by Erin Hunter
If only I had my proper senses. . . . What if I never get them back?
Dovewing jumped as a tail rested on her shoulder, and turned to see Cinderheart.
“Cheer up,” the gray she-cat meowed. “Whatever’s worrying you, I’m sure it’ll be okay.”
“I don’t know,” Dovewing murmured. “It’s Sol . . . I don’t like him, and I don’t like the fact that he’s here.”
Cinderheart nodded, her blue eyes sympathetic. “I’m not too sure about Sol myself,” she confessed. “But if he did save the apprentices, then the Clan owes him a decent meal and shelter, at least.”
While Dovewing was thinking that over, she noticed Bumblestripe getting up from his place beside Blossomfall. The thick-furred warrior, his pelt just like his father’s, stretched before padding over to her.
“Hi, Dovewing,” he meowed. “I feel like going for a walk in the forest. Do you want to come with me?”
“Not right now,” Dovewing replied. “I’ll probably go to my den soon.”
Bumblestripe blinked, a hurt expression in his eyes. “Oh, okay.” He turned away and vanished down the thorn tunnel.
“That wasn’t very kind,” Cinderheart murmured. “Don’t go trampling on Bumblestripe’s heart. He really likes you.”
Dovewing wriggled, feeling her pelt grow hot with embarrassment. “No, he doesn’t. . . .” she began.
“Of course he does.” Cinderheart sounded convinced. “You know,” she added more seriously, “if there are no obstacles to getting to know a cat better, then you should take the opportunity.”
“Does that mean that you and Lionblaze—”
Dovewing broke off as Cinderheart shook her head, her blue eyes clouding with sadness. “No,” she mewed. “There is an obstacle to that, but you’d never understand.”
Dovewing stared at her. Does Cinderheart know about Lionblaze’s special power? Is that the obstacle?
She opened her jaws to question Cinderheart, but the gray she-cat never gave her the chance. “Off you go after Bumblestripe,” she urged. “It’s not too late. He’ll be so happy to see you.”
Though she still had misgivings, Dovewing didn’t argue. Ducking through the barrier, she emerged into the cool, dusky wood. Moonlight shone through the leaves, turning the forest floor into a pattern of silver and shadow. A faint breeze stirred the grass and rustled the leaves above Dovewing’s head.
“Bumblestripe!” she called.
There was no reply. Dovewing tried to send out her senses, straining to listen. After a moment she picked up the sound of paw steps, and the image of a cat sitting by the lake. Excitement tingled through Dovewing from ears to tail-tip. Maybe my special powers are starting to come back!
She raced through the forest in the direction of the cat she had seen. It was harder to stay focused, and the image was fainter than before, but when she burst out of the undergrowth onto the lakeshore she was delighted to see Bumblestripe sitting at the water’s edge, his face turned upward to the stars. The stripes on his pale pelt stood out sharply in the silver moonlight.
“Bumblestripe!” she called, her voice high-pitched with joy that she hadn’t lost her power for good.
Bumblestripe sprang to his paws and whirled around. “Dovewing!” he exclaimed, running to meet her. “You came,” he added, purring so hard he could hardly get the words out. “Come and sit beside me. It’s beautiful here.”
Dovewing suddenly felt awkward. “Is it okay if we go for a walk instead?” she asked.
“Sure.”
Together the two cats turned to pad along the shore, Bumblestripe walking close enough that their pelts brushed. Dovewing fished for something to talk about.
“Do you remember Sol from when he was here before?” she asked as the silence began to drag out.
“Sort of,” Bumblestripe replied. “I recognized him when he turned up today. But I was only a kit then.”
“What do you think of him?”
Bumblestripe shrugged. “He thinks a lot of himself, doesn’t he?”
A sudden spurt of amusement bubbled up inside Dove-wing. “Yes! All those stories! Jumping down onto a dog’s back . . . please! I know we leaped out of trees when we were fighting ShadowClan, but you’d have to be totally mouse-brained to try it with a dog.”
“Oh, I’ve had enough of Sol,” Bumblestripe meowed. “Let’s not talk about him here as well. Toadstep told me how you won that race the other day. Do you want to race with me?”
