Path Оf А Warrior

Chapter Seven

“Get out! Get up! Now!” Shadowkit’s frantic yowls echoed through the main cave as he burst out of the tunnel from the Cave of Pointed Stones.

Tawnypelt pounded after him, Dovewing and Stoneteller close behind.

“You have to get out of the cave!” Shadowkit screeched, running to the closest nest and leaping on the huddled figure inside. The cat in the nest—Lark, Tawnypelt thought—gave a startled squeak and pushed him away.

All around the edges of the cave, confused voices rose from different nests.

“What’s going on?”

“Who is that?”

“Shadowkit? Are you having a bad dream?”

“Go back to sleep!”

Tawnypelt was nearly close enough to grab the kit by the scruff, but suddenly he reversed course, wriggling underneath her and racing from one nest to another, pummeling the cats with his paws. “You have to leave the cave! Now! You’re in terrible danger!”

They’re not going to listen to a kit. Tawnypelt ran forward and shook the cat in one of the nests. “He’s not just dreaming,” she said. “You have to wake up.”

She could hear Dovewing waking another cat. “I’m sorry, but we have to get moving.”

Stoneteller’s voice rose above the commotion in the cave. “Every cat on your paws. Shadowkit has had a vision that we are in danger.”

Obediently, the Tribe cats began to climb out of their nests, blinking and yawning in the near darkness. A to-be ran off down a side tunnel and returned with a few kit-mothers, their kits whining sleepily around their paws.

“A vision?” Bird meowed. “Why would a cat from the Clans have a vision about us? The Tribe of Endless Hunting doesn’t have anything to do with the Clans.”

“We don’t really have to leave the cave, do we?” Pine yowled anxiously, and several cats chimed in.

“It’s pouring!”

“Listen to the thunder out there! Can’t we wait until the storm lets up?”

A flash of lightning lit up the cave, and every cat flinched. The rain outside intensified.

“Shadowkit was sent here for a reason,” Stoneteller meowed solemnly, raising his voice to be heard over the storm. “Even though I don’t quite understand either, I think we need to listen to him. We must leave the cave.” He led the way toward the cave mouth, his head ducked low against the water blowing in. Behind him, the cats looked at one another in shock, then slowly began to follow.

The Teller of the Pointed Stones never leaves the cave, Tawnypelt remembered, a sense of relief washing over her. Stoneteller must really believe in Shadowkit’s vision. I was right to bring him.

Something pressed against her side, and she looked down to see Shadowkit gazing up at her.

“Let’s keep him between us,” Dovewing said from his other side, sounding grim. “I don’t like the look of that storm.”

As they stepped through the cave mouth, cold water drenched Tawnypelt’s fur, making her gasp in shock. With the storm, the waterfall had increased terribly in size: the narrow path of rocks that usually ran behind the water was soaked, heavy water pounding steadily against it. A harsh wind blew through the waterfall, cutting through the cats’ wet pelts and chilling them to the bone.

Tawnypelt scrambled to stop herself from falling as her paws slipped. Instinctively, she and Dovewing moved closer together, almost pinning Shadowkit between them to keep him from being blown off the path.

Past the waterfall, things were no better. The combination of the storm and the pounding of the waterfall was deafening, and the cats huddled together miserably, straining to hear Stoneteller’s yowl.

Stoneteller looked down at Shadowkit, his gaze trusting. “Now what?” he asked, raising his voice above the howl of the wind and the steady pounding of the water.

Shadowkit shut his eyes for a moment, shivering with cold.

He’s too young, Tawnypelt thought, her heart heavy with doubt and worry. He doesn’t know what these visions mean.

Then Shadowkit opened his eyes. “We have to get to the riverbank,” he announced without a trace of doubt. With his tail, he gestured to a steep, narrow trail that wound up the cliff beside the waterfall.

Up there? Tawnypelt thought with horror. The path, which looked like it would be treacherous and slippery at the best of times, was awash in rushing, muddy water.

“Are you sure?” Stormfur turned to Stoneteller, his face full of dismay and his voice almost a howl. “That’s a dangerous path!”

“All of us?” one of the nursing kit-mothers wailed. “We can’t take the kits up there!”

Shadowkit wheeled to face her, his eyes wide and sure. “It’ll be more dangerous for any cat who stays down here,” he yowled.

“We must do this,” Stoneteller said with a calm certainty. “I will go first.” He stepped toward the path.

Stormfur stared at him for a moment, and then sighed and shook his pelt. “Right,” he yowled. “A couple of strong cave-guards right behind Stoneteller. Kits and kit-mothers and elders—and you, Tawnypelt, you’re not used to the mountains—in the middle. Swiftest prey-hunters right behind them: You’re fast and sure enough to catch a falling kit. More cave-guards at the back. Nose to tail, and be ready to grab any cat who slips.”

Shivering, water dripping from their fur, the cats followed his direction. The kit-mothers crouched, letting their kits climb up onto their backs, and Dovewing lowered her belly to the ground, too. “Shadowkit, hold on to me with all your strength,” she warned as he scrambled onto her back.

The path was rough beneath Tawnypelt’s paws, small stones and grit slipping under her so that it was impossible to get any kind of grip on the rocks. Dovewing’s tail brushed her nose, and Tawnypelt’s muscles tensed, ready to leap to the rescue if Dovewing or Shadowkit slipped. She could feel Brook close behind and was grateful for her, and for the Tribe cats following her—without them, it would be a long, painful fall back down if she slipped.

It was a difficult climb, even harder than she would have predicted. Her claws ached from trying to find a hold on the rocks, and ice-cold water streamed over her face, almost blinding her, and dripped from her whiskers.

