Lost Stars

Chapter 7

Wind drove the clouds across the night sky, so that the waxing half-moon shed only a fitful light through the gaps. Puddleshine and Shadowpaw huddled together as they trudged forward against the blast, trying to preserve every scrap of warmth in their pelts. Shadowpaw narrowed his eyes against the harsh wind whipping into his face, and snuffed up the scent of more snow to come.

I hope we’ll be able to share dreams with StarClan this time, he thought worriedly. That would prove I’m not keeping them away.

Since the last half-moon meeting at the Moonpool, life in ShadowClan had gotten even tougher. There was never enough prey; cats were getting sick because of the cold and lack of food, and every cat’s nerves were on edge. Sooner or later, Shadowpaw knew, fights between Clanmates would become the norm.

We need StarClan to guide us, even if all they can do is promise us that this terrible leaf-bare will end soon.

The other medicine cats were already huddling for warmth by the Moonpool when Puddleshine and Shadowpaw stumbled down the spiral path.

“Greetings,” Mothwing meowed, dipping her head gracefully. “I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you outside, it’s just so cold. How is the prey running in ShadowClan?”

“It’s not running at all,” Puddleshine replied with an edge of bitterness to his tone. “I think every mouse and vole in the territory is tucked up in its hole, sniggering at us.”

“ThunderClan is just as bad,” Alderheart agreed, while Jayfeather simply lashed his tail once and did not speak.

“At least you have shelter from the trees,” Kestrelflight pointed out. “Up on the moor, the wind is strong enough to blow cats off their paws. I had to set Larkwing’s dislocated shoulder when she lost her balance and fell down into a gully.”

“And RiverClan can’t fish when the lake is frozen,” Willowshine added. “I’ve almost forgotten what fish tastes like!”

Shadowpaw saw that Frecklewish and Fidgetflake from SkyClan were looking faintly embarrassed. “I know we have it easier,” Frecklewish admitted. “The valley shelters our territory, so while prey is scarce, we’re clearly not suffering as badly as the rest of you.” She cleared her throat. “If we could help you, we would.”

Puddleshine let out a snort. “SkyClan’s most sheltered area used to be in our territory,” he grumbled, his voice low but loud enough to be heard by the SkyClan cats, who stared at their paws and didn’t respond. “We’d be in better shape now if we hadn’t given it away.”

Any more complaints that the medicine cats might have made were silenced by Jayfeather, who glared around from his sightless blue eyes. “If you’re quite finished,” he snapped, “perhaps we could make contact with StarClan. That is why we’re here, yes?”

Exchanging anxious murmurs, every cat began to move toward the edge of the Moonpool. Oh, StarClan, please don’t leave us alone, Shadowpaw prayed desperately. We need you so much!

He hadn’t looked at the Moonpool until now, and when he did, he let out a gasp of mingled shock and awe. The stream that fed the pool was frozen into a cascade of icicles that glittered when the uncertain moonlight fell upon them. The whole surface of the pool was frozen, too.

“I’m sure this has never happened before,” Mothwing mewed, blinking unhappily at the sheet of solid ice. “Not even in that dreadful leaf-bare when Flametail died.”

With the rest of the medicine cats, Shadowpaw stretched out his neck and bent his head to touch his nose to the ice. Cold stabbed through him like a thorn. He closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he was still crouching in the icy darkness beside the pool. He hadn’t been transported to the warm territory of StarClan, and there was no sign that the warriors of StarClan were trying to reach them here. Raising his head to gaze around, Shadowpaw couldn’t even see the hazy shapes that had appeared at the previous meeting, or hear their distant voices.

“Oh, StarClan, where are you?” Frecklewish exclaimed, her voice shaking as she echoed Shadowpaw’s silent prayer. “Please come to us—we need you!”

Mothwing moved back from the pool and sat with her forepaws neatly together, her amber eyes gleaming. “We can cope,” she assured Frecklewish kindly. “We don’t need guidance from StarClan when we still have our common sense. We’ll get through this.”

Jayfeather scowled at her. “What a surprise that you’re not worried,” he muttered bitterly.

“What does that mean?” Mothwing asked, her eyes wide.

“It means that you’ve never believed in StarClan, so it’s no loss to you,” Jayfeather hissed.

Shadowpaw stared at the ThunderClan medicine cat as gasps of surprise rippled through the others. Puddleshine had told Shadowpaw that the RiverClan medicine cat didn’t believe in StarClan, but it had never been spoken of during a half-moon meeting.

“The rest of us know how important this is. How alone we are.” Jayfeather’s voice trembled with emotion, and his sightless eyes flashed with anger and fear.

Mothwing shifted her paws, looking down at the ground, then back at Jayfeather. “Not that you asked,” she meowed evenly, “but with time to reflect on what happened in the Great Battle, and everything that happened with Darktail and the cats we lost . . . I no longer deny that StarClan exists.”

