by Erin Hunter
There was no reply. Jaypaw dragged the stick farther into the open, rolling it down the bank until the lake water could wash over it. He sniffed along its length, but all echoes of the past had vanished.
Jaypaw swallowed hard, almost ready to start wailing like a kit that had lost its mother. He wanted to speak to Rock, to find out more about the cats who had lived around the lake so long ago. He wanted to know why Fallen Leaves had been left to walk the caves when all the other ancient cats, even the others who had died down there, had passed on somewhere else.
He was convinced these were the same cats he had felt around him at the Moonpool, whose paw prints dimpled the spiral path that led down to the water. They were far older than the Clans, older even than StarClan. What wisdom they would be able to share with him! They might even be able to explain the prophecy to him, the mysterious words he had heard in Firestar’s dream.
There will be three, kin of your kin, who will hold the power of the stars in their paws.
“Jaypaw, what do you think you’re doing?”
Jaypaw started. He had been so intent on the stick and his thoughts of the ancient cats that he hadn’t heard Leafpool approaching. Now he could scent her close to him and pick up the irritation that flowed off her.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“We need more mallow, Jaypaw. Just because we aren’t on the brink of battle now doesn’t mean that cats won’t get sick or injured. Medicine cats have to be ready.”
“I know, okay?” Jaypaw retorted. And who stopped the battle? he demanded silently. WindClan and ThunderClan would have ripped each other apart if it wasn’t for me and the others finding those lost kits.
He didn’t want to explain himself to his mentor. He could sense her looking on severely while he rolled the stick back up the bank and hid it again under the tree root. Then he padded away from her, along the top of the bank, jaws parted to pick up the scents of growing things.
Before he had covered many fox-lengths he paused, staring sightlessly out across the lake. Wind buffeted his fur, pressing it close to his body.
Where are you? His mind called out to those long-ago cats.
Speak to me, please!
“Jaypaw! Hey, Jaypaw!”
That wasn’t the voice he wanted to hear. Biting back a hiss of irritation, Jaypaw turned to face Hazelpaw; he could pick up her scent and hear her paw steps as she bounded up to him. Blundering through the bracken like a fox in a fit!
“Look what I’ve got!” Hazelpaw’s voice sounded gleeful and also half stifled, as if she was speaking around a piece of prey gripped in her jaws.
Jaypaw didn’t bother to point out that he couldn’t look at anything. Besides, the strong scent of vole told him what Hazelpaw was carrying.
“This is my last hunting assessment.” The apprentice’s voice was clearer now; she must have put down her prey. “If we do well, Berrypaw, Mousepaw, and I will be made warriors today.”
“Great.” Jaypaw tried to sound enthusiastic, but he was still annoyed at her for distracting him from ancient cats.
“I’m sure Dustpelt will be pleased with me,” Hazelpaw went on. “This vole is huge! It’s enough to feed both of Daisy’s new kits.”
“Daisy’s new kits can’t eat vole yet,” Jaypaw reminded her. Is she completely mouse-brained? “They were only born four sunrises ago.”
“Well, it’ll do for Daisy, then.” Hazelpaw still sounded excited. “She’ll need to eat well now that she’s feeding kits. Have you visited them yet? They’re the sweetest things I’ve ever seen! Daisy told me she’s named them Rosekit and Toadkit.”
“I know,” Jaypaw mewed shortly.
“I can’t wait until they’re old enough to come out of the nursery and play,” Hazelpaw went on. “Do you think Firestar might let me mentor one of them? I’ll have warrior experience by the time they’re ready.”
“They’re your half brother and sister,” Jaypaw meowed discouragingly. “Firestar probably won’t—”
“Hazelpaw!” A sharp voice interrupted, and Jaypaw heard the rustle of Hazelpaw’s mentor, Dustpelt, pushing his way through bracken. Annoyance was rolling off him in waves. “Are you hunting or gossiping?” he demanded.
“Sorry. Have you seen my vole, Dustpelt? It’s enormous!”
Jaypaw heard Dustpelt pad up and sniff the vole.
“Very good,” the warrior mewed. “But that doesn’t mean you can sit back and wash your tail. There’s lots more prey in the forest. I’ll take this back to camp, and you can carry on.”
“Okay. See you later, Jaypaw!”
