Warriors: Power Of Three 5 - Long Shadows (23 page)

She bounded on, then halted briefly and glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t look back,” she whispered. “It will only make it harder.”

Jaypaw watched her pale shape moving away from him in the dusk. Something swelled inside his chest as he realized how much courage she had—how much all the cats had—to set out on a journey like this on the strength of a dream. He just hoped he was right, for their sakes.

His paws slowed beneath him and he stopped to gaze down the hill at the black expanse of the lake, glittering here and there under the first stars to appear in the dark blue sky. As he watched, the moon slid out from behind a cloud, shedding its silver light over the water. The lake seemed so familiar, and yet it was not his home.

“Good-bye,” he whispered, wondering if he was saying good-bye to ThunderClan as well.

The rest of the cats had passed him, heading into what would become WindClan territory. As Jaypaw set out to catch up to them, he heard a cat calling his name.

“Jaypaw!”

His ThunderClan name.

He spun around. “Rock!”

The sightless cat stood close to a boulder on the hillside, his furless skin glowing in the moonlight.

“You do not belong with these cats,” he rasped. “You have done what you came here to do. It is time for you to go back to your Clan.”

The day before, Jaypaw would have been relieved. Now his first reaction was panic. “But—but what about Stone Song?”

he stammered. “I promised him. And Half Moon . . .”

“Your time here is over,” Rock insisted.

Jaypaw knew he had to obey. His destiny lay here, by the lake, not in the mountains. Thanks to him, the Tribe of Rushing Water would find their new home, and the Tribe of Endless Hunting would be found.

Padding over to Rock, he cast one last glance at the plodding line of cats, straining his eyes to pick out Half Moon’s glimmering pelt. She’l be so hurt that I left without saying good-bye.

But she was not his future. ThunderClan was, where he was a medicine cat.

He turned back to Rock. “Will the real Jay’s Wing come back now?”

Rock shook his head. “No. He disappeared at the start of their journey to the mountains.”

The cats were vanishing one by one into the darkness. None of them had noticed that Jaypaw was gone. Jaypaw stood rigid for a moment, then gave his pelt a shake. “Okay, let’s go,” he muttered.

Rock led the way behind the boulder, where the narrow entrance to a tunnel opened up. The old cat squeezed his way inside and beckoned with his tail for Jaypaw to follow.

The tunnel was utterly dark; Jaypaw guided himself by the sound of Rock’s paw steps as they padded through the silent blackness. Cool air told him where other tunnels branched off, but Rock led him straight down into the hill. Jaypaw pricked his ears, alert for any sound of Fallen Leaves, but there was no sign of the lost cat. How long before he realized that the cats aboveground had gone? Would he know at once how many moons he would have to wait in the empty darkness, until cats returned to the lake? Jaypaw shuddered, hoping Fallen Leaves would have no idea of what lay ahead.

At last the tunnel began to slope upward again. The sound of Rock’s paw steps faded, but now Jaypaw could smell moss and leaves again, the damp scents of the forest. Soon he found himself stepping into open air with the familiar scents of ThunderClan swirling around him. He was blind again, but he knew exactly where he was.

Slowly he picked his way down the paths that led to the stone hollow. Had he found the answers he was looking for?

Had he really been one of the cats that lived here once? And had those cats left to form the Tribe of Rushing Water? Was that where the prophecy came from?

At the last moment, when he could already taste the scent of the stone hollow, he veered away and headed for the lake.

A soft breeze had sprung up; the broken twittering of birds overhead told him that dawn was approaching. Reaching the lakeshore, Jaypaw padded across the soft grass and found the stick hidden under tree roots on the bank. He pulled it out and ran his paws over the scratch marks, as he had done so often before.

This time the scratches spoke to him clearly: Names and images of the sharpclaws filled his mind, and he could remember many of them from meeting them face-to-face.

Jagged Lightning, Cloudy Sun, Shy Fawn, Owl Feather . . .

They walked beside him at the Moonpool because he was one of them, the one cat who had returned to where they had lived long, long ago. Is that what makes me more powerful than StarClan?

Jaypaw wondered if Lionblaze and Hollyleaf must have been part of the ancient Clan, too, even though he hadn’t met them in the past. He drew his paws down the stick again and a vision flashed into his mind: three cats standing together on the ridge, with the rising moon behind them and their shadows stretching out, vast and black, across the silver lake.

