by Erin Hunter
Ivypaw narrowed her eyes. “I . . . I guess not. I just wake up there,” she admitted.
Jayfeather sat up. “Good.”
What do you mean? What if I wake up there again, without wanting to? Ivypaw felt sick. “W-why is that good?”
“Because you’re going to spy for us,” Jayfeather declared.
Ivypaw started to tremble. “But I don’t want to go there again.”
“Too late.” Jayfeather shrugged. “You joined the Dark Forest. Do you think Tigerstar’s going to let you go after training you so hard?”
“But I don’t want to train anymore!”
Jayfeather wasn’t listening. His blind blue eyes seemed to be boring into hers. “They don’t know you’ve changed your mind, do they?”
Ivypaw shook her head, unable to speak.
“Then you must keep training with them and tell us everything you find out.”
Ivypaw’s chest throbbed. “You want me to spy on them?”
“Of course.” Jayfeather smoothed his whiskers with a paw. “You were ready to betray us. Why not betray them?”
Dovepaw sat up sharply. “She didn’t know she was betraying us—”
Jayfeather interrupted her. “She was training with Tigerstar,” he snapped. “How was that ever going to be good for ThunderClan?”
Lionblaze tucked his tail over his front paws. “I think it’s a good idea.”
Ivypaw felt as if she were caught in another terrible dream.
“But only,” Lionblaze went on, “if Ivypaw agrees.”
Ivypaw felt Mapleshade’s paws on her shoulders, pressing her down into the riverbed. “No!” She just wanted to be an ordinary apprentice again, fetching moss for Mousefur and Purdy, learning to hunt in a real forest with real cats. “I’m not going back.”
“You may not have the choice,” Jayfeather muttered.
Dovepaw’s tail was flicking. “Let me talk to her on my own. Please.” Lionblaze dipped his head and leaped up onto the trunk.
“Come on,” he called to Jayfeather. “Let’s leave this to Dovepaw.” Jayfeather gave a small sigh and followed his brother.
As their paw steps crunched away through the snow, Ivypaw looked at her sister. “What’s going on?”
Dovepaw settled back into a crouch. “There’s something that you still don’t know.”
“What?”
“Climb over the trunk and go do something.”
“Like what?”
“Anything.” Dovepaw blinked at her. “Throw a snowball; climb a tree. It doesn’t matter. Just make sure I can’t hear you or see you.”
Puzzled, Ivypaw scrambled onto the trunk and bounded away through the snow. She looked back and saw nothing, then headed farther away. Once she knew Dovepaw wouldn’t be able to hear her, she slid behind a tree and dug a hole in the snow. Then she filled it in and hurried back to her sister.
“Well?” she panted.
“You dug a hole, and then you filled it in,” Dovepaw told her.
Ivypaw felt dizzy. “Did you follow me?”
“Did you see my paw prints?”
Ivypaw shook her head. “Then how did you know?”
Her sister was silent for a moment, gazing at her with wet blue eyes. “I can hear everything,” she blurted out. “I can smell everything too, if I set my mind to it.”
Ivypaw snorted. “Shut up! You’re just showing off again! No cat can smell and hear everything.”
Dovepaw lashed her tail. “I’m not showing off. Sometimes I wish that I were. I have special powers. I’m part of a prophecy that says three cats will have more power than the stars in their paws. Jayfeather and Lionblaze are the other two cats. That’s why they listen to me. That’s why Firestar listens to me.”
“Firestar listened to me when I told him about my dream!” Ivypaw pointed out.
“But you made it up!” Dovepaw thrust her muzzle in Ivypaw’s face. “This is real! Right now I can hear Hollowpaw getting lectured for not getting the ticks out of Pouncetail’s pelt yesterday. I can hear Dewkit and Mistkit fighting in their nest over who gets first bite of the stinky old sparrow Crowfrost brought them. I can hear Heathertail showing Harespring a new route through the thickest patch of gorse, and Onestar is washing—”
“Stop!” Ivypaw struggled to keep up. “You can really hear all that?”
Dovepaw nodded. “Everything. I heard the beavers.”
