by Erin Hunter
“No, wait.” Lionblaze blocked the ShadowClan warrior with his tail. “Look.”
Petalfur had stopped struggling. Instead, she pushed her face up to the Twoleg’s, and batted gently at its ear with one paw. Dovepaw could hear her purring as the Twoleg stroked one paw down her back.
“I don’t believe I’m seeing this,” Tigerheart meowed gleefully. “Wait till I tell them back home.”
The Twoleg put Petalfur down and made patting motions at her with its paws, as if it was telling her to stay where she was. Petalfur sat down, still purring. The Twoleg strode across to the pelt-den, passing Sedgewhisker, who was watching, frozen with horror, near the entrance.
The Twoleg ducked inside and reappeared a moment later with something in its paw; the Twoleg carried the object over to Petalfur and put it down in front of her. Petalfur picked it up and rubbed herself against the Twoleg’s leg, then darted away, back to the edge of the clearing.
“What are you all staring at?” she demanded, dropping the thing the Twoleg had given her.
“Er…you, being so friendly with that Twoleg,” Toadfoot replied.
“So?” Petalfur challenged him. “It got us out of trouble, didn’t it? Oh, yuck!” she added, scraping herself against the nearest tree. “I’m going to stink of Twoleg for a moon!”
“I’m so sorry!” The undergrowth rustled as Sedgewhisker bounded up to them. “I didn’t think they’d be bothered about us.”
“No harm done,” Lionblaze murmured, while Petalfur was still trying to get the Twoleg scent off. “But let’s be a bit more careful from now on.”
Dovepaw curiously sniffed the Twoleg thing. It smelled like fresh-kill, mixed with Twoleg scents and herb scents, and it was shaped like a fat twig. “I’ve never seen an animal like that before,” she meowed.
“It must be Twoleg prey,” Tigerheart suggested. “Hey, Petalfur, can I have some?”
“You all can,” Petalfur replied. “I don’t know what it is, but it smells tasty.”
Dovepaw crouched down to eat her share. Petalfur was right; it was tasty and felt warm in her belly after the scant pickings that morning.
“Too bad there’s no more,” Tigerheart announced, swiping his tongue over his jaws and looking out into the clearing with a speculative gleam in his eyes.
“If you go out there, Tigerheart,” Toadfoot growled, “I will personally shred your ears and feed them to the brown animals.”
“I never said—”
“You didn’t have to,” Whitetail interrupted, sounding concerned. “The Twolegs already know we’re here, and that’s bad enough without looking for trouble.”
“I wouldn’t worry.” An unfamiliar voice spoke behind them. “The Twolegs are far more interested in the beavers.”
Every cat spun around. Dovepaw found herself staring at a long-legged tom with shaggy brown fur. He looked them over with sharp yellow eyes, his gaze flicking from one cat to the next.
“So who are you?” he asked eventually.
“We could ask you the same thing,” Toadfoot replied, his neck fur beginning to bristle. “And what do you know about these Twolegs?”
The cat seemed unimpressed with Toadfoot’s show of hostility. “My name’s Woody,” he replied. “I’ve been getting food from the Twolegs for the last few moons.”
With a warning glance at Toadfoot, Lionblaze stepped forward and dipped his head. “We haven’t come to steal food from you or the Twolegs,” he meowed. “We’re here because of the blocked stream.”
Woody’s ears flicked up in surprise. “You mean the beavers?”
“Beavers?” Whitetail echoed. “Are those the brown animals? Is that what they’re called?”
The loner nodded. “Big, mean animals with sharp teeth,” he mewed, confirming the impression Dovepaw had received through her senses. “I came across some of them once before, when I was traveling.”
“Have you ever fought one?” Toadfoot demanded.
The brown tom stared at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. “No way! Why would I need to? What do I want with a bunch of fallen trees?”
“We need the trapped water to fill the lake,” Rippletail explained.
Woody looked completely baffled. “Lake? What lake?”
“The lake where we live,” Lionblaze explained. “A couple of days’ journey downstream.”
“And you came all this way to find it?” Woody’s ears twitched. “Why not just go to a different lake?”
