by Erin Hunter
“Get off!” he shrieked, and Jaypaw let go.
Owlpaw scrambled to his feet and spat at Jaypaw, ready to attack again, but Lionpaw fixed him with a threatening stare, and Owlpaw, faced by the pair of them, backed away, snarling.
The ShadowClan warriors were beginning to trip on the brambles, struggling as much against the thorns that clawed their pelts as against the ThunderClan warriors who were forcing them farther and farther into the bush. Sandstorm’s tail lashed triumphantly as a ShadowClan warrior cowered beneath her blows. Beside her, Whitewing nipped at a mottled apprentice as he tried to battle past her out of the clinging thorns. Brook and Stormfur worked together, jabbing at Smokefoot with merciless claws as he struggled farther into the brambles to escape them.
Russetfur stared in dismay at her warriors thrashing helplessly in the undergrowth. “Retreat!” she yowled.
The ShadowClan cats scrambled out of the brambles, leaving clumps of fur behind as they pelted past the ThunderClan warriors and fled back into their own territory.
Lionpaw scanned the battered ThunderClan cats. “Hollypaw!”
“I’m over here!” Hollypaw squirmed backward out of the undergrowth, her bushy tail pricked with thorns.
“Is everyone okay?” Firestar staggered out, his muzzle crimson with blood.
“Sandstorm’s twisted her paw.” Brambleclaw was standing beside the ginger-colored warrior as she licked at a forepaw.
“It’s just a sprain,” she reassured him.
“Stormfur?” Firestar looked at the gray warrior. “That looks like a bad cut on your shoulder.”
“It’ll heal,” Stormfur replied.
“I’ve lost a chunk of fur from my tail,” Spiderleg spat. “But it was worth it if ShadowClan thinks twice before trying to steal our territory again.”
“We need to make sure they’re all gone,” Firestar meowed.
“I’ll check,” Brook offered.
“Are you injured?”
“Just a torn ear.”
“Then take Spiderleg with you and search beyond the brambles,” Firestar ordered. “Make sure no cat went farther into our territory.”
Spiderleg and Brook hared away through the trees.
Ashfur flicked Lionpaw’s shoulder with his tail. “Thank StarClan you got help so quickly.”
“You held out well till we came,” Firestar praised him.
“Hollypaw fought like a warrior!” Birchfall commented.
“And Jaypaw never gave ground,” Brightheart added.
“We couldn’t let ShadowClan drive us from our own territory!” Graystripe growled.
Brambleclaw gazed across the clearing where the ShadowClan cats had fled. “We’re going to have to do something about ShadowClan before the next Gathering,” he vowed.
“Let’s start by remarking the correct boundary,” Firestar ordered. “Brambleclaw, you stay here with Ashfur and Birchfall and mark every tree twice along the border.”
Brambleclaw nodded.
“I’ll take the rest back to camp.”
“Can’t I stay with Ashfur?” Lionpaw begged.
Ashfur shook his head. “Go back to camp and get some ointment on those scratches. I want you back in training as soon as possible.”
Reluctantly, Lionpaw turned and followed his Clanmates.
Sandstorm was limping, and Stormfur kept stopping to lick at the blood welling from the wound on his shoulder. Millie’s pelt was missing clumps of fur along her flank, but she was buzzing with the excitement that came from winning a battle, her ears pricked and her tail twitching.
Lionpaw caught up with Jaypaw and Hollypaw. “Did you see me jump on Oakfur?” he mewed proudly.
“I wish I had!” Hollypaw sounded even more excited than he felt. “I was too busy seeing to that tabby warrior.” Her eyes were glowing. “I used a move Cinderpaw taught me the other day. It was brilliant doing it for real!”
“And you showed Owlpaw that he’s no match for a ThunderClan apprentice,” Lionpaw mewed to Jaypaw. The mottled apprentice was padding along quietly, tail down.
“Yeah, right,” he muttered.
“Hollypaw!” Leafpool had come out to meet the returning warriors. “Are there any serious injuries?”
Hollypaw blinked. “S-Stormfur has a scratch . . .” she stammered.