“That’s how you knew they were stopping the water!” Things that had puzzled Ivypaw for a long time were starting to make a strange kind of sense. “That’s why Firestar sent you on the mission, even though you were only an apprentice.” Her head was spinning. “So Firestar knows, too?”
“Yes, but only Firestar.”
Ivypaw’s pelt felt hot and prickly. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” She didn’t give Dovepaw a chance to reply. “Didn’t you realize how much it hurt to see you being singled out like some kind of super apprentice?”
Dovepaw shuffled her paws. “I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. No cat knows about Jayfeather and Lionblaze, except Firestar.”
“But they knew about each other, right? And I bet Hollyleaf knew!” Ivypaw was starting to seethe. “It’s your fault I went to the Dark Forest!!”
Dovepaw stared at her. “Wha-what do you mean?”
“The first time I met Hawkfrost, it wasn’t in the Place of No Stars; it was in a field with flowers and sunshine and stuff like that. He . . . he flattered me; he seemed interested in what I could do, not what my sister could do. No cat has ever treated me like that in this Clan. I’m just your shadow here.”
“That’s not true!” Dovepaw hissed.
“But that’s how it felt! You can’t blame me for listening to Hawkfrost, for wanting to learn all the moves that he taught me.”
“No cat is blaming you.” Dovepaw sighed.
Ivypaw narrowed her eyes to slits. “Are you sure? Lionblaze and Jayfeather don’t trust me. Maybe they want me to go back to the Dark Forest and stay there!”
Dovepaw flattened her ears. “Don’t be ridiculous! Can’t you see that we need you? Without knowing exactly what’s going on in the Dark Forest, the prophecy is useless. You got your wish: You’re the special one now.”
Ivypaw blinked. “I wish I weren’t,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”
Her sister rested her tail on Ivypaw’s shoulders. “I know,” she mewed softly. “We all are, even the cats in StarClan. I think that we could be all that stands between the Dark Forest and the end of the Clans.” Suddenly she looked tiny, huddled into a crouch with the snow banked around her.
“I’ll help you if I can,” Ivypaw promised in a rush. This wasn’t just about her now—in fact, it wasn’t about her at all. It was about every cat who lived beside the lake.
“Tell Jayfeather and Lionblaze that I’ll go back. I’ll pretend I’m still one of them, and I’ll find out everything I can about their plans.”
Chapter 24
Flametail folded the catmint in an ivy leaf and pushed it into his store among the brambles. He began to lay the tansy stems side by side, ready to bundle. They blurred in front of his eyes. A yawn overtook him.
“Flametail.”
Far away someone was calling his name.
“Flametail!” Kinkfur nudged him with her nose. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Sorry.” Flametail turned, blinking. “Did you want something?” Inwardly he sighed. He didn’t know if he had energy left to help any more cats.
“Please, come and check on Mistkit. She’s lost her voice.”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” Flametail promised. “I have to put these away first.”
As the queen ducked out of the medicine den, Littlecloud’s nest rustled. The tabby’s brown nose appeared over the edge. “You should get some rest,” he advised. His voice was still thick, but there was more life in it than before. “Did you sleep last night?”
Flametail padded heavily over to his mentor’s nest. “A bit.”
&n
bsp; Littlecloud’s eyes were brighter, and though his pelt was still clumped, it was freshly groomed. “I thought so.” Slowly he sat up. “You were tossing and turning.”
“Bad dream,” Flametail admitted.
“The same one?” Littlecloud prompted.
“Yes.” For the last quarter moon Flametail hadn’t had a moment’s sleep undisturbed by the same vision of falling far, far down into endless darkness while around him cats shrieked and yowled in terror.
“But no details?”
Flametail turned back to the tansy. “StarClan just sends the darkness,” he murmured. “They don’t send any clues. I don’t know who’ll strike first or how we should prepare.”
Littlecloud leaned forward. “Our warrior ancestors are with us,” he soothed. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be warning you. Perhaps they don’t know either. They’ll share it with you when they do.”
“Or with you,” Flametail countered.
A purr caught in Littlecloud’s throat. The first in a while. “Don’t worry,” he rasped. “I don’t plan to be joining our ancestors for a long time.” A cough shook him.
Flametail tensed. “Do you want more catmint?”
