Breezepaw and Screech cut at his flanks. Lionpaw howled with triumph and sprang onto another cat’s back, dragging them off of Gray and flinging them aside, pummeling them with his forepaws. He sank his teeth into the pale cat’s flesh until their shriek trailed off, then spat their own blood at them. He tried to taunt them, but he could not come up with a coherent sentence. “Lionpaw,” he heard. Tigerstar’s voice sounded funny. Small. “There’s Thornstar. Kill him!” Tigerstar snarled in his usual voice. Lionpaw flung himself at the graying tabby, who squawked in surprise and shook him off. “That’s Thornstar!” Tigerstar cried—but it wasn’t Tigerstar. Hollypaw? Lionpaw froze mid-pounce, crashing into the ThunderClan leader, who bared his teeth in preparation to strike back. “We can’t stop now,” Lionpaw meowed, exhilaration welling in his throat. “Not until every last rogue has been defeated!” He was hungry; the heat on his teeth was not enough. The world spun around him. He was dizzy. He wanted to keep moving, to feel more fur and skin in his grasp, to kill. “It’s over, Lionpaw,” Crowfeather mewed, sounding scared. “We’ve won.” CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVEHOLLYPAW“We’ve won,” Crowfeather repeated. Hollypaw stared at Lionpaw. He sneezed, spitting out blood. “Are you okay?” Swoop cried. Hollypaw nodded her head, but Swoop had been asking Lionpaw anyway. “Yeah,” he rasped, amber eyes widening in horror. “I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine at all,” Hollypaw whimpered. “But I am.” His eyes gleamed strangely. “I’m only…tired.” Brightheart, the one-eyed warrior, was helping Cinderpaw limp from the rock den. “A leg was crushed,” she whispered, blue eye shimmering with worry. “Oh, Cinderpaw,” Thornstar mewed, the words catching in his throat. “It’ll—it’ll be okay.” “Wash off in the stream,” Crag ordered, taking charge. “We’ve lost Moss and one of your patrol cats. We will mourn them tonight. You can return home when they have been buried. ThunderClan is welcome in our cave once again.” “You do not have the authority to do this,” Stoneteller objected. His dark gaze softened. “But ThunderClan has helped us,” he admitted. “It would be unfair for us to refuse shelter on the grounds of a lost battle.” “What happened to tradition?” Cloud wondered, looking to the peak of a taller mountain. “What will the Tribe of Endless Hunting think?” “Perhaps it is time we formed our own destinies,” Stoneteller murmured, closing his eyes in pain. “Let us return to the stream; water will do us all good.” To Stripes he meowed more harshly, “This is what will continue to happen if you refuse to honor our borders.” The silver tabby glared back, then slowly bowed, muzzle nearly touching the ground. “So be it.” Hollypaw followed the others back to the Tribe’s cave. Lionpaw refused any help; his eyes still glowed with a thrill that scared her a little. As Lionpaw lowered himself into the water, Hollypaw realized he was right. Blood streamed from her brother, turning the creek a dark, sickening red as tendrils of blood coiled from his pelt, but it was not his blood. Not a single gash marred his pelt that had not been there when they had first arrived. “Lionpaw,” Pebble breathed. “That was amazing.” “We all fought,” Breezepaw growled. “You fought bravely,” Cinderpaw agreed. There was a strange peace in her blue eyes as she paddled in place in the stream. Her crushed leg dragged uselessly in the current, but she could still swim. “I miss Moss, and I know you will miss Eaglestep,” she mewed sorrowfully, “but thank you for your plan, Ivypaw, and all of you.” “I’m sorry for your loss, and for WindClan’s.” Ivypaw’s voice was heavier than Hollypaw had ever heard it. “I’m just glad that we were able to help.” Stoneteller and Thornstar made their amends; Lionpaw kept speaking over Hollypaw when she suggested talking to the ThunderClan cats. She wasn’t sure how he could possibly be so incurious about finding another Clan all the way out here or so oblivious to the fact that they had disappeared in the first place, but she could not get around him without being rude to the others. In addition to mourning the fallen cats, Thornstar rewarded his apprentices by making them warriors, noting Cinderheart’s boundless spirit and Honeyfern’s all-encompassing care. Stoneteller announced that Screech, Splash, and Pebble were nowhere near old enough to end training but that they should be equally honored, saying they would have their ceremony the moment they reached a reasonable age. The next day, they hunted for the reunited Tribe and Clan. Breezepaw brought back a fat rabbit; Hollypaw sensed anxiety claw at him. He’s waiting for Crowfeather. But Crowfeather passed over it to compliment Lionpaw’s pigeon. Breezepaw snarled. Serves him right, thought Hollypaw, but she also pitied him a little. They began the journey home that sunhigh and returned the day after to the Clans. Hollypaw said goodbye to Ivypaw as the three ShadowClan cats split from the group, and soon they had reached camp. It was good to have real grass under her paws again. Despite the leafbare chill that had settled in, Hollypaw reveled in the familiar scents and sounds, feeling the setting sun warm on her pelt. Jaypaw, Harepaw, Emberpaw, and Kestrelpaw were eating a rabbit together. “They’re back!” Harepaw meowed, brightening. “Hey, Hollypaw, I’m a warrior now. How’s it—where’s Eaglestep?” “A lot has happened,” Hollypaw mewed softly. She briefly filled them in, taking care to mention Lionpaw’s incredible battle. A look of shocked triumph came across Jaypaw’s face. That night, before the apprentices had gone to sleep, Jaypaw drew Hollypaw and Lionpaw aside. “Listen.” His blue eyes blazed. “There’s something I have to tell you…” CHAPTER FIFTY-SIXHOLLYPAW“Look,” Hollypaw gasped. Heatherpaw looked, but a moment too late. “Did you see?” “What was it?” Hollypaw paused. “This is going to sound mousebrained.” “Say it!” Heatherpaw begged. “I won’t call you a mousebrain.” “All right.” Hollypaw gathered herself. “I think it was a lion.” There had been something about the tapering face, the bushy tail tip, the wideset ears… Heatherpaw blinked. “Are you sure it wasn’t just Lion paw?” She twitched her whiskers, eyes shimmering. “He’s incredible.” “It wasn’t Lionpaw,” Hollypaw insisted. “I know it can’t have been a lion, but it was—whoever it was, they were big, and I could have sworn I saw a mane.” She thought of Jaypaw’s prophecy. “Maybe it was a sign from StarClan,” she whispered. “Whatever you say.” Heatherpaw bumped her head against Hollypaw’s shoulder. Crowfeather and Weaselfur joined them soon, and the hunting training began. As the patrol dragged their catch back to camp, Hollypaw noticed something amiss. “That’s them,” she mewed. “That’s the lion.” Heatherpaw had been right; this was just another cat, not a lion. But the majesty in the strange cat’s stance still strongly reminded her of one. “My name is Sol,” he announced as cats gathered around him. “You are not thrilled at my presence, are you.” “We don’t take kindly to invasions,” Onestar said warily. “What are you doing in our camp?” “I am undertaking quite an arduous journey,” Sol meowed smoothly. Hollypaw was taken aback by the richness of his voice. “I met your warriors on the border.” “He wasn’t trespassing,” Owlwhisker said, sounding slightly puzzled. “He was just—waiting.” “Waiting for a patrol,” Sol said, dipping his head. “How does he know about patrols?” Emberfoot muttered. “Why were you waiting for a patrol?” Onestar asked, sounding very uncertain. “So that they would bring me here.” Sol smiled as if he thought this would explain everything. “Are you waiting for something?” Onestar growled. “For food? For shelter? What do you want?” “Oh, no, I am fine. I catch my own prey.” Can’t he take a hint?“He—he met a badger,” Jaypaw whispered, furrowing his brow. “A badger who spoke to him in the language of foxes. The one Crowfeather talked about, probably. He’s—he speaks fox.” Fear emanated from his gray tabby fur. “He’s thinking about being in choking darkness, and he isn’t underground. He does not like jumping.” Hollypaw stared at Sol. “He’s gigantic.” “I have a message for your medicine cats,” Sol said lightly. “So you do have a reason,” Onestar growled. “What is this message?” “The sun will go out.” Barkface looked uneasy. “StarClan has not—” “StarClan is but a lot of dead spirits,” Sol said gravely. “Your faith is quite noble, but how much can StarClan possibly know?” His voice was almost hypnotic. “They are the remnants of ordinary cats.” “Uh, we’ll talk to StarClan,” said Kestrelpaw. “We can find out more.” Sol shook his head. Hollypaw watched the deep ginger peak outlined on his forehead move back and forth. It’s like if a tremor in the earth moved the mountains. “You lack the wisdom you profess to possess.” Kestrelpaw looked offended, and Barkface glared fiercely at the tortoiseshell tom. “StarClan has guided us for a very long time,” Onestar snarled. “You cannot enter our camp and spread fear and gossip. We trust them, not you. Get out.” Sol nodded. “That is okay. I will leave you in peace. But remember me when the sun loses its light. It will die, and perhaps you will die with it.” He strode fluidly from the camp, and Hollypaw could almost feel his massive paws shaking the earth with every step. “Do you think the sun will die?” Heatherpaw mewed nervously. “What are the chances of that?” Harespring said, but his voice shook. Onestar sent Owlwhisker, Ashfoot, and Weaselfur to ensure that Sol left WindClan territory, then climbed onto the Tallrock. “Do not heed his words,” the WindClan leader ordered. “He wants only to scare us. We will not allow him to.” He leapt back down. Hollypaw dreamed about lions. They ruled the moor gracefully, their pride flourishing while the ambush of tigers and the prowl of leopards cowered in fear. She woke fearful at the sight of the lions’ leader. He was an enormous golden lion, his eyes a deep amber, and his pelt was soaked with spatters of blood, all of it fresh, none of it his. How can I be afraid of my own brother? CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVENBRAMBLESTARTigerstar’s amber gaze cut at Bramblestar’s pelt like a fox’s teeth. “I see you’re once again determined to be of no help.” “I helped you once.” Bramblestar knew his tone matched his father’s, but that was of no matter. “I killed Firestar on your orders. And look what that got me.” “Oh, no, you did that on your own,” Tigerstar assured him. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. You truly are my son.” “I didn’t want to.” The old leader sighed roughly. “I had great plans for you.” His tone carried the barest trace of a threat. “You would both have ruled the forest.” “Your problem was getting caught,” Hawkfrost meowed. His ice blue eyes were narrowed with pride. “But you—you, too, have another shot. You are here, after all, with us.” “Death is a setback, but it is not the end.” Tigerstar swished his tail. “One cat helping two, two cats helping one; what, then, is the difference?” “The difference is that I won’t be helping you,” Bramblestar meowed. “I’ve had enough of both of you.” Tigerstar shook his head. Deadly sharp claws slid from his toes; Bramblestar did not miss them. He had experienced Tigerstar’s strength firstpaw. Some of the scars that laced his skin had been delivered in this very clearing. “You do not realize the magnitude of the mistake you are making,” his father murmured. “I will allow you to take back what you just said.” “I will not take it back.” Hatred flared in Bramblestar’s chest. “I may be in the Place of No Stars with you, but I am not on your side, and I never have been.” “StarClan is not on yours.” Hawkfrost bristled. “If you join us now, we will forgive your hesitation. We can succeed, the three of us.” “Tawnypelt and Mothwing are weak,” Tigerstar growled derisively. “Tawnypelt named a kit for me—did you know this? I’m sure he will be a fine protÉgÉ. Finer than you ever were.” “Don’t do it,” Bramblestar threatened. “You cannot stop me,” Tigerstar meowed. “All you can do is join me, or be swept away.” Bramblestar took a deep breath, searching for the right words. None came. So instead of replying, he silently turned and padded away through the darkness. The bitingly bitter, uncomfortably warm, stiflingly static air felt heavy in his throat, and he heard paws thumping behind him, but he did not turn around, and neither his father nor his half-brother spoke. I am sorry, Bramblestar thought, not for the first time. He had wandered alone since fleeing ThunderClan. His lives had been squandered, he supposed, but at least some of them had been lost to good causes. He had known from the beginning that killing Firestar was wrong. And yet I did it anyway. How was ThunderClan doing? He had not figured out how to contact living cats, and he could not very well ask any of the cohabitants of his new home. But he would have plenty of time to figure it out, he thought grimly. Bramblestar had refused any permanent company of other cats. He had fought off a fox to help protect a half-blind tomcat; he had braved the harsh mountain winds to investigate rumors of a Sharptooth that was not there; he had carried a kit for miles back to its home; he had told a traveler of Midnight the badger. He had gone to the sun-drown-place to lose his final life. Bramblestar had himself returned to Midnight’s cave moons after directing the traveling tom there, desperate for someone who might be able to help him. The water had taken him again, and this time, there had been no Squirrelflight to rescue him. And now he was here. Alone. CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHTLIONPAW“Tigerstar, I have to tell you what I found out,” said Lionpaw, shifting his paws in anticipation. His mentor would be so proud. “What is it?” the giant tom meowed, sounding disinterested. “I have the power of the stars in my paws,” Lionpaw breathed. His heart raced. “That’s why I can fight so well. There’s a prophecy about me.” Tigerstar sniffed. “Sure there is.” “Jaypaw saw it,” Lionpaw insisted. “Didn’t you see me in the mountains?” “I am not concerned with the past. Only with the battles to come.” Tigerstar’s fur rose. “It is time to train.” “Don’t you remember, though?” Lionpaw protested. “I remember you beating a bunch of rogues with no training or experience,” Tigerstar growled. Lionpaw was a bit uncertain now. “I wasn’t hurt at all.” Tigerstar laughed. “You had me looking out for you, didn’t you? But I might not be there next time—and you did not kill Thornstar.” “Crowfeather stopped me,” Lionpaw reminded him. “There isn’t a prophecy for everything!” snarled Tigerstar. “Power comes only from training. Do as I say.” “There will be three, kin of your—that other cat’s—kin,” Lionpaw recited, hoping he was getting the words right, “with the power of the stars in their paws.” The blur of his mountain battle swept through his mind, and he ran his tongue across the backs of his sharp teeth. “The fire-pelted cat,” Tigerstar repeated drily. “Leafpool’s father, F—Firestar.” “Firestar was a vain fool who thought I deserved death at my friend Nightclaw’s paws because I led ShadowClan instead of ThunderClan,” Tigerstar growled. Lionpaw shrank down. Jaypaw had been so convinced, but maybe Tigerstar was right after all. He had never heard the name Nightclaw before, but Tigerstar had described a small black cat with long claws sharp enough to kill him nine times at once, so that must have been who he was talking about now. “Power comes only from training. Follow me, and you will truly possess the power of the stars. Lionstar—to match Leopardstar and myself.” “Like the legends,” Lionpaw realized. Tigerstar tilted his muzzle down slightly, and Lionpaw recognized it as a small head dip. “Now, let’s see if your wits are as sharp as your claws,” Tigerstar invited. “Attack me. Find a weak spot in my defenses. See if you can get to me.” Lionpaw pounced, and there was a squeal quite uncharacteristic of the charismatic ShadowClan leader. “A fox!” “Fox,” Lionpaw blurted, wide awake now. Dewpaw squirmed in his paws, squeaking in terror. “Oh, no, sorry,” Lionpaw whispered. “Shh, I didn’t mean to grab you.” Dewpaw stopped shrieking. Only a few other cats had woken up. “Oh,” the gray-and-white tom mewed. He still shook as Lionpaw released him. “I thought I was going to die.” “Well, I wouldn’t kill you.” Lionpaw’s heart finally slowed down; he had been excited to show Tigerstar his newfound skills. I could tear him apart, and he’d be fine. I could rip him to shreds over and over, and he wouldn’t die or be hurt—he’d just tell me to fight some more. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” “Yeah.” Dewpaw put his nose under his tail. “I was just dreaming about Redpaw,” he mumbled. A pang of sadness struck Lionpaw. During his journey to the mountains, a patrol had been attacked by a fox, and Redpaw had died. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose Hollypaw or Jaypaw. “Not your fault,” Dewpaw murmured, but Lionpaw could hear the pain in his voice. “I wish I could fight as well as you. Do you think you could show me?” “Maybe sometime.” Lionpaw hoped the younger apprentice would not bring this up again; he was a living cat, flesh and blood, and he could be hurt if Lionpaw’s claws were unsheathed. Heatherpaw was not in the camp. “Bye, Dewpaw. I’m gonna make dirt. Good night.” He padded away toward the tunnel entrance. Get ready, Heatherstar. DarkClan’s going to pay. CHAPTER FIFTY-NINEHOLLYPAWHarespring looked impressed. “Not like you to break the rules,” he meowed, swishing his thick brown-and-white tail. “Leave her alone,” Jaypaw muttered. Hollypaw felt a flash of defiance. “No, he’s right. I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t important.” Jaypaw huffed angrily. “No, he’s wrong. He doesn’t need to make fun of you.” “Stop protecting me. I’m bigger than you,” Hollypaw snapped. Harespring’s amazement had turned to amusement. “Are we finding Sol or not?” Embarrassed, Hollypaw licked her fur down. “Yes. Let’s go, Jaypaw; stop being such a bossy furball. And the same goes to you, Harespring!” “Hey, I’m the senior here,” Harespring teased, green gaze soft. “So where are we going?” Jaypaw stared straight ahead. “He left Clan territories,” he murmured. “I saw Ivypaw on a patrol the other day. She said Sol wandered through ShadowClan land and is living outside the Clans now.” “Talking with enemy apprentices, huh,” Harespring teased. “They’ll make a rebel out of you yet.” Hollypaw flicked her tail. “Ivypaw and I are only friends; we talked a lot on the journey. I would fight her if it ever came to that.” “I know, I know.” Harespring grinned. “We’d better hurry if we want to be back before sundown.” His eyes flashed playfully. “See if you can keep up.” He bounded away through the grass, and Hollypaw took off after him. “Wait up,” Jaypaw grumped behind her. Hollypaw and Harespring slowed down and let him catch up. “You’ve gotta be faster than that,” Harespring mewed. “Run like the WindClan.” Jaypaw snorted. It took some time to travel all the way out of WindClan’s territory. They skirted the ShadowClan border; Hollypaw remembered wrinkling her nose at the rank scent, but she had grown accustomed to Ivypaw quickly, and it didn’t bother her so much anymore. Eventually they picked up the scent of a cat. “It has to be him,” Hollypaw said confidently. Harespring and Jaypaw agreed, and together they tracked the scent to a clearing where the same scent crossed itself over and over. “Hello, apprentices,” Sol greeted them from a tree branch. He gently dropped to the ground; Hollypaw could feel the impact in her own legs. “Why do you seek me?” “That’s what I want to know,” said Harespring. “Hollypaw says if I can keep this a secret I can keep the other thing a secret, too. So what is the reason?” “Harespring is a warrior,” Hollypaw informed Sol. “And we are here to talk to you about a prophecy.” “A prophecy?” Harespring blinked. “What’s it about?” “Jaypaw, Lionpaw, and I are going to—well, we aren’t sure. But Jaypaw says it doesn’t come from StarClan.” “As the sun does not,” Sol observed. “You possess wisdom greater than most, I believe. There is much about which we could talk. I trust you would understand my path, for glory makes one an outsider no matter where one travels.” Harespring stared at Hollypaw, then at Sol. “So does it come from—whatever your version of StarClan is, then?” Sol narrowed his eyes, but he did not look angry. “It does not. No cat knows.” Jaypaw stiffened, and Hollypaw thought there was something odd about his emphasis of the word cat. Maybe that badger.“We wanted to know if you would teach us more about the prophecy,” explained Jaypaw. “You are one of the Three,” Sol meowed. “Yes, we know that,” Hollypaw said, irritated. “What else do you know?” Sol regarded her with puzzlement for a moment, then dipped his head. “We shall see. Let us return to Clan territory.” The three WindClan cats walked with Sol; he ignored their protests as he crossed the ShadowClan border. “Intruders!” spat a voice. Ratscar and emerged from the brush, Ivypaw and Shrewpaw close behind them. “Don’t you have enough land?” Ratscar challenged them. “They accompany me,” Sol replied. “Are you ShadowClan?” Ivypaw and Hollypaw exchanged blinks a bit warily. “I would love to explore the ShadowClan camp,” Sol meowed. “Could I meet Blackstar?” Rowanclaw and Ratscar looked at each other and nodded slowly. “All right,” said the dark ginger tabby, narrowing their eyes. “You can come with us. The WindClan cats will return to their own territory immediately.” The ShadowClan patrol watched as they left. “That was utterly useless,” Jaypaw griped. “Someday you’re going to have to explain,” Harespring commented as they traveled back home. “I will,” promised Hollypaw. “Someday.” But internally, she decided she would not. Not until it had been fulfilled and she was the leader of the Clan. CHAPTER SIXTYJAYPAWJaypaw grabbed the rabbit before him. It was fat, and it kicked violently back at him, catching him in the jaw. “Fox dung,” he hissed, but he maintained his grip, and the rabbit went limp. Jaypaw carried the rabbit up to the wide fork in the tunnel, then sprinted back down. He could sense his distance from the others; Ashfoot’s mind, he knew, was as sharp as ever, but when he searched her thoughts he found only faint traces of concentration and her own warrior assessment. I hope Hollypaw and Lionpaw are having fun, he thought sarcastically. He had already completed his battle assessment, and he was certain that he would pass, since really all he had to do was bring back a couple of decent rabbits. His siblings would be followed by their mentors, and they would be judged not only on final catch but on technique as well; there was no way to do this in the tunnels. His ears pricked and he detected a mouse scurrying nearby. Jaypaw had become so accustomed to the tunnels that he hardly paused before thrusting himself forward and snapping the tiny thing’s neck with his teeth. Depositing the mouse with the rabbit, he turned to find a third kill. It did not take long for him to pick up a scent, but it was quite faint, and he had to follow it some distance, all the way to where the sound of a furious, cold river thrummed in the back of his head and rattled his bones. Mustering his resolve, Jaypaw thought he might as well face his fears. Just the thought of the cavern with the river was enough to set his pelt on end, but he tried to calm his nerves. A true warrior is not afraid of anything, he told himself. Jaypaw hurried down the tunnel. He couldn’t turn back; he told himself that he was going too quickly to stop, although he didn’t feel like he was moving at even a typical walking pace. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up.He could almost feel the water on his whiskers when he turned on his heels and ran. Jaypaw caught another rabbit. He didn’t know how much time went by; for all he knew, this catch had taken a moon. But he gathered up the three catches he had made, heart pounding, whole body quivering, and slowly brought them up to the surface where Ashfoot and Tornear waited. They were as fearful as him. Jaypaw felt a brief flash of panic. My power isn’t a power—they can do it too—they’ve felt what I was feeling. But there was something very strange about their fear. “Nice catch, Jaypaw,” Tornear said in a thin, strangled voice. Ashfoot made a small noise that sounded like the last breath of a mouse. Jaypaw took it as an expression of her agreement with Tornear, but that didn’t explain the rank fear-scent that radiated from their pelts in waves. Still neither of them explained. “What’s going on?” he finally asked, getting frustrated. Ashfoot made another strange noise. He heard her swallow. Then she drew a deep, shaky breath and said, “StarClan’s killed the sun.” Jaypaw thought back to his journey to find Sol. Mouse dung. He couldn’t have stayed in his nice little nest and told us anything, could he? He just had to run off to ShadowClan. He didn’t really see the problem with the sun’s disappearance. Maybe it would be chilly if it never returned, but every cat had experienced nighttime before. “It was slowly swallowed up by the moon,” Tornear rasped. Jaypaw felt a shudder run through the old tom. “Bite by bite, the shadow spread across it. Like when it changes over the course of a moon, but much, much faster. It should be, for most cats, quite easy to see right now, but there is nothing left of the sun save for a pale ring. A spirit. The world is gray and black. The colors of your fur, and mine, and Ashfoot’s.” Jaypaw allowed himself to slip into Tornear’s mind. The warrior gave no resistance; he was utterly focused on the sun’s disappearance. This was alarming, Jaypaw decided. He would have been fine without the sun, but the sky was entirely black. Tornear had no real memories of anything anywhere close to this. His vision was about as useless as it would have been in the tunnels. Tornear’s mind played on repeat the dizzying sensation of falling into a chasm. He had walked in this dream before. Jaypaw gritted his teeth as the ground repeatedly dropped from under him, sand crumbling at his paws, and tried to focus on what Tornear could actually see. Dark, cold, gray grasses swayed around the three cats. The beginnings of leafbare had already lowered the temperature, but the eclipse had made it much cooler now than it had been when Jaypaw had gone down. A breeze stirred at his whiskers, but though he recognized the scents, they all felt more distant, as if he were detached from the rest of the world. Gradually Jaypaw realized he could not hear any birds. The night insects’ songs did not surround him, either. This was the quietest he had ever heard the moor. The sound of lapping waves all the way down at the lakeshore jolted him out of the other cat’s mind, and he thought he might have let out a frightened mewl, but Tornear and Ashfoot did not comment on it. A chilling peace swept over them, and Jaypaw allowed the water sound to envelop his thoughts. This is the end, Jaypaw thought. StarClan is dead.“Thank StarClan,” Ashfoot breathed. Lifting his muzzle, Jaypaw could see through her eyes that a tiny sliver of light had reappeared at the edge of the sun. Warm gold shone down onto the earth, illuminating the grass once again. “The sun is beginning to come back,” Tornear whispered. “There is very little, but it has made a world of difference.” CHAPTER SIXTY-ONELIONPAWLionpaw was still shaken, but the sun had reappeared, and Onestar had called them all together. “StarClan has returned to us the sun,” said Onestar. “This is their way of telling us the darkness has passed. Many of us have harbored much grief, ill will, and hostilities since the time of fighting when we first arrived here at the lake. Now, however, we are free to move forward at last. This makes today an excellent time to celebrate the advancement of not one but five apprentices to the rank of warrior.” Lionpaw, Hollypaw, Jaypaw, Heatherpaw, and Antpaw all stepped forward, clustering beneath the Tallrock as their mentors approached. “Do you five promise to uphold the warrior code and to defend WindClan, even at the cost of your lives?” “I do,” the apprentices replied in as close to unison as could be expected. “Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior names.” A spark of confusion twisted through Lionpaw’s chest for a moment at Onestar’s wording, but then that was the typical wording, wasn’t it? The powers of StarClan—I’ve got all the powers of the stars.“Lionpaw, you have shown yourself to be a strong, fearless, and resourceful fighter. For this, you will now be known as Lionstorm.” Guilt stabbed his sides as he thought greedily of pounding the living daylights out of the mountain invaders, and he found himself baring his teeth in some kind of glorious pride while Owlwhisker licked his shoulder. It suddenly struck him that he was now larger than his mentor, and this threw him off enough that his thoughts of battle dissolved. “Hollypaw, you have dedicated yourself not only to your hunting and training but to healing as well. I name you Hollyheart. Jaypaw, it has been an honor to watch you grow, and I have heard you took to the tunnels like a fish to water. To commemorate your remarkable talents, you will be known as Jayfeather, by request.” Weaselfur and Ashfoot licked their former apprentices’ shoulders. Whose request? Lionstorm thought, but Crowfeather looked so proud that he had his answer. Jayfeather was named after his father. “Heatherpaw, you are one of the Clan’s fastest runners and brightest hunters. Your warrior name is Heathertail.” Crowfeather licked Heathertail’s shoulder, and Onestar beamed at Whitetail. Lionstorm didn’t think he remembered ever seeing the white warrior so happy with her mate; she usually treated him coldly, but now she returned his loving gaze. “Antpaw, you regrettably started your training late, but you are Heathertail’s age as well, and Gorsetail tells me you passed your assessment with flying colors. Your spirit is one to admire; you will be known as Antpelt.” Gorsetail licked his shoulder. Lionstorm closed his eyes and lifted his tail as the Clan chanted their names. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Breezepaw, whose head was turned down and to the side. The apprentice’s jaws did not move, but his eyes burned fiercely, and they were fixed directly on Lionstorm. “These five will sit a silent vigil tonight under StarClan. In addition, I have an apprentice to name. Sunkit.” Sunkit squealed and dashed forward. Lionstorm realized in horror that he didn’t even know whose kit she was. No cat could have been her mother! Gorsetail probably cared for her, but it must have hurt to have her mother taken from her so early. Maybe one of the older warriors he had never given much thought to had given birth and then returned to duty as soon as possible. How much have I missed? Sunkit was older than Gorsetail’s kits. Staring around the clearing, he noticed how relieved Crowfeather looked, which puzzled him. Emberfoot was assigned to mentor Sunpaw. Onestar climbed down from the rock. Dewpaw bounced up to him, and Lionstorm heard him say that Dewpaw’s warrior ceremony would come in time. “All storms pass, and all nights end,” Barkface meowed to the new warriors. That wasn’t needlessly cryptic at all.“That’s a good name, Jayfeather,” Kestrelflight mewed, tail held high. “I’ll sit vigil with you tonight.” Lionstorm noticed a rather uncharacteristic gratitude in his brother’s eyes. “Onestar says one day I’ll be the greatest warrior,” Dewpaw informed them. “But right now it’s your turn.” Brackenpaw rolled his eyes and muttered something. Dewpaw pounced, and they rolled on the ground kicking at each other. Breezepaw glared at Lionstorm. “Oh, yes, WindClan’s finest.” Lionstorm tried to smile encouragingly. We can still be friends! he tried to say, but he would usually be able to use real words, so he wasn’t sure if Breezepaw understood. I don’t think I’m better than you just because I’m older.“Congratulations, all of you,” Crowfeather meowed warmly as Breezepaw stalked away. “My kits, my apprentice, Antpelt.” That night Lionstorm and Heathertail sat with their pelts brushing. Hollyheart and Harespring touched noses, but she jerked her muzzle toward the center of the camp to tell him it was okay for him to sleep while she sat watch. Antpelt settled down comfortably, black ears perked. Kestrelflight kept his promise, joining Jayfeather where he sat and wrapping his tail around the new warrior’s back. Lionstorm was exhausted, but he kept himself awake. This was it—he had done it. He knew it was silly, but he couldn’t help feeling like the sun’s disappearance and return had come today because of him. He was one of the Three. This was his destiny. CHAPTER SIXTY-TWOHOLLYHEART“Willowpaw!” Hollyheart cried as the dark gray she-cat bounded across the clearing ahead of her mentor. “Willowshine, actually.” Her blue eyes glowed. “What about you? Kestrelflight said Jayfeather got his name.” “Hollyheart. And my other brother’s Lionstorm.” “That’s cool.” Willowshine glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah. Pretty cool.” “What’s wrong?” Hollyheart scrambled to her paws. Willowshine had not acted like this since she had helped block up the stream. “Is it more Twoleg trouble, or are there foxes, or—” Willowshine cut her off. “Nothing is threatening RiverClan.” Mothwing had caught up now, and she looked even more distraught than her apprentice. Hollyheart stared. “Well, something’s definitely wrong.” Mothwing’s amber eyes glinted, and she curled her tail, passing the others and beckoning them to follow. “Willowshine, you must be cautious of releasing much information to rival Clan cats. I know—” Willowshine had opened her mouth to complain, but Mothwing stopped her sternly. “I know that Hollyheart is your friend. And Hollyheart, I know that with circumstances as they are, or at least as they usually are, you would not use information against us unless you deemed it necessary for survival. “Just remain cautious, especially now, because he will look for any excuse to silence us.” Willowshine nodded. “Sorry, Mothwing. Sorry, Hollyheart.” “Who?” Hollyheart whispered, but Willowshine and Mothwing didn’t need to answer. She could see him. “Not Hawkfrost.” The dark-pelted tom hauled himself up the trunk of the giant tree. “Hawkstar,” Willowshine confirmed. Hollyheart tried not to let her fur bush out, but she knew how bad this was for all of the Clans. Hawkstar would be a terror to his Clanmates as well as a danger to WindClan and ShadowClan, and surely ThunderClan could not return to a forest ruled by this sort of leader. “Leopardstar’s been sick for a while, but she would have lasted a few more seasons easily,” Mothwing explained. “I found her dead for the last time almost a quarter moon ago, after the sun came back, with her legs splayed out and with her throat full of bones. There was a claw mark on her muzzle, and there was a practically boneless, half-eaten water vole with the scent of deathberries on it. It isn’t too hard to see what happened.” Hollyheart nodded, eyes widening. Hawkstar had poisoned and choked Leopardstar, and since he didn’t get caught, there was nothing any cat could do about it. “He has just enough followers in the Clan that we can’t overpower him,” Mothwing said helplessly. “He’s been bloodthirsty, sure, but he’s also been a great fisher and amazingly protective of the borders. If his heart were in the right place, he would be one of the best warriors in the forest.” “They said the same thing about Tigerstar,” Barkface sighed. Hollyheart jumped; she had forgotten the WindClan medicine cat was there, since Kestrelflight had stayed home to look after the ailing Rushtail. Peering upward she noticed that Onestar looked aghast. Barkface had seen his leader, too, and to Hollyheart he said, “All storms pass, and all nights end.” “But how long will it take?” Mothwing murmured, amber eyes clouding. “A night that lasts ten moons will kill us all before the dawn can come.” “StarClan will watch out for us.” Mothwing paused, staring coolly at him for a moment, then dipped her head. “As much as they always have.” “Where is ShadowClan?” Hawkstar called from the tree. Something occurred to Hollyheart. “He didn’t attack them, did he?” Willowshine shook her head. She looked fearful, but she mewed, “He can’t have. We never stopped our usual patrols, and we’re all here now, aren’t we? There’s no time when we ever got together a battle patrol, and he couldn’t have beaten them all with only one or two warriors.” Hollyheart nodded. “That’s true.” How can Blackstar be so late? “So who’d he pick for deputy?” “Dawnflower,” Mothwing answered, tilting her ears toward a pale she-cat at the base of the tree. She and Ashfoot seemed at odds from their posturing, but they spoke nonetheless. “Is Dawnflower bad, too?” Mothwing and Willowshine considered. Willowshine opened her mouth, but it was Barkface who spoke first. “Dawnflower has been hostile to Clans outside her own, and she has been unfriendly to me when I have attempted to initiate conversation. I believe ‘bad’ is an unfair judgment; she believes she is doing what is best for her Clan; but I also believe that it is unfortunate that she has been granted such power.” “Basically that,” Willowshine agreed. Hawkstar had grown even more impatient. “Does any cat know where Blackstar is? I have a few choice words for when he arrives—if he ever feels like it!” The dark clouds overhead threatened to engulf the moon. Hollyheart heard, then felt, a rain begin, but the bright white moon was still fully visible. Onestar shifted farther away from RiverClan’s new leader. When Blackstar finally did appear, however, things did not go smoothly. CHAPTER SIXTY-THREEHOLLYHEARTThe white tom strode boldly into the clearing, but now beside him was, instead of his Clan, a single cat. Water beaded on his heavy black-and-white whiskers. “Sol!” Hollyheart hissed. “I remember him,” a small RiverClan cat said. Mothwing padded forward a few steps. “Quiet, Copperpaw.” “Why have you not brought your Clan, Blackstar?” Hawkstar’s eyes were sharp. “We’ve been waiting.” Blackstar’s amber gaze was peaceful. “RiverClan. WindClan. Long has the forest held four Clans—but we are not in the forest, and we are not four anymore. ShadowClan does not see fit to uphold traditions that will lead only to disaster. We will no longer be attending Gatherings.” “Afraid of a truce, are you?” Hawkstar spat. Hollyheart shuddered as clouds began to pass in front of the moon. She heard someone whisper, “They’re going to take away our light forever this time.” Blinking rainwater out of his eyes, Blackstar held his ground and mewed, “After what passed with ThunderClan, I cannot in good conscience allow ShadowClan to meet the same fate. StarClan does not watch out for us; the sun’s disappearance is proof enough of that. For who would take the sun from us? Not our own fallen kin.” “A Clan can’t just stop coming to a Gathering,” Dawnflower objected, rising to her paws. Hollyheart could have sworn she saw the tips of the deputy’s claws poke from her thick fur. “StarClan’s been watchin’ out for me since the day I was born,” Blackclaw grunted. “Not everythin’ stays the same forever. What happened to ThunderClan was terrible, but it’s turnin’ our backs on StarClan that’ll get our tails handed to us, too.” Blackstar shook his head. “If StarClan could provide for us, the sun would not have left, ThunderClan would not have left, and we all would not have left the forest we fought so hard to keep.” He turned and left. Sol padded along behind him, and Hollyheart watched the movement of the pattern of his fur, mesmerized. Hawkstar and Onestar both looked bewildered. “What is he doing?” Hawkstar hissed. This snapped Hollyheart out of her fascination with the already-vanished Sol; the RiverClan leader was scary at the best of times, and now he bristled to twice his size, high above the two Clans. “ShadowClan cannot survive that way,” Onestar meowed, sounding guilty, “but they are at least smart enough to realize that. He will change his mind.” “RiverClan’s got Dapplenose, Pouncetail, Copperpaw, Robinpaw, and Nettlepaw,” Hawkstar snarled. The gathered cats chanted the names. He’s going to announce me! Hollyheart thought, a thrill of excitement making her want to twitch her paws. Sure enough, Onestar meowed, “WindClan has five new warriors, Heathertail, Antpelt, Hollyheart, Lionstorm, and Jayfeather. We also began training Sunpaw, an abandoned kit we found near the horseplace.” She closed her eyes as the cats’ chanting washed over her. It wasn’t as loud as it had been at previous Gatherings. At least some cats are here; Ivypaw isn’t even getting announced at all.There was no more time to share tongues, and Hollyheart said goodbye to Willowshine feeling that soon WindClan would be the only Clan left. CHAPTER SIXTY-FOURHOLLYHEART“Uh, there’s a patrol coming this way,” Antpelt called, halfway through the camp entrance. “They don’t look like they want to fight, but there’s a bunch of cats there.” “Oh, wonderful,” moaned Breezepaw. Lionstorm shrugged. “Either they’re not a threat or we fight them off. No big deal.” Hollyheart’s pelt prickled. He certainly seemed eager enough to fight. He had changed so much from the little golden scrap with no brain for battle—and, she realized, quite a bit from the clever-but-exhausted cat who could hardly even swing his paw. “Escort them here,” meowed Ashfoot. Hollyheart padded beside Emberfoot and Harespring to meet the newcomers. To her surprise, Ivypaw was among them. “What are you doing here?” Ashfoot asked them. The broad-muzzled she-cat looked a bit uncomfortable; presumably she didn’t like welcoming them without Onestar’s consent. Tawnypelt—Hollyheart recognized her, as well as Rowanclaw—stepped forward from the band of cats. “We apologize for intruding, but you probably heard at the Gathering the other day that ShadowClan, well, isn’t a Clan anymore.” “A loner told Blackstar all about the sun, and he actually listened,” Rowanclaw butted in. Ashfoot dipped her head. “We can delve into specifics later. If you are here to ask for a battle patrol, I do not have the authority to make such decisions myself, but I doubt Onestar will be open to the idea.” “We don’t want to fight our Clanmates,” a smallish ginger tom cried in alarm. “We aren’t fighting them,” Tawnypelt assured him. She licked the fur down on the top of his head. “We do not know what we should do, I’m afraid. I suppose you’d call this begging.” Rowanclaw bristled. “It isn’t begging. We are warriors, and we want to lead Clan life as it was meant to be led.” “Of course,” mewed Ashfoot. “Ah, ShadowClan, never letting go of their pride.” Emberfoot’s voice was small and low and did not carry. “Only their dignity.” “We came here so we could be warriors here,” Ivypaw explained. The stiffness in the tortoiseshell’s back told Hollyheart that Ivypaw was no less chagrined by this apparent weakness than Rowanclaw. “These are Rowanclaw, Ivytail, and my kits, Flamekit, Tigerkit, and Dawnkit,” Tawnypelt meowed. “They will be apprentice age soon, but Blackstar is doing away with the traditional mentor-apprentice system. There are benefits to change, but I don’t want their training to be lacking.” “It’s not so much that we’re all dying. Mostly it’s the future that’s the problem. If ShadowClan stops fighting and training, then we’re no more than a bunch of scraggly rogues, beaten as easily as the cats we scared away from the Tribe.” Ivytail dipped her head. “I want to have a future, even if it has to be here.” Ashfoot mewed, “If I can persuade Onestar to give you refuge here, then I will. Unfortunately I cannot promise anything, but he did once allow us to take in a litter of kits born to…a medicine cat who could not raise them in her own Clan.” Hollyheart and Ivytail had very little to talk about, but the young ShadowClan warrior seemed content enough with meeting Hollyheart’s friends; she recognized several of them from patrols and Harespring from when the WindClan cats had gone to meet Sol, grumbling that he was one paw away from being a bad omen. Hollyheart wanted to show Tawnypelt to the nursery with the kits, but Whitetail beat her to it. Frustrated, she led Ivytail down into a badger sett instead. “Can I come too, or is this a mountain-cat-only journey?” Harespring called after them. Hollyheart wasn’t sure whether she should invite him or tease him, but he straightened up and looked away anyway. “Dewpaw and Brackenpaw’re here.” He hesitated before padding away, and Hollyheart and Ivytail followed. Hollyheart checked to make sure there was no earth on her pelt when Onestar arrived. Ivytail drew her away from where Onestar deliberated with his senior warriors, but he climbed up the Tallrock and called a meeting soon enough that Hollyheart was not left to wonder for long. “I’ve decided to allow the ShadowClan cats to stay. The warriors will be closely guarded, and the kits will be raised WindClan.” His eyes fluttered over the Clan. “One more thing. Whitetail says her apprentice has passed his assessment. Breezepaw, do you promise to uphold the code and defend WindClan, even at the cost of your life?” Breezepaw looked shocked for a moment, then immediately smug. “I do.” This seemed a strange time to hold a ceremony; half the Clan was out of camp. Maybe he wanted to put on an impressive face for the new cats. “Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. You are a swift cat, and your will to greatness has not gone unnoticed; you will be known as Breezepelt.” Hollyheart almost wanted to stay silent, but she knew it would be inexcusably rude, so she chanted his name with everyone else. “There is more,” Onestar said. “Gorsetail’s kits have reached six moons of age. Yes, you little fur bundles, come here.” The kits tumbled from behind the gray-and-white warrior, squeaking excitedly. Nearby Hollyheart saw Poppystream grin and remembered how excited the tortoiseshell’s kits had been at their ceremony. I hope I wasn’t so embarrassing.“Your names will be Swallowpaw, Thistlepaw, and Sedgepaw,” Onestar announced. “I think it’s about time we give our younger warriors some experience. “Lionstorm, you will mentor Swallowpaw; teach her how to exceed the limits she can breach. Hollyheart, you have asked to mentor Thistlepaw. Help her to take the responsibility any warrior needs. Harespring, you will be mentor to Sedgepaw; I expect you to pass down all the knowledge you have accrued.” “We’re going to be mentors together,” Harespring meowed, nudging Hollyheart as they hurried to touch their noses to their apprentices’. Hollyheart chanted the new apprentices’ names enthusiastically. I did it! CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVELIONSTORMHe urged Swallowpaw along. The grass was starting to get crunchy from leafbare, the air swirled crisply around him with the threat of snow, and he wanted to finish this patrol as soon as possible. “Smell that?” he yawned as they reached the border. “RiverClan smell kind of like fish.” Beside him, Emberfoot chuckled. “There’s a good reason for it, too. You won’t find a RiverClan cat hunting WindClan prey; they can’t run, only fish.” “Doesn’t stop them from trying,” Lionstorm grunted. Swallowpaw stopped walking. “Lionstorm?” With an inward groan he motioned for Emberfoot and Sunpaw to stop. “What is it, Swallowpaw?” “I don’t like the ground. It’s wet and cold.” She shivered, eyes going wide. “It’s like being in the tunnels.” “That’s—” Lionstorm broke off. He wasn’t sure how to handle this. “Look, Swallowpaw, I understand how scary the tunnels were, but you’re safe here, okay?” “Yeah.” She didn’t look totally convinced, but she managed to lift her paw and keep walking. It wasn’t much longer before Lionstorm picked up a scent. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He veered away from the border, nose close to the frosty grass. A RiverClan patrol had entered their territory. Mouse dung, Emberfoot, you couldn’t have kept quiet with all that?The WindClan hills provided very little cover for the RiverClan cats, so at least he spotted them quickly. “This way,” he snarled, bounding toward them. Maybe he should have waited. But in the moment, Lionstorm was just caught up in the thrill of battle. He plunged down the hill, momentum carrying him forward all the way to the startled RiverClan cats. None of them tried to explain anything. A pale gray she-cat immediately swatted at him; he was caught off guard by this, and the sensation of his own skin tearing enraged him. Lionstorm went for the gray cat’s throat. She squawked, and he clawed at her fur. She managed to break away, but Lionstorm knew from the blood and fur in his mouth that it had hurt her a lot. “Fox-heart,” she wheezed. Another RiverClan cat tackled him, but he was now fully engaged in battle. Lionstorm kicked at his attacker, sending them sprawling onto the ground. “We have to get out, Dawnflower,” shrieked one of the cats. Dawnflower was apparently the gray cat who had first struck, because she snarled, “We will not get out!” Lionstorm swung a forepaw at her, but as she moved to dodge, he jabbed at her with the other paw. This surprised her, and blood shot from her mouth as she coughed. He became vaguely aware of the other cats around him now. His patrol had caught up. They were fighting, almost as if all of them were warriors instead of just the two mentors. Dawnflower’s fur was soft and ran hot and sticky with her blood. He could feel her claws dragging uselessly over his pelt, barely registering as even sharp. This is what I was meant to do.A piteous wail startled him. It wasn’t enough to snap him out of battle, but it did catch his attention long enough for Dawnflower to get away again and whack him heavily on the skull. He bowled her over, and now she wasn’t even trying to fight, just to keep him at bay. Her paws pressed into his neck, legs straight as trees, and she strained to get out from under his weight. Her jaws were moving. Lionstorm planned to slowly crush her, but this was not as exhilarating as using his claws would have been. As he grew bored, he noticed that she was making noise. Craning closer, he heard the word retreat. “I will not retreat,” he roared, drawing back a paw and slashing at her muzzle. “Lionstorm!” Swallowpaw shrieked. “Stop it!” He stopped. His ears buzzed loudly. How long had they been ringing? He could still hardly hear Dawnflower, though he could see bright red blood bubbling in her throat and all over her battered pelt. “They’re surrendering,” Emberfoot panted. His gray fur was dark with slicks of blood. “We don’t have to kill them.” I want to! Lionstorm blinked, and suddenly he was afraid. “You’re hurt,” he said numbly. “So it’s time to get back to camp.” Lionstorm obliged, hoping Barkface and Kestrelflight would not think it too strange that he had only one scratch. He wished he could have transferred all of Emberfoot’s wounds to himself; having a power was cheating. My destiny is bigger than yours, Emberfoot. I’m sorry. CHAPTER SIXTY-SIXSTORMFUR“It isn’t your fault, Thornstar.” Stormfur had grown tired of repeating these words, but he thought the ThunderClan leader needed to hear it. This time, though, Thornstar just sighed. “I don’t try to blame anyone anymore. You can blame me, you can blame Onestar, you can go all the way back and blame Tigerstar or Brokenstar, but in the end, you know what’s true of all of us? StarClan gave the Clans a bad deal.” “I don’t think StarClan was okay with this,” Stormfur meowed. Thornstar shrugged. “They let it happen.” He padded away, calling Brightheart, Crag, Rosefoot, and Honeyfern to patrol. Stormfur gazed around the cave, restless now that he didn’t even have Thornstar to console. Leafbare’s coming; we can use all the extra food we can get, he decided, and he headed outside to fish. Screech of Angry Owl, the newest prey-hunter, proudly showed him the two fish he had caught. Stormfur flicked his ears, and Screech looked satisfied. As he crouched by the stream he thought longingly of the fat fish in RiverClan’s territory. The catch here was meager in comparison, but at least it was something. Flight’s kits crowded around him. They would be to-bes soon. “I bet I can catch a bigger fish than you,” Sun Low on Horizon boasted. Petal of Frozen Flower tried to push Sun into the water. “You’re not even gonna learn to fish!” “Everyone learns to fish,” Stormfur reminded them, amused. Petal groaned. “Not Sun.” “Even Sun.” Stormfur extended a paw just in time to stop Petal from kicking their brother into the water. “Careful.” “But I want him to fall in,” Petal complained. Frost on Brittle Grass kept far back from his littermates, and Stormfur sent them all back to where he crouched. “Fishing is a good skill to have, but I don’t want to have to use it to fish any of you out of the river.” By the time Thornstar’s patrol returned, Stormfur had caught four fish. It had taken longer than he had realized; with Flight’s kits playing behind him and occasionally asking questions or begging him to join their mock battles as a sharptooth, he had been too distracted to notice the passage of time. “Nice catch,” Stormfur called with a nod to the mice in Thornstar’s and Brightheart’s jaws. The ThunderClan cats dipped their heads in thanks and carried the prey into the cave. “Why don’t you have our names?” Petal asked, stepping on Stormfur’s tail. Stormfur hesitated. She probably meant names in the Tribe’s style. Should I tell them? It could scare them. “We come from a place far away, and once they have enough cats or StarClan tells them they can go home they will.” Petal was already distracted, batting at his tail. Stormfur resigned it to the game, twitching it to encourage the kits. When they finally stopped biting his tail, Stormfur picked up his catch and shooed them into the cave, carrying the fish in after them. Stoneteller flicked his ears, and Stormfur returned the gesture. “I never thought I’d see the day when we’d eat this well in leafbare,” Brook mewed, gray eyes sparkling. “Well, things are starting to look up.” Had it really been only—what, thirteen moons?—since they’d left? The horror of losing their home had not been lost on Stormfur; it still gnawed at his chest every time he saw a ThunderClan cat; but it seemed to him that life had always been that way. There had been a few more fatalities—Poppypaw, Birchfall, Whitewing—but those had been some time ago. “Stormfur!” Rainkit, one of Brightheart and Cloudtail’s new litter, bounced up to him. “Guess what? Stoneteller says he’ll train me to be a medicine cat.” “Congratulations.” Stormfur touched his nose to Rainkit’s head. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine medicine cat.” Rainkit scampered away to tell someone else the news, but Stormfur could see from the others’ expressions that he had already told every cat in the cave. He wanted to tell Thornstar that everything would be okay, that ThunderClan was growing stronger every day, that they could return home. Even now, however, he knew that it would be many more seasons until the mountain Clan could travel. The storm will return in time, he told himself. How much longer will that be? CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVENJAYFEATHERJayfeather kept his jaws parted, scenting for RiverClan intruders. Lionstorm’s patrol had fought not too far from here; he could smell the blood. Hollyheart had said Dawnflower was RiverClan’s new deputy. If that was true, then Jayfeather was definitely worried. She would not be happy about being turned back to her border. Can’t we just post Lionstorm guard and be done with it? he thought angrily. The great lump wouldn’t even see a problem with it.