by Erin Hunter
“Lionblaze!” Ashfur had halted, looking back over his shoulder. “Are you going to stand there until you take root?”
“Coming!” Lionblaze called back, bounding forward to catch up with his former mentor. “I was just checking for WindClan.”
Ashfur gave him an approving nod. “That’s good, but I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
“We can’t be too careful,” Lionblaze meowed, falling in beside the older warrior as they set off again.
Brightheart and Thornclaw had disappeared through the thick clumps of bracken; Lionblaze realized he had the chance he had been waiting for, to talk to Ashfur alone. Giving him a sidelong glance, he began, “Can I ask you something?”
Ashfur’s whiskers twitched. “Sure.”
“I feel like I need some extra battle training. Will you work with me?”
His former mentor stopped and faced him, his blue eyes stretched wide in surprise. “You’re a warrior now, Lionblaze,” he reminded him. “And one of the best fighters in the Clan. Do you really think you have any more to learn?”
Ashfur’s praise warmed Lionblaze like a ray of sunlight; sometimes, when he was an apprentice, he had despaired of ever pleasing the gray warrior.
“There’s always something more to learn,” he declared. “I want to stay as strong and fit as I can, so I’ll be ready for the next battle.”
Ashfur blinked thoughtfully. “I’m not sure there’ll be another battle. Not for a while, anyway.”
“WindClan might cause more trouble. And anyway, I still need the practice,” Lionblaze insisted. He flexed his claws, ready to tear frustratedly at the grass, then stopped himself. He didn’t want Ashfur to know how much this meant to him. “Please.”
“Okay.” Ashfur still looked unconvinced, but to Lionblaze’s relief he didn’t object anymore. “We could have a session now. I’ll just catch up to Brightheart and tell her to report to Firestar. Meet you at the training hollow.”
He bounded off, leaving Lionblaze to head to the training hollow by himself. The sunlight suddenly seemed brighter, and he relished the cool touch of the breeze in his fur and the dew on his pads. He knew that he had to keep training, to make the best use of his powers that he could, but he didn’t want Tigerstar to act as his mentor anymore.
Lionblaze shivered, as if thinking of the dark warrior could summon him; he glanced around but there was no sign of the striped shadow and burning amber eyes.
At first he had felt special, honored to be chosen by Tigerstar for extra training, and delighted to be able to beat the other apprentices with a move the dark warrior had shown him. But in the last few moons Tigerstar had changed, showing a hostile side and trying to control Lionblaze.
Or maybe he hasn’t changed. Maybe I’m just seeing what Tigerstar has been like all along.
He remembered Ferncloud scolding Foxkit and Icekit before they became apprentices: “If you don’t behave, Tigerstar will come and get you!”
The two kits had squeaked in terror, and burrowed close to their mother’s belly.
Was I completely mouse-brained? Lionblaze wondered. Did I think he was helping me when all the time he was using me?
If he practiced with Ashfur, he wouldn’t need Tigerstar anymore. And if Tigerstar kept visiting him, he would be strong enough to fight him off.
Maybe he’ll leave me alone if I can prove I’m a good enough warrior without him.
The training hollow was empty this early in the day, with a few wisps of mist still clinging to the grass. Lionblaze padded into the center and began practicing his battle moves, leaping and twisting in the air, imagining how he would land on Tigerstar’s broad shoulders and dig his claws into the dark tabby pelt.
“Pretty good.” Ashfur’s voice came from the other side of the hollow.
“Thanks,” Lionblaze panted.
He was turning to face his former mentor when Ashfur crashed into his side, knocking him off his paws. Furious that he hadn’t been ready, Lionblaze let out a screech. He battered at Ashfur with his hind paws, while Ashfur tried to sink his teeth into his neck fur. The gray warrior’s heavier weight pinned Lionblaze down, driving all the breath out of him.
“Still want to fight?” Ashfur taunted him.
With a tremendous effort, Lionblaze rolled over, thrusting Ashfur away. He scrambled to his paws, breathing heavily, and sprang on top of Ashfur before his opponent could recover. He gave the gray warrior two quick blows from his forepaws, then tried to leap away.
