Lost Stars

Chapter 9

Bristlepaw flexed her paws to bring feeling back into them as she paused in the snow, surveying the moonlit trees and letting her mentor’s instructions run through her mind. Wind direction . . . uneven ground . . . focus . . . This time I’ll catch something for sure!

Tasting the air, she crept forward, setting each paw down as lightly as a falling leaf, and keeping her tail tucked in to her side. Her ears were pricked to pick up the least sound of prey, but long moments dragged by, and still there was nothing.

Flexing her claws, Bristlepaw couldn’t help letting out a growl of exasperation. “I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong!”

Her mentor, Rosepetal, padded up behind her and briefly rested her tail-tip on Bristlepaw’s shoulder. “You’re not doing anything wrong,” she explained patiently. “Every cat is having trouble hunting.”

“But it’s been nearly half a moon since I failed my assessment,” Bristlepaw protested miserably. “And since then I haven’t caught any prey. I’m not helping my Clan at all!”

“But it’s not your fault,” Rosepetal reassured her. “I promise you, you’re doing everything right. You’re just having very bad luck in a very bad leaf-bare.”

Bristlepaw heaved a deep sigh. “I guess I’ll just keep trying.”

“No, that’s enough for today,” Rosepetal responded. “It’s getting late; we should be heading back to camp.”

Bristlepaw opened her jaws to argue, then realized that her mentor was right. The scarlet light of sunset had faded. Starlight glittered on the snow-covered ground, except where trees and undergrowth cast patches of deep shade. There would be no more hunting until tomorrow. Reluctantly Bristlepaw nodded; her head and tail drooped as she followed Rosepetal back to the stone hollow.

As Bristlepaw emerged from the thorn tunnel into the clearing, she spotted Thriftpaw and Flippaw bounding across the camp toward her.

“Hey, guess what?” Flippaw yowled as he halted in front of her, panting with excitement. “Thriftpaw caught two mice! Two!”

“It was just luck,” Thriftpaw meowed. Her eyes shone as she tried and failed to hide how proud she was. “And Flippaw nearly caught a vole.”

“I was mouse-brained,” Flippaw confessed. “I messed up my pounce. Hollytuft got it, though.”

“That’s great,” Bristlepaw responded. She wanted to be excited for Thriftpaw, but a weight of misery was gathering in her belly. Obviously there’s prey out there, she thought. How come Thriftpaw can catch it and I can’t?

Heading farther into the camp, with Thriftpaw and Flippaw close behind her, Bristlepaw spotted Bramblestar and the Clan deputy, Squirrelflight, with their heads close together, deep in conversation with the two medicine cats. Curious, Bristlepaw drifted nearer so that she could overhear what they were saying.

“Every Clan is having the same problems?” Bramblestar asked, his amber eyes dark with worry. “No cat can make contact with StarClan?”

“That’s right,” Jayfeather replied. “We haven’t met with StarClan at the last two half-moon meetings. And as far as I know, they haven’t sent dreams or visions to any cat.”

“It’ll be a disaster if we’re cut off from our ancestors for long,” Alderheart added. “What if we don’t follow the right path? What if we mess up our own destinies?”

Bristlepaw was glad to think about something other than Thriftpaw’s hunting success. “Huh!” she muttered, turning to her littermates with a dismissive flick of her tail. “ThunderClan ought to be more worried about the shortage of prey, not whether we can talk to some dead cats in the sky.”

Thriftpaw and Flippaw both let out purrs of amusement at their sister’s daring. But their purrs broke off a moment later and their eyes widened as they gazed at something behind Bristlepaw.

“What?” she asked.

A voice, icy as the leaf-bare wind, cut across the single word. “What kind of stupid furball are you?”

Bristlepaw spun around to see Jayfeather glaring at her from sightless blue eyes. Alderheart, Squirrelflight, and Bramblestar stood beside him. Bristlepaw flinched, taking a pace back. She hadn’t meant any cat to hear her, except for her denmates. It would have to be Jayfeather! He’s the scariest cat in the forest! And Bramblestar . . . I said something stupid in front of my Clan leader! “I . . . uh . . . didn’t mean—” she began.