“Haven’t you checked?” Leafpool asked anxiously.
“Everyone can still walk,” Hollypaw offered.
“What about the tansy?” Leafpool pursued. “Did you find any?”
“Oh, yes,” Hollypaw mewed.
Leafpool looked at her questioningly. “Where is it?”
Hollypaw looked crestfallen. “We were going to pick some on our way back from hunting, and then Birchfall arrived to warn us that ShadowClan had moved the border, and Brambleclaw ordered us to—”
“It’s okay,” Leafpool meowed. “I’m proud that you fought with your Clanmates. But keep a lookout for any healing herbs on the way back to camp. There’ll be plenty of bites and scratches to treat when we get home. I’m going to check on the others.”
Hollypaw gazed at the undergrowth. “Do you think that juniper would do?” she murmured as they passed a large bush dotted with dark berries.
“The horsetail growing next to it would be better,” Jaypaw advised.
Hollypaw closed her eyes. “Horsetail—good for infec-tions,” she recited. Then she hurried over to the clump of spindly plants and tore one out by its roots.
Lionpaw could feel his scratches beginning to sting. His muscles ached from the battle, and when they reached the camp he padded to the halfrock and collapsed beside it.
Jaypaw climbed onto the smooth, low rock and hung his head over the side, while Hollypaw dropped the horsetail she’d been dragging and flopped down beside them.
“I still can’t believe we fought real warriors,” she breathed.
Jaypaw just stared blankly at the ground.
“Why are you looking so miserable?” Lionpaw asked him.
“You fought brilliantly.”
“Only with your help,” Jaypaw pointed out.
“Every warrior needs help—that’s what being in a Clan is all about!” Hollypaw reminded him.
“We had to work together to drive off one of ShadowClan’s warriors,” Lionpaw added.
“I couldn’t even manage an apprentice by myself,” Jaypaw mewed, flicking the tip of his tail. “They called me a worthless kit. Perhaps they’re right. Perhaps I’m just kidding myself, thinking I could ever be a real warrior.”
“Hollypaw!” Leafpool called from the clearing where the rest of the patrol were licking their wounds. “I can’t see to all the injured warriors by myself.”
Hollypaw leaped to her paws. “Coming, Leafpool,” she mewed. “Sorry!” She stripped a leaf from the horsetail and scampered over to where Millie and Graystripe lay.
Lionpaw longed to cheer Jaypaw up, but this was one battle his brother would have to fight by himself. However much he prayed to StarClan, there was nothing Lionpaw could do to help Jaypaw see.
At least Hollypaw had enjoyed the fight with ShadowClan. Lionpaw watched her, letting his weary paws rest, as she chewed up the horsetail leaf and began licking the juice into Millie’s scratches. Every time Millie flinched, Hollypaw leaped away, screwing up her face. A small worry began to flutter like a trapped bird in Lionpaw’s belly. Hollypaw
seemed so ill at ease now, her awkward movements nothing like the fluid grace with which she fought. She’d raced into battle, her eyes glowing at the challenge, but here she was fumbling among her injured Clanmates, her gaze shadowed by uncertainty. A strange thought pricked Lionpaw like a thorn in his bedding: Does Hollypaw really want to be a medicine cat?
Chapter 16
“Squirrelflight, take Cloudtail, Cinderpaw, Thornclaw, and Poppypaw and bring back as much fresh-kill as you can.” Jaypaw lay on the halfrock and listened as Firestar gave the order. “Our warriors will be hungry tonight.”
Jaypaw dangled his t
ired paws over the edge of the halfrock, feeling the cold stone soothe his aching body. The battle had left him battered and scratched, but he could tend to his own wounds.
Leafpool left a trail of marigold scent in her wake as she went to apply a salve to the scratches on Stormfur’s shoulder.
Hollypaw was busy treating Millie, though Jaypaw was confused when he detected revulsion rather than concern pulsing through his sister’s paws as she applied the pungent horsetail balm. Something was upsetting her, but he was too busy with his own thoughts to probe Hollypaw’s much further.