Dovepaw examined the cat curiously. He didn’t smell like a kittypet, and he didn’t have the soft, groomed look that the cats in the Twolegplace had. Was he a loner? He seemed quite confident to be in these woods, even though he was badly outnumbered by the patrol. He seemed to know a lot about the brown animals, too. Maybe he’ll help us free the water.
“You don’t understand,” Lionblaze replied to Woody, waving his tail to draw all the cats deeper into the undergrowth, well out of sight of the Twolegs. “There are a lot of us by the lake—far too many to give up our homes and find somewhere else to live.”
“And StarClan told us to come here and find what’s blocking the stream!” Tigerheart put in.
Mouse-brain! Dovepaw thought. Woody won’t understand about StarClan. She was surprised to see that the brown tom just nodded briefly, as if he understood very well. Maybe he’s heard of Clan cats before?
“We’ve got to chase these…these beavers away,” Whitetail meowed determinedly. “Then we can get rid of the blockage and we’ll have our water again.”
Woody shook his head. “Bees in your brain,” he muttered.
“Then you won’t help us?” Lionblaze asked.
“I didn’t say that. I’ll take you down to the river and show you the dam—that’s what they built to block the stream and make a pool deep enough for their den. You might change your mind when you’ve had a good look at it up close.”
“Thanks,” Rippletail purred; he was working his claws in the leaf-mold, as if he couldn’t wait to get close to the sound and scent of water again.
“There’ll be Twolegs around,” Woody warned them, turning to lead the way down the hill. “But you don’t need to worry about them. They’re only interested in watching the beavers. In fact, the Twolegs brought them here.”
“What?” Toadfoot halted, his jaws gaping in astonishment. “Twolegs brought them? In StarClan’s name, why?”
Woody shrugged. “How do I know? Maybe they wanted some trees chopped down.”
The brown tom led them around more of the black Twoleg things with the trailing tendrils, down into the valley, and across the dry streambed just below the wall of logs. This, then, was the beavers’ dam; the reason the water had stopped flowing into the lake. Dovepaw looked up at the looming pile of tree trunks as she padded past. It’s so big! Can we really shift something that size?
On the other side, Woody led them in a circle through the woodland until they approached the stream again. “There are no Twolegs on this side,” he explained. “But watch out for the beavers. You won’t be welcome here, you know.”
He stopped halfway down the slope, in a patch of fallen trees, and the cats lined up beside him to stare across the trapped stream above the dam. It had overflowed the riverbank on this side and spread out into a wide, flat pool, reflecting the gray sky. Here and there circles appeared, spiraling outward as if a fish had risen to take a fly.
Toward the upstream edge of the pool was a mound of mud, twigs, and bark, jutting out from the bank but not blocking the stream like the dam. Dovepaw detected strong beaver scent coming from it.
“What’s that?” Whitetail asked Woody, flicking her tail toward it.
“It’s where the beavers live,” the brown loner explained. “It’s called their lodge, and they—”
“Oh, look!” Petalfur interrupted, her voice rising to the squeak of an excited kit. “So much water…it’s wonderful!”
Before any cat could stop her she bounded down to the water’s edge, with Rippl
etail hard on her paws, and she plunged in, splashing her paws rapturously and ducking her head under the water.
“They’re like furry fish,” Tigerheart grumbled, padding up to stand beside Dovepaw and Sedgewhisker. “Say what you like, it’s not right for cats.”
“They look as if they’re having fun.” Dovepaw felt a little wistful.
She was so busy watching the two RiverClan cats play in the water that she stopped remaining alert to her surroundings. Suddenly she sensed movement on top of the dam. Spinning around, she saw that two heavy brown shapes had appeared on the logs. Their bodies were sleek and rounded like a bird’s egg, with tiny black eyes and ears like furled leaves. Their tails spread out behind them, broad and flat like a solid wing. They were much bigger than a cat, and as broad and sturdy-looking as the logs that they stood on.
“Beavers!” she yowled. “Look—up there!”
“Oh, great StarClan!” Tigerheart muttered. His neck fur fluffed up and his tail bristled to twice its size. “They’re weird!”