“Smell anything, Jayfeather?” Brackenpaw meowed. Jayfeather wasn’t sure how to answer this. “Of course I smell something,” he snapped. Maybe it had been a bit rude, but Brackenpaw could handle it. The apprentice made a strange sound, somewhere between a snort and a sigh. Jayfeather almost wanted to be impressed at the feat, but he twitched his tail. “Don’t fall behind.” Brackenpaw, who had definitely not been falling behind, did not reply. “Hold on, I hear something.” Mottlenose mewed, “Something of note, or simply something?” I already said that just now, Jayfeather thought, but maybe he had had it coming. “Someone is walking toward us from the RiverClan side.” He felt every muscle of Poppystream’s body stiffen. “How many?” “I don’t know. A lot of paws.” Jayfeather swiveled his ears, trying to pinpoint exactly where the sounds came from. “There,” said Whitetail. Poppystream slapped a paw against the ground, whispering, “This direction.” Mottlenose’s tail swished past Jayfeather’s whiskers, making him jump. “They are very close now. Prepare for battle.” Their fish stink rolled over Jayfeather. He crouched, ready to defend himself, as the pounding paws drew closer. A heavy RiverClan cat collided with his flank. Jayfeather shrieked and rolled away, scrambling to his paws and trying to face his attacker directly. “Get on your own land, you pieces of fox dung!” His assailant didn’t reply. Jayfeather braced himself for claws, but then the cat’s skull smashed into his muzzle. His teeth jarred together. Jayfeather quickly batted a paw at the other cat, wrapping it around one of their forepaws. The fur was long and thick and slick with water, but his claws found a hold, and he pulled. His opponent was stronger and definitely much larger. They brought a paw down between his shoulders, knocking the wind out of him, then kicked at his already throbbing muzzle. “I know who you are,” they exclaimed. “You’re that blind cat.” Jayfeather snarled. “I am more than just a blind cat.” He readied himself for another attack, but in the sounds and smells of battle he didn’t notice the RiverClan cat’s movement, and they struck his flank where they had pounced the first time. “Poppystream,” Whitetail mewed urgently. Ignoring her, Jayfeather kicked with both hind paws at the other warrior, but he didn’t think he was connecting with the tender parts of their underbelly. They hissed; Jayfeather’s own blood sprayed back in his face, and the cat’s pungent breath turned his gut. Suddenly he was beneath the other cat’s paws. Claws like blackthorns ripped at his flesh, and he squealed, no longer the fearsome warrior he wanted to be. Whitetail, Brackenpaw, Poppystream, and at least one of the RiverClan cats were speaking, but he tried to block them out; they distracted him. The pressure lessened. For less than a heartbeat Jayfeather thought it was because he was dying, and a panic he didn’t have time to identify blazed in his heart, but the cool air and the relief of the wind on his bloodied pelt immediately confirmed he was alive. “There’s been enough bloodshed, Pinefur,” warned a voice Jayfeather had heard before at a Gathering. Reedwhisker, maybe? Pinefur shook out their pelt. Jayfeather’s shredded skin was almost numb, but he heard drops of blood hit the ground. “I wasn’t going to kill him,” the warrior grunted. Like the dark forest you weren’t.“Mottlenose,” Brackenpaw whimpered. Jayfeather sniffed to locate the older warrior, but he found only a worsening stench. Whitetail confirmed his suspicions. “Mottlenose is already dead.” “Why didn’t you take her to Barkface?” Brackenpaw demanded, wild pain cracking his voice. “There wasn’t time,” Whitetail mewed mournfully. Brackenpaw hissed. “You didn’t even try.” “I failed,” Whitetail admitted. “I did not expect them to kill any of us.” Poppystream padded closer to her son. “It is always sad when a warrior dies. I was lucky enough that Tornear was able to train me without dying first; I know you must be very upset, and I understand that. We will all mourn Mottlenose’s loss, but part of being a warrior means being strong enough to move on.” The leafbare cold had settled over Jayfeather, and the blood matting on his chest was beginning to harden. “It’s too late for Mottlenose, but you still have to see the medicine cats,” he told Brackenpaw. The apprentice hissed, but he walked with them as they returned to camp. ThunderClan was in the mountains, ShadowClan had turned from StarClan, RiverClan served a brutal leader, and WindClan would be everyone’s target. I have the power of the stars. It would be up to Jayfeather to save all the Clans now. CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHTLIONSTORM“Just as long as you’re sure this is important.” Lionstorm’s paws were heavy with misgivings. “It’s really important,” Flamepaw insisted. He had just recently become Nightcloud’s apprentice; his brother and sister had been given to Owlwhisker and Whitetail. Tigerpaw tried to get around in front of Lionstorm, but the warrior held out a wide paw to stop his muzzle. “You don’t know the way any better than I do, and if anything happens, I want it to be me that has to face it.” Excitement buzzed through his bones at the thought of driving his claws deep into ShadowClan flesh, and he gritted his teeth guiltily as he let it linger. The ShadowClan cats had not adjusted well to WindClan, but Blackstar had not reinstated patrols. Apparently Weaselfur and friends had hunted in ShadowClan territory recently and been met by only a pair of warriors who had threatened to kill them. Tawnypelt’s kits had come to Lionstorm first. It seemed when Heathertail had commented on his lack of injury from battle that the kits had decided to regard him as a cat worthy of StarClan in his own right. Tigerpaw had been the one to approach him. They wanted to fake a sign from StarClan so that Blackstar would be forced to acknowledge them again. “We don’t just need to prove that they exist. We have to make them real,” Dawnpaw had explained. “He got nine lives from them, so he knows they’re there. If he sees them doing things in our world, too, he can’t ignore them any longer.” Lionstorm was the muscle. He led the apprentices along the lakeshore. “You sure Blackstar’s going to come this way?” he whispered. Flamepaw nodded. “If there’s any hope left for him at all, then Littlecloud won’t have stopped.” Lionstorm didn’t want to risk getting overheard, so he didn’t ask for any clarification. Eventually he came across a well-traversed path down to the lake, and Flamepaw told him it was unquestionably Blackstar and Littlecloud. Now that he knew what he was looking for he could smell herbs, though they mostly just smelled like the plants surrounding them. “I’m a good actor,” Tigerpaw assured him, slinking into the ferns. Confused, Lionstorm glanced at Dawnpaw and Flamepaw. Their expressions told him nothing. At least I can outfight anything that would threaten them, he reminded himself. His nerves flared, but he wasn’t sure whether he feared for the apprentices or hoped a battle would happen. “They’re coming,” Dawnpaw hissed. “Come on, we’re gonna chuck pinecones at him.” Lionstorm didn’t think that would make a convincing sign, but this was no time to argue. The two apprentices scurried up the tree like squirrels, and Lionstorm hauled himself up after them, hating that it swayed under his weight. Sure enough, there came Blackstar and Littlecloud. The medicine cat pleaded with Blackstar—Lionstorm could see it in his face, though he could not make out most of the words. Blackstar was unyielding. Or maybe he just paid no attention at all. “Blackstar,” Tigerpaw boomed in a voice so unlike his own that had Lionstorm not seen him enter the cluster of ferns he would not have recognized the young tom. “Why do you doubt in StarClan now?” Blackstar gazed balefully at Littlecloud, but upon seeing the medicine cat’s confusion he pricked up his ears and tried to locate the source of the voice. Dawnpaw and Flamepaw each nipped a tiny pinecone from the tree, which swayed precariously, and dropped them to the forest floor. Lionstorm delicately picked off a larger cone, worried that the ShadowClan leader would hear as he snapped it from the tree. “We have looked after your Clan for countless moons. Seasons.” Lionstorm readied himself to throw, aiming the pinecone straight at Blackstar’s giant white frame. “StarClan guided you to the—do not search for me! Come no closer, or I will leave.” Blackstar flattened his ears. “Show yourself, then, if I cannot seek you.” Littlecloud said something, and the leader added, “If it is the will of StarClan, then I will not approach, but if you are here, you must have some business. Tell me what it is; what could you possibly want now?” “You have turned your back,” Tigerpaw roared. The pinecone tumbled from Lionstorm’s jaws as he realized how much he looked and sounded like a tiny Tigerstar. “ShadowClan has broken from the code. It does not do for a Clan to die like that, like the strongest warrior of the forest dying of nothing greater than whitecough.” The pinecone had missed Blackstar, but he had noticed it clatter to the ground beside him. “What do you want from me, then?” “The safety of my Clan. That is right—it is I, Raggedstar. The last great leader of ShadowClan after all? Come no further!” he ordered sharply. “I will not leave you alone or reveal myself until you return my Clan to glory. You’ve led us just fine for seasons of following our wisdom, and you can’t just suddenly decide that the word of some loner means more than that.” Blackstar had stopped trying to locate ‘Raggedstar’ entirely. His attention was suddenly focused elsewhere: the lake. Lionstorm followed his gaze and nearly fell from the tree after his cone. Great StarClan! he thought, which made him fear for his balance again as a ridiculous snort tried to force its way out his nose. For it was great StarClan. Two cats had appeared on the water, one brown and one gray-and-white. Lionstorm didn’t recognize either of them, but their pelts shimmered with stars, and he could see the full moon in their eyes. “He’s right, Blackstar,” the spotted tom rasped. He sneezed and licked furiously at his muzzle. “Without StarClan’s guidance the Clans would never have become what they are.” “Breeding centers for war and animosity,” Blackstar growled, but his tail drooped. “What am I to do?” “Restore the warrior code,” the brown cat commanded. “How can there be four Clans if there are not to be three?” The two gleaming cats vanished. Blackstar stood staring for longer than Lionstorm would have liked, but finally the ShadowClan leader nodded and planted his paws resolutely in the sand. Lionstorm couldn’t hear what he said, but he had a feeling ShadowClan would be back soon. CHAPTER SIXTY-NINEHOLLYHEARTThistlepaw enthusiastically pelted away through the grass. Hollyheart chuckled, shaking her head. As long as she stayed away from tunnel entrances, Thistlepaw’s energy never seemed to run out, and Hollyheart silently thanked Weaselfur again for his stringent running lessons. I’ve waited long enough. Hollyheart charged after her apprentice, suddenly worried that she might have gone too close to the horseplace. Haven’t I told her seven times not to go near the fence? But she’s so scatterbrained.A strange feeling made her stop. I’m being watched. She scanned the moor’s horizon. Tiny moving specks showed her where her Clanmates patrolled, but no cat was close enough that they would bother watching her. “You’re WindClan, aren’t you.” The voice was accusing, and she whipped around, spotting the cat immediately. They looked well-fed and soft-furred. “Yes,” she meowed warily, taking a few paces back and assuming a defensive posture. “Why do you care?” The gray-and-white cat narrowed their eyes. Hollyheart waited, but they didn’t look like they planned to speak, so she added, “You’re one of those horseplace cats, aren’t you.” Amusement flickered across the cat’s hostile features. “Yes, and why do you care?” “I don’t, really; why are you watching me?” His green eyes clouded. “Well, it’s.” She waited. That wasn’t a full sentence, she wanted to tell him, but he probably wouldn’t say anything at all if she was rude, so she said, “What’s your name?” “Mousepaw.” Defiance flashed in his gaze. “I should be a warrior, and it’s your Clan’s fault I’m not.” Hollyheart gasped. “You’re a ThunderClan cat?” He nodded coolly, curling his tail around the horizontal wooden bar where he sat. “I was once.” “So you can tell me what happened, then.” Mousepaw looked uncomfortable. “I’m really not sure how much there is to tell. I was only a kit.” He can’t be much older than I am. Horror flooded through Hollyheart. Hadn’t one of the medicine cats said they’d chased ThunderClan off last leafbare? Seeing Mousepaw finally drove home what this meant. My own Clanmates. My own living Clanmates, my mentor, my parents, Harespring’s parents, all of them did this. Had even Leafpool joined the fight? But they had said it was an accident. They hadn’t meant to chase ThunderClan away. “I don’t think any cat meant to get rid of them.” Mousepaw narrowed his eyes. “Daisy says that Onestar was angry because cats thought he would be too soft on Firestar.” “Well, ThunderClan is alive,” she meowed, climbing up the nearest fencepost. The wood splintered in her claws, stabbing at her pawpads. “They went to the mountains.” Mousepaw’s gaze locked with hers. He made her a little uneasy. “You met them,” he said flatly. “Yes, I met—well, I met a few of them. We fought on their side to protect the Tribe of Rushing Water. They’re going to travel back here when they’re strong enough.” Mousepaw’s intensity did not change. “Won’t Onestar drive them off again?” “I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Hollyheart promised. “And what makes you think you can control him? Thornstar couldn’t.” Mousepaw stood up, neat little white paws all in a line along the fence slat. Hollyheart hesitated. Should I tell him? “StarClan’s chosen me to bring ThunderClan back,” she confessed. Mousepaw didn’t look impressed. “Sometimes a thorn is just a thorn,” he rumbled. “That’s what Daisy always says.” “It’s a storm, not a thorn,” she corrected him. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter which one it is.” “Do you want to join WindClan? You could be a warrior and help us get them back.” Hollyheart burst out. Quit acting like Lionstorm! she admonished herself. It would be just like him to invite this stray into their ranks. Mousepaw stared at her in disbelief, then turned and walked away without answering. CHAPTER SEVENTYLIONSTORMThe rough bark scratched between Lionstorm’s toes. It was soothing, in a way. Claws wouldn’t leave a mark, but the old fallen tree let him dig his feet into soft wood and let him feel the texture of the layers. The long shadows of the cats crossing the lake were eerily distorted in the rippling water, and Lionstorm’s fur ruffled. He hopped down and padded into the clearing. Onestar scaled the tree, and Lionstorm twitched his whiskers, silently critiquing how slowly the WindClan leader climbed. This was when Ivytail or Snaketail should have called him over to join them, but he noted worriedly that ShadowClan wasn’t there. Tawnypelt, Rowanclaw, Ivytail, and the three apprentices had returned home. Did they make it? RiverClan had brought very few warriors. Hawkstar knocked aside the WindClan cats in his path and clambered up the tree to perch on the branch. Lionstorm recognized Dawnflower, Minnowtail, and Pouncetail. None of the cats he had really been friendly with were there; he supposed he was not on bad terms with Mothwing or Willowshine, but only because they were medicine cats. Hollyheart led Thistlepaw to sit with Willowshine, and Lionstorm pointed his muzzle in their direction. “Want to sit with your sister?” he asked Swallowpaw. She nodded and stayed close to his side. He strode past Minnowtail, taking care not to look at her, and settled down near the medicine cats, tucking his paws underneath his chest. “That’s Swallowpaw,” Hollyheart added, beckoning the little gray cat with her tail. “Lionstorm is training her.” “I’m going to be a tough warrior,” Swallowpaw warned Willowshine nervously. Kestrelflight thumped his tail on the ground. “Aren’t you joking? You’re already the fiercest, aren’t you? Swallowstar and her reign of glory.” Swallowpaw and Thistlepaw giggled. Thistlepaw pounced on her sister. Lionstorm knew they were just playing, but Hollyheart fit a paw between the two apprentices and separated them, hissing, “That doesn’t look good at a Gathering.” Thistlepaw started to complain, but Gorsetail whispered, “She’s right.” Beechfur nodded. Hawkstar glowered down from the tree. Lionstorm had to wonder how RiverClan had allowed him to become leader—but then, he reminded himself, he had heard of terrible leaders before. They defeated Brokenstar and Tigerstar only by killing them. It would be easy—far easier than it should—for me to climb that tree and kill Hawkstar right here and now.“Put your claws away. We aren’t fighting,” Hollyheart hissed urgently. Shocked at the fear in her eyes, Lionstorm obeyed. I didn’t mean to do that! Probably it would not do much good to explain that it was a reflex. “RiverClan has been hunting well. We have a new warrior, Dapplenose, and three new apprentices, Mallowpaw, Nettlepaw, and Sneezepaw.” Amidst the chanting, Lionstorm heard Swallowpaw whisper to Thistlepaw that she would not like to have been named Sneezepaw. He twitched his tail in amusement. Hollyheart reprimanded the apprentices again. Onestar announced Thistlepaw, Sedgepaw, and Swallowpaw, and this time the apprentices sat up straight and stared at the clearing. Gloom settled over Lionstorm’s heart as he thought again of the ShadowClan cats who would not have their advancements broadcast to the Clans. Or advance at all.Hawkstar and Onestar lapsed into an uneasy silence. There was certainly something to be said for the intimidating tom up on the tree, but Lionstorm still had to fight the urge to attack. The two leaders were the first to notice something at the back of the clearing. Lionstorm turned as everyone stared, and relief swept through him. Blackstar and Russetfur strolled through the crowd. They moved stiffly, shamefully, but they held their heads high. Littlecloud led Flamepaw to where Mothwing and Barkface sat. “I’m going to be a medicine cat,” Flamepaw bragged. “That’s a good choice,” Kestrelflight meowed, dipping his head. Barkface meowed, “It is good to see you back. If I may ask, what is it that swayed Blackstar’s decision?” Littlecloud’s eyes widened. Lionstorm laid his muzzle flat on the ground, pointing away from the medicine cat, as he explained that Raggedstar and Runningnose had appeared on the lake. When he chanced a glance back, he saw Flamepaw looking a bit guilty. He’s kind of transparent for a ShadowClan cat—maybe medicine cat was a good fit.Blackstar scanned the three Clans for a long moment before speaking. “ShadowClan would like to report that we have driven off the loner Sol; we heard WindClan had some difficulty with him as well.” Blackstar announced that Ivytail, Owlclaw, and Scorchfur had been made warriors. They had a whole slew of new apprentices, too—Olivepaw, Shrewpaw, Redpaw, and Tawnypelt’s kits. At the mention of Tigerpaw’s name, Lionstorm heard several noises of surprise and a low, distressed murmur from the crowd. He turned to glare at the other cats, but Hawkstar beat him to it. “I am sure Tigerpaw will not follow in his grandfather’s footsteps, or his uncle’s,” Hawkstar growled. “Blood is no guarantee of character.” Lionstorm’s pelt prickled. Blood? Hawkstar looked awfully like Tigerstar, didn’t he? There was a sleek roundness to Hawkstar that Tigerstar’s bushy coat did not have, but the shape of his muzzle was virtually identical, and this made Lionstorm uncomfortable. He can’t be.Blackstar lifted his tail, silencing everyone. “The echoes of what Tigerstar did may never fade, but we must move on.” “It’s good to have ShadowClan back,” Onestar meowed. “See to it that you remain.” The Gathering was over. |
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:40:04 GMT -5
 CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE JAYFEATHER“Jay’s Wing! It is you!”Jayfeather stumbled forward, stubbing his paws against the ground. “No,” he croaked, shocked at how weak his voice sounded. “Congratulations,” someone else mewed. He blinked in the dazzling sunlight. Am I dreaming?“Oh, Jay’s Wing, you’re a sharpclaw now!” A white she-cat bounded toward him. “We were so worried. You took a long time down there.” Half Moon, is that you?“You’re just lucky,” a ginger-and-white queen yowled. “Have you forgotten Fallen Leaves so quickly?” I’ll never forget Fallen Leaves, Jayfeather thought. The silent tomcat had led him deep into the tunnels; his eyes had been pleading, and he had reached out to beg Jayfeather to stay with him. He had emerged to this. “Come on, Broken Shadow,” soothed a small gray-and-white cat, belly heavy with kits. “I think you need to rest; let’s find a nice patch of sunshine.” Broken Shadow wailed for Rising Moon to listen, but the queen guided her away, whispering words of comfort. “I wish our mother could see you now,” the cat meowed sadly. “Do not worry, Jay’s Wing, Dove’s wing, Falcon Swoop can see you,” a silver cat reassured her. “You know how much she adored you in life. I am certain that wherever she is, she looks upon you still.” There’s been some mistake. This isn’t Jay’s Wing, he wanted to tell them, but curiosity kept him from telling them this. She looks so much like Half Moon. He had seen the fading white cat only twice, but both times she had mistaken him for Jay’s Wing, and now here she was, fully corporeal. “How did the tunnels go? What did Rock say?” Dove’s Wing pressed. “Rock!” Jayfeather cried, feeling his tail fur bristle. A dark ginger tabby loomed over them. “Do not forget that a sharpclaw can never reveal what happens in the caverns. That is a secret to be kept for life.” “It’s okay, Furled Bracken.” Dove’s Wing curled her tail protectively around Jayfeather’s neck. He shrugged out from under it. “Jay’s Wing won’t really tell me anything.” “We were very worried when you didn’t emerge by the first sunrise,” the silver tabby confessed. “The first sunrise?” “Of course, you would not be able to tell time while underground. You were beneath the earth for two sunrises. We thought you had been lost.” “Like Fallen Leaves,” a hefty dark gray tabby added bleakly. “We waited a whole moon cycle of sunrises for him. He never returned.” “Oh,” Jayfeather said softly. Only a moon ago. I’m in the past. He padded away to think, but Furled Bracken followed him. Staring out at the lake, he noticed Twolegs and monsters clamoring around a mound of earth. Their monsters bit at the ground and lifted piles of earth up on their long, skinny necks, savoring each bite. “They move the earth still,” Furled Bracken said worriedly. “Chasing Clouds and I went down there to check it out, but we still don’t know what they’re doing.” “Building nests,” Jayfeather replied automatically. I shouldn’t have told them that!“How do you know that?” Furled Bracken leaned away, regarding him suspiciously. “I don’t know,” Jayfeather said hastily. “I just figure they must be like badgers or foxes, digging nests for themselves, only Twolegs can’t see so well under the ground.” “What are you doing still standing here?” Dove’s Wing’s voice chided. “You must be exhausted, and after all that walking your pawpads’ve got to be horrible. Half Moon’s got your nest all ready.” It is her, then. Jayfeather knew better than to protest. “Are we going to camp?” “What do you mean?” she mewed quizzically. “Are you feeling okay?” “Uh, yes.” He followed silently. He returned to find a nest that had his own scent in it, and he was too amazed to complain. He licked off his pawpads, hoping no cat would notice that although they were hard from moons of being a tunneler, they were strong rather than cracked. Rising Moon rubbed dock leaves on his paws. “You can rub your feet again later, but you’d better sleep now.” Rising Moon left him in the nest, and he drifted off to sleep, telling himself he would investigate much better after a rest. CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO JAYFEATHERDove’s Wing woke him with the scent of mouse. “Thanks,” he mewed, biting into it. “I don’t know why Furled Bracken won’t let us go into the tunnels,” a young brown tabby muttered. “If Jay’s Wing can do it, so can we.” “Shut up, Fish Leap. Furled Bracken will let us go when he thinks we’re ready,” Half Moon said primly. “Jay’s Wing was just ready sooner than us.” So they’re all apprentices. If that’s what they’re called. What had Furled Bracken called him? A sharpclaw? “Well, you’d better tell us all about it,” Fish Leap grumbled. “I can’t. You heard what Furled Bracken said. It’s a secret.” “You just think you’re better than us.” Half Moon whirled on him. “No, he’s following orders from our leader.” Jayfeather wasn’t sure how to defend himself. He was probably their equivalent of a warrior, but he didn’t want to scare them with his cluelessness. A cat named Dawn River showed up to take him hunting anyway. She and Chasing Clouds didn’t speak much, which was a welcome relief but also provided no information on where he could possibly be. They warned him fiercely to stay out of part of the forest; apparently there were many badgers there. Fish Leap mocked him when he crashed into a tree, asking if he planned to bring it home for Rising Moon’s kits to eat, but he managed to catch a mouse, which he thought was impressive enough for someone who had never hunted in a forest full of trees. Jayfeather explored this strange ancient world for a few days. The tunnel openings all felt hostile, but he hunted and mock-battled with the other cats, wondering how he had gotten here and what he was supposed to do. He was sure he was supposed to get the cats out of the forest somehow, but what could a young sharpclaw do to get them out of their home? A few dawns later he shared a blackbird with Half Moon, and as she told him a melodramatic tale of her adventures during Jay’s Wing’s two days in the tunnels, a plan unfolded in his mind. “Half Moon,” he began, making sure to sound hesitant, “I think I had a premonition during—you know when.” She giggled. “You’re not usually so superstitious.” “I’m serious.” He looked her dead in the eye. “I saw a half-faded cat. They said their name was Black Feather and they had to show me the future. The long-necked monsters are going to tear up all the land around the lake, and what little forest there is will be overrun by badgers. It will be uninhabitable. But there is another place—you know the mountains off on the horizon? Black Feather took me there, and they’re wonderful. There’s a special cave waiting there just for us, and there are huge birds that a cat can just pick out of the sky. We can either travel there or all die.” Half Moon’s eyes were as big as boulders now. “Running Horse says he had a dream about the mountains once. They didn’t sound as nice as all that, but he only barely remembered it.” “Yes; Black Feather mentioned Running Horse,” Jayfeather cried. Half Moon scrambled to her paws and fetched Furled Bracken and Stone Song. Jayfeather repeated his ‘dream,’ expanding on some of the points to make it more convincing. Stone Song said something about Running Horse and mentioned a cat named Quail Tuft who had apparently had prophetic dreams many seasons before. Even Quail Tuft had never mentioned being visited, but Jayfeather told Stone Song firmly that if he believed wholeheartedly in Black Feather and all the other fallen ancestors they would guide him. Furled Bracken sent Dawn River and a huge black tom named Dark Whiskers to gather everyone. They collected in the clearing. Jayfeather gritted his teeth and told the story a third time, and an old brown cat who must have been Running Horse perked up excitedly. “I think it is time to follow the instructions Black Feather has delivered us,” Stone Song announced, his voice ringing through the trees. “We shall depart tonight.” “Have you forgotten the stones?” someone hissed. “We must cast the stones.” “Do not worry, Shy Fawn. We have the stones.” Stone Song motioned to Chasing Clouds, who scooped several pawsful of a pile of pebbles from the ferns nearby. Grabbing a fallen branch in his jaws, Furled Bracken carved two gashes in the ground about a taillength apart from each other. Stone Song explained, “Put a pebble along the mark closer to me if you wish to go to the mountains; put a pebble along the mark closer to Furled Bracken if you wish to stay. “And,” he mewed with a wry stare at Shy Fawn, “is it not interesting that we are once again linked to stones? They make our decisions for us; have we any reason not to live among them, to feed from the sky, to dwell within their depths?” What sort of way is this to run a Clan?Furled Bracken laid his tail across Jayfeather’s chest. “You are the newest sharpclaw. You vote last.” When it came Jayfeather’s turn, the two lines of stones were equal. Swallowing a lump that felt like the pebble beneath his paw, he pushed his into the line closer to Stone Song. They have to become the Tribe of Rushing Water.“No,” wailed Broken Shadow. “No, I didn’t mean it, Fallen Leaves, no!” “Remember your ancestors and your kits,” Jayfeather meowed, “but also remember that they are gone. The best thing you can do for Fallen Leaves is to honor his memory and keep yourself safe.” “We go,” Stone Song called. “Thank you, Jay’s Wing, for sharing.” Early the next morning Jayfeather went hunting. They would leave that sunhigh, though they apparently called it midsun. He pounced at a thrush, but as he landed, the forest around him dissolved into blackness. CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE LIONSTORMThe sky had begun to darken, so when Swallowpaw excitedly brought him a mouse she had caught, he ordered her back to camp. “You need a good night’s rest.” “I have to get the prey I buried,” she protested. Her mew was nearly drowned out by a roll of thunder. Lionstorm glanced up at the sky again. The clouds roiled in the twilight, and he said firmly, “No, you go back to camp. I’ll get your prey for you.” She looked unconvinced until he added, “I won’t take any credit for your catch.” Swallowpaw picked up the mouse again and pattered away through the forest. He thought about following her back most of the way to camp, but he didn’t want to be trapped in the storm any longer than he had to. Her scent was easy enough to follow. He tracked it all the way to where she had buried her kills and dug them up. He would have to tell Swallowpaw next time not to pack the earth down so hard on the food; it clung to the fur and feathers. An earsplitting thunderclap cracked the air, and Lionstorm flinched, dropping the prey. He gathered it all back up. The newleaf breeze was warm and fierce, and it tugged at his pelt as if to drag him away. Lightning flashed before him, and Lionstorm gave an involuntary squeal. Flames burst from the bushes. Mouse dung.Lionstorm turned and dashed in another direction. What do we do if we can’t go in the forest? He skidded to a stop as the dry brush in his path caught alight too. That’s not good.He pelted through the forest, vaguely aware of another cat’s presence. Follow me, and you’ll get out, he wanted to say, but he was pretty sure the cat was doing so anyway. Smoke billowed around Lionstorm, and soot swirled up into his face with each pawstep. His eyes streamed, and he longed to close them, to drive his head underwater and clear them out, but he could do nothing but run. Until he saw the other cat. Somehow ahead of him, the cat emerged from the fire. Flames licked up his starry ginger pelt, and his fur whipped in the wind. He regarded Lionstorm appraisingly, then lost his form, becoming part of the fire. Lionstorm remembered where he was and charged through the flame, ignoring the scorching hot grass on his pawpads. He barreled out of the blazing woods and stumbled into the Moonpool stream. Sheets of rain cascaded into his eyes. Usually he would have cursed the skies for this, but now he was grateful as it hissed against his pelt and washed the ash from him. Eyes still burning, Lionstorm tottered back to camp with the singed freshkill in his jaws. He dropped it on the pile, only realizing how taut his jaw had been when he saw the bloodied mess everywhere he had held the prey. “Lionstorm, you’re okay,” Hollyheart cried, bounding up to him. “Swallowpaw said you were still in the forest, and we could see the fire, but Ashfoot wouldn’t let us search for you.” “Is she here?” Lionstorm peered around the camp, but most of the warriors had retreated into the badger setts to escape the pouring rain. “I think she’s trying to find a safe way to get you herself,” Hollyheart mewed, but Ashfoot was returning to camp already. Even in the starless night Lionstorm saw her relief upon noticing him. “Did Poppystream make it back with you?” she croaked. Fear flooded through him. “Poppystream was there?” Ashfoot’s spine sagged. “Poppystream was hunting in the woods with Harespring, Nightcloud, and Sedgepaw,” she murmured. “The other three made it back.” Narrowing her eyes against the rain, she called a few warriors out of a sett and led them away to search once more. “Lionstorm… are you okay?” his sister ventured cautiously. “Yeah,” he wheezed, coughing. The smoke had scratched his lungs. “Why?” “You look like something spooked you very badly.” He thought of the fire cat and shuddered. “I was just afraid of burning to death.” “You’re safe now.” Hollyheart put her tail on his shoulder and led him to Barkface’s den. The medicine cat gave him honey to eat; it soothed his throat and calmed the knot in his stomach. He slept uneasily that night; his first dream was of suffocating in infinite darkness, and by the time he saw Tigerstar, his nerves were rattled once more. He knew better than to tell Tigerstar about the cat in the forest so soon after it had happened. Seeing the dark tabby did remind him of a name, though. Firestar. Was that who he had seen in the fire? It’s me in the prophecy. It really is me. CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR CROWFEATHERCrowfeather had been shaken since the trip to the mountains. He had avoided the ThunderClan cats as best he could, although he had seen a couple—mostly Squirrelflight—giving him death glares. Even the Tribe cats had been chilly to him. Frankly it was a miracle that ThunderClan had listened to WindClan at all. Apparently Eaglestep and Owlwhisker had denounced everything Onestar had done and promised that if ThunderClan ever returned they would do whatever they could to ensure the lost Clan could have their forest back. But now Eaglestep was dead and ThunderClan’s forest charred to bits. The forest would recover, and there would be other warriors on board with helping ThunderClan, but they would have quite a difficult time. All this ran through Crowfeather’s mind as he waited outside the nursery. His sister Tawnyfur was too old to kit, yet there she was. He did not miss Nightcloud’s fury from across the camp. You couldn’t bother to be at Breezepelt’s warrior ceremony, but you can hover around your sister’s kits?Barkface sent him to the medicine den to get chamomile. Crowfeather was just familiar enough with the herb to find it; Emberfoot watched through heavily lidded eyes as Crowfeather stepped around his nest. The gray warrior’s wounds reeked of infection, but Crowfeather knew there was nothing he could do that Barkface hadn’t already tried. Tawnyfur stopped trying to scream around the stick Crowfeather had found for her. He pushed his head into the den. Four kits lay on the ground, and Crowfeather had to back out. They were too small, too slimy. Kestrelflight scurried into the nursery with a bundle of herbs. Crowfeather heard him chattering about how strong and healthy the kits were. Beside him Webfoot waited anxiously, kneading the straggly grass with his claws. “You think they’re as healthy as he says?” “Kestrelflight is a very competent medicine cat, and they’ve got Barkface, too,” Crowfeather assured him, trying not to gag at the image of the kits. He had waited longer to look at Leafpool’s kits and even longer for Nightcloud’s. I thought Nightcloud’s kits were healthy at first, he remembered, alarmed. Webfoot craned his neck to look through the nursery entrance. “They’re good,” he breathed with relief. “And Tawnyfur’s okay?” Losing Eaglestep had made Crowfeather more worried about his sister than he ever had been, especially since her bones were getting weaker. Webfoot nodded. Crowfeather rose to his paws and padded away as the tabby squeezed all the way into the den. Breezepelt padded in proudly from a hunting patrol carrying a rabbit. Crowfeather saw the look in his son’s eyes—he demanded his father’s approval. Well, he doesn’t get any special thanks for doing what he’s supposed to do, Crowfeather thought, irritated. Hollyheart, Harespring, Lionstorm, and their apprentices returned to camp close behind the hunting patrol. Crowfeather dipped his head toward the mentors and went off to hunt on his own. When he returned to camp, Nightcloud greeted him with a cold “Tawnyfur wants you.” He obediently went to see his sister. She showed him her kits, whose fur was dry now and had been licked up to warm them. Newleaf was a safe enough time for kits, of course, but there was always a danger that newborns would freeze. She introduced them as Icekit, Cloudkit, Dawnkit, and Graykit. “Those are good names,” he offered, remembering that he had wanted to name one of his own kits Cloudkit. He padded out of the den, exchanging dips of the head with Barkface, and considered hunting again, but now that he had no apprentice everything was just routine. He would have thought with so many warriors in the Clan that he’d have more company, but everyone else was occupied with their own lives instead. Crowfeather hunted near the horseplace, ignoring the accusing glares of the loners who lived there. None of them dared approach. After a while he made a game out of scaring them. Feathertail had once scolded him for doing the very same thing to a flock of starlings. The thought pulled him up short, but he managed to chuckle and continue. If he hadn’t spent so much time scaring the hostile barn cats, he might have returned with a more plentiful catch, but prey had been increasing anyway. He told Leafpool all about Tawnyfur’s kits, commenting on Cloudkit’s name in particular, but it turned out she had already met them. “I used to be a medicine cat, you know,” she reminded him sadly. “I’m sorry about your forest.” This wasn’t the first time he had apologized, but she had seemed distraught since the fire. Leafpool was the first cat he had told about Eaglestep’s promise, and that had lifted her mood just a bit; now she thought she had nothing left to hope for. “It’s not that.” She looked exhausted, he decided. “It’s Emberfoot. He’s dead.” Crowfeather blinked, not sure what to say. “It’s not your fault.” She sighed and rested her head on her forepaws. He licked her ear. “It really isn’t.” He would mourn Emberfoot as well as Poppystream, but for now he contented himself with the thought that WindClan would be strong. Tawnyfur’s kits were proof of that, and Gorsetail’s second litter would be apprentices soon. ShadowClan was back, RiverClan had a strong new leader, and there was nothing to worry about. CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE HOLLYHEARTSomething was wrong. Hollyheart didn’t know for sure what it was, but her pelt prickled uncomfortably. Maybe precognition was her power. It would complete the power of StarClan, wouldn’t it? They could turn a battle to one side’s favor and know the heart of every cat. It wasn’t so farfetched that her own ability would be prophecy. Boulderkit, Furzekit, and Whiskerkit had turned six moons old a few days ago, and Onestar had spoken to some of his warriors this morning; it was not hard to guess that the ceremony would be today. Hollyheart almost wished a warrior could train two apprentices at once, but Thistlepaw was a pawful on her own. Tawnyfur’s kits were excited too. Graykit was sure that they would be made apprentices today. “I’m strong enough,” he boasted. “Are not!” Icekit pounced, biting at her brother’s pelt. Dawnkit tried to join the fight, but both of her siblings turned on her. She called for help, but Cloudkit just stared at the sky, hardly noticing anything. Sure enough, Onestar yowled, “Let all cats six moons on join before the Tallrock for a Clan meeting!” First Onestar made Brackentail and Dewspeckle warriors, and Hollyheart thought he sounded relieved not to have to listen to Dewspeckle’s stories anymore. Onestar assigned Breezepelt to mentor Boulderpaw, Owlwhisker Whiskerpaw, and Heathertail Furzepaw. He justified this saying Boulderpaw needed to fight fiercely, Whiskerpaw needed to learn responsibility, and Furzepaw needed to be more courageous, but Hollyheart didn’t think giving Breezepelt an apprentice was a good idea. He shot Crowfeather a sour look, and Hollyheart sighed. He’ll never change.“I told you,” she heard Icekit squeal, and Hollyheart turned to see the white kit pounce on her brother again. He kicked at her. Hollyheart rolled her eyes, but she had a feeling that the worry that had settled on her heart had something to do with these kits. Sunpaw, whose new mentor was Ashfoot, came to watch the kits play, joining in when she saw an open spot. Tawnyfur’s blue eyes sparkled. “It had to be four, didn’t it,” she mewed brightly to Hollyheart. Webfoot padded up, stiff joints popping audibly. “Cloudkit, this is Hollyheart. She is Crowfeather’s daughter.” “I do not like crows,” Cloudkit replied distantly. Webfoot touched his nose to his kit’s ear. “No cat likes crow so much, but you remember Crowfeather, don’t you?” “Oh, yes.” Cloudkit blinked. Hollyheart purred, then realized it was sunhigh. “I have to go train Thistlepaw,” she said apologetically. She met up with Harespring and Sedgepaw. Hollyheart rubbed her muzzle on Harespring’s shoulder and suggested, “Maybe we should show them the overshooting-and-waiting move.” Harespring nodded. “Where d’you think we should train?” “The sandy hollow.” Hollyheart brushed her tail against Harespring and led the way to the training spot. The forest air still hung heavy with soot, and cinders crunched beneath the four cats’ paws, but newleaf had brought enough birds that a few chirped even now. The two mentors taught a relatively simple move now; Hollyheart remembered executing it in the mountains. Harespring ordered the two apprentices to stand about a taillength behind him, one on each side. Hollyheart pounced, deliberately leaping too high. Harespring ducked, and Hollyheart landed between the apprentices. “Now is when you would attack me,” she explained. “I would be surprised at missing my target, and my legs would probably hurt from landing.” Thistlepaw shoved her head into Hollyheart’s flank, then bounced backward. “Like that?” “Well, that and your claws, yes.” Hollyheart assumed a position as if she had just landed and didn’t know she could be attacked. “You see how I have weak spots just behind my forelegs? Those make easy targets.” Sedgepaw obediently slapped a paw at Hollyheart’s side. “Nice hit,” Harespring meowed. Hollyheart turned and saw his green eyes twinkling. “She’s distracted; get her.” Sedgepaw and Thistlepaw leapt onto her pelt, and suddenly the battle was three-on-one as Harespring joined in. They didn’t have all that much trouble pinning her down together, and Harespring congratulated the apprentices. Once they returned to camp, however, Hollyheart’s feeling of dread returned. Somehow she doubted that this was truly a power of prediction. Those kits are my kin. Could they be Firestar’s kin, too? CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX JAYFEATHERThe air aboveground was much drier than the air in the tunnels. Jayfeather was grateful for the lack of recent rain. There had been rain only twice since the fire. He carried his rabbit to the freshkill pile, where he sat down to wash his paws. “Hey, Jayfeather.” Kestrelflight’s pelt pressed against his. “Nice rabbit.” Jayfeather thanked Kestrelflight. Barkface called his apprentice away; apparently Tornear had caught whitecough that threatened to worsen to greencough. WindClan had a bountiful patch of catmint, though, so no cat was very worried. Boulderpaw dropped a mouse on the pile, and Breezepelt said something about it being scrawny. Jayfeather sighed heavily, prompting Breezepelt to hiss, “This doesn’t concern you!” He had been putting off speaking to Leafpool for a long time. He didn’t want any cat to know he had visited the past; only Lionstorm and Hollyheart would believe him. Maybe Kestrelflight, who believed every word from Jayfeather’s mouth, or Harespring, now that he knew there was some prophecy, but Jayfeather didn’t want to involve any cat outside of the Three. For the same reason, Jayfeather had told no one of his visions. His siblings knew that he could see in dreams and read their memories, but he had told them nothing beyond the prophecy itself. Lionstorm had come to camp after the fire having seen a ghostly cat, and Jayfeather was certain it was Firestar. Now was the time. Jayfeather dragged himself toward the elders. Rushtail had died while Jayfeather’s siblings had been in the mountains, and Jayfeather didn’t mourn his loss at all. The death of a Clanmate had bothered him a little, but the snappy elder had never been so much as polite to Leafpool’s kits. He heard a rattling breathing from the sleeping Morningflower; Webfoot was off somewhere with Tawnyfur and the kits. He could talk to Leafpool alone. She greeted him as sappily as always, but searching her mind, he found mountains and images of Crowfeather—and cats he did not know at all. The most prominent seemed to be a dark ginger she-cat. He had seen her in Leafpool’s thoughts before, and the two were definitely close, but the images of her were always in the forest, never on the moor. He padded down into the closest badger sett, beckoning Leafpool down with his muzzle. Once she sat near him, puzzled, he whispered, “I need to know about ThunderClan.” Horror flared from her pelt, and he caught a broken image of a dead ginger tom, blood gushing from beneath a tight silvery tendril coiled around his neck. “I—ThunderClan is gone. They cannot return with the forest in this state.” Unbearable sadness flowed from her in waves. “I wish I could set things right, but I cannot leave the camp.” “What really happened?” he demanded, doing his best to keep quiet. “Hollyheart met a cat who told her that Firestar was a ThunderClan cat.” She hadn’t said quite that, but he thought it was safe enough to assume, especially since the elders had been so defensive before. Leafpool drew a long breath. “Jayfeather, how do you know who Firestar is?” “I’ve spoken to StarClan.” This was not untrue, although Spottedleaf had said very little about Firestar. “Firestar is my kin, isn’t he?” “Do you promise not to tell any cat?” Leafpool whispered. Memories of a different forest, of becoming an apprentice for the first time, of seeing Firestar up on a rock, of following her fluffy gray mentor down winding trails, filled her mind. Jayfeather flattened his ears. Her mind would tell him nothing; he would have to trust her words. “I can keep a secret.” Leafpool took a few breaths to steady herself. “Firestar was my father.” My kin! Jayfeather thought, the confirmation running through his spine like flames. “What happened to ThunderClan, then?” “I was a medicine cat.” He heard her swallow. “I was the ThunderClan medicine cat, and Firestar was the leader. My sister’s mate was the deputy. We thought everything was fine.” Jayfeather waited patiently; she flopped her tail around the floor, agitated. “Onestar and Firestar were best friends. Not quite best—there was Graystripe—but the Twolegs carried Graystripe away, and no cat has seen him since. When we arrived at the lake, Onestar was not the WindClan deputy yet. Not until Tallstar died. His last action in life was to demote Mudclaw and make Onestar leader in his place. “Firestar fought on Onestar’s side. Mudclaw died when a bolt of lightning knocked a tree onto him. But many cats had thought Onestar’s claim to leadership was unfair. Mudclaw had his fair share of supporters. They thought Onestar and Firestar’s friendship would make WindClan weak. “Onestar thought the only way to look powerful was to show everyone that he could fight against Firestar. He was too concerned with being a strong leader, never a good one. I don’t know if he originally intended to drive ThunderClan away for good, but he fought us viciously.” “And he killed Firestar and took his territory,” Jayfeather interrupted. “Onestar didn’t kill Firestar. That was Bramblestar. ThunderClan lost all hope of leadership. Thornstar did his best, but Onestar saw Firestar’s death as an opportunity to use our territory. When my sister and I snuck away so that I could have my kits and pretend they were hers, Crowfeather chased her to the mountains and begged Onestar to let me raise you here. “I don’t want you to look badly upon your Clanmates,” she added hastily. “Most of them didn’t want to do this. Weaselfur is the only cat I know of who was not absolutely horrified at what Onestar made them do.” Jayfeather took all this in. “I am HalfClan,” he stated. He had known this was likely for some time now, but it was somehow different to have it confirmed by someone else. “Yes.” Leafpool’s nose touched his, and Jayfeather ducked away. “And that’s why cats call me thunder. And why Crowfeather has two mates. And why Onestar never liked me.” “Yes.” Jayfeather nodded, then climbed out of the sett. “Thanks,” he said unenthusiastically. Morningflower was still asleep, and Webfoot had not returned from talking to Tawnyfur. What was it Spottedleaf said? ThunderClan’s destiny is connected to mine? His paws tingled in anticipation. Soon enough he would save them. CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN JAYFEATHEROnestar’s voice sounded strained. Searching his thoughts, Jayfeather found that the leader was mostly just tired of ceremonies. WindClan’s expanded territory meant more available prey. Too bad you foxhearts had to kill for it.Jayfeather didn’t want to think badly of his Clanmates. After all, they had apparently not meant to chase ThunderClan away, and he had heard vague stories about the tyrant Bramblestar. Still, he didn’t like leaving ThunderClan to scrounge off the Tribe’s territory. The leader named Dawnpaw, Cloudpaw, Icepaw, and Graypaw. “Graypaw, your mentor will be—” Onestar fumbled. Jayfeather couldn’t blame him; WindClan had so many cats that it was difficult to keep anything straight anymore. “Nightcloud. Nightcloud, Redpaw’s untimely death and Flamepaw’s departure left you without an apprentice. I trust you to teach Graypaw your undying loyalty.” Onestar paused to think. Jayfeather could hear him going through the list of living cats in his mind. “Dewspeckle, you are a young warrior, but you have grown quickly. Teach Icepaw the value of curiosity and new experiences. “The other two will train as tunnelers. Gorsetail, you have raised kits; raise Cloudpaw to be a brave warrior. Jayfeather, your prowess in the tunnels has not gone unnoticed. Train Dawnpaw to keep a level head and to diligently serve WindClan.” Jayfeather padded through the crowd. Breezepelt’s tail got in his way, and he awkwardly stumbled forward to the front, where he touched noses with Dawnpaw. Onestar also announced Tawnyfur’s retirement and made Sunstrike a warrior, saying it was an inopportune time of day but that she could stand to be silent a little longer. “We’re going to show you the territory now,” Nightcloud meowed. “Even the tunnels?” Graypaw mewed. Jayfeather didn’t like the scorn in his voice. Gorsetail laughed. “There’s not much to show you down there. You’ll go down them once or twice, but there’s really no point in taking you down on your first day of training. Even tunnelers.” Jayfeather plodded behind Gorsetail, wishing he didn’t have to go on the tour. I can’t even see any of it. Dawnpaw bounced along by his side. Dewspeckle had not changed. He animatedly told the new apprentices all about the time he and Onestar had found a fox near a cluster of gorse bushes, the time he had discovered a nest of baby rabbits next to the catmint patch, and the time a hawk had tried to carry him away. They hung on every word. Cloudpaw especially seemed fascinated. “I don’t like water,” Graypaw complained as they crossed the Moonpool stream. “You’ll learn to like it,” Jayfeather growled. Nightcloud’s tail hit at his whiskers. Not you too. Your son’s bad enough as it is.They returned to camp late. The next morning Jayfeather took Dawnpaw into the tunnels. He kept his tail straight out behind him so that Dawnpaw would have a sense of where to go; she followed obediently, whispering, “It’s very dark down here.” “Get used to it,” Jayfeather grunted. “This is where you’ll be hunting until you go to the elders’ den.” “I’m not used to not being able to see,” she protested. Jayfeather ground his teeth together, trying to think of a response that would shut her up without getting him in trouble if she told anyone how rude he had been. It seemed that the low growl emitting from his throat did the job on its own; she apologized meekly. “I just mean that it’s worse than nighttime,” she whispered. He sighed. “You have other senses. You just have to learn to use them. Your nose, ears, and whiskers will be very important down here.” She sniffed loudly, and he almost snapped at her, but he realized she was just trying to scent the air. “No, you just open your mouth,” he explained. “You need to taste as well as smell.” Her breathing got quieter again, and after a few heartbeats, she squealed, “I smell rabbit!” “Stale.” Jayfeather could feel her confusion. “How do you know that?” “Well, we are near a rabbit warren, but the scent—you’ll get a feel for it soon enough; the smell here is nearly a day old. We could probably track the rabbit down, but it would be much faster simply to find a different target.” “Oh.” Dawnpaw fell silent, and Jayfeather hoped he hadn’t made her wish she had been a moor-runner instead. If I’d been in any other Clan, I would never have been able to be a warrior, he thought. His uselessness in battle meant he would need the other mentors’ help to train her as it was. At least down here he was on equal footing. I could easily have been in another Clan. It was only because of Onestar’s spite, he realized, that he had become a WindClan cat. Maybe ThunderClan’s disappearance was what StarClan wanted after all, he decided. Horror mounted in his chest. Am I a warrior because there’s something else I need to fight? He had assumed the Three would be responsible for bringing ThunderClan back, but then why make a prophecy instead of just keeping ThunderClan at the lake? I can’t fight. I wasn’t supposed to be born blind. StarClan, what have you done? CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT HOLLYHEARTYou have it easy , she thought, staring at Harespring. You belong.Jayfeather had told her about her HalfClan heritage. The warrior code guides our entire lives. How can I follow it if I broke it by being born?Maybe she wasn’t being entirely fair, but the news had squashed her like a landslide. She wanted to talk to someone about it, but Lionstorm wouldn’t understand, Harespring might be upset, and Kestrelflight couldn’t be trusted to keep a secret. Well, why does it have to be a secret, anyway?