But Ashfur was too quick for him. Flashing out a paw, he hooked Lionblaze’s hind legs from under him, and the two cats wrestled together on the ground. Lionblaze’s ear stung as Ashfur cuffed him. He pummeled his opponent with his forepaws, finding it hard to keep his claws sheathed as the red haze of battle threatened to engulf him.
“Stop!” Lionblaze hardly heard the yowl, but Ashfur rolled off him right away and sprang to his paws. Lionblaze was left scrabbling on the ground, shaking his head to clear it.
“What in StarClan’s name are you doing?”
Now Lionblaze recognized Firestar’s voice. He struggled to stand, blinking grit from his eyes, and spotted Firestar on the edge of the hollow with Whitewing, Icepaw, and Birchfall just behind him. The ThunderClan leader’s eyes flashed green fire.
“Warriors fighting? Why?” he demanded.
Ashfur shook scraps of debris out of his fur. “It was just a practice bout, Firestar.”
“But Lionblaze is a warrior now,” Firestar pointed out. “Not your apprentice any longer.”
“It was my idea, Firestar,” Lionblaze meowed. “I asked Ashfur to practice with me. We were just trying to—”
“I don’t want to listen to excuses.” Firestar’s voice was cold. “What I saw just now was far more vicious than a practice bout. At a time like this, with trouble on both sides of our territory, we can’t afford to have warriors injured. And with leaf-bare coming on, Leafpool can’t afford to waste her herbs on unnecessary wounds. Are you both mouse-brained?”
“I’m sorry, Firestar.” Lionblaze hung his head. “It’s my fault. Don’t blame Ashfur.” But how are we supposed to fight well if we aren’t allowed to practice?
“Ashfur is an experienced warrior. He should have more sense,” Firestar retorted with a flick of his tail. Then he relaxed slightly. “I know you’re keen, Lionblaze, and that’s good, but try to think ahead, will you? This isn’t a good time to be taking risks.”
His pelt crackling with shame and frustration, Lionblaze muttered agreement.
“Whitewing, Birchfall, and Icepaw are going hunting,” Firestar continued. “You had better go with them, Lionblaze. Work off some of that energy on prey instead of another warrior. Ashfur, come with me.” With a flick of his tail, he padded out of the glade, followed by the gray warrior.
“We thought we’d try down by the lake,” Whitewing mewed to Lionblaze.
“Whatever.” Lionblaze let Birchfall and Whitewing take the lead; they padded close together through the undergrowth, with Icepaw bouncing excitedly at the back.
The heat of battle was still pulsing through Lionblaze’s body. He wanted to sink his claws into something; he hoped a squirrel or a rabbit would cross his path soon.
He couldn’t stifle the feeling that Firestar had been unfair. Surely this was the right time to practice fighting moves? There could be another battle any day with WindClan or ShadowClan. And how was he going to fulfill the prophecy if he never had the chance to work on his skills, to be the best warrior any Clan had ever seen?
Lionblaze pushed his way through the thorn tunnel, two mice and a vole dangling from his jaws, the scent of the prey flooding his senses. When he reached the clearing he spotted his brother and sister together outside the medicine cats’ den. Hollyleaf signaled to him with her tail, so when he had dropped his fresh-kill on the pile, he bounded over to them.
“What’s this I hear about you and Ashfur fighting?” Hollyleaf demanded.
“What?” Lion
blaze gaped at her. “How did you know?”
Jaypaw twitched his ears. “News runs through this camp faster than a rabbit. Don’t you know that yet?”
“Berrynose told me.” Hollyleaf sounded defensive. “He heard you when he was out with a hunting patrol. He said you sounded really vicious.”
“Berrynose!” Lionblaze spat with a single lash of his tail. “Hasn’t he got anything better to do than gossip about other warriors?”
“Anyway, is it true?” Hollyleaf persisted. “What were you fighting about?”
Lionblaze felt his neck fur rising. His claws slid out and his muscles tensed; he wanted a real enemy to fight, not just gossip and unnecessary questions.
“We weren’t fighting,” he snapped. “We were training. Just leave it, will you? I’ve already had Firestar clawing my ears over it, and I think he’s wrong! I need more practice. How can I defend my Clan if I forget what to do?”