“What?” Kestrelflight demanded, lashing his tail as he turned to face Mothwing.

“You’re serious?” Jayfeather asked.

Shadowpaw shifted nervously on his paws. He’d heard from Puddleshine that Mothwing’s lack of belief was a source of conflict between her and some of the medicine cats.

Mothwing drew herself up straight. “Let me finish,” she said. “I believe StarClan exists, but I don’t know that their intentions are good, or that we always benefit from their ‘guidance,’” she said.

“How can you say that?” Alderheart asked. “Their advice about SkyClan returning—”

“Led to Darktail’s reign,” Mothwing interrupted. “And how many cats died?”

Jayfeather huffed. “How many more would have died, if they hadn’t warned us?”

Mothwing shook her head. “That’s neither here nor there,” she meowed calmly. “We’ll never know. Anyway, every cat can believe what he or she wants. I just think we don’t need to panic.”

Shadowpaw couldn’t agree with her, and from the worried looks the other medicine cats were exchanging, he could see that they shared his uncertainty.

We don’t just have to worry about the cold and the shortage of prey, he thought. The real problem is why StarClan isn’t coming to meet with us. They’ve sent me visions, so it can’t be me. . . . Have the Clans made them angry somehow?

“Does this mean that the Moonpool is just a sheet of ice?” he asked. “Isn’t it a special place anymore?”

Willowshine reached out her tail and touched him lightly on his shoulder. “It won’t last,” she promised. “Often in leaf-bare the water near RiverClan territory freezes up, but the ice melts again as soon as the weather turns warmer.”

“But usually it’s only the edges of the pool that freeze,” Mothwing pointed out. “Never the whole thing. It’s never been as cold as this before.”

Alderheart shook his head sadly. “I’ve got a horrible feeling,” he mewed, “that nothing we remember can prepare us for whatever is going on here. I just don’t understand it. We know that when Squirrelflight spent time in StarClan’s hunting grounds, they told her we should draw closer to them. How can we, though, if they won’t speak with us?”

An ominous silence fell. Shadowpaw gazed at one worried face after another; a bud of fear began to swell inside him as he realized that none of these medicine cats—the cats he respected and looked up to above all others—had any idea why they were suddenly cut off from StarClan. And my visions aren’t exactly normal, he thought with shame. What if there is something about me . . . something that keeps them from contacting the medicine cats through the Moonpool?

“Let’s try again,” Kestrelflight suggested after a few heartbeats; it was clear he was striving desperately to sound optimistic.

“Like that will be any use,” Jayfeather growled, but no other cat objected, and finally even Jayfeather stooped to touch his nose once more to the ice that covered the pool.

But Jayfeather had been right. No starry cats appeared. It was almost as if the Moonpool had never been a special place . . . as if StarClan had never visited.

“Well, it’s not as if StarClan appears to us every time,” Kestrelflight meowed when every cat had moved back from the water.

Jayfeather glared sightlessly at the WindClan cat, his whiskers quivering. “Don’t be more mouse-brained than you can help,” he snarled. “We all know something is going on. We can all feel it.”

Shadowpaw swallowed hard. He glanced at Puddleshine, hoping that his mentor could think of some reason to argue with Jayfeather’s terrifying words. But Puddleshine merely stared at his paws, and none of the other medicine cats found anything to say.

It was Kestrelflight who broke the silence. “We might as well end the meeting,” he meowed. “It’s obvious nothing is going to happen tonight. Perhaps we’ll have better luck next time—surely the weather will have warmed up by then.”

Every cat murmured agreement. Shadowpaw thought that they were all relieved to be leaving that place, where they had once received wisdom from the spirits of their warrior ancestors, and now were met with only cold and silence.

When the other cats had headed off to their own camps, Puddleshine and Shadowpaw padded silently alongside the lake and crossed the border into ShadowClan territory. Shadowpaw felt worry like a dark cloud enveloping him and guessed that his mentor felt the same. The cold had grown even more intense, making his bones ache. The wind had dropped; a thick layer of cloud covered the sky, cutting off the moonlight and the glitter of the stars.

That has to be a bad omen, Shadowpaw thought.

Snow had begun to fall again, growing heavier and heavier until their fur was covered with it, and they slipped and stumbled into hidden dips in the ground. They were still some distance from the camp when thunder rolled out overhead, splitting the silence of the night. Fear gripped Shadowpaw, and he flattened himself to the ground; even Puddleshine flinched.

“Surely there can’t be thunder and snow at the same time?” Shadowpaw asked as the sound died away.

“It happens sometimes,” Puddleshine responded, casting an uneasy glance upward. “But if I’m being honest, this is all starting to feel bad. . . .”