—No, it does. I can’t…She said good night to Thistlepaw and padded over to join Harespring. He was already asleep; she pressed her pelt against his warm fur. Falling asleep was difficult, but she managed it. She opened her eyes to a dim, cold gray. She stood in a tiny clearing circled by dark, peeling birch trees, dead leaves and sheets of bark poking at her pawpads. “Hello?” she called nervously. No one answered. Slinking through the dry underbrush, Hollyheart felt the ground getting wetter. She emerged from the cover of the trees, but it was darker out here. The stream in front of her oozed with thick black water, and the sky overhead was a solid, flat black. Is it a nightmare? I don’t feel all that scared.Nearby the brook narrowed enough for her to leap over without touching a paw to the water. The mud had a strange texture, but she didn’t want to think about it. Now she could hear voices; she pressed forward until she found the cats. “I didn’t know you came here, too,” Lionstorm meowed. “I just met Antpelt. I thought I was the only one until tonight.” He turned to a big brown tabby. “Who’s been training Hollyheart?” “No one,” she answered before the strange cat could answer. She didn’t trust him; she had at first mistaken him for Hawkstar, but he had a different pelt, and his eyes were pale amber instead of blue. “What is this place?” “The Place of No Stars,” Antpelt meowed. “You’ve really never been here?” “I am sure Hollyheart will fit right in.” The tabby dipped his head. “I am the famous Tigerstar.” Hollyheart backed up, hissing and bristling. “I’ll kill you,” she snarled. “No, it’s okay,” Lionstorm reassured her. “Tigerstar didn’t do all the stuff you think.” “It’s not just him here. Wait’ll you meet Silverhawk.” Antpelt’s tail waved high in the air. “He’s almost invisible,” he whispered in awe. “Silverhawk?” Who in StarClan’s name is that? Hollyheart stared at Lionstorm. “What are you doing here?” “Learning to fight, mostly.” Lionstorm shrugged. “You come here when you don’t think you’re serving your Clan as much as you should. You’re a great warrior, really, but you’re probably upset about something.” “Antpelt, don’t you know who Tigerstar is?” Hollyheart hissed. Tigerstar sighed. “Understandable.” He told a long story Hollyheart did not believe about a friend who had turned on him. “I am training Lionstorm to help WindClan as best he can.” Hollyheart looked from Antpelt to Lionstorm. “Get yourselves killed if you want. You’re traitors; why should I care what happens to you?” “We’re not betraying anyone,” Lionstorm burst. “What, is it against the code to train for battle now? Tigerstar is sorry and he didn’t even do it in the first place. You don’t have to train if you don’t want to, but it isn’t as if we’re doing anything wrong.” She turned and stalked away into the forest, not sure where she was headed, until the sunrise woke her up. CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE JAYFEATHERMountain air bit into his pelt. Jayfeather could see, and yet this did not look quite like the Tribe of Endless Hunting. He padded along the path until a cave came into view. The water spraying out in front of it looked much less like the bright, soft water he had seen before than like the water that haunted his nightmares. He limped toward the cave, startled at how hard it was to walk on this stone. His paws slipped on barely visible patches of ice. There was no sign that any cat lived here. Jayfeather wandered around the mountains, paws numbing as he went. It was difficult to cover much ground outside of a dream when everything was so vertical. Finally he scented cats. Jayfeather followed the scent to where it got stronger and eventually looked out on a flat area with a couple of cats lying in it. They were thin, but all of them were alive. It had to be the Tribe. They’re not the Tribe yet, he reminded himself. Off to the side was a huge boulder split by a large gash. A small band of cats padded from the crevice. Half Moon! Jayfeather hopped off the ledge and walked toward them. “Jay’s Wing,” Half Moon breathed. “Half Moon.” He was startled at the rush of emotions that surged through him. I was only here a few days last time.“Where have you been all these moons?” a calico cried. She was vaguely familiar. “Lost.” Half Moon pressed her muzzle against his. “It’s good to have you back. Everything is like you said.” Jayfeather leaned against her and mewed, “That’s good. I’m glad you all found it.” “How tired are you?” a silver tabby asked. He thought he recognized her, too, but he couldn’t remember her name—Whispering Brook, maybe? “Only a little; I’m pretty well rested.” “How about you hunt with us?” Half Moon said excitedly. “All you have to do is try to catch a mouse, and—oh, just wait, I’ll catch us an eagle, you’ll see.” “Don’t be silly,” the calico mewed. “A cat can’t catch an eagle; just hope we don’t get swooped.” “Come on, Dawn River, you don’t even have to jump for the birds. You wait and see, you’ll reap the spoils of my eagles one day,” Half Moon teased. Jayfeather helped them hunt. It was difficult to catch the mice, but hunting wasn’t too different along small ledges than in tight tunnels, so he managed to get one. Half Moon praised him adoringly. She didn’t get the chance to kill an eagle, although she did leap spectacularly to scare away a hawk that got too close. “Shy Fawn is going to have her kits soon,” Half Moon told him as they carried the prey back to the cave. “Black Feather help us all when she does,” the silver tabby said under her breath. Jayfeather curled his tail guiltily at Black Feather’s name. Half Moon leaned closer to Jayfeather and whispered, “Not everyone is so happy with the mountains. I think they’re great, but, well, Dark Whiskers didn’t make it, and now that leafbare is here, we aren’t eating as well.” Jayfeather swallowed. “So what now?” “Shy Fawn can’t travel when her kits could come any moment, but when she can travel, they’re going to vote again.” Half Moon showed him to Owl Feather—he had seen this cat’s face before, but he didn’t think they’d ever been introduced. She sprawled on the ground just inside the crevice, and her ribs poked out. Three tiny kits tried to suckle from her belly and wailed when they could not get enough milk. “Is that Jay’s Wing?” she panted. “Yes. He’s come back.” “I know a better place where you can live,” Jayfeather whispered. Owl Feather’s eyes widened. “My kits.” “Yes. Your kits.” Half Moon stared at Jayfeather. “You really know a better place?” “I found it just today, right where Black Feather said it would be. There are no cats living in it, and it’s very spacious,” he promised. He repeated this news to Stone Song, and over the next day Jayfeather helped all of the future Tribe cats travel to the cave. “You are a most remarkable little seer,” Stone Song commented. Shy Fawn’s kits came not long after the move. Jayfeather wasn’t sure how exactly to help, but when a little golden tom was born unable to breathe correctly, Dawn River instructed him to lick the kit’s fur up. The kit gasped and gave a loud, piteous wail, and Shy Fawn named him Lion’s Roar. Lion’s Roar. Jay’s Wing. He padded out of the cave unsure what to do with himself. She called the other kits Hawk Shadow and Shade Pelt, not Holly anything. “Jay’s Wing, are you okay?” Half Moon whispered. “You have to leave again, don’t you?” “Probably.” He curled his tail around his paws and looked away. “I love you, Jay’s Wing.” Jayfeather jerked his head up and stared at her. “I love you too.” He didn’t think it was a lie. “Are you going to be okay if—if I have to go away again?” “I will.” The pain was unmistakable in her green eyes. “I will miss you, but one day we will be together again.” “Will we?” “Even if we never meet again in life, I know that I will see you again in the stars.” She rested her muzzle on his shoulder. “Oh. Right.” Seasons and seasons and seasons from now. “That could be…a very long time.” Her eyes glimmered with knowing sadness. “I will wait for you forever, Jay’s Wing.” CHAPTER EIGHTY HOLLYHEARTHollyheart trotted through the grass. Mousepaw had not left the bush where she had seen him before sunup. He stretched luxuriously out on the ground, but his alert gaze suggested he was not as relaxed as he looked. She didn’t offer him any prey, nor did she eat her catch. It was for the Clan. “You’re a fast hunter,” he observed. She dipped her head. “I grew up in WindClan.” “So how’s the progress on ThunderClan?” “About that.” Hollyheart took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Did you know that my mother Leafpool was a ThunderClan cat?” His eyes widened. “A medicine cat.” “Mousepaw, that’s why I’m in the prophecy. I’m kin of Firestar’s kin—Firestar of ThunderClan.” “Don’t trust the prophecies,” he grunted. “Yes, prophecies can be imagined.” Hollyheart had been so focused on her hunt and on finding Mousepaw that she had not noticed another cat’s presence. “Who are you?” she hissed. The cat was not hard to locate; they were almost identical to Mousepaw—only their spots and long, tapering tail differed from his. “Hazelpaw.” “My sister. I’ve told you about her.” “Only once.” Hollyheart stared at Hazelpaw. I’m more ThunderClan than these cats will ever be.Berrypaw arrived soon after. Hollyheart had met him once. She didn’t care for him. “I have to go train my apprentice,” she said, gathering her freshkill and padding away. Hollyheart returned to camp at about the same time as the dawn patrol. Nightcloud, Graypaw, Brackentail, Heathertail, and Furzepaw each bore fresh cuts; none were deep, but Hollyheart’s pelt still prickled with foreboding. She would have bet anything they’d been near the RiverClan border. “Hollyheart, thank StarClan you’re here,” Kestrelflight cried. “Oh, I know it won’t do any good, but please—” “What won’t?” she asked, bewildered. “It’s Thistlepaw. There’s so much blood.” His blue eyes stretched wide with fear. “Hollyheart, she’s gone.” “She can’t be.” Hollyheart charged past him, then realized she didn’t know where her apprentice even was. She turned to ask, but Kestrelflight was already heading toward the medicine den, jabbing his muzzle forward. Barkface’s bleak green eyes met her only a moment before the stench of death. “I don’t know what happened,” he whispered. He smelled afraid. “She just died?” Hollyheart peered around Barkface. Thistlepaw lay on a bed of moss, fur no longer pure white but smeared a shiny dark red. “How?” Her voice cracked, but this was not the time for embarrassment. Barkface shook his head, pressing his ears against his neck. “I do not know. I woke to others complaining of the scent of blood, and this is what I found.” He swung his muzzle toward the heap of bloody fur. “She is marred by claws.” Hollyheart forced her paws forward and sniffed at Thistlepaw. “I swear I know that scent,” she said to herself. There was something icy to it beyond the metallic blood. “Her heart had ceased beating before we were able even to move her,” Barkface sighed. “This death is not only somber and unforeseen but wholly unfathomable as well. No cat tracked any blood from her, nor did any cat have blood on their breath. No others were disturbed except by the aftermath. With no way to tell who did this, I have no way of preventing further attempts.” “She was so small.” Somehow Thistlepaw looked even smaller now that the brightness had gone from her eyes and the breath from her flanks. “StarClan took her far too soon,” Barkface agreed; “she had many, many seasons ahead of her.” Hollyheart took another breath, trying to place the scent she had found. It was not ShadowClan or RiverClan, and a hawk’s talons left gashes, not clawmarks. “Whoever did this has a big paw.” Hawkstar’s sure got some huge paws.“And leaves no trace,” Kestrelflight fretted. Hollyheart stiffened. Tigerstar. Thistlepaw had been so eager to learn, so distressed when she thought she had failed. Tigerstar killed her. “I have to go, Barkface. I have a patrol. Now.” She stumbled out of the den and followed her father out of the camp. We have to save the forest from Tigerstar. That’s what the Three are for. But then—what if I’m not one of the Three? CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE DAWNPAW Of course, Jayfeather could never see. That didn’t stop Dawnpaw from listening through his ears. They were very keen, as were his nose and whiskers. It wasn’t like she could see in the tunnels either. At the moment he was being quite boring. He had taken her through this same tunnel every day for the week since her apprentice ceremony, and his tail rested on her shoulder to guide her. Would they never move on to new places? It was not the time to watch Icepaw’s training. She took a few peeks, comforted by the whirls of green and blue as her sister practiced the hunter’s crouch. “Quit jumping; you’re going to scare off every rabbit in the lake at this rate,” Dewspeckle scolded. “I didn’t know there were many rabbits in the lake,” Icepaw chirped. Dawnpaw snickered, letting the scene dissolve. “What’s so funny?” Jayfeather asked. “Icepaw.” Wonder what Dewspeckle said. She tried to watch again, but Jayfeather stopped walking. “Dawnpaw, if you’re going to be a tunneler, you need to learn how to focus.” “My mind just wandered, that’s all.” Not entirely a lie.“When you’re at camp, you can think about your sister all you want. I mean, dark forest, you can talk to her. But down here, distraction can be a death sentence.” Dawnpaw shrugged, hoping Jayfeather was watching through her eyes so he could feel it. “I won’t die with you here.” “You will if you smack into the walls,” he snapped. “Why do you think I haven’t turned you loose in here?” “Because I’m hardly more than a kit.” “No, because you still act like you are a kit. You don’t get any leeway down here until you prove that you can handle it like a warrior.” Dawnpaw bristled, stung. “Fine.” “I hope that ‘fine’ means you’ll take responsibility.” Jayfeather resumed walking, and Dawnpaw stamped after him. “Don’t shake the floor.” She groaned and put her paws down more carefully. When he led her up to the surface, she flounced out of the tunnel and made a show of licking her fur clean. She knew he couldn’t see her, but his other senses were sharp enough that at the very least he would know she was angry. “Don’t get used to clean fur. When you live underground, you get dirty every day.” “Well, I don’t live underground.” Some of us have lives outside of the tunnels. I plan to have friends.“We can transfer you to a moor-runner if you’d like. I’d’ve thought you’d like the prestige of a tunneler more. Not sure how well a cat as tiny as you would fare up here, either. But it’s your funeral.” Dawnpaw blanched. “I didn’t say that.” Part of wanting to be a tunneler had been a chance to clear the light from her eyes, too; she spent so much time seeing that it was nice to take a step back. “Then you will learn to respect me,” he hissed. She hadn’t meant to upset him. “I respect you.” He snorted. “For the record, I do have friends.” He stalked into camp, and Dawnpaw padded after him, keeping low. Did he just read my mind?“Ready for battle training?” Boulderpaw called. “Me?” “Just because Jayfeather brought you here late does not give you free rein to skip training,” Breezepelt huffed. “We’re going now.” “Now? But I’m hungry.” “How much prey have you caught today?” the black warrior asked pointedly. Jayfeather didn’t take me hunting! “Exactly.” Breezepelt hared away. Boulderpaw dipped his head sheepishly. “He’s got a temper.” “I just want a nice juicy rabbit,” Dawnpaw muttered. “We can share one back at camp,” Boulderpaw suggested. “Don’t worry. We’re training with Graypaw, too; Nightcloud’s grouchy, but she’ll let us eat.” He kept his promise, and Boulderpaw, Dawnpaw, and Graypaw shared a rabbit that afternoon. Tomorrow she would focus on her training. CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO LIONSTORMLionstorm pinned Silverhawk to the ground again. “I really don’t think my battle skills are going to be a problem.” “I hear you ran from a cat in a fire,” Antpelt meowed, amber eyes sparkling. “Couldn’t bear to face him, could you?” “I didn’t run from him. He turned into fire and I ran through him.” Tigerstar laughed. “You ran through a cat.” “I ran through a fire that used to be a cat.” “You still believe in this prophecy, don’t you?” Tigerstar sighed. Yes. “You’re seeing things that aren’t there.” No.“Prophecy?” Silverhawk sneered. “You’re no prophecy cat.” Lionstorm lashed his tail. “It was a long time ago. I don’t think I am anymore.” He still didn’t like lying, but it was much easier than arguing. “Get off me,” Silverhawk snarled, shoving Lionstorm away. No longer focused on the fight, Lionstorm felt the pale tabby’s hooked claws catch under his foreleg. “I’m here, Tigerstar.” Hawkstar pushed his way out of the brush, his eyes eerily pale in the cold gray light. “There was a rogue on our territory, and it took a while to track him down.” “Well, I hope you got rid of him,” Silverhawk sniffed. “I did.” Hawkstar bared his teeth, and Lionstorm’s stomach lurched at the glistening blood. “You’ve always been my best apprentice,” Tigerstar meowed, twitching his tail. This is not good. Hawkstar was a dangerous cat, wasn’t he? Tigerstar isn’t helping me after all.Tigerstar called Lionstorm up to spar with him. He was a tougher opponent than Silverhawk, but his claws skidded uselessly over Lionstorm’s skin. Does he even notice that this isn’t working?This thought distracted him, and Tigerstar knocked him aside. Lionstorm lashed out, but his claws grasped harmlessly at the tips of Tigerstar’s fur. “Too slow. Work harder, and then you’ll forget that prophecy for good.” This time Lionstorm would not allow himself to be distracted. I’m not falling for it ever again. Tigerstar tried to go limp and pull Lionstorm down, but Lionstorm lunged sideways, then reached back to batter at Tigerstar’s exposed belly. Strange, thin, sticky blackish blood flowed from Tigerstar’s wounds. He tried to get to his paws but could not. Lionstorm held a paw of thorn-sharp claws to the tabby’s neck. “You’ll never do it,” Tigerstar growled. “No.” Lionstorm released Tigerstar, backing up with his tail held high. “You’re already dead.” He would have killed Tigerstar, but maybe it was crueler to leave him wasting away here. “Lack of respect for your elders does not bode well for your prospects in WindClan,” Silverhawk warned. “That’s not—” Something was poking him. “Who’s there?” He whipped his head around, but no one was there. Then Jayfeather appeared before him. Mouse dung, I’m awake. “Lionstorm, you have to stop,” his brother hissed. “Stop doing what?” He can’t possibly know about the Place of No Stars. Maybe I’ve been kicking or snoring. That must be what he wants.“Stop visiting Tigerstar. Hollyheart’s told me all about you. That place is bad. You should have nothing to do with it, or with any cat there.” “Oh, don’t worry.” Lionstorm instinctively pulled his lips back over his teeth. “I won’t be going back there.” “You won’t?” Doing his best to overlook the surprise in Jayfeather’s voice, Lionstorm explained how he had seen Hawkstar there. “I’ve trained all I need to to be the best warrior I can.” “That’s not really…you can keep improving yourself, you know,” Jayfeather grunted. “This morning’s been a good step in that direction.” Lionstorm nodded absently. “Good night.” “It’s dawn.” Dawn patrol! Lionstorm sprang to his paws. His legs felt like mud, but he slunk stiffly out of the den. Maybe he didn’t have Tigerstar anymore, but he had the prophecy, and that was all that mattered. CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE JAYFEATHER“Get down from there, Dawnpaw,” Hollyheart snapped. His apprentice tumbled down from the branches of the fir tree. “I was up so high,” she bragged to her littermates. “Bet I can climb higher,” Graypaw mewed. “No way.” A rattling of branches told Jayfeather that Dawnpaw had started up the tree’s trunk again. “Really, Jayfeather. Really.” Breezepelt’s voice sliced at his ears like a fox’s teeth. “You can’t even control an apprentice that small?” Boulderpaw made a disgruntled noise, and a moment later the tree began to shake harder. Breezepelt snarled, “Get down from there, or I’ll hold your ceremony back an extra moon!” and the tom dropped to the ground with a whimper. “That’s such a great way to handle an apprentice,” Jayfeather muttered. “At least mine is on the ground,” Breezepelt hissed. Dawnpaw clattered back down, squeaking excitedly that she had climbed higher than Graypaw. “It’s nice to see WindClan is having fun,” Hawkstar meowed from his perch on the leaders’ tree. Onestar sighed darkly. “They are young.” “That’s no excuse,” sniffed Breezepelt. “We just have a few new mentors who can’t control their apprentices, that’s all.” “Quit climbing,” Jayfeather grunted. Dawnpaw stopped moving. She didn’t even twitch her tail; she just sat there breathing without listening to her siblings at all. Breezepelt lashed his tail, rustling the grass loudly. “It’s progress, I suppose.” “The tree is very large,” Cloudpaw mewed. “It is time for the Gathering to begin,” Blackstar yowled. “ShadowClan would like to announce the ceremonies of Tigerheart, Dawnpelt, Scorchfur, and Shrewfoot. Our new apprentices are Ferretpaw, Pinepaw, and Starlingpaw.” “That guy doesn’t look anything like a starling,” Breezepelt grunted. “Maybe he got his name from the feathers in his own brain.” Hawkstar meowed, “RiverClan has the new warriors Petalfur and Grasspelt and the apprentices Troutpaw, Mossypaw, and Rushpaw.” Onestar announced Dawnpaw, Cloudpaw, Icepaw, Graypaw, Swallowtail, and Sedgewhisker. Jayfeather saw that Hollyheart was still focused on Thistlepaw’s death. It isn’t like it’s your fault. I knew that place was bad for moons before she went there.Waves of emotion spilled from Hollyheart, and Jayfeather tried to listen. She was definitely upset. Oh. It’s about Leafpool now.Harespring had noticed, too, although of course he had no way of knowing why his mate was so agitated. He curled his tail around her. “It’ll be okay, whatever it is,” he soothed. “WindClan is strong, and you have all of us with you.” “No, I don’t,” she snapped. “Well, maybe you don’t have Breezepelt, but you’ve got the rest of us, I promise.” Hollyheart wrenched away from him. “No, I don’t, because I’m not a WindClan cat.” Jayfeather could hear the nearby crowd responding now. Some were disdainful, and others just wanted to go home, but most cats buzzed with curiosity. “That’s right,” Hollyheart meowed, standing up with a flourish that sent a disorienting gust of wind toward Jayfeather. “You think you know me, and my brothers Lionstorm and Jayfeather, but you’re wrong. Our mother is Leafpool. How many of you know that name?” “She’s defected to WindClan,” Onestar meowed drily. “Hollyheart, I understand your concern, but—” “Will no cat listen?” she screeched. “Hollyheart, we do listen,” Harespring pleaded. “You’re not paying any attention!” she accused. “Let me up on this tree.” “No.” Onestar failed to suppress a growl, but Jayfeather didn’t think he was really trying all that hard. “Leafpool was once a ThunderClan medicine cat; it is true. But after Bramblestar’s treachery, her Clan disowned her for her lies, and she asked to join our ranks to be with her mate.” “I have one mate, and that’s Nightcloud,” Crowfeather hissed. “They are my kits; I do not deny that much. I am not Leafpool’s mate any longer.” Hollyheart prepared to speak again, but Onestar cut her off. “We’re going home. You can join us or not; it is your choice.” Breezepelt made some comment as he herded Boulderpaw along. Jayfeather had nothing more to say to his sister. If you can’t even handle this, how are you supposed to save the Clans? he wondered. Never had he wished more that the prophecy had said only two. CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR HOLLYHEARTHollyheart dragged her paws over the grass. Last time she had come this way she had been excited at the prospect of telling Mousepaw about her parentage. This time she could not muster the energy. Onestar had scolded her harshly, and for once no one disagreed, not even Ashfoot or her own brothers. Weaselfur had laughed at her. You’re the one who mentored me.The horseplace fence drew into sight. Sure enough, Mousepaw languished nearby with Berrypaw and Hazelpaw. “I heard you blew your top,” Berrypaw mewed, rolling onto his paws. She flinched. “Don’t talk about that.” “Well, okay.” Hollyheart swiped her tongue over her jaws. Both were dry. “Do you know any good places to find water?” Mousepaw snorted. “Only if you want to go in the Nofurs’ nest.” “I’ll pass.” “What’s wrong?” Hazelpaw mewed, tipping her head to the side. “I’m just thirsty.” “No you’re not.” Mousepaw thumped his tail against the ground. “You don’t have to talk. You don’t even have to tell us, because we know: your Clan doesn’t like you much anymore.” “Don’t talk about that,” she hissed again. Mousepaw sighed. “I don’t even see what your problem is. You already know that your Clan killed off ThunderClan.” “They didn’t kill them,” Hollyheart protested weakly. “What’s the big deal if your mom didn’t kill them?” “I said I’m just thirsty.” Berrypaw groaned. “Quit whining. You’re the warrior here.” Hazelpaw glared at him, and Berrypaw grinned back until she rolled her eyes and looked back at Hollyheart. “I’m just saying her apprentice died and she did the same thing.” “Could you be any more insensitive?” hissed Hazelpaw. “Probably.” “It sure is dry, though,” Mousepaw meowed loudly, trying to steer the conversation back to a more comfortable topic. “I’ve heard even RiverClan’s been having trouble. Their fish water’s turning more into dead stuff mud.” “Dead stuff mud,” Berrypaw echoed. “I thought RiverClan would do okay,” Hollyheart mewed. Mousepaw shook his head. “They have a lot of water, but that’s because they need more water. Hawkstar’s been sending patrols pretty far up here.” “That’s where I got my scratches,” Hazelpaw muttered, turning so Hollyheart could see her lacerated shoulder. Hollyheart sighed heavily. “I don’t know how much worse things could get.” “Things can always get worse,” Mousepaw mewed balefully. “I thought things were the worst they’d ever be when Berrypaw’s tail got chopped off. Then I lost my home and almost everyone I ever knew.” “I’m sorry,” Hollyheart offered. Mousepaw and Hazelpaw gave each other a look, then turned back to Hollyheart. “We’ve got no water, dead cats are trying to kill us, and no one will even listen to anything I have to say, and I’m the one who has to save them,” she explained. “Why don’t you work on saving them on your own merit instead of this prophecy?” Hazelpaw mewed. “That’s not to say you can’t be in the prophecy!” Mousepaw interjected. “Just…do what you think is right, not what you think StarClan is saying.” “Because I’m not a real WindClan cat.” Berrypaw scrunched up his muzzle. “Stop angsting. It’s like you’re looking for reasons to complain. I wasn’t born in ThunderClan; didn’t make me any less an apprentice.” “I have to hunt,” she said abruptly, marching away. They didn’t follow her. CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE ICEPAW Dawnpaw had been bouncing with excitement a few heartbeats ago, but suddenly she was sitting perfectly still, staring glassily at nothing. “Dawnpaw is listening,” Cloudpaw breathed. “Listening to what?” Icepaw mewed. She wanted to trust Cloudpaw’s intuition, but the little gray-and-white cat always seemed so distant, as if they were speaking from the other side of the lake. “The tunnel.” Cloudpaw pointed their muzzle toward the opening in the earth. Icepaw and Graypaw stared suspiciously at them. “The tunnel isn’t making any noise,” Graypaw pointed out. Gorsetail called them to attention. “I know you’re the senior warrior, but I don’t want to put us in danger in the tunnels,” he said to Nightcloud, who dipped her head. To the apprentices he meowed, “Dawnpaw and Cloudpaw have been down here before, but this will be the first time for Icepaw and Graypaw. That in mind, we must be very careful.” He and Jayfeather outlined the rules of tunneling. Icepaw tried to pay attention, but she was a moor-runner for a reason. She liked to be able to see where she was going, and she liked the brisk breeze and warm sunshine of the aboveground world. “Now, we also have to be a little extra careful today,” Jayfeather droned. “The ground is very dry. That would be safe, except that near the entrances and exits, the roof of the tunnels can be crumbly. Do not lift your tails or heads until you are safely out of range of the earth.” “Got it,” Graypaw meowed. “How deep do the tunnels go?” “Deeper than you’re going today,” Gorsetail told him. “Come on, I’ll lead the patrol, and Jayfeather will bring up the rear.” The tunnels were just as awful as she had imagined. They were boring—nothing to see, very little to smell—and the darkness felt like it was choking her. Icepaw stayed silent while the other seven cats chatted. Dewspeckle told some story about killing a fox that had come out of a tunnel, which did not do much to calm her nerves. They neared the surface, and Icepaw was relieved to see the sun again. In front of her Dewspeckle was equally excited; he bounded forward, scraping his back against the top of the tunnel. Icepaw gasped, but before she could say anything, dust showered into her face. Chunks of earth fell down, and someone was shrieking, probably Dewspeckle. “Help,” she spluttered. Dawnpaw’s claws hooked into her pelt, and Jayfeather powered forward, shoving them up to the surface and scrambling after them. “Despeck,” he panted, soil spilling from his mouth. Icepaw understood, but the others were already trying to dig him out. He was buried completely, but his paws still churned the surface. She reached for him, and Jayfeather swung a paw down into the earth. He was not even close to grabbing Dewspeckle. Icepaw coughed on the dust swirling up at her. Dawnpaw yanked her back from the soft earth. Nightcloud and Gorsetail managed to drag Dewspeckle to the surface. Gorsetail pried open his mouth and tried to claw out the soil, but after only two pawsful he stopped. “He’s dead. He choked.” “No, he can’t be,” Icepaw whimpered, slinking over to her mentor. “He walks with StarClan,” Jayfeather mewed, sadness welling in his voice. “I didn’t save him.” “You did as much as you could,” Gorsetail said firmly. “His death is a tragedy, and everyone will mourn, but it is not your fault at all.” “You told him not to do what he did,” Nightcloud pointed out. Icepaw was shocked; the black queen had always hated Jayfeather, hadn’t she? “Are you okay, Icepaw?” Gorsetail mewed gently, putting a paw near her. Icepaw stared at him. “Dewspeckle isn’t.” “I know.” He lowered his gaze. “It’s hard to lose someone close to you. Thistlepaw’s death was the worst day of my life. Death is inevitable. You will see Dewspeckle again when you go to StarClan.” “Yeah, I guess.” She lay down and put her head on her paws. Onestar assigned Weaselfur to mentor Icepaw in Dewspeckle’s stead. She sat vigil with the cats mourning Dewspeckle that night. Icepaw wondered if Dawnpaw would still like being a tunneler now that she had seen a cat die; maybe a cat as fragile as her sister would be too upset to ever go back down. Not Icepaw. The tunnels had been boring, but a refusal to return to their depths now would look like cowardice, and she was not going to allow that. Warriors were never afraid. CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX DAWNPAWThe strange creature’s teeth hurt. It chewed away at the huge branch, then dragged it into the water. Dawnpaw liked the feeling of the cool water on her pelt. Icepaw and Graypaw had teased her, calling her a RiverClan fish, but that had been a long time ago. The last time she had tried to go down to the lakeshore, she had been mired in the mud, and it had taken a huge toll on Tornear’s health to dig her out. He had just recovered from his greencough, and now he was sick again, though Barkface said it was mostly exhaustion and overworked muscles. It put its funny paws up against a stack of branches and tree trunks, adding its new find to the pile. Its fellows slathered mud onto the wood, and Dawnpaw grimaced, finding it very strange to move while seeing through another’s eyes. Then the creature climbed up onto the wall, surveying its handiwork. On one side was the lake it had been swimming in; on the other, a wide, muddy riverbed with barely a trickle flowing down it. “That’s the lake water,” she mewed aloud, and the vision dissolved. “Those brown things are stopping up the water.” “The what?” asked Jayfeather. “Oh, well, you can’t see them, but can’t you smell them? Just pay attention to what they’re—” “There are no strange things here,” he asserted. “The lake’s river is dry, yes, but that’s because of the lack of rain.” “No, they’re there,” she insisted. Jayfeather stared in her direction, and she could almost see him thinking. She hunched over her paws, mumbling a halfhearted apology. “You definitely saw them,” he said slowly. “That is a real memory.” Dawnpaw blinked. “Yeah.” Does he believe me now? “I was one of them. I could see and hear and taste everything it did.” “Those things you saw. You do that often?” “All the time, but mostly just with other cats. Don’t you ever try that?” Jayfeather pulled back. “Dawnpaw, that isn’t a normal thing that cats can do. I think—” He paused, jaws open. “I’ve always thought that Hollyheart would be the third, but if that’s true, then this is a remarkable coincidence. You are my kin, and I am Firestar’s kin.” “Firestar?” Jayfeather’s eyes narrowed. “Dawn River.” “Dawn river?” she echoed nervously. “What does that mean?” “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. We’re telling Onestar about this, but you need to do one thing for me. Pretend this vision came from StarClan. And you saw a black-and-white cat named Tallstar. He talked to you and told you these things were there.” Dawnpaw blinked a few more times, wondering what he meant by all of this. “Well, yeah, I can do that.” Onestar, Ashfoot, and Barkface listened as she outlined her vision. Onestar especially looked surprised at her mention of Tallstar. When she had finished, Barkface meowed, “StarClan has not sent Kestrelflight or me any of this, but it would be unwise to assume that meant anything in regards to your dream.” “It wasn’t just a dream,” Dawnpaw said sullenly. Barkface shook his head. “Not just a dream. Never just a dream. I believe StarClan visited you.” Jayfeather took her down into the tunnels, and when they came back, there were more cats in the camp than there usually would have been at sunhigh. “Why aren’t there a bunch of patrols out?” she asked. Jayfeather shrugged and said, “Maybe it’s because of the drought,” then padded over to talk to Hollyheart and Harespring. She watched through Onestar’s eyes as he spotted them, rose to his paws, and bounded dizzyingly up the Tallrock. “Let all cats six moons on join before the Tallrock for a Clan meeting,” he called, and now Dawnpaw understood. This meeting was for her. CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN HOLLYHEARTHollyheart ground her teeth together as she listened to Onestar talk. Jayfeather had told her immediately before the meeting that Dawnpaw’s vision had not been from StarClan. “I didn’t expect this either,” he had said, “but this has to be her ability as one of the Three.” Not precognition after all, she thought bitterly. Onestar assigned Dawnpaw to the patrol, since she had been the one to see the brown creatures in the first place, as well as Lionstorm for his fighting ability and Whitetail for being one of his oldest, most trusted warriors. Ashfoot was to lead a patrol to ask ShadowClan, then RiverClan, about joining them. Hollyheart lashed her tail. “What, did you think you’d be going?” Breezepelt muttered. “Onestar doesn’t like us, or had you forgotten?” “I didn’t forget. Look at her.” Hollyheart jabbed her muzzle toward Dawnpaw, who bounced eagerly around the foot of the Tallrock. “After how you behaved at the Gathering, I actually can’t complain about Onestar not liking you,” said Breezepelt. She bristled. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Breezepelt snorted and whipped his tail. “That’s right. You already got what you wanted. Attention, a whole lot of it. Look how that’s worked out for you.” Before Hollyheart could come up with a biting response, he turned and barked for Boulderpaw to train with him in the sandy hollow. He’s just a foxhearted furball, she told herself. Spiting him felt good, so she continued this inner monologue as she left the camp and crossed WindClan’s territory. Sounds of anguish and pain caught her attention as she neared the horseplace. “Where are you?” she mewed, galloping toward the noises. It was Hawkstar and a couple of his warriors. She recognized the pale gray she-cat as Dawnflower. Mousepaw and Hazelpaw squared fearfully up against the RiverClan patrol. Beneath one massive paw Hawkstar pinned Berrypaw to the ground. “Get off our territory, Hawkstar,” Hollyheart growled. He bared his teeth at her. “I’d be careful if I were you.” “That’s the one who talked out at the Gathering,” Dawnflower mewed. Hawkstar’s icy blue eyes gleamed. “Have you not already caused enough trouble for your Clan, or brought enough on yourself?” She stepped forward. “Let him go; he isn’t on your territory. You have no quarrel with him.” “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said gravely, and he drove his claws like brambles into Berrypaw. “These cats’ presence threatens all of the Clans.” “No, it doesn’t,” she whispered. He pressed his paw down harder before advancing on Hollyheart. “Their presence has put you in danger.” “Go ahead and kill me, then. Have fun.” Hollyheart refused to be intimidated. If I die, I die a martyr.Hawkstar lunged, but Hollyheart braced herself for an impact that never came. “It’s probably a trap,” Otterheart meowed, and Hawkstar stopped, scenting the air. “All I smell is blood,” he spat. “Last time we fought them in their territory, we almost lost Pinefur,” Otterheart reminded her leader. “If Dawnflower’s wounds get reopened, she’ll probably die.” “We have made a lot of noise,” Dawnflower agreed. “This is already a defeat they won’t soon forget.” “That’s true.” Hawkstar thought for a moment, then spat blood out at Hollyheart’s paws. “You had to show up, didn’t you? You’re the one that got into our camp. You are an enemy of RiverClan. We got what we came for. Get your nose out of our business.” He took care to step on Berrypaw’s lifeless body as he led his patrol back to RiverClan territory. “I’m sorry I didn’t save him,” Hollyheart whimpered. “You tried. We don’t blame you,” Hazelpaw whispered, voice thick with grief. Mousepaw’s usually bright gaze was blank. “I didn’t expect RiverClan to hate us too.” “We went on their territory, but only a few pawsteps, and it was to catch a vole I was already tracking,” Hazelpaw added. “If anything it’s my own fault.” Hollyheart shook her head. “No, it’s Hawkstar’s fault. Do you want help burying him?” She managed to scrape a hole in the hard, dry earth deep enough to nose the bloody Berrypaw into. “We’ll tell Floss and our parents,” Mousepaw meowed. “He needs a warrior name.” “He was always worried about getting a mousebrained name like Berrystumpytail,” Hazelpaw confessed, attempting to smile. “Maybe we’ll just call him Berryfur.” “I wish he didn’t die so young,” meowed Hollyheart. She would have sat vigil for Berryfur, but she didn’t want to anger Onestar any more, so she paid her respects and returned home. CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT DAWNPAWJayfeather grunted his goodbye as Dawnpaw padded after Lionstorm and Whitetail. They were departing from near ShadowClan territory, just outside the borders. The other six cats already waited there. ShadowClan had sent two brownish tabbies and a tortoiseshell; RiverClan had sent two gray-and-white queens and a dark tabby. Lionstorm introduced her to Tigerheart and Ivytail, and he told one of the RiverClan queens was named Minnowtail, though he did not approach her. Minnowtail definitely noticed. The others were Toadfoot, Rippletail, and Petalfur. Dawnpaw had heard Rippletail’s name before at a Gathering from Troutpaw and Mossypaw. Mossypaw had also said Minnowtail hated Lionstorm; this probably did not bode well. Whitetail, the oldest in the patrol, led them upstream, saying they should not step into the muddy riverbed. Dawnpaw ached to press her paws into the mud and feel the cool all through her, but she knew better. Wonder if I could get the ShadowClan and RiverClan cats to have to dig me out when we come back home. Of course, if they returned home successfully, this would be not a dried-up swath of mud but a roaring river. Dawnpaw was fascinated by this journey. The other Clans’ borders had seemed amazing at first; RiverClan’s thin, peaty forest and ShadowClan’s pine trees were both very different from WindClan’s moors and once-dense forest. But they had grown old in the last moon. Here was a new territory, one that no Clan had ever lived in. As far as Tawnyfur’s stories had gone, no Clan cat had ever set paw this far upriver from the lake. This was all fresh. She scampered from tree to tree. Most were familiar types. The underbrush grabbed at her fur, and she squealed when thorns poked her. Toadfoot muttered, “At least one of us is enjoying herself.” Dawnpaw rolled her eyes, mouthed the words he had said, and allowed herself a brief daydream about kicking the big tom into the mud before continuing to explore. They hunted mice together. Prey was still fairly scarce here from the drought, but there were fewer cats out here to catch it, so they amassed a good kill easily. “You’re a pretty good hunter for such a small cat,” Tigerheart commented. Her chest swelled with pride. “Jayfeather says I’m a fast learner.” Tigerheart glanced at Lionstorm. “I remember him. He’s pretty grouchy, isn’t he?” “He hates me,” she chirped. “No, he doesn’t, but I pretend like he does. It makes him annoyed.” The dark brown tabby twitched his whiskers. “It’s okay; he hates everyone equally, but me especially.” Dawnpaw grinned. “How do you know him?” “Long story. I used to be in WindClan. You can ask Owlwhisker about it.” When they had finished eating, Tigerheart took her back to the nearly-empty riverbed and showed her how good he was at hopping on stones and fallen branches embedded in the mud without falling in. Showoff, she thought, but he was so excited about it that she couldn’t help but enjoy. “Tigerheart, you get back here right now,” Toadfoot snarled. “We have to find those things that took the water, and if we have to leave you stuck out there to drown, we will.” “Keep your paws on.” Tigerheart pranced back to the ragged grass. “You want to learn how to jump like that?” he whispered to Dawnpaw. For the rest of the day, Tigerheart leapt through bushes and low branches whenever he could. Dawnpaw followed, though she fell a couple of times. “You need to be more careful,” Lionstorm scolded. She licked the sore spots on her chest and forelegs. “I’m perfectly fine.” “You are more important than you can imagine,” he breathed. “You need to stay safe.” She bounded away after Tigerheart, ignoring Lionstorm. Jayfeather had already given her the spiel. You can’t get hurt. You can’t fall down. You can’t be lost in battle. If you aren’t ready, the Clans will all die.Yeah, well, if StarClan wants something from me, then they’re going to have to ask me themselves! She wasn’t going to sacrifice her apprentice moons over this. StarClan could obviously wait. CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE HOLLYHEARTHollyheart had not been sleeping well. Her dreams had been haunted by that dark forest, and she had spent those running endlessly, breath tearing at her throat, paws throbbing. Other times she simply could not get to sleep at all. What happened to the power of the stars?At least, she told herself, it was not Breezepelt, but this was small comfort. If it had been the surly tom, she would have an excuse to be angry. Dawnpaw was annoying and immature, but she had done nothing wrong. Kestrelflight had announced Barkface’s death that morning. He and Jayfeather had gone out collecting herbs; the vigil would be tonight. Harespring nuzzled her, breaking her out of her trance. “Oh, hello,” she said, voice sounding like it came from far away. “Are you okay?” he meowed. She dipped her head. “I’m fine.” “That’s good.” He touched his nose to hers, then said, “You have a patrol; Ashfoot’s been assigning them for the day. Breezepelt, Heathertail, and their apprentices should join you.” She grimaced weakly. “Border or hunting?” “Border. RiverClan. Dangerous, but we’ve gotta patrol it.” He shifted his paws. “Weaselfur’s set to lead yours.” “Oh, wonderful.” She reluctantly joined Weaselfur and Icepaw near the camp entrance. Breezepelt seemed very angry about something; Boulderpaw padded nervously behind him. Furzepaw was much less afraid, pestering Heathertail and a very angry Weaselfur with insistent argument over the prospect of rain. “I really think it looks like it’s going to rain soon, don’t you? I know it’s been dry, but it has to rain soon.” They passed by the horseplace, and Hollyheart acknowledged Mousepaw and Hazelpaw, who didn’t seem at all afraid when Breezepelt hissed at them. “RiverClan scent,” Heathertail reported. Weaselfur pushed her aside, picked up the scent, and followed it until the RiverClan cats came into view. There were only five of them. “Attack,” Weaselfur ordered, launching himself at Otterheart. Hollyheart pounced at Pinefur. The shorthaired cat snarled, grabbed at Hollyheart’s pelt, and flung her. She didn’t fly far. Hollyheart regained her footing and struck again. After a few back-and-forth swipes, Furzepaw leapt onto Pinefur’s back. Unbalanced and disoriented, Pinefur swung sideways and toppled over, snarling obscenities at WindClan. “Okay, okay,” Pinefur panted as Hollyheart lashed at her muzzle. “You win. Get off of me.” Furzepaw only planted herself more firmly on Pinefur’s shoulders. “When you all surrender.” “Yeah, we’d better,” Otterheart mewed. “Dawnflower, we’re losing this battle.” Dawnflower grunted and smashed Heathertail to the ground. “Not if we keep fighting.” “Yes, keep fighting,” Breezepelt laughed. He was practically running circles around Pouncetail. “We need to stop fighting too,” Heathertail pleaded, still trying to shelter Icepaw. “Dawnflower, if you get off our territory, we won’t tell Onestar about this.” Hollyheart was pretty sure this was a lie, but even if it was, Dawnflower didn’t fall for it. Instead she took one pawstep back, then lunged for Breezepelt. Boulderpaw slashed at Dawnflower’s flank. Breezepelt was too fast for the she-cat, and now she had to deal with four cats at once as Heathertail and Icepaw joined in. “All right, we’re done,” Dawnflower announced, holding up a paw to block Heathertail’s onslaught. “We’re going back to our territory.” Breezepelt was not satisfied, and instead he chose to egg his apprentice on. “You have a good angle now, Boulderpaw. Get her behind the leg.” “We’re finished—” “Now, Boulderpaw,” Breezepelt hissed, darting forward to bite Dawnflower. “Stop it, Breezepelt,” Hollyheart cried. “You shut up, thunder,” snapped Weaselfur. The black warrior’s teeth sank into her shoulder as she whirled, huge paw colliding with Boulderpaw. “Too slow. Try again,” Breezepelt shouted. “No, the battle is over.” Otterheart grabbed Breezepelt and pulled him away; she ducked and bounded back as he attacked her. “Keep going, Boulderpaw. Get her by the throat.” Boulderpaw whimpered, and Dawnflower threw him aside. “Quit it,” she snarled at Breezepelt. “You need to learn when your opponent’s beaten.” “Then when will you learn? Don’t ever come back to our territory,” Breezepelt growled. Hollyheart tried not to look at Boulderpaw. She knew what she would see. They carried him back to the camp to sit vigil for him alongside Barkface. Mousepaw was right; she should try to defend against Hawkstar even without a prophecy—but how was she supposed to do that if no cat would listen? CHAPTER NINETY LIONSTORMLionstorm narrowed his eyes as Tigerheart and Dawnpaw bounced through the branches. She had ignored all of his warnings to be cautious. Just because you’re the fourth apprentice in a row Onestar’s sent on a big mission doesn’t give you any right to be as reckless as we were.He hated himself for thinking it, but he couldn’t shake that Tigerheart really did look like a miniature Tigerstar. I trusted Tigerstar once, and he made me want to kill. Maybe Tigerstar didn’t deserve all the blame for Lionstorm’s thirst for blood, but the alternative was too horrible to consider. I do not like to kill!He talked to Ivytail, who told him Flamepaw had become Littlecloud’s apprentice and that she had trained Dawnpelt. “They’re warriors pretty early,” he commented. She shrugged. “They learn fast.” She flicked her tail toward Tigerheart. Lionstorm wrinkled his nose. “There are dogs nearby,” Whitetail announced. I can fight them!No, I can’t. They might hurt the others.Dawnpaw hopped out of the trees and walked directly beside Lionstorm, staring forward with an empty look in her eyes. “The dogs are there,” she murmured, gesturing to the right. “All right, then, we’ve got to cross this riverbed,” Lionstorm meowed. This was easier said than done, but Tigerheart quickly found a safe series of leaps to the other side. They skirted the dogs; Lionstorm imagined gnashing muzzles and teeth like hawthorns on the other bank, but when the dogs emerged from the bushes, they were quite small, and all three of them were on leashes held by Twolegs. Head on back t’your Upwalkers, Lionstorm thought, twitching his tail. The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Dawnpaw was still enamored with Tigerheart’s leaping talent, and Lionstorm’s pelt prickled, but he had given up chastising her. She could run off with Tigerstar if she wanted to. No, that’s not Tigerstar…“It’s okay, Tigerheart won’t let her fall,” Ivytail assured him. Easy for you to say. The Clans’ future doesn’t rest on you.The Twoleg scent increased as they traveled, but the lack of disturbance along most of the riverbed meant they still felt relatively safe. Early the next morning Whitetail smelled rabbits. “And there are either a lot or some really fat ones.” She led them forward until they pushed their way out of the underbrush. Lionstorm blinked in the sunlight. It was like being back on the moor—except for the Twoleg nests. They were smallish nests, but there were several of them, scattered along both sides of a quiet Thunderpath. “I don’t like this,” Toadfoot growled, echoing Lionstorm’s thoughts. “The rabbits are this way,” Minnowtail meowed, and Lionstorm could hear the hunger in her voice. The rabbits were in a very small den. It did not look as if they could escape; a flap covering a hole in the top had been left slightly askew, and Ivytail got her teeth around it and opened it all the way. “Stop,” shouted an unfamiliar voice. Lionstorm jerked his head up to see three cats, clearly kittypets, atop a stack of small logs. “You can’t eat those,” the ginger tom ordered. “Why not? We’re hungry,” Petalfur mewed, and Lionstorm was startled at how petulant the young warrior sounded. RiverClan was definitely not eating well in the drought. Of course—that tiny little stream could never hold all the fish they need to survive.“The Nofurs will call the animal stealers if they find cats taking their rabbits,” the white cat explained. “They’ll think it was us.” “Plus there was that one cat.” The ginger tabby shuddered. “He stole a rabbit, and they took him to the Cutter. He was never the same again.” “Can’t we just take one?” Rippletail begged. The brown-and-black tom shook his head. “They’ll notice.” “They don’t even eat them,” moaned the she-cat. “All that good food and we can’t even have any,” Minnowtail growled. “Twolegs are so wasteful.” “What are you doing here?” the black-and-brown tom asked. Whitetail told him about the brown creatures draining the lake and introduced the Clan cats. The dark tom said his name was Jigsaw and his friends’ names were Snowdrop and Seville. Snowdrop closed her eyes. “I wonder if the brown things are dogs. Or giant rabbits!” The kittypets showed them a safer place to hunt. The catch was nothing spectacular, but they were not far from their goal. They met a tom named Woody who showed them the brown things, which were apparently called beavers. “I’d steer clear of them, though,” he advised. “Wicked sharp teeth, and they’re huge.” “We’ll be fine, thanks.” Lionstorm told himself that his eagerness to fight was just a drive to heroism and fell asleep beside the rest of the patrol. CHAPTER NINETY-ONE ICEPAWWeaselfur let her finish training early so that she could share a rabbit with her siblings. She caught Hollyheart glaring at her, but the black warrior was always upset, even more so since her outburst at the Gathering. Graypaw started by bragging about how fast he could run. “Nightcloud says I’m probably going to be one of the fastest cats in the Clan.” “Yeah, well, you should see me in running training.” “Running training?” Graypaw wrinkled his nose. “What’s that?” “What do you think?” she squealed, shoving him with a paw. Cloudpaw ate their fill of rabbit before joining the conversation. “I heard and felt a small river today.” “A small river?” Graypaw snickered. “You didn’t see it first?” “It was very dark.” “It’s in the tunnels, mousebrain,” said Icepaw. “Where Dawnpaw should be,” he muttered. Icepaw sighed. “She gets a sign from StarClan and suddenly Onestar loves her.” “Not just Onestar. You should hear Nightcloud.” “Oh, and Weaselfur, too,” she assured him. “ Everyone.” “Gorsetail says it is very unusual for an apprentice to receive a sign the way she did,” Cloudpaw put in. “Not you too,” Graypaw moaned. “Honestly, why did they need to send her? It’s not like she’s going to be of any use when they actually get there.” “Better than having her here,” Icepaw mewed, swishing her tail. Graypaw laughed. “That’s true.” Cloudpaw did not look happy, but they said nothing, just frowned off into nothingness. “I think Hollyheart’s the only cat in the Clan who doesn’t like her,” Icepaw whispered. Nightcloud called Graypaw away to a hunting patrol, and Cloudpaw pattered away to find Gorsetail. Traitor, Icepaw thought. Weaselfur had made no secret of the fact that he would rather have Dawnpaw than Icepaw. He seemed completely disinterested in the white she-cat and kept making little snide comments about how Jayfeather must be more proud than he was. “Well, maybe Dawnpaw should have been a medicine cat,” she said aloud. That was an idea. With Barkface gone, Kestrelflight was free to train an apprentice—that would get Dawnpaw out of the way. Icepaw wasn’t to the point of wishing death on her sister. She still cared about Dawnpaw, even if she was angry. But she had even caught Leafpool, Jayfeather, and Morningflower talking about some old leader Firestar who had gotten signs from StarClan all the time. She wasn’t ready to sit back while Dawnpaw got to be leader. Dawnstar. Mousebrained name, really; there aren’t even any StarClan-forsaken stars at dawn! Only the sun, and that doesn’t count.Icepaw wasn’t even certain she wanted to be leader; it sounded like a lot of work. Then again, wouldn’t it be fitting for Icestar to disrupt Firestar’s pattern? She tore into the rabbit. It was huge, too big for her to finish alone, but she still ripped chunks out of it. This rabbit is an enemy warrior. No, it’s a fox.