“You have no more sense than a kit before its eyes open,” Jayfeather snarled. “StarClan holds all the Clans together. If they desert us, we’re nothing but rogues. Clearly you’re too young and stupid to understand what that means, but an older, wiser cat would know that separation from StarClan is the biggest problem we could have to face.”

Bristlepaw glanced around to see that more of her Clanmates had gathered around, gazing at her with worried eyes. She wanted to shrink into a tiny little bug that could hide itself under a twig.

“I’m really sorry—”

“‘Sorry’ fills no bellies,” Jayfeather snapped. “If I were your mentor, I’d confine you to camp for the next six moons, and the only training you’d get would be how to shift the elders’ ticks!”

While he was speaking, Bramblestar stepped forward, and he brushed his tail down Jayfeather’s side. “Calm down,” he meowed. “If we punished apprentices every time they said something foolish, we’d have no time for anything else. I’m sure Bristlepaw didn’t mean it.” As he spoke, he fixed Bristlepaw with his powerful amber gaze.

“N-no, I really didn’t,” Bristlepaw stammered. “I was just . . . I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s clear enough.” Jayfeather took a step back.

“We’re sorry, too,” Flippaw added, while Thriftpaw nodded eagerly.

Bramblestar inclined his head, accepting their apologies. “However,” he continued, “it’s clear that the three of you don’t know enough about StarClan. You’d better come with us to the Gathering tonight, and maybe you’ll learn more.”

As her Clan leader spoke, Bristlepaw felt a churning in her belly, a weird mix of shame at being scolded by her Clan leader and excitement at being chosen to accompany her Clanmates to a Gathering.

“Really?” Jayfeather twitched his whiskers in disgust. “It’s like you’re rewarding them!” He stalked off toward his den.

“Jayfeather has a point,” Bramblestar meowed, his gaze traveling over Bristlepaw and her littermates. “You’d better make sure that tonight you don’t put a single claw out of line.”

“Oh, we won’t!” Bristlepaw assured him fervently, while her brother and sister nodded in earnest agreement.

The frozen lake shone silver under the full moon as Bristlepaw, Thriftpaw, and Flippaw followed their Clan leader along the water’s edge toward the Gathering island. The snow had stopped, but the cold felt like huge claws gripping Bristlepaw’s body and striking up through her pads. She had never seen the forest looking so desolate, and the stars that glittered overhead seemed remote and uncaring. For the first time, she wondered why the warriors of StarClan might be refusing to communicate with the medicine cats.

Have we done something to make them angry?

But Bristlepaw’s fears receded as she and the rest of her Clan arrived beside the tree-bridge to cross to the island. WindClan’s cats were already picking their way along the tree trunk, and the mingled scents of the other Clans wafted from the bushes at the far side.

I wonder which cats I’ll meet tonight? Maybe Rootpaw, she added to herself. I hope he’s okay—and I hope the silly furball has had the sense to ignore the other SkyClan apprentices.

Crossing the tree-bridge felt weird. Bristlepaw had been to Gatherings before, and she was used to the way that the lake water would suck at the tree, making her feel that at any moment she would lose her balance and fall in. Tonight the water was frozen, and Bristlepaw guessed that they could have walked across to the island without using the tree.

Leaping down from the trunk at the other side, Bristlepaw raced up the shore and pushed her way through the bushes into the clearing where the Gathering took place. ThunderClan was the last to arrive, and the open space around the Great Oak was already crowded with cats. Bramblestar and Squirrelflight headed for the Great Oak; Squirrelflight took her place on the roots, while Bramblestar leaped into the branches and found a spot near Mistystar, the RiverClan leader. Jayfeather and Alderheart headed to join the other medicine cats.

Glancing around, Bristlepaw saw that her Clanmates were already mingling with cats from other Clans. She waved her tail to greet some young WindClan warriors she had met at previous Gatherings, but as she was making her way toward them, she was almost carried off her paws by a small yellow tom who thrust his way out of the crowd and bounced up to her.

“Hi, Bristlepaw!” he meowed.

“Rootpaw!” Bristlepaw exclaimed. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Rootpaw assured her. “And it’s all thanks to you! I’ll never forget how you saved my life. Did they give you your warrior name after that? I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have called you Bristlepaw.”

