Lost Stars

Chapter 11

“Okay, today we’re going to teach you a new battle move,” Dewspring announced. “Reedclaw and I will show you first. Are you ready, Reedclaw?”

“When you are,” the tabby she-cat replied.

Two sunrises had passed since the Gathering, and although fierce cold still clamped down on the forest, at least there had been no fresh snow. Rootpaw and Needlepaw were training with their mentors in a sheltered hollow where the covering of dead leaves was visible under a light drifting of white.

“Watch carefully,” Dewspring told the two apprentices. “I’m going to attack Reedclaw. I’m bigger and heavier than her, but she’s going to beat me.”

Rootpaw crouched beside his sister, eager to see what the new move would be. Energy was rushing through him, as if he were a stream suddenly released from the grip of frost. “Wait till it’s our turn,” he whispered to Needlepaw. “I’m going to squash you!”

Needlepaw let out a small mrrow of laughter. “You can always try!”

Dewspring reared up on his hind paws and bore down on Reedclaw, who flattened herself to the ground, gazing up at him with wide eyes, as if she were terrified. But before Dewspring could land on top of her, she launched herself forward, still keeping low, and scooped his hind paws out from under him.

Rootpaw let out a yowl of excitement as Dewspring tumbled onto his side, hitting the ground with a thud. But Reedclaw hadn’t finished. As swift as a striking snake, she spun around and leaped on top of Dewspring, pinning him down with one paw on his throat and another at the base of his tail.

“Awesome!” Needlepaw breathed out.

Reedclaw stepped back to let Dewspring scramble to his paws. He stood for a moment, breathing hard and shaking leaf mold out of his pelt. “That’s the move,” he meowed. “In a battle, you might not get the chance to do the second part, but it’s a good way to deal with any creature who attacks you on hind paws. Especially if they think you’re scared.”

Needlepaw leaped up, bouncing on her paws with excitement. “I want to try! Come on, Rootpaw, attack me.” She crouched on the ground and blinked at him. “Oh, you’re such a big, strong cat! Please don’t hurt me!”

“You furball!” Rootpaw mewed good-humoredly.

He reared up on his hind paws, just as Dewspring had, and stretched out his forepaws, ready to fall on top of his sister. Needlepaw sprang forward, and even though he knew what she was trying to do, Rootpaw was too clumsy to dodge on hind paws alone. The breath was driven out of his body as he hit the ground; he tried to roll out of Needlepaw’s way, but she jumped on top of him and pinned him down with all four paws.

This isn’t over, Rootpaw thought.

Remembering his first training session, almost a moon ago, he let himself go limp. As Needlepaw looked up and asked, “Was that okay, Reedclaw?” he powered up from the ground, throwing Needlepaw off, and pinned her in turn with a paw on her neck.

“Mouse dung!” Needlepaw hissed.

Rootpaw stepped back and let her get up. He saw that Reedclaw had curled her tail up with amusement, and laughter was glimmering in Dewspring’s eyes.

“Well done, both of you,” Reedclaw meowed. “Now let’s try it again, and Needlepaw, you attack this time.”

When the training session was over, all four cats headed back to the SkyClan camp. Rootpaw lagged behind a few paces, his mind turning to Bristlepaw. Every time he thought about the ThunderClan apprentice, he realized all over again what an amazing cat she was. She had saved his life, she was good at everything, and every cat in her Clan liked her and relied on her, even though she wasn’t a warrior yet. Rootpaw had seen so much to admire in her, in the time he had spent in the ThunderClan camp.

I wish she’d seen that great fighting move I pulled off!

Then Rootpaw remembered his last meeting with Bristlepaw, at the Gathering. She had seemed chilly and distant. And everything was going so terribly for the other Clans. Rootpaw had noticed how skinny and miserable they all looked, much worse than the cats of SkyClan, who had the advantage of sheltered territory.

They’re all short on prey, and it sounds as if things are getting worse. I wish there were something I could do to help.

“Hey, Rootpaw!”