Shadowpaw shuddered. It was feeling bad to him, too. But worse than the ominous feeling he had was the worry about what could be behind it.

What if it is me?

Shadowpaw sat abruptly upright, shaking off the moss and bracken from his nest in the medicine cats’ den. He was certain that some cat had called his name, though he could see the curve of Puddleshine’s back, half buried in his bedding, and hear his mentor’s gentle snores. Grassheart too was still deeply asleep in her nest.

“Who’s there?” Shadowpaw called out softly.

There was no reply. Shadowpaw began to feel pressure building inside his head, as if he were about to have another seizure. Blinking, he took several deep breaths, trying to ride out the sensation and stay conscious.

Gradually the pressure resolved itself into an urgent command. You have to go back to the Moonpool.

Shadowpaw flinched. The voice in his head was as clear as if Grassheart had woken and called to him . . . but he knew this was no living cat. “Why?” he whispered, though he didn’t expect an explanation.

He wondered if he ought to wake Puddleshine and tell him what was going on, but as soon as the thought occurred to him, he felt a strong conviction—almost like an order—that he should not.

This is a journey you have to take alone.

A spark of hope lit within Shadowpaw. I know this is StarClan. And if StarClan is reaching out to me, it must not be me they have problems with. Maybe he could be a normal medicine cat after all—a medicine cat who received visions from StarClan and used them to help guide all the Clans. Gathering all his courage, he rose to his paws.

As soon as he ventured outside his den, Shadowpaw spotted Stonewing crouching on guard beside the entrance to the camp. The snow was falling more lightly now and the clouds had begun to break up; the tom’s pale pelt glimmered in the starshine.

“I’ll never get past him if I go that way,” Shadowpaw muttered to himself.

Instead he wriggled through the dirtplace tunnel, and once out in the open he crawled forward with his belly fur brushing the snow until he was well clear of the camp. Then he strode out into the forest, heading for the hills and the frozen Moonpool.

Shadowpaw stumbled with exhaustion as he made his way down the spiral path to the hollow where the Moonpool lay. The journey from ShadowClan territory seemed to have taken twice as long as usual, and he guessed that dawn couldn’t be far away.

Fresh snow had fallen on the frozen pool since Shadowpaw’s earlier visit; he brushed it away with one forepaw, enough to clear a space of ice where he could lean forward and touch his nose to the surface. He still had no idea why he had been called here.

Is StarClan trying to reach me? Then why don’t they appear?

Straightening up again, he looked around, but nothing disturbed the frosty silence of the night. Convulsive shivers shook him; his head felt oddly full and heavy, and a feeling of dread ran through his whole body. He couldn’t remember ever having been so tired and cold.

Maybe it was a mistake to come here, he told himself wretchedly. But I was so sure.

Overhead, another rumble of thunder interrupted his thoughts. Shadowpaw flinched, looking up, but all he could see was the whirling snow.

Who was I kidding? I’ll never be a normal medicine cat. All I get are weird seizure visions that make everybody uncomfortable. I’m not sure I can make it back to camp, alone, in this weather. I must have had bees in my brain to come here.

While he still gazed upward, white light flashed out from the clouds, blazing down on the surface of the Moonpool; it was so brilliant that for a few heartbeats Shadowpaw was blinded. When his vision cleared, he glanced around to see faint flares of light in the night sky as lightning crackled in the distance. Thunder rolled again, the noise building and building until it seemed as if the whole world would split apart.

Shadowpaw crouched, terrified, under the onslaught. “But what does it all mean?” he yowled.

The only answer was another flash of lightning, brighter and closer than before. Everything went black, and with a last whimper of terror, he sank into its softness and knew nothing more.

Pain throbbed in Shadowpaw’s head as he regained consciousness, and he felt as though every muscle in his body, every hair on his pelt, was aching. His vision swam as he struggled to sit up.

Was I struck by lightning? he wondered dazedly.

He could hardly believe it, and yet all around him the snow was melted, showing blackened earth. There were spiky patches on his pelt, prickling his pad when he touched one of them.

As he gradually recovered, Shadowpaw became aware of a voice inside his head. There was no sign of where it was coming from, no star-furred cats approaching him or waiting for him in a sunny clearing. Only the voice, which he realized had been speaking for some time, always repeating the same words.

There is a darkness in the Clans that must be driven out.

Shadowpaw’s pain and exhaustion were swallowed up in panic. Scrambling away from the Moonpool, he tottered up the path to the line of bushes that guarded the hollow. He skidded down the rocky slope on the far side, half jumping and half falling, as if he could outrun the ominous voice.

But there was no escape. The voice went on repeating the same words, over and over. There is a darkness in the Clans that must be driven out. A darkness in the Clans . . .