by Erin Hunter
Dovewing bounded up to him, with Tigerheart just behind her, while Molewhisker headed toward the tumbled rocks, meowing, “I’ll fetch Bramblestar!” as he went.
“Just tell me,” Alderheart begged. “I can’t wait for Bramblestar. Is she dead?”
Dovewing’s green eyes were full of sorrow, which told Alderheart the news that he didn’t want to hear. “Bramblestar ought to hear this first,” she murmured.
“Please!” Alderheart raked the ground with his claws. “It’s like a fox is tearing me apart.”
Dovewing bent her head. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was so soft that Alderheart could scarcely hear her. “We think that Twigpaw is probably dead.”
As she spoke the words, Alderheart felt something break inside him, like a snapped branch in the frost of leaf-bare. For a moment he couldn’t speak; at last he forced out two words in a hoarse voice. “What happened?”
“We don’t know for sure,” Dovewing replied, her head drooping sadly. “But we found her blood and fur beside the Thunderpath, near the tunnel where she was born.”
“Are you sure it was her blood?” Alderheart asked, desperately trying to hold on to hope.
Tigerheart nodded. “The scent was faint, but it was Twigpaw’s. It looks like she died just as her mother did . . . hit by a monster.”
Alderheart’s legs felt like they were turning to water; he staggered and slumped to the ground. At the same moment, Molewhisker returned with Bramblestar, deep concern in the Clan leader’s face as he strode up to them.
Ivypool bounded over from the fresh-kill pile, and more cats began to gather around, all of them eager for the news.
But Alderheart could hardly bear to listen as Bramblestar began to question the returning patrol. His heart had sunk right down into his paws.
Twigpaw was so young, he thought. I can’t believe she’ll never follow me around anymore, or run up and tease me. I can’t believe she’s really gone.
As he looked up, struggling to push aside his misery, he realized that even more cats were clustering around Bramblestar, listening to Dovewing in horrified silence.
“We searched the area,” the gray she-cat meowed. “We even crossed underneath the Thunderpath by the tunnel and tried to pick up her trail on the other side, but there were no signs of her.” Her voice broke. “There was nothing more we could do.”
“This is all my fault!” Ivypool exclaimed with a lash of her tail. “I feel so guilty.”
Bramblestar stretched out his neck to touch the silver-and-white warrior’s shoulder with his nose. “You have nothing to feel guilty about,” he assured her.
“Oh, but I do!” Ivypool insisted, her blue eyes dark with grief. “I was her mentor, and I knew how much she wanted to go and look for SkyClan, but I tried to talk her out of it . . . for stupid reasons, really,” she added with a glance at her sister, Dovewing.
Dovewing looked up, her whiskers twitching in surprise, while Tigerheart curled his tail protectively around her shoulders. Alderheart saw something flash in Ivypool’s eyes, but he had no interest just then in whatever was going on with the three of them.
“I’m the one who should be feeling guilty,” he confessed. “I also knew how much Twigpaw wanted to go and find her kin, and I knew she’d been upset. Maybe I could have caught up with her if I’d tried to follow her right away.” He hunched his shoulders under the burden of his regret. “I was even going to look for her, and then . . .”
“And then what?” Bramblestar prompted, as Alderheart’s voice cracked and he broke off.
“And then Purdy died, and I forgot,” Alderheart admitted.
Bramblestar took a pace forward and nuzzled his son’s neck fur. “We will all miss Twigpaw greatly,” he meowed. “Her loss is a tragedy. But you can’t blame yourself, Alderheart.”
I know he’s right, Alderheart thought, but I can’t help it. I forgot about Twigpaw, and now she’s dead. . . .
Stars glittered in a clear indigo sky as ThunderClan gathered to sit vigil for Twigpaw, forming a ragged circle in the middle of the camp. Even though they had no body, the Clan could honor the apprentice and send her spirit out on its journey to StarClan.
Alderheart found it strangely comforting to crouch there in the darkness, with Sparkpelt at his side, silently supportive, and listen to one cat after another offering their memories of Twigpaw. But at the same time there was a weird feeling in the camp, perhaps because of the presence of the ShadowClan and RiverClan cats. They had formed an outer circle, listening politely to the ThunderClan ceremony. But Alderheart knew that they couldn’t share in his Clanmates’ grief for Twigpaw; they had hardly known her.