Needlepaw’s voice startled Rootpaw out of his musing, and he realized that he had fallen so far behind that the others were almost out of sight. Bounding forward, he caught up with them just before they reached the camp entrance.

Tree was on his way out, and he dipped his head to the two mentors as they passed. He would have continued without speaking, but Dewspring halted and meowed, “We’ve just had a good training session. Rootpaw and Needlepaw are doing really well.”

“Yes, they’re working hard,” Reedclaw agreed. “And they’re always cheerful, even when we tell them to clear out the soiled bedding!”

Tree listened gravely, though Rootpaw couldn’t tell whether he was pleased by their mentors’ praise. “Thank you for telling me,” he murmured at last.

The two mentors continued into the camp, but Tree held his kits back with a gesture of his tail. “Don’t be too obedient,” he advised them. “It’s important to think for yourselves, too.”

“I know,” Needlepaw responded instantly. “Don’t worry; it’s not a problem.”

Rootpaw couldn’t share his sister’s easy acceptance of what their father had said. Why can’t Tree behave like the rest of our Clanmates? he asked himself, trying to hide his irritation. Doesn’t he know how important it is to be part of a Clan?

Once he had said good-bye to Tree and headed on into camp, Rootpaw’s thoughts flew back to Bristlepaw and his time in ThunderClan. The whole Clan had been kind to take care of him, and Bristlepaw had been so brave to save him from drowning. She’s a real Clan cat! I wish Tree were more like her. He hated to think of her going hungry, even though he understood why she had rejected his offer to find prey for her. She has her pride—and I respect her so much for that. But I still wish I could help.

Glancing at the SkyClan fresh-kill pile, Rootpaw realized that although it wasn’t full, there was enough to feed every cat. The SkyClan cats around him in the camp looked far healthier than the ones he had seen at the Gathering.

We’re very lucky here, he thought. I wish I could do something to help the other Clans. Especially ThunderClan. Especially Bristlepaw.

Then an idea crept into Rootpaw’s mind. Spotting Leafstar and Hawkwing standing beside the Tallrock, he padded over to them.

“Greetings, Rootpaw,” Leafstar meowed as he approached.

Hawkwing gave him a friendly nod. “How is your training going?” he asked.

“Okay, I think,” Rootpaw responded, proud that the Clan deputy was his kin and that he had some good news to share with him. “Needlepaw and I learned a new battle move today.”

“Excellent,” Hawkwing purred.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about . . . ,” Rootpaw began. Now that he was actually standing in front of the Clan leader and her deputy, he was beginning to have doubts about the idea that had seemed so brilliant moments before.

“Spit it out, then,” Hawkwing meowed after an awkward silence of a few heartbeats.

Rootpaw took a deep breath. “I’ve been remembering how welcoming ThunderClan was to me after I fell through the ice. They took care of me and were generous with the prey they shared with me, even though their fresh-kill pile was low.”

“Yes, they were very kind,” Leafstar agreed, her eyes narrowing a little as she gazed at Rootpaw.

“So I thought . . . maybe to thank them for their kindness, I could take Bristlepaw a piece of prey—just one piece, that I catch myself,” he said.

Leafstar’s whiskers twitched disapprovingly, while Hawkwing gave his leader a doubtful glance. “Rootpaw . . . ,” Leafstar began.

“I’d catch it on my own time, not as part of a hunting patrol,” Rootpaw added hastily. “Bristlepaw was so brave, saving me when my own Clanmates couldn’t. . . . I just don’t feel I’ve thanked her properly,” he finished, “especially when ThunderClan was so good to me.”

Rootpaw’s heart was pounding as he waited for his leader’s verdict, but for several moments Leafstar said nothing. Eventually she turned to her deputy. “What do you think, Hawkwing?” she asked.

Hawkwing closed his yellow eyes in a long blink, then opened them again. “It’s not usual for Clans to share prey,” he replied. “And as we’re a new Clan here beside the lake, I think we have to be careful about overstepping boundaries.”