By the time he had finished speaking he was spitting out the words, his claws raking the ground in frustration.
After a heartbeat Hollyleaf took a pace toward him and gently laid the tip of her tail on his shoulder. Lionblaze shivered, trying to push down the surge of fury that had nearly spilled over.
“You won’t lose your fighting skills,” Hollyleaf mewed. “Don’t you see? That’s the special power the prophecy gave you, to fight better than any other warrior in the Clans.”
“You don’t understand,” Lionblaze muttered. “It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like I have to keep practicing.”
“Well, you’d better not let Firestar catch you again. Cats are already starting to talk,” Hollyleaf warned. “We can’t let the rest of the Clan know about the prophecy, not until we’re sure what it means.”
“I’ll do my best,” Lionblaze promised, letting his shoulders sag. “I won’t get into any fights with other warriors.” At least, not where Firestar can hear us.
Thick darkness surrounded Lionblaze; the shrieks of battling cats echoed in his ears. He could taste the reek of blood and felt it clogging his paws and plastered in his pelt. His chest heaved as though he had been fighting all night. A gleam of moonlight pierced the clouds that churned across the sky; a single ray shed pale light on the ground at his paws. Lionblaze caught his breath in horror as he made out the body of Heatherpaw splayed out in the mud in front of him.
A gash ran down her body from her neck to her tail. Her light tabby fur was soaked with blood, black in the silver light. Her lips were drawn back in a frozen snarl and her blue eyes stared sightlessly at the sky.
“No…no…” he whimpered.
He started at the touch of a tail on his shoulder and whirled around to face Tigerstar’s intense amber gaze.
“Well done,” the huge tabby purred. “That was a battle well fought.”
“But this—this isn’t what I wanted!” Lionblaze protested.
“Isn’t it?” There was the hint of a growl in Tigerstar’s voice, and his eyes blazed. “Remember how she betrayed you! She nearly destroyed your whole Clan by telling WindClan about the tunnels.”
“But…” Lionblaze reached out a paw and laid it gently on Heatherpaw’s flank. Her fur was cold. “She didn’t deserve to die like this,” he murmured.
“All traitors deserve to die!” The fire in Tigerstar’s eyes flared up until Lionblaze was smothered in it; he let out a yowl of terror, expecting to feel his fur being scorched. His paws thrashed on the blood-soaked ground, but he couldn’t move.
Another cat thrust a paw into his shoulder from behind. Lionblaze turned and unsheathed his claws, ready to spring on his enemy.
Dustpelt stood in front of him, his gaze glittering with annoyance. Sunlight was pouring through the branches of the warriors’ den.
“Great StarClan, I thought WindClan was invading,” he snapped. “Do you have to make such a racket?”
“Sorry,” Lionblaze muttered. The moss and bracken from his nest was scattered from his thrashing around, and several other cats were looking up drowsily to see what the noise was about.
“I should think so.” Dustpelt turned away and went to curl up beside Ferncloud again.
Lionblaze was still shaking from his dream, his blood pounding with the heat of battle. He rose to his paws and pushed his way out of the den. Sandstorm and Spiderleg, over by the fresh-kill pile, turned to look at him curiously.
The vision of Heatherpaw’s broken body hovered in Lionblaze’s mind, clearer than the clearing in front of him. Is that what I’m becoming? A cat who slaughters? A cat like Tigerstar?
He wished he had never heard of the prophecy, and could be just an ordinary warrior with the same fighting skills as all his Clanmates.
But the words of the prophecy had been spoken, and Lionblaze knew there was no escape from the destiny it would bring down upon him and his littermates.
CHAPTER 4
Jaypaw turned away from counting poppy heads when he heard Leafpool brushing past the bramble screen into the den. Briarkit’s scent mingled with hers, and he heard a feeble cough from the young kit dangling from the medicine cat’s jaws.
“Briarkit’s worse?” he asked anxiously.
Leafpool set the kit down in a nest of bracken; Jaypaw heard the stems rustling as Briarkit tried to make herself comfortable.
