Fading Echoes

by Erin Hunter

  “S-sort of.” Tigerheart shifted his paws. “Anyway, it’s none of your business.” His mew hardened.

  He’s being very defensive. Jayfeather leaned closer. “ShadowClan doesn’t usually send out lone patrols in the middle of the night.”

  “ThunderClan doesn’t send out lone medicine cats,” Tigerheart countered.

  Cheeky cub! “You should go back to your den,” Jayfeather snapped. “You must have training tomorrow.”

  To his surprise, Tigerheart backed off. “Okay.” Turning, the young tom scampered away into the trees.

  As Jayfeather sniffed his fading scent, another touched his nose. It seemed oddly familiar as it wreathed around him but he couldn’t place it.

  The fur on his shoulders prickled. Stiffening, Jayfeather felt himself being watched. He spun around, tasting the air, ears pricked, frustrated by his blindness. Was a cat observing him from the shadows? No sound. No scent, other than those Tigerheart had left.

  Jayfeather shook out his fur. Don’t be mouse-brained! Tasting dawn, he ducked through a hazel bush and headed home.

  Who’d be watching me at this time of night?

  CHAPTER 8

  Cold raindrops showered from the roof as Ivypaw pushed her way through the entrance and flung herself into her nest, making the whole den shudder.

  “Hey!” Blossompaw sat up, shaking out her pelt.

  Dovepaw blinked open her eyes. Was it dawn already? She felt heavy with sleep after yesterday’s long training session with Lionblaze. He’d made her test her senses to their limit, insisting she keep her awareness spread to the very edges of their territory while she hunted for the Clan.

  “Have a nice sleep?” Ivypaw asked crossly.

  Gray light was seeping through the yew branches. Far above the hollow, the forest roared in the wind. Ivypaw’s pelt clung, sodden and dripping, to her small frame.

  Another stormy day.

  Dovepaw stretched and yawned. “Have you been out already?”

  “Dawn patrol,” Ivypaw huffed. “I don’t see why Brambleclaw made me go while he let you sleep in.”

  Dovepaw pricked her ears. Did Firestar tell his deputy about her powers so that he would make allowances too? Why couldn’t they treat her like an ordinary apprentice? She stiffened as Ivypaw went on.

  “What’s so special about you?” Ivypaw muttered. “I’ve seen Firestar watching you when he thinks no one’s looking. Now Brambleclaw’s started treating you like you’ve just come down from Silverpelt.”

  “I guess they’re just making sure we’re following the rules,” Dovepaw soothed, hoping Ivypaw would believe her.

  “And the rule is that you get to lie in a warm den while I’m out trudging through the rain?” Ivypaw snapped.

  Blossompaw was washing the drips from her pelt. “We all have to do dawn patrols sometimes,” she pointed out.

  “Some of us more often than others,” Ivypaw growled.

  “Perhaps Brambleclaw’s got something planned for me,” Dovepaw mewed.

  “What? Like an extra rabbit for breakfast?” Ivypaw curled down into her nest with her back toward Dovepaw.

  “I’m sorry you had to go out without me.” Dovepaw began lapping at the raindrops caught in Ivypaw’s pelt. I wish they’d send me on the same patrols as Ivypaw, just to make it fair. “At least we’re allowed out of camp now,” she mewed between licks.

  “Huh!” Ivypaw grumped, but Dovepaw could feel her relaxing.

  “They can’t punish you forever,” Blossompaw mewed.

  The two apprentices had been confined to camp for a quarter moon as part of their punishment for crossing the border into WindClan territory. Dovepaw couldn’t help thinking the elders’ den and nursery had never been so clean. They had spent every day dragging bracken in and out of the dens until Ivypaw was convinced they’d made every cat in the Clan a new nest.

  “Dovepaw!” Lionblaze’s call sounded through the yew branches.

  Ivypaw snorted. “Great timing,” she complained. “You were just getting to my itchy spot.”

  “Sorry,” Dovepaw apologized. “Got to go.” She leaped from her nest and pushed her way out of the den into a haze of rain. “What is it?”

  Lionblaze was sitting, whiskers dripping, in the rain-soaked clearing. “Hear anything?”

  Dovepaw sighed. This had become his usual greeting. Did he think she was nothing more than a pair of gigantic walking ears?

