Path Оf А Warrior

Chapter Five

The chill morning breeze ruffled Tawnypelt’s fur, and she shivered, her eyes still closed against the sunlight. She and Dovewing and Shadowkit had fallen asleep curled together, as they’d done the last two nights, but now she could feel that she was alone.

Without opening her eyes, she cocked an ear, listening for them. She heard the soft pad of paws on grass and Shadowkit saying, not far away, “But why does it live underground?”

Tawnypelt’s whiskers twitched. It was one of the things she had liked best about her own kits at that age: their wide-eyed questioning of the world, always wanting to know why things were the way they were.

“Well,” Dovewing answered quietly, “I guess voles live underground because they can keep warm there, and be protected from other animals who want to eat them.”

“Like us!” Shadowkit cried.

Purring with amusement, Tawnypelt opened her eyes, then climbed to her feet and stretched. Dovewing was now trying to explain to Shadowkit why cats didn’t live underground, and finding it difficult. She’s a good mother, Tawnypelt thought. Patient, and she takes Shadowkit’s questions seriously. It surprised her a little; she’d spent a lot of time thinking of Dovewing as the careless cat who’d run away from the Clans and made Tigerheart chase after her. Maybe she’s not so careless after all.

Dovewing had been very careful of Shadowkit on the two days of their journey so far, watching out for danger, making sure the kit ate and rested as much as he needed to, helping him over difficult terrain. Tawnypelt could see how precious Shadowkit was to Dovewing.

But gazing up at the craggy gray mountain ahead, Tawnypelt saw snow high on its peaks. It hasn’t been an easy journey so far … and it will only get worse. When they left these grassy foothills and moved on to the cold stone of the mountain, the true danger would arise.

It would be easier if we had more warriors with us, Tawnypelt thought with fresh regret. If she hadn’t acted so impulsively, perhaps she and Dovewing could have united to argue calmly with Tigerstar, and set out with a proper patrol, instead of storming off with Shadowkit in the middle of the night. But it’s too late now, she thought, shaking dust from her pelt. I just have to believe that Shadowkit is right—it was meant to happen this way. And we’ll be fine.

Shadowkit and Dovewing were in a sunny patch of grass, closer to where the mountain slopes rose above them. Tawnypelt padded toward them, and Shadowkit greeted her with a purr.

“We saved you a vole,” Dovewing mewed, and Tawnypelt settled beside them and sank her teeth into the prey. She eyed Dovewing, trying to think of what to say; she still felt a little awkward around the other cat.

“We went hunting before you got up!” Shadowkit announced, breaking the silence. “I helped catch that vole!”

“He certainly did,” Dovewing agreed. “He chased it right toward me.”

The kit puffed out his chest with pride, and Tawnypelt mewed affectionately, “You’ll be a good hunter one day.”

Shadowkit’s eyes widened earnestly. “I’m going to be a medicine cat, though,” he replied.

Tawnypelt’s eyes met Dovewing’s and they both purred with laughter, the stiffness between them disappearing. “We know, kit,” Dovewing chuckled, brushing her tail over his back.

“Even a medicine cat should know how to hunt, though,” Tawnypelt added. “You might get hungry while you’re looking for herbs.”

“I could track prey through the grass like this,” Shadowkit said, getting to his paws. He crouched low and waggled his hindquarters, ready to pounce. Both she-cats purred with laughter again, and Dovewing began to move her tail slowly through the grass for him to stalk.

“How much longer do you think it will be until we get to the Tribe?” Tawnypelt asked as they watched Shadowkit wiggling through the grass, his eyes fixed on Dovewing’s tail.

“Another day or two?” Dovewing guessed. “We’ll have to be careful of Shadowkit on the way. The mountain paths are so narrow.”

Tawnypelt shuddered, imagining Shadowkit slipping and falling from a crag, or down into a crevice between mountain boulders. “We’ll keep him between us,” she suggested. “We’ll go slowly over any slippery patches. By being slow and cautious, we can keep ourselves safe.” Dovewing nodded, but Tawnypelt could see the doubt in her eyes.

This would be a dangerous journey for a group of warriors—but for two warriors and an unwell kit?

“We should hunt again before we start,” Dovewing mewed finally. “The mountain prey—”

She broke off as Shadowkit gave a small, hurt noise and collapsed onto his belly in the grass.