“Great!” Dovewing responded. “Where to?”
“That tree stump over there?” Bumblestripe asked, angling his ears toward a stump at the edge of the forest farther along the shore.
Dovewing nodded and bounded off, her paws flicking up little stones behind her. For a few moments Bumblestripe kept pace with her, but soon she began to draw ahead. Wow, I really can run fast! But then Dovewing became aware of sounds from the other Clans across the lake: A RiverClan cat was fishing in the stream beside their camp, while in ShadowClan a gray-muzzled warrior was teaching his apprentice about night hunting.
She felt as though her senses were surging in and out, like a wave on the lake. Sometimes she picked up everything clearly, sometimes the images were blurred, but excitement and relief pulsed through her as she realized that she was recovering.
It just needed time, she thought. Lionblaze was right! My senses were overwhelmed by the journey to the mountains, that’s all.
Dovewing was so pleased to have her senses back, and was concentrating so hard, that she didn’t notice where she was putting her racing paws. Something coiled around one forepaw; Dovewing was flung down onto the pebbles, letting out a startled yowl that ended in a gasp as the breath was driven out of her body.
Bumblestripe flashed past her. Dovewing tried to scramble up and realized that an ivy tendril, snaking out from the edge of the trees, had tripped her. As she wrenched her paw free, Bumblestripe was by her side again.
“Are you okay?” he panted.
“Fine,” Dovewing replied, struggling to get her breath. Even though she felt battered from her fall, happiness was surging through her like a stream in flood. I haven’t lost my senses. Everything’s okay! “I’m absolutely fine,” she repeated.
Bumblestripe let her lean on his shoulder as she staggered to her paws, and stroked her pelt gently with his tail to get rid of the sand and grit. His eyes shone. “You would have won the race if you hadn’t tripped,” he mewed.
“Maybe.” Dovewing had almost forgotten the race; getting her senses back was so much more important. “You’re pretty fast, too.”
She began to pad back along the lakeshore, and Bumblestripe stayed close to her side. “Dovewing . . .” he began, sounding a little shy, “can I show you something?”
“Okay,” Dovewing agreed, only half-listening as she focused on a WindClan she-cat scolding her kits for putting a beetle in her nest.
“It’s this way.” Bumblestripe veered into the trees, and Dovewing followed, ferns brushing against her pelt on both sides.
Without following any path that Dovewing could see, they came to a tiny clearing where wild jasmine scrambled over a gnarled oak tree, forming an archway with a tiny space underneath it. A few white flowers had already appeared on the branches. Bumblestripe squeezed into the space, and beckoned Dovewing with his tail. She crept in after him, feeling his warmth against her side, and enjoying the sweet scent of the jasmine flowers.
“I’ve always loved this place,” Bumblestripe confided in her. “It’s even better in greenleaf, when all the flowers are out.” He blinked at her anxiously, and Dovewing realized he was afraid that she might make fun of him.
“It’s lovely,” she assured him.
Bumblestripe relaxed and lifted his muzzle to gaze upward; Dovewing spotted a gap between the branches through which they could see the stars.
“I like to look up at our ancestors,” he meowed. “Sometimes I wonder which ones are mine.” He hesitated, then added, “I think your ancestors
would shine really brightly, Dovewing.”
“I don’t know about that,” Dovewing replied. “I think my ancestors would be hiding behind a cloud, because they were always getting into trouble!”
Bumblestripe let out a little mrrow of laughter. “I think that’s an ancestor of mine up there,” he murmured, pointing with his tail. “The one that looks as if it’s stuck in the branches!”
“I wonder if they’re watching us,” Dovewing mused. “Can they see everything we’re doing from up there?”
“I think they can,” Bumblestripe meowed seriously. “They glare down at us and see all the things we’re doing wrong. I bet that one over there knows all about the time I put fire ants in Blossomfall’s nest!”
“You didn’t!” Dovewing exclaimed, half-amused and half-shocked.
“I did.” Bumblestripe ducked his head, embarrassed. “When we were apprentices. She got back at me, though; she pushed me into the stream when I wasn’t looking.”
Dovewing snorted. “There must be a star glaring down at her, then. Maybe it’s that one.” She pointed at it with one paw. “And the one beside it is annoyed with me because I forgot to change the elders’ bedding one time.”