  “No,” she hissed, her irritation deepening as she noticed Firestar emerge from his den, his gaze flicking straight toward her.

  A ripple of dark fur caught her eye. Briarpaw was scampering toward her, brown pelt plastered with rain. Thornclaw, her mentor, padded slowly after her.

  “We’re going on border patrol!” Briarpaw skidded to a halt, slewing muddy water against Dovepaw’s pelt. The wind, circling down into the hollow, tugged at her whiskers.

  Dovepaw purred, cheered by her denmate’s enthusiasm. It was as if the young cat hadn’t even noticed it was raining.

  Thornclaw clearly had. He shook his whiskers crossly, sending droplets spraying. “Are you ready?” he asked Lionblaze, casting a brief glance at Dovepaw. “Brambleclaw wants us to check ShadowClan’s markers.”

  Dovepaw felt a surge of excitement. A run through the forest would warm her up. “Come on!” She raced for the thorn barrier, beckoning to Briarpaw with her tail, and slipped through, happy to be out of sight of Firestar’s watchful gaze.

  Thornclaw caught up to them outside.

  “Which way should we go?” Dovepaw panted.

  Thornclaw was staring along the gully. “We’ll go by the ancient oak,” he decided. He headed through the trees, his paws slapping over the wet leaves.

  As they headed into the dripping forest, Dovepaw screwed up her face. Mud was clogging her claws and oozing up through her toes. Each time they pushed through a thicket a fresh shower of water seeped through her pelt.

  Suddenly pawsteps slithered behind them. “Wait for me.” Graystripe was hurrying after them. “Firestar asked me to join you.” The gray warrior was puffing. His leaf-bare pelt, normally so thick, was rain-slicked against his body and he looked unusually lean.

  Thornclaw flicked his tail. “Has ShadowClan been crossing the border again?”

  “No prey has been stolen.” Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Just a few stray scent trails on our side of the border.”

  Graystripe shook the rain from his fur till it stood in spikes. “Firestar wants us to keep an eye on the situation.”

  Briarpaw’s eyes were round. “Do you think Firestar will mention it at the Gathering tomorrow?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Graystripe meowed.

  Thornclaw peered up through the trees. “If there is a Gathering.” Dark clouds swarmed the sky, heavy with more rain.

  “There’s a good breeze,” Graystripe observed. “I think it’ll have blown away the clouds by morning.” A hefty gust buffeted its way through the canopy and whisked the undergrowth. Graystripe dug in his claws as the breeze streamed through his whiskers. “If it hasn’t blown us away too.”

  The stream was in full flood and it took Thornclaw a while to find the narrowest place to cross. He leaped first over the gushing brown water and turned to watch Briarpaw safely over. Dovepaw jumped next, her heart lurching as her paws skidded on the muddy bank. Thornclaw grabbed her scruff while she found her feet. Graystripe and Lionblaze made the crossing in easy bounds.

  “It’s hard to believe the lake was ever empty,” Graystripe commented, watching the water swirl away downstream.

  Lionblaze was already pushing on, leaping onto a fallen tree. The bark was green and shiny with wet moss, and as he landed his paws skidded, sending him hurtling over the other side. “Oof!”

  Dovepaw heard him grunt as he crashed down through the dripping foliage. The smell of wild garlic tainted the air. She stretched her front paws up the log, peering over the top. “Are you okay?”

  Lionblaze was thrashing around in a
patch of dark green leaves, turning the air sour with their scent as he crushed them beneath him.

  Dovepaw swallowed back a purr of amusement as Lionblaze finally scrambled to his paws, his fur ruffled. “I’m fine,” he snapped.

  “Should we all disguise our scent?” Dovepaw asked as innocently as she could.

  “That wasn’t my intention and you know it!” Lionblaze flicked his tail and headed on through the forest while Thornclaw and Graystripe bounded over the fallen tree after him.

  “Be careful,” Briarpaw warned with a sparkle in her eyes as Dovepaw mounted the log. “It’s a bit slippery.”

  Dovepaw snorted.

  Briarpaw was purring loudly as they caught up with their mentors, but she hushed when Thornclaw flashed her a stern look. Instead, she wrinkled her nose at Dovepaw. “At least we won’t lose him,” she whispered, glancing at Lionblaze.

  The golden tom stank of garlic, but was striding ahead as though he hadn’t even noticed.