Leafstar nodded. “That’s true. But ThunderClan was helpful to one of our own, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful.”

“He has a point,” Hawkwing meowed.

Rootpaw dug his claws hard into the ground as Leafstar still hesitated. Finally the Clan leader dipped her head. “I’ll allow this, Rootpaw,” she told him. “But—”

“Great!” Rootpaw exclaimed, with a little bounce of excitement. “Thank you!” Then he realized that he had interrupted his Clan leader. “Sorry,” he muttered, hanging his head.

“But,” Leafstar repeated, “as you said, the prey must be caught on your own time, and you must get permission from your mentor.”

“And only one small piece of prey,” Hawkwing added. “If you catch another massive crow, it’s for us, not ThunderClan!”

“I understand,” Rootpaw mewed, nodding eagerly.

“Besides that,” Leafstar continued, “make sure that our fresh-kill pile is reasonably full before you take anything to ThunderClan.”

“Yes—yes, I will.” Every hair on Rootpaw’s pelt was quivering with impatience to get moving, but Hawkwing held him back with one raised paw.

“Remember, all Clan cats are proud,” he warned Rootpaw. “If you want to bring prey to Bristlepaw, you must make clear that it’s to say thank you, that you’re paying a debt.”

Rootpaw nodded gratefully. “I will,” he promised. “And thank you—both of you!”

“Off you go, then,” Leafstar meowed.

Rootpaw didn’t need telling twice. The words were hardly out of the Clan leader’s mouth before he raced across the camp, looking for Dewspring to ask permission.

Sunhigh was long past by the time Rootpaw headed toward the ThunderClan border. A small vole was dangling from his mouth. Its enticing scent and taste flooded his jaws, and with every paw step it became harder to resist. It was all Rootpaw could do not to stop and devour the vole himself.

I’m sure Bristlepaw will be pleased that I’m being so thoughtful, he told himself.

Dewspring and Sunnypelt padded along beside Rootpaw. Though his mentor had given him permission, he had insisted on coming with him, and had asked the young ginger she-cat to come too. Rootpaw had protested, but Dewspring had refused to listen.

“You must be totally mouse-brained if you think I’m going to let an apprentice visit a rival Clan’s territory on his own,” he had meowed.

Now Rootpaw just hoped that he’d still get to have a private chat with Bristlepaw. There were things he wanted to say to her, but not in front of his mentor.

“I think this is weird,” Sunnypelt remarked as they drew closer to the ThunderClan border. “Prey is so scarce right now, and here we are giving it away to another Clan.”

Dewspring shrugged. “Leafstar approved it, and it’s good to see an apprentice thinking about something other than his own belly.”

But I am thinking about my own belly, Rootpaw thought ruefully. And if we don’t get to ThunderClan soon, I won’t be able to stop myself devouring this prey!

The pungent scent of the ThunderClan border markers cut through the scent of vole in Rootpaw’s jaws, warning him that they were approaching the boundary between the two Clans.

“We’ll stop here,” Dewspring meowed. “A ThunderClan patrol should come along soon.”

Rootpaw dropped his prey and sat down beside it in the shelter of a clump of bracken. Looking out into ThunderClan territory, he could see how heavily the snow had fallen outside the protection of the valley, covering the ground and weighing down the branches of the trees. He hadn’t been sitting for long before his paws and his hindquarters were freezing cold; he rose again and began to pace up and down in a futile effort to get warm.

To his relief, it wasn’t long before he heard rustling on the ThunderClan side of the border, and three ThunderClan warriors appeared from a copse of elder bushes. Rootpaw didn’t recognize any of them from his first Gathering a few nights before.

The cat in the lead, a cream-colored tom with a stumpy tail, stalked up to the border and stood nose to nose with Dewspring. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Greetings to you, too, Berrynose,” Dewspring responded. “We’ve come to—”

He broke off as a tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat bounded up to Berrynose’s side and thrust out her muzzle toward Rootpaw’s vole. “Look!” she exclaimed, her whiskers quivering with outrage. “Prey! Have you been hunting on ThunderClan territory?”