“Quit playing with your food, Icepaw,” Jayfeather growled as he and Kestrelflight passed. “I wasn’t playing,” she sniffed. When Graypaw returned from patrol, they resumed their battle game. Icepaw comforted herself with the thought that Dawnpaw probably didn’t have any friends on her journey and would miss out on who-knew-how-much training; she would return to a different world. CHAPTER NINETY-TWO JAYFEATHERJayfeather split from his patrol to chase after a rabbit scent trail he had found. He was accustomed enough to this part of the moor that he thought he might be able to catch it even aboveground, and as he followed it into a tunnel he felt the thrill of victory. Jayfeather toted the rabbit back to the surface through a new tunnel. He was close to the empty Moonpool streambed now. What’s Breezepelt doing here?His half-brother’s scent was very fresh, and from how concentrated it was, he had been moving fairly slowly. Jayfeather pushed his rabbit aside, scraping a bit of dry earth over it, and took a deep breath. ShadowClan.He tracked Breezepelt; the WindClan cat’s scent trail was almost perfectly aligned with the ShadowClan cat’s. He thought he smelled milk, too. And blood. He quickened his pace. Indents of paw on stone told him he had arrived at the Moonpool. “Not you, too,” rasped a vaguely familiar voice. “What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously. “Please, I only wanted to speak to StarClan,” she begged. “I know you—you’re Jayfeather. It’s Kinkfur. Don’t you remember the competition day?” “You shut your mouth,” Breezepelt snarled, and the scent of blood intensified as Jayfeather heard him rip at Kinkfur. “Leave her alone, Breezepelt,” Jayfeather hissed. Why couldn’t it have been me sent on the mission and Lionstorm here dealing with this cat? He might actually listen to Lionstorm.“I’ll fight you, too, if I have to,” growled Breezepelt. “You wouldn’t do that.” Jayfeather had never imagined himself bluffing like this. He was supposed to be a fierce warrior. “You’re right. I’ll let you live—barely. They’ll wonder how you dragged yourself so far from the pool. But they’ll find out soon enough: you got your wounds fighting Kinkfur, didn’t you.” “What are you talking about?” Did he see someone standing behind Breezepelt? Was there a cat there, glaring at Jayfeather, from somewhere at the edge of the stone hollow? “Every cat will think it was you. I’ll tell them as much. Your birth ruined my life, and now I’ll ruin yours. Don’t you know cats talk about me? They hate me, Jayfeather. I hate them too.” “Do you think they don’t talk about me?” Jayfeather challenged. “The worst stories and lies were told about my littermates and me. I shouldn’t exist. You don’t have to kill over this.” Breezepelt snarled. “The only path to being a warrior is victory.” Jayfeather could feel him faltering. This went further than he expected.“Part of victory is knowing when to stop,” Jayfeather meowed desperately. Breezepelt’s claws scraped stone. “You should have stopped breathing seasons ago.” “Your fight is not with me,” Jayfeather told him. “The way Crowfeather treated you was wrong, but this is worse.” “Do not compare me to that piece of crowfood,” Breezepelt spat. “Let Kinkfur go, let me go, and be a warrior Onestar can be proud of.” He thought he saw a flicker of movement from the huge dark cat. “Onestar will never be proud,” Breezepelt hissed, “not of me. And neither will Crowfeather. You of all cats should understand that—no, you’re his favorite, of course. You’ve never had to fight tooth and claw just to show that you belong in WindClan.” “That’s because I don’t belong.” Jayfeather forced himself to approach Breezepelt. “You could have been a great warrior. You’re a fast runner and a strong fighter. Crowfeather’s head is stuck in the dirtplace. You don’t need his approval.” “I’m not looking for his approval.” His voice broke badly enough that Jayfeather might have found it funny if his half-brother weren’t on the verge of killing him. “I’m looking for revenge.” “Give up on revenge and be a WindClan warrior.” Breezepelt was quiet for a while, then growled, “Go back to your camp, Kinkfur. You don’t belong here.” The big dark cat was definitely gone now. He cleaned his claws and traveled with Jayfeather to the WindClan camp. Neither made any attempt at conversation. That night, asleep in the medicine den, Jayfeather found himself in the mountains. He started for the infinite cave of the Tribe of Endless Hunting, but before he reached it, the dark gray StarClan cat with long matted fur blocked his path. “What do you want?” he said crossly. “You did a good job today,” she croaked. “I was worried Brokenstar would attack. Worried someone would have to come save you.” So that was Brokenstar I saw. Thrills of horror snaked through his pelt. “He’s got his claws into Breezepelt,” she said, copper eyes clouding. “It may be too late for your brother’s spirit, but warding off Brokenstar for even a short time is to be commended.” “I am a warrior, you know.” She stared fiercely into his eyes. “After the sharp-eyed jay and the roaring lion, peace will rise with dawn’s gentle light. But that is not all.” Jayfeather leaned away from her foul breath. “Well—okay?” “You are a very competent warrior, and in fact one of the Three.” “All right; I know that already.” “It is not enough.” CHAPTER NINETY-THREE LIONSTORMLionstorm had never fought in water before. His powerful strikes were reduced to clumsy flopping, and he was reminded of his training with Owlwhisker. The beavers were much more experienced. Their thick, ungainly, stumpy legs glided effortlessly through the water to claw their targets. He grappled at the beaver he was fighting. It bit him—its teeth dug into his flesh, which was scary; he was trying to fight. Why couldn’t he get into the swing of it? The huge beaver wrestled him underwater, pinning him beneath the surface. Lionstorm struggled in its claws. Two of the Three, dead just like that.Anger surged through him. He pictured Tigerstar prodding him on back in the mountains. I trusted you! He pushed himself forward with so much force that it surprised even him, slamming the beaver against the mound of sticks in the middle of the lake. It recovered quickly, but Lionstorm had it on land now, sort of. He managed to claw it badly before it retreated into the water. This presented a new problem. He could fight just fine as long as he stayed atop the mound, but he could not fight the beavers if they simply avoided him. Lionstorm reached for the closest beaver, but it was too far away, and he toppled into the water. It was cold, although at least the air above was warm. A beaver slapped his back, sending him deeper down. This is hopeless, he thought frantically. He pulled himself back up onto the stick mound. Whitetail, Dawnpaw, and Tigerheart were up here now too, but the beavers weren’t falling for it. The ones not busy fighting Toadfoot, Ivytail, and the RiverClan cats all swam in place a safe distance from their mound. “We have to give up,” Lionstorm panted. “We can’t leave,” Tigerheart pointed out. His dark amber eyes were round with fear. “Surely we can get out of the water.” Whitetail shivered. Lionstorm hauled Ivytail out of the water as she drew nearer. She writhed and spat in his grasp for a moment, but she latched onto the mound and joined them. “We can’t beat them.” “Listen, everyone,” Lionstorm roared. “We’ve got to get away from this lake. Dawnpaw, get on my shoulders.” She nervously obliged, digging her claws into his skin. He plunged into the water, propelling himself away. The beavers sliced at his fur, but he was in full battle mode now, and he managed to get to shore with very few new cuts. The beavers didn’t follow him all the way onto the land. They don’t think we’re a real threat.The others seemed to be making it safely, too. The lake was red with their blood, but there was Petalfur—Toadfoot—Minnowtail— “Where’s Rippletail?” Petalfur gasped, spewing bloody water onto the ground. A terrified scream answered her question. Lionstorm spotted a beaver ramming Rippletail against the stacked trees that blocked the river. The already battered RiverClan warrior crumpled. “Rippletail,” Petalfur cried. Lionstorm braced himself to hold her back from jumping in the water, but she didn’t try. Instead she collapsed on the ground wailing. “Rippletail, no!” “I don’t know what to do,” Lionstorm informed the others. Icy shock started to settle in his chest. He had failed again. Minnowtail tried to console her Clanmate. Petalfur didn’t look any less upset, but she did calm down enough to walk back to their makeshift camp. Woody visited again that afternoon. Seeing their wounds, he asked, “What’d I tell you about trying to kill those beavers?” “Rippletail is dead,” Whitetail meowed. Woody blinked. “Oh. I’m sorry that happened to him. You can’t fight those things.” “We need to stop them,” said Toadfoot. “If we can’t fight them off, then how are we supposed to get rid of their things?” Whitetail lifted her tail. “I have an idea.” CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR ICEPAWIcepaw dove after the mouse. She caught it and killed it swiftly, then batted it into the air and watched it land with a thump. She wouldn’t normally play with her food like this, but she had wrestled Graypaw just before going to sleep, and she thought she deserved this time alone. The meadow was full of mice and flowers, and the greenleaf sun was warm on her pelt. A white tom bounced out of the tall grass, pelt bright and soft, and turned to look at her in surprise. “Hello. What are you doing here?” “Hunting.” Doubt started to creep into her pelt. “Is this your field? I can fight, you know.” He chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. I live over in a forest that direction.” She ducked, relieved. “That’s good. Who are you?” “My name is Snowtuft. You’re a good hunter.” Icepaw puffed out her chest, trying to look bigger without bushing out her fur. “I’m the best hunter of all the apprentices in the Clan.” He looked impressed. “That’s really something, isn’t it? I bet they’re all jealous of you.” “Well, not exactly.” Snowtuft cocked his head. “Why not? Are you not a good fighter or something?” She sighed. “Or something.” “Aw. Well, I’m all ears, if you want to talk about it,” he suggested, widening his gray eyes. “It’s just Dawnpaw. She saw a StarClan cat, and she gets to go on a really cool mission to fight big brown animals.” Snowtuft nodded sympathetically. “Well, how’d you like to meet a StarClan cat of your own?” “Really?” You’re not a kit, Icepaw, don’t bounce.He grinned sheepishly. “Well, here I am.” Icepaw stared. “You’re a StarClan cat?” “See my scar?” A dry scratch stretched from his ear to his belly. “I am dead.” “You aren’t full of stars.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s because you’re visiting me in my home instead of me visiting you in yours.” That made enough sense, so Icepaw mewed, “Do you have any prophecies to give me?” Snowtuft shook his head. “Mapleshade and—Swiftstar said I should talk to you, that’s all. They said you were having a bad time in WindClan. And maybe I could help you be the best warrior ever. Won’t Dawnpaw be jealous when you’re the best instead?” “You’re going to help me?” “Only if you keep me a secret,” he said hastily. “If anyone finds out about this, they might be mad that I didn’t talk to them, too.” Icepaw stretched. “Okay.” “I see great things for your future,” he added. “I thought you said you didn’t have any prophecies for me,” she teased. “Well, prophecies are fancy,” he protested. “I just mean that I think you’ll do a great job. Want to see the best way to catch a rabbit?” She followed him eagerly as he showed her different hunting crouches and demonstrated how to run as fast as possible. He said he was a WindClan cat long ago. “This is kind of a rough part of StarClan,” he mewed softly. “I live here so I can try to make a difference.” “Well, you’re making a difference for me,” she chirped, which made him smile. After a while, he told her it was time to wake up. “I’ll see you again, Icepaw; just remember not to tell anyone about me.” “I promise,” she mewed as Snowtuft and the field faded away. CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE DAWNPAWToadfoot gave a signal, and the three kittypets took off. Dawnpaw peered out from the bushes. Lionstorm put a paw in front of her, and she wrinkled her nose at him, but a silencing hiss stopped her from complaining. The beavers swam toward the kittypets. The cats waved their tails, howled battle cries, and darted to the shore and back onto grassy land; the beavers chattered angrily back and grudgingly followed them into the woods. “Now,” Whitetail hissed, and Woody and the Clan cats charged toward the stack of sticks blocking the lake water. Dawnpaw grimaced at the feel of the barely-drying mud and sharp twigs under her pawpads, but she set to work on dismantling it at once. Lionstorm swung fiercely at the wood. His strikes made the whole structure shudder, but it was much too sturdy to be destroyed. All he really managed to do was shake Tigerheart and Minnowtail into the water. Dawnpaw reached out her tail to Tigerheart, but he didn’t need her help to climb back up. “Lionstorm, the beavers,” Dawnpaw cried. There were more of them, and they swiftly approached the cats on their branch pile. Lionstorm and Minnowtail lunged for the closest beaver, and Dawnpaw breathed a sigh of relief. Minnowtail could avoid drowning while Lionstorm clawed the huge creatures from the safety of the sticks. She pulled stick after stick out of the muddy mass, ripping at it with her claws and teeth. Why am I so small? Between Dawnpaw and Jayfeather it was as if Lionstorm had gotten all of the size out of the Three. Something jolted the whole stick pile, and Dawnpaw clutched it tightly. Water was finally starting to splash over the top of it, threatening to pull her off. What if they remake their mud things? Dawnpaw had asked the night before. Whitetail had answered that by saying that if StarClan had sent her, this must be important and worthwhile, and that even if the beavers ever became a problem again at least the Clans would know how to deal with them. The beavers continued their attack on the cats, and Petalfur slid into the water to help Minnowtail. Don’t die like Rippletail, Dawnpaw wanted to beg both of them, but she had a mouthful of mud and wood. One beaver pulled itself onto the pile beside Ivytail and Dawnpaw. The ShadowClan warrior snarled and pounced on its face, kicking at its long, yellow teeth, but as the beaver turned, it knocked Dawnpaw down into the water. Help! She scrabbled for a hold on the slimy mud and felt a wooden splinter jab into her pawpad. Dawnpaw was nearly out of breath. She ripped her paw away and saw the dark blood swirl through the water. Some stuck to her white fur. Beavers blocked her path up. I’m going to die.Dawnpaw grabbed the stick in her jaws and yanked it. The whole stick structure creaked. She pulled again, and it came out. Water began to pour out of the lake and onto the other side. Dawnpaw put her forepaws in the hole she had made and tore it wider. More water blasted out of the opening, and she went with it. She heard Toadfoot shouting, Lionstorm losing his balance, Whitetail falling off the branches. Somehow she made it to the riverbank. Her ears were full of lakewater, and her whole body ached from impact and stung where the sticks had stabbed her. She was smeared with mud and blood. “There you are,” Lionstorm gasped. Dawnpaw swallowed the filthy water in her throat and began to cough. Whitetail put a cool paw on her pelt and helped her get all the water out. “Where is everyone else?” “They’re here,” Whitetail mewed. She pointed with her muzzle to where Toadfoot and Ivytail were digging Petalfur out from under a large branch. Tigerheart and Minnowtail lay nearby. “I don’t know what you did down there, but you saved us all,” Lionstorm meowed. Dawnpaw blinked. “I tore it all apart.” “And you did an excellent job.” They thanked Woody, Jigsaw, Snowdrop, and Seville and started home, padding down the banks of the swelling river. Tigerheart had not stopped showing off. Every cat was still distraught over losing Rippletail, but at least they had saved the Clans. CHAPTER NINETY-SIX HOLLYHEARTIt was just after sunhigh when Antpelt and Brackentail charged into camp proclaiming the water patrol’s return. Every cat had noticed the water sweeping into the lake, of course. The empty riverbed near ShadowClan territory had swollen, and Swallowtail and Sedgewhisker had nearly been dragged into the whirling swath of mud and dislodged debris. Onestar was out on patrol near the outer border of the territory, so it was Ashfoot who called the Clan to a meeting today. Hollyheart sighed and watched as Harespring padded eagerly over near the Tallrock. I thought you’d be on my side.Furzepaw and Whiskerpaw pelted out of the camp to greet the returning patrol. Hollyheart crept away toward the dirtplace tunnel. She glimpsed Lionstorm, Dawnpaw, and Whitetail; they looked battered and tired, but they were all alive. That settled it. There was no cat to grieve. She excused herself and left the camp. Wind buffeted her fur, carrying a faint scent of rain. Of course you’d come now, she thought, irritated. What use would Hollyheart be now? She could hunt, she supposed, but her paws were too heavy to chase after rabbits. Hollyheart walked all the way to the horseplace fence and lay down. I built my entire life on this prophecy.“You’re still upset,” Hazelpaw mewed. Hollyheart didn’t move, just turned her eyes up to see the gray-and-white she-cat. “No, I’m not. They’re all home safe.” She hadn’t convinced Hazelpaw. “You’re still mad about the apprentice.” “So?” Hollyheart lashed her tail. “Wouldn’t you be upset if a kit took your place? They don’t even talk to me anymore.” “Who don’t? Your brothers?” Hazelpaw leapt gracefully onto the ground. “Do you ever talk to them?” Hollyheart stared at her. “Well, I tried to talk to Jayfeather, but—but Lionstorm’s been gone,” she stammered. “It’s the same as the prophecy. Power of the stars or not, you have to act like a warrior and do things for yourself for a change. StarClan doesn’t always look out for you, you know. Bad things can still happen.” “Well, why don’t you do something?” Hollyheart snapped. “Something real, I mean, instead of sitting on your tails at the horseplace. Get ThunderClan back yourself if it’s so important.” She knew this was striking an unprepared belly with this one, but she had so much directionless anger that she didn’t care. Hazelpaw bristled. “Two cats don’t make a Clan, Hollyheart. Berryfur died over this.” “But what have you been doing?” “Learning to hunt and to fight,” Hazelpaw hissed. Hollyheart got to her feet. “I’m actually hunting and fighting.” “You have a Clan. I don’t.” She knew Hazelpaw was right, but she couldn’t bear to admit defeat, so she meowed, “I have a hunting patrol right now, actually,” and left. Certainly Hazelpaw would be smart enough to see through this, but Hollyheart didn’t care. After a couple of rabbits slipped through her paws, she settled for hunting smaller prey. A plover made an easy kill, and she carried it back to camp, feeling desolate. “Hollyheart! There you are!” Lionstorm bounded forward and dipped his head. “Just wait until you hear about the beavers.” “Yes, great job,” she muttered, shrinking away. He looked bewildered. “Don’t you want to know what happened? I was fighting the beavers, and Dawnpaw managed to br—” “That’s wonderful.” Hollyheart brushed past him, ignoring his dismay, and tromped into Kestrelflight’s den. He and Jayfeather were sorting herbs. He’s replaced me too.“Oh, hi,” Kestrelflight meowed warily. Hollyheart bit back a snarl. I’m becoming Breezepelt. Forcing herself to be polite, she mewed, “Is there any herb I can get for you?” He glanced nervously at Jayfeather. “Um, maybe you can get catmint. There’s some all the way out in that broken old Twoleg nest in the forest.” He’s sending me far away on purpose, she thought, but she nodded. Some more time alone will be a good thing.The catmint grew sparsely around the edge of the dilapidated Twoleg den. She gathered it up, allowing the juice to run down her throat. There was something about the flavor that brought back memories of being a kit. Of playing with her brothers and Whitetail’s and Mottlenose’s litters. Of throwing moss balls and getting into trouble. Once Harekit had dared her to eat poppy seeds. She had practically fallen asleep on her paws… I really am turning into Breezepelt. What could she do to stop it? She wasn’t a well-liked or respected warrior, and she wasn’t even able to save the Clans. Her brother’s apprentice mattered more than she did. And now she had snapped at Hazelpaw, Lionstorm, and Kestrelflight. She had destroyed every relationship she had. No wonder StarClan didn’t want her. CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN ICEPAW“Oh, Icepaw, thank goodness I found you.” Tigerstar’s flanks heaved. Icepaw waited for him to catch his breath. The huge dark brown tabby quickly regained his composure, but his voice was still dry as he panted, “This is an emergency. You must tell Onestar at once.” “What is?” she asked, eyes widening. “Blackstar. He’s planning to take your territory. He wants to cut away slices of it, bit by bit, until you’ve got no place to go.” “What can I do?” she whimpered. Tigerstar paced back and forth, claws like brambles tearing at the earth. “Tell him—tell him you had a sign from StarClan, only it wasn’t me who sent it, okay? Snowtuft and Sparrowfeather and I have got to remain a secret. Who could possibly have sent you?” he fretted. She wrinkled her nose. “Well, why can’t I say it was you?” “I wasn’t a WindClan cat, and I’m afraid Snowtuft and Sparrowfeather would both like to forget their pasts. Let’s see, let’s see—oh! What about Heatherstar?” “Heatherstar?” Tigerstar nodded. “Heatherstar was leader before Tallstar. She was a proud cat and a very warm shade of gray.” “What did she tell me?” Icepaw mewed. “Showed. She showed you the freshly rejuvenated river over near ShadowClan territory—running red with blood, WindClan blood. Blackstar’s pelt, red with the same. Can you tell Onestar that?” “Yes.” Icepaw almost licked her lips. Dawnpaw saw Tallstar and beavers. I saw Heatherstar and blood. Surely the Clans would have sought out the beavers eventually; no cat would be expecting Blackstar to invade. Tigerstar showed her a few slightly more advanced battle moves; once their training session was over, he reminded her of the ‘vision’ she supposedly had. She woke up to find that it was a remarkably cool day for this time of greenleaf. The air was brisk and bright on her whiskers. Icepaw skittered to Onestar’s den. Peering into the crevice, she called, “Onestar? Are you there?” “Yes,” he meowed, sounding a bit put off. “StarClan talked to me,” she said. It felt good to finally have someone to share this with, even if she couldn’t tell the whole truth. He sighed. “Are you trying to follow in Dawnpaw’s pawsteps?” “No!” Icepaw bristled. “I talked to Heatherstar, and she showed me that ShadowClan wants to kill us.” She described what she had supposedly seen, and Onestar actually looked alarmed. “I suppose there’s only one thing to do, then,” he said, and Icepaw suspected he was feigning his boldness. Weaselfur summoned her to train. He knew some of the moves Snowtuft, Sparrowfeather, and Tigerstar had taught her, but he was a little clumsier than her in their execution. Icepaw liked to think he had learned them from her. About when Ashfoot should have been arranging the evening patrols, Onestar jumped onto the Tallrock and yowled, “Let all cats six moons on join before the Tallrock for a Clan meeting!” Icepaw scrambled to sit right at the base of the rock. Onestar announced that she had foreseen ShadowClan invading WindClan. Icepaw glanced at Dawnpaw, but she looked more curious than upset. StarClan, Dawnpaw, can’t you be just a little sensitive? I’ve just one-upped you, haven’t I?They were to wait near the border for a ShadowClan patrol. “And we must all thank StarClan; they’ve certainly been helping us out a lot lately.” Kestrelflight looked embarrassed but said nothing. Onestar gathered most of the Clan to travel to the ShadowClan border. Icepaw couldn’t wait to show off what she had learned in a real fight. She kept low to the ground, knowing how visible her white pelt would be in the forest. It wasn’t long before they spotted a rather large ShadowClan patrol. The enemy noticed them, too. Icepaw vaguely recognized Ratscar and his apprentice Pinepaw. She had seen Crowfrost and Rowanclaw at Gatherings, but she didn’t recognize the other three cats. “What are you doing here?” Onestar growled. “This is our border; we are patrolling it,” Crowfrost mewed coolly. “It is interesting to note that WindClan’s numbers are so large they can call this a border patrol.” Onestar bristled. “Tell Blackstar to keep his paws off WindClan’s territory.” “We know what you’re trying to do,” Weaselfur spat. “And what is that?” Crowfrost padded right up to the border. “What are we trying to do, other than patrol?” He pointed one paw to the forest behind, and Pinepaw scurried away. “You’re here to take away our home again,” growled Onestar, “just like Brokenstar did.” Rowanclaw stalked forward quickly, shoving Crowfrost aside. “No cat is looking to take your territory away. That’s your business, isn’t it?” “ShadowClan has enough land. We aren’t greedy foxhearts,” Ratscar hissed. Pinepaw returned now with what looked like all of ShadowClan on her heels. Onestar stiffened. “Attack!” Icepaw flung herself into battle, lashing at Pinepaw with all her might. ShadowClan would regret their scheming soon. CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT LIONSTORMLionstorm was in his element. He was surprised that Icepaw had been the one to find this out. Dawnpaw had faked her StarClan vision; it would have made much more sense for Kestrelflight to have received the sign. Not that Lionstorm cared. He dug his claws into a black-and-white pelt. Crowfrost. Lionstorm tossed Crowfrost to the ground. The ShadowClan warrior got to his paws, but Lionstorm crashed into him, slamming him down again. “Stay out,” Lionstorm hissed through his teeth. This reminded him of the mountain invaders. That had been the first time he’d really loved the fight. He had been an unaware apprentice, and Tigerstar had whispered advice the whole time. Now he was alone and fighting stronger than ever. Lionstorm snarled and brought his paws down on Snowbird’s head as she bit his tail. “Get off me!” She staggered back, dazed, and hissed wordlessly back. He spotted Breezepelt and Ivytail, each with their claws wrapped around the other’s neck, teeth gnashing. Lionstorm hooked a paw around the ShadowClan queen and wrested her to the ground, flashing a grin at Breezepelt that he hoped would be taken as goodnatured. Another cat was on Lionstorm’s shoulders now, digging at the wounds he had received from the beavers. He rolled to squish them, but they hopped aside. It was Applefur. The mottled brown warrior raked her claws across his muzzle. Like a little kit. In her rage she didn’t notice that she drew no blood. Applefur performed a move that resembled one Tigerstar had taught him. Her claws did no damage, but her strong kick made his side ache. Lionstorm struck at her, and she shrieked and turned tail—straight into Breezepelt’s claws. Get her good.As Lionstorm fought, he was less and less aware of his Clanmates around him. The pelts and blood were one dizzying, colorful blur. Lionstorm couldn’t tell if he was spinning or if it was all in his head. An exposed throat, a weak ankle, a whipping tail. Targets presented themselves willingly, and he lunged for them. The blood in his throat tasted better than any freshkill. It was warm, too, cozy. “Help,” Graypaw squawked. Lionstorm rammed his head into Smokefoot’s jaw, sending him tumbling to the ground. He sprang over the gray-and-white apprentice and crashed onto Smokefoot. The ShadowClan cat wailed. Ratscar pulled Lionstorm backward, just managing to get ahold of Lionstorm’s skin despite being unable to pierce it. Lionstorm slashed at the brown warrior, cutting his already patchy pelt to shreds. Once Ratscar retreated, Lionstorm whirled to find another warrior to face. Russetfur had her teeth in Onestar’s throat. Is he dying?He could not waste time finding out. Lionstorm charged at the ShadowClan deputy and pounced on her. She crumpled to the ground beneath his paws, a chunk of Onestar’s flesh still in her jaws. Lionstorm lifted his head up. Onestar stumbled back, fell down, and went still. “You killed Russetfur,” someone growled. Owlclaw.He looked down. She really had been ancient. Her muzzle was silver, and her pelt was streaked with white. She must have been older than Tornear, he thought numbly. Part of him still surged with excitement, buzzing with energy, and the forest tipped back and forth around him, but he fought to hold it back. No more fighting today.“She’s dead,” Cedarheart snarled. “She killed Onestar,” hissed Lionstorm. Cedarheart lashed his tail. “Onestar provoked the fight in the first place. Russetfur was an honorable warrior.” Using the last of his energy, Lionstorm forced down his urge to fight, blinking against the sudden pain and sickness in his chest. “Silence, Cedarheart. You’ll only incite more fighting,” Blackstar growled. “This battle never needed to be fought.” The gray tom reluctantly stepped down, licking his bloodstained fur and growling. “Warriors die in battle all the time,” Lionstorm protested weakly. “She should have been in the elders’ den anyway,” jeered Weaselfur. Onestar slowly and painstakingly rose to his paws. “Blackstar, we have defeated you. Honor this defeat and remember it every time you think of invading us. This forest belongs to WindClan.” “StarClan will be the final judge,” Blackstar meowed. “Come on, back to camp.” He picked up Russetfur’s frail corpse and carried her away into the pines. “An honorable warrior does not need to kill, unless it is necessary to defend one’s Clan, or their target is outside of the warrior code,” Hollyheart lectured him. “If Russetfur wanted to steal our territory, then she was outside the code. And she killed Onestar.” Lionstorm hadn’t completely forgiven Hollyheart for how rude she’d been at his return. Breezepelt almost looked impressed. “You actually killed her. I bet Jayfeather’s going to throw a fit over this.” He didn’t mention Lionstorm ripping Ivytail away from him, but Lionstorm thought he caught a flash of gratitude in his half-brother’s amber eyes. Lionstorm bared his teeth. “You know me.” CHAPTER NINETY-NINE JAYFEATHERJayfeather wasn’t dreaming.Most of his surroundings were as blank as they always were, but he could see the blood on the ground. WindClan blood. It streamed toward him, sloshing and bubbling around his paws like a brook in newleaf. Its stench filled his nostrils, thick enough to make him choke, but no one around him seemed to notice. And he could see Icepaw. She stood at the source of the river of blood, white pelt glittering and gleaming in the sun, somehow cold despite the heat of the day and the blood gushing from beneath. Jayfeather stared. Now he could see his Clanmates, stooped and dying. Their pelts were sticky with blood, and their ears were slicked back against the frost. He shivered, and Icepaw and the blood disappeared from his vision. He still smelled the nasty stuff. “You okay, Jayfeather?” Kestrelflight murmured, touching his nose to Jayfeather’s ear. Jayfeather wasn’t sure how to answer. “Yes,” he said hesitantly. “If you’re ever not okay, you’ll tell me, right?” “It isn’t me; it’s Icepaw,” Jayfeather whispered. Kestrelflight was confused. “She looks okay, I think. What happened?” He shook his head. “She’s not hurt.” “What’s that mean?” Jayfeather sighed. “I don’t know, exactly. Something isn’t right.” “Well, thanks for telling me something’s wrong.” Kestrelflight licked his cheek. “I’ll keep an eye out.” It’s too late, Jayfeather wanted to tell him. She’s going to kill us all.Wasn’t that similar to what Icepaw herself had seen? A river of WindClan blood? Maybe it wasn’t ShadowClan’s fault after all. Her vision was coming true after all. If it was even real. Why wouldn’t StarClan tell Kestrelflight or one of the Three? Jayfeather’s pelt prickled, and he reached his mind out to Icepaw’s. She was fuming. Something had not gone her way. Jayfeather strained to listen to her thoughts; she was upset over Dawnpaw, it seemed. Fair enough.Icepaw was remembering something. She padded through a dark forest, and there was a gargantuan tabby. He could only be Tigerstar. Jayfeather swallowed and kept listening. Icepaw’s mind retraced bits and pieces of a conversation. “Tigerstar told her to do it,” Jayfeather whispered. Kestrelflight was busy with his own duties. Tornear had finally left the medicine den and resumed his warrior duties, but his joints were stiff, and Kestrelflight was always padding after him with poultices of daisy leaves. Sunstrike was expecting kits, and she needed herbs sometimes to ensure they would be born healthy. “Dawnpaw,” he called. His apprentice said goodbye to Furzepaw and bounded excitedly to him. Quit acting like a kit. This is serious.He led her down a tunnel she’d never been to before. At least, she’d better not have explored without my permission. StarClan knows what she could get into down here. “Dawnpaw, I need to talk to you about Icepaw.” “I can’t believe she saw a real StarClan cat,” Dawnpaw breathed. “Me neither. In fact, I don’t believe it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I think that ‘sign’ she saw was a lie.” “Oh.” Dawnpaw was quiet for a moment. “Well, I lied about mine…” “You saw through the beavers’ eyes. She talked to Tigerstar.” Dawnpaw didn’t answer. Jayfeather concentrated on seeing her thoughts. She was watching through Graypaw’s eyes. Layers on layers.“Dawnpaw, this is serious. Tigerstar is a very bad cat.” She flinched. “Icepaw wouldn’t—” “I saw it, Dawnpaw. I saw it in her mind. And I saw blood; Icepaw is going to lead WindClan to our deaths.” “You and Lionstorm are always so wrapped up in your prophecies,” she muttered. She said it so quietly that Jayfeather didn’t think she had intended for him to hear. “There’s a reason for that,” he said, and she gasped. “The prophecies aren’t just words; they’re the future. If we don’t listen to StarClan, then what good is being a Clan? Tigerstar used Lionstorm once, and—” “And he turned out okay, didn’t he?” Dawnpaw snapped. “You’re a couple of bossy old furballs if you think—” “I am your mentor,” Jayfeather roared. “You are under oath to obey me.” “I didn’t take any oath for you,” she hissed. “I said I’d protect my Clan, and that’s all. Icepaw is my Clanmate, too, and I like her a whole lot more than you.” “For StarClan’s sake, will you ever stop being a kit?” She gave a few offended vrrs, turned, and pelted away down the tunnel. “You can’t go that way,” Jayfeather cried, his anger displaced by his fear. He chased after his apprentice. “Stop! Dawnpaw, no cat’s been through that entrance since—” He stopped shouting; it was easier to run without distractions. He caught up with her, grabbed her by the scruff, and dragged her kicking and wailing to the surface. Her flailing hind claws dislodged little chunks of soil from the tunnel walls. It needs maintenance, but it’ll be safe for now, he thought. I’ll get Ashfoot on it this evening.“Don’t you ever do that again,” Jayfeather growled through a mouthful of fur. Dawnpaw went limp. “Let me go.” “First, promise me that you’re going to take your duties as a warrior—and as one of the Three—seriously.” She waited for several heartbeats before agreeing. “Fine.” “And be sure your attitude improves.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ICEPAW“You’re a very fast learner,” Snowtuft mewed earnestly. Icepaw licked her chest fur flat. “I know. Weaselfur can’t keep up.” Jayfeather had been giving her some very hostile looks the last few days; she was certain Dawnpaw had something to do with it. Her sister had done nothing but show her up since their apprenticeship; now there were warriors in on it, too. “Are you ready to start training with your claws?” Tigerstar asked. There was a harsh glint to his eyes that Icepaw had never seen before. He probably just didn’t like the idea of hurting his apprentices. “Yeah.” He led her and Snowtuft to a clearing in the dense forest. It wasn’t bright and sunny like the one where she had first met the white warrior. Somehow it was even darker than the surrounding underbrush—maybe that was where the light came from after all. “You see him, up on the stump?” Icepaw nodded. The cat atop the stump looked scrawny and hungry, but his muscular legs and powerful shoulders spoke moons about his experience in battle. “That’s Shredtail. In a short while, we will gather many of the living cats who train here in the Valley of No Stars, as well as some of our residents,” Tigerstar meowed. “The goal is to knock Shredtail off that stump. Beware: he is an excellent fighter.” Icepaw waited as cats began to appear. Weaselfur, Antpelt, Breezepelt, and Sunstrike were among the WindClan trainees; she thought she’d seen Furzepaw here once or twice. She didn’t know most of the RiverClan or ShadowClan cats, but she recognized Ratscar, Redwillow, Tigerheart, Minnowtail, and Hawkstar. “What’s a Clan leader need this for?” she whispered to Snowtuft, who just shrugged and pointed his muzzle toward the stump. Hawkstar didn’t line up to fight Shredtail; he went to sit near a group of dead cats. Tigerstar went over the rules. It was a free-for-all amongst the cats on the ground; the entire goal was to knock Shredtail down. Cats were encouraged to fight dirty against their fellow trainees. “I understand the importance of the code in all our hearts, but we must also remember that victory comes before all else,” Tigerstar explained. Makes sense. Tigerstar gave a short, sharp meow, and Icepaw surged forward with the others. The stump had dry, peeling bark that stabbed between Icepaw’s claws. A white RiverClan cat stepped on her face, shoving her down to the ground and making her spine hurt. Snowtuft himself participated. There was a cold light in his gray eyes that suggested he was thoroughly engaged in the fight; Icepaw didn’t recognize this side of him. He must have been caught up in the excitement. Icepaw jumped up and caught the top of the stump with her claws, but Shredtail’s hind feet immediately slammed down on her paws. She squeaked and released her grip, tumbling to the ground alongside an angrily spitting Ratscar. Weaselfur made it to the top of the stump. Go, mentor, she thought unenthusiastically, scrambling back up to attack Shredtail while he was distracted, but he clocked Weaselfur in the face with a forepaw and kicked Icepaw away with a hind paw without missing a beat. Icepaw felt herself tiring after two more attempts. Shredtail could give Lionstorm a run for his freshkill.Finally a translucent brown tabby managed to wrap her paws around Shredtail’s haunches and wrench him backward off the stump. “I did it,” she panted, getting to her paws with a wince. “No, you did not,” a gray-and-white tom growled. He rose from his seat next to Hawkstar and Tigerstar. “Wha’? Thistleclaw?” The tabby blinked a few times, clearing her head. “I got ’im off the stump, didn’ I?” “You dragged him off. The instructions were to knock him off, not pull him.” Thistleclaw advanced on her, and Icepaw was actually afraid for the little tabby’s safety. She had seen this cat fighting Silverhawk before. He was terrifying. “Sorry.” “Not ‘sorry,’ Sparrowfeather. It’s your turn on that stump.” He flicked his tail toward the ragged stump. That’s not fair, Icepaw thought, but she knew if she said it aloud there would be consequences. “It’s fine, Icepaw,” said Silverhawk, noticing her concern. “Sparrowfeather is already dead, remember?” Icepaw relaxed. You can’t die again.“Already dead. That’s right,” Breezepelt muttered. He flung himself into the fray. It didn’t take long for Sparrowfeather to be kicked off the stump. She landed off in the bushes. Tigerstar congratulated Minnowtail for beating her and sent Shredtail up onto the stump again. No cat managed to knock Shredtail down, but Icepaw tried her hardest. No matter how many times she fell down, she would not quit; a warrior would never stop fighting. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE DAWNPAWGraypaw and Icepaw wouldn’t sleep by Dawnpaw, so she curled up with her back against Cloudpaw’s and lay there, hoping to fall asleep soon. The sky above her was cloudless, and she could have sworn she saw a flying star. She didn’t know how long it was before she finally managed to close her eyes for good. She opened them to a pitch-black meadow. Before her was a stretch of messy, dry, prickly grass. Beyond it she could see a dim forest, a pale, sickly light revealing rough trees. Dawnpaw padded cautiously toward the forest, but when she looked up, she saw no stars. “That’s funny,” she said, gnawing at her lip. She didn’t like this forest. So instead of walking all the way to the forest, she trotted parallel to it, keeping a safe distance from the trees. A small brook ran through the field, but its water was dark and slimy; it flowed about as well as blood would. Icepaw didn’t make it up, she told herself, but it was harder to trust anyone out here in this cold dark field. She wouldn’t do that to me.But then why was Icepaw so angry at Dawnpaw? I never did anything to her! Jayfeather couldn’t possibly be any nicer than Weaselfur, and Icepaw was a much better fighter. As far as Icepaw knew, both of them had met StarClan cats. The only difference between them was Dawnpaw’s power, and Icepaw didn’t know anything about that. Dawnpaw didn’t want to keep going forward. This was the kind of place where it would feel only natural for a sudden gaping pit to open up underneath her paws or for a horde of badgers to erupt out of a sett. But she also didn’t want to hold still; she had a feeling that the place would not like her to stop, and she nearly shrieked as she imagined swarms of bugs tunneling into her pelt. No thank you, StarClan!She wasn’t brave enough to run. Crawling forward at this pace was almost worse. Paw by paw she dragged herself through the meadow. I wonder where I am. She sniffed the air, but there was very little to smell. Faint traces of an unpleasant scent drifted toward her. She gagged. It didn’t look like there was anyone else here. By the time she got to the edge of the field she had realized what was really wrong. There were no crickets chirping, no moths fluttering around the moon, no mice scurrying through the grass. Now that she had reached the boundary, Dawnpaw could see a huge swath of land before her. The shadows surrounding her stretched down to meet light. The painfully dark fields and forests faded into a starry pine forest. “StarClan!” she squealed, forgetting where she was for a moment and bounding toward the border. Her paws found loose stones, then empty air. She skidded down the hill and landed in a heap at the bottom. Dawnpaw picked herself up, licking the sore spots. Don’t be such a mousebrain. She could almost hear Jayfeather’s incessant lecturing. A single misstep can cost you your life. Don’t let anything happen to you. The Clans will die without your help. Oh no. If this was all so important to StarClan, they wouldn’t let her die. Dawnpaw’s mind wandered to Icepaw again. I hope she doesn’t hate me forever. I believe her.Then she was seeing through someone else’s eyes. Probably Icepaw, but the cat wasn’t looking down enough for her to see much at all. Whoever it was was apparently somewhere in this blackness, because there was very little light to see where they were going. Dawnpaw slowed down as she walked; seeing two of the same place was a little strange. That’s me! A little calico cat came into the other cat’s view. “Who’s there?” she called, pricking up her ears. The other cat lunged forward, and Dawnpaw saw herself turning at the same time as she saw her attacker leap. “Icepaw,” she cried. Icepaw’s claws ripped into her flesh. “What are you doing here?” the white cat hissed. “What do you want here?” Dawnpaw tried to push her sister away, but she didn’t know any of the moves she was using, and Icepaw was stronger anyway. “Icepaw, please, listen,” she begged. “You’re hurting me.” “You don’t belong here,” Icepaw snarled. “Leave me alone.” “Stop it, Icepaw.” Dawnpaw kicked at her sister, catching her in the ribs and knocking her aside just for a moment. “Stop ruining my life!” Icepaw’s claws tore into Dawnpaw’s fur again, and she flailed to throw Icepaw away again. Her paw hit something in the air, and she woke to find that she had slapped a rock on the WindClan camp floor. The ground beneath her was covered in her own blood. “Help!” she wailed, the fading echoes of Icepaw’s furious hisses turning to ringing in her ears. |
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:40:14 GMT -5
 CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWOJAYFEATHER</span>Dawnpaw’s frantic wailing woke Jayfeather from a dream about the Tribe of Endless Hunting. He smelled the blood, and this time it was real. Kestrelflight pelted to Dawnpaw’s side. “What happened?” he barked. “You need to get to the medicine den. This way—” Tawnyfur came up out of the elders’ badger sett and helped Kestrelflight carry Dawnpaw to the medicine den. Jayfeather followed. She’s been to that dark forest, hasn’t she?Kestrelflight ordered Tawnyfur away, saying he needed space. She protested, “Dawnpaw is my daughter, and I want to see her safe,” but Kestrelflight repeated that he needed her gone. Dawnpaw licked her fur as clean as she could. Jayfeather scooped up the cobwebs and waited while the medicine cat applied herbs to his apprentice’s wounds, then patted the webs onto her. “You’ll be okay,” Kestrelflight finally mewed. Jayfeather relaxed. He hadn’t even noticed how tense his whole body had been, and now he was exhausted. “What time is it?” Kestrelflight padded to the entrance to the den. He didn’t even notice the color of the sky, Jayfeather thought, twitching his whiskers. “It’ll be sunup fairly soon,” Kestrelflight called. As he padded back to Dawnpaw and began sorting through the herbs again, he mewed, “Dawnpaw, what happened to you?” “This is just like with Thistlepaw,” said Jayfeather. “I know. We still haven’t figured out what happened there,” Kestrelflight pointed out. “It’s just like what Barkface said the last time. We can’t stop this from happening if we don’t know what it was.” “I do know what it was,” Jayfeather whispered. “No you don’t,” Dawnpaw slurred from her mossy nest. Jayfeather sighed. “You have the smell of the Place of No Stars on you.” “Well, I don’t know how it got there,” she hissed. “Who attacked you?” Kestrelflight tried. Dawnpaw said nothing. “You need to tell us who hurt you.” Jayfeather padded closer. “If you don’t tell us, we can’t protect the Clan.” “Clan is fine,” she muttered. “Perfectly safe.” Jayfeather opened his mouth to snap at her, but Kestrelflight laid his tail across Jayfeather’s muzzle. “I’m sorry, Dawnpaw. Was it another cat who hurt you?” She didn’t respond. “Was it a WindClan cat?” he pressed. “I don’t know who it was.” She huffed, and Jayfeather stifled his urge to reprimand her for it. “Probably not even real. My mind made it up.” “Your mind didn’t make up the blood,” Kestrelpaw said gravely. “Your mind didn’t make up the claws that did this to you.” “Whatever.” “Who was it?” Jayfeather hissed, losing his patience. Dawnpaw flipped her tail out of the nest and onto the ground. “I dunno. You talk to StarClan. Ask Thistlepaw.” He tried to see her memories, but her stubborn thoughts obscured the dream entirely. You wanted me to keep everything a secret, so that’s what I’m doing, her mind said. She was such a kit. “I haven’t seen her,” Kestrelflight whimpered. “Barkface says she’s there, but she doesn’t like to talk to other cats much.” Dawnpaw lapsed into sleep, and Jayfeather took Kestrelflight aside. “Look, there’s something important that I think it’s time you knew.” “Okay.” He’s going to listen to me, just like that? “I think I know what happened to Dawnpaw, and I think I know why, too. Did you ever notice that the bad cats—like Brokenstar and Tigerstar—don’t go to StarClan?” Kestrelflight drew in a loud breath. “I thought they disappeared altogether. Is there another place?” Jayfeather nodded. “The Place of No Stars. I went there once. A StarClan cat found me before I could get hurt.” “Well, I’m glad you’re safe,” Kestrelflight mewed, touching his muzzle to Jayfeather’s. “Why do they want Dawnpaw?” “There’s a prophecy.” The Three aren’t enough, Yellowfang said. Please let this be what she meant.“About Dawnpaw?” “Yes, and about Lionstorm. And me. That place she went, the Place of No Stars, the cats there are training warriors to fight. I don’t know what they want exactly, but it can’t be good.” “Maybe revenge,” suggested Kestrelflight. “They all died, and we’re alive, and they don’t like that?” “Could be.” Jayfeather’s pelt still pricked with misgivings. “Just make sure she’s safe, all right?” “Don’t worry. You can count on me.” Jayfeather dipped his head and returned to the camp clearing. Dawnpaw needed to recover, for the sake of all four of the Clans. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREEICEPAWIcepaw had not forgiven herself for attacking Dawnpaw. She had thought when she’d leapt that it was just a dream. Maybe that didn’t excuse her viciousness, but cats were different in dreams, weren’t they? “C’mere, Icepaw,” Graypaw shouted, and she joined him on the rocky outcropping. “I found rabbit dens.” “Really?” She sniffed at the ground. There was a strong smell of rabbit here, but she didn’t see any warren entrances. Then Cloudpaw popped out of the ground. “Hello.” They jerked their muzzle back. “Yes, rabbits live here.” “Graypaw, where are you?” It was Nightcloud’s voice, and she sounded panicked. “Graypaw?” “I’ve gotta go,” he grunted, and Graypaw dashed away to find his mentor. “Gorsetail is on patrol,” Cloudpaw informed Icepaw. She nodded. “I saw him leave.” When Weaselfur called her for training, she found herself facing down Whiskerpaw. “You’re smaller than him, but you’re ahead in your training,” Weaselfur explained, narrowing his yellowish-green eyes. “I’m sure you won’t disappoint me.” Place of No Stars if I care about disappointing you, she thought, but she really did care. “Good luck,” Owlwhisker meowed. Icepaw waited for Whiskerpaw to spring. When he did, she ducked under him and jumped upward, catching his belly with her head and knocking the wind out of him. It didn’t take much longer to pin him down, and Whiskerpaw and Owlwhisker both looked surprised. “You’ve become an excellent fighter,” Owlwhisker meowed. “Soon you’ll be up there with Lionstorm.” To Whiskerpaw he said, “You did a pretty good job, but you have to remember that your opponent may know moves with which you are unfamiliar. Nice moves, by the way, Weaselfur. You think you could teach me those sometime?” Weaselfur shrugged, and Whiskerpaw nodded sheepishly. Icepaw sparred with Weaselfur while Whiskerpaw trained alongside Furzepaw. Weaselfur managed to beat her, though the battle was far closer than it should have been between a mentor and an apprentice. She and Furzepaw shared a mouse. Dawnpaw must not have told the gray-and-white she-cat that Icepaw had been the one to hurt her, because Furzepaw was still completely friendly. “Heathertail says she doesn’t know how I’ve gotten so good at fighting,” Furzepaw boasted. “You’re lucky Weaselfur’s got Silverhawk, too. I don’t know if I’m learning anything with Heathertail.” “Weaselfur’s a jerk,” Icepaw complained. Furzepaw shrugged. “Heathertail’s moony over Lionstorm. It balances out.” “You can’t be serious.” Icepaw glared across the camp at Lionstorm. “He’s not worth any of that.” Just because Onestar likes sending him on missions doesn’t make him anything special.Furzepaw’s eyes widened. “Wanna know what I heard from, um, my mentor?” “What?” “Lionstorm used to train there, too. Only he flipped out and left. That’s why he can fight so well.” Icepaw gasped. “No way.” Furzepaw nodded very seriously. Icepaw stretched out on the grass near Graypaw to sleep. Dawnpaw flopped down beside her, pressing her spine against Icepaw’s. What do you want? Icepaw scooted away. “What do you want from me?” Dawnpaw whispered. That’s what I want to know. Did she not remember? No. Even if you don’t know what happened, all that means is you haven’t learned your lesson. Mouse off.She thought she could feel Jayfeather looking at her. But that was silly; Jayfeather couldn’t see. You can eat a nettle, you nosy fleapelt.It had been a few days since she’d last been to the Valley of No Stars. Snowtuft praised her battle skills. He seemed upset when Icepaw told him about her fight with Dawnpaw. “Well, you didn’t kill her,” he pointed out. “If she doesn’t remember, that means no harm to your relationship, right?” “I don’t like her,” Icepaw reminded him. “Or Jayfeather. He’s a sour old moth-head.” His gray eyes clouded. “Do you think you’ll ever be friends again?” Icepaw pondered this for a moment, then shook her head vehemently. “When I’m the best warrior in the Clan, she’ll be picking ticks off Morningflower and Leafpool and thinking how stuck up she always was. She’ll realize what a pain she’s always been and she’ll finally see she was wrong. Dawnpaw won’t like that at all.” This might have been a bit too strong, but if even an all-out battle wouldn’t deter Dawnpaw, what would? Her mentor still seemed worried. “And you’re going to do this how?” “By training to be the strongest warrior I can be,” she mewed resolutely. Snowtuft looked appeased. “That’s right.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURHOLLYHEARTIcewing’s long claws dug into Hollyheart’s pelt. “Bet you wish you’d run,” the RiverClan warrior taunted. “Can’t you give this a rest?” Hollyheart snarled, slashing at Icewing’s fur. “This is WindClan land.” “I thought you weren’t WindClan.” Icewing bit Hollyheart’s shoulder, and she rolled to shake her off. Hollyheart swung at the RiverClan cat. Her claws sank deep into soft, sleek fur, and warm blood bubbled up onto her pawpads. “Don’t ever say that again.” Otterheart headbutted Hollyheart, who stumbled aside a few steps and prepared to pounce again. Icewing hissed and flashed out her paws, catching Hollyheart off guard and knocking her to the ground. Now pinned, there was little the black warrior could do but pummel her assailant with her hind paws. You aren’t even an experienced warrior, Hollyheart thought with alarm. How are you so good at fighting?“We can’t fight them all,” she heard Crowfeather gasp. We have to.