Both she-cats jumped up and rushed to him as the kit began to convulse, his paws drumming against the ground, his body shaking.

“Shadowkit!” Tawnypelt cried. She and Dovewing put their front paws on Shadowkit’s side, trying to still his thrashing, but he was jerking violently and they couldn’t hold him.

We don’t even have any herbs to give him, Tawnypelt thought desperately, suddenly feeling terribly alone and helpless. Oh, why did I leave so suddenly? Why didn’t I ask Puddleshine for something before I brought Shadowkit with me?

After what felt like moons, the kit’s body stilled, and he blinked up at his mother, looking exhausted and panting rapidly.

“Shadowkit, how do you feel?” Dovewing asked gently.

The kit blinked. “All right,” he muttered. “But the tree …” He broke off, looking puzzled.

“Just rest,” Tawnypelt meowed firmly. “You’ll be able to think more clearly when you wake up.” Sleep helped him last time, she thought.

Dovewing gently nosed the top of his head. “Tawnypelt’s right. Let yourself sleep.” Obediently, Shadowkit closed his eyes.

They watched silently, their sides pressed together for comfort, as the kit’s breathing fell into the slow rhythms of sleep.

“I wish I could help him,” Dovewing mewed at last. “Each time this happens, it looks like—I don’t know how he’s surviving this.” Tawnypelt knew what she meant: Shadowkit didn’t look strong enough to come back from these thrashing, violent fits.

Dovewing shook her head, her face despairing. “If I were a better mother, I’d know what to do,” she went on. “Maybe if I had more experience with kits …”

“You’re a very good mother,” Tawnypelt meowed firmly. “Every mother sometimes feels like she doesn’t know enough to take care of her kits. Look at me: I raised three kits, but I don’t know how to help Shadowkit, either.” She nudged Dovewing gently. “You can’t blame yourself.”

Dovewing sighed, her tail drooping. “He’s had such a hard life so far,” she said, her voice bleak. “He was born away from the lake, among strangers, all because I dreamed that the ThunderClan nursery wasn’t safe. And then we brought him and his littermates on a long, dangerous journey back to the Clans. He saw Spiresight die, and they were so close. And it’s been hard for him, learning to live in a Clan. Not every cat has welcomed my kits. Now this. He’s sick and I don’t know what to do. Are we right to take him so far? On this dangerous journey? What if we don’t make it up the mountain? What if we do, and the Tribe still can’t help him?”

“I don’t know,” Tawnypelt admitted. She felt terribly sorry for Dovewing. “Raising kits is hard,” she mewed carefully. “You never do know if you’re doing the right thing, not while you’re doing it.”

“No,” Dovewing agreed, wrapping her tail tightly around herself.

“But those things you talked about—leaving the lake, then coming back home—those were decisions you made because you thought they were right for Shadowkit and the others, weren’t they?”

“Of course,” Dovewing said, her green gaze shining. “My kits mean everything to me.”

A pang shot through Tawnypelt. She thought of Flametail, her shy, sweet-tempered ginger kit, always eager to help his Clanmates, who’d grown to be a medicine cat and then drowned in icy waters; of Dawnpelt, who’d as a kit been fierce and playful by turns, who’d left ShadowClan for the Kin and been murdered by Darktail. And of stubborn, good-hearted Tigerstar. Her kits meant everything to her, too, and now Tigerstar was the only one left. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the sorrow rush through her, then opened them and looked at Dovewing again.

“The hardest lesson I’ve learned as a mother is that you can’t control what happens to your kits,” she told the younger cat. “All you can do is love them, and guide them, and try to do what you think is right for them when you can. That’s what you’re doing. You’re a good mother.”

Dovewing looked back at her, her tail gently twitching as she thought. “Thank you,” she mewed at last. “That means a lot. It helps.”

They sat in the grass, huddled close together for warmth, and watched over Shadowkit as he slept. The silence between them felt more comfortable now.

After a while, Shadowkit opened his eyes, stretched, and yawned. “I’m feeling better now,” he announced. “Are we going onto the mountain?”

Tawnypelt got to her feet, looking up at the narrow ledges they would have to travel to reach the Tribe. She brushed her tail over the kit’s back and exchanged a glance with Dovewing. “We’ll go as soon as you’re both ready.”