“It’s what I was afraid of,” Leafpool meowed. “Briarkit has caught Millie’s cough. And Millie’s no better. I’d like to move her in here, too, but I don’t think Daisy could cope with feeding Bumblekit and Blossomkit as well as her own. And we’ve no room for all of them in here.”
Jaypaw felt steady waves of anxiety coming from his mentor like the surge of waves on the lakeshore. “Why are you so worried? It’s only whitecough.”
Leafpool sighed. “It could easily turn into greencough, especially with the cold weather coming.” Lowering her voice in case Briarkit was listening, she went on, “There are several kits in the Clan, and Mousefur is very frail. We could end up losing cats.”
She slid beside Jaypaw into the storage cave. “We’re almost out of catmint,” she murmured. “There’s enough for Briarkit now, and another dose for Millie, and that’s all.”
“I’ll go and fetch some more,” Jaypaw offered instantly.
“That would be a big help,” Leafpool mewed. “Take another cat with you—no, not because I think you can’t manage on your own,” she added as if she knew he would start bristling. “Two of you can carry twice as many stems.”
“Okay. Shall I take the other catmint to Millie first?”
“No, I’ll do that. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back with fresh supplies.”
When Jaypaw emerged into the clearing, the first cat he located was Poppyfrost, crouched by the fresh-kill pile. He hurried over to her.
“Are you busy?”
Poppyfrost gulped down a mouthful of vole. “Not very,” she replied. “Brightheart suggested I might help clear the bedding out of the warriors’ den—there’s so much of it now, and it’s a hard job when there are only two apprentices. But to be honest, I wouldn’t mind an excuse not to do it.” She swallowed the last of the prey and rose to her paws. “What do you want me to do?”
Jaypaw explained about Briarkit and the need to fetch more catmint.
“Poor little scrap,” Poppyfrost mewed sympathetically. “Of course I’ll help. Let’s go!”
She bounded across the clearing to the tunnel, leaving Jaypaw to follow. Once through the tunnel he caught up to her, and they headed for the abandoned Twoleg nest. Jaypaw felt his paws prickle at the memory of the battle; though the scents of blood and fear had faded, the screeches of fighting cats still echoed in his head. He steered Poppyfrost away from the tunnel where the WindClan cats had invaded ThunderClan territory; he didn’t want to think about what it meant if there was another entrance into the underground caves where he had first met Rock.
He began sniffing for catmint as they approached the Twoleg nest, but instead of the sharp, clean scent of the herb all
he could pick up was a musty smell.
“Oh, no!” Poppyfrost halted abruptly.
“What’s the matter?”
“The catmint. Oh, Jaypaw, it’s almost all gone!”
“Gone? It can’t be!”
Poppyfrost bounded forward and Jaypaw followed. He felt soft, thick grass under his paws, then a strip of churned soil where the Twolegs had once grown plants. The musty smell was all around him now, mingled with the occasional hint of fresh leaves.
“What can you see?” he demanded.
“It’s all squashed,” Poppyfrost replied, her voice filled with distress. “The stems are broken down, all black and rotten.”
Jaypaw felt a dark space of fear open up inside him. “That won’t help the sick cats.”
“I know. It must have happened in the battle.”
Jaypaw lashed his tail. “I bet WindClan and RiverClan did this deliberately.”
“Surely no cat would be that cruel?” Poppyfrost meowed.
Jaypaw worked his claws furiously into the earth and felt torn stems beneath his claws. “We’ll have to tell Firestar. They can’t get away with this!”
“No—wait.” Jaypaw had been ready to dash back to camp, but Poppyfrost stopped him with her tail across his chest. “Cats were fighting all around here. The catmint probably just got trampled.”
Jaypaw grunted; she might be right, but that didn’t stop him from being suspicious. Still, it was more important to see if he could find any fresh catmint for Briarkit and Millie. Reporting to Firestar could wait.
Tasting the air carefully, he managed to identify a few new shoots of catmint poking through the ground, but they were very small, and there weren’t many of them. He began to bite carefully through each stem.
Poppyfrost was moving around close by, rustling among the leaves. “I’m pulling all the broken stems away,” she explained. “That way the new ones will have room to grow.”