Three cats, kin of Firestar’s kin, with the power of the stars in their paws. And now Jaypaw could understand how they belonged together, even after the lapse of so many, many seasons.

“We have come back,” he murmured. “The three have come home.”

Lionblaze woke to the sound of coughing. For a moment he burrowed deeper into the moss, trying to remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. His dreams were filled with Tigerstar, taunting him about his power, sneering at him for being revolted by the sight of Heatherpaw’s blood-soaked body. And when he wasn’t asleep, the warriors’ den was filled with choking, spluttering cats battling greencough. Then he stiffened. The sick cats had all gone to the Twoleg nest with Firestar! There shouldn’t be any coughing now.

Raising his head, Lionblaze saw Spiderleg in his nest a couple of tail-lengths away, his body shaken by another fit of coughing.

Oh, no! Firestar’s idea hasn’t worked.

“Spiderleg,” he meowed, “you’d better get along to Leafpool. She’ll give you something for the cough, and then you can join the others in the Twoleg nest.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” the older warrior snapped. “I’ve just got a bit of moss in my throat, that’s all.”

Even in the dim light of the warriors’ den, Lionblaze could see that Spiderleg’s eyes were glazed with fever. “I don’t think so.”

At the same moment Brambleclaw raised his head from his nest nearer the center of the den. “Spiderleg, you’re ill. You know how fast the sickness spreads. Go and see Leafpool now.

Lionblaze, go with him.”

“Sure.” Lionblaze hauled himself out of his nest and gave his pelt a quick grooming.

Spiderleg rose to his paws with an exaggerated sigh that ended in another bout of coughing. He pushed his way into the clearing, and Lionblaze followed, padding a few paw steps behind him as they headed for the medicine cats’ den. The chill of dawn still lay over the camp, and shadows crowded thickly around the sides of the hollow. A moisture-laden breeze held the promise of rain later.

Before they reached the den, Daisy came bounding over from the nursery. “Spiderleg, what’s the matter?” she fretted.

“Are you ill?”

“I’m fine. I just wish—” More coughing interrupted Spiderleg. “I just wish every cat would stop fussing,” he finished when he could speak again.

Daisy’s eyes grew wide with dismay. “You are ill!”

“Don’t worry, Daisy.” Lionblaze brushed his muzzle against the cream-colored she-cat’s shoulder. “I’m taking him to Leafpool now.”

He and Spiderleg headed off again, leaving Daisy to watch them after them, her eyes filled with anxiety.

Inside the den, Leafpool and Jaypaw were already awake.

“This is the last of the tansy,” Leafpool was mewing. “You’d better see if you can find more, and take it straight to the Twoleg nest. Remember to put it on the flat stone outside the entrance.”

“Okay.” Jaypaw turned to go, then halted as he realized that Spiderleg and Lionblaze were there. “What now?” he asked.

Spiderleg answered with another fit of coughing.

“No!” For a heartbeat Lionblaze saw fear flicker in Leafpool’s eyes. Then she was the quietly efficient medicine cat again. “Spiderleg, eat this tansy. It’ll soothe your throat. Jaypaw, bring some more back here as well.”

Jaypaw gave her a brief nod, whisked past the bramble screen, and vanished.

While Spiderleg was chewing up the tansy, grumbling under his breath, Daisy poked her head into the den. “Can I come in?” she asked Leafpool, her words muffled by the plump vole she was carrying.

Leafpool looked uncertain; the fewer cats around Spiderleg the better. Then she nodded. “Of course, Daisy. What is it?”

Daisy dropped the vole at Spiderleg’s paws. “I brought you this. I thought you could do with a good meal before you go to the Twoleg nest.”

“Well, you needn’t have bothered,” Spiderleg meowed ungraciously. “I’m not hungry.”

Daisy took a step back, her neck fur bristling. “I chose it specially!”

Spiderleg didn’t reply, just swiped his tongue round his jaws for the last of the tansy juices.

“Our kits are worried about you, too,” Daisy went on. Her voice grew sharper. “It’s a wonder they remember you, because you never come to visit them.”

Spiderleg shrugged. “It’s not that I’m not interested. . . . I just know that you’ll do a great job of raising them without me.”

“Why?” Daisy challenged him. “Because I’ve raised kits on my own before? But that wasn’t my choice, Spiderleg, as you know very well.”

Lionblaze exchanged an embarrassed glance with Leafpool; he wished he could leave the den, but the two quarreling cats were blocking the entrance. Leafpool was listening with a strange look in her eyes that Lionblaze couldn’t interpret.