Littlecloud shook his head. “I’m getting better,” he assured Flametail.
“I want to be sure of that.” Flametail began to reach into his store.
“My fever has gone, and my chest is loosening. Save the catmint. Leaf-bare always drags on longer than you think.”
Flametail turned his gaze toward his denmate. “I’m glad we didn’t lose you.”
“You and me both.” Littlecloud’s eyes glowed. “Now go check on Mistkit.”
Flametail gathered the tansy stems together, putting one aside, and pushed them into the store with the catmint.
“Check Cedarheart, too,” Littlecloud went on. “I heard coughing from the elders’ den last night.”
“Okay.” Flametail picked up the tansy stem and headed for the entrance.
Kinkfur was pacing outside her den. She hurried to greet Flametail. “Mistkit was chattering like a starling this morning, but when she woke after her nap, she couldn’t speak.”
“Don’t worry.” Flametail hopped through the den entrance. “Even if she’s sick, we have herbs now.”
It was warm and dark inside the nursery. Sparrowkit was charging across the sandy floor, a moss ball only whiskers from his grasp. He batted it upward, and Dewkit jumped, snatching the ball in her paws. Sparrowkit lunged, knocking Dewkit into Flametail. Flametail dodged out of the way.
“Careful,” Kinkfur warned, pushing into the den.
Mistkit peeked out from a nest woven from hazel stems.
Sparrowkit untangled himself from Dewkit. “Mistkit’s really sick!’
“We’ll have her better in no time.” Flametail dropped the stem beside the nest. He sniffed at the kit. She was warm, but there was no sourness on her. If anything, it was whitecough. He nipped off one end of the tansy and laid it carefully at Kinkfur’s paws.
“Chew it up and give her the pulp to swallow after her next feed,” Flametail instructed.
Kinkfur nodded and pawed the stem out of the way as Sparrowkit and Dewkit bounced over to investigate.
“Blargh!” Dewkit shuddered.
Sparrowkit made a face. “Does she have to eat herbs?”
Flametail leaned down till his nose was level with theirs. “Don’t go too near her, or you’ll have to eat herbs, too.” He left Sparrowkit squeaking with disgust and nosed his way out of the den.
Cedarheart was lying outside the elders’ den, his flanks shuddering as he swallowed back a cough.
“Here.” Flametail dropped the rest of the tansy stem in front of the old tom’s muzzle. “Chew this,” he advised. “Make sure you swallow it all.”
Cedarheart pushed it away. “Save it for the young ’uns,” he croaked. “I’ve survived this long. A cough won’t harm me.”
“Probably not,” Flametail agreed. “But swallow it anyway. It’ll make my life easier.”
“In that case . . .” Cedarheart scooped up the tansy with his tongue, chewed it, grimacing, then swallowed. “I’ll be more glad to see this newleaf than I’ve ever been,” he grunted.
Flametail yawned. “I think I’d better stretch my legs,” he meowed. “Or I’ll be asleep before the dusk patrol leaves.”
He headed for the camp entrance. Outside, the air was already brittle with frost.
Shrieks sounded from the lake. Flametail pricked his ears. Was a cat in trouble? Then he recognized the voices of Redwillow and Pinepaw. They didn’t sound in fear for their lives. In fact, they sounded happy.
Paws pounded over the frozen snow toward him. A tortoiseshell pelt flashed, and Olivenose skidded to a halt beside him. She was out of breath. “We’re playing on the lake! It’s completely frozen,” she panted. “You could walk right over to RiverClan territory if you wanted.”
Dawnpelt caught up to her. “I’m going to fetch Scorchfur and Owlclaw!” She trotted past, heading for camp. “Go and play, Flametail,” she called over her shoulder. “You’ve been looking much too worried lately. Go and have some fun.” She disappeared into the brambles.
Flametail’s paws pricked. It had been a long time since he’d felt carefree. He’d been turning into an elder, obsessed with aches and pains and worrying about every cough and sneeze.
Olivenose bounded away. “Come on!”
Flametail raced after her, weaving between the bushes down to the shore. The Twoleg halfbridge jutted out into whiteness, clamped by ice. Olivenose trotted along the wooden boards and beckoned from the end with her tail. Flametail caught up to her and stood at the edge of the bridge.