Dewspring rolled his eyes. “Poppyfrost, have you got bees in your brain?” he asked. “Or do you think we’re mouse-brained? Given everything that’s happened lately, with so many cats hungry and desperate, do you really believe any warrior would be bold enough to start a quarrel over prey?”

“We have every right to be suspicious,” Poppyfrost began hotly. “Especially when—”

“No, it’s okay, honestly,” Rootpaw interrupted eagerly. “I caught the vole on SkyClan’s side of the border. I’m bringing it to Bristlepaw to say thank you for saving me when I fell in the lake.”

Berrynose and Poppyfrost exchanged a disapproving glance.

“Bristlepaw can catch her own prey, thank you very much,” Poppyfrost mewed, her voice as cold as the ice that covered the lake.

Berrynose shook out his long, creamy pelt, clearly insulted. “I don’t think this is a thank-you at all,” he snorted. “SkyClan is just rubbing our noses in it, that they have so much prey that they’re giving it away.”

The third member of the patrol, an older tabby tom, took a pace forward. “Let them come over,” he meowed, amusement glimmering in his amber eyes. “We shouldn’t discourage an apprentice from doing something generous.”

“Oh, Birchfall, you always think you know best,” Berrynose responded with a disdainful sniff. He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over the SkyClan cats. “Fine, you can come,” he snapped. “Follow us, and don’t put so much as a whisker out of line, or we’ll have some SkyClan fur to line our nests.”

Dewspring led the way across the border; Rootpaw and Sunnypelt joined him in a tight little group as they headed into ThunderClan territory. Berrynose took the lead with Birchfall bringing up the rear and Poppyfrost ranging to and fro on either side.

As soon as the SkyClan patrol emerged from the thorn tunnel into the ThunderClan camp, Rootpaw gazed around eagerly for Bristlepaw, but there was no sign of her. Dismay jolted through him from ears to tail-tip. I hope she’s not out on patrol.

His pelt tingled with nervousness when he saw that other ThunderClan cats had spotted them and were beginning to drift over in their direction, exchanging curious glances. Rootpaw realized for the first time that they might not be as friendly as they had been when he was sick and needed help. He was glad now that Dewspring had insisted on coming with him and bringing Sunnypelt.

“Poppyfrost, go find Bristlepaw,” Berrynose directed. “I’m going to report to Bramblestar.”

He bounded across the camp and began scrambling up a pile of tumbled rocks by the camp wall, leading to a ledge where Rootpaw knew the Clan leader had his den. Meanwhile Poppyfrost padded over to the apprentices’ den and stuck her head through the ferns. A moment later Bristlepaw emerged; Poppyfrost led her back to where the SkyClan cats were waiting.

Excitement rose inside Rootpaw as he saw the pale gray she-cat approaching. He remembered once again how angry she had been at the Gathering because she thought he was implying she couldn’t manage to feed herself. I need to be careful what I say.

Bristlepaw halted in front of Rootpaw. “Well?” she asked.

Rootpaw dropped the vole at her paws. “Bristlepaw,” he began, “I’ve brought you this vole to say thank you for saving me when I was drowning. You were so brave and helpful—and so was ThunderClan while I recovered here in your camp. I wanted to repay that debt by bringing you this prey.”

As he finished speaking, Rootpaw realized that he had sounded far too formal, as if he had been making an announcement at a Gathering. I meant to sound friendly, and I completely messed up!

Even worse, he saw that Bristlepaw looked embarrassed. She would not meet his gaze as she licked furiously at her chest fur. “There’s no need,” she mewed. “It’s nice of you, but I can’t—”

She broke off at a tiny sound from the ThunderClan cats who surrounded the group. She glanced around at her Clanmates. They were all eyeing the vole hungrily, as if every cat wanted to snatch it up and devour it.

“Thank you, Rootpaw,” she began again. “I can catch my own prey, but the ThunderClan elders will be grateful to share this vole. It’s a really good one.”