The last few days have been so confusing, he thought, I don’t suppose many of the others even realized that Twigpaw was gone.
Ivypool was on her paws now, speaking about when Twigpaw had first become her apprentice, and how she had taken her for her first tour of the territory. “She was so excited, so eager to learn,” she mewed. “She would have made a fine warrior.”
Dipping her head to Bramblestar, she sat down again and curled her tail around her front paws.
“Thank you, Ivypool,” Bramblestar murmured. “Alderheart,” he added, turning to his son with amber eyes that gleamed in the starlight, “would you like to say a few words?”
Alderheart stumbled to his paws, but for a moment he had no idea what to say. When Twigpaw and Violetpaw arrived, he remembered, many of us were convinced that they were ‘what you find in the shadows’ from the prophecy. I believed it myself . . . but now I’m not so sure. And I don’t want to start that argument again—not right now.
As he hesitated, Sparkpelt gave him a gentle nudge in the side, her gaze warm and encouraging. “You can do this,” she whispered.
Suddenly Alderheart found that he could. “Like Ivypool said, she was eager to learn,” he stammered. “She was . . . she was lively, and she loved life. She felt things so . . . so deeply.” At last he came up with the one thing he was sure of, and the only thing that mattered now. “Twigpaw was . . . She was my friend.”
Feeling breathless, with no more words, he sat down heavily at his sister’s side.
Light-headed after his sleepless night, Alderheart turned to his tasks in the medicine cats’ den, hoping that work would help him to push away his grief and guilt. He was helping Briarlight with her exercises, tossing a ball of moss for her to catch, when he heard yowls of outrage coming from the camp outside.
Oh, no! he thought, pausing with the moss ball in his claws. What now?
“Go on,” Briarlight urged him. “Go find out what’s happening—and then come back and tell me about it.”
Alderheart brushed past the bramble screen and emerged into the camp to see the dawn patrol padding across the stone hollow from the thorn tunnel. Lionblaze, in the lead, was limping, while blood was trickling from a scratch on Berrynose’s shoulder, and Rosepetal had lost a lump of fur on her side. All three of them were bristling with fury.
“Bramblestar!” Lionblaze yowled, gazing up at the Highledge. “We need to report!”
The Clan leader stuck his head out of his den, took one look at the ragged patrol, and raced down the tumbled rocks to speak with them. Squirrelflight spotted them from where she stood with Cloudtail and Brightheart beside the fresh-kill pile; Alderheart heard her let out a shocked meow as she bounded over to her Clan leader’s side. Brightheart and Cloudtail ran after her, and more of the Clan emerged from their dens and gathered around the patrol, shooting anxious questions at them.
“What happened?”
“Was it the rogues?”
Alderheart noticed that Rowanstar and Mistystar had also slipped out of the warriors’ den and drawn closer with a few of their own warriors around them. They said nothing, but their eyes were watchful.
Jayfeather pushed his way through the crowd and began sniffing at Berrynose’s wound. “Give me some space,” he snapped. “These cats need treatment.”
“All in good time,�
� Bramblestar responded, waving his tail to keep the rest of the cats back. “First we need to know what happened.”
“We ran into some rogues at the ShadowClan border,” Rosepetal began.
Bramblestar closed his eyes briefly. “Please tell me you didn’t cross,” he mewed.
“We didn’t!” Berrynose exclaimed. “But those mange-pelts crossed into our territory and attacked us.”
A murmur of indignation rose from the cats who now surrounded the patrol. Cloudtail drew his lips back in a snarl and clawed at the ground in front of him.
“They drove us off.” Lionblaze’s tail-tip was twitching furiously; Alderheart could understand the magnificent warrior’s anger at having been defeated by a bunch of rogues.
“Because we were way outnumbered,” Berrynose added. “But we did give them something to remember us by.” He swiped his tongue around his jaws as if he had tasted a particularly juicy piece of fresh-kill.