Still happily swimming in the pool, the RiverClan cats didn’t notice the two animals, even when they clambered down the dam and slipped into the water, slapping the surface hard with their tails and sending up a shower of drops.
“Rippletail! Petalfur!” Dovepaw screeched, hurling herself down to the edge of the pool. “Beavers! Get out now!”
The beavers glided across the pool, their huge bodies making scarcely any ripples. Dovepaw could hear their paws churning through the water and felt their massive tails steering them toward the cats.
Rippletail and Petalfur spotted them and began splashing madly toward the edge of the pool. The beavers swerved effortlessly in pursuit, lifting their heads to avoid the waves behind the cats. Dovepaw dug her claws into the ground as she watched the gap between them grow smaller and smaller.
Oh, StarClan, help them!
The two RiverClan cats scrambled out of the water just ahead of the beavers’ noses. Their fur was dripping and plastered to their sides, and their eyes were wild with fear.
“Run!” Lionblaze yowled.
Every cat bolted for the trees at the top of the slope. Glancing back, Dovepaw saw the beavers haul themselves out of the water, raising their muzzles and baring long yellow teeth. On land they were much clumsier than they were in the water; Dovepaw realized the cats could easily outstrip them if they gave chase.
But the beavers stayed where they were on the bank of the pool, gazing after the cats and not making any move to follow them. The patrol gathered close together under the trees, Petalfur and Rippletail shivering and shaking water from their pelts.
“That was close,” Rippletail muttered. “Thanks for warning us.”
“Oh, StarClan,” Toadfoot breathed. “This isn’t going to be as easy as we thought.”
Dovepaw caught Lionblaze’s gaze on her. He didn’t speak, but she could guess what he was thinking.
Why didn’t you tell us it was going to be this hard?
CHAPTER 19
Lionblaze led the patrol away from the water and into the cover of denser trees. He could see his own shock reflected in the wide, scared eyes of his companions. The two RiverClan cats were still trembling, huddling close together, their gaze flickering down the side of the valley as if they expected beavers to burst out of the undergrowth at any moment.
Woody followed them and sat down with his tail wrapped around his paws. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he observed with a yawn.
Lionblaze drew a deep breath, knowing that if some cat didn’t come up with a plan then they would all give up and go home. “Woody, do the beavers sleep at night?”
The loner shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s when I’m asleep, too. The Twolegs would know.”
“Yes, but we can’t ask them,” Toadfoot snapped, curling his lips back from his teeth.
“At least the Twolegs won’t be around when it’s dark,” Lionblaze meowed. “And the beavers might be asleep. I think that would be the best time to attack.”
The air tingled with tension as the cats looked at one another. Petalfur and Rippletail stared through the trees in the direction of the pool.
“That’s ours,” Rippletail murmured.
Lionblaze knew that they couldn’t leave now. After they had come all this way, they had to do something to get the water back, for the sake of their Clans.
“Look,” he began, scraping up a few twigs into a heap. “This is the dam. Here’s the pool, and this”—he drew a long scrape in the earth—“is the streambed on the other side.”
“We should divide ourselves up,” Toadfoot mewed, touching the ground with one paw on each side of the heap of twigs. “Attack from two directions at once.”
Lionblaze nodded. “Good idea. Once we’re on top of the dam, we start to take it apart until the water can get through. Woody, do you know if the dam is hollow? Would the beavers be hiding inside it?”
Woody shook his head. “No idea. And don’t think that I’m going to take part in this attack,” he added. “This is your battle, not mine.”
“We wouldn’t ask you to,” Lionblaze responded, though he felt a twinge of regret. Woody would be a valuable ally to have on their side.
“Okay, let’s hunt now,” Toadfoot suggested. “Then we’ll get some rest until nightfall.”
“But don’t go off alone,” Lionblaze warned. “And if you see a beaver, yowl to warn the rest of us.”
He padded into the woods with Dovepaw at his side, and he halted after a few tail-lengths to taste the air. “I can’t scent anything except beavers,” he complained.
