Warriors: Power Of Three 5 - Long Shadows (30 page)

A hot flood of fury swept through Hollyleaf and she paused, digging her claws into the sodden ground. More than anything, she wanted to be one of the three; she wanted to be special, to have a destiny beyond that of any other cat. I deserve to! Her need tore at her belly like sharp pangs of hunger. I’d work harder than any cat to be a great leader, and leave my paw print on all the Clans. I can’t let Ashfur destroy all my plans.

Choking down her rage, Hollyleaf padded on. Since the storm, more rain had fallen, and she had to pick her way across boggy ground and leap over tiny new streams that scoured through the sodden earth. Bracken fronds released showers of raindrops onto her head and shoulders as she brushed by. Her fur became splashed and muddy, but she carried on, scarcely aware of where she was.

The strong scent of a ThunderClan cat brought her to a halt.

She jumped as Ashfur appeared around the trunk of a gnarled oak tree. “Don’t creep up on me like that!” she snapped.

“I’m not creeping,” Ashfur retorted. “If you must know, I’ve been checking out the fox trail near the WindClan border. That fox Brackenfur scented is still around.”

Hollyleaf didn’t reply. She and Ashfur faced each other; Ashfur’s blue eyes were wide and wary. “What do you want?”

he demanded.

“How do you know I want anything?” Hollyleaf replied.

For a moment Ashfur looked disconcerted. “Aren’t you going to try to make me change my mind, like Squirrelflight and your littermates?”

“No.” Hollyleaf felt a stab of satisfaction at the startled look in the gray warrior’s eyes. “I know there’s nothing I can do. It’s your decision to betray your own Clan.”

“Betray?” Ashfur’s neck fur bristled and his claws slid out.

“I’m betraying no cat. Squirrelflight’s the traitor, because she lied.”

“And it’s not betrayal when you weaken ThunderClan in front of the other Clans, so soon after the Great Battle?”

Hollyleaf spat in disgust.

Ashfur stretched his neck toward her, his lips drawn back in a snarl. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working.”

Hollyleaf stood her ground. “And you don’t scare me, either,” she declared. “Nothing scares me more than the thought that you’re not afraid of what will happen after you’ve spoken out.”

Ashfur’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll purr over what will happen after I’ve revealed the truth,” he promised. Without waiting for a reply, he spun around and headed off through the forest.

The sun was sinking behind a ragged band of cloud as Firestar called his cats together to go to the Gathering. Shadows crept into the clearing, and the first warriors of StarClan were beginning to emerge into a sky stained with scarlet.

“Where’s Ashfur?” Firestar asked, looking around.

Hollyleaf exchanged a glance with Lionblaze. The other cats chosen for the Gathering—Brambleclaw, Dustpelt, Ferncloud, Graystripe, Cloudtail, and Cinderheart—were already clustered around their leader, while Leafpool and Jayfeather were padding across the clearing to join them.

But there was no sign of the gray warrior.

Firestar’s tail twitched with annoyance. “He specifically asked to come tonight, and now he’s not here. I asked Squirrelflight to come, too, and she’s not here either.”

“We’ll be late if we wait for them,” Dustpelt pointed out.

Tension churned in Hollyleaf ’s belly. She didn’t want to think about Ashfur, much less stand around waiting for him.

If he didn’t turn up at the Gathering, so much the better for every cat. As for Squirrelflight . . . Hollyleaf didn’t care if she never saw her again.

“Maybe