“Oh, no!” Bumblestripe leaned over and touched her ear with his nose. “I bet Mousefur told you off.”
Dovewing winced. “I think they must have heard her in RiverClan!”
Bumblestripe lapsed into silence. This is good, Dovewing thought, reveling in the cool grass and the scent that wreathed around her. Just sitting here, talking to a Clanmate, looking at the stars. . . .
It wasn’t exactly the same as the nights she had spent with Tigerheart—she couldn’t feel her heart thumping hard enough to burst out of her chest, and her paws weren’t tingling as she ran through forbidden territory—but right at that moment, she was very happy to be sitting beneath the jasmine with Bumblestripe, and nowhere else.
“Okay,” Cinderheart meowed. “Let’s see your hunter’s crouch.”
Dovewing watched as Ivypool took up her position at the edge of the training clearing, while Cinderheart padded around her, checking that she had it right.
“Tuck your tail in a bit more,” she instructed. “Yes, that’s great. Now spring, and see if you can hit that primrose under the tree over there.”
Ivypool bunched her muscles and exploded in an enormous pounce, leaping through the air and bringing her forepaws down on the primrose, flattening it to the ground.
“Well done,” Lionblaze commented. “Now let’s see you do it, Dovewing.”
As she crouched down, trying to make sure her paws and tail were in the right place, Dovewing thought that once she might have resented going back to this kind of basic training with her former mentor. But today she felt too happy to resent anything. She had slept well the night before, after her walk with Bumblestripe, and this morning her senses were even clearer.
She felt a claw-scratch of fear, knowing how fragile her special senses were. But then she shrugged off the feeling. I have to protect them, that’s all, just like I protect my paws on stony ground, or the soft parts of my belly in a fight.
While Lionblaze checked her position, she took a moment to reach out. WindClan had a new litter of kits. Noisy little things! Dovewing thought as they burrowed into their mother’s belly to feed. In RiverClan the newly-made warriors were overwhelmed by excitement at being out on patrol, while in ShadowClan Tigerheart was teaching a couple of apprentices how to stalk a squirrel. Dovewing let out a mrrow of laughter as something alerted their prey. The squirrel dashed one way, then doubled back and ran right across Tigerheart’s back before leaping to safety up a tree.
“You’re in a good mood today,” Lionblaze commented.
“Mmm,” Cinderheart agreed with a twitch of her whiskers. “That must have been a really good walk last night!”
“What walk?” Lionblaze asked.
Cinderheart glanced at him, her blue eyes glimmering. “I couldn’t possibly tell you.”
Lionblaze flicked his ears. “Okay. Meanwhile, Dovewing, bring your hind paws a bit farther forward and see if you can pounce on that primrose.”
“If Ivypool hasn’t demolished it,” Dovewing muttered.
Drawing her paws in to give more power to her spring, she launched herself across the clearing and landed beside her sister, shredding what was left of the pale yellow primrose with her claws.
“Good!” Lionblaze commented. “You’re both on form today.”
“What did Cinderheart mean about a walk last night?” Ivypool whispered. “You were really late coming back to the den.”
Dovewing didn’t want to talk about her evening with Bumblestripe, but she knew that her sister would be upset if she refused. “Nothing,” she replied. “I went down to the lake with Bumblestripe, that’s all.”
Ivypool’s eyes widened with surprise. “Oh, that’s terrific!” she exclaimed. “He’s really nice. Are you two going to be mates?”
“That’s the last thing on my mind!” Dovewing twitched her tail irritably. “It was just a walk. It was fun, but no big deal.”
Her sister gave her a poke in the side. “The two of you would have the cutest kits together!”
Dovewing rolled her eyes. To distract herself from Ivypool’s teasing, she extended her senses into the forest again. Almost at once she picked up the image of a cat heading through the trees toward the WindClan border. It took her a moment to identify his scent and appearance; she stiffened when she realized it was Sol.
Is he leaving already? she wondered. Or just going for a walk? He’s a strange cat, that’s for sure.
“Why don’t we do some hunting before we go back to camp?” she suggested, dismissing Sol from her mind. She wanted to show Lionblaze that her senses had returned.