He kept wondering if he could have beaten Owlpaw without Lionpaw’s help. Stubbornly he told himself that he could.
He’d been able to pinpoint the ShadowClan’s apprentice by scent and sound. But a nagging doubt gnawed at his belly.
The battle had been so fast, he just hadn’t been able to keep up. The sound of Owlpaw’s breath in one ear had not warned him of the fierce jab that had raked the other. The thud of the ShadowClan apprentice’s paws on the leaves had been drowned by the cries of the other warriors, and Jaypaw had twisted and spun, only to find Owlpaw had darted around him already and was clawing him from behind.
He would never be a warrior.
It was the one thing he wanted above all. But he had to accept that he couldn’t fight alone. Fury raged inside him like a badger cornered in its set.
I don’t know of any medicine cat with visions as powerful as that.
Leafpool’s words echoed in his head. I think that you were destined to be a medicine cat.
All his life he had imagined growing up to be a warrior.
Why would he feel that way if StarClan had planned another destiny for him?
“Brambleclaw!” Firestar welcomed his deputy back into camp. Jaypaw had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed his father’s return.
“We’ve remarked the trees and covered the stench of ShadowClan,” Brambleclaw reported.
Something was bothering him; Jaypaw could sense hesita-tion tripping his father’s tongue.
“Oakfur claimed ShadowClan had a right to our territory because ThunderClan has so many cats who are not . . .”
Brambleclaw paused awkwardly. “Who are not Clanborn.”
“So ShadowClan still believe a cat must be Clanborn to
become a warrior,” Firestar growled.
“I told him that every cat in ThunderClan is a warrior,”
Brambleclaw meowed.
“Good.” Firestar raised his voice so that every cat in the clearing could hear him. “There is not a single cat in ThunderClan who does not deserve to be here!”
Anxiety flashed from Dustpelt. “But there is truth in what ShadowClan says.” The tabby warrior’s words cracked the air like a stone hitting ice. “ThunderClan has taken in more cats than any other. That alone leaves us open to criticism from other Clans.”
Stormfur got to his paws. “Do we care what the other Clans think?” he snarled. “I was raised in RiverClan, but does any cat here doubt my loyalty to ThunderClan?”
“Your father was a ThunderClan warrior,” Dustpelt pointed out. “You have ThunderClan blood.”
“And what about those of us who don’t?” Hazelpaw protested, her soft gray-and-white pelt bristling. “I was born in the horseplace with Berrypaw and Mousepaw. Does any cat think we are not worthy to train as warriors?”
“Of course not!” Graystripe called. “Belonging has nothing to do with blood! I was born pure ThunderClan, yet I am more of a stranger here now than any cat. Millie was a kittypet only moons ago, but she fought as hard as Firestar to drive off ShadowClan today—and so did Brook!” His eyes flashed toward the Tribe cat, who blinked her thanks.
Sorreltail mewed loudly in agreement. “Loyalty is proved by what we do, not where we came from!”
Jaypaw jerked his head up. He could sense doubt pulsing from Hollypaw, horsetail balm still fragrant on her paws. “But the warrior code tells us we should drive strangers from our territory,” she mewed uncertainly.
“We have taken in any cat who has asked us for help,”
Firestar meowed. “Does the warrior code condemn us for showing mercy?”
“N-no,” murmured Hollypaw.
“And every cat we have taken in has helped make ThunderClan stronger!” Firestar went on. Mews of agreement rose from the other cats.
“But,” Firestar added, “Brambleclaw is right to tell me what ShadowClan has said.”
“When have we let the other Clans tell us what to do?”
Graystripe challenged.
“Never. At the next Gathering I will make it clear that ThunderClan’s business is its own,” Firestar promised. “We will defend our borders as we have always done and let no Clan interfere in our decisions.”
A ripple of approval passed around the hollow, but Jaypaw still sensed tension. He knew from furtive worried whispers that he was not the only cat who wondered how
ThunderClan’s mixed blood might change the way the other Clans saw them, or even the way StarClan thought of them.