“One of them—I think it was Nettle—yowled at us,” Rosepetal meowed. “He told us that the rogues are coming for ThunderClan next. He said, ‘It’s only a matter of time.’”
“Of course it’s only a matter of time.” Rowanstar shouldered his way into the center of the circle that surrounded the patrol. “Until we drive off these rogues, we’re all in danger! How long can we go on like this?”
“You’re a fine one to talk!” Mistystar slipped up to Rowanstar’s side and glared at him, her blue eyes like splinters of ice. “This is all happening because you couldn’t manage to drive the rogues out of ShadowClan territory when they first arrived. Now they’ve not only taken over your Clan, but RiverClan as well! It’s your fault that we’re in this position, and I’m not about to risk the lives of my injured cats just to repair your pride!”
Rowanstar returned glare for glare, his neck fur bristling as he slid out his claws. “The rogues are a problem for all of us,” he hissed. “That should be obvious now.”
For a moment, the two Clan leaders stood nose to nose, their stiff limbs and fluffed-up fur making Alderheart afraid that they were about to attack each other. What hope do we have, if we fight among ourselves?
But before either of the cats could lash out, Bramblestar thrust his way between them. His amber eyes were burning with frustration. “That’s enough!” he snapped. “Things are difficult for every cat. Do you think it will help your warriors to see their leaders scrapping like kits?”
Breathing heavily, Rowanstar took a pace backward. “I don’t want a fight,” he stated, clearly struggling to be calm. “I’m only saying—again—that we have to do something. Quickly.”
Bramblestar nodded. “I agree with you, but it’s not as simple as attacking the rogues outright. Remember, we tried that once—it didn’t go well.”
Bramblestar gave Rowanstar a hard look, and Rowanstar’s lips pulled back in a snarl. But Bramblestar went on before the ShadowClan leader could argue. “Besides, it’s not just that attacking now would put the RiverClan cats at risk”—he dipped his head briefly to Mistystar—“but that even though we still outnumber the rogues, it’s by a smaller margin. We can’t count on WindClan’s help. The RiverClan warriors are still recovering from their injuries; they are nowhere near ready to take on another battle. And Darktail is a vicious cat. Even if we could kill him and defeat his followers, we would shed too much blood in doing so. Besides, the rogues now hold two territories. If we retake one, they can always retreat to the other.”
In the midst of his anxieties, Alderheart felt warm with pride as he listened to his father’s measured, reasonable words. Mistystar was nodding her agreement, and even Rowanstar seemed to relax, his neck fur lying flat again.
“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” he mewed reluctantly. Then Rowanstar shook his head helplessly. “Why would Onestar allow the other Clans to just wither?” he murmured. “Why would he not fight to keep our way of life alive?”
No cat had an answer to that. Even Bramblestar responded with nothing but a sigh.
While Alderheart and Jayfeather took a closer look at the patrol’s injuries, the ThunderClan leader climbed back up the tumbled rocks and raised his voice to address the Clan from the Highledge.
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a meeting of the Clans!”
Most of the warriors were already out in the clearing. Alderheart spotted Briarlight dragging herself to the entrance of the medicine cats’ den, while Daisy and Leafpool emerged from the nursery, where they were caring for some of the injured RiverClan warriors.
“We need a plan,” Bramblestar began, when all the cats were settled in the clearing, looking up at the Highledge. “The rogues have surprised us again by attacking RiverClan, and Rowanstar is right that we can’t go on like this. I know that we’re overcrowded here, and every cat is uncomfortable and tense. But there are many reasons why we can’t mount an attack on the rogues right now. If any cat has an idea of what we might do instead, I’d be happy to hear it.”
For a moment no cat responded. Alderheart spotted many of his Clanmates looking blankly at each other. Then he heard Lionblaze clear his throat as the golden tabby warrior rose to his paws.
“Yesterday, Cinderheart and I found out that we’re expecting our second litter of kits,” Lionblaze meowed, his eyes shining proudly.
Alderheart remembered how excited Leafpool had been the day before when she’d given Lionblaze and Cinderheart the news. But when he glanced over at her now, he saw that her expression was somber. The rest of his Clanmates erupted into yowls of congratulation, but the happy sounds quickly died away and an awkward silence fell.