  Dovepaw began to scent ShadowClan markers, so strong that even the smell of Lionblaze couldn’t hide them. They mingled with the ThunderClan markers, which matched ShadowClan’s scent for scent. She wondered whether to cast her senses farther, to try to detect ShadowClan movement beyond, but yesterday’s practice had left her mind weary.

  Light splashed in among the trees as they approached the edge of the forest. Dovepaw recognized the grassy space beyond, where she had charged unwittingly into a Twoleg pelt-den on the journey upriver. Fortunately the field was deserted now. Not even a Twoleg would be dumb enough to sit around in this miserable weather.

  Lionblaze halted at the tree line, which was dotted with ShadowClan scent. Thornclaw and Graystripe began weaving among the undergrowth within the borderline, sniffing each bush and clump of ferns.

  “Any sign?” Lionblaze called.

  Graystripe shook his head, but Thornclaw had halted at a low hazel bush a few tail-lengths inside the border.

  Briarpaw hurried to join him. “ShadowClan?” She sniffed the bush, the fur rippling along her spine. “They’ve been here!” she mewed in alarm.

  Lionblaze and Graystripe crowded around her. Dovepaw hung back, the scent as clear in her nostrils as if she were standing beside it.

  Tigerheart!

  The scent pricked her memory. The young ShadowClan warrior had journeyed upstream to find the beavers with her. She knew his smell as well as any of her denmates’.

  “Get back, Lionblaze,” Thornclaw ordered. “That garlic stink is tainting everything.”

  That’s why he doesn’t recognize it! Dovepaw watched as Thornclaw sniffed again and found herself hoping that the warrior wouldn’t identify the scent.

  Graystripe padded to the border and started pacing, lashing his tail. “Patrol!” he warned.

  Four ShadowClan cats were approaching across the grass, their pelts rippling. Thornclaw and Lionblaze squared up beside Lionblaze to face them, keeping their paws on their own side of the border, but baring their teeth.

  While Briarpaw hurried to join her Clanmates, Dovepaw padded to the hazel bush and sniffed. It was definitely Tigerheart. What in the name of StarClan had he been thinking, crossing the border? Was it an accident? Perhaps he’d been chasing prey and hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

  “What are you doing on our border?” A black-and-white ShadowClan tom stared challengingly at the ThunderClan patrol.

  Dovepaw recognized Crowfrost from the Gatherings. He had halted a few pawsteps from the ThunderClan cats. Beside him stood Ratscar, Pinepaw, and Tigerheart.

  Graystripe curled his lip. “We’re checking out the ShadowClan scents inside our border.”

  Crowfrost’s hackles lifted. “What?”

  “There’s a hazel bush drenched in ShadowClan scent over here,” Lionblaze snarled.

  Tigerheart growled, “What would we want with a load of sodden old trees?”

  Graystripe dug his claws into the muddy ground. “Then why did you cross our border?”

  “No ShadowClan cat has crossed your border,” Ratscar hissed.

  Dovepaw was watching Tigerheart. His amber eyes gave nothing away.

  Thornclaw stood aside. “Come and smell it for yourself!” he challenged.

  “Don’t tell us what to do!” Pinepaw was ripping at the muddy ground, grass clumping between his claws. “Just because it was ThunderClan’s idea to go upstream to find the river doesn’t mean you’re in charge of every cat.”

  “Just smell it!” Thornclaw growled.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Crowfrost spluttered. “If we cross your border then there will definitely be ShadowClan scent on your territory.”

  Ratscar curled his lip. “Are you trying to trick us into a fight?”

  “Why would we do that?” Lionblaze stared levelly at the ShadowClan warrior.

  Tigerheart stepped forward. “Okay,” he meowed. “I’ll check it. But remember that you invited me over the border!” He trotted over the scent line, his tail straight up in the air. “Where’s this bush?”

  Dovepaw narrowed her eyes. If Tigerheart checked the scent, he’d disguise his old scent with new. The evidence would be hidden. Smart! She felt a flash of admiration for his cunning. But still, he was up to something. What could it be? She stood her ground beside the hazel bush as he approached.