Once, a cat ahead of her slipped and skidded a few tail-lengths back, knocking the cats behind her one into the other. Dovewing fell back onto Tawnypelt, who felt her own paws skidding backward into Brook.

But no cat fell, and a moment later they were all pressing forward again, straining against the wind and rain.

At last, her paws sore and her soaking fur plastered against her sides, Tawnypelt followed Dovewing as the path led them to a thin strip of level ground above the waterfall.

Almost touching their paws, the stream rushed past, swollen to river size and overflowing its banks, then plummeted over the cliff. Leaves and sticks were swept along by the current, speeding past the cats before disappearing swiftly down the waterfall. Dovewing crouched to let Shadowkit off her back and then herded him away from the water’s edge, placing herself between her kit and the tumultuous water.

“Now what?” Stormfur yowled.

Shadowkit stepped forward. “This is the place,” he said, looking around. “We have to pile rocks in the stream. If we can build a strong enough barrier, we can stop the tree from falling.”

“What tree?” Night wailed, and turned to Stoneteller. “This is crazy. The water’s too strong; we can’t get into it.”

“The Tribe of Endless Hunting wouldn’t have set us an impossible task,” Stoneteller meowed. “Shadowkit has seen what we must do.”

There was a long moment of hesitation. The Tribe cats stared at Stoneteller, their thin sides rising and falling quickly beneath their soaked and matted fur.

“There’s no time to waste!” Shadowkit yowled, but no cat moved.

I believe in Shadowkit, Tawnypelt thought. There was a rock that rose almost to her shoulder by the edge of the stream, and she braced her paws against it and pushed. The stone shifted. Gathering her strength, she pushed again, and the rock slid toward the river.

Another pelt brushed hers. “Together,” Dovewing meowed, and put her paws beside Tawnypelt’s on the rock. They heaved, and the stone tumbled into the river. Behind her, Tawnypelt sensed the other cats moving. A little farther upstream, Stormfur’s stocky shoulders worked as he forced a boulder into the water. Lark and Pine were working together. Every cat was scrabbling at the surface of the banks, working their paws beneath the stones to loosen them, shoving with legs and flanks. They were soaked, exhausted, and plastered with mud, but determined.

“Faster! Please!” Shadowkit yowled, pacing back and forth beside the river.

As more rocks were pushed into the edges of the water, the current changed, flowing faster still as it was forced into a narrower channel. Tawnypelt began to roll another rock farther into the river. As she stepped into the water, the current slammed into her, pushing her hard against the rock. She braced herself and moved on, her side aching from the blow. Stormfur followed her, shoving a rough chunk of stone ahead of him, and a broad-shouldered cave-guard came behind him.

Stoneteller was in the water, too, his eyes slitted against the storm, fiercely determined.

We’re doing it. Already, a line of stones ran almost all the way across the river, water splashing against and pouring over them.

“Roll one along here,” Breeze yowled. The to-be was right in the middle of the river. A wave of water washed over her back, but she braced herself and waded toward the rock Night was pushing toward her.

Suddenly, a fresh wave of water hit Breeze head-on. The to-be slipped and disappeared under the surface.

“Breeze!” Brook yowled in horror from the riverbank. The young cat’s head popped up and she gasped for breath before being pulled under again and swept quickly toward the waterfall.

“Breeze!” Brook and Stormfur and several other cats plunged into the water, but Tawnypelt was closest. Diving forward, she sank her teeth into the scruff of Breeze’s neck. The weight of the to-be’s struggling body made her stagger a few steps toward the waterfall, her stomach lurching with fear. Bracing her legs against the bottom of the river, she steadied. Dragging Breeze with her, Tawnypelt fought her way to shallower water, where Breeze was able to get her paws under her again.

“Th-th-thanks,” Breeze stammered, shivering with cold.

“You saved her!” Brook yowled, wading out to them and looking her daughter over for injuries.

“We can never thank you enough, Tawnypelt,” Stormfur said solemnly, brushing his cheek against hers. At the joy in her old friend’s eyes, Tawnypelt felt warm inside despite the freezing-cold water soaking her fur.

“There’s no time!” Shadowkit was staring upstream, his amber eyes wide and his fur fluffed out into spikes. Instinctively, Tawnypelt and the other cats turned to follow his gaze.

The horizon seemed dark and empty. “What is—” Dovewing began to ask.

CRACK! Thunder boomed at the same time as a flash of bright white light dazzled them, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the water in the distance. Tawnypelt’s fur stood on end, the fizz of lightning running through her. “That was close,” she muttered.

“Look!” Stoneteller’s meow was horrified.

Far upstream, a huge dark shape was in the water, rapidly being borne toward them.

“It’s a tree. A tree from higher up the mountain,” Stormfur said, sounding stunned.

“It’s huge!” Bird whimpered.

“We have to get more rocks into the stream,” Stoneteller ordered. “Quickly. If a tree that big goes over the waterfall, it could destroy the whole cave.”

Panicking now, the cats waded into the water, pushing more stones into the heaped-up line in the river. Tawnypelt shoved a stone into place, her muscles straining, and immediately turned to help maneuver another, bracing it against one beneath the water. Her heart was pounding. No time, no time. What would the Tribe do if they lost their cavern? How would they survive a winter, homeless in the mountains?

The dark shape was closer now, sweeping around a bend in the river.

“Get out of the water!” Stoneteller yowled. The tree was too close; there was nothing more they could do. Either the rocks would hold the tree back, or the Tribe’s cave would be lost.

Tawnypelt raced with the others to the riverbank, then wheeled around, staring at the tree as the river flung it toward them. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry with panic.

What if we waited too long to listen to Shadowkit? We should have been here sooner… .

Have we done enough?