Bristlepaw winced; the comment stung, even though Rootpaw had no way of knowing about her failed assessment. And I’m not about to tell him. “No, I’m still Bristlepaw,” she told him.

“I went on this amazing hunt the other day,” Rootpaw chattered on, clearly unaware of how Bristlepaw was feeling. “I caught a huge crow, all by myself! Four of us shared it, and we still couldn’t finish it.”

Bristlepaw tried to force some enthusiasm into her reply. “That’s great.”

“I love hunting!” Rootpaw exclaimed, his eyes shining. “Don’t you love it, Bristlepaw?”

“I’d love it if there were anything to hunt,” Bristlepaw snapped. Of course I love hunting. I’m going to be a warrior, aren’t I? What a mouse-brained question!

Rootpaw didn’t seem bothered by her curt tone. “If you’re short of prey in ThunderClan, I could bring you some,” he offered.

Bristlepaw’s irritation flared into pure anger. Stretching out her neck, she hissed into Rootpaw’s face. “ThunderClan cats can catch their own prey, thank you very much!”

Rootpaw jerked backward, his eyes wide with distress. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to say you couldn’t.”

Bristlepaw instantly felt guilty when she saw how much she had upset the younger apprentice. She was trying to find the right words to apologize when the voice of Tigerstar rang out from the branches of the Great Oak.

“Cats of all Clans, it’s time for the Gathering to begin!”

Bristlepaw glanced up at his powerful tabby figure poised on a branch, and when she turned back again, she saw that Rootpaw wasn’t by her side any longer. She spotted him scurrying into a group of SkyClan cats, including the two apprentices who had been with him beside the lake.

It wasn’t my fault, she tried to tell herself, though she couldn’t wipe out her feelings of guilt. He shouldn’t have said something so mouse-brained. And he’s still hanging out with those two useless lumps of fur!

The sounds of talk in the clearing gradually died away as the cats settled down to listen to their Clan leaders, crowding into the shelter of the bushes where the ground was almost clear of snow.

“ShadowClan remains strong,” Tigerstar announced, “but I must admit we’ll all be glad when this leaf-bare is over.”

“RiverClan wishes the same,” Mistystar agreed, rising to her paws and giving her blue-gray pelt a shake. “The lake and the streams around our camp are frozen. It seems like moons since we’ve tasted fish.”

“WindClan has problems too,” Harestar added. “There’s so little shelter in our territory, all the prey has fled.”

“And yet you’re the Clans who got to keep all your territory when we rearranged the borders to make room for SkyClan,” Tigerstar pointed out, an edge to his voice. “If you’re not happy with it now—”

“You’re still complaining about the borders?” Crowfeather, the WindClan deputy, interrupted from his place on the oak roots. His tail twitched in exasperation. “We already fixed that for you!”

“You know perfectly well why we made that decision,” Mistystar added, glaring at Tigerstar from eyes like chips of blue ice. “And unless you can persuade the Twolegs to move the Twolegplace between RiverClan and ShadowClan or the horseplace on our border with WindClan, that’s the way it has to be.”

Tigerstar was obviously ready to make a furious retort when Bramblestar rose and took a pace forward. “That prey has been eaten,” he pointed out calmly, “and the new borders were working well for all the Clans until the weather turned so cold. That’s our problem, and that’s what we should be concentrating on.”

Tigerstar gave his shoulders an angry shrug, while Mistystar dipped her head in acknowledgment of what the ThunderClan leader had said. Bristlepaw felt a stab of pride. Her leader was so wise, to know what to say to prevent a useless quarrel.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” Harestar continued after a moment’s pause. “This is the worst leaf-bare any cat can remember, and the longest that cold weather like this has lasted.”

“And the longest that the medicine cats have gone without receiving messages from StarClan,” Jayfeather announced from where he sat with the other medicine cats. There was an ominous note in his voice that chilled Bristlepaw far more than the news of prey shortages.

She could see many of the older cats exchanging worried glances at Jayfeather’s words, making her realize even more clearly how serious the problem was.

That was such a mouse-brained thing I said, back in the camp!