The other apprentices were asleep, the air sighing with their gentle breathing. But Jaypaw was wide awake. Leafpool’s words still haunted him. He kept trying to persuade
himself that he could learn how to be a warrior, that his fighting skills would improve. But every time he thought it, the hope became hollower.
He would go to the Moonpool. Perhaps there would be an answer for him there. Quietly he slipped out of the den. An icy wind stirred the bare branches of the trees; he would need to move very quietly, because every sound would travel far.
Brackenfur was guarding the camp entrance. Jaypaw could smell his scent. If the warrior turned him back then he would find another way out of the camp.
“You’re out late,” Brackenfur observed.
“I can’t sleep.”
“It can be like that after a battle,” Brackenfur meowed.
“I’m going into the forest.” Jaypaw waited for surprise to flash from Brackenfur, but the warrior did not flinch.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he offered. “Brook won’t mind starting her watch early.”
“No, thanks.”
“You need some time alone,” Brackenfur guessed.
Jaypaw nodded, and Brackenfur went on, “At least it’s quiet tonight. But I’ll keep my ears pricked for you, just in case.”
“Thanks, Brackenfur.” Jaypaw was relieved he had at least one Clanmate who didn’t fuss over him as though he were a newborn kit. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he called as he padded away from the entrance.
As he climbed the slope, the leaves slippery with frost beneath his paws, Jaypaw started to feel less eaten up with anxious thoughts. The noisy buzz and flow of the Clan,
which invaded his senses like mosquitoes nipping at his ears, was gone. He followed the route he’d taken with Leafpool toward WindClan territory; the memory of it seemed burned into his paws as they retraced the path that grazed the WindClan border and led up into the hills.
His ears were sharp enough to hear the tumbling of the stream before his paws felt the ground turn to rock. His nose twitched, smelling for danger, but he scented nothing other than clean, fresh air rolling down from the mountains. He followed the stream steadily upward until he was scrambling up the rocks that led to the bushes circling the hollow. The whispering voices, the softly walking cats who weren’t there, surrounded him again. Their presence was oddly reassuring, as if they had come to welcome him.
Jaypaw paused at the top of the spiraling path; though his eyes saw nothing, he could clearly picture the sloping walls of the hollow and the pool below cradling the moon. The whispering grew louder until it became a droning purr that echoed around the rocks. As he followed the path down to the Moonpool, his ears twitched, straining to make out words from the murmuring sigh.
“You are welcome, Jaypaw.”
“Come, Jaypaw.”
Scents flooded around him, the scents of cats he h
ad no memory of, yet who seemed familiar.
“Dream with us, Jaypaw.”
A pelt brushed his and then another as the cats guided him down to the pool. A faint memory stirred of a long, snowy
journey, where his mother’s voice had comforted him and two soft pelts had urged him on.
Jaypaw stopped at the edge of the pool and lay down on the smooth stone shore. Closing his eyes, he touched the water with his nose.
He opened his eyes and found himself in lush woodland.
Trees soared into the blue sky above his head. Ferns unfurled their arching fronds above his back. Warm air, carrying the fresh scents of the forest, lapped at his fur. Everywhere thrummed with damp green life.
“Bluestar?” he called. “Lionheart? Cinderpelt?” Perhaps he could contact Leafpool’s mentor where Leafpool had failed.
But there was no reply.
Frustrated, Jaypaw stood up and wandered into the trees.
Why had all those voices welcomed him to the hollow and then not come to greet him? He felt a twinge of resentment.
Why did StarClan have to make everything so difficult? He only wanted to know if he was meant to be a medicine cat.
At least he felt warm here, and safe. And he could see. He began to run and found his paws carrying him so swiftly through the trees that he felt as if he were flying. He raced beneath the ferns, listening to the slightest whisper of the leaves and smelling the forest scents that wafted on the very edges of his consciousness.
Suddenly he sensed emptiness ahead. No scent. No sound.
His fur prickled with unease, and he slowed his pace.
Through the gaps in the trees he could see a wall of mist blocking his way. He padded forward, and as the mist began
to swirl about his paws, he noticed that the undergrowth was becoming thinner. The trees around him grew stiff and lifeless, their branches too high for a cat to reach.