Jaypaw remembered to call out, “Good luck!” as Hazelpaw bounded away, but his mind was already drifting back to the ancient cats. Their silence troubled him. Have I done something wrong? Are Rock and Fallen Leaves angry with me? His mind gnawed at the problem while he found a clump of mallow and bit off the stems to carry back to camp.
“Well done, Jaypaw.” Leafpool’s voice came from behind him as he was finishing the task. “Let’s go.”
Jaypaw gathered up the bundle of stems in his jaws. It was a good excuse not to talk. As he padded back through the forest behind his mentor he was still absentminded, hardly noticing the scents of prey or the scuffling of small creatures in the undergrowth. He was far away, trying to walk in the paw steps of those ancient cats.
Then a bird let out a sudden alarm call. Jaypaw started at the fierce beating of wings right in front of his nose, dropping his mallow as he jumped back.
“Hey!” Berrypaw’s indignant yowl came from a few tail-lengths away. “That was my thrush you just scared off. Couldn’t you see I was stalking it?”
“No, I couldn’t see that.” Guilt and annoyance at his own clumsiness made Jaypaw savage. “I’m blind, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“But you can do better than that,” Leafpool meowed crossly. “Keep your mind on what you’re doing, Jaypaw. You’ve been scattier than a rabbit all morning.”
“Well, I hope he hasn’t messed up my assessment,” Berrypaw muttered. “I’d have had that thrush if it wasn’t for him.”
“I know,” Brambleclaw meowed.
Jaypaw picked up the ThunderClan deputy’s scent a little farther away. Mousepaw and his mentor, Spiderleg, were nearby, too. Oh, no! Has all of ThunderClan been watching?
“There’s no point in wailing over lost prey,” Brambleclaw went on, padding closer. “And a warrior doesn’t get worked up over one little setback. Come on, Berrypaw, see if you can find a mouse among the tree roots over there.”
“Okay.” Jaypaw could tell that Berrypaw was still angry, in spite of what his mentor had said. “Jaypaw, just keep out of my way, will you?”
“No problem,” Jaypaw shot back at him.
“Yes, it’s time we got back to the clearing.” Leafpool gave Jaypaw a nudge with her shoulder. “This way.”
I know where the camp is, thanks!
Jaypaw collected his herbs and padded behind his mentor through the thorn tunnel and into the stone hollow. Brushing past the screen of brambles in front of the medicine cats’ den, he deposited his bundle in the cave at the back.
“I’m going to get some fresh-kill, okay?” he mewed.
“Just a moment, Jaypaw.” Leafpool set her own herbs down and sat in front of him. Jaypaw could sense her impatience and frustration. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately,” she began. “Ever since you and the others found the WindClan kits by the edge of the lake…”
There was a question in her voice, and Jaypaw could taste a powerful scent of curiosity coming from her. Leafpool clearly knew there was more to the story of the lost kits than he and his littermates were telling. But there was no way he would reveal that the kits had actually been wandering in the network of tunnels that lay beneath ThunderClan and WindClan territory. He knew that Lionpaw and Hollypaw, as well as the WindClan apprentices Heatherpaw and Breezepaw, would keep quiet too. No cat wanted to admit that Lionpaw and Heatherpaw had been playing in the tunnels for mo
ons.
So they couldn’t tell the story of how nearly they had drowned, along with the missing kits, as rain filled the tunnels and swelled the underground stream into a terrifying flood. Jaypaw still had nightmares about the surging, suffocating river.
“Jaypaw, are you all right?” Leafpool went on. Her irritation was fading, giving way to concern, a sticky flood that threatened to overwhelm Jaypaw just like the water in the tunnels. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if anything was wrong?”
“Sure,” he muttered, hoping his mentor wouldn’t detect the lie. “Everything’s fine.”
Leafpool hesitated. Jaypaw felt his fur begin to prickle defensively. But the medicine cat only sighed and mewed, “Go and eat, then. Later, when it’s a bit cooler, we’ll go up to the old Twoleg nest and collect some catmint.”
Before she had finished speaking, Jaypaw was on his paws and pushing his way out past the brambles. He padded over to the fresh-kill pile, sniffed out a plump mouse, and carried it back to a sunny spot outside his den to eat it. Sunhigh was just past, and the stone hollow was filled with warmth. His belly comfortably full, Jaypaw lay on his side and cleaned his whiskers with one paw.