Rootpaw struggled again with feelings of dismay. He had wanted Bristlepaw herself to eat his vole. But he could see that her pride wouldn’t let her do that. He dipped his head. “Thank you, Bristlepaw,” he meowed. “I’ll never forget what you did for me.”

He never knew if Bristlepaw would have replied, because at that moment Bramblestar came shouldering through the crowd, followed by Berrynose. “Greetings,” he meowed to the SkyClan cats. “Welcome to our camp. Rootpaw, that was a kind thought, to bring prey for Bristlepaw.”

His amber gaze was warm and friendly, but a chill crept over Rootpaw as he returned the Clan leader’s gaze. He blinked, then blinked again. It was as though some kind of dark shadow was hanging over Bramblestar, yet no shadows lay in the clearing. Rootpaw glanced around swiftly at the other cats around him, but none of them seemed to notice anything odd.

“I—I was glad to do it,” he stammered in reply to the Clan leader, dipping his head respectfully. Inwardly his heart was pounding so hard he thought every cat must be able to hear it.

Is there something wrong with Bramblestar? Rootpaw asked himself. Or is there something wrong with me?

While Dewspring said a formal good-bye to Bramblestar, Rootpaw turned to Bristlepaw. “It was good to see you again,” he mewed, scuffling his forepaws awkwardly on the ground. “Maybe we’ll meet again at the next Gathering.”

“Maybe,” Bristlepaw responded; she sounded distant, and she didn’t say another word while she stood watching Rootpaw and his Clanmates make their final good-byes and leave.

The ThunderClan cats allowed the SkyClan patrol to travel back to their own territory without an escort. Rootpaw trailed miserably behind Dewspring and Sunnypelt. Even though he had done what he had set out to do, somehow it had all felt wrong.

“Well, that was a waste of time and prey,” Sunnypelt commented, echoing Rootpaw’s own thoughts.

Rootpaw also couldn’t forget the weird shadow that had seemed to enfold Bramblestar. He still wasn’t sure that he hadn’t been seeing things. Bramblestar’s one of the most honorable cats in the forest. There can’t be anything the matter with him . . . right?

“Hey, did either of you notice anything weird about Bramblestar?” he asked his Clanmates.

Sunnypelt just shook her head. Dewspring glanced back over his shoulder and asked, “What do you mean, ‘weird’?”

“I don’t know . . . like a . . . shadow.”

Dewspring huffed out a breath. “Nope. No idea what you’re meowing about.”

So that’s that, Rootpaw thought. Maybe it is me.

Then he realized that his father, Tree, knew a lot about weird stuff. Maybe he would listen to Rootpaw and advise him about what he had seen. I’ll ask him about it as soon as we’re back in camp!

But as they approached the SkyClan camp entrance, Rootpaw caught the sound of muttering coming from beneath the low-sweeping branches of a pine tree. Dewspring and Sunnypelt heard it too.

Creeping nearer to check it out, Rootpaw and his Clanmates spotted Tree, stretched out comfortably on the thick layer of needles underneath the pine. He seemed to be holding a lively conversation with himself. Rootpaw guessed that he was talking to some dead cat—Tree could see, and converse with, dead cats who weren’t in StarClan. But even though he understood, he had to admit that Tree looked and sounded pretty peculiar.

Dewspring and Sunnypelt exchanged a glance; Sunnypelt’s whiskers riffled with amusement as the two warriors turned away without commenting and padded on.

Rootpaw’s tail drooped. There’s no way I’m going to tell him what I thought I saw now! He believed his father’s power was real, but he had no interest in sharing it. I just want to be a good warrior . . . a good, normal warrior.

Rootpaw picked up his pace to catch up with his mentor. “Can we learn some more battle moves tomorrow?” he asked.

“Of course,” Dewspring purred. “It’s good that you’re so eager.”

His praise made up a little for Rootpaw’s disappointment. I’m going to concentrate on my training, he thought. I’m going to be a normal warrior, and StarClan help any cat who says I’m not!