  “Over here?” he called, shoving his nose into the brown leaves. “There’s a faint scent here, but it’s too old to tell if it’s ShadowClan or ThunderClan.” He turned, brushing his pelt against the bush, leaving strands of fur clinging to the spiky branches. “You must have bees in your brain, as usual.” Nose high, he turned back toward his Clanmates. The two patrols were still facing each other, as if they were daring their rivals to make the first move.

  Dovepaw hissed as he passed her. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  Tigerheart swung his head to stare at her, his eyes startled.

  “Don’t deny it!” Dovepaw whispered, one eye on her Clanmates. They were busy outglaring ShadowClan. “I recognized your scent before you crossed the border.”

  “Don’t tell, please!” Tigerheart’s tail drooped. “I’ll explain everything at the Gathering tomorrow.”

  He shifted his paws, glancing anxiously toward his Clanmates.

  A wave of sympathy washed over Dovepaw. She didn’t want to get him in trouble. He’d helped her defeat the beavers. She at least had to give him a chance to explain. “Okay,” she agreed.

  “Thank you.” Smoothing his fur, Tigerheart recrossed the border and joined his Clanmates. “They’re imagining it,” he reported to Crowfrost.

  “See?” Ratscar sniffed. “It was probably just scent drifting over the border.”

  Graystripe took a step forward. “There was definitely scent on that bush!”

  Crowfrost leaned closer till their whiskers almost touched. Only the invisible border separated them. “Why are you so scared of a bit of ShadowClan scent?”

  Briarpaw puffed out her chest. “We’re not scared!”

  No cat moved.

  “Are you leaving?” Thornclaw growled at last.

  “Why should we?” Ratscar flashed back at him. “We’re on our own territory.”

  Graystripe snorted. “Come on,” he ordered his Clanmates. “If they want to rot their paws by standing in the mud, let them.” He turned, letting his tail flick over the border so that it brushed Crowfrost’s nose.

  Crowfrost growled, his fur spiking, but he didn’t move as the ThunderClan patrol followed Graystripe into the trees.

  Dovepaw glanced over her shoulder. Ratscar and Crowfrost were talking softly, their heads bent together. Pinepaw was pacing the border, hackles still raised, but Tigerheart stood calmly gazing after her.

  Dovepaw caught his eye and looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  What’s wrong with him? He had been so open and straightforward on the journey upstream. She’d never thought of him as sneaky. At least he’d promised to explain at the Gathering.

  As
they approached the hollow, Dovepaw, out of habit, let her senses search for Ivypaw. Her sister was not in camp. She listened until she recognized Ivypaw’s mew.

  “Told you so!” Ivypaw was in the training hollow with Blossompaw. “You didn’t get me that time.”

  Comforted, knowing her sister was safe and well, Dovepaw followed the patrol through the thorns. Firestar was pacing the clearing, his pelt dripping from the rain. He turned as soon as the patrol entered camp.

  “Well?” he demanded, padding straight to Graystripe.

  Graystripe shook the water from his whiskers. “More scents inside the border,” he reported.

  Firestar frowned. Dustpelt, who had been sheltering under ferns at the edge of the clearing, emerged into the drizzle. “Is ShadowClan still trespassing?”

  Cloudtail, his white pelt gray with rain, sat huddled in the clearing, ears pricked and eyes round. Sandstorm peered out from Firestar’s den, her green gaze glinting from the gloom, and stared with narrowed eyes at the knot of warriors. Millie padded out from her den, touching Graystripe’s shoulder with her nose before nuzzling Briarpaw, their kit. The brambles at the entrance to the medicine den trembled and Jayfeather padded out and sat down, his unseeing stare fixed on the returning patrol.

  “I think it’s just one warrior who’s crossing the border,” Graystripe reassured his Clanmates.

  Sandstorm ran down the tumble of rocks. “Do you know which one?”

  Dovepaw glanced at her paws. While angry murmurs rippled through her Clan as they speculated, she let her senses stretch back toward ShadowClan territory. Tigerheart was following his patrol into their camp. While Ratscar reported to Blackstar, he lifted a rat from the fresh-kill pile and carried it to the edge of the clearing, then lay down and began to eat, with one anxious eye on his leader.

  “So what are we going to do about it?” Dustpelt’s challenge brought Dovepaw’s senses back to the ThunderClan clearing.

  Firestar lifted his chin. “Since we don’t know yet which cat is crossing the border, there’s nothing we can do.”

  Thornclaw growled, low and hard.