by Erin Hunter
“I don’t know,” Lionpaw admitted. “I thought that being a warrior meant protecting your Clan. Shouldn’t the other Clans be worried that ThunderClan has an extra warrior now?”
Hazelpaw nosed in beside them. “They sound like they’re in one of Squirrelflight’s stories about how the Clans came together to make the Great Journey.”
“The Great Journey’s over,” Hollypaw pointed out.
But Hazelpaw wasn’t listening. She was gazing at Graystripe. “How did he know we were on the island?”
“Do you think StarClan guided him?” Lionpaw wondered.
“How did you know we were here?” called a sleek gray RiverClan she-cat.
Graystripe lifted his muzzle toward her. “Mistyfoot, it’s good to see you again. We met a rogue who told us there were cats living by this lake,” he explained. “When we reached the top of the ridge, the full moon was shining on the water and I could see shapes moving on the island.”
“After that, we just followed the freshest scents,” Millie explained. “They led us down to the shore and over the fallen tree.”
Hollypaw heard a stifled hiss of disgust. Blackstar was staring at Millie with open malice. The gray she-cat glanced at him, then lifted her chin and returned his stare, and, even though her tail was trembling, she held the ShadowClan
leader’s gaze until he looked away. Hollypaw was impressed.
Graystripe saw what was happening and bristled, the muscles flexing on his broad shoulders.
“Let’s not forget the truce!” Leopardstar warned.
“The truce is for warriors, ” Blackstar snarled.
“The Gathering is for warriors!” Onestar called.
A murmur rippled through the WindClan cats and spread through ShadowClan.
“Is ThunderClan going to allow another kittypet to join its ranks?” muttered a disbelieving voice.
“I have trained Millie as a warrior!” Graystripe hissed. “A kittypet would never have survived such a long journey.” His voice cracked into a cough, and Hollypaw saw that the gray warrior was trembling from his ears to the tip of his tail.
Firestar must have seen it too. He padded over to Graystripe and pressed against him. “Let us take you back to camp.”
Graystripe glanced at Millie. “Do you think you can travel a little farther tonight?”
“I’ll keep going as long as you need me to,” she assured him.
“Very well,” Firestar meowed. He looked at the other Clan leaders. “Was there any other news to be shared at the Gathering?”
“Not from RiverClan,” Leopardstar answered.
“WindClan is satisfied,” Onestar told him.
Blackstar shook his head.
“Then let us return,” Firestar called to ThunderClan, “and show Graystripe and Millie their new home.”
“Does this mean ThunderClan has two deputies now?”
Breezepaw called boldly.
Hollypaw pricked her ears and, as she did so, she noticed Ashfur lean forward, whiskers twitching.
Sandstorm stepped up to Firestar’s side. “Graystripe and Millie are tired,” she reminded him quietly. “We should get them home as soon as possible.”
“Yes.” Firestar flicked his tail toward Brambleclaw. “Lead the way,” he ordered.
Brambleclaw instantly headed away through the wood toward the fallen tree.
Sandstorm wove around Millie. “Stay close to me,” she advised. “We’ll have you in a warm, dry den before the moon is much farther across the sky.”
Millie nodded and padded, limping slightly, alongside the pale ginger she-cat. Hazelpaw hurried to join them, clearly excited to be helping guide the stranger back to camp.
Hollypaw fell in beside her brother and they trailed after the others. She was acutely aware of the other Clans watching them leave. One WindClan apprentice dipped her head to Lionpaw as they passed.
“Do you know her?” Hollypaw asked, surprised.
“That’s Heatherpaw,” Lionpaw replied. “I met her tonight.”
Hollypaw looked back over her shoulder at the WindClan apprentice. Heatherpaw was whispering in her companion’s ear, her eyes fixed firmly on Graystripe as he disappeared into the trees.
Then Hollypaw heard a voice above the murmuring of the lake.
“Surely Firestar will restore Graystripe to deputy!”
Hollypaw glared at the RiverClan warrior who had fur the color of stone.
Another voice whispered, “The vigil to Graystripe was false!”
Rage flared in Hollypaw, but not enough to sweep away the foreboding that pricked her pelt. Had Brambleclaw been made deputy by mistake? She pushed the thought away, closing her ears to the gossip from the other Clans.