The lake was completely frozen, a broad sheet of ice glowing pink under the sinking sun. Redwillow, several fox-lengths from the shore, raced over the gleaming whiteness, then flung himself down and skidded, spinning, on his belly. Yowls of amusement followed him from where Crowfrost and Ratscar stood watching. Even the senior warriors were enjoying themselves.
Olivenose jumped down from the halfbridge and landed on the ice. “Come on; it’s safe,” she called.
Nervously, Flametail hopped down, relieved to find the ice firm beneath his paws. He tentatively padded away from the halfbridge, heading for where Starlingpaw and Pinepaw were sliding stones to each other.
“What are you playing?” Flametail called.
Pinepaw jumped up. “Well done, Olivenose!” she meowed. “Now we’ve got enough players.”
Starlingpaw trotted up to Flametail. “We want to play prey-stone. It’s this game we just made up.” He called to Pinepaw. “Slide the stone over here!” He stopped the smooth fat stone with an expert paw as Pinepaw slid it fast over the ice.
“This is the prey,” he explained, pushing the stone toward Flametail. “Over there is the prey-hole.” He flicked his tail and Flametail peered across the ice.
“It’s not a real hole, but all the ice between that tree and that holly bush”—Starlingpaw flicked his tail toward the shore—“is where the stone’s safe. If you get in there, you win. If me and Pinepaw stop you, we win, and we have to swap places.”
Flametail narrowed his eyes. “Got it.” He put his paw on the stone.
Olivenose padded past him. “I’m on your team,” she told him. “Slide the stone to me if they block your path.”
Starlingpaw and Pinepaw were already taking up position guarding the “prey-hole.”
Flametail quickly realized it would be impossible just to slide the stone past them. Instead he turned and began batting it away from them. “Keep up with me!” he called to Olivenose. She scampered a few tail-lengths away from him and stayed level as he pushed the stone farther out across the lake. The ice was freezing under his paws, lightly dusted with snow, but wonderfully slippery.
Out of the corner of his eye, Flametail spotted a group of ThunderClan cats stepping gingerly onto the ice near their territory. He didn’t care. There were no boundaries on the lake. Anyway, he was a
medicine cat. He could go wherever he chose. As he picked up speed, he stopped lifting his paws and let them skate over the surface instead. The wind rippled his fur, and he felt as if he were flying. He let himself glide, then shoved the stone toward Olivenose.
She stopped it with a paw and spun around. “Let’s attack!” she yowled.
Flametail turned and, matching Olivenose’s speed, headed back toward Pinepaw and Starlingpaw. They were crouched on the ice, eyes narrowed and fixed on the stone, ready to lunge and stop it whisking past them.
“Here!” Olivenose sent the stone toward him.
Flametail caught it, not missing a step as he skated forward. He batted it back to Olivenose. She was ready and parried it back toward him. Starlingpaw and Pinepaw looked from side to side, trying to follow the stone as Flametail and Olivenose flicked it between them faster and faster, all the time closing in on the prey-hole.
Flametail fixed his gaze on the gap between the two apprentices and, with an almighty shove, flung the stone across the ice. It whizzed toward the gap, straight as a diving hawk. Flametail slowed to a halt and watched it get closer and closer with excitement rising in his belly.
“I’ve got it!” Pinepaw yelled to her denmate, and flung herself across the ice. She slid on her belly as fast as a snake and stopped the stone dead with an outstretched paw. Yowling in triumph, she hurled it back out across the ice. It hurtled past Flametail, shooting toward the middle of the lake. Flametail turned, paws skidding, and raced after it.
He skated past Ratscar and Crowfrost, chasing the stone as it whirled onward. With a rush of satisfaction he saw it slow and slide to a halt. Dropping onto his belly, he slid after it.
Crack!
The world split beneath him.
Terror gripped Flametail’s chest as he felt the ice heave under his paws and tip him into the water. He slid into the freezing depths with a shriek. The water was instantly black around him. It dragged at his fur, so cold it felt like claws.
Above him, the light faded as the water sucked him down.
This is what I was seeing in my dream!
He began to churn with desperate paws, fighting for the surface.