“I’m not giving it up,” Brackentail roared, wrestling a pale tortoiseshell tom to the ground. “We’ve got to win.” “We can’t do it,” Crowfeather said more urgently as he dodged Pinefur’s blows. “We have to get to camp.” “This is a matter of life and death,” Hollyheart choked. Icewing slapped her across the face, claws nearly hitting her eyes. “Listen to your daughter, Crowfeather.” “I am the senior warrior. WindClan, retreat,” he barked. “Run on back to your camp, then,” Icewing whispered. “If you can bear to live with the cats who killed your family.” Hollyheart longed to bury her teeth in Icewing’s throat, but she reluctantly slunk away. Brackentail was less easily convinced. “He killed Mottlenose,” he growled, pointing his muzzle toward the pale cat he had been fighting. Hollyheart recognized him as Robinwing. “You’re still alive,” Robinwing hissed. “I could fix it if you want to keep fighting.” Otterheart nodded, narrowing her eyes. “We’re more than willing to continue.” “We are leaving,” Crowfeather snapped. “Come here, Hollyheart, Brackentail.” “Well, time to hunt,” said Pinefur brightly. “You can’t hunt on our territory,” Hollyheart objected. “Go back to RiverClan.” Pinefur shrugged. “We already told you. Try and stop us.” Crowfeather’s tail hit Hollyheart’s ear. Her father flinched; he seemed to have a tail injury that gave him trouble occasionally. “This is a battle that will be impossible for us to win,” he growled softly. “Retreat is our only option.” She followed him back to camp having never identified more with Brackentail in her life. Kestrelflight treated their wounds with Jayfeather and Cloudpaw’s help. Are they taking my place now too? What was with Tawnyfur’s kits? “Onestar’s going to crack down on the RiverClan border now for sure,” Kestrelflight meowed. “He’s been saying he would for ages. Ever since…they started being a problem.” Ever since Emberfoot got hurt, you mean? “It’s my fault we lost,” she whispered. He blinked, then gave her a suspicious look. “What does that mean?” “I’m not good enough,” she growled. “I’m bad at everything.” “Aw, that’s not true,” he assured her. “You’re a good hunter and a good fighter. Plus you’re really fast.” “I’m only fast because Weaselfur hated me. That doesn’t count. It’s almost worse.” Jayfeather thrust his muzzle into her face. “Shut up, Hollyheart. No one wants to listen to all this. Crowfeather and Brackentail lost that battle just as much as you did.” She shook her head before remembering he might not realize what she was doing. “Crowfeather and Brackentail,” she whispered just loudly enough for her brother to hear, “never had a prophecy hanging over their heads.” Jayfeather sighed. “Being a regular warrior isn’t a bad thing.” “Easy for you to say. You’ve never been one.” She left before Kestrelflight could check the dressing on her wounds. Harespring padded up to her, head low but muzzle upturned. “Do you want to go hunting, just us?” he mewed, green eyes eager. “I’m not a good hunter,” she snapped. Mouse dung! I can’t be rude to Harespring. “I’ll still go with you if you think it’ll be a good idea,” she offered. “Yeah, okay.” He looked confused, but Hollyheart didn’t have the energy to explain that her outburst had nothing to do with him. He’s smart. He’ll figure it out, won’t he?He thinks I’m part of the prophecy, she realized. Once they were a safe distance from camp, she took a deep breath and said, “Remember that day we went to see Sol, and I promised to tell you about something?” Harespring nodded. “Some prophecy about you and your brothers, right?” Will he still care for me if I’m a normal warrior? “I, well—it might not be us three.” It’s too late to lie now.He tipped his head to the side. “How do you know that?” “The three cats in the prophecy are supposed to be special somehow.” “Is this why you said you were bad at things?” he mewed, realization dawning in his gaze. “Hollyheart, that’s okay. Most cats aren’t in prophecies.” “And I’m just like most cats,” she laughed, lashing her tail. “Completely and totally ordinary.” “No, that’s not what I meant,” he protested. “It doesn’t say anything about a cat if they’re in a prophecy or not. So what if StarClan didn’t foretell your whole future? All that means is you’ve got a whole life that you get to make for yourself.” “I want to believe you,” she said, “but it isn’t that simple. The Clans are in danger.” “From what?” She shook her head, debating how much to tell him. “Spirits, like StarClan, but the bad ones. I don’t know what they want, but…” “It’s okay.” Harespring touched his nose to her ear. “I’m still here for you.” “Let’s hunt.” Her conversation with Harespring should have calmed her nerves, she knew, but somehow it only made her more jittery. Maybe the Three could defeat the Place of No Stars, but most cats couldn’t, and where did that leave her? CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVEDAWNPAWTigerheart’s rough tongue rasped over Dawnpaw’s ear. “I can’t believe you managed to sneak all the way out here.” It was easy, really. All I had to do was listen through the other cats. But she couldn’t tell him about her power, so she mewed, “I’m sneaky.” “Almost as good as a ShadowClan cat.” He stretched luxuriously. “Want to see how stealthy I can be?” “You don’t have to.” She didn’t want to lose sight of him. At the last Gathering he had invited her to meet with him here. “How’s training going?” She rolled her eyes. “Jayfeather’s not getting any better.” “Well, he wouldn’t.” Tigerheart flicked his tail. “That’s okay; you’re cooler than him anyway.” “He’s really good at hunting,” said Dawnpaw, surprising herself. I don’t even like Jayfeather. Why am I defending him? “Tigerheart! The other day there was this tree—it fell into a ravine and—” “Hold on, what happened to you?” Tigerheart whispered, amber eyes widening. “You’ve got scratches all over your pelt.” “It was a really creepy dream,” she said, shivering. Icepaw didn’t mean to do it. I’d tell Tigerheart, but what if he got her in trouble? She could be exiled. I couldn’t let that happen.He started guiltily, and Dawnpaw wondered what was wrong. “Whoa, um, a bad nightmare?” “Something like that.” “How’ve you been sleeping afterward, then?” he asked, peering intensely at her. “Any more nightmares?” “Oh, nothing like that.” Only about Icepaw being dead.He relaxed. “Good.” “Is ShadowClan going okay?” Tigerheart frowned. “RiverClan’s getting really aggressive on our borders. Blackstar stepped up patrols, but. You know. Hawkstar.” “He’s scary,” Dawnpaw hissed. “Ah, I think we could take him.” Tigerheart dropped into a hunter’s crouch. “Did you know the cats in the mountains can kill hawks? If they can do it, we can do it too.” “Killing a cat’s a little different,” Dawnpaw pointed out. Lionstorm and Jayfeather had told her all about the Tribe of Endless Hunting; her mentor had talked about a lost Clan, too. Tigerheart grinned. “Does Hawkstar count as a cat?” “Maybe not.” Dawnpaw rolled onto her back. “How high do you know how to climb?” “All the way to the top.” “The top of what, a molehill?” she teased. “Well, sure; I’d be a pretty lousy climber if I couldn’t.” He pointed a paw up at a nearby pine. “I could get all the way up to the top of there.” “Speaking of molehills, I’ve been—” Dawnpaw stopped herself just in time. The tunnels are a huge secret! “Catching moles. Have you ever seen one?” “No, I don’t think I have. What do they look like?” Dawnpaw had caught a mole once; it had tunneled into the WindClan passageways. “They’ve got funny wiggly faces. Like a clump of grass, only made of mouse tails.” “Weird,” he murmured, twisting his face. “They kind of look like biggish mice,” she added, “but their paws are huge. Big scary badger claws, almost.” She held up her paws to show him the size. “For digging.” Whiskernose had been disgusted by her mole, she remembered. He had gotten upset when it had touched the mouse he’d wanted to eat. Whiskernose! That’s right. “I should probably go home soon,” she said. “Whiskernose and Furzepelt are sitting their vigil, and I want to make sure I can sneak past them.” He dipped his head. “See you at the Gathering.” “Or sooner!” She bounced away through the forest. No cat would be up at this time, so everything was safe until she reached the moor. Out over the hills Dawnpaw had to be more cautious. The warriors would be able to see her from far away; the higher ground around the top of the camp provided excellent vantage points to spot intruders, and the white patches of her fur would stand out like a beacon against the gentle warm grays of the night. She made it home okay and came back in through the dirtplace tunnel. No cat noticed anything strange. Dawnpaw fell asleep feeling more satisfied than she had in over a moon. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX DAWNPAWDawnpaw yawned. Jayfeather called again for her, sounding impatient this time. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she mumbled. Keep your fur on. She hoped he could hear her thoughts right now; he would not like them. Jayfeather would not let Dawnpaw into the tunnels alone nearly as much as Gorsetail allowed Cloudpaw. When Dawnpaw had complained, he had told her to stop whining and start acting like a warrior. “I’m still an apprentice,” Dawnpaw had reminded him, but he had just snarled that he had lost his apprenticeship to the prophecy and his blindness and so she could deal with it. She managed to catch a rabbit. No moles today, but she did catch scents that she thought might be them. Dawnpaw dropped her rabbit in front of Jayfeather, who grunted and told her to add it to the pile. “And be careful of Icepaw,” he added. “She’s my sister,” Dawnpaw snapped. Does he know? I’ve been careful, haven’t I? Oh, no, he can probably see that I’m thinking this right now!“Hi, Icepaw,” she said hopefully as her sister returned from patrol. Icepaw turned up her nose and refused to look at her. “Icepaw?” “What’s eating her?” Sunstrike meowed. Dawnpaw shrugged, hoping no one could see how frightened she was that they would find out the answer. Jayfeather, get out of my mind. “She just won’t talk to me.” Sunstrike looked sympathetic, but Kestrelflight called her to check on her wounds before she could say anything more. Nightcloud and Graypaw padded into the camp, and Dawnpaw set her jaw and forced her mood to brighten. “Graypaw!” she greeted him, lifting her tail. “What do you want?” he growled. Taken aback by just how hostile he was, Dawnpaw mewed, “I just wanted to talk to you.” He snorted. “What reason’ve you got to talk to someone like me?” “You’re my brother and my friend,” she said meekly, but he was already leaving to sit with Icepaw and Furzepelt. Jayfeather could go stuff himself, but Graypaw and Icepaw were supposed to be her friends. We used to be so close.Had Dawnpaw done something back before Icepaw attacked her? She wracked her brain, but all she could come up with was the day Dewspeckle had died, and that wasn’t her fault. If anyone’s it was Dewspeckle himself, but it felt wrong to blame him for dying. “Come on, Graypaw,” she mewed, trotting up to where the others sat. “What’s the matter?” He glared spitefully at her, and Dawnpaw felt, not for the first time, misgivings about her littermates trickle through her chest. They really seemed to hate her. Was Graypaw in on Icepaw’s attack? “I went hunting today,” she said, hoping to get him to talk. “Did you hunt anything?” “Yes,” he said coldly. “Why’s everyone upset?” Furzepelt asked, bemused. Icepaw shrugged. “It’s not important.” “Then tell me what it is,” Dawnpaw persisted. “What did I do wrong? I’m sorry about it.” “She won’t knock it off,” Icepaw said to Furzepelt. “I wish she’d stop whining.” “I don’t whine,” Dawnpaw snapped, bristling at the suggestion. I get enough of this from Jayfeather. “I just want an explanation.” “All right, Dawnpaw, here’s your explanation.” Graypaw turned his wearily angry blue gaze onto her again. “Scram.” “I will not scram.” She plopped down onto the ground. “Jayfeather says I’m a better warrior than you’ll ever be.” Icepaw whirled and hissed directly in Dawnpaw’s face. “You will never be a decent warrior, Dawnpaw, and I know it. You’re probably not even going to pass your assessment. Get out of my fur. Don’t ever talk to me again.” There was a pause. “Harsh,” Furzepelt said quietly. Icepaw rolled her eyes. “She’ll get over it if she ever stops being a kit about everything.” Dawnpaw had no comeback. Why are you so mean?None of this was fair. Maybe it had been going a bit too far to say she was a better warrior than Icepaw, but she hadn’t expected such a forceful reaction. “Well, I’m going to train more,” she said sullenly. Furzepelt still looked a little confused, but Icepaw got between them. “Get going.” Dawnpaw walked out of the camp and collapsed just outside the entrance. At least Cloudpaw still loves me, she thought. Outgoing and returning patrollers stepped over her tail and gave her and one another concerned stares, but no one actively disturbed her. Dawnpaw was free to lie there feeling sorry for herself for the rest of the afternoon. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENLIONSTORMIt had been a while since Lionstorm had gotten any time alone with Heathertail. With Swallowtail and Furzepelt to train, they had been busy for moons. Tonight they both sat guard outside the camp. Onestar didn’t always post guards, but he had been doing so more frequently since RiverClan had become so much more aggressive. Since they weren’t new warriors, they were not under any promises to be silent. Of course, refraining from speaking would leave them more alert, but no one really expected a raid on the camp. Hawkstar had no need for any of their supplies, and RiverClan relied largely on numbers, surprise, and advantageous ground for most of their battles. “You know, Lionstar, you’ve really been letting your Clan go,” she whispered, eyes shimmering playfully. He blinked. “Well, Heatherstar’s borders, uh—” “You don’t have to play along. We’re warriors now; the games are over. On the other paw—we’re warriors now; we can do what we like.” Lionstorm wasn’t sure he followed. “Yeah, I guess.” Heathertail sighed. “I still like you, Lionstorm.” “Oh.” He stared at her. “I knew that. But I don’t think we can be mates just yet.” The last thing you need is kits while all of this is going on.“Why not?” She looked hurt. Oh, mouse dung, I can’t tell her a thing. As far as he knew, Hollyheart, Jayfeather, and Dawnpaw had all kept the prophecy a secret. So he just said, “I think there are bad things going on, you know, in RiverClan.” “RiverClan,” she murmured, holding his gaze. “We aren’t, you know, in RiverClan.” “Well, we might have to fight, you know, in RiverClan,” he meowed. She rolled her eyes, and he thought the joke might already have grown stale. “Clans fight all the time; that’s just how life is.” “I don’t think Hawkstar’s behavior is normal.” Lionstorm’s pelt pricked with doubt. All those stories of Brokenstar and Tigerstar. Even Leopardstar had gone through dark times, and Crowfeather had readily explained Bramblestar’s treachery when Lionstorm had asked. Could traitorous, destructive leaders be a typical part of Clan life after all? “He has nine lives. He’s going to be around for a while, possibly longer than us. I’m not giving up my chance at happiness out of fear of any RiverClan cat.” Heathertail sat up straighter. “The best thing we can do is not be afraid.” Lionstorm itched to tell her about the Place of No Stars, but he didn’t know how to do this without revealing the prophecy or his own training there. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to risk kits’ lives.” She rounded on him, eyes flashing. “It isn’t risking kits’ lives any more than Whitetail did by having me. It isn’t selfish to want a family, you know.” “I didn’t say it was—” he said weakly, but she cut him off. “If anyone here is selfish, Lionstorm, it’s you. You can’t tell me you want to be my mate and then say ‘not now, not ever, until Hawkstar is dead.’ Don’t give me all this about danger; if there’s any cat in the forest who doesn’t need to worry about battling, it’s you, isn’t it? Get your head out of the dust and be mature, or you’re going to wish you’d thought less of Hawkstar and more of your own Clan.” Lionstorm tried to collect his thoughts, but she had rattled him. Am I selfish?“Heathertail,” he began. “What?” He swallowed. “I didn’t mean to upset you, and I’m sorry I did. I’m not telling you that you can’t have kits. But I really, really think that something is going to happen very soon. Something really bad, and the Clans are going to need everyone ready to fight.” “You’re a regular doomsday elder, aren’t you?” she snapped. “Don’t you remember when the sun went out? Everything was perfectly fine. We aren’t going to lose our stars.” “We might.” Heathertail groaned. “Let me stop you right there. Didn’t you know that there’s someone else interested in me, too? And I just might take him up on it, if you’re going to be such a drag.” Lionstorm wanted to yell that he would be her mate just as soon as he finished saving the Clans. A momentary image of him sinking his teeth deep into another cat’s flesh, blood rising to meet his tongue— No! That was what Tigerstar wanted, not what he wanted. “Well, if it’ll make you happy,” he said, feeling his neck muscles tighten. Jealousy is bad, he told himself. Jealousy is exactly what Tigerstar wants you to feel.Heathertail wasn’t finished. “I know Breezepelt can be a little hard to deal with at times, but I think he can be sweet,” she mused. “You really want to be his mate?” Lionstorm hadn’t meant to sound so incredulous, but he’d thought everyone but himself and maybe Antpelt hated the surly tom. Heathertail glared defiantly at him. “Of course I do.” “That’s, well, you have fun. That’s not sarcastic,” he said hastily. “Just be careful, okay? About the kits.” “Honestly, Lionstorm, how dense can you be?” she muttered. He flattened his ears. “No, Heathertail. I love you, and I love Breezepelt, and I’m glad you’re going to be happy.” She didn’t look as if she believed him. They spent the rest of their watch in silence. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTICEPAWGraypaw paused in the mouth of the tunnel. “You’re coming, right?” “Of course.” Icepaw thought the tunnel entrance looked very much like the gaping mouth of some gargantuan badger, but she knew that to back down would be unwarriorlike. They padded down into the tunnel. It was as dark as Icepaw remembered. The shadows were almost suffocating. We could literally suffocate down here. That wasn’t a helpful thought, but it did spur her determination to be fearless. “Do you hear that?” she whispered as they crawled deeper into the tunnels. Graypaw took a while to answer. Eventually he whispered back, “Yes. Sorry, I forgot you couldn’t see me nodding.” Icepaw snickered. “Shush, that echoed,” he hissed. “Listen.” He smacked his jaws a few times, but Icepaw barely heard any echoes. “Did you hear it?” “Sure. So loud I forgot I couldn’t hear you.” She could smell his confusion, and she barely resisted the urge to laugh again. Their mission was simple. A large part of Dawnpaw’s prestige was her ability to navigate the tunnels. By entering her domain and bringing back rabbits without special training, Icepaw and Graypaw would prove their superiority. “That noise is really loud,” Graypaw shouted. “Quit yelling! It’s nothing compared to your squawking.” “I don’t squawk.” “Sure you don’t, crow-cat.” “Crows don’t squawk, either. They caw.” “Oh, whatever.” She nudged him, and he squealed. That echoed for sure, and Icepaw had to squeeze her ears down at the volume. “I want to know what you call that.” There was a noise of something dropping to the floor. Graypaw tumbled to the ground, and Icepaw bumped into him. “Hey, be careful, clumsypaws,” she mewed, backing up a few steps. The ground here was harder and slicker than at the surface, and it felt very strange if not unpleasant against her pawpads. “I tripped on a thing,” he protested. “How very specific.” “It’s a weird thing.” She heard his paws making funny splat noises on the slippery ground, and then he hit her across the muzzle with whatever it was he had found. Graypaw dropped whatever he was holding, and Icepaw leaned down to sniff it. It smelled like stone, earth, and water—not terribly useful for identifying anything down here. She ran her paw across it; it was long, and it would have been smooth if not for countless tiny incisions along the side. One end had some empty space. “Is it a stick?” she guessed out loud. “Pretty funny stick,” he chuckled. “Well, what else could it be?” He had no answer. “Let’s keep going. Maybe there’s more.” Icepaw had a brief image of dozens of sticks inhabiting the tunnel like a colony of ants, but she knew if she told Graypaw he would just make fun of her. Dawnpaw would have liked it. If we were still friends.Graypaw charged forward. “Hey, wait,” she called, bounding after him. His paws apparently hit stone, because she could hear claws scratching somewhere. She wasn’t sure if he had heard her. Then the water swirled around her. Icepaw had fallen off a very short ledge and into the underground river. “Fox dung,” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. She flailed her paws, and one of them hit Graypaw. “Swim!” She just managed to catch hold of an indentation in the rock, but a tail brushing her side distracted her. “We aren’t alone,” she gurgled as she was swept back into the water. The other cat tackled her to the ground, then sank their teeth deep enough into her scruff to draw blood and dragged her out of the water. Their bottom teeth scraped against their top teeth as they released her on the side. “Graypaw,” Icepaw managed to spit out along with too much water. The other cat was already racing along the side of the water, paws thumping hard enough to shake the stone beneath Icepaw’s body. Splash, splash, splash. Icepaw spat out mouthful after mouthful of cold water, waiting for the other cat to bring Graypaw back. Even my bones are waterlogged. She found this hilarious, but as she started to shake with laughter, she realized it didn’t make any real sense; she was dizzy somehow from lying down. Her scruff had indeed been pierced. She could feel hot blood beading on the back of her neck, and somehow that ached more than the rest of her bruised body. “Graypaw,” she spluttered again as she felt the presence of another cat. “No.” As the other cat spoke, they sprayed Icepaw’s already soaked pelt with a mix of spit, blood, and water. Icepaw would have recoiled if she had had any energy left. “Graypaw?” she wheezed again, more water sloshing from her mouth. “Icepaw, I didn’t get him, he’s gone,” the other cat cried, voice shaky and cracked. “His only hope is that he washed up on the other side, and I don’t think it’s easy to do that. It only happened once before.” Icepaw couldn’t think of anything to say. She wasn’t even sure she could move. Graypaw.The other cat sniffed over her pelt for a few moments, then gently licked the blood from her scruff. Gradually Icepaw realized she recognized this cat’s scent. Humiliation washed over her, and she wished the river had taken her. Dawnpaw.“You followed me,” Icepaw accused. Dawnpaw flinched. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” “What do you care? You’ve got Jayfeather, don’t you?” “I don’t like Jayfeather,” Dawnpaw said bitterly. Icepaw was still. After several heartbeats had passed, she muttered, “You’ve got everyone.” “Huh?” “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to talk to you.” Icepaw closed her eyes. It didn’t make much difference. Not down here, away from the sun, moon, and stars. Dawnpaw slowly carried Icepaw back home. Icepaw listened to her sister’s pawsteps. Neither of them spoke. Dawnpaw probably thought this was a sign of forgiveness. It wasn’t. You may have saved me, but that doesn’t really change anything. You didn’t save Graypaw. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINEHOLLYHEARTHollyheart was still not happy. Harespring had tried his best to help, but she was beyond consolation. I am a failure.She had wanted her entire life to be special. To become Hollystar of WindClan—but she wasn’t a WindClan cat. To make radical changes and promote strict adherence to the code—but then she couldn’t exist, could she? To hold the power of the stars—but it wasn’t her. To be a medicine warrior—but Kestrelflight had Jayfeather and Cloudpaw. In the end, Hollyheart was nothing. She dreamed of the Place of No Stars often. She had not seen a cat there in a long time, but just the thought of the place sent shivers through her whole body. That was why she slept so little. She had requested guard duty so many times that Onestar had gotten suspicious, but lack of sleep made her dizzy enough that she could forget her troubles, if at the cost of her rational thought and bodily strength. Avoidance didn’t solve anything. She couldn’t escape her own mind. At night whispers of her shortcomings filled her ears, buzzing around her head like swarms of troubled bees. Her spotty, flashing vision and the painful brightness of the sun made warrior duties unbearable. Harespring and Kestrelflight had pestered her about her health. She avoided Jayfeather and Lionblaze as best she could, telling herself they wouldn’t want to see her anyway. She had had enough. Hollyheart’s first thought had been to lose herself in the tunnels, but in this state she didn’t know if she could even find one. Everything had been going so well, too. After Harespring’s firm reassurances, she had vowed to better herself and be a strong warrior. But defeat after defeat at the paws of RiverClan had hammered home the very message he had tried to avert. Without powers, she was useless. So Hollyheart stumbled toward the horseplace. Surely even in her fractured state of mind she would be able to wander into the horses’ field. There were no horses out in the middle of the night, but morning would come soon enough. Hollyheart collapsed in front of the horses’ tall Twoleg nest, and she drilled the same thought repeatedly into her mind. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep. She wanted to know. A noise like thunder. A high-pitched wail. A gust of unseasonably cold wind. A feeling like thousands of icicles slicing down into her body. She saw the ghostly pale image of a yellow cat before her, and she knew she was in StarClan. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TENDAWNPAW“Yeah, Littlecloud’s sick,” Tigerheart admitted. “I think Flametail said it was greencough.” “That’s not good.” Dawnpaw shuffled closer to him; it had gotten a little colder recently. “He says Littlecloud needs catmint,” Tigerheart added. “I don’t know where to find that.” Dawnpaw already knew Littlecloud was sick. She had seen and heard it herself through Tigerheart’s eyes. In fact, she had considered bringing Tigerheart a bundle of catmint tonight. Really, though, she couldn’t. TIgerheart was a ShadowClan warrior, for crying out loud, and if not for her power she would have no way of knowing any cat was sick. Nothing good could come of sharing the herbs. Tigerheart showed off his climbing skill this time instead of just bragging about it, and she watched appreciatively. He didn’t go all the way to the top of the tree, but she was astonished at how high he did climb. She made it back to camp without much trouble. Jayfeather woke her for the dawn patrol, and they skimmed the outside border of WindClan’s territory. This time he let her go off into the tunnels on her own. After she had rescued Icepaw, the warriors had demanded to know the story. Icepaw had claimed that they’d all gone down together. If they had still been on polite terms, Dawnpaw would have corroborated her story. Since Icepaw had been so rude lately, however, Dawnpaw had stubbornly told the warriors that she had followed Icepaw and Graypaw down knowing they might need help. Onestar had told both of them that they needed to watch their recklessness and excused Cloudpaw from tick duty for a while so that they would have to do it more often. Jayfeather had seemed impressed, as unlikely as Dawnpaw would have thought that was. “Maybe you didn’t rescue Graypaw, but you did save Icepaw. You know how to handle yourself. Just be careful,” he had said. “Don’t do anything dangerous like that again. It might seem like a good idea, but it isn’t. Not when the future of the Clans hangs in balance in your paws.” It was soothing to be so alone. Dawnpaw was still in denial over Graypaw’s death. It’s not denial if you know it is, she told herself, but even this was just another way of distracting herself. She had always known that cats she cared about would die. Both of her parents were old, and warriors experienced fatalities all the time. Yet she had never expected to lose Graypaw so soon. After wandering for quite some time, Dawnpaw caught a rabbit and lugged it back to the surface. Jayfeather wasn’t there; he had gone down into the tunnels to hunt on his own. She greeted Icepaw hopefully, but she wasn’t surprised when her sister turned away. “Hey, Cloudpaw,” she said. “Hi.” Cloudpaw’s blue eyes stared through her. “Dawnpaw. What do you think of me becoming a medicine cat?” Dawnpaw blinked. “Well, that could be fun. Kestrelflight could use an apprentice.” Her sibling nodded. “That is what I thought. I talked to Gorsetail; he said it seemed fitting for me.” “Well, Kestrelflight will take you,” Dawnpaw assured them. “Would you like to share a mouse?” Dawnpaw fetched a mouse so that Cloudpaw could keep thinking. They ate it together; there was little to discuss. Eventually Cloudpaw decided to broach the subject they had both had in mind. “If I am a medicine cat, I can talk to Graypaw.” “Yeah,” Dawnpaw mewed, hunching over. “It is not your fault.” Dawnpaw shrugged, uncomfortable. “Well, I should have—” Cloudpaw narrowed their eyes. “You saved Icepaw. That matters.” “It’s like she’s determined to make me regret it,” Dawnpaw muttered. She didn’t regret it, but she was put off by her sister’s attitude. Icepaw couldn’t just be grateful; she had the nerve to be angry that Dawnpaw had pulled her out of that roiling water. “She is upset,” Cloudpaw said gravely. “I have not managed to figure out why.” When Onestar returned from patrol, Cloudpaw got up to talk to him. Scanning the camp, Dawnpaw saw Gorsetail and Kestrelflight padding over to the leader as well. She hoped Graypaw would forgive her for her failure. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVENICEPAW“Try again, Sunstrike,” Shredtail growled.“I’m trying,” the tortoiseshell panted. “You’re too slow.” “Be careful, she’s got kits inside,” Icepaw whimpered. “That’s no excuse.” Shredtail pointed a paw at Icepaw. “You should be with Snowtuft or one of the leaders.” She flicked back her ears but knew better than to say anything more. Icepaw wasn’t sure if she liked the cats in the Valley of No Stars. Training here was better than allowing Dawnpaw to be better, but there was definitely something wrong. Tigerheart rippled into view. “Sorry I’m late,” he yawned. “I had a patrol.” “You’re late all the time,” the spirit tortoiseshell Rosetalon grunted. He drew back his head. “Blackstar keeps sending me on evening patrol. It’s not my fault.” I wish Graypaw’s death weren’t my fault.Snowtuft and Rosetalon set Icepaw and Tigerheart to spar with each other. “Don’t be afraid to use your claws,” Snowtuft meowed. Rosetalon added, “Be afraid not to use your claws; you can’t finish until you’ve done enough damage to your opponent.” “I’m an apprentice,” Icepaw mewed, alarmed. “While you’re here, you’re all apprentices,” Silverhawk sniffed. Breezepelt glared at him, curling his lips back. Icepaw resigned herself to the fight. She scored her claws across Tigerheart’s skin. Neither actually wanted to hurt the other, but by the time they finished, both of them were crisscrossed by fresh cuts. Some of the dead cats padded off to a meeting. Icepaw wanted to follow, but Snowtuft told her that only spirits were welcome. The living trainees fell to talking. Sunstrike lay on the ground, her breathing tight. Shredtail’s a foxheart.Minnowtail mentioned something about Blackclaw getting sick. Icepaw recognized the name; the old warrior always looked uncomfortable at Gatherings when Hawkstar spoke, but in battle he had viciously fought for his Clan, even when they were actively trespassing. “Littlecloud is sick, too,” Tigerheart commented. “Greencough.” Icepaw was not unaware of the world around her. A few moons of training in her dreams had allowed Icepaw to familiarize herself with other cats’ scents. Without this training, she probably couldn’t have picked out any individual ShadowClan cat by smell alone. As it was, she knew Tigerheart’s very well. She knew he was involved with Dawnpaw. Until very recently her sister had been sleeping close to her, but on new moons and half moons Dawnpaw would disappear until past moonhigh and return with Tigerheart’s scent on her fur. Tigerstar had impressed on his apprentices that their primary loyalties should be not to their leaders but to their involvement with the Valley of No Stars. He couldn’t guarantee the character of other cats, he said. This sounded like an excuse, but Icepaw was okay with that. “I know where you can find catmint,” she mewed. She felt her pulse quicken. This is the best idea I’ve ever had. “In the forest bit of our territory there’s a Twoleg nest. It’s falling apart; there are never, ever any Twolegs near it. Don’t get caught, and don’t take any more than you really need.” Tigerheart’s eyes widened. “This isn’t a trap, is it?” Ratscar asked, unconvinced. “No cat will ever know how you found out about it,” Icepaw pointed out. “WindClan has lots of catmint, and no one is sick.” The ShadowClan warriors exchanged a few looks, and Tigerheart thanked her. “I’ll be a warrior soon,” she said proudly. “Well, good luck on getting a name you like,” said Tigerheart. What if I don’t get a good one? she thought, suddenly afraid. “Don’t worry,” said Redwillow. “Everything sounds good with Ice.” “Flattering,” purred the white RiverClan she-cat Icepaw had come to know as Icewing. “As only a true warrior can be,” Redwillow agreed, closing his eyes and letting Icewing flop down next to him. Weaselfur lashed his tail. “Yes, you are a great apprentice,” he said blandly. When they woke to train, he sent her out hunting on a solo mission. Icepaw hunted in the wooded part of the territory. Hopefully Tigerheart would strike soon. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVEJAYFEATHER“Move! Out of the way!” Jayfeather scrambled back, and a barrage of pawsteps rushed past. “What’s going on?” he asked. There was blood and RiverClan scent. “Who’s hurt?” “Not just hurt,” Brackentail wailed. “Dead.” Jarred by this news, Jayfeather sniffed the air, but it was difficult to tell amongst the overlapping scents which cat was which. “It’s Onestar,” Lionstorm whispered, his voice low and hoarse. “How many lives does he have now?” “Lionstorm, how long do you think it takes for a leader to wake up?” Heathertail snapped. “You were there last time; you straight-up killed the ShadowClan deputy.” “I didn’t mean—” Jayfeather shifted his paws. Kestrelflight and Cloudpaw might not have enough room to treat the warriors if he joined them, but they would probably have left Onestar outside the den anyway. Sure enough, there was the leader’s body. Countless wounds had opened his skin. StarClan had not healed any of them, not even the fatal strike; he was gone. In the past, death of his Clanmates had been deeply upsetting, of course. But after Hollyheart’s disappearance, Onestar’s death barely registered. It was as if his emotions had gone numb. Harespring hadn’t done much better, and Leafpool had been an utter wreck. Jayfeather had been surprised at how distant Lionstorm was from his sister. He was friends with everyone, even Breezepelt; how could he and Hollyheart have grown so far apart? Ashfoot called the Clan together before the medicine cats had finished treating the injured patrol’s wounds. “Let all cats six moons on join before the Tallrock for a Clan meeting,” she meowed. “I know not every cat is here, but I must appoint a new deputy immediately. I say these words before StarClan, that they may hear and approve of my choice: Whitetail will be the new deputy of WindClan. I will go to the Moonpool to receive my nine lives immediately.” She’s so old.Jayfeather didn’t know how Ashfoot was still so strong. She, Tornear, and Whitetail should all have been elders by now. Morningflower, Tornear’s littermate, had claimed she was younger than Ashfoot. How long could she last as leader when the cats of the Place of No Stars were after her? Jayfeather had a horrible image of her waking up night after night in the same dark forest, slaughtered over nine days by those evil spirits. She never liked Onestar. Ashfoot had followed her leader diligently, but she had shown clear dislike of him. During training Jayfeather had popped into her mind a few times to find that she was upset with Onestar. Maybe now ThunderClan could return. Jayfeather sighed and padded into the elders’ sett. Morningflower had passed away recently, but Tawnyfur, Webfoot, and Leafpool were all there. “I need to talk to you, Leafpool,” he said. “Is this about Ashstar?” she asked. “Sort of. You used to be a medicine cat; does StarClan ever visit you?” Leafpool sighed. “On occasion.” “How much do you know about how ThunderClan is right now?” “Squirrelflight is alive,” Leafpool said firmly. “That is all I know.” Helpful. “Well, at least that’s something,” he meowed. Ashstar returned from getting her nine lives. She had already arranged the day’s patrols that morning, so Whitetail didn’t have to. Jayfeather patrolled the ShadowClan border with Tornear, Crowfeather, and Owlwhisker. “I smell ShadowClan,” Tornear snarled. “They’ve gotten onto our land.” Jayfeather followed the scent; it wound through the woods to the Twoleg nest. “The catmint,” Crowfeather mewed. “It’s all gone.” “ShadowClan took our catmint,” Owlwhisker said in disbelief. “How did they find our catmint?” They didn’t run into any ShadowClan cats. The patrol returned home to announce the disappearance of the precious herb. As they walked, Jayfeather turned his muzzle toward the lake, and he could see. The water was frozen over completely, which was definitely out of place for late greenleaf. He shivered reflexively despite the balmy air. Over the lake rose a full moon—it ascended swiftly, its warm light flooding over the lake territories and reflecting brilliantly off the ice. The lake’s surface stayed hard and flat until the whole vision disappeared. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEENDAWNPAW“I know you’re the one who told him,” Icepaw whispered. Dawnpaw sat bolt upright. “What?” “About the catmint. It’s okay. I won’t tell.” “Who—” Icepaw chuckled. “It feels funny to get caught, doesn’t it?” “I didn’t tell him about the catmint,” Dawnpaw said, almost pleading. She tried to think over everything she had said. I didn’t tell him; I couldn’t have.But she couldn’t remember. Icepaw’s pale green eyes were still narrowed with suspicion. “You know, he told me you did.” “What are you talking about?” Dawnpaw whimpered. She can’t know. There’s no way. “I didn’t mean to tell. It must have just slipped out. Please don’t tell anyone.” Icepaw’s eyes flashed with delight. “I already said I wasn’t going to.” Dawnpaw blinked a couple of times. “Wait, how did you find out about all that?” Icepaw chortled. “You think you’re the only one he talks to? StarClan, Dawnpaw, he doesn’t like you.” “Yes, he does,” Dawnpaw mewed, cowed. Her sister just sighed, the corners of her mouth still twisted. “You’re so naïve. It’s almost cute. Like a kit.” “Tigerheart loves me,” Dawnpaw hissed. “That’s not what he told me,” Icepaw mewed knowingly. Dawnpaw’s heart felt cold. She hadn’t expected this. “Well, you really shouldn’t be meeting with him, you know.” “It won’t look any better for you,” Icepaw reminded her. Dawnpaw sank her claws into the ground. “Icepaw, listen to me.” “You aren’t even saying anything. I am—and what I’m saying is you’re nothing special. Did you honestly think Tigerheart would care about you?” “Tigerheart loves me more ’cause he knows about the prophecy,” Dawnpaw hissed. Mouse dung, I shouldn’t have told her that.Icepaw’s lips peeled back in disgust. “Prophecy?” Dawnpaw dropped low to the ground. “Icepaw, I didn’t mean to tell you that. It’s important—it’s not, I mean. It’s not important. Honestly, it’s nothing.” “What prophecy?” Dawnpaw hesitated. How much could she tell Icepaw? “You have to promise me you’ll keep it a secret.” “I can do that.” Icepaw bared her teeth. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?” “It was supposed to be a secret,” Dawnpaw whispered. “Because you’re so great at keeping those.” “Shh! It’s, um—there will be three, kin of your kin—only sometimes they say kin of the cat with fire in his pelt—with the power of the stars in their paws. And I’m one of them. I’ve got a power. I can see through other cats’ eyes, and the beavers, too.” “That’s impossible,” scoffed Icepaw. “No, it’s true,” Dawnpaw insisted. “Watch.” She let her mind find Ashstar. “Right now, Ashstar is telling off Breezepelt for being too aggressive. He isn’t happy—he’s muttering to himself. Getting his paws muddy. They’re on the RiverClan border, pretty close to the lake, I think.” Icepaw stared. “See who else is with them.” “I can’t make her turn her head. I can just see what she’s seeing. Um, I can smell Harespring, I think? “Don’t tell Tigerheart!” she added, remembering what she had said. “He doesn’t know; that was a lie. It’s very important.” Icepaw remained wary of her until Ashstar’s patrol returned to camp. Breezepelt’s muddy paws and unusually defensive posture were apparently convincing enough. She hoped she could trust Icepaw to keep her secret. If word got out, Jayfeather would be angry. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEENDAWNPAWIt seemed as though Icepaw really did keep the secret. Jayfeather and Weaselfur sent their apprentices off for their assessments at the same time. Lionstorm stood by to see them go, and Dawnpaw bounded down into the tunnel. She was nervous. She would never admit this to Jayfeather, but she had a feeling he could sense it anyway. Get out of my mind, she thought. Immediately her visits with Tigerheart filled her mind, and she hoped desperately that her warning had scared him off. Dawnpaw let her mind wander to Icepaw. Her sister was plunging through the grass, taking in scent after scent. The sun was dazzlingly bright, and she barreled after a rabbit, pouncing. You’ve got to pounce faster than that, thought Dawnpaw, wrinkling her nose. Icepaw had caught the rabbit, but her leap had been too high; she had lost a lot of speed. Icepaw took off again. She swerved to catch a rabbit, and there was Lionstorm. Dawnpaw trotted farther into the tunnel, scenting for rabbits. She tracked one down and chased it. Fortunately the rabbit wasn’t smart enough to run into its warren. Sunstrike’s kits had come a few days ago. Their names were Larkkit and Crouchkit. Crouchkit sounded very strange to Dawnpaw, but maybe it was just her. Lionstorm was hunting, too. When Dawnpaw tapped into his senses, she saw that he was headed away from the area where Icepaw chased her rabbits. He must not have wanted to interfere with her assessment. If Graypaw were still there, he’d be hunting alongside Icepaw anyway. But he isn’t, and it’s my fault he’s dead.No, it’s not my fault. It’s Icepaw’s.Dawnpaw was so distracted by this realization that the rabbit she had been chasing slipped away. That’s right; it wasn’t my fault at all. Icepaw’s the one who dragged him down there.Lionstorm was still charging through the grass. Dawnpaw had to admit that since he had stopped bossing her around he had been rather more likable than Jayfeather, mostly because she knew he played in the grass like a kit when he was alone. Lionstorm broke out of the tall grass, and suddenly there was a huge creature, a giant gray monster with a hulking frame and terrifyingly long, sharp claws and teeth. Its face was white, its beady eyes offset by matte gray stripes. Badger! It reared onto its hind paws and flashed out a paw, lunging for Lionstorm with all its might. Dawnpaw screamed and pelted out of the tunnel. Her pelt dragged against the walls and ceiling, and her claws caught in the silt and clay. Soil showered down around her. She emerged streaked with mud and still wailing. “Lionstorm’s been hurt, someone help him, it’s a badger!” Jayfeather and Weaselfur both looked alarmed. “What are you talking about?” said Weaselfur, glaring at Jayfeather. “What are you talking about?” “Where is the badger?” Jayfeather asked, rising to his paws. He whispered into Dawnpaw’s ear, “Calm down. You know Lionstorm can take it; that is literally what his power is.” Ashstar took a few cats to help Lionstorm with the badger, but of course he had already chased it away. Icepaw returned to camp with five kills. Dawnpaw returned with none. “Let all cats six moons on join before the Tallrock for a Clan meeting,” Ashstar yowled. “First, a report on the badger that was very strangely detected by Dawnpaw while far away.” Ashstar and most of her Clanmates stared at her, and Dawnpaw shrank down. I was just afraid.“You’re doing this on purpose,” Icepaw hissed. The leader continued. “The badger’s scent and blood were found, but Lionstorm chased it off with no help needed.” Now cats looked at Lionstorm, and she realized how sloppy it had been of her to send them after him. He could fight spectacularly, but no cat could defeat a badger alone. “In other news, we have two apprentices whose assessments occurred today. Jayfeather, Weaselfur, are Dawnpaw and Icepaw ready to become warriors?” Weaselfur answered excitedly. “Icepaw is, but Dawnpaw didn’t catch a thing.” Ashstar paused, looking at Jayfeather. Please argue, Jayfeather. I know you can see my thoughts. Please argue.But Jayfeather shook his head. “Dawnpaw spent much of her assessment daydreaming and traveling across the territory rather than hunting. How else would she have sensed a badger?” “Very well.” Ashstar dipped her head. “Icepaw, please step forward.” Shooting Dawnpaw an incredibly self-satisfied look, Icepaw strode to the base of the Tallrock. Weaselfur joined her, sharp teeth showing. This was Ashstar’s first warrior ceremony as leader. “Do you promise to uphold the warrior code and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?” “I do,” Icepaw said proudly. “Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. You have grown up in a difficult time, but still you are a strong and bright cat. You will be known as Icepetal, to commemorate the grace with which you’ve learned.” Icepetal? I expected something like Iceclaw or Icetooth.“Icepetal! Icepetal! Icepetal!” Dawnpaw wouldn’t have cheered if she hadn’t been worried about getting caught. You don’t deserve anything from me. I saved your life, and you’re still being all impudent.Icepetal went to sit vigil that night, and Dawnpaw was the only warrior apprentice in the Clan. Cloudpaw tried to talk to her, but there wasn’t much to say. She would have another assessment soon, but that was small comfort. We were supposed to be warriors side by side, and I won’t even be one. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTEENLIONSTORMLionstorm, Harespring, Whitetail, and Tornear waited by the RiverClan border. They were to travel to RiverClan’s camp and talk to Hawkstar. His attacks had continued, and Ashstar wanted to try diplomacy one last time. He knew very well he was only there for intimidation. There had been more than a few queries as to how he had managed to get rid of the badger on his own. If Dawnpaw hadn’t called attention to it, he could have rolled in some strong-scented plants to cover up his fight. They spotted a RiverClan patrol padding out of the reeds. Lionstorm recognized Pinefur and Sneezecloud. “What are you doing here?” Pinefur snarled. “We need to talk to Hawkstar,” Whitetail answered politely, dipping her head. “He won’t want to see you. Go away.” Tornear bristled. “We’re prepared to fight.” Whitetail narrowed her eyes. “We have the right to meet with your Clan leader.” “We have the right to refuse,” hissed Pinefur. “Are you sure you want to fight?” Tornear growled, pulling back his lips. Harespring readied himself to pounce. Pinefur and the white RiverClan cat eyed Lionstorm hesitantly. “I suppose not,” the tabby she-cat said reluctantly. “Come with us.” RiverClan’s territory was unpleasantly marshy, and the streams everywhere didn’t help. It wasn’t even cold yet, but Lionstorm hated wading through them. Hawkstar lounged on a large, flat stone. His cold eyes glared daggers at the WindClan patrol. “What do you want?” “We are here to talk about our border,” Whitetail mewed. “Your border,” he scoffed. “What is the matter; can’t you defend it, or are you making a deal?” Whitetail stiffened, and Lionstorm was impressed by her patience. “It is time to honor the warrior code and stay within your boundaries,” she said. “Big talk from you; do you not see where you are?” “We are not here to fight you. You and your warriors have sent countless patrols into WindClan land. We—” “It isn’t my fault you can’t protect your borders.” Hawkstar shrugged, and Lionstorm noticed that he assumed a much more battle-ready posture. “If you can’t keep your land, you don’t need to have it.” “That isn’t what the warrior code—” “Shut up about your code,” the RiverClan leader snarled. Dawnflower nodded. “This is quite hypocritical coming from a WindClan cat, isn’t it?” “WindClan is ready to welcome ThunderClan back to the forest,” Whitetail replied, meeting her gaze. “We cannot do this if you continue to hunt on our land.” She looked so frail next to the brawny RiverClan cats. Hawkstar rose to his paws and advanced on Whitetail. “Get out of my camp.” Her fur started to rise, and Lionstorm tensed. Go ahead, Hawkstar. Do it. It would be so easy to kill him right here. Take down Hawkstar. Take down Dawnflower. Save WindClan.No!No wonder they sent me for muscle. Is this what they think of me? Guilt clawed at his heart. I’m only good for fighting. It’s true. That’s what I’ve become. Oh, StarClan, I was supposed to be more, wasn’t I?“This is your last chance to leave,” Hawkstar growled, and his growl kept up after he had finished speaking. Whitetail waited several heartbeats, then dipped her head slowly. “I suppose,” she said haltingly, “that we must return home.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTEENDAWNPAWDawnpaw pulled her rabbits one by one to the surface. “There you go,” she grunted. “Four kills.” Jayfeather nodded. “Bring them to camp,” he said tonelessly. “Aren’t you proud?” He shrugged. “I have never heard of an apprentice failing their assessment before. By this age any cat should be old enough to do as they are told and not disappoint.” Dawnpaw lashed her tail and gathered up the rabbits, holding each by a hind foot. She added them to the freshkill pile, and Jayfeather went to talk to Ashstar. Soon enough Ashstar called them together, but her first order of business was not Dawnpaw; it was Whitetail. “Whitetail, is it your wish to give up the name of warrior and join the elders?” “It is,” the old white she-cat rasped. “We honor you and the service you have done us. I call StarClan to give you many moons of rest.” “Thank you.” Whitetail dipped her head and joined Leafpool, Webfoot, and Tawnyfur near the sett. “This leaves us without a deputy,” Ashstar meowed. “Many of us remember back when ThunderClan was forced out of their forest. For now WindClan will continue to use this land, but I think now is the time to prepare for the future and let go of the hatred of the past. As such, I believe we should look to the future of our own Clan as well. “I say these words before StarClan, that they may hear and approve my choice. Harespring will be the next deputy of WindClan.” The brown-and-white warrior looked surprised, but he accepted. Sedgewhisker looked proud of her former mentor. “I also have a warrior to name. Jayfeather, is Dawnpaw ready?” “Yes, this time,” Jayfeather meowed drily. Dawnpaw had to force herself not to snap back at him. It wouldn’t look good at my ceremony.Dawnpaw pledged to follow the code and defend WindClan. Ashstar mewed, “Then by the power of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Every cat remembers how you brought back the water from the beavers. From this day forth, to honor this achievement, you will be known as Dawnstream.” The Clan chanted her name. Jayfeather licked her shoulder. I wish Boulderpaw and Graypaw were still here. They would have been warriors. What would their names have been? Dawnstream sat vigil that night; it gave her a lot of time to think. Icepetal knew about the prophecy, and Tigerheart was probably not her friend at all. To think I loved him, she thought crossly. Did I?Certainly she had enjoyed him. His enthusiasm was appealing, and she thought his showing off was cute. But love? Probably not. What was up with Icepetal? I claimed to see Tallstar. She got upset. She claimed to see Heatherstar. She stayed upset. She tried to kill me. She stayed upset. I saved her life. She stayed upset. I told her about the prophecy. She stayed upset. What is it going to take to get my sister back?Plus the prophecy. I’ve got to save the Clans still. Unless the beaver thing was the end?When the sun rose, Cloudpaw welcomed her back into camp. Dawnstream thanked them. “When do you think you’ll get your full name?” “Kestrelflight says it takes a little longer for medicine cats.” “I guess you do have a lot of herbs to learn.” Dawnstream yawned. “I’m going to go to sleep.” She padded down into an old badger sett and curled up. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEENLIONSTORM“You know I’m not Breezepelt’s mate,” said Heathertail, rolling her eyes. Lionstorm blinked in surprise. “You’re not?” He hated the part of himself that leapt for joy. This was a somber day—Antpelt had woken them, screaming, bleeding to death the same way Thistlepaw had. He, too, had been dead by the time the medicine cats arrived. “Are you a mousebrain?” Heathertail stared incredulously at him. Lionstorm turned away. “No.” Antpelt was your brother.“Then—Lionstorm, please stop doing this.” “Doing what?” Her disapproving tone slashed at his heart. “I said you could be mates with whoever you wanted to be.” “I don’t love Breezepelt,” she whispered. “I love you.” “But I don’t want kits,” he reminded her. “Not yet.” “That’s why I’m hoping I won’t have them.” “You’re really okay with that?” Her pale bluish eyes clouded. Lionstorm had always loved the color of them. “I still want to have kits, but if you really think there’s something bad about to happen, well, maybe I should stay in fighting shape. If I do have kits, I will raise them with pride, but…” Lionstorm tilted his head. If you have kits? “It’s okay, Heathertail.” “I do want to know what it is you think is happening.” Oh, nuts, I still can’t tell you about the prophecy, can I?