The tree-bridge loomed ahead, and she scrambled up through the dead branches to pick her way along the slippery trunk. Lionpaw waited at the other end. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and as she landed he mewed, “I hope all the Gatherings are as exciting as that one! Imagine Graystripe finding us!”
Hollypaw hurried after him, irritated. “Aren’t you worried?”
“What about?”
“About Graystripe coming back, of course!” Hollypaw flicked her tail. “How can StarClan approve of Brambleclaw being deputy when Graystripe is still alive?”
“StarClan didn’t tell us he was still alive,” Lionpaw reminded her. “If it meant so much to them, they should have sent a sign or something.”
Mousepaw slowed and fell into step beside them. “I think Brambleclaw is a great deputy, and Firestar can’t ignore that,” he mewed.
“Exactly,” Lionpaw agreed.
“But what about the warrior code?” Hollypaw protested.
“Does the code say anything about warriors coming back from the dead?” Lionpaw demanded.
Hollypaw shook her head. No cat had mentioned the warrior code at the Gathering. And yet she could not shake the feeling that some rule had been broken by appointing a new deputy when the old one wasn’t dead.
“Graystripe was deputy first,” she argued, half to herself.
“Do you want him to replace Brambleclaw?” Lionpaw asked, surprised.
“Of course not,” Hollypaw snapped.
“And the Clan is fine as it is,” Mousepaw pointed out. “So why bother changing anything?”
Hollypaw looked up ahead at Sandstorm and Millie. The two she-cats were padding along the lakeshore beside Firestar and Graystripe. Around her, the rest of the Clan murmured in hushed whispers, and Hollypaw guessed that they were as uncertain as she was about what would happen now that Graystripe had returned to ThunderClan.
Chapter 12
A line as pale as spilled milk gleamed on the horizon as Hollypaw followed her Clanmates back into the hollow. The excited whispering, which had buzzed along with them like a swarm of bees during the long trek home, ceased as they padded through the thorn tunnel. Moonlight bathed the clearing, but the edges of the camp lay in shadow. Hollypaw’s pelt pricked with anticipation as she saw two small shapes hurrying from the apprentice’s den.
“How was the Gathering?” Cinderpaw called.
Firestar halted, Graystripe beside him. “You should be asleep,” he meowed to the apprentice. “You will be too tired for your training in the morning.”
“Sorry, Firestar,” Cinderpaw apologized. “But we couldn’t sleep until we’d heard about the Gathering.”
Graystripe’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “We would have done the same when we were apprentices,” he reminded Firestar.
“Who are you?” Cinderpaw’s eyes grew round as she stared at the gray warrior.
“He was ThunderClan’s deputy before you were born,” Firestar told her.
“Graystripe?” Cinderpaw guessed, tipping her head to one side.
“Graystripe!” Poppypaw echoed excitedly.
Cinderpaw ran in an excited circle. “Can I tell Cloudtail?
Oh, please?” Without waiting for an answer, she charged toward the warriors’ den, callin
g her mentor’s name.
Cloudtail appeared at the den entrance, his sleep-ruffled pelt glowing in the moonlight. “What’s the matter, Cinderpaw?” he complained.
“Graystripe is back!”
Brackenfur pushed past Cloudtail and stood outside the den. “Graystripe?” He stared, blinking, across the clearing, then raced toward his old friend.
“Graystripe’s back!” Cloudtail yowled. As he bounded over to greet his Clanmate, Stormfur and Whitewing burst from the den, mewing excitedly.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Brackenfur murmured, touching muzzles with Graystripe.
“Firestar was right!” Stormfur added, pushing past Brackenfur. “He told us you’d find your way back!”
Graystripe stared at Stormfur—his son—in astonishment.
“Do you live with ThunderClan now?”
“What’s all this noise?” Mousefur’s grumpy mew sounded as the old she-cat squeezed stiffly out through the tangled entrance of the elders’ den.
Longtail appeared behind her, his blind eyes staring blankly ahead. He sniffed the air. Even in the dim light of the moon, Hollypaw saw the fur prick along his spine. “I smell Graystripe,” he meowed.