“But surely that’s just a result of the cold and the Moonpool being frozen?” Mistystar meowed. “I’m confident that all we have to do is be patient and wait for the warmer weather.”

Leafstar flicked an ear, her expression tense. “We certainly hope so.”

Bristlepaw could see that Jayfeather wanted to object, but Harestar continued before he could get a word out.

“Maybe it’s time to share some good news, then,” he suggested. “WindClan has two new apprentices, Woodpaw and Applepaw.”

A chorus of caterwauling broke out in the clearing as the assembled cats called out the names of the new apprentices. Bristlepaw joined in, seeing the two young cats duck their heads in embarrassment, while their mother and father, Heathertail and Breezepelt, looked on proudly.

“RiverClan has good news, too,” Mistystar announced as the clamor died away. “Curlfeather has given birth to three healthy kits.”

Again Bristlepaw joined in the chorus of congratulation, though she could see a faint shadow of anxiety on Mistystar’s face, and she spotted a few of the RiverClan warriors exchanging worried glances.

This weather and the shortage of prey must be really tough for a mother cat and newborn kits in the nursery, Bristlepaw thought. Sparkpelt and Sorrelstripe probably feel the same . . . but I haven’t noticed, because I’ve been so focused on my own worries. A sharp claw of guilt pierced her as she realized how self-centered she had been, thinking only about how the harsh leaf-bare had spoiled her chances of becoming a warrior.

At last the noise died down again and Bramblestar turned to Leafstar. “How are things in SkyClan?” he asked.

Leafstar seemed reluctant as she rose to her paws, padding forward until her branch began to dip gently under her weight. “Life is hard in SkyClan,” she reported, “but perhaps not as hard as for the rest of you.” Her tone was hesitant, and Bristlepaw guessed she was aware that her news might spark resentment from the other Clans—especially from ShadowClan. “Our territory is in a sheltered valley,” the SkyClan leader went on, “and there are caves in the hills beside our top border, where we could withdraw if things get any worse.”

Bristlepaw could hear muttered comments from some of the warriors in the clearing below, and Tigerstar’s shoulder fur began to bristle as if he thought he was facing an enemy.

“How lucky for you,” he muttered.

Leafstar turned to him with a lash of her tail. “Let’s not start arguing about this again,” she mewed. “The new boundaries were agreed on by all the Clans, including ShadowClan.”

Tigerstar’s only reply was a snort as he sat down on his branch again.

“This is all very well,” Jayfeather began again, rising from where he was sitting beside Alderheart, “but none of it really matters. Why aren’t we talking about why we’ve lost our connection with StarClan?”

This time, Jayfeather’s words seemed to reach the cats around him; Bristlepaw could hear uneasy murmurs spreading throughout the crowd.

“Why are we cut off?” Crowfeather from WindClan called out. “And will the connection come back again?”

“Who will watch over us now?” some cat added from among the SkyClan warriors. Bristlepaw couldn’t see who it was, but she could hear the alarm in the cat’s voice.

“Calm down.” Mosspelt, the RiverClan elder, rose to her paws and waved her tail to emphasize her words. “The Moonpool is frozen! That must be what’s keeping StarClan away. But don’t worry. Newleaf will come; it always does.”

More yowling broke out, some cats agreeing with Mosspelt and others snarling their objections. Bristlepaw looked in dismay at their bristling fur and extended claws.

They can’t start fighting—not at a Gathering!

But before a blow could be struck, a single word rang out across the clearing. “Enough!”

Every cat turned to look up at the Great Oak. The cat who had called out was Tigerstar, on his paws again and sweeping the clearing with a commanding gaze.

“What Jayfeather says is not quite right,” he meowed when the assembled cats were quiet once more. “There is one cat who can still communicate with StarClan.”

Jayfeather looked outraged, but before he could speak, Puddleshine nudged a young cat to step forward from the group of medicine cats. Bristlepaw recognized him as Shadowpaw, the ShadowClan medicine-cat apprentice. He’s my kin, she remembered. . . . His mother, Dovewing, was the littermate of her own mother, Ivypool. He said nothing, but only stood blinking up at his Clan leader.

“Shadowpaw,” Tigerstar announced, “has received a message from StarClan.”