“Every kit is different,” Daisy went on. “And every kit deserves to know its father. You’re missing out, Spiderleg, and if you’re not careful it will be too late, and your own kits won’t know who you are!”

Not waiting for a reply, she spun around and stalked out of the den.

“She-cats!” Spiderleg exclaimed.

He turned to leave, but Leafpool slipped past him and blocked his way out. “Kits are a precious gift, Spiderleg,” she mewed quietly. “You should take every chance you can to be a good father. It’s even better than being a mentor.”

“How would you know?” Spiderleg demanded.

Leafpool just gazed at him, her amber eyes clear and calm.

“Sorry,” Spiderleg muttered after a heartbeat. “It’s just . . . I never planned to have kits with Daisy. I feel useless and clumsy around them. And I feel every cat is judging me because I’m not closer to Daisy. It didn’t work out, that’s all.”

“That’s not the point,” Leafpool replied. “Your kits still have a mother and a father, even if you and Daisy aren’t mates anymore. You’re punishing the kits by not being a better father.

They won’t judge you because they don’t know any different.

But in the end, they’re the only things that matter.”

“I don’t know what to do!” Spiderleg protested. “I can’t—”

Another outbreak of coughing cut off what he was about to say.

“Then learn!” Leafpool’s amber eyes blazed. “You’ve seen Brambleclaw and Graystripe and Dustpelt around their kits.

I can’t believe you don’t see how important this is! You should cherish your kits with every breath you take.”

As she spoke, Lionblaze felt a surge of warmth toward Brambleclaw. He was a great father, always ready to listen or to help if his kits had a problem. He’d spent a lot of time with the three kits, because Squirrelflight went back to being a warrior so quickly. Lionblaze trusted him completely; he couldn’t imagine a better father. If Spiderleg’s not careful, he thought, he and the kits are going to end up like Crowfeather and Breezepelt. They don’t even like each other!

“Lionblaze.” Leafpool had obviously realized that he was there, listening to every word she and Spiderleg were saying.

“You can go now. Thanks for helping.”

Lionblaze dipped his head, and slipped past Spiderleg into the clearing. As he left, he heard Leafpool meow, “Before you go to the Twoleg nest, you will eat that vole. You need to keep your strength up if you’re going to get better.”

As he left Leafpool’s den, Lionblaze spotted Brambleclaw choosing a squirrel from the fresh-kill pile. Squirrelflight padded up, and her mate dropped the fresh-kill at her paws.

“This is for you,” he meowed. “I know how much you love young squirrel.”

“So do you,” Squirrelflight purred, touching her nose to his ear. “Let’s share it.”

Brambleclaw hesitated. “Okay, but you have as much as you want. The whole Clan wants you to get strong again.”

The two cats settled down side by side to share the squirrel.

A surge of warmth spread through Lionblaze as he watched them. Thank StarClan our parents are so close.

“Hey, Lionblaze!” Brambleclaw lifted his head from the squirrel. “Now that you’ve dealt with Spiderleg, what about a hunting patrol? Ashfur is waiting for you. The mice aren’t going to line up and come running into camp, you know.”

“Sure!” Lionblaze waved his tail and bounded across the clearing toward Ashfur. Yes, he loved his father, even if he was a bossy old furball!

Lionblaze padded along the old Twoleg path with a squirrel and two mice dangling from his jaws. It was his turn to take fresh-kill to the tree trunk outside the Twoleg nest. A thin drizzle was falling, misting on his pelt and turning the path to mud.

Two sunrises before, when Spiderleg had started coughing, the hopes of every cat in the Clan had plummeted, afraid that Firestar’s plan would come to nothing after all. But since then, no other cat had fallen ill. Lionblaze had begun to wonder if they had started to win the battle after all. He didn’t know much about the sick cats in the Twoleg nest except that all of them, even Millie, were still alive.

Everything was quiet as the walls of the Twoleg nest appeared through the trees. Lionblaze brushed through the wet grass to leave his prey in the hollow trunk. The trunk wasn’t empty as he had expected. A few pieces of fresh-kill, turning soggy from the rain, still lay at the bottom. The scent of cats around the tree stump was stale and faint.

Icy water, far colder than the rain, seemed to trickle down Lionblaze’s spine. Why aren’t the sick cats eating? Are they all too weak to fetch the prey?