“Graystripe?” Mousefur scoffed. “You’re dreaming.”
“He’s not dreaming,” Firestar promised.
Graystripe pushed his way out through the knot of warriors in the center of the clearing. “It really is me,” he meowed.
“Great StarClan!” Mousefur raced over to Graystripe and ran her tail along his flank. “How in Silverpelt did you find us?”
Sandstorm stepped forward. “It’s a long story that can wait till morning,” she meowed softly. “Graystripe and Millie are exhausted.”
“Millie?” Mousefur glanced at the stranger standing beside Graystripe.
“Millie helped me make the journey here,” Graystripe explained. “She is my mate now.”
Mousefur narrowed her eyes, and Hollypaw’s belly tight-ened with anxiety. How would the crotchety elder react?
Warriors were not supposed to find mates outside their Clan, and certainly not kittypet mates.
But Mousefur only dipped her head to Millie. “Still breaking the rules, I see, Graystripe,” she mewed.
Hollypaw flicked the tip of her tail uneasily. The Clan seemed ready to accept Millie, but what did StarClan think about it? She glanced at Firestar. Perhaps having a leader with kittypet roots meant it was okay. The most important thing
was that Millie had proved herself a warrior by helping Graystripe find his way back to the Clan. They had both survived, and that must mean StarClan approved of her.
A shadow by the warriors’ den caught her eye. Brook had woken up. The mountain cat padded over to Stormfur and murmured in his ear.
Jaypaw emerged from the apprentices’ den, his nose twitching. “What’s going on?”
Lionpaw bounded over to him. “Graystripe’s back!”
Jaypaw turned his sightless gaze toward Graystripe and Millie. “Who’s with him?”
“His new mate,” Cinderpaw explained. “From Twolegplace.”
Jaypaw wrinkled his nose. “Well, tell Leafpool she’s got an infected wound. I can smell it from here.”
“Brambleclaw!” Firestar called to his deputy. “Find nests for Graystripe and Millie in the warriors’ den.”
Brambleclaw padded away with a nod.
Hollypaw was aware of a growing murmuring among the cats.
“Graystripe’s not as big as I imagined,” Cinderpaw whispered. “He looks small next to Brambleclaw.”
“He smells of crow-food,” Jaypaw mewed.
“He must have been eating like a loner for moons,”
Lionpaw pointed out. “Once he starts eating like a warrior again, he won’t seem so small.”
Whitewing looked uneasily at Squirrelflight. “What will happen now? Who is our deputy?”
Squirrelflight’s gaze flicked anxiously from Graystripe to the warriors’ den entrance, where Brambleclaw had disappeared. “I don’t know.”
Firestar gazed steadily at his Clanmates. “Nothing is going to change right now. We should just be grateful that Graystripe has returned to his Clan.”
“There’s no room in the den for two new nests,” Brambleclaw informed Firestar, returning. “One, maybe, but that’s all.”
“It doesn’t matter where we sleep, but I want to stay with Millie,” Graystripe mewed wearily.
“You shall,” Firestar promised. “We were going to expand the den anyway.”
“We’d rather sleep separate from the others at first,”
Graystripe told him. “Just till we get used to being around so many cats again.”
“There’s an alcove behind the warriors’ den,” Brightheart suggested. “The ground is grassy there, so it’s soft.”
“And there are plenty of brambles left from when we cleared the entrance to the medicine den,” Leafpool put in.
“If we arranged them in front, the alcove would be sheltered.”
Firestar looked at Graystripe. “You’d prefer this?”
The gray warrior nodded.
Hollypaw jumped to her paws. As a medicine cat apprentice she knew that she must take care of the new arrivals.
Their bedding would need to be warm and comfortable, and they should have herbs to help them recover from their long journey.
“Brackenfur, Cloudtail, and Brambleclaw,” Firestar called,
“start moving the brambles.”
“Yes, Firestar.” Brambleclaw hurried away to the browned and brittle brambles pushed into the shadows beside the medicine den. Brackenfur and Cloudtail followed.
“Can I help?” Cinderpaw begged.