“Same here,” Dovepaw meowed. “Look at this.” She stopped in front of a large pile of mud mixed with twigs and grass. Large paw prints were set into the dried mud. “I wonder what it’s for?”
Lionblaze padded up and gave it a cautious sniff, recoiling a pace or two at the strong reek of musky, fishy beaver scent. “Maybe it’s a scent marker,” he guessed. “If we get farther away from it, we might be able to pick up some prey.”
To his relief, the beaver scent faded as they stalked farther into the woods and left the last of the felled trees behind. Lionblaze began to recognize the familiar scents of mouse and squirrel. Hearing a scuffling sound from underneath a bush, he pinpointed a mouse and glided up to it, careful to set his paws down lightly. The mouse tried to dart off at the last moment, but Lionblaze trapped it under his paw and killed it with a bite to the back of the neck.
“I’ve got one, too!” Dovepaw announced, trotting up with a mouse in her jaws.
Lionblaze scraped earth over the fresh-kill. “The hunting is much better here,” he commented, pleased that they had found prey so quickly. “I suppose it’s because the water is so near.”
It didn’t take much longer for him to catch a squirrel and Dovepaw to track down a couple more mice.
“I never knew hunting could be this easy,” she mumbled around her mouthful of fresh-kill as they carried the prey back to the stream.
Lionblaze realized that Dovepaw had still been a kit when the drought began. She’d never known what it was like to hunt when there was plenty of prey. “It’ll be like this in the forest once we bring the water back,” he promised.
Back in the undergrowth above the pool, they found that the other cats had all hunted well, and for once the patrol was full-fed when they settled down to sleep until nightfall.
“I’ll keep watch,” Dovepaw offered. Her eyes were wide and her whiskers quivered.
“No, you need to rest,” Lionblaze told her. “I’ll keep watch.”
“But I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Dovepaw protested in a whisper, glancing at the rest of the patrol to make sure they couldn’t overhear. “I can still hear the beavers, gnawing and scraping….”
“Then block your senses like you did before,” Lionblaze told her. “We know the beavers are here now, so we don’t need you to be on the alert all the time.” When she still looked unconvinced, he bent his head and
gave her ear an approving lick. “You’ve done well, Dovepaw. You were right! The stream has been blocked by brown animals—and we can do something about that. When we defeat the beavers and release the water, the Clans will owe everything to you.”
Dovepaw sighed. “I hope that’s going to happen.” Without arguing anymore she curled up; after a few moments Lionblaze realized she was asleep.
Wind ruffled the surface of the pool, sending clouds scudding across the waning moon. The woods were dappled with light and shadow as the patrol crept down to the water’s edge.
Lionblaze halted at the edge of the pool; the dam looked even bigger and more threatening in the darkness, blotting out the stars behind the topmost logs. His belly churned. StarClan, are you with us now? Do you even walk these skies? He scanned the bank carefully in both directions and tasted the air, but he could see nothing moving, and the beaver scent clinging to everything was no help in telling him whether the beavers themselves were anywhere around. With any luck, they’re all asleep in that mudpile upstream.
“Right,” he whispered as the other cats gathered around him. “Dovepaw and I will cross the stream with Whitetail and Sedgewhisker. The rest of you stay on this side.”
Toadfoot gave him a curt nod.
“We climb up onto the dam and pull the logs down,” Lionblaze went on. “If the beavers try to stop us, we fight.”
“Yes!” Tigerheart hissed, his eyes gleaming pale in the moonlight.
“Okay, let’s go,” Lionblaze mewed. He padded down to the bottom of the dry streambed and up the other side, with half of the patrol following closely. Now that the waiting was over, his worries had faded, replaced by a hard resolution. This is the night when we get our water back!
Once across the stream, Whitetail let out a yowl. It was answered by another yowl from Toadfoot on the far bank.
“Now!” Lionblaze growled.
He bounded down the slope and sprang onto the dam. A heartbeat later his paws skidded from under him and he slithered halfway down the pile of logs, barely saving himself from falling into the pool. Beside him, Dovepaw had slipped down to a lower branch; Lionblaze leaned over, grabbed her scruff, and hauled her up again.