“I’m surprised you have the energy after that training session,” Lionblaze remarked.
Dovewing bounced on her paws. “I feel like I could run right around the lake!” she purred. Then she spotted Cinderheart blinking with pleasure. Oh, no, she thinks it’s because of Bumblestripe!
“Okay, let’s hunt,” Lionblaze meowed. “And to make it a bit more interesting, we’ll have a contest. We’ll all start from here, and the first to make a catch wins.”
Ivypool pricked up her ears. “Wins what?”
“Oh . . . how about first pick of the fresh-kill pile?” Cinderheart suggested.
Dovewing crouched down and waited, sending out her senses as delicately as the seeds from a dandelion, drifting on the wind. Soon she picked up a bird—a moorhen—beside the lake, pecking its way along the shoreline. Concentrating intensely, she held her focus as Cinderheart and Ivypool set off in different directions, holding their heads high to scent the air.
Lionblaze was still watching her. Dovewing fixed on the exact location of the moorhen, still pecking among the little stones at the water’s edge, then sprang to her paws. She took off toward the lake, winding her way through the trees, leaping over dead branches and tiny streams.
I didn’t realize how far we were from the lake!
Pausing beside a hazel bush, Dovewing checked that the moorhen was still there, then carried on. As she burst out of the trees the bird fluttered up, but she batted it out of the air with a massive pounce, and gave it a sharp bite to the neck. Picking up her prey, she headed back to the clearing. She wasn’t surprised, given how far she had run to make her kill, to see that the three others had all gotten there before her.
“Bad luck,” Ivypool mewed sympathetically, a plump mouse lying at her paws.
Cinderheart had caught a squirrel, and Lionblaze a blackbird.
“Ivypool was first back, so she wins,” Cinderheart announced.
Dovewing dipped her head to her sister. “Well done.”
Picking up her prey, Cinderheart led the way back to the clearing with Ivypool at her side. Shrugging, Dovewing followed. Secretly, she wasn’t disappointed to be the last back. She had done what she set out to do. Lionblaze was watching her
intently, and as she met his gaze, he gave her a nod. He wasn’t disappointed, either. He knew her power had come back.
Chapter 9
Jayfeather shivered as a cold wind probed his fur with icy claws. He stood at the crest of a hill; around him a copse of pine trees bent their tops into the gale, their branches rattling together. Above the trees, the sky heaved with gray clouds.
“I’ve had enough of this,” Jayfeather muttered, gazing out across the bleak landscape. “I’m leaving.”
But before he could wake from his dream he heard the puffing breath of a cat climbing the hill, and spotted a skinny gray shape struggling through the thorny undergrowth.
“Yellowfang,” he sighed as the cat emerged into the open. “Did we really have to meet here? This wind is blowing my fur off.”
Yellowfang halted in front of him and stared at him from narrowed amber eyes. Jayfeather thought that she looked even scruffier than usual. Her pelt was ruffled by the wind, her breath stank, and her eyes were gummy, as if she hadn’t groomed herself for moons.
“I chose this place because I can’t risk any cat overhearing us,” Yellowfang informed him, wheezing.
“There’s still a bad feeling in StarClan, then?” Jayfeather asked.
“Yes!” the old she-cat hissed. “And you must trust no cat!”
Jayfeather dug his claws into the cold ground. He felt chilled to the bone, and wanted nothing more than to wake into his warm den. “What do you want?” he mewed impatiently.
“To tell you what you must do,” Yellowfang replied. “You need to recruit another medicine cat. I don’t mean an apprentice. I mean the other fully trained cat that lives in ThunderClan.”
Jayfeather’s pelt prickled with surprise. “But Leafpool isn’t a medicine cat anymore,” he pointed out. “That’s beyond my control—or yours.”
Regret clouded the old gray cat’s eyes. “I know,” she mewed sadly. “I don’t mean Leafpool. What she did was so wrong when judged against the medicine cat code, it’s as if her training had never existed. Don’t underestimate the depth of her punishment, Jayfeather. She hasn’t only given up her place as medicine cat. She’s forbidden to use her knowledge, even though she worked so hard to achieve it.”