Brackenfur stopped and turned, ready to answer, but Cinderpaw was already hurtling toward him. She careened into him, and fell backward, tumbling tail over whiskers.
“Sorry, Brackenfur!” she mewed, scrambling to her feet, her eyes filled with dismay.
Brackenfur purred at his daughter. “You’re always a tail-length ahead of yourself, Cinderpaw,” he meowed. “You remind me of my sister when she was an apprentice.”
“Come on, Cinderpaw!” Cloudtail called. “Help me drag this bramble over to the alcove.”
“Sorry,” Cinderpaw mewed again, and raced over to help her mentor.
By the time dawn broke over the camp, spilling pinks and oranges over the cloud-dappled sky, the den was finished.
With a sleepy nod of thanks, Graystripe and Millie padded inside.
On the other side of the clearing, Sandstorm and Spiderleg were leading Honeypaw and Mousepaw out of the camp on the dawn patrol. Brambleclaw and Cloudtail headed to their den to sleep. Hollypaw stayed with Leafpool outside the makeshift den and admired their work.
“That moss you collected will keep them warm,” she mewed. Leafpool had gathered a little from each of the dens,
and Hollypaw had helped her shape it into a comfortable nest for Graystripe and Millie. Graystripe might be ThunderClan’s rightful deputy; Hollypaw wanted to make his nest as cozy as possible.
“Should I fetch them some herbs?” Hollypaw offered.
“Jaypaw said that Millie’s got an infected wound.”
“How did he know?” Leafpool looked at her in surprise.
Hollypaw shrugged. “He smelled it.” She was groping for the name of some leaf or seed that might help, but after all the excitement of building the den, her mind felt too fuzzy.
“We’ll make sure we see to it come sunhigh,” Leafpool told her. “Right now, Graystripe and Millie need rest more than anything else.”
Hollypaw stifled a yawn.
Leafpool gazed down at her. “You must be tired too,” she observed.
“A little,” Hollypaw admitted. In fact, she was almost numb with exhaustion.
“Let’s get some sleep,” Leafpool suggested. She got to her paws and padded toward the medicine den. Gratefully, Hollypaw followed her. She was looking forward to curling up in her nest
and closing her eyes.
When Hollypaw awoke, weak sunlight was flowing
through the brambles, rippling like water on the sandy earth.
Immediately she thought of Graystripe. Firestar had told them nothing would change right now. Did this mean that he planned to replace Brambleclaw with his old friend eventu
ally? Would StarClan expect him to?
She padded from the warm moss, scenting the chilly air.
Her belly rumbled.
Leafpool lay in her nest, eyes closed. But as Hollypaw stirred, she lifted her nose. “Awake already?” She got to her paws and stretched, curling her tail till it shivered. “You had a busy night. I thought you’d sleep longer.”
“I’m hungry,” Hollypaw confessed.
“There’s fresh-kill on the pile,” Leafpool told her, scenting the air.
Hollypaw fetched a mouse for her mentor and a vole for herself. She ate ravenously, swallowing it in a few mouthfuls before licking her paws and washing her face. “Shall we check on Graystripe now?” she asked eagerly.
“Is it sunhigh?”
“Not yet.”
“Then let them sleep a little longer,” Leafpool decided.
She padded over to the piles of herbs at the back of the den and began sifting through them. “I need you to fetch some borage,” she meowed. “We’re running low, and Graystripe or Millie might have a fever. There’s some lakeward, over the ridge.”
Alarm pricked at Hollypaw’s claws. “You won’t wake them before I return?” There might be a lot to learn from the Clan’s newest patients. She hadn’t had a sick cat to treat since she became a medicine cat. She had tried to learn the names of herbs and what they were used for, but she was looking forward to actually using some. It might help her memorize
them a little more easily.
“So long as you don’t dawdle,” Leafpool warned.
“I won’t,” Hollypaw promised.
Leafpool turned back to her herbs, spreading poppy seeds under her paw to count them.
Hollypaw turned to leave, then paused. “The Clan sat vigil for Graystripe, didn’t it?”
“Yes, we did.” Leafpool didn’t look up from sifting through a pile of feverfew leaves.
“Does that mean he’s officially dead? In the eyes of StarClan, I mean?”