“Does it have something to do with that mysterious badger?” she questioned, a prodding look in her eyes. “Uh, maybe.” Half-truths and lies. That’s what Jayfeather would want. Lionstorm wanted desperately to share the prophecy with Heathertail, but he was certain that none of the others had told any cat. Surely it couldn’t hurt to tell her about the Place of No Stars. “Did you know that the bad cats don’t go to StarClan?” Heathertail regarded him with slight suspicion. “What does that have to do with anything? They’re—they’re gone, aren’t they?” Lionstorm shook his head. “They live in, um, they don’t live, but they kind-of-live in a different afterlife. It’s called the Place of No Stars, because there are—” “No stars. I got that bit.” “Well, they’ve been teaching cats to fight. I was one of them once. I studied fighting from—from Thistleclaw.” Heathertail didn’t need to know he had been involved directly with Tigerstar. “I don’t know who else they talk to, except, well, Antpelt was one of them. Don’t freak out—I know he’s your brother, and I think he was a good cat, but I saw him there once. And…Jayfeather says that’s what happened to Thistlepaw and Dawnstream. “I don’t know what they really want, because they’re already all dead. But Hawkstar is in cahoots with Tigerstar. I saw him once, the same night I left for good.” Lionstorm shifted his paws. “I think he might be related to him, too.” “You don’t know your history, do you,” Heathertail breathed, eyes wide as the full moon. “That bad ThunderClan leader they always talk about, Bramblestar? He was Tigerstar’s son.” “You can have multiple sons,” said Lionstorm, confused. “Don’t you get it? Tigerstar is trying to rule vicariously through his sons!” Heathertail gripped the ground with her claws. “He’s building an army to take control away from the Clan leaders and the warrior code.” “Anyway, my good fighting skills probably come from back when I was learning how to fight from Thistleclaw. He always bragged about beating foxes on his own, with no help from anyone, and I guess it must have been a pretty weak badger.” “You were covered in badger blood, and there wasn’t a scratch on you,” she mewed pointedly. “I got scratches from the beavers, and I have some from battle. I just got very lucky.” Heathertail didn’t look as if she believed him, but she apparently didn’t want to press the matter any further. “Thank you for telling me about the place with no stars.” She touched her nose to his. “Mates?” “Yeah.” He licked her muzzle. “After the Place of No Stars is beaten.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEENJAYFEATHERAntpelt had died that morning. Jayfeather had heard Lionstorm and Heathertail conversing, but he didn’t care enough to listen in. Lionstorm had probably told half the Clan about the prophecy by now; it was a wonder no one mentioned it to Jayfeather. It was Icepetal he was concerned about. Dawnstream’s concentration had finally broken, and he had seen a flash of white fur and the sickly green of Icepetal’s eyes as claws ripped into her fur. She was approaching him right now. Jayfeather’s claws slid out of his paws instinctively. Even Icepetal isn’t enough of a mousebrain to attack me in front of the Clan, but still better safe than sorry.“Jayfeather, I need to talk to you,” she whispered. He replied coldly, “About what?” “The prophecy.” Jayfeather straightened up. “Who told you about that?” he hissed. “Please come with me.” “I have no reason to trust you,” he growled. “You attacked Dawnstream.” “Please,” she repeated, and he could hear the desperation tinting her voice. He followed her uneasily to a relatively sheltered spot near the camp, and she mewed, “I know who killed Antpelt.” “You—” he roared, and Icepetal jammed her tail into his mouth. “I didn’t kill him. It was Thistleclaw.” “Thistleclaw?” he repeated, spitting out her tail. “Who is Thistleclaw?” “Jayfeather, I’ve been learning how to fight in my dreams. It’s a place called the Valley of No Stars.” Jayfeather froze. “Just a valley?” he meowed. “I don’t know. That’s what Snowtuft called it, only I don’t think Snowtuft told me the whole truth. Thistleclaw is there, and Sparrowfeather—I haven’t seen her since the stump, which is one of the things that scared me about the place even before he killed Antpelt. There’s Shredtail and Tigerstar and Maggottail and Silverhawk and…” She swallowed. “Brokenstar.” “Is there any reason you’re telling me this, besides so that I can tell Ashstar and get your tail exiled for good?” hissed Jayfeather. “I know it was you who hurt Dawnstream.” “I want to fix things. I want to help the prophecy,” Icepetal said heavily. “I got into the mess because of my own jealousy, and I want to fix things.” “I don’t trust you,” said Jayfeather. Icepetal flinched. “I know, and I know I should be okay with that, but…I want to be a good warrior.” Jayfeather was quiet for a while, looking through Icepetal’s mind. She was confused and unnerved by his silence, but he was still able to see her memory of Antpelt’s death. He had hesitated instead of killing Icepetal, and a huge gray-and-white tom who must have been Thistleclaw set upon the black-eared warrior immediately, delivering the killing blow before Icepetal could stop him. Her intentions now seemed pure enough, he supposed. Mulling it over, he recalled the sign of the moon rising over the frozen lake, warming the ice. “You could spy,” he mused. “Spy on the Valley of No Stars,” she mewed in disbelief. “How?” “I want to know the names of every living cat training there.” “I can’t do that,” she objected. “They’ll figure out I’m doing this. I’m risking my neck just telling you this.” “Well, at least tell me if you find out any big plans.” “Jayfeather, the moment they catch me doing this, I’m going to get in loads of trouble with the No Stars cats. They will kill me, just like they killed Antpelt.” “That won’t be a problem. You don’t need to tell me anything out loud. Just hunt with me.” “I’m a moor-runner,” she grumped, but Jayfeather could hear in Icepetal’s mind that she would try. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEENSQUIRRELFLIGHTRainstep shoved the tormentil at Dustpelt. “Fine, put it on yourself, then.” The white tom bounded away. Squirrelflight twitched a whisker. Her mentor would never change, would he? He probably should have retired, but he had refused, especially since Sandstorm’s injury. Rainstep’s training had taken longer than she remembered Leafpool’s, but then it probably was more difficult for Stoneteller to train a Clan apprentice than it had been for Cinderpelt. He was certainly lucky to have finished his training; the old Stoneteller had died recently. Stoneteller had never trained a replacement, but Thornstar had pushed for Crag to step up, so he was the new Stoneteller, and now Rainstep had to teach him about herbs. Of course, there was not as much variety here as there was down at the lake. Leafpool was still alive, but she was worried about something. Squirrelflight wasn’t sure exactly what. There had been good news recently—ThunderClan might be able to return soon. The intruders had at first not respected the Tribe’s borders, but it had not taken long to establish respect. The rogues were not exactly a spectacular fighting force; she was pretty sure they had learned their lesson. Fireclaw and Dovesong, the kits born to Whitewing and Birchfall shortly before the two warriors’ untimely deaths, trotted into the cave together, carrying prey. Pebble and Night followed. Rosefoot, one of two surviving kits from Dustpelt and Ferncloud’s last litter, watched proudly as Swooppaw, Stonepaw, and Skypaw trained down near the stream while their mentors Eaglefur, Dawnblaze, and Cloudtail showed them battle moves. Eaglefur was her brother; their siblings Mothwhisker and Fallowkit had died. Cloudtail and Brightheart’s other two sons, Dawnblaze and Leafnose, had grown to be strong warriors. Neither had said it out loud, but Squirrelflight knew Leafnose was named for Leafpool. Honeyfern had taken Splash when Fish Leaps as a mate. Perhaps this was not the most advisable choice—if ThunderClan was able to travel back to the lake in the tabby warrior’s lifetime, or her kits’ lifetimes, someone would have to leave family behind. But Littlepaw and Briarpaw were bright, chipper, energetic young cats, and Squirrelflight wished Thornstar had made her one of their mentors rather than Cinderheart and Dawnblaze. Time had helped Squirrelflight cope with the loss of so many cats close to her. Sandstorm had been understanding; she had never been invested in Bramblestar or Ashfur, but she was sympathetic to her daughter, and she missed Firestar and Leafpool dearly. Longtail had died recently, and Squirrelflight had the feeling that several of ThunderClan’s stubborn older warriors were putting themselves at great risk by refusing to retire, Sandstorm among them. She was far too old to be deputy. Fortunately she had already professed how great a choice she thought Rosefoot or Dawnblaze would be, so at least ThunderClan would not be destroyed again if Thornstar and Sandstorm were unlucky enough to go down at the same time. Cinderheart had healed miraculously since the rockfall. Her leg was still stiff sometimes, but the old Stoneteller had taught Rainstep how to fix it every time it acted up. The gray warrior would have been Squirrelflight’s choice for the next leader, but she kept this to herself; maybe she was not responsible enough to take over a Clan. Stormfur and Brook had given birth to two kits, Lark and Pine, and they trained as to-bes beside the five Clan apprentices. Squirrelflight remembered almost fondly her first visit to the Tribe’s cave. Crowfeather— that nasty piece of crowfood—had demanded to know what a tooby was. This leafbare promised to be cold, although there was not yet ice on the ground. ThunderClan would winter here one last time at least, but this would likely be the last. All in all, things were finally looking up. ThunderClan had a leader, a deputy, and finally a full medicine cat, and its ranks had begun to swell to their former size. The Tribe flourished alongside them, and the new Stoneteller promised greater leadership than the last. They would almost certainly have to fight Onestar for their place in the forest, but he would not be expecting this. Sooner or later, they would set things right. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTYICEPETALIcepetal couldn’t breathe. The water in the Place of No Stars—Jayfeather had corrected her on its name—was grimy and oily, and she couldn’t see her paws a mouselength from her nose. This was the end. She had thought after her incident in the tunnels with Graypaw that she would be afraid of drowning. Not so. Icepetal felt foremost a dreadfully peaceful calm. What little resistance her woozy mind could offer came primarily in the form of Jayfeather will be unhappy. A garbled order filtered into her ears along with another wave of sludge. The pressure on her back released her, and Icepetal thrust herself upward, blackish liquid fountaining from her mouth and nose. “What in StarClan’s name was—” “Don’t talk about StarClan here,” Tigerstar snarled. Icepetal flinched, fully expecting him to scratch her, maybe even kill her like Thistleclaw had killed Antpelt. “Mapleshade, don’t kill our strongest apprentices,” he added. The huge tortoiseshell narrowed her eyes. “I don’t trust her.” Tigerstar’s pale amber eyes flashed. “Come this way, Icepetal.” “Icepetal?” Mapleshade snorted as the WindClan warrior followed Tigerstar. He left her with some of the other trainees. She stared around the group, pelt ruffling as she realized that it wasn’t possible for none of them to know what was going on. Even in her own Clan, she wouldn’t put it past Breezepelt to side with these cats. Silverhawk called them to a tree-climbing training. Icepetal had done this once before. The goal was to get to the top of the tree first, and fighting dirty was very much encouraged. “I don’t know how to climb,” a lean little RiverClan apprentice whimpered beside her as they walked. “Just stick your claws in the tree and pull yourself up,” Icepetal whispered. He still looked terrified. “I don’t know if I can do that. This is only my second time here, and we didn’t do anything like this last time.” He has no idea what he’s getting into. “What’s your name?” “Hollowpaw.” “Reedwhisker’s apprentice,” Icepetal remembered from the Gathering. “Why did the Pl—the Valley cats choose to train you?” “I don’t know,” he sighed. “I was really hoping for some help, I guess. Hawkstar doesn’t like Reedwhisker. I don’t think he’s ever going to make me a warrior; I’m very small.” “Cheer up. You don’t need this forest’s help. I think you’ll be a great warrior without it.” Hollowpaw looked slightly grateful, but he whispered, “No, I’ve got to be a good fighter, otherwise I can’t even pass my assessment.” Before they reached the tree where they were to train, Thistleclaw called Icepetal aside. “Follow me.” Hoping he wasn’t going to kill her as she’d feared Tigerstar would, Icepetal slunk after the spiky-furred tom. Don’t die, Hollowpaw. Listen to my advice. “What do you need?” she asked brightly, hoping she wasn’t overselling it. “Here.” He turned, got behind her, and shoved her into a clearing. Antpelt waited there. “If you can beat Antpelt this time, you get to be a Valley of No Stars warrior,” Tigerstar meowed. “Death match. Do it right this time.” “That doesn’t make any sense,” she mewed nervously. “If I kill him, that’s one less warrior with us.” “Kill him, or I will kill both of you,” Thistleclaw hissed. “Yeah, that’s right. Kill me.” Antpelt narrowed his eyes and flicked his tail. “I bet you can’t do it.” I’m sorry, Antpelt. “Anything to be a warrior.” She bared her teeth and sprang. The last time they had fought, Icepetal had had a distinct upper paw despite being much younger. He spent little time training. This time he was much stronger. He must have done nothing but battle train since his death. Wait, he’s dead. I can’t kill him.Icepetal thrashed at him with her claws. His thick blackish blood sprayed her already-grimy pelt, and she noticed with horror that it had the same consistency and color as the water. I’ve trained in that water. I’ve swallowed it. I almost drowned in it just tonight.Antpelt pinned her down and prepared to drive his teeth into her throat. Icepetal curled forward, bashing his muzzle with her skull. Blood poured from his nose, and she thought the sickening noise might have been a tooth snapping. She wriggled out from under him, waiting for his next move. He feinted, but Icepetal was prepared. She caught his exposed side, flipped him to the ground, and dug in her teeth. She expected Thistleclaw or Tigerstar to end the match right then, but neither of them spoke. Antpelt’s body became paler and paler until she could see the ground through it, and then he was gone entirely, and Icepetal was left with a mouthful of disgusting not-blood and no opponent left. “What happened?” she gasped, spitting out her former Clanmate’s greasy black blood. “Where’d he go?” “Well, that puts a bit of a boulder in our path, doesn’t it,” growled Thistleclaw. He turned to Icepetal. “He is dead. Twice.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-ONEDAWNSTREAMCloudpaw woke her up, excited. “Guess what, Dawnstream, I got my full name.” “Oh! What is it?” Dawnstream mewed, sitting up and starting to wash her paws. “Cloudchin.” They stuck out their muzzle, showing off their white chin. “Flametail said it was a pretty cool name.” “Well, he was right,” said Dawnstream. Harespring assigned Dawnstream to a hunting patrol out in the forest. For a moment Dawnstream was too tired to understand why she was suddenly queasy, but then she remembered Tigerheart. She hadn’t talked to him since Icepetal had said he liked her more. Things were not fully smoothed over with Icepetal. Jayfeather had told her that her sister was a spy now, but when Dawnstream had tried to talk to her, she had quickly become hostile. Dawnstream set off with Brackentail, Owlwhisker, and Tornear to hunt. She chased after a chickadee, but it fluttered away before she could catch it. She managed to catch a squirrel. It was fat from storing up for leafbare, and she scratched some leaves over it. “Hey.” Dawnstream reacted instantaneously. “What do you want from me go away I don’t want you you don’t belong here—” “Chill out. I haven’t crossed your border.” Tigerheart grinned. “Nice squirrel.” “You lied to me.” He looked hurt. “I did no such thing.” “You’ve been meeting Icepetal behind my back.” Tigerheart blinked, apparently thrown off by this announcement. “Well—well, you never asked about—that,” he managed. Dawnstream allowed her fur to bush out. “If you cared about my feelings at all, you would have told me.” “But I do care about you.” “No, Tigerheart. Leave me alone.” “You’re the one that hasn’t shown up to our meetings.” “Yes, and apparently for a very good reason,” she hissed. “What’s your problem?” “My problem is—isn’t there any cat I can trust?” “Trust me,” he pleaded. “Dawnstream, I love you.” Dawnstream shook her head. “Before I can trust you, you’re going to have to stop lying to me.” She uncovered the squirrel and took off with it. If Tigerheart followed he would be vulnerable to attack. He didn’t follow. Dawnstream skidded to a stop on the cold, dry leaves, feeling them crackle under her paws, and buried the squirrel again. I could see through the beavers’ eyes, she thought. Her idea was almost too good to be true. She let herself look through a nearby robin’s eyes. This is so weird. Seeing through the beaver’s eyes had been strange enough, but at least it had been vaguely catlike. The robin’s vision was extremely different with its beady little eyes pointing different directions to give it a wider field of view than Dawnstream was used to. There’s me.Dawnstream slowly focused herself so that she could see out of her own eyes without losing the robin’s view. It probably didn’t recognize her as a threat yet; it hopped closer, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the way its wings folded and the joints of its legs. This is one step away from me turning into a bird.She pounced. The bird tried to fly away, but she felt it moving, and she reached out with a paw and grabbed it. Dawnstream delivered the killing bite and dropped the robin. That’s what her power was for. She could use this to hunt and to fight. She would see and hear every signal her opponent caught. She didn’t catch much else, just a mouse, but the patrol returned successful. Leafbare was cold as always, but the cold was lessened by the still, static air and the warm sun. Dawnstream was ready to face the Place of No Stars. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO JAYFEATHERThe WindClan cats trudged through the grass. A light snow fell around them, and Jayfeather’s paws stung from the cold, although he would never admit it. The Gathering had brought sobering news. Rowanclaw had been killed by a RiverClan patrol. They weren’t the only ShadowClan cat killed, but Blackstar announced only his former deputy’s name, stating he had appointed Crowfrost in the tabby’s place. Lionstorm had been more saddened than Jayfeather at the news of Rowanclaw’s death. Jayfeather had hardly met them, but Lionstorm said that they had been very personable on the journey to the mountains, which did little for Jayfeather’s mood. Icepetal had been avoiding him. She had been avoiding nearly every cat; she would voluntarily hunt only with Furzepelt, who was apparently in on it and took every opportunity to stymie Jayfeather’s attempts to talk to his spy. Tonight he cornered her against the thorny wall of the camp. He could feel her discomfort, but it only annoyed him. “What have you learned?” he growled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said stiffly. “About the—” “Shut up. Leave me alone.” “Not until you talk.” “Jayfeather, all that’s been happening is training. Fighting. I don’t—” Jayfeather stepped closer. He was a small cat, but that would only make it worse if she attacked. Small and blind, not an opponent deserving of the full fury of the Place of No Stars. A single scream would bring the whole Clan down on her. “Tell me,” he ordered. Icepetal didn’t want to give up the names. I was pulled in, too. What right do I have to betray their trust? They’re all innocent so far, I think. More innocent than I am, anyway.But the other cats’ names littered her mind. Redwillow, Ratscar, Icewing, Furzepelt, Sunstrike. Hollowpaw, for whom she felt very sorry. Minnowtail—she was the cat who had beaten Lionstorm in battle, wasn’t she? Antpelt. No, there was something else. Icepetal’s teeth ripping into flesh that wasn’t there, foul, rotten blood oozing between them. Antpelt’s body, fading away until it vanished completely, leaving a stain on the brittle dead grass. “You killed Antpelt,” he breathed. “I did what I had to do.” “You had to kill a Clanmate.” “He was no Clanmate of mine. Antpelt was more at home in the Place of No Stars than he ever was with us.” “There is no us. Not until we beat the dark forest and you help us and die trying.” “I might be allowed into meetings now,” she whispered. “Ah, well, all’s well that ends well, is it? Justifies the means completely. Yes, you certainly have nothing to regret.” “What’s the matter with you? You told me to—well, that’s what I’m doing. Antpelt was a Place of No Stars warrior. That’s one of them down.” “I suppose,” Jayfeather conceded. It was true; if Antpelt had gone to the Place of No Stars, then he was their enemy. “I don’t think they’re onto me, but you’d better not mess it up for me.” Icepetal squeezed around him and stormed away. The snow was still falling, swirling around Jayfeather’s whiskers. He fluffed out his pelt. He would shelter in the medicine den with Kestrelflight while the other warriors retreated into the badger setts. Kestrelflight’s pelt was warm, and the mixing bitter and sweet herb scents around them soothed Jayfeather’s throat. It was hard to imagine that the Clans were so deep in conflict with the Place of No Stars even now. Cloudchin woke them, pawing through the herbs as they searched for the right one to treat Sunstrike’s upset belly. Jayfeather left the den, and the chilly air sliced back into his pelt. Mouse dung, he thought, shivering. He had a ShadowClan border patrol with Nightcloud and Weaselfur. Neither liked him much, but the patrol went smoothly. Blackstar respected the border, especially since the battle Icepetal had sparked. She had claimed to have seen a StarClan cat, hadn’t she? But then she had supposedly thought the Place of No Stars was a valley in StarClan’s land. She made that all up.Jayfeather wasn’t sure he could trust to Icepetal’s loyalty. He knew what he had seen in her mind, but when the battle came, whose side would she be on? There was no way to tell. He would have to watch out for her. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREEJAYFEATHER“What are they doing?” Crowfeather mewed.Jayfeather could hear the skittering of claws and stone sliding on the ice, but he wasn’t sure what was going on either. “Being mousebrained sacks of fur and risking their lives on that ice,” Breezepelt snarled. “What do you say we chase them back to ShadowClan?” “They aren’t on our territory,” Crowfeather reminded him. Jayfeather felt hatred roar through his half-brother. Oh, don’t pull that thing you did at the Moonpool again.Breezepelt definitely trained in the Place of No Stars, but there was nothing Jayfeather could do about it until it was safe to tell the Clan leaders about it. “Let’s go investigate,” suggested Crowfeather, padding down the short slope to the shore. Breezepelt growled something rude and stayed up on the moor, so Jayfeather followed his father. He didn’t like Crowfeather; the warrior was bossy at best; but this was clearly a game of choosing a side. He stepped onto the ice. It was smooth as a mountain path and so cold it burned his pawpads. “What’s this?” Crowfeather meowed to the ShadowClan cats. “Fun,” called Tigerheart. Jayfeather bit back a growl that rose in his throat at the warrior’s voice. He’s one of the traitors, too.“It’s a new game we made up!” Pinepaw chirped. “What you do is—hey, give me that pebble!” Dawnpelt’s paws crashed against the ice, and the sliding-stone noise started again. “You’ve got to get this pebble—into the other side’s—reed bed.” “Across the whole lake?” Jayfeather mewed. “No, it’s a little foldy bit in the shore.” “Oh, no, you don’t,” Ratscar crowed, and the dead reeds rattled as the ShadowClan warrior tumbled into them. “I got it,” Dawnpelt howled. “No, I got it,” Flametail assured her. “Ha!” The voice was the apprentice Starlingpaw, and Jayfeather heard a tiny thump as she dove to hit the stone. It clattered to the ground near Jayfeather, making him jump. “Get it, Jayfeather,” shouted Ratscar. Jayfeather bristled— Traitor!—and kicked the stone as far away as he could. “Not that way,” Ratscar complained, bounding past Jayfeather. “Be polite,” mewed Whitewater. “It wasn’t polite of him to throw our stone,” Ratscar pointed out. “Where’d it go?” “It went somewhere over there,” Olivenose shouted, and Jayfeather assumed she must be pointing. “I see it,” called Flametail. “I’m getting it.” Krrrrsh!No one else seemed to have noticed the sound, but Jayfeather was already on his paws, charging after Flametail, or at least where he thought the ShadowClan medicine cat might be. There was a loud crunch. Flametail shrieked. The noise came again, louder, and Jayfeather felt a web of cracks beneath his paws. “StarClan,” he gasped. Jayfeather plunged into the water. If I could just see I could get him out of here easily. Flametail, where are you?His paw brushed Flametail’s tail, and he pushed himself deeper. It would be difficult, but he could catch Flametail from here if he just dove a little farther. He could feel someone swimming above him. You’re too late to save Flametail.A wrinkled, hairless paw curled around his face from behind. “Let him go,” Rock ordered, somehow clear through the water surrounding them. “Let Flametail go. Let him die.” I had him, you mousebrain! Jayfeather hoped Rock could hear his thoughts; he couldn’t hear the ancient tom’s, so maybe his power exceeded those of the Three. “It’s his time to die,” Rock hissed. “Stop trying.” Jayfeather’s lungs burned for air. Let me go.Rock tightened his grip. I said let me go! I can’t breathe, Rock, I’m not a spirit or immortal, so get off. Rock wasn’t letting go. Jayfeather could smell his breath—it came in through his nose along with the water. Then the ice above him crunched, and paws grabbed him from above. A ShadowClan cat hauled him out of the water. “Thank StarClan you’re okay,” Crowfeather panted, clambering out onto the ice beside them. “That water is cold.” “Where’s Flametail?” growled Dawnpelt. “Didn’t get him,” Jayfeather coughed. “Didn’t get him? You were right there. I saw you. And then you weren’t.” I didn’t know Flametail couldn’t swim. “I tried to pull him up.” “It was probably a stray current,” Ivytail meowed, voice thick with grief. “Flametail’s death was an unfortunate accident. This game was dangerous from the start.” “We don’t even have a body to bury,” Dawnpelt wailed. “Jayfeather—didn’t anyone see Jayfeather push him?” “I didn’t push him,” Jayfeather snapped. “He broke through the ice.” “Which he wouldn’t have done on his own; Flametail was a pretty light cat,” Ratscar mumbled. Jayfeather thought only he had heard it. “Get out of here before I kill both of you,” Dawnpelt hissed. “I thought you were my friend, Jayfeather, not a murderer.” “I told you, I didn’t kill him.” “Come on, Jayfeather, let’s go.” Crowfeather herded him back to shore. “You might get sick from the cold water. You should visit Kestrelflight.” Jayfeather didn’t need sight to know the look Breezepelt gave him. Sick triumph and utter hatred in one. Breezepelt knew Jayfeather hadn’t killed Flametail, but he had a feeling the story Ashstar heard would be an altered version of the truth. To Jayfeather’s relief it was Crowfeather who told Ashstar what had happened, not Breezepelt. Kestrelflight gave him juniper for strength and told him to come back if he started feeling sick. He didn’t have the energy to face his Clanmates just yet, not with Breezepelt out there, likely as not telling other cats his version of the story, so he curled up and went to sleep. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR JAYFEATHERStarClan experienced snow during leafbare, too, but up here it was pleasantly cool rather than bitingly brisk. The breeze was warm on Jayfeather’s pelt and carried scents of prey and adventure. “Jayfeather,” mewed Spottedleaf, stepping daintily over to sit before the ferns. “Oh, it’s you.” Her amber gaze clouded. “What’s wrong?” “Flametail died today.” She nodded. “Deaths happen, Jayfeather. It isn’t your fault.” “It’s less his death and more—why? I could have saved him if Rock hadn’t interfered.” Jayfeather wrinkled his nose. “I almost died, too.” “Jayfeather, you are far too important to die,” she breathed. “Well, what was Rock doing, then?” he demanded. “I don’t know who Rock is.” Jayfeather stared. “You guys don’t know about Rock?” That would explain what he was doing still underground so long after the ancient cats had moved away. “Who are you talking about?” Spottedleaf sounded concerned. “He lives in the tunnels. He has a stick that he scratches to say whether or not a cat would get out of the cave and be a sharpclaw.” “A sharpclaw?” she repeated. “Like a warrior, but—they became the Tribe, not the Clans.” “The Clans were the Tribe once,” she said. Jayfeather narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?” “It is something I learned about when I joined the ranks of StarClan,” she mewed. “Before the Great Journey, StarClan had only the faintest of whispered legends that our families descended from cats far off in the mountains. Then the Great Journey happened, and we met the Tribe of Endless Hunting.” “Their names,” he realized. “Half Moon could have been Halfmoon. Fish Leap could have been Fishleap.” Lion’s Roar could have been Lionroar…or Lionstorm. Dawn River could have been Dawnriver…or Dawnstream. Jay’s Wing could have been Jaywing…or Jayfeather.She looked curious. “How do you know Half Moon?” “I was in love with her.” She closed her eyes. “I see.” “You were a medicine cat. What do you know about love?” Jayfeather knew he was being unfair to Kestrelflight, but he was upset with Spottedleaf. “I was in love with a cat I knew during my lifetime,” she murmured. “His name was Firestar. I held out hope for many seasons that he would grow to love me too, and we would be mates in StarClan.” “Firestar had kits. He had a mate.” He had spent enough time with StarClan and the Tribe of Endless Hunting that he knew this made no difference in the afterlife, but he wanted to argue with Spottedleaf. She was too serene and graceful; he couldn’t stand it. “Things work differently in StarClan.” She sighed. “Sandstorm and I would have no reason to fight. But Firestar does not love me in the way that I care so deeply for him.” Who cares? Something occurred to Jayfeather. “Last time I saw a StarClan cat it was Yellowfang. She said—something strange. She ranted about me being one of the Three, and then she said that wasn’t enough?” Spottedleaf nodded gravely. “Yes, the prophecy.” Jayfeather waited, but she didn’t continue. Impatient, he snapped, “Well? What is it?” “The Three are the Clans’ only hope to face the dark forest, but alone they will not suffice. So there is a new prophecy. Three must become four to battle the darkness that lasts forever.” “A fourth cat?” he groaned. “I suppose so.” She peered at his face, apparently checking his expression. “Who do you think it could be?” Why are you asking me? It isn’t like any cat bothered to tell me this before. “It isn’t as if my guess matters for anything.” “But finding the Fourth is very important. We need to reunite StarClan, you know.” “Well, do you have any ideas?” Jayfeather bristled. “You can’t dump this all on me now.” She regarded him sadly. “StarClan did not create this prophecy.” “So? You know what it says just as well as I do, and you’ve had all this time to think.” “How did you find Dawnstream?” she pressed. “Dawn River, and she had a power.” Jayfeather frowned. “I don’t know any other cat with a power.” “How hard can they be to find?” Spottedleaf beamed encouragingly at him, and he had to fight his urge to snarl. This isn’t the time for false cheer.Who else had he met with the Ancients? Whispering Breeze. Fish Leap. Dove’s Wing. Broken Shadow. Rising Moon. None of the first parts of their names were familiar as living Clan cats. Why didn’t I spend more time getting to know them? Furled Bracken. Stone Song. Dark Whiskers. Still nothing. Shade Pelt. Hawk Shadow. “Well, there’s no way it’s Hawkstar,” he growled, fur rising again. “To be part of the prophecy, they probably have to be kin of Firestar’s kin,” she murmured, and Jayfeather lashed his tail. She sounded like she was the one dreaming. “I don’t know everyone’s extensive family lineage,” snapped Jayfeather. “Why doesn’t StarClan ever help instead of sitting on your tails all day?” “I have not been sitting on my tail.” Her eyes flashed. “StarClan can’t know everything; no cat can. It’s not our duty to perform the impossible.” “But you expect me to.” She stood up to leave. “Jayfeather, my expectations are of no consequence. It is simply fact. Find the Fourth, or the Clans will perish.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVEHOLLYHEARTHollyheart was not, in fact, in StarClan. She had been found not by a spirit but by the gentle former warrior Daisy. With only a rudimentary knowledge of herbs, Daisy had struggled to heal her, but Hazelpaw, Mousepaw, Smoky, and Floss had helped. Hollyheart could not simply return to WindClan; that was obvious. Now that she was free from her title of warrior and all the responsibilities of Clan life, she was able to clear her head and think. She had thrown a tantrum, distanced herself from the other warriors in the Clan, and run away. At first Hollyheart had refused treatment. She had gone to the horseplace to get away from everything, not to impose on the loners there. Yet Daisy had been so concerned and motherly that it had not taken long for Hollyheart to give in. “You okay there?” Smoky meowed, stretching luxuriously on his hay bale. “Me?” “You’ve been asleep for ages.” He flicked his tail. “Mousepaw and Hazelpaw went out hunting without you.” That’s funny. Why’d they leave the barn? “They’re going to miss out on all the fat mice.” “Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Sometimes it’s more satisfying when you’ve got to work for your meal.” He grinned. “Mind you, sometimes. It’s the soft life for me.” Guilt twisted at Hollyheart’s heart. A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet.She wasn’t a warrior anymore. “Oh, you’re finally up,” Daisy mewed happily, trotting toward them. “When the Nofurs brought in the morning hay and you didn’t even stir I was worried you might be catching something.” “Nothing but mice,” Smoky purred. “Your kits are out there roughing it.” “Well, they do like to wander out there,” Daisy sighed. “They’ve never gotten over losing ThunderClan, poor things. I’m not sure if I have, myself.” “ThunderClan will come back eventually,” Hollyheart mewed. “No cat blames you,” Daisy assured her. “I just don’t see it happening if Onestar and Hawkstar are still out there.” Hollyheart had heard no news about WindClan since leaving, and she wasn’t exactly trying to uncover anything. That life was behind her. She went for a quick hunt. What WindClan wouldn’t give to eat these mice right now.“I’ll be right back,” she mewed to Daisy. Gathering up the mice she had caught, she squeezed out through a little gap beside the barn doors and dashed across the field. The snow was uneven and slushy from horse prints. The wind was sharp, but the sky was soft, and no new snow fell. For leafbare this was actually a fairly pleasant day. She scaled the fence, hopped down, and left her catch along a WindClan patrol route, far enough from the border that she didn’t expect RiverClan to get to it first. Heart pounding, she ran as fast as she could back to the shelter of the barn. Only once inside did she notice how cold her pawpads had grown, and now as they thawed all four of her paws began to hurt. Floss greeted her. “The others still aren’t back. I don’t know what’s gotten into them.” Mousepaw and Hazelpaw often disappeared, probably to sit by the fence. Hollyheart had been going with them to explore other areas past the horseplace, but they never invited her along when they went to the fence. They returned with WindClan scent on them. Mousepaw went straight to lie down on the loose hay behind the bales; Hazelpaw licked her fur clean and said to Hollyheart, “It’s warmer out there than you’d think.” “I went out earlier.” Hazelpaw looked mildly surprised. “Thinking of leaving?” “No, I’m only walking around. I’m allowed to leave the barn. What were you doing out there?” That might have come out a little more harshly than she intended it to. “I wasn’t accusing you,” Hazelpaw sniffed. “I just thought you were so retentive about the code and the prophecy before that you might want to go back and help them. And as for me, I was learning about fighting.” “WindClan doesn’t need my help,” Hollyheart growled. Hazelpaw shrugged. “You were saying before how you were going to save everyone. I only thought maybe you’d still care about the Clans.” “Of course I still care.” Hollyheart lashed her tail. “I just can’t go back to WindClan.” She knew what she had to do. Leafbare just didn't seem the right time. |
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:40:27 GMT -5
 CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SIX DAWNSTREAMAny of her Clanmates could be traitors. Dawnstream had known about the Place of No Stars for a while now, but she hadn’t realized the extent of their training program. Over leafbare Icepetal had apparently given Jayfeather a full list of names of the cats visiting that evil forest. It was much longer than Dawnstream would have liked. Icepetal had said the number was growing, too—she might not know all of the recruits. “Who’s that?” Whiskernose meowed, alert. “Where?” Dawnstream craned her neck to see. A very large, broad tortoiseshell approached their border with a dead thrush in his jaws. “That cat’s huge,” Whiskernose breathed. Dawnstream nodded in agreement and started toward the would-be intruder. Nightcloud and Lionstorm followed. “Greetings,” purred the huge tortie. “Look what I have for you.” They tossed the thrush to Nightcloud’s paws. “A plan in the works for many, many seasons. Tell me, are you still the bitter enemies of Blackstar? Why, then, take this to Onestar. Is it not proof enough of ShadowClan hunting on your land?” “We don’t want to fight ShadowClan,” Whiskernose mewed, confused. “Onestar is dead, Ashstar is our leader, and you are a menace to the Clans and all we stand for,” growled Nightcloud. “That’s Sol,” Lionstorm whispered, leaning toward the younger cats. He straightened up and meowed, “You have no business coming back here.” “You are one of the Three,” Sol said to Lionstorm. He turned to Dawnstream. “You, too, are one of the Three.” How does he know that? Dawnstream shot a look at Lionstorm, but he looked equally bewildered. You mousebrain, Lionstorm, you probably told him last time he was here.“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nightcloud warned, “but it’s time for you to leave. We aren’t interested in starting a war.” Sol’s eyes widened. “Do you mean to tell me still you adhere so religiously to that code you held so dear? That was but a hindrance to—” Nightcloud pounced. Dawnstream was scared for a moment—Sol was huge—but he apparently had no idea how to fight; he flopped his paws, suddenly ungainly, until the black she-cat pushed off from his muzzle and circled back to face him. “Leave now.” “You are making a grave mistake,” Sol meowed. “I could make WindClan great.” “WindClan is great enough with Ashstar,” Lionstorm snarled. “Leave us alone.” Sol narrowed his eyes and waited. Blood seeped from the fresh scratches Nightcloud had given him. “Very well.” “I’ll make sure he leaves,” Lionstorm volunteered, following Sol. “He came to WindClan seasons ago, saying that the sun would die,” Nightcloud explained as they traveled back to camp. “He convinced ShadowClan to stop believing in StarClan, and it took a miracle to get Blackstar back on track.” “So he wanted revenge on Blackstar for kicking him out,” Dawnstream guessed. “Most likely.” What a sad cat. He’s so bent on revenge he’ll do anything to get it.Lionstorm returned later with the news that Sol was gone and unlikely to come back anytime soon. Ashstar thanked him. Dawnstream was surprised to notice the guilty look Harespring sent Jayfeather and even more so to see the same expression on her old mentor’s face—what did they have to do with any of this? “I can’t believe he actually tried to do that,” Sunstrike mewed, eyes wide. “We know better than to fight ShadowClan. It’s one thing when StarClan says you should—quite another when it’s just another cat.” Larkkit and Crouchkit didn’t care much; they were too busy playing with a clump of moss. Kestrelflight obligingly batted the moss high into the air as he delivered the queen her herbs, and the two kits squealed in delight and chased after it. “Little bundles of energy,” he said brightly. “I remember when I was a kit.” “Kestrelflight, you were a kit longer ago than I was,” Sunstrike pointed out. He shrugged. “I get nostalgia rights.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SEVEN ICEPETAL“Cats of the Clans, I have an announcement to make,” called Tigerstar. “Soon our dreams will be a reality. No longer will we be limited to these dark, dark gloomy woods. We have broken into the real world.” Icepetal curled her tail apprehensively. Corporeal spirits swarming the Clans en masse.“Follow me.” Tigerstar leapt off the rock and swept past the gathered cats. Icepetal followed, hoping they wouldn’t have to fight today. A harsh wind howled between the trees, and Icepetal realized she was parched from the dry, bitter air. The Place of No Stars leaders took them far from the usual training grounds. When Icepetal squinted she could see stars and lush leaves. She was not the only one; most of the other living cats stirred at the sight of the border. Beside her Pinefur emitted a low growl, flicking her head up and down to locate the stars she could not see. Breezepelt kept his gaze averted. Redwillow and Icewing scoffed at the stars, saying the others were imagining things. “Stop mooning over light that isn’t there,” Tigerstar snarled. “Come with me.” Icepetal dragged her gaze down and followed Tigerstar’s pawsteps, head low. The spirits led them through a hole in the ground; Icepetal could see that the hole marked the border between the dark forest and the faintest starry light. They were in WindClan’s forest now. Icepetal glanced over her shoulder and found that they had emerged from a tiny hole near the stump of a tree. “How did you do that?” she asked Snowtuft. “Don’t ask questions. You have no authority.” “I am a Valley warrior.” He shrugged. She remembered with a pang of sorrow how friendly and inquisitive her nighttime mentor had once been. He had been acting. “Look at all this,” Tigerstar growled hungrily, eyeing a bat that flittered above. “Disgusting—this is what StarClan would keep from you.” “Keep from us,” said Breezepelt. “What does that mean?” Tigerstar narrowed his eyes. He appeared to be thinking of the best way to phrase his thoughts, but Icepetal was sure he was composing a new lie. “StarClan prefers only the cats they can control,” he said at last. “Once they have weeded out those they do not like, they will have full power over the remaining cats’ lives. You see, they seek authority without respect for living cats’ wishes.” Breezepelt nodded slowly. “I understand now.” Icepetal didn’t like the cold gleam in his amber eyes. That’s the kind of cat who would kill in a heartbeat.“Let me tell you a story,” Tigerstar meowed, springing onto a low-hanging branch. “This was once the home of ThunderClan. The fourth Clan.” Four Clans. Icepetal had heard vague references to this, but no one had ever told her what had really happened. Then again, how likely is Tigerstar’s version to be the truth?“ThunderClan was StarClan’s favorite. Their leader, Firestar, followed their every word dutifully. He stalled so that WindClan could not leave the forest territories until half their ranks had died before the Great Journey. He invaded RiverClan during a fire. He killed two of ShadowClan’s leaders personally. He wasted his own Clan’s prey on the weak, feeding them endlessly while the strong grew hungry and frail. “When Onestar became leader, Firestar prepared to take over WindClan from his old ‘friend.’ The fighting was vicious. Eventually Firestar died at the paws of his own deputy. Bramblestar would have been a powerful and courageous leader, but he was not blessed in StarClan’s eyes. They gave him his nine lives, and he bowed to them, earning their favor for a short time. He promised to defend his Clan using whatever means it took. “Until they became angry with him. StarClan killed Bramblestar and left ThunderClan to die. Still at war with WindClan, ThunderClan pursued battle. Without leadership, ThunderClan failed, and now they are all dead.” “Plus I once witnessed Firestar feed deathberries to a kit,” Darkstripe wheezed, snorting the blackish blood from his nose. “Sorrelkit, her name was, and she was a very bright young cat.” His dead eyes scared Icepetal more than Tigerstar’s speeches of glory. Darkstripe licked his lips and rattled, “Oh, I tried to save her, I did.” “Thank you, Darkstripe,” said Tigerstar, glaring at the scrawny silver tabby. “StarClan’s failure to recognize the true power in the forest has long been a source of anguish for all of us.” Isn’t that right, Icepetal thought ruefully. That’s how I ended up here in the first place. If StarClan had just chosen me instead of Dawnstream, this could all have been avoided.But I suppose then Jayfeather wouldn’t have his spy.“We have access to the other territories as well,” Tigerstar announced. The sun was beginning to rise. “We await your next visits.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-EIGHT JAYFEATHERJayfeather listened to Icepetal’s memories. He was not at all surprised to find that Breezepelt couldn’t see StarClan; the sullen tom was too far gone. He had not, however, expected them to break into the real world; this was a worrying step. Fighting the traitorous Place of No Stars trainees would be a hassle. Fighting the traitors in addition to the spirits would be near-insurmountable. Gorsetail led him and Heathertail on a patrol of the outside border. There was no sign of Sol or any other danger, though the wind that day was cruel. After they returned to camp, Jayfeather headed down into the tunnels. He stumbled on a strange object. His stick. He had forgotten about it for moons, yet here it was, farther up the tunnel than it had ever been before. Who’s been messing with my stick? he thought frantically. The scores of clawmarks had become even more numerous. Was there a new one for every time a cat returned to the tunnels? They were so close together that it was difficult to feel just how many there were. Jayfeather picked up the stick in his jaws and carried it to the cavern with the river and Rock’s ledge. Fallen Leaves appeared, gratitude shimmering in his round eyes. “You’re back,” said Fallen Leaves. “You can talk.” “I’ve always been able to talk, only you couldn’t hear me,” the spotted tom meowed longingly. “Oh, Jay’s Wing, I’ve tried so hard to get you to stay. Are you finally going to?” “I can’t stay here,” he barked, pelt prickling. “Fallen Leaves, I have a whole life up there.” “But you come here so often. Why don’t you stay with me?” he pleaded. “I’m so lonely. Rock barely ever talks to me, and he’s always down swimming in the water. I miss you, all of you. I see Dawn River sometimes, too. Won’t she stay with me?” “You’re a spirit. We’re alive.” StarClan, why does this have to be so difficult? He’s as mature as a newborn kit.“My mother is waiting for me,” Fallen Leaves informed him sulkily. “She won’t be happy when she finds out how much you’ve teased me. I’m hungry, Jay’s Wing.” Broken Shadow died seasons upon seasons upon seasons ago. “How about you just leave this cave?” “I can’t,” Fallen Leaves whimpered. “Well, I can’t stay down here.” Fallen Leaves slowly disappeared. I can’t do anything to help you.“Rock? You there?” Jayfeather growled, uncertain. He was fairly sure Rock had tried to kill him, but he wanted answers anyway. No answer. “Of course you can’t just talk to me. You’ve got to drag me around under the water and not make any sense.” Rock still didn’t appear. “Well, all right, then. I didn’t want to talk to you anyway.” Jayfeather sighed and rolled the stick under his paws. “What do I care about spirits and sticks and stars?” He was angry now. “I don’t. I don’t care.” I can’t even fight. “Why’d you make me blind, Rock? You’re the one who reincarnated me, aren’t you? Do you just like to laugh at me, or are you trying to get me killed? I need to fight to protect my Clan.” Jayfeather picked the stick back up and hit it against a stone tooth near the wall of the cavern. “You piece of fox dung, Rock,” he growled around it. “I hate you.” He put his paws up against the stick. It wobbled against the stone tooth, but he held it on both sides and shoved forward with all his might. It snapped in two. Jayfeather’s muzzle slammed into stone, and the splintered bend in the stick jabbed tiny pieces of wood into his throat. Mouse dung! He couldn’t get them out on his own; he couldn’t reach his throat with his teeth, and his paws would just shove them in deeper. Jayfeather grabbed the stick and threw it as hard as he could. Destroying it felt good. Then he walked back up to the surface of the earth and went to find Kestrelflight. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-NINE STORMFUR“Stormfur, it’s the flying stars again,” Brook called from the mouth of the cave. Many of the other cats had already gathered outside, and Stormfur hurried to join them. “I saw a big one,” Briarpaw whispered. “She made that one up,” Littlepaw complained. “Did not.” Honeyfern shushed them, and they quieted down. “There’s one,” said Night. Stormfur caught a glimpse of the flash just before it disappeared. “That was a good one.” The Tribe and ThunderClan cats stayed outside until the slow-moving clouds rolled over the whole sky. It had been a beautiful night for the flying stars. Stormfur had never noticed them until coming to live with the Tribe. The only time he had seen one, it had been incredibly bright and slow, and StarClan had called it a dying warrior. Heat lightning crackled in the distance. “Looks like the storm has returned,” Stoneteller meowed. From the old Stoneteller Stormfur would have taken this as a dig, but he suspected this cat was looking for signs from their ancestors. “Well, they have gotten pretty strong.” Sandstorm had been lost taking down an eagle, and Brightheart was deputy in her place, but otherwise ThunderClan really had become stronger. Stonecloud, Swooptail, and Skyheart were their newest warriors, and soon enough Briarpaw and Littlepaw would follow. Stoneteller nodded. “Make sure Thornstar knows he’s welcome to stay here as long as he wants…but I think there’s a good chance it’s time.” Stormfur flicked back his ear. “I will.” Thornstar got excited at the news. Stormfur’s pelt pricked with foreboding as he realized how old Thornstar was. I’m old, too.The distant storm grew closer. Stormfur had learned to appreciate the thunder. In the forest and lake territories, when it rained, dens got wet and the whole camp became muddy. Here in the mountains the cave sheltered them from the downpour, and the stones dried out under the sun. The sound of thunder still rattled Stormfur’s bones. Lark and Pine were old enough that they claimed it no longer bothered them, but they still tucked themselves between Stormfur and Brook to argue. “You will hear much less thunder if you sleep,” Brook murmured. “Mama, I like the thunder,” Lark shouted. “You do not.” Pine reached out a paw and batted his sister across the head. Another thunderclap made both kits retreat as far into their parents’ fur as they could. Stormfur could hear Thornstar, Rainstep, and Brightheart talking to some of their warriors. He would miss them when they left. The deluge had lessened by the next morning, although it had not given out completely. Stormfur picked up a slightly stale mouse from the freshkill pile and tossed it to his kits, who devoured it before remembering to complain. “It wasn’t even fresh,” he heard Pine huff, and Lark bowled him over. Thornstar announced that the goal would be to leave very soon. “We have spent three leafbares with the Tribe of Rushing Water. Thank you, Stoneteller and everyone, for all you have done for us.” “The Tribe of Endless Hunting suggested this day might come soon,” Stoneteller verified. “I think it is time to send out a patrol. Thornstar, are your cats to be available for patrol until your departure, or must you withdraw them to prepare?” “We can patrol,” meowed Thornstar. “Then I would like four cats to gather near the cave’s entrance for a border patrol.” Stormfur didn’t volunteer; he didn’t want to go out in the rain. Brook twitched her whiskers at him. “Didn’t you live in the water once?” “It wasn’t falling from the sky,” he purred. “Fair enough.” As the rain began to peter out, Stormfur prepared to go with a Tribe patrol to hunt. Sitting by the cave’s mouth, he thought he saw, distorted by the water, the silhouette of a lone cat approaching. “Who’s that out there?” he wondered aloud. Brook padded up to join him and stepped out of the cave, searching for a better view of the cat. “They look terrible,” she whispered. Stormfur had to agree. The strange cat had ragged black fur; they were dripping wet and bedraggled, and their gait suggested unhealed injuries. “We’d better get them inside.” He and Brook raced to meet the black cat and support them as they stumbled toward the cavern. A moon of questions raced through Stormfur’s mind, but now was not the time to ask any of them. This cat needed Stoneteller, or Rainstep, immediately. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY LIONSTORMLionstorm plodded through the mud. “It’s going to be a great newleaf,” he groaned. Breezepelt let out a breath slightly louder than usual, which Lionstorm thought probably meant he didn’t think it was funny but didn’t care enough to complain. “I just mean because it’s so gross down here.” His paws made noise as he set them down, which was uncomfortable since he usually walked so quietly. “It’s going to be muddy all season.” “I hate the mud,” Breezepelt growled. “We all do, but cheer up. It’ll be better by greenleaf.” Breezepelt laughed derisively. “The weather is not what will be better by greenleaf.” Lionstorm shifted his paws anxiously. Jayfeather had told him Breezepelt trained in the Place of No Stars and was one of few who could not see StarClan. It can’t be too late. It’s never really too late for any cat, is it?Breezepelt sure wasn’t making any effort to get along with his Clanmates. He had pushed his apprentice to death and spent every waking moment annoyed at someone or other. Heathertail almost had his kits. Lionstorm had tried his hardest not to be jealous, but a cat already as bitter as Breezepelt would probably not take kindly to the situation. Lionstorm would have talked to his half-brother about this, but he didn’t want to bring up the subject in case Breezepelt was trying to avoid it. “You know, WindClan is getting really strong,” Lionstorm mewed. “Soon we’re not going to have any trouble with Hawkstar.” “Do you remember when we saved those…mousebrained kits?” Lionstorm had the feeling Breezepelt had been about to say a very different word. “Don’t you remember how every cat went from making fun of you to calling you a hero?” “You were a hero, too.” Lionstorm remembered saving Gorsetail’s kits, but he didn’t remember a word from the conversation he was sure he’d had with Breezepelt afterward. “ Jayfeather was the hero. Jayfeather was the special one. He knew what he was doing. He led us down there. He brought back the kits. How thick can you be?” “I’m not thick,” Lionstorm protested. “Jayfeather led us, but we all went down there.” “You are Jayfeather’s littermate,” Breezepelt snarled. “And Heathertail is Onestar’s daughter. She never had anything to prove.” “We weren’t proving anything. We were saving kits,” mewed Lionstorm, dismayed. “This Clan has never given a mouse’s tail about me. Why should I care what happens to it?” Breezepelt growled. Lionstorm was afraid of the harsh light in the black warrior’s eyes. “I want Clanmates who respect me. I live by my own teeth, my own claws. Not the word of some long-dead warriors who were all soft in the head anyway.” Lionstorm blinked. “That’s not good.” “It’s as good as I make it.” Breezepelt lashed his tail. “Don’t you ever look outside your own little rabbit hole and see that not everyone is as magically loved as you?” “I’m not magically loved.” “You didn’t have to do anything to make your way in the Clan. You had Jayfeather to do it for you. Heathertail and Antpelt had Onestar. Harespring and Emberfoot had Kestrelflight. I had no one.” Is my place in the Clan really all because of Jayfeather? No, Breezepelt’s not making any sense. I’m popular because I’m such a good warrior, and that’s because of—No, it’s because of me. Not Tigerstar. Lionstorm’s paws were tense. “Breezepelt, you’re a great warrior. The Clan is lucky to have you.” “Then tell me why no one likes me.” Because you’re angry and standoffish and hate everyone. “Crowfeather was a bad father. I know that. But he isn’t the only cat in the Clan.” Breezepelt narrowed his eyes. “You’re grasping at clouds now. Lionstorm, for the Clans to be a place for any cat to really live, they’ve got to change. I think change will come soon. Make sure you’re on the right side when it comes.” “The side with StarClan and the warrior code and doing the right thing even when everyone hates you.” Lionstorm knew this was cheesy, but he wasn’t about to back down. Mentioning the Place of No Stars outright would just upset Breezepelt, and he didn’t want to chase him off. “StarClan doesn’t look out for all of us.” Breezepelt’s tone sent a shiver down Lionstorm’s spine. “Fall out of favor of StarClan, and you’ll be left buried in the earth with the dust and the dead things.” Is there no helping this cat? “Breezepelt, I know what you’ve been doing, and it’s really dangerous. Cats die there.” “Cats die every day. What do you think happened to Mottlenose, or Poppystream, or all of ThunderClan?” “We saw ThunderClan in the mountains.” Tigerstar told me to kill Thornstar. The Place of No Stars is angry at ThunderClan. They don’t want them to return.“We saw a band of rogues reliant on the mountain weaklings for survival,” Breezepelt hissed. “That was no Clan.” “You can’t fight against WindClan,” Lionstorm pleaded. “I fight against my enemies, Lionstorm.” Breezepelt turned and dashed away before Lionstorm could respond. “Well, Crowfeather’s not really your enemy,” he said anyway. “He’s just—” Crowfeather was never really even there for me. And he was much nicer to me than to Breezepelt. “You shouldn’t kill him,” he mumbled, but his words turned to ash in his mouth. StarClan, please don’t abandon him. He needs you. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE SQUIRRELFLIGHT“My name is Hollyheart. I’ve been here before.” The black cat raised her head with some difficulty. “The Clans are in danger. I can do nothing to help them.” “The same Clans that chased us away,” Squirrelflight hissed. Hollyheart closed her eyes and flopped down onto the cave floor again. “I do not defend what they have done.” “I remember you,” said Pebble. Much more quietly, she whispered to Screech, “This is the one who was all uptight about the rules.” “Oh. Her.” Screech stalked forward. “What do you want here?” “I am the daughter of Crowfeather and Leafpool.” “Leafpool,” Squirrelflight breathed. “You—you would have been my kit. If WindClan hadn’t chased us out.” “Lies help no one,” Hollyheart snarled. “Onestar is near to death, or maybe already dead.” “Stoneteller did see a sign, and I talked to Yellowfang,” meowed Rainstep. “She said much the same thing.” “Now,” Hollyheart rasped. “Now is the time to reaffirm our places amongst the Clans and to reestablish the forgotten warrior code.” “Why did you come here alone at such a strange time?” growled Thornstar. He was not ready to forgive the lakeside Clans, particularly WindClan. “A prophecy. But it isn’t me—the Three are all in WindClan. Kin of Firestar’s kin.” Hollyheart haltingly rolled onto her paws, though she remained lying down. “The Place of No Stars is rising.” “No stars,” said Rainstep, looking nervous. “What’s that?” “I’ve come to seek your help. The dead cats—the bad ones—want to kill us all. I can do nothing on my own.” “Leafpool is afraid,” Squirrelflight whimpered. “Tension has been rising, hasn’t it?” “Hawkstar walks among the Place of No Stars. He threatens to destroy WindClan and ShadowClan,” panted Hollyheart. Shock rippled through the ThunderClan cats. After a pause, Brightheart asked, “Hawkstar? In RiverClan?” “Do you know what Hawkstar’s warrior name was?” Sorreltail mewed, wrapping her tail around her paws. “It wasn’t Hawkfrost, was it?” “I think that was it.” Hollyheart squeezed her eyes shut. “He kept leading—patrols. Into our territory. And his deputy, Dawnflower.” “StarClan did say we could go home soon,” Rosefoot mewed, looking at Rainstep. “Any cat who thinks StarClan’s always looking out for us is a mousebrain,” croaked Dustpelt. “They wouldn’t tell us to return so that they could kill us,” Rainstep meowed. Hollyheart struggled to sit up a little. “The Place of No Stars spirits—Tigerstar, mostly—are training living cats to turn against their Clanmates.” “Before there is peace, blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red,” Squirrelflight remembered. “Leafpool said that when Bramblestar killed Firestar, but there isn’t peace. Not yet.” “Why would that prophecy go to a ThunderClan cat,” wheezed Hollyheart, “unless you were meant to fulfill it?” “ThunderClan has become strong again,” mused Rosefoot. “I just don’t want to go to a place that has Hawkstar and Onestar trying to kill us. Can we really count on Blackstar to—is Blackstar still alive?” “The last I know, he is. And Onestar feels great remorse over what he has done.” Hollyheart coughed. “It does not change the past, but I think that ThunderClan will be received back home.” “I’m going to have to talk to Yellowfang again,” Rainstep fretted. Squirrelflight had never met Yellowfang, though she had heard she was the medicine cat before Cinderpelt. Why didn’t Cinderpelt ever show up in StarClan? “I don’t see the danger,” said Cloudtail. “What does that mean?” Hollyheart gasped. “If Onestar is sad or dead, then we only have Hawkstar to worry about. Three Clans on one—it’s not a fair fight, but I’d say it’s justified if he’s going to do a BloodClan. We fought four on one back then.” “The Place of No Stars cats will support Hawkstar,” Rosefoot reminded him. “There’s no way that’s more than half the Clans,” Cloudtail meowed, swishing his tail and shrugging. He was old but somehow seemed stronger even than Squirrelflight. “RiverClan can’t all be happy with Hawkstar, so we’ll still have an advantage.” “And Tigerstar and Brokenstar and all the other dead cats down there,” said Fireclaw. “And they’re better fighters from all that training.” Cloudtail sighed. “When was the last time any of you saw StarClan outside a dream? There is nothing to fear from the dead.” “You should have more faith.” “I’ve never put any stock in StarClan. Or the prophecies, for that matter,” meowed Cloudtail. “I’ll fight on StarClan’s side over Hawkstar any day, but it’s by my own merit I’m a warrior.” “You sound like Mousepaw,” Hollyheart said. “Mousepaw must be very smart,” Cloudtail meowed. “I say when Rainstep tells us to go we go.” “If he says to go,” Brightheart cautioned. “He will,” predicted Cloudtail. “Now who wants to go hunting with me?” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-TWO JAYFEATHER“You’re back again,” breathed Fallen Leaves. “I thought you weren’t coming back this time.” “What makes you so certain I’m going to stay with you?” Jayfeather sighed. “Rock said you would stay here forever,” the ginger-and-white tom whimpered. “I wanted to talk to you about Rock.” “That’s why he didn’t tell you the rain was bad.” Fallen Leaves swallowed. “I tried to help you out, I really did. Can you help me leave?” “You already know the way out,” Jayfeather reminded him. “You know all the ways out, don’t you?” “Yes, but I can’t use them.” Fallen Leaves sounded pained. “The closest I’ve ever come, I swam to the lake, but I could never get out from under the ice.” “Rock never told me the rain was bad?” Jayfeather mewed, hoping he wouldn’t upset Fallen Leaves too much. He wanted answers. “What do you mean, the rain is bad?” “When it rains up above, the river becomes fierce.” Fallen Leaves bared his teeth as if to imitate the thunderous water. “It rained hard the day you came down here. Rock did not want you to escape. He told you it was all safe. I would have told you he was wrong, but he warned me not to talk. You couldn’t hear me anyway.” “But I got out,” said Jayfeather, puzzled. “Jay’s Wing got out.” “I don’t know how you did it,” Fallen Leaves whispered. “I saw you die. You couldn’t swim fast enough. The water was up over your head, and you tried so hard, and I tried to push you along, but I could barely touch you, you were so real.” “Jay’s Wing died down here?” Fallen Leaves nodded. “You were without air too long. You stopped breathing—you drowned.” Jayfeather’s pelt ruffled, and it wasn’t against the cold. I’ve always been afraid of drowning. “And Rock let that happen…on purpose?” “He didn’t like you. He said Jay’s Wing would destroy his cats. The ones he made sharpclaws.” The spotted tom leaned closer and lowered his voice. “He said you would take them away forever.” “They had to go to the mountains, or the Clans would never be able to live here.” “You did? But then…why is Dawn River still here?” “She’s not Dawn River. That’s Dawnstream. My apprentice. You see, I’m not really Jay’s Wing; I died and now I’m alive again.” “How?” Fallen Leaves’ eyes clouded with confusion. “Can I come back to life, please?” “I have no idea how.” Jayfeather ducked his head. Hopefully Fallen Leaves would not blame him. “I can’t bring you back to life any more than I can get you out of this tunnel.” “I was afraid of that,” Fallen Leaves murmured. “How much longer will I be down here?” Probably forever. “I’ll see if I can help you, but I don’t know if there’s anything at all that I can do.” “That’s nice of you.” He was sincere. “Rock says I can’t have help, because my family is dead, and you and Dawn River should be, too. He says Lion’s Roar was here sometimes. I never knew Lion’s Roar when I was alive.” “He was born in the mountains after they left. After we left.” “Broken Shadow didn’t want to leave me,” Fallen Leaves informed Jayfeather. “Broken Shadow loved me and would never leave without me.” Jayfeather tried not to remember the queen’s anguished wailing. “Yes. She loved you very much. She was heartbroken when you didn’t return.” “I will return to her when I can.” Jayfeather felt sorry for this cat. Season after season of almost total solitude, with only a mysterious and murderous Rock as company, and he hadn’t even matured at all, because he was a spirit. He’s been down here forever, and yet I’m older than he is.“That’s good. Broken Shadow will be very happy to see you again.” “Falling Rain and Falcon Swoop are very proud of you, I think.” Who are those? Jayfeather thought, panicking for a moment, but he had to just go with it. “Well, I sure hope that they are.” They’re probably Jay’s Wing’s parents. That’s right—I didn’t have any when I visited the Ancients, and I don’t remember those names. Some cat might have mentioned them, but they certainly weren’t anyone he’d ever met. “Are you staying this time, then?” Fallen Leaves asked hopefully. “No.” “Oh.” The light went out from his eyes. “Will you come back again?” “Yes. Don’t worry.” “Why did you break Rock’s stick? He is upset with you even more now.” “Rock can stuff himself,” Jayfeather sniffed. He was glad he had broken Rock’s prized stick. Any cat who wanted him dead was no friend. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE ICEPETALThe battle would be soon. No cat had announced it, but Icepetal could feel the shift in the Place of No Stars leaders’ demeanors. They were tense now, waiting for the day. There were five routes now into the real world, though Icepetal was sure she had heard Thistleclaw say the whole attacking patrol would depart from ThunderClan’s old forest. Icepetal sat with Hollowflight and Applefur. The ShadowClan warrior didn’t seem to realize what her nighttime mentors were up to, and Hollowflight was still a tiny nervous wreck. “Come to the Twisted Tree,” Snowtuft called, pelting through the dark trees. Icepetal got to her feet. The Twisted Tree was a sycamore that had grown improperly, and Tigerstar and Brokenstar used it like Onestar and Ashstar used the Tallrock. She followed Applefur to the clearing. Living and dead cats alike crowded below the Tree. “Greetings, everyone,” called Tigerstar in the richest voice she’d ever heard him use. “Glory will be upon us shortly.” A buzz of excitement passed through the crowd, mixed with a little bit of confusion. “Today marks the day we join together for good,” Tigerstar meowed. “You are not from three Clans anymore. You are one being! You breathe the same air, fight the same battle, win the same victory. We are not strong divided in three. Now is the time to unite! Do we stand or fall? It is up to you. “Warriors, apprentices, all. The code is no more. We must rise from this shadow which the stars have impressed upon us. I call upon you all to place your paws with us. “Cats of the Clans, we here in this Valley must choose now who we are. We will face nothing we have ever seen before. Nothing simple, nothing easy. But triumph will be ours. Where do you stand? Are you with us?” At first the response was a resounding agreement. Icepetal almost let herself get caught up in it; his words had struck a chord with her, and probably with most of the others here, too. He’s evil, she had to remind herself. “What do you mean, the code is no more?” a RiverClan cat piped up. “What is your name, cat?” growled Tigerstar. There was a warmth to his voice, but Icepetal knew it was false. “Beetlewhisker. And—I don’t think we should turn our backs on the warrior code. With all due respect, Tigerstar, I think it is time for me to leave.” “Leave,” Tigerstar said in mock disbelief. “Why would you want to leave the Valley of No Stars?” Beetlewhisker padded forward, and Icepetal clamped her jaws shut. She could not give herself away now. “The warrior code is what teaches us to be strong. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you will never turn me against the code, or against RiverClan. “My Clan thinks there are rogues on our territory because of you. They’re frightened by our visits to their territory. I don’t want to be part of that.” Beetlewhisker stood up straighter. “I appreciate everything you’ve taught me; I really do. You’ve made me a stronger warrior than I could ever dream of being. But I can’t stay here. I need to leave and protect my Clan. I won’t be coming here again.” “You’re right. You won’t be coming here again,” Tigerstar growled. “Darkstripe, escort him out.” “Oh, right away,” Darkstripe said hungrily, and he pounced on Beetlewhisker. Brokenstar got there first and tore the tabby-and-white tom to shreds before he could react. Icepetal heard the snap of his neck. Tigerstar scanned his crowd. “If anyone else is uncomfortable with their training, they are invited to speak up now.” “Uncomfortable with our training,” Breezepelt spat. “How could we be? This is the only way to make a path for ourselves. Beetlewhisker was a weak fool who failed to recognize his true allies. I’ve learned more here in this valley than I ever could on the moor, and you’ve given me a home I never had. This is my home. You are my Clanmates. I would have no other.” I’ll kill him in the battle, she promised Jayfeather. She didn’t think he could read her mind while she slept, but she knew he would appreciate this anyway. “Breezepelt is right,” Redwillow purred. “Soon Blackstar and Ashstar will regret their weakness.” He licked Icewing’s ear. “We will have it all.” “And feast on our own glory,” Icewing purred back. Beetlewhisker was your son, Icewing! Icepetal thought in horror. Don’t you care about him at all? I guess I’ll be killing them, too.“I think it’s time to pay RiverClan territory another visit,” Hawkstar meowed. “Of course.” Tigerstar bared his teeth. “They’ll appreciate it.” Icepetal’s heart twisted as she stepped over the remains of Beetlewhisker’s body. She hoped his spirit would go to StarClan; what he had done was braver than she had expected from any cat training in this place. I’m sorry, Beetlewhisker. If Jayfeather didn’t need me, I would have defended you.It wouldn’t have made much difference to the RiverClan warrior, but she couldn’t shake her own guilt. When the battle comes, I’ll set things right, I promise. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FOUR JAYFEATHER“Where is everyone?” Jayfeather snapped, padding through StarClan’s territory. There was barely scent or sign of any cat. “Hello? Are you there?” “What are you doing here? You’re a WindClan cat,” someone high above his head griped. “StarClan doesn’t have borders,” Jayfeather said nervously. He knew it had been divided recently, but he wanted this cat to help him. “It does now.” The cat slowly hopped down branch by branch to the ground, puffing from the exertion. “What do you want?” “Well, I’m looking for Flametail.” “What do you want him for?” “He was the last-dead medicine cat of ShadowClan. I need to talk to him.” “You aren’t Kestrelflight or Cloudchin,” the StarClan cat growled. “I’m part of the prophecy,” snapped Jayfeather. “Take me to Flametail.” Barkface, Mudfur, and Spottedleaf—or Yellowfang, but she was always off with the rest of ThunderClan’s ancestors near the Tribe of Endless Hunting—wanted to meet with him. “I don’t know of any prophecy,” muttered the cat, “but I guess you’re the authority here, aren’t you?” “Well, then, find him.” “Do you not know what sarcasm is?” “The Place of No Stars is going to kill us all if you don’t do what I say.” The other cat’s eyes widened. “So it’s true.” They blinked. “My name is Nightstar. Come with me.” Nightstar led him through the forest, then stopped and pointed a paw forward. “Flametail likes to stay right over there. Good luck.” When Jayfeather entered Flametail’s clearing, the ginger tom arched his back and ran away. Jayfeather chased after him. The medicine cat zigzagged through the forest, and Jayfeather’s sides started to ache. Would he ever stop running? He leapt off a boulder in the path and straight into the mud. Flametail circled back and stood at the edge, smirking. “Help me,” Jayfeather cried. He tried to move his paws, but they were stuck. “Get me out of here.” “No.” “Flametail, I’m going to die,” Jayfeather begged. “That’s the point.” He flicked his tail. “I drowned on your watch. You can drown on mine.” “I tried to save you.” Flametail narrowed his eyes. “Until you stopped trying.” “Rock pulled me away.” “Who is Rock?” “Hard to explain. He tried to kill me, too,” Jayfeather meowed. “Please save me.” Flametail shrugged. “You shouldn’t have come after me again.” “StarClan needs to unite again.” Jayfeather tried to unstick himself from the mud, but he couldn’t get out. “Flametail, help me.” “Get him out of there,” Spottedleaf cried. “He can’t die here,” Mudfur meowed, picking his way over the stones to Jayfeather. “For StarClan’s sake, Flametail, help him,” Barkface scolded. The three medicine cats reached down to haul Jayfeather out of the mud, and Flametail helped them, embarrassed. “He killed me.” “Jayfeather did not kill you,” Barkface meowed. “It is the same as for any medicine cat. The failure to save a cat is not the same as a kill.” “StarClan needs to pull together,” Jayfeather told Flametail. “StarClan—and the Tribe of Endless Hunting.” “ThunderClan will return,” Spottedleaf mewed. “Every paw we can get is vital to the survival of the Clans.” “I’m sorry I didn’t save you,” said Jayfeather. Flametail dipped his head. “I’m sorry I let you sit in the mud.” “Onestar, Nightstar, Firestar, and Leopardstar are starting to round up their Clans,” meowed Mudfur. “Flametail, with you at our sides, we will have StarClan united for this battle.” “Jayfeather.” Flametail’s gaze hardened again. “Make sure the Clans are united down at the lake, too. Make sure every cat is ready.” “Take heed, Jayfeather,” said Barkface, just as Spottedleaf had on the night he had accidentally entered the Place of No Stars. “What you see and hear here is true. Follow your instincts, unite the Clans, and you will survive.” “I will,” Jayfeather promised. He felt himself waking up. He hadn’t achieved much within StarClan, but he would talk to Ashstar tonight. According to Spottedleaf, ThunderClan would return. As long as the Clans defeated the Place of No Stars, there would be four once again. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FIVE LIONSTORMLionstorm padded after Ashstar. Jayfeather and Dawnstream followed him, and Harespring brought up the rear. Kestrelflight stayed at camp, but Cloudchin walked with Ashstar. They reached the island relatively quickly. They traveled faster than they would for a Gathering; RiverClan’s patrols would likely be hostile, even though the lakeshore was neutral territory. Blackstar, Crowfrost, and Tawnypelt already waited there, as did Mothwing, Willowshine, and Reedwhisker. Blackstar glared at the WindClan cats. “Why have you brought so many with you?” “We are not here to fight,” Ashstar assured him. “Jayfeather has told me something very important.” “I would like to know what’s so important that you need double the cats as anyone else,” Blackstar growled. “You can’t call a meeting and then show up with a fighting force.” “I will let Jayfeather, Lionstorm, and Dawnstream explain.” She dipped her head. “Well, the first thing you should know,” began Lionstorm, “is that the bad cats don’t go to StarClan, but they also don’t disappear. They go to a separate afterlife called the Place of No Stars. So Tigerstar, Brokenstar, all of them, they’re still around.” “They’re training cats to fight against their Clanmates,” mewed Dawnstream. “They start out by saying they’ll make cats stronger warriors, but then eventually they teach them killing moves and say that the code doesn’t matter.” “And they’ve been getting fiercer,” Lionstorm added. “It used to be that it would take moons for things to get ugly. Now they’re violent every time.” “We know this because we have a spy,” Jayfeather cut in. “I can’t tell you who it is, but they’ve been giving us the information we needed to figure out what to do.” “They have a bunch of routes into the real world. Those aren’t rogues on your territories—they’re Clan cats and spirits.” Dawnstream shivered. “They’re in ours, too.” “Why are you the ones telling us this?” Willowshine asked. “Don’t get me wrong. You seem like good cats, and I feel like I know you wouldn’t mislead us, but I can’t trust enemy warriors.” “We are the subjects of a prophecy,” Jayfeather explained. It felt strange to hear him say it out loud after so many moons of keeping it a secret. Telling Ashstar had been strange enough; she was their leader and Jayfeather’s mentor. Now all three lake Clans would know. “There will be three, kin of Firestar’s kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws. That’s us. And we have powers: I can see your thoughts and emotions, Lionstorm is invincible in battle, and Dawnstream can experience all of the senses through another cat’s body, or even another animal.” “That’s how I knew about the beavers.” “And that’s why I never get hurt fighting your patrols,” Lionstorm meowed, dipping his head to Reedwhisker. “You crushed Russetfur with your powers,” Crowfrost growled. Lionstorm swallowed. “I didn’t mean to. I swear. Russetfur was frailer than I realized. I was just trying to take her off of Onestar.” “Past grievances must be set aside for the time being,” meowed Ashstar. “All three Clans must be ready to fight on behalf of the warrior code.” “And not just three,” Jayfeather said. “I spoke to Spottedleaf in StarClan. ThunderClan is coming back.” “I trust they’ll be staying this time,” Tawnypelt growled. Ashstar held her head high. “WindClan is fully ready to accept ThunderClan back. What we did under Onestar was inexcusable, but we welcome their return with open paws. Do not underestimate me: I have not forgotten what it was like to be without a home. I feel for their plight, and I will assist them however they need.” “The point is, we need to be ready to fight the traitors in our Clans.” Lionstorm looked at Blackstar and at Mothwing. The RiverClan medicine cat didn’t look convinced. “We cannot count on ThunderClan’s return. Traitors among our ranks are to be dealt with, but don’t let superstition overrule common sense.” “Common sense tells us to do as StarClan commands,” Blackstar said softly. Lionstorm knew better than to make a snarky comment, and he hoped Jayfeather would hold his tongue as well. Mothwing narrowed her eyes but said nothing. “Why should we trust WindClan?” Crowfrost demanded. “You have three cats with StarClan-granted magic powers. You could just storm our camps and kill us.” “Which we have not done,” Ashstar pointed out. “WindClan is not eager to repeat our recent history.” “Just be ready for the Place of No Stars,” Jayfeather hissed. “We will,” Blackstar assured him coldly. “It won’t be much longer now,” Lionstorm told him. “You can trust us or not after the battle, but for now we’re not the threat. Tigerstar and Brokenstar are back.” The huge white tom stiffened. “That is right. I will be ready. You can be sure that I will defend my Clan with my life.” Lionstorm had touched a nerve, though he didn’t know what he had done. “Well, good. We all have to fight.” Ashstar, Blackstar, and Mothwing talked for a long time about the upcoming attack. Icepetal had not provided any real timeframe. It would be up to Dawnstream to watch during her dreams; the little calico had changed her sleep schedule, and Ashstar had allowed it, though she had not at first understood. They seemed to reach a consensus, and the WindClan patrol headed home. The battle could be any day now. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SIX DAWNSTREAMIcepetal stayed in one place while Tigerstar and some cats whose names Dawnstream didn’t really know rounded up all of the Place of No Stars trainees and residents. Many of the spirits were faded nearly to the point of invisibility, though she knew they were still tangible and could fight as well as anyone else. Dawnstream watched as Icepetal greeted a white spirit. She had seen him before, but she didn’t remember his name. He dipped his head. “So tonight’s the big battle, then,” Icepetal mewed. Dawnstream felt her chest tighten. “Sure is.” The white tom grinned, malice gleaming in his gray eyes. Tigerstar climbed fluidly up the twisted tree before the gathered cats and cleared his throat. The last few stragglers found places in the crowd. “Tonight we kill the code,” he announced. “Tonight we win our fight and remove the deathly hold StarClan has held long over the living. Tonight we take our places among the victorious and begin anew.” “We must be off,” Brokenstar rasped. “Let us now go.” Dawnstream hunkered down in the sett where she and a few other WindClan cats curled up. “They’re preparing to attack,” she whispered. No one around her woke, though Breezepelt twitched his paws. How does this all work? she wondered. Icepetal’s body was next to her, still breathing, and yet she was at the same time beginning to emerge into the gloom of the wooded part of WindClan’s territory. Before Dawnstream could think of anything to do about this, the white form of her sister disappeared from in front of her. Breezepelt and Furzepelt vanished not a moment later. Rain bounced off Icepetal’s back, making Dawnstream shiver. She didn’t mind getting her paws wet, but the rain was unseasonably cold. Keeping Icepetal’s senses in her mind, Dawnstream gritted her teeth and pelted out into the rain. Now she felt it doubly strong, almost as if she could swim through the air. “Jayfeather,” she spluttered. He was out of the medicine den immediately, Cloudchin and Kestrelflight following suit. “What’s happening?” “They’re attacking. They’re—they’re all over in the forest somewhere.” Dawnstream paused, watching. “They’re almost to the Moonpool stream, only I don’t think that’s all of them. I think some of them must have gone to ShadowClan.” The Place of No Stars patrol traveled quickly. They crossed the stream, getting all their paws muddy. Guess they didn’t know about the stepping stones.Cloudchin scrambled to begin waking the remaining warriors. “They’re very close to WindClan—” “Wait,” Icepetal cried, and Dawnstream broke off; it was very disorienting to talk through two mouths at once. “Wait, Applefur, everyone, please!” “What?” mewed a mottled she-cat who must have been Applefur. “Wait for what?” “We don’t have to do this,” Icepetal gasped. “Please, don’t turn your back on your Clan.” “What are you saying?” roared Redwillow. “This is your Clan, or had you forgotten already?” “They’re almost here, but they’re fighting,” Dawnstream said quickly. Icepetal was talking again. “Please, we can’t fight our own Clanmates. You’re all strong enough already. We need StarClan.” “Then let’s take the fight to them.” Kestrelflight took a deep breath and bellowed, “The enemy is close by! Attack!” Applefur and the other trainees near Icepetal seemed to agree. “I’m sorry, Silverhawk, but I’m not going to hurt cats just to make you happy,” the ShadowClan queen growled. “You liar,” the RiverClan warrior Icewing hissed. “We can’t abandon the code,” a confused little RiverClan warrior objected, stumbling in the mud, before righting himself and launching himself at a half-faded spirit. Icepetal shouted encouragement at him. Redwillow turned back to Icepetal. “You stop that right now!” So most of the trainees would fight on the Clans’ side, but not all of them would. You did your best, Icepetal.Fear gripped Dawnstream’s chest. Tigerheart?He was part of the ShadowClan camp Place of No Stars patrol, and Dawnstream breathed a sigh of relief as Tigerheart yowled, “We’re coming for camp, Blackstar!” and turned to take down the grimy silver tabby she’d seen in Icepetal’s dreams. The ranks of the Place of No Stars were immense. Dawnstream focused on her own senses, her own eyes, and readied herself to fight. RiverClan cats swarmed over the rainswept moor toward WindClan’s camp. “It’s okay, we’re here to help you,” Willowshine panted. “Mudfur sent me.” Dawnstream nodded and turned to face the evil spirits. Redwillow and Icewing would be among them, and it was hard to imagine Breezepelt fighting for his Clan. A wiry gray tabby rose to meet Dawnstream. The battle for the stars had begun. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SEVEN ICEPETAL“Good, Hollowflight, get that spirit,” Icepetal roared. Please, StarClan, let this turn easy.“You stop that right now,” Redwillow hollered. “You’re a traitor to the entire cause.” “I’m a traitor only to traitors,” Icepetal hissed. Redwillow pounced; she darted forward and slammed her head into his belly, knocking him down. Redwillow squirmed away and brought his teeth down on her shoulder. Icepetal twisted sideways, hooked the claws of both forepaws into his fur, shoved him to the ground again, and plunged her teeth into his soft flesh. The ShadowClan warrior howled. Icepetal drove her paw into his bottom jaw, snapping his head back. He didn’t have a chance. He would be back later as a spirit, but at least that was one death down. Rain dripping into her eyes, Icepetal searched for her next opponent. Icewing was occupied fighting someone else and did not see her mate go down. The small tabby Sparrowfeather, whom she had not seen since stump training, sprang onto Icepetal’s shoulders. I’ve grown, Icepetal realized, twisting aside to crush Sparrowfeather against the ground. “I should’ve known you were a traitor when you killed Antpelt,” Sparrowfeather hissed, sidestepping lightly. That’s not fair! I didn’t want to kill him. “Antpelt was the traitor, not me.” “You betrayed all of us,” Sparrowfeather growled. “You have betrayed every cat at this lake.” Icepetal grabbed the small tabby around the neck and ducked swiftly, butting her in the nose when Sparrowfeather tried to bite at her throat. The WindClan cats were arriving now, and she thought she saw RiverClan cats as well, though they might have been trainees earlier that night. Sparrowfeather raked her claws over Icepetal’s back. “Thistleclaw should have killed you when he had the chance.” “It’s a good thing he didn’t,” Icepetal retorted. She wrenched backward and kicked Sparrowfeather to the ground. “You’d destroy the forest if he had.” “It’s you and your weak hearts that are destroying the forest,” Sparrowfeather hissed. She leapt for Icepetal again, but this time she was ready. Icepetal sprang straight up, twisted in midair, and caught Sparrowfeather’s throat in her jaws. She bit down as she landed. The black blood seeping from her throat was all that remained of Sparrowfeather. Icepetal’s eyes darted from cat to cat for a moment. “Weaselfur,” she called. Instead of answering, he snarled with rage and threw himself at her. “Weaselfur, I’m on the Clans’ side,” she snapped, kicking him down. “Exactly. A traitor.” Her mentor swung both paws to grab her. She ducked, but he brought them down on the back of her head. “I can’t believe after all these moons—you’re still the weakest link.” “I am not weak,” Icepetal roared, getting her teeth into his chest and ripping back. “You’re too weak to follow the most important rules we have.” “What, to feed the old and sick before myself?” He swatted her jaw, ripping her cheek. “Do you really feel that Tawnyfur is more important than I?” “Tawnyfur is my mother,” Icepetal shouted. She pummeled the wound she had made on Weaselfur’s chest with both forepaws, and he backed up, gagging and gasping for air. “She is more important than you.” Weaselfur was apparently lightheaded from the blood pouring from his chest. “Stop it,” he barked, but his voice was thin and scratchy. Icepetal darted away. He wouldn’t be able to follow, and unless there were evil dead medicine cats here who knew where to find herbs, he would receive no medical attention. “Snowtuft,” she yowled. “There you are,” he hissed, charging out of the fray and pouncing for her. “I was wondering where you’d gotten to.” Icepetal knew all of Snowtuft’s moves. He had spent so long teaching her that she was used to every attack. This time, though, he was joined by another cat, an almost invisible one she thought she recognized as Maggottail. “Who would name their newborn Maggotkit?” she crowed. She couldn’t see the color of his fur. His form looked less than mist. Maggottail pulled back his lips in a terrifying snarl. “They knew from my birth that this day would come.” There was an offputting glint in his pale blue eyes, and she remembered that he had wandered the Place of No Stars longer than any cat. “I was always to win this very battle.” Icepetal snarled. “Fine, then.” Snowtuft smashed into her shoulder, and she whirled. I can’t fight both these cats at once.Maggottail’s terrible claws caught onto her spine. Help me! He dragged her out from Snowtuft’s grasp, then threw her back into the white tom’s claws. “Get off her,” someone else yowled, and Snowtuft jolted sideways. “I’ve got you, Icepetal,” Hollowflight meowed. “We’ll fight them off together.” Grateful for his help, Icepetal turned to claw at Maggottail. The Clans would win. They had to. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-EIGHT LIONSTORM“Thanks, Tigerstar,” Lionstorm grunted as he delivered the killing blow to a pale tortoiseshell. “Bet this wasn’t how you saw it, though. No, not me being a hero.” He rounded on a nearly-invisible cat. “You, either,” he meowed. “You wanted me dead—” The cat bit uselessly at Lionstorm’s throat, and he swatted them to the ground, feeling the impact through his own body. “But I’m alive twice more than you.” This didn’t particularly make sense, but Lionstorm didn’t have time to make sense. He was busy fighting. He would have thought that the lack of real blood would make the Place of No Stars warriors less satisfying to fight. Not so. The oily, brackish taste of the liquid that came from them curdled his breath and fueled his anger. Just because Lionstorm could not be hurt did not mean his Clanmates could not. Tornear struggled against a hulking spirit cat, and though Lionstorm wanted to help, he was too far away. A dark forest cat pulled Lionstorm back by the tail. He turned, clamped a paw over the ginger tabby’s head, shoved their muzzle into the mud, and snapped their spine, the sharp crack ringing above the drumming of the rain in Lionstorm’s ears. “Having fun?” Hawkstar shouted, jumping onto Lionstorm and pushing off again. “You,” he snarled. Hawkstar was his enemy. There was his target. Who knew how many lives he had left? Hawkstar disappeared into the dark, rainy battle. “Fox dung!” Lionstorm swore. “Fox dung, fox dung, where’d you go?” “My old apprentice.” Tigerstar’s mew cut into Lionstorm’s thoughts. “Let’s see if you’ve learned to fight since you left us.” “I have the power of the stars in my paws,” Lionstorm growled. “You have nothing.” “Still on about that prophecy.” Tigerstar bared his teeth, pulling his lips back so far that his gums showed. “It’s time I showed you how a real warrior fights.” “You can’t defeat me. It’s impossible,” said Lionstorm, pulse quickening. This was it—this would be a thrilling battle. “I don’t have to beat you face to face,” Tigerstar snarled. “I just have to beat you senseless. Immune to claws, yes—to brute force, never. You could have been a great warrior, a great leader, if you would only listen to me!” He pounced. Don’t get unconscious, then, Lionstorm thought. That might be easier said than done. He wrestled Tigerstar to the ground, but the old leader was as big as he was, and he tossed Lionstorm off. The Place of No Stars cats were fighting to kill others with their claws and teeth. They could not do this to Lionstorm while he fought. But he couldn’t fight for the rest of his life. Did spirits need to sleep? Lionstorm certainly did. He didn’t know if he would still have his powers in StarClan. Tigerstar’s fangs scraped over Lionstorm’s skull, and he thrust his head upward, jarring his old mentor’s teeth. At least two nearly broke, and he felt a surge of energy. “You can’t do it,” Lionstorm snarled. “You won’t be able to.” “That’s right,” Tigerstar growled. Is he actually enjoying this? I’m the only one who’s allowed to enjoy this. “You’re already dead.” “You’re the dead one, old mangetail.” Lionstorm grabbed one of Tigerstar’s hind legs and yanked it. Tigerstar rammed his head against Lionstorm’s jaw, setting his teeth rattling. The whole side of his face throbbed. That actually hurt.“You aren’t going to win,” he hissed. “You’ll never take our forest.” “That is correct. Hawkstar will do it for me.” Tigerstar pounced eagerly, dragging his claws over Lionstorm’s flank. He probably thought that would distract me from fighting.Greasy black blood spattered Lionstorm’s muzzle. His own red blood had not been spilled at all, but the ground under his paws and the pelts of the Clanmates that blurred around him were stained the color of rust. “All I have to do is keep you fighting,” Tigerstar roared. I can defeat Tigerstar, but how long will that take? And once I do, there will still be Hawkstar.I can do that. I have the power of the stars in my paws. This is my destiny. To save the Clans. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-NINE DAWNSTREAMAfter realizing WindClan had RiverClan’s help, Dawnstream had run to ShadowClan. She dodged a fierce swipe from Pinefur. “Stop it,” Dawnstream cried. “Stop fighting the Clans.” “I fight for Hawkstar,” snarled the tabby warrior. “I fight for my allies, not for you.” “But I’m fighting for your Clan,” Dawnstream begged, darting around the RiverClan cat and nipping at one of her ankles as she turned. She was faster than Pinefur even after the other’s moons of training in the Place of No Stars. “You’re fighting for StarClan,” sneered Pinefur. “Exactly. Don’t you want to go somewhere nice when you die?” A wide paw connected with Dawnstream’s back. “The Valley has all that I will need.” “Won’t you just listen to reason?” “I listen to claw and fang and no less,” Pinefur snarled. Dawnstream sighed, reversed direction, and caught Pinefur’s jaw with the tips of her claws. “Pinefur, you’re going to die a traitor.” Beyond Pinefur she saw Blackstar wrangling Brokenstar. “I’m not a traitor. Hawkstar is my leader. Dawnflower is my deputy.” Her teeth clacked together a whiskerlength from Dawnstream’s throat. “You follow your leader’s orders. I follow mine.” “That’s not what I mean,” Dawnstream pleaded. “The warrior code is our law for a reason. It helps us be good cats.” Brokenstar’s body was fading. “The word of the Clan leader is the warrior code,” Pinefur recited, paws flashing as she tried to hit Dawnstream. “Hawkstar is a killer. If you fight for the Clans, you can be a great warrior.” She knew that was remorse in the pale tabby’s eyes. “No. My loyalty can only lie with Hawkstar. It is too late.” “No, it’s not.” Pinefur paused, face locked into a snarl, poised to strike again. “Dawnstream, this is not yours to decide.” She crashed down to where the calico should have been, but Dawnstream dodged. “Get out,” she whispered. “Get out of here.” The tabby’s green eyes found hers. “I can’t leave. I am fighting.” “Go home.” Pinefur lay on the ground. “I…have no home.” She closed her eyes. Well, at least she’s out of our fur, I guess. Does this count as defeated? “You stay there, or you’ll regret it,” she mewed sharply. She couldn’t bring herself to attack an already floored opponent. Dawnstream was knocked to the ground. “Get up, Pinefur,” snarled the dark brown tabby spirit. “She’s not getting up,” Dawnstream hissed. “Careful. That’s Shredtail,” Tigerheart shouted, but Shredtail was already attacking. He was much faster than Pinefur, and stronger, too. His long claws tore into Dawnstream like furze thorns. She could see herself through his eyes. His pelt was laced with scars; they stung. There was a weak one just behind his foreleg. It throbbed with every step he took, every muscle he moved. Shredtail’s paws—three of them; she couldn’t imagine being this coordinated—flew at her, and Dawnstream scrambled backward to where she knew he could not reach. His muscles strained forward, but he was used to more difficult battles than this. Stretching would not do him in. Dawnstream charged forward, sliding under him as he lunged for her. She didn’t have time to claw at his scar. Mouse dung. He landed gracefully, spun on his heels, and lashed for her again. Why does Shredtail have to be so strong? Why couldn’t Lionstorm be here? She backed away, back arched, snarling. “You can’t defeat me,” Shredtail taunted. “Why don’t you try that again?” “Quit it,” Tigerheart shouted, slapping Shredtail’s flank with his claws. I’m done with you, Tigerheart, Dawnstream thought, but as Shredtail turned he gave her the opening she needed. The scabbed skin behind his leg pulled taut. Dawnstream sprang forward with all the force of a tunneling rabbit hunter, claws and teeth aimed straight for Shredtail’s aching scar. He howled in pain, legs splaying out, and Dawnstream wriggled forward and bit into his throat, clinging to his shoulders with her paws as tightly as she could. He dissolved. Dawnstream glanced at Tigerheart. He looked encouraging. “You’re a really great fighter,” he said hopefully. “I’m a WindClan warrior. Get used to it.” Dawnstream turned her back on him. Shredtail really had been the primary destructive force in ShadowClan’s camp. He had killed a cat—and there was a kit lying on the ground. Please don’t be dead. She had to believe the kit was alive. A queen she recognized as Pinenose broke out of the battle and huddled over the kit. Please be alive, please.Dawnstream couldn’t look. “Ratscar, you traitor,” a mostly-faded spirit roared. “Get back here!” They tackled the skinny brown tom. “He’s no traitor. He’s my brother,” Snowbird hissed, throwing herself at the spirit. “There’s one.” The ShadowClan warrior Owlclaw appeared out of nowhere and bowled Dawnstream to the camp floor. “Help,” Dawnstream squawked. Owlclaw pinned her and began biting her shoulder. “Get off me!” She writhed, but his grip was too strong. The ShadowClan tom made an owl sound. “You aren’t a bird,” Dawnstream snapped. “If you were, I would eat you.” He shifted his position so that he could attack, and Dawnstream rose to her paws. She was still much smaller, but she had the upper paw now. Dawnstream battered his neck with her claws until a deep voice growled, “Step aside, WindClan cat.” “Blackstar,” she mewed, darting aside in confusion. Whose side was he on? “Owlclaw,” he growled. “My warrior. I’ve heard Redwillow did the same as you?” “Redwillow was a loyal warrior to his last breath and beyond,” Owlclaw affirmed, looking as surprised as Dawnstream felt. “Well, then, I’d like you to know he’s gone now. Forever.” “Which one of those mangy starry-eyed mousebrains killed him the second time?” “Me.” Blackstar reared back and brought one of his massive paws down on Owlclaw’s head, smashing him into the ground. He was dead. The ShadowClan leader looked at Dawnstream. “Thank you.” “There’s still more to fight,” she whimpered. Place of No Stars cats still swarmed the camp. She saw them overwhelm Scorchfur. “The tides are beginning to turn.” The old leader’s white pelt was streaked with red, brown, and black blood and his muzzle with silver fur, but he still made an imposing figure. “There is hope yet.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY JAYFEATHERJayfeather could not fight in a battle like this. He could see only the spirits, and only barely. He could not see the terrain or any living cats. So when Kestrelflight first sounded the alarm, there was no point in Jayfeather joining the charge. The medicine cat was out there somewhere, and Jayfeather’s heart ached with the thought that he might die, but he could do nothing to help. Instead, Jayfeather sat by the nursery. Larkpaw and Crouchpaw had been apprenticed to Nightcloud and Brackentail, leaving the Clan with no kits or queens, but the two apprentices had been sent back to the nursery for this fight. It was not long before Sunstrike pelted into the camp. Jayfeather prepared himself to fight as he caught a whiff of the Place of No Stars on her, but she cried, “I’m not fighting; I would never hurt my kits.” “Why should I trust you?” he growled, but a quick scan of Sunstrike’s mind revealed that she had not expected to fight her Clanmates until it was too late to back out. He shut his ears against her babbled apologies and said he believed her. “They’ve got guards in here,” he heard Dawnflower yowl. “Got any kits in there, then?” “You’re the deputy,” Jayfeather snarled. “What do you want with the Place of No Stars?” “I will be the deputy of TigerClan,” she crowed. “RiverClan will be no more, but I will still be in favor of the leader!” A soft thump followed by the noise of battle startled Jayfeather, and he realized Cloudchin was attacking her. They had been a warrior apprentice once. Pounding paws told him there were more warriors approaching. Sunstrike heard them too. “That’s one of the prophecy cats,” he heard someone snarl. He didn’t recognize the voice. “Get the gray tabby.” “Run,” whispered Sunstrike. “I can’t abandon the nursery.” “We know the way out,” she hissed. “Besides, they’re after you, not us.” Jayfeather ran faster than he had ever run before. He scrambled through the camp entrance. What now?There was only one way he could beat these cats. The tunnels. Hopefully they could not see in the dark. The foggiest outlines of three cats had revealed he was dealing with mostly spirits. Dawnflower was after him, too; she snarled obscenities after him. I’m a WindClan cat. I can outrun her.Jayfeather dashed down a tunnel. He was a small cat; he would fit in the tunnels much more easily than the burly Dawnflower. Her huge frame would hinder her down here. StarClan, help me, he thought, pushing on as his muscles screamed for him to stop. If he rested now, he would not be able to start running again in time to escape the claws of his pursuers. “Jay’s Wing,” Fallen Leaves gasped, suddenly bounding just behind him. “You are in peril.” Yes, he wanted to snap, I am in quite a lot of peril, and I do not appreciate distractions right now, thank you.He took a side tunnel, and Fallen Leaves called after him, “Wait, don’t you want to—” I’m not going to stay with you.I hope.The spirits seemed to be losing ground. Sooner or later they would have to stumble, and Jayfeather just had to be far enough that he would not be crushed under the falling stone. “Halt,” commanded a chilling, raspy voice. He put a paw down wrong and felt his body shudder. Jayfeather fell to the ground, skidding over slimy clay and sharp pebbles. “You did this, Jay’s Wing.” “I what?” he spluttered, picking himself up. “Without you,” Rock growled, “this battle never would have taken place. Without you, my cats would still be here.” “Look, Rock, I don’t care,” Jayfeather snapped. “Get out of my way.” “No,” Rock boomed. “I’m going to die if they catch me, and then everyone up there will die, too.” Rock made a strange gurgling rumbling sound, and it took Jayfeather a moment to realize he was purring with laughter. “Jay’s Wing, I can think of no better ending.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE LIONSTORMTigerstar’s body crunched in Lionstorm’s jaws.“Finally,” the golden warrior breathed. The feeling of the cold black blood spurting from the giant tom’s neck made him dizzy, and it was the best feeling he could imagine. Lionstorm turned to attack the next enemy he saw. Silverhawk. Lightheaded euphoria bubbled through Lionstorm’s body as he whirled, crushing Silverhawk to the ground, and slashed at his fur, tearing out chunks of flesh. He smashed his head into Silverhawk’s face and licked at the oily blood. In the moment of battle its taste turned from sour to tangy to sweet and bright on his teeth. Silverhawk was exhausted. Lionstorm grabbed the struggling warrior by his scruff and lifted him fiercely, then beat him against the ground. He felt what should have been life drain from the gray tom’s spirit. “Help,” croaked his father. Lionstorm spun around, ready to destroy whatever cat dared lay a paw on his father. His ecstasy left. “Breezepelt,” Lionstorm coughed. His mouth was full of gross blood, and it sloshed between his teeth and in his belly. “Don’t kill him.” His half-brother had Crowfeather on the ground. Bright red blood seeped nauseatingly from the gray warrior’s throat. “Why not? You never loved me!” He seemed to be addressing Crowfeather instead of Lionstorm. “Of course I loved you,” their father whispered. “Breezepelt, you are my son.” “Don’t give me that. I was never good enough for you.” Lionstorm saw Breezepelt’s claws fully unsheathe, the skin behind them straining with the effort. “Breezepelt, let him go.” “You’re a liar and a coward. If I didn’t have you in my claws right now, you’d be the same as you always were. You are no father of mine. Nightcloud loved me. She told me all about your hate.” “I have loved you from the moment I first set eyes on you,” growled Crowfeather. “Nightcloud fed you lies. She lied to you, Breezepelt. Do you hear me? Those were lies!” “Please let him go.” Lionstorm stumbled toward the two cats. He couldn’t walk in a straight line, and it was all he could do to keep standing. “Breezepelt, it doesn’t matter. Please come back to WindClan.” “I was never good enough for any cat here.” Even as dazed as he was Lionstorm thought he heard a cold, bitter hunger in his half-brother’s voice. “I’m good enough for Tigerstar. For Brokenstar. For all of the cats in the Valley.” “You’re good enough here,” Lionstorm protested weakly. “You’re my brother.” “You’re Leafpool’s son,” Breezepelt hissed. “You are both my sons. Get away from me, and stop threatening your Clan,” Crowfeather snarled. Breezepelt slashed at his father’s fur. “I’m not talking to you!” “Let him go,” Lionstorm pleaded. “If you let him up right now, you can come back to WindClan. Did you know—Breezepelt, you heard that I’m one of the Three. Only—three must become four.” Inspiration struck. “So stop lording it over the lowly cats and leave me alone.” “Don’t you see, Breezepelt? Three must become four to battle the darkness that lasts forever. Don’t you get it? There’s a fourth cat. We need you, Breezepelt. You are the Fourth. StarClan needs you and wants you in their prophecy.” Breezepelt blinked, and some of the hardness went out of his face. “What are you—what does that mean? Moths have made holes in your brain, haven’t they?” “Breezepelt, I love you. I never meant to hurt you,” Crowfeather meowed. Breezepelt stiffened again. “Crowfeather, please don’t talk right now,” said Lionstorm. He padded closer; the world was beginning to right itself, and he could judge the distance between them now. “Breezepelt. I know you’re hurting. But you can’t fight against your Clan like this.” “I already have,” he growled. “It’s too late.” “No, it isn’t.” Lionstorm stretched his muzzle toward Breezepelt. “We can work this all out, okay? You’ll be a warrior, and WindClan will be strong, and every cat will know what a hero you’ve been.” More cats flooded into the battle. Lionstorm hoped dearly that they were reinforcements for StarClan’s side and not for the Place of No Stars. Breezepelt glared back. “Lionstorm, do you not see? Nightcloud is dead.” “And who do you think it was who killed her?” Lionstorm bowed his head. “Rosetalon,” Breezepelt muttered, confused. “It was the cats from the Place of No Stars. They’re not your allies, Breezepelt. WindClan are.” “Nightcloud is dead and gone. I have nothing left to fight for,” hissed Breezepelt. “Fight for your Clanmates.” Breezepelt stared. “Have you not listened to a word I have said to you?” “I have listened.” Lionstorm reached his muzzle out again. “There’s still hope, Breezepelt. Crowfeather has already paid for what he did.” “Not enough,” spat Breezepelt. “Crowfeather has paid,” Lionstorm repeated. “Breezepelt, please rejoin WindClan. We love you. Avenge Nightcloud’s death and fight by our sides.” Breezepelt held his gaze evenly for what felt like moons. “All right,” he muttered at last, releasing Crowfeather. “I will fight for Nightcloud, and for WindClan.” “Thank you,” Crowfeather breathed. “There’s a lot more left to do,” Lionstorm warned them. “Hawkstar is still out there, along with who knows how many Place of No Stars spirits.” “Well, they’ve got one less set of paws,” Breezepelt growled. “We can take them.” “Together,” Lionstorm agreed. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO HOLLYHEART“We’re almost there,” Hollyheart rasped. She could feel the changing terrain beneath her paws. It had finally begun to resemble the hills of WindClan. A light rain blew across the moor. Soon the yowls of battle were audible over the horizon. Thornstar bristled and picked up his pace, and the whole of ThunderClan sped up, charging across the hills toward home. The scene that unfolded before them was the worst Hollyheart had ever seen. “Reminds me of the days of BloodClan,” Cloudtail growled. Brightheart sighed. “We always knew we’d have to fight to return.” Hollyheart and ThunderClan entered the fray. They fought near the shore, not far past the WindClan camp but enough that the gray rain-rippled lake was in full view. A half-faded cat leapt for her, screaming some sort of battle cry, and Hollyheart slipped under them. As her opponent crashed to the ground she turned and caught them with her claws. Oily black blood oozed out. “Where did you come from?” the pale tabby hissed. “This is our forest just as much as yours,” Hollyheart snarled. “Not for much longer.” Hollyheart was out of practice. The pale tabby spirit boxed her head back and forth and then swiped with hooked claws. Cinderheart came to her rescue, hauling the Place of No Stars cat aside and slamming them to the ground. Hollyheart saw her wince. “Don’t hurt your leg,” she cried as she darted forward to slash at the spirit. “It’s all fine,” Cinderheart assured her through gritted teeth. “Just keep fighting.” “Hollyheart?” someone gasped. “Harespring!” His green gaze melted with wonder and relief. “Hollyheart, so much has happened—I’ll tell you after the battle, okay?” She nodded, but he was already turning to fight another spirit. A gray-and-white cat came to Harespring’s aid. Is that Hazelpaw? Cinderheart took down a skinny gray cat who threatened them. Darting through the battle, Hollyheart tried to find a cat she could take down. There was Lionstorm—why wasn’t he fighting? “Get your head out of the clouds,” she hissed. Another cat’s paw collided with her head, sharp claws digging into her face. “So you’re back here, are you.” “Weaselfur,” she cried. “What are you doing?” “Looks like I’ll be fighting both of my apprentices tonight, won’t I,” he snarled. “You were always a disappointment. You could never fight.” Hollyheart hissed and pounced at him. He had taught her to fight; she should know all his moves. But no, he had learned more from the Place of No Stars. Weaselfur grabbed her and threw her to the ground. “You’ll never learn, will you?” “I know enough to know you’ll never win,” she spat. “WindClan has the Three.” “You’re forgetting one,” he gloated. “The Three aren’t enough. This battle started long before your side ever expected it.” Hollyheart darted forward, catching his neck with her teeth, and grabbed him around the shoulders, shoving him over. He tried to spring free, but she was larger, and she tore deep into his throat. I never liked you anyway.Panting, Hollyheart whipped her head around. Lionstorm was still not fighting; he was talking to a murderous-looking Breezepelt, and Crowfeather was stiffly rising to his paws. Hollyheart prepared to attack her half-brother, but miraculously he dipped his head and hared away, leaving Crowfeather and Lionstorm alone. Hawkstar barreled through the crowd. Hollyheart braced herself to fight him, but he charged past her toward Lionstorm. Before she could react he was in the air, pouncing. “Lionstorm, watch out,” she shrieked. By the time she managed to say it Hawkstar was already dragging him to the ground. He turned, snarling. Hawkstar was the one living cat at the lake who matched Lionstorm in size and fighting skill. Hollyheart sprinted toward them. She dug her claws into Hawkstar’s flank, and he released Lionstorm, spinning to face her. “What now?” Hollyheart heard the gasp from Lionstorm. “Call the battle off, Hawkstar,” she snarled. “You can’t destroy the warrior code.” “I have this battle won from the start,” he hissed, giant paws lashing at her as Lionstorm scrambled to his paws behind him. “No cat will get in my way.” Lionstorm yanked Hawkstar backward, and Hollyheart pounced again. “You lived like a rogue,” she whispered. “You can die like a rogue.” Then a dark brown paw caught Hollyheart in the face. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-THREE LIONSTORMLionstorm reached for Hawkstar’s foreleg, but he was too late. Hollyheart fell to the ground. Did he just kill her? “That’s against the code,” he snarled. It was all he could come up with. Hawkstar just laughed. Lionstorm hauled back and smacked him across the muzzle. “It’s not funny!” he roared. The cats around him faded out, becoming just the blur of battle he was used to. “I’m going to kill you, Hawkstar.” The dark brown tabby hissed. “Not likely.” “I’ll kill you nine times if I have to,” Lionstorm snarled. “I’ll kill you ten.” He wasn’t sure if Hawkstar had lost any of his lives already. He probably had, but Lionstorm was no medicine cat; he couldn’t tell. The RiverClan leader smacked him to the ground. “You could have been a great warrior. Third in line for TigerClan if you’d sided with us from the start.” “I’m not here to lead a Clan,” growled Lionstorm. “I’m defending the warrior code and StarClan.” “You sound just like Firestar,” Hawkstar growled. “You know what happened to Firestar, don’t you?” Lionstorm kicked Hawkstar in the chest. Thick red blood coated the white splash over his heart. “I killed him,” Hawkstar gloated. “Just like I’m going to kill you!” “You’ll never do it,” Lionstorm puffed. Hawkstar wrestled him to the ground, and Lionstorm tore at his paws with a fury. Never had another living cat matched his power, not since he had discovered it. Hawkstar roared with rage. “Why aren’t you bleeding yet?” He struck at Lionstorm with one of his huge paws. “You should be dead!” “I have all the power of StarClan,” Lionstorm hissed. Hawkstar’s blows hurt, but he could not break the skin. “I have—the power of the stars—in my paws.” He thrust himself upward, grabbing Hawkstar’s throat in his jaws. The RiverClan leader gurgled and fell forward. Lionstorm pushed his limp body off and put his paws down on his neck. Soon the pulse returned beneath his pawpads, and he pressed down with all his might. “Coward,” wheezed Hawkstar. “It’s not cowardice to fight this way. This is how Tigerstar taught me, and it’s only fitting for you.” Hawkstar’s eyes bulged, but he fell dead again. “Get away from him,” howled Otterheart, slamming Lionstorm over the head with a paw. “What do you want?” he snarled, startled. She blanched but righted herself immediately. “Hawkstar is my leader. My loyalty lies with my Clan. This battle—may not be—but you must not kill him.” Hawkstar was waking again. “Hawkstar is against StarClan and the code, Otterheart. You can’t honestly think this is right!” He dodged a strike from Hawkstar. Otterheart caught him by a paw and pulled him back. “I don’t care if it’s right,” she hissed. “You can’t claim to fight for the Clans. Not if you fight against one. Fight the spirits. Do not fight RiverClan.” “Otterheart, you mousebrain,” Lionstorm snarled. “Let go of me. This isn’t about Clan loyalties; it’s about StarClan and the Place of No Stars.” “StarClan gave me my nine lives,” Hawkstar hissed, pounding Lionstorm’s back with his claws, though each hit bounced off. “They did not have any contradictions.” “Otterheart, please. It’s for the survival of all the Clans,” Lionstorm hissed. He didn’t escape Hawkstar’s onslaught. He scrabbled away, panting. He was exhausted. “Otterheart.” Her green eyes hardened. “You’re right.” Hawkstar spun to face her, ice blue eyes glittering. “What did you say?” “My loyalty to the code does not mean loyalty to you. You’ve broken all we stand for,” she hissed. “Look what you’ve made me. I hate you.” Hawkstar lurched toward Otterheart. Lionstorm pounced on the distracted leader. Hawkstar rolled onto his back, but Lionstorm was big enough that he didn’t get squashed. Instead he tore out Hawkstar’s throat, spitting strands of brown and white fur from his mouth. “Thank you, Otterheart.” “No problem,” she whispered. With another glance at her felled Clan leader, she added, “I cannot betray him further. If we lose, my life is on your head.” Then she darted away. Fox dung. It might have been his destiny to kill Hawkstar, but he could have used the help. Hawkstar woke again and flung Lionstorm to the ground. “Clever. But you have only one life to lose. I will win eventually.” He sprang at Lionstorm, and Lionstorm reared onto his hind paws. Hawkstar crashed into him, knocking him down—they were close to the lake now—there were claws, so many claws, humongous paws, tearing for his flesh and failing. You never had a hope of winning this battle.He killed Hawkstar again, kicking him into the bloody shallows of the lake. “Are you finally gone for good?” Lionstorm croaked. The RiverClan leader twitched. A cloud of blood spurted from his nose, and he staggered to his paws. “I will never give up. I will never stop fighting,” he whispered. “Is this your last life, then.” “I have all the lives I need to defeat you.” “You're a Clan leader. Can't you just be satisfied already?” Lionstorm growled. “Quit fighting!” “No,” growled Hawkstar. “Not until every last StarClan cat is beaten.” “Then it must be this way.” “You can't save them all, you know.” A defiant cold fire glowed in Hawkstar's eyes. “There will always be someone to face up to you. You can fight for the rest of your life, but you cannot lift a paw to save your Clanmates.” But Lionstorm was not afraid. He steadied himself, glaring back at his enemy's icy eyes. “I have the power of the stars in my paws, Hawkstar. What do you have?” This time it was Lionstorm who pounced. Hawkstar crumpled beneath him. As the leader died, a flailing paw caught Lionstorm across the flank, tearing his flesh down to the knee of his hind leg. The battle, Lionstorm thought. His mind was fuzzy. It’s still happening?There were stars all around him. Had he died without noticing them? No. There were cats. Countless spirits, their fur shimmering and lighting up the night around him. “Lionstorm,” Hollyheart cried. “You’ve won.” He was dizzier than he had ever been before. “Blood,” he said, gagging on the stench. It was in his mouth, in his nose, pouring from his leg. “Much blood has been spilled,” said a ginger spirit cat. “The lake runs red.” Lionstorm stared, blinking groggily. “Firestar?” The ginger tom dipped his head. “The battle is over, Lionstorm, and the stars won. The Place of No Stars has been defeated.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FOUR JAYFEATHER“Move it, Rock. I need to leave,” Jayfeather growled. “Tell me, Jay’s Wing, is it raining?” Rock asked innocently, bulbous pale eyes widening. Jayfeather froze. I have to get out of here.He turned to run the other direction, but Rock shimmered and appeared there instead. “Stop running, Jay’s Wing.” His ancient, foul breath made Jayfeather cough. “I didn’t make this battle happen, and I don’t know why you’re dead, so leave me alone.” Jayfeather tried to push past Rock. The hairless tom shoved him, and he staggered back. “It was you, Jay’s Wing. It was you who took my followers from me. It was you who dragged them off to the mountains, never to return. It was you who formed the foundation for the Place of No Stars.” “What are you talking about? Let me go.” Jayfeather spun around and dashed the other direction, but Rock moved in front of him again. “Why do you think I killed Jay’s Wing?” Rock roared. “You took all I had. Left me alone with naught but a kit for company.” “The Ancients had to leave. It’s all over and done with; why can’t you move on?” Jayfeather hissed. “They never came back to me,” said Rock, his voice dropping to a rough, hoarse whisper. “The Clans—I saw them long, long ago. Saw them moving into my lands. My cats cannot return until you are destroyed.” “But they did return,” Jayfeather snapped. “Your Ancients turned into the Tribe of Rushing Water. The Tribe of Rushing Water turned into the Clans.” Rock stared, creases deepening in his wrinkled forehead. “What?” “The Clans are the descendants of the cats I led away. Let—me— go!” Taking advantage of the wizened tom’s doubt, Jayfeather grabbed him by the shoulder and propelled himself past. Which way was I turned? His own scent was not fresh here. Fox dung, I’ve gone deeper.“There he is,” Dawnflower snarled. She was getting closer now. Jayfeather silently cursed Rock. Maybe you didn’t succeed in killing me directly, but you sure slowed me down.He was close to the river now. It thundered with a ferocity he had never heard before. Jayfeather tried to figure out another route to the surface. Then he saw Fallen Leaves. The spirit tom got to his paws as he noticed Jayfeather approaching. He looked almost excited. “Jay’s Wing, I found it for you.” He nosed the bent stick toward Jayfeather. “It was caught halfway between here and the lake, in the river, but I got it back.” “Fallen Leaves, I don’t have time for this,” Jayfeather snapped. Shock and confusion registered on Fallen Leaves’ face. “But Jay’s Wing, you can use it.” “What do you mean?” Jayfeather snarled. “The stick.” Realization finally dawned on Jayfeather. “Give me that.” He snatched up the stick, holding it in his jaws, and felt for the new clawmarks etched at the end. Only two. “Spirits can’t leave unless they’re taken to an afterlife of some kind,” Fallen Leaves murmured. “Come with me when I leave.” He dragged a single claw through the higher of the two marks, the one closer to the older lines. “I want to see if you can get to StarClan.” Fallen Leaves pricked up his ears. “They are close by.” “I’m waiting right now.” The tunnels did not branch enough for him to escape through another route; Dawnflower blocked one exit, the river the other. The vibrations of her paws and the paws of the three spirits with her drew nearer. “Okay, now I’m going.” Jayfeather held the stick in his jaws as he made a run for it. Fallen Leaves and Rock can survive underwater, he remembered, but it was too late to make any changes to the plan. This is the last hope.He flung himself into the roaring water. It swept him off his paws faster than he had expected, jarring him against stone teeth and the floor and walls. No loopholes, Rock, please.He needed to breathe soon. With every impact he could feel himself losing a bit of air. The stick broke from his jaws and tumbled around him. And then Fallen Leaves was nudging him forward. “I’ve got you,” the ginger-and-white tom yowled above the water that rushed in Jayfeather’s ears. His legs pumped, and he maneuvered Jayfeather safely away from smashing into the walls and ceiling of the narrow passageway to the lake. Suddenly he slowed. Fallen Leaves crashed into him, and the momentum set both of them flailing until their heads broke the surface of the water. They began paddling back to shore. The rain had let up, though the water swirled with debris and blood. “Stars,” Fallen Leaves breathed, as if they were the most miraculous things he had ever seen. He realized the poor cat had probably not seen stars since his death—how long had Fallen Leaves lived in total darkness? Then Jayfeather saw them, too. There were stars everywhere, and as Jayfeather strained, he saw the outlines of cats, more cats than there had been before. “StarClan is here,” he breathed. Pawsteps sounded, and cats crowded the shoreline. “Fallen Leaves,” someone shrieked. “It’s you!” “Mother!” Fallen Leaves scrambled out of the water to join Broken Shadow. He faded rapidly, and before long Jayfeather could not see him any more than he could see the other spirits around the lake. “So we won the battle,” he meowed. “StarClan is here, Jayfeather,” said Kestrelflight. “I know.” He padded toward the medicine cat’s voice. “You need herbs,” Kestrelflight mewed. “Come back to camp.” “I can’t be the only one.” “I’ve been running around all night. It’ll be sunup soon, you know. I’ve gotta treat you, too.” “Jay’s Wing!” Jayfeather and Kestrelflight both paused and waited for Half Moon to catch up. “Oh, Jay’s Wing, you did it. We’re all here together now.” “Kestrelflight, this is Half Moon, from, uh, the past. Half Moon, did you see I found Fallen Leaves?” “The past? Who’s Fallen Leaves?” asked Kestrelflight. Jayfeather gave him a brief version of the story, and Half Moon was delighted. “You’re everyone’s hero now.” “You really did an amazing job,” Kestrelflight meowed. Half Moon licked Jayfeather on the cheek. “I don’t know much about healing,” she admitted as Kestrelflight took him the rest of the way to the den. “So are you two mates, then?” Kestrelflight mewed as he picked through the herbs. Strangely enough Jayfeather couldn’t seem to read what he was thinking or feeling. “Well, I guess we will be, once I die.” “Oh.” The medicine cat sounded almost crestfallen. “Well, that should be fun.” “What’s wrong?” Jayfeather’s heart was beating again as it had while he ran from Dawnflower. “Jayfeather, I’m a medicine cat. It was never my place to ask.” He picked up a bundle of leaves, brought it to Jayfeather, and started applying the leaves to his scratches and bruises. “I was just thinking—well, maybe when we died—but I get it, don’t worry; you and Half Moon are great,” he added hastily. “I just didn’t know about her or I’d never have—” “You know it works differently in StarClan,” said Jayfeather. Kestrelflight drew a loud breath. “It does?” “Yeah. When a cat’s mate dies or they stop being mates or something and they get a new mate—they can all be together in StarClan.” “Oh,” Kestrelflight breathed. Jayfeather didn’t have to read Kestrelflight’s mind to feel the joy washing from him. “Well—she did seem nice. I bet we’d be friends if I knew her better.” “Yeah, you’d like her.” When his wounds were dressed, Jayfeather went back to find Half Moon among the spirits. Many of them were returning to their own worlds, but she was still there waiting for him. “I can’t stay in the living world forever,” she sighed. “I’ll see you in the Tribe of Endless Hunting,” he promised. “Thank you for being here tonight.” “Well, you started StarClan, really,” she pointed out. “StarClan and the Tribe of Endless Hunting both owe it to Jay’s Wing.” And the Place of No Stars, too. “I’ll see you when you dream in the mountains, then.” He walked with her to the Moonpool. The imprints of ancient paws tingled under his feet. “Goodbye, Half Moon.” “Goodbye, Jay’s Wing.” Jayfeather returned to camp alone. There would be losses sustained by the Clans, but they had won. There would be no more fighting here. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FIVE DAWNSTREAM“Icepetal, you’re alive!” Dawnstream’s throat ached, and her voice cracked, but that wasn’t important. “I can hold my own in a fight,” her sister rasped, blackish blood dripping from her teeth. “A fight against the whole force of the Place of No Stars,” Dawnstream pointed out. She would have gone down to the lake for a drink, but in the faint light of the sun just barely peeking over the horizon the mess of blood was illuminated. She would not be drinking that water. “It’s all red,” Icepetal whispered, echoing her thoughts. “Look at that. How much blood do you reckon we all spilled?” “Too much.” Icepetal closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I was with them.” “They tricked you. It isn’t fair on yourself to be upset now.” Dawnstream nudged her sister’s cheek. “You fought on our side in the end, and without you we’d never have been prepared enough to fight.” Icepetal shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe if I hadn’t been the one fighting, Antpelt wouldn’t have died even once.” “You can’t get hung up on the past. I know Antpelt’s death was terrible, but you did the right thing.” “He only died because he wouldn’t kill me.” “But you said he went to the Place of No Stars anyway,” Dawnstream reminded her. “His loyalty lay with them.” She stiffened. “Icepetal, I think you were the Fourth.” “The fourth…in the prophecy?” Dawnstream nodded. It all made sense. “Icepetal, without you we’d never have been ready to face the darkness that lasts forever, or whatever they called it.” “I’m in the prophecy.” Icepetal gave one sharp, bitter laugh. “Dawnstream—I was so jealous of you. Didn’t you ever notice?” “Eventually.” She shuffled her paws. “Not until it was too late.” “I was jealous of you this whole time, and I was in the prophecy all along. But,” she meowed, looking confused, “what was my power?” “It only said three needed to become four. Nothing about powers.” “Dawnstream, Icepetal, there you are.” Tigerheart bounded up to them and pressed his muzzle against Dawnstream’s shoulder. “I was so worried.” “Tigerheart, don’t touch me,” she said primly. “You’re a funny cat, but you’re a ShadowClan warrior, and I’m a WindClan warrior.” “I told him about the catmint,” Icepetal blurted. Dawnstream blinked. “The what?” “When ShadowClan stole it. That was me.” “Oh.” Embarrassment ruffled her pelt. “Well, if it had gone another moon, I probably would have told him.” “So does that mean you’re interested again or not?” said Tigerheart, confused. “No.” “Honestly, Tigerheart, can’t you take a hint?” meowed Icepetal. Tigerheart narrowed his eyes to snap something at Icepetal, but Dawnstream cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. We can be friends at Gatherings, but that’s all we’ll ever be, okay?” He sighed. “Okay.” Tigerheart sat down with a thump. “Think there’ll still be Gatherings after all that nonsense with the shadowed forest?” “Shadowed forest,” Dawnstream repeated, amused. “It’s called the Place of No Stars.” “They told us it was the Valley of No Stars,” he mewed. “So how’s your whole Three thing going?” Of course Blackstar had shared it with the whole Clan. She shrugged, trying to pretend she wasn’t a little put off by this news. “I mean, we won.” “That’s true.” The three cats lapsed into silence. What was there to say? They’d won the battle, but countless Clanmates could be dead. Others nearby spoke, but the words dulled into nothing as they reached their ears. It was Tigerheart who broke their quiet first, getting to his paws to leave. “I hope the prey runs well in WindClan.” “Same in ShadowClan,” mewed Dawnstream. They dipped their heads to each other, and he was off. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SIX JAYFEATHER“Hollyheart is dead,” Lionstorm greeted him, voice barely more than a croak. “Hollyheart died moons ago, didn’t she?” Jayfeather meowed. “Well, she was here not too long ago. She came back as a StarClan cat, though I guess you weren’t here for that part, either.” Lionstorm swallowed. “She saved me.” “I thought you couldn’t be beaten in a fight,” said Jayfeather. “I was distracted. Talking to Breezepelt.” “I heard you said he was the Fourth,” Willowshine mewed. Jayfeather recoiled. “Breezepelt, the Fourth? There’s no way.” “Shh,” hissed Lionstorm. “It doesn’t matter whether he really was or not. He fought on our side.” “But do you really think he was the Fourth?” asked Willowshine. “No, I don’t believe he was,” admitted Lionstorm; “didn’t you see the fire in Hollyheart’s heart?” “I’m not sure if that really makes any sense,” Willowshine murmured. “Me neither.” “It makes enough sense,” Jayfeather assured his brother. “I was thinking it might be—no, that’s silly,” Willowshine mewed. “I want to think that it’s Hollyheart, I really do.” “I thought it was Fallen Leaves,” said Jayfeather. “But maybe not. Actually, you know what makes even more sense?” “Who’s Fallen Leaves?” meowed Lionstorm. “ThunderClan.” He heard Willowshine make a noise of slight distress. “What?” “ThunderClan. The fourth Clan. The prophecy never said a fourth cat.” “That doesn’t actually answer my question about Fallen Leaves.” “I almost said ThunderClan,” Willowshine muttered. “I should have said it, but I thought you would think I was being a mousebrain.” “I still think it’s Fallen Leaves,” Jayfeather mewed. “I just thought I should mention ThunderClan, too.” “Okay, but who is that?” Lionstorm sounded irritated. “Fallen Leaves was a spirit who got trapped in the tunnels. He couldn’t leave until just tonight. He saved my life.” “I would ask how you know him, but after the prophecy and this big battle I don’t think there’s any point.” Willowshine sighed. “I just don’t know what the Clans are going to do now.” “The battle is over,” Lionstorm pointed out. “There can be peace now.” “Lionstorm! Jayfeather!” Dawnstream padded over to join them. “Hi, Willowshine.” “Less enthusiastic, but you gave me a hello. I think it evens out,” purred the RiverClan cat. “The Three all made it, then,” said Dawnstream. “Icepetal, too.” Jayfeather nodded and tried to reach Ashstar’s mind. Nothing. “I don’t know if Ashstar made it,” he mewed, worried. He met the same resistance when he tried Harespring. Then again, I couldn’t read Kestrelflight, either. Are they gone, or can I not read their minds anymore?“She had plenty of lives,” Dawnstream reminded him. Lionstorm grunted. “So did Hawkstar.” “It’s just that RiverClan doesn’t have a leader or a deputy,” sighed Willowshine. “The last time that happened, ThunderClan was chased away forever.” “Don’t worry. We’ve all learned our lessons.” Lionstorm let out a low mrrh. “The other Clans will help.” “Well, thanks,” said Willowshine. “RiverClan is going to need as much as it can get.” “Shouldn’t you be covering it all up, trying to hide all weaknesses?” Jayfeather mewed, flicking his tail. “I don’t see any point in that now. I’ve got to go see if total chaos has broken out again for RiverClan.” “I’m not sure you can go all the way to RiverClan,” said Lionstorm. “It looks like they’re all meeting right over there.” “As good a place as any to find RiverClan,” Willowshine mewed. “That’s where I’ll head, then. Coming?” “Why not?” said Lionstorm. “I’m going to listen in, too.” Jayfeather followed Willowshine to the meeting place, which was apparently somewhere near the Moonpool stream. “Jayfeather, there you are,” panted Harespring. “I can’t find Hollyheart anywhere.” “She’s dead,” he said bluntly. The WindClan deputy stopped abruptly in the grass. Jayfeather didn’t have the energy to listen to his heartbreak. It was time to meet ThunderClan. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SEVEN SQUIRRELFLIGHT“We would like our forest back,” Cloudtail growled. Ashfoot dipped her head. “Absolutely. And this may not change what was done before, but for what little it may be worth, I want you to know that we are all deeply sorry for our past actions. They were wrong, and we have paid and will continue to pay for them. What we did—what all of WindClan, then, did—is inexcusable. I have to think that we will never be forgiven.” “Where’s Onestar, then?” asked Cloudtail, frowning. “Dead. I am WindClan’s leader now. Ashstar.” She dipped her head again. “Should I take it you are ThunderClan’s leader now?” “No, Thornstar was alive when we came here,” said Cinderheart. “He’s dead,” growled Cloudtail. “That makes Brightheart our leader.” The golden-spotted she-cat was battered and bloodied from the fight, and it was a wonder she was still standing. Rainstep had done his best to heal her, but he had been taking from WindClan’s supplies; their medicine cat had allowed it, but he had been leery of using too many. “I think under the circumstances you should probably receive your nine lives at once,” meowed Ashstar. “With all due respect, I don’t think I can lead a Clan now,” Brightheart rasped. “These old bones have served their duty. Cinderheart—you’re a bright young cat, and you trained Littlestep well. I think it’s time I step down and let you walk the path you’re meant to walk as our leader.” “Me,” Cinderheart gasped. “I’ve only got three legs.” “And I one eye,” Brightheart rumbled. “You have a whole life still ahead of you. I’ve seen three homes, and I’d like a rest. If you’d rather not, I’ll choose someone else, but you remain my first choice.” “Then I’ll do it,” said Cinderheart. “But first I’ve got to name my deputy, and I think I’ll make it Dawnblaze.” Brightheart nodded, closing her eye. “Wise decision.” “Now we have a slightly more worrisome matter,” Ashstar called. “Hawkstar and Dawnflower both turned against the Clans, leaving RiverClan without a leader or deputy. We will not let the past be repeated. What are we now to do?” “We could wait for StarClan, I guess,” said the RiverClan medicine apprentice. She looked at Mothwing, who stared into the distance in thought. “Tonight has been a very strange night for me,” the golden she-cat admitted. “Cats I thought were the stuff of tales appeared before my eyes. I saw my brother die—he had it a long time coming. Our lost Clan returned. “I think in the end, Willowshine, we need to learn to do things for ourselves, though. This is one thing we can’t wait for StarClan to do for us. I think Reedwhisker would be a good choice. Do you agree?” “Yes,” breathed Willowshine, eyes wide. “Can we really just pick him like this?” “Any cat who tries to stop Reedwhisker will be a traitor,” she pointed out. “I’d say we can. Fetch him and take him to get his nine lives, would you?” Willowshine cast a look at the ThunderClan cats, nodded reluctantly, and hared away. “ThunderClan,” mewed a gray-and-white cat bounding toward them in awe. “Mousepaw and Hazelpaw, your old kits,” said Harespring. “They'll make great warriors.” “You fought in the battle,” Squirrelflight said, astonished. “You were barely apprentices when you left.” “Harespring’s been teaching us how to fight,” explained Hazelpaw. The WindClan deputy glanced at his leader; Ashstar’s expression was hard to read. “They’re great learners. I told them I’d help so they’d fit right back in when you came back.” “It seems you’ve been an excellent mentor. I may ask you to take over Larkpaw’s training,” observed Ashstar. “I’m sure Cinderstar will give you your warrior names when she gets back,” said Cloudtail. “It’ll be some time, but it’s good to have you back.” “And Daisy?” mewed Brightheart. “We’ll talk to her,” promised Mousepaw. “One more thing that’s very important,” said Squirrelflight. “Leafpool is alive.” “Yes, she was helping to heal cats not long ago,” said Ashstar. “I don’t know quite where she’s gotten to right now.” “She’s coming back to ThunderClan, and you’re giving us a share in your freshkill for what you did to us and to our Clan,” growled Squirrelflight. “Please don’t start another fight,” said Fireclaw, eyeing the WindClan leader nervously. Ashstar definitely didn’t look happy, but she gritted her teeth and nodded. “WindClan…does owe you. We will decide on the terms when the immediate aftermath of this battle has passed.” “I suppose that’s enough for now.” Squirrelflight turned to stare across the moor. The early sun only illuminated the dark stain the blood had become. “There’s a lot to do, isn’t there.” “Too much,” agreed Brightheart. “Well,” she said, rising to her paws, “I’m going to go find Leafpool.” They were finally together again. CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-EIGHT LIONSTORM“We also have to decide what to do with the cats who trained in the Place of No Stars,” asserted Ashstar. “Most of them returned to our side, and the ones who did not have been dealt with, but they did all betray us.” “I don’t know. Haven’t they earned their places back?” said Harespring nervously. “I visited there only once; Hollyheart had already warned me that it was a very bad place; but they said some very confusing things to me.” “But as you said,” growled Blackstar, “you visited only once, and you saw through the lies.” “They’re as good as rogues,” Crowfrost hissed. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” said Harespring, flattening his ears. “I agree,” meowed Blackstar, dipping his head. “Greater cats than they have fought for causes they would later regret. It pains me to see the same mistakes repeated.” “I can’t believe you’re just letting them come back,” spat the ShadowClan deputy. “Crowfrost, I am the leader of ShadowClan. It is not your place to make the decision. Do not misunderstand me; something of substance must be done. But…” He sighed, and Lionstorm remembered the white tom’s age. “Perhaps we can come up with something other than exile or death.” “They could take a new oath,” suggested Mothwing. “An oath before their Clan to swear the loyalties they left behind.” “Does ThunderClan have an opinion?” Lionstorm asked. Ashstar narrowed her eyes at him; presumably he was not supposed to ask rival Clans for advice. “From the standpoint of a warrior you drove from this place, I should probably tell you to fight those last few cats,” rasped Brightheart. “But you would not do that. It would serve no purpose but to make myself appear crass. ThunderClan has a history of helping other Clans, not harming them for no purpose.” “That doesn’t even mean anything,” complained Crowfrost. Brightheart looked as old as Blackstar, and her pelt was just as torn. “ThunderClan’s ranks escaped the influence of the Place of No Stars right up until this battle. If there is a traitor among us, they have not shown their face. Thus I think that I, an elder, have little choice in this matter. Once Cinderstar returns, you may ask her.” “And Reedstar,” said Mothwing. “Of course.” Brightheart dipped her head. “I did not mean to exclude RiverClan.” “Well, who were the traitors, first?” called a pale ginger tabby. Ashstar twisted her head to think. “The cats who fought for the side of the Place of No Stars are Weaselfur and Breezepelt of WindClan, Icewing and Pinefur of RiverClan, and Redwillow and Owlclaw of ShadowClan.” “No, Breezepelt fought on our side,” said Lionstorm, blood turning to ice. At least they didn't seem to know about Otterheart. She fought the spirits anyway, didn’t she?“I saw him attack Crowfeather.” “He did at first, but he stopped. He let him go without a fight.” His leader narrowed her eyes again. “Are you certain?” “Breezepelt got caught up in a lie. It’s okay, I promise I’ll keep an eye on him, if that’ll make you feel better. He was on our side in the end, just like the rest of us.” Ashstar pondered this for a moment, then dipped her head, blue eyes glittering. “Very well. I will not act hastily.” “And Pinefur didn’t even fight,” said Snowbird. “She came in with the rest of them, fell over, and wouldn’t move until the StarClan cats got her up.” “Well, I suppose she’s not the only cat who’d follow a leader to her death,” said Mothwing. “My brother was—quite persuasive.” “That still leaves us with four traitors,” said Harespring. “I saw Weaselfur’s body.” “I killed Owlclaw and the spirit of Redwillow,” growled Blackstar. “Icewing was dead by the time I got to the battle,” said Mothwing. “So they’ve all been taken care of. Who’s in favor of the oath?” “What will an oath do?” Jayfeather sniffed. “They already promised, didn’t they? Back when they became warriors.” Blackstar sighed. “Is there nothing more severe short of banishment?” “Why don’t we just temporarily exile them?” suggested Crowfrost. “It’ll get them out of our fur, and then we can decide what to do with them. Each leader on their own terms.” “No,” said Lionstorm. “I trained there once, too. It’s not a matter of them being any worse cats. The spirits there said they’d make me a better warrior. I only left when I saw Hawkstar there. If he hadn’t been in that place, I’d probably have stayed there all the way until tonight.” “You trained in the Place of No Stars?” meowed Ashstar. “With Tigerstar himself,” Lionstorm confessed, looking at his paws. “I thought he wanted to redeem his past. He told me a bunch of lies. I think a little bit of scrutiny will be enough, unless the cats try to betray us again.” “What about the Three?” Blackstar asked, glaring at Lionstorm. “WindClan has three cats with magic powers, and no other Clan has any.” “They’re gone,” said Jayfeather. “The powers are gone.” “They can’t be,” whimpered Lionstorm. I need my power.Jayfeather shrugged. “They are.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-NINE BRAMBLESTAR“Hawkstar.”His half-brother looked up, icy blue eyes piercing at Bramblestar. “What do you want?” “I’m here to welcome you to death,” said Bramblestar. “You’re dead, just like the rest of them.” “Tigerstar,” Hawkstar said, scrambling to his paws. “Where is Tigerstar?” “Tigerstar isn’t here.” “Well, where is he, then?” “He’s gone forever, Hawkstar. Lionstorm killed his spirit, just like he killed you.” “That’s not possible,” Hawkstar muttered. “You’re lying.” “Feel free to search for him,” said Bramblestar, sweeping his tail out across the gloomy forest, swirling the mist. “You’ll be looking for a long time. Long enough to fade away. Maybe you’ll find him there in whatever lies beyond.” Hawkstar let out a low, whining growl. “You caused all of this.” “What, the Clans winning?” Bramblestar sighed heavily, feeling his whole body droop. “I wish it were that simple.” “You can’t tell me you still side with them. Not after all these moons of wandering.” “Wandering has given me time to think,” said Bramblestar. “About all the things I did wrong. And first was trusting you.” “I would have given you greatness.” “No.” Bramblestar sat down. “I don’t think you would.” “You and I would have ruled TigerClan side by side.” “That’s not greatness. That’s tyranny.” “They’re the same thing, in the end,” hissed Hawkstar. “Instead we are here.” “Yes. Both of us are here. I wonder, Hawkstar, if your intentions were so pure, then why is it here you wound up? Shouldn’t a cat as glorious as you live in the sky amongst the stars?” “I reject StarClan,” spat Hawkstar. “They gave me nothing. Their code and their honor are nothing.” “Leopardstar granted you a place in her Clan. The warrior code helped you become strong. StarClan bestowed you with nine lives.” Bramblestar bowed his head. “Thinking I knew more than StarClan was the greatest mistake I ever made.” “You fool,” Hawkstar hissed. “You’re not here for your actions. You’re here because you are weak.” “I am not weak. Not anymore,” said Bramblestar, raising his head to fix his brother with a glare. “I am stronger than you will ever be.” “You, sitting here, longing for the stars,” Hawkstar snorted. “Me, sitting here, telling you that both of us were wrong.” He rose to his paws and advanced. “Your refusal to admit your mistakes is the thing that’s really held you back all these moons.” “I made no mistakes in life save for trusting you.” “That’s where you’re wrong,” Bramblestar said grimly. “If you had just realized your wrongs and tried to fix them, maybe you’d have become leader in your own right. But you had to kill. You had to lie.” “I held my position far longer than you. Or Tigerstar, for that matter,” Hawkstar snarled. “That is true.” Bramblestar pounced, grabbing Hawkstar around the throat and snapping back his neck before he had time to react. “Unfortunately, you learned nothing.” “You traitor,” Hawkstar gasped, flexing his paws as if to drag his claws through Bramblestar’s skin. “I don’t—believe you.” The sluggish black blood of the Place of No Stars oozed from Hawkstar’s rapidly fading body and trickled into the nearby stream. “Well, Hawkstar, Tigerstar, you’re both gone,” he said to no one. “Your plans all failed. I guess it’s over now. “I’m going to keep wandering. I’ve noticed myself starting to fade. Not much, but it’s all for the best. I think—I think cats want to forget me. And that’s fine by me.” He would travel the Place of No Stars until he faded for good. Bramblestar wandered as he always did to the border it shared with StarClan. What’s that? he thought. There were stars. Tentatively, he stepped into the light. It did not give way under his paws. “StarClan?” he breathed. “No,” snarled someone behind him. “No, not you.” Bramblestar looked over his shoulder. “Ashfur. You’re here?” He must not have fought in the battle. “You can’t go to StarClan,” the gray tom hissed. “You have to wander here, alone.” “But I can see the stars. Can’t you?” Ashfur’s hackles rose. “There are no stars,” he hissed. “There can be no stars for us.” “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a star,” Bramblestar murmured. “You can’t cross there.” Ashfur stalked closer. “I won’t let you. You can’t be the one.” “I don’t think it’s up to us to decide.” “Get back here!” Ashfur lunged for him. Bramblestar sprang forward into the starry forest. It didn’t disappear. “I’m in StarClan.” Behind him he heard Ashfur wailing. “You can’t go to StarClan! It’s me she needs, not you! Come back!” “I’m sorry, Ashfur. You’re going to need to let go,” he mewed softly. He didn’t think the gray tom could hear him. But Ashfur froze. “Bramblestar, come here, please, just a paw.” Bramblestar warily drew closer. “A paw? For what?” Ashfur strained forward, quivering. “Just one paw on the border. One paw, that’s all it takes.” Did Ashfur want to attack him? How hurt could a single paw get? Bramblestar cautiously pushed it forward until it rested on the boundary between StarClan and the Place of No Stars. Ashfur grabbed onto the paw and pelted forward. “StarClan, StarClan,” he breathed. “What’s going on?” demanded another cat. Bramblestar turned to stare. “Bluestar?” “How did you get here?” she whispered, fear in her blue eyes. “The stars showed up for me. Ashfur—I don’t know.” Ashfur took one look at the old ThunderClan leader, turned, and dashed away to hide in the bushes. “I’m not sure what just happened. I don’t think he’s going to cause any trouble,” said Bramblestar apologetically. “If he found his way here,” said Bluestar, narrowing her eyes after Ashfur, “I suppose he must belong.” CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY ICEPETAL“Wait up, Icepetal,” called Dawnstream. Icepetal paused a moment, and her sister skidded to a stop by her side. “I’m a moor-runner,” Icepetal reminded her. “So? I can hunt on land.” “We’ve got to get some for ThunderClan,” said Icepetal. Ashstar had agreed to give ThunderClan a portion of WindClan’s freshkill for the next four moons after the battle. Fortunately enough this was during newleaf and greenleaf. Icepetal didn’t like giving up her prey, but ThunderClan deserved some type of compensation. “I just wish I could still hear myself coming from the prey’s end,” muttered Dawnstream. “You’re a good hunter even without your power.” Icepetal hit her tail against her sister’s side. “Yeah, well, food’s a powerful motivator,” Dawnstream purred. They hunted well together, and Littlestep and his new apprentice Kitepaw thanked them for the two mice they took to ThunderClan. Icepetal and Dawnstream returned to camp. Harespring watched with amusement as Larkpaw bounced up to them. “I’m going to be a warrior. I passed my assessment!” “That’s great,” mewed Dawnstream excitedly. “You’re speaking to the only warrior in camp who failed an assessment,” Icepetal whispered with a wry glance at her sister. “Aw, hey, that was only ’cause of the badger,” Dawnstream protested. Icepetal curled her tail. “It’s the only time I really ever beat her at anything,” she confessed to Larkpaw. “She passed the next time, and she’s been a better warrior ever since.” “Hey, you’re a better fighter than me,” Dawnstream mewed. “D’you think there’s going to be a badger today?” Larkpaw mewed, eyes wide. “Even if there is, we’ll take care of it for you,” Icepetal promised. “What’s all this about badgers?” Kestrelflight meowed. “Nothing,” said Larkpaw. “What do you think my name will be?” “Well, if you want a tradition of the best names, I’d say Larkflight,” the medicine cat mewed. “I’ve got to go check up on Furzepelt.” Furzepelt had fought for the Clans despite training in the Place of No Stars. She was expecting kits now, although she hadn’t told any cat who the father was. During the battle for the stars, WindClan had lost Hollyheart, Nightcloud, Tornear, Webfoot, Brackentail, and Owlwhisker, and Tawnyfur had fallen quite ill and died of greencough. The other Clans had sustained heavy losses as well. Neither Reedstar nor Cinderstar had had the chance to be deputy before becoming leaders. Blackstar had died not long after the battle, leaving Crowstar in charge of ShadowClan. Ashstar had lost a life or two, but she was a new enough leader that she was still going strong. It was almost better that there were so few experienced leaders; all of the Clans were in this together. Icepetal had to marvel at the unity the battle had brought them. Tigerstar had claimed he would bring the three Clans together—and in the end, he had tied four together, though not at all in the way he had hoped. Hollowflight was proud of Reedstar. Icepetal met him near the horseplace sometimes. They were probably never going to have kits; neither was interested, and she couldn’t see that changing. Mostly they just talked. He said Reedstar was the exact opposite of Hawkstar. RiverClan’s borders were still patrolled, but they no longer invaded WindClan or stole their prey. That evening Ashstar called the Clan together to name Larkwing and Crouchfoot. The two new warriors went to sit their silent vigil. Harespring and Sedgewhisker, their mentors since the battle, looked prouder than Icepetal could imagine being. The effects of the battle were not gone. The loss of so many Clanmates would never be easy; it left a hole in the conscience of the Clans. But at the same time Icepetal knew it had allowed for this time of wondrous peace. As she went to lie down underneath the swath of stars that was Silverpelt, the same words echoed in her ears that had haunted her since the battle. There will be three, kin of kin to the cat with a fire in his heart, who hold the power of the stars in their paws. Three will find their fourth, and the battle between light and dark will be fought. A new leader will rise from the shadows of death, and the Clans will survive beyond the memories of their memories. All storms pass, and all nights end. This is how it always has been, and this is how it always will be.They were safe. |
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:40:39 GMT -5
EPILOGUELEAFPOOLThe sun filtered down through the canopy of trees to the stone hollow that was ThunderClan’s camp. It was warm on her pelt, and Leafpool was finally happy. Lionstorm and Jayfeather had stayed in WindClan. Lionstorm had a mate, Heathertail, and Jayfeather had been unable to leave behind the cats who had become his family. They visited ThunderClan, though. They were both strong, brave warriors. Cinderstar had said the two of them were welcome whenever they chose to come, just so long as they brought no others with them and waited for a patrol to bring them to camp. Leafpool had spent many moons already living the life of an elder. Rainstep was a promising young medicine cat. She didn’t want to take his honor from him, so she stepped down permanently. He asked for her help sometimes, and she gladly provided it. Now he had an apprentice of his own, Rosefoot’s son Foxpaw. Crowfeather had been upset that Leafpool left. She couldn’t imagine why he would ever expect her to stay. They had held her in WindClan against her will until she was too old and frail to travel alone; now her family, the one he had taken from her, was back. “Morning, Leafpool,” said Squirrelflight, padding stiffly back into camp from the dawn patrol with Hazeltail and Skyheart. Her sister was too proud to retire. “Welcome back.” Leafpool stood up, stretched, and joined Squirrelflight on her way to the freshkill pile. “Foxpaw’s been trying to check me for ticks all morning. You would think he’d have learned by now I can handle them.” “I can’t imagine wanting to handle them. Mouse bile is gross,” said Squirrelflight. “True enough,” Leafpool purred. During ThunderClan’s absence a huge beech tree had fallen into their camp. At first they had been unsure of what to do, but Cinderstar, bounding along its trunk, had noted that its still-sturdy trunk provided a great support structure to build new dens off of. Leafpool and Squirrelflight stretched out on top of the beech now, soaking up the sun. She had enough training to know that Squirrelflight’s body needed a rest, though she knew better than to suggest it. She slept in the elders’ den with Brightheart. The old spotted queen would have made a fine leader if she had been younger, but Leafpool had to admit that Cinderstar was an excellent choice as well, and she would remain spry for many moons longer. Fireclaw, Littlestep, Mousewhisker, and Kitepaw returned with some of WindClan’s tribute prey. Leafpool still didn’t know how Squirrelflight had convinced Ashstar to agree to this, but maybe the WindClan leader really did feel as guilty as she claimed. She saw Hollyheart in StarClan sometimes. Her daughter liked to explore the forests of all the different afterlives. She said there were some she had never heard of until she was dead. There were cats to the west, apparently, who believed spirits lived in the waters of the sun-drown-place. Midnight the badger appeared there. And Bramblestar had come to her. At first Leafpool had recoiled, snarling, but he had only wanted to apologize. He was not forgiven; he would never be forgiven; but he was in StarClan now. “Cinderstar,” she had said to Yellowfang. “Cinderstar <em>is</em> Cinderpelt, isn’t she?” The grizzled old medicine cat had had to think for a minute. “She is, and she isn’t.” “I don’t understand.” “Cinderstar is her own cat—but Cinderpelt lives on in her. She gets to experience what she should have all along.” Yellowfang’s coppery eyes had closed. “Had she not been hit by a monster, Cinderpelt was destined to be the next deputy of ThunderClan, not Bramblestar.” Leafpool had been shocked to hear this; her mentor had been vital to ThunderClan’s survival, hadn’t she? They would still need a medicine cat after Yellowfang’s death. But Yellowfang had said that there would always be someone willing to step up, as she herself had once done. Now she could relax. ThunderClan was home, greenleaf was warm, the battle was over and done with, and all was well at the lake. Blood had spilled blood. There could be peace at last. 
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:41:00 GMT -5
TRIVIA OR WHATEVER- The original title for the single story was Nightfall.
- Brackentail is Leaftail. He wasn't named Leafkit because of Leafpool.
- It is actually a coincidence that Dawn/Dove and Ice/Ivy are so similar. Dawnstream is named for Dawn River, and Icepetal is named to continue the warm/cold contrast.
- "Rosetalon" is a callback to my old discontinued series Three United, in which a recently-dead warrior named Rosetalon was the reason for the reappearance of the Place of No Stars.
- I almost named Icepetal Icetooth instead.
- The fire in chapter 73 (the third chapter of Stone and Fire) is the same fire from Long Shadows.
- Ashstar is the grandmother of all of the Three.
- Eaglestep is Eaglekit from Fire and Ice.
- What's left after a fire? Maybe...ashes and cinders?
- Because Ashstar is so old, she doesn't live all that long after the epilogue. Harestar's a pretty good leader, and his first deputy is Sedgewhisker.
- Breezepelt is never an easy cat to get along with, but he does not betray WindClan after the epilogue.
- At the end, the deputies of ShadowClan and RiverClan are Tawnypelt and Petalfur.
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:41:10 GMT -5
FAN LIST
Maplestone360
FANART
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:41:20 GMT -5
extra 3
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 16, 2016 13:41:30 GMT -5
extra 4
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 23, 2016 9:19:27 GMT -5
okay I'll work on this after I finish my homework! I'm sorry for not doing anything yesterday but I had so much stuff going on
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Ash to Ash
Oct 23, 2016 11:53:31 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by ✨ ιηνєяѕєяєαℓιту on Oct 23, 2016 11:53:31 GMT -5
yay ! finally i can read it all lol
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 23, 2016 12:29:10 GMT -5
yay ! finally i can read it all lol part 2 is up now and I can start converting part 3 |
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 23, 2016 19:19:17 GMT -5
okay so I actually managed to get Darkening Skies up today too
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Non-binary
eph 💕
transed my gender 👍
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Post by eph 💕 on Oct 24, 2016 17:09:23 GMT -5
i read all of this today and it's amazing ok
i love what-if stories and this one is particularly well done
great job; i can't wait for the next part!
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 24, 2016 19:28:26 GMT -5
i read all of this today and it's amazing ok i love what-if stories and this one is particularly well done great job; i can't wait for the next part! thank you! I'm going to try to get the next part up by Sunday (hopefully earlier but I don't know) |
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 24, 2016 20:57:23 GMT -5
i read all of this today and it's amazing ok i love what-if stories and this one is particularly well done great job; i can't wait for the next part! thank you! I'm going to try to get the next part up by Sunday (hopefully earlier but I don't know) um…I found a faster way to do it…here it is |
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Ash to Ash
Oct 24, 2016 21:57:57 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by tiger beetle on Oct 24, 2016 21:57:57 GMT -5
hey plus part five
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Non-binary
eph 💕
transed my gender 👍
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Post by eph 💕 on Oct 27, 2016 21:09:25 GMT -5
i swear i read this every time i have even a scrap of free time it's so good
like hhh i need to know what happens next i love this
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 27, 2016 21:10:37 GMT -5
I will try to get part 6 up tomorrow but my schedule has been really weird lately so no promises…it should be almost guaranteed Saturday though (I think?) wait no I have something to do Saturday but not Sunday
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Post by tiger beetle on Oct 30, 2016 11:59:17 GMT -5
got Sunrise and the epilogue up
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Post by tiger beetle on Nov 2, 2016 13:16:38 GMT -5
bump
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Post by ✨ ιηνєяѕєяєαℓιту on Nov 4, 2016 14:15:53 GMT -5
ahhh ! i'm on like chapter six so far (i can never find time to sit down and do anything grrr curse having a demanding job and college at the same time ;~  and ahh i love it your writing feels so polished like it's already been through an editor and out on print lol i manage to read like a chapter every couple days rip but imma get through it B] |
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Post by tiger beetle on Nov 4, 2016 14:51:39 GMT -5
oh wow thank you!
you have a pretty far way to go…at least the story will last a while!
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Non-binary
eph 💕
transed my gender 👍
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Post by eph 💕 on Nov 5, 2016 20:08:05 GMT -5
binge read the end of this and it's so good<3
you write it so well and it actually seems feasible and frankly there are bits of this i like a lot better than canon so kudos :'D
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Post by tiger beetle on Nov 5, 2016 21:22:38 GMT -5
thank you!
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Post by Deleted on Nov 5, 2016 22:18:23 GMT -5
I think I read the beginning and end a few months ago. How long did it take you to write this?! Because seriously like what they're all saying above, this writing is pretty awesome. And accurate. When I started reading I was amazed at how much it sounded like the Erins'--in a good way! While I'm here may as well say I love your comics. Many a time I would be reading them and laughing away my stress when I was supposed to be studying for some huge test...ahem, I mean, good job. |
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and ahh i love it your writing feels so polished like it's already been through an editor and out on print lol