Every cat has realized just how terrible a time this is to bring kits into the world, Alderheart thought.
“I can’t have my kits born when every moment we’re expecting to be driven out of our territory,” Lionblaze continued fervently, as if he had read Alderheart’s mind. “Will the Clans even be here by then? For the first time, it seems possible that they won’t.”
Cinderheart padded quietly up to her mate’s side and rested her tail on his shoulder. “What will happen to our kits?” she mewed, looking up at Bramblestar. “What will happen to all of us, if there are no Clans anymore?”
“That . . . that can’t happen!” Mousewhisker exclaimed.
“That’s right,” Poppyfrost agreed with a shudder. “There have always been Clans.”
Lionblaze shook his head. “Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away,” he stated. “Remember the prophecy: ‘Embrace what you find in the shadows, for only they can clear the sky.’ We’re no closer to finding out what it means than we were moons ago.”
“We’ve had other things on our minds!” Cloudtail snapped.
Lionblaze dipped his head to the senior warrior. “True, but it seems obvious now that the sky has darkened for all of the Clans. If we don’t put our heads together and find a way to clear it, we could lose everything.” He lashed his tail. “Everything!”
Alderheart felt a chill pass through him from ears to tail-tip. No cat had spoken so boldly before about what might happen if the Clan cats failed to drive away the rogues. We need to find SkyClan and bring them back, Alderheart thought. I’m sure that would clear the sky! But there’s no way to make that happen right now.
He could feel the tension in the air as his Clanmates shifted uneasily, and from somewhere in the crowd a cat let out a whimper of fear.
The horrified silence seemed to stretch out for moons, until suddenly Mistystar spoke.
“We need time for the RiverClan cats to heal,” she meowed. “We can’t attack until they’re fit to fight. But it troubles me to leave our cats as prisoners for so long.”
The crowd grew quiet again, until suddenly Sparkpelt cocked her head and said, “I know! Why don’t we see if we can come up with a way to sneak the RiverClan prisoners out, one or two at a time?”
“And how would we even do that?” Berrynose asked with a disdainful sniff. “The rogues mu
st be guarding them pretty carefully. Besides, I heard a rumor that some medicine cats tried to enter the RiverClan camp, and got sent away with a flea in their ear.”
As he spoke, Alderheart was aware of Bramblestar turning a hard stare on him; refusing to meet his father’s gaze, he studied his paws until he realized with relief that Bramblestar wasn’t going to say anything.
Sparkpelt whipped her head around to face Berrynose. “So what’s your plan, O wise one?” she demanded.
Berrynose shrugged and gave his chest fur a lick.
Before Sparkpelt could say any more, Mothwing rose to her paws and came to stand beside her. “It would be wonderful to rescue our Clanmates,” she mewed, “but we would need a cat on the inside to help us.”
She glanced across at Alderheart; when he caught the meaningful look in her eyes, he realized she was remembering their visit to the RiverClan camp, when Violetpaw and Needletail had taken them to Puddleshine.
It seemed like Needletail was trying to help us.
“Does any cat here know one of the cats in the rogue camp?” Mothwing asked. “I mean, know them well enough to trust them with a plan?”
Rowanstar let out an annoyed huff. “Obviously, there are ShadowClan cats there,” he replied, “but who knows where their loyalties lie now?” He glanced over at Juniperclaw and Strikestone, both of whom looked uncomfortable.
“It’s hard to say,” Juniperclaw said, not meeting Rowanstar’s gaze.
“I know a couple,” Alderheart added quietly, still remembering his visit with Mothwing. “But I can’t be sure that they would help us.”
Up on the Highledge, Bramblestar was looking thoughtful. “I think we ought to consider this carefully,” he meowed at last. “Let’s sleep on it. It’s important to be sure, because we don’t want to give away our plan to a cat we can’t trust.”
As the meeting drew to an end, the crowd of cats broke up into little huddles, anxiously discussing what they should do. Alderheart followed Jayfeather and the injured patrol back to the medicine cats’ den. He could still picture Needletail’s terrified face as he and Mothwing left the RiverClan camp.