Cinderpaw and Hollypaw had just pushed their way in through the thorn tunnel. Even at a distance Jaypaw could pick up the mossy scent of the training hollow clinging to their fur.
“I’m sorry I beat you every time,” Hollypaw meowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Cinderpaw insisted. “I wouldn’t be okay if you let me win by not fighting your best.”
Her voice sounded brave, but Jaypaw could tell from her paw steps that Cinderpaw’s injured leg was troubling her. There was nothing more the medicine cats could do; only time could strengthen the leg. Or was Cinderpaw destined never to be a warrior, like Cinderpelt before her?
Jaypaw was distracted from Cinderpaw’s problem by the sound of shrill squeals coming from the nursery. He winced. Daisy’s kits were only four sunrises old, but they had huge voices. Their father, Spiderleg, had insisted on taking Mousepaw out for his assessment, even though Dustpelt had offered to take his place so he could spend more time in the nursery. Jaypaw thought Spiderleg seemed awkward around his kits, as if he couldn’t adjust to the idea of being a father.
In any case, Jaypaw thought, the nursery was pretty crowded. Icekit and Foxkit, Ferncloud’s latest litter, were still there, though they were nearly old enough to become apprentices. And Millie, who was expecting Graystripe’s kits, had just moved in. Jaypaw knew that Firestar was proud of how strong ThunderClan was becoming, though he sometimes worried about how they would all be fed.
More rustling came from the thorn tunnel and Lionpaw staggered into the camp with his mentor, Ashfur, just behind him.
“Two mice and a squirrel!” Ashfur meowed. “Well done, Lionpaw. That’s the sort of hunting I expect from you.”
In spite of the words of praise, Ashfur didn’t sound enthusiastic. Jaypaw thought that his brother and Ashfur had never gotten on as well as mentor and apprentice should. There was something there that puzzled him, and something in Ashfur that he couldn’t read.
But it was probably unimportant. Jaypaw dismissed the question from his mind as his brother flopped down beside him, a mouse in his jaws.
“I’m worn out!” Lionpaw announced. “I thought I’d have to chase that squirrel all the way to ShadowClan.”
“Why bother?” Jaypaw asked. “It’s not your assessment today.”
“I know,” Lionpaw mumbled around a mouthful of fresh-kill. “But that’s not the point. A good warrior will always do as much as he can to feed the Clan.”
And Lionpaw wanted to be the best warrior he could. Jaypaw knew that, and he knew how tense and determined his brother had been ever since they found the kits in the tunnels. He knew the reason, too, even without reading Lionpaw’s mind: His brother had decided to concentrate on his training to make up for meeting the WindClan apprentice Heatherpaw in secret.
Jaypaw’s whiskers twitched in sympathy. As a medicine cat, he was allowed to have friends outside his Clan, though he couldn’t imagine wanting to. How could anyone trust a cat from a different Clan?
The patter of a falling pebble alerted him that Firestar was bounding down from the Highledge. His voice came from close to the warriors’ den.
“We need a border patrol. Which of you—”
Beside Jaypaw, Lionpaw leaped to his feet. “I’ll go!”
For a moment Jaypaw wondered why Firestar was organizing a patrol, until he remembered that the Clan deputy, Brambleclaw, was out in the forest giving Berrypaw his assessment.
“Thanks, Lionpaw,” Firestar meowed, “but I can see you’ve been working hard today.”
Lionpaw sat down again; Jaypaw could tell he was disappointed.
“I’ll go.” Graystripe spoke as he pushed his way out of the warriors’ den.
“So will I.” Squirrelflight was just behind him.
“And I’ll come with Honeypaw.” Jaypaw heard Sandstorm padding up from the direction of the apprentices’ den, with her apprentice at her side.
“Good,” meowed Firestar. “I think you should take a look at the border with WindClan. Everything’s been quiet since the kits were found, but you never know.”
“We’ll make sure the scent marks are fresh,” Graystripe promised. “And if we see—”
He broke off at the sound of excited meows and loud rustling from the thorn tunnel. Jaypaw sat up, jaws parted to distinguish the different scents of the newcomers. Berrypaw was first into the clearing, with Hazelpaw and Mousepaw bundling just behind him. They were followed by their mentors, Brambleclaw, Dustpelt, and Spiderleg.
“We did it!” Berrypaw’s triumphant yowl echoed around the stone hollow. “We all passed our assessment, and now we’ll be warriors!”
“Berrypaw.” Brambleclaw sounded stern. “That’s for Firestar to decide.”
“Sorry.” Jaypaw could feel Berrypaw’s sudden dejection and pictured him with head and tail drooping. “But we will get to be warriors, won’t we?”
“Maybe we should assess how well you can keep your mouth shut,” Dustpelt snapped.
“It’s okay.” Firestar sounded amused. “If the mentors will come and speak to me, we’ll arrange the warrior ceremony.”
“What about the border patrol?” Graystripe asked.
“It can wait till dusk. We’re not expecting trouble, after all.”
All the apprentices were gathering in an excited cluster near their den. Lionpaw pelted across to join them. Jaypaw rose, stretched, and followed more slowly.
“…and two voles,” Berrypaw was meowing as Jaypaw came into earshot. “I’d have had a thrush as well if he hadn’t frightened it away.”
Jaypaw’s neck fur bristled, but before he could speak Hollypaw jumped to his defense. “What does it matter? You passed the assessment.”
Jaypaw’s tail tip twitched. I can look after myself, thanks.
“I got a humongous vole.” Hazelpaw was too excited to notice the hostility between Berrypaw and Jaypaw. “And I brought down a blackbird just as it was flying away. Dustpelt said he’d never seen such a good leap.”
“That’s great!” mewed Honeypaw.
“I caught a squirrel,” Mousepaw boasted. Jaypaw remembered how the apprentice had climbed the Sky Oak in pursuit of a squirrel, and then was too scared to climb down again. Cinderpaw had broken her leg going up to fetch him when a branch gave way and she fell. Jaypaw would have bet a moon of searching the elders’ fur for ticks that the squirrel Mousepaw caught had been on the ground.
“I wish we were being assessed, don’t you?” Hollypaw murmured to Lionpaw. “Sometimes I think we’ll never be warriors.”
“I know.” Lionpaw sounded just as envious; then a jolt of determination shot through him. “We’ll just have to work harder, that’s all.”
Jaypaw didn’t join in the conversation. His paws were set on a different path. He wouldn’t finish his medicine cat tr
aining for a long, long time, and when he received his proper name he would still be Leafpool’s apprentice. He wouldn’t be a full medicine cat until she died. Even though his fur prickled at the thought of his littermates moving on without him, he didn’t want his mentor to die.
Besides, the prophecy said that he and the others would have the power of the stars in their paws as soon as they were born. It didn’t say that they had to be warriors first.
Firestar’s voice rang out from the Highledge. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather for a Clan meeting!”
The clearing flooded with different scents as the Clan began to emerge. Jaypaw could make out Mousefur and Longtail, the elders, as they left the shelter of their den under the hazel bush. Leafpool came out of the medicine cats’ den and sat in front of the screen of brambles.
Then the other scents were overwhelmed by Daisy’s, as she bounded over to the group of apprentices.
“Berrypaw, just look at you!” she exclaimed. “Your fur is sticking out all over the place. And Hazelpaw—have you collected every single burr between here and the lake?”
Jaypaw heard the sound of fierce licking.
“It’s okay, I can do it,” Berrypaw protested.
“Nonsense,” Daisy scolded. “You can’t go to your warrior ceremony looking like some scruffy band of rogue kits. Any cat would think I hadn’t brought you up properly.” She began licking Berrypaw again, then broke off to add, “Mousepaw, you’re just as bad! Have you seen the state of your tail?”
“I hope Firestar has forgotten about my tail,” Berrypaw mewed anxiously. “He might use it to give me my warrior name.”
Berrypaw’s tail was just a short stump. When he was a kit he had snuck out of the camp to go hunting and caught his tail in a fox trap.
“What, Berrystumpytail?” Poppypaw suggested. “That would be a mouthful!”
“Oh, no!” Berrypaw wailed. “Firestar wouldn’t, would he?”
“Don’t be silly,” Daisy mewed.
“I’m sure you don’t have to worry.” Brightheart’s voice joined the conversation. Among all the different scents, Jaypaw hadn’t noticed her approach. “When the dog pack attacked me, Bluestar gave me Lostface as my warrior name. But when Firestar became leader, he changed it. I’m sure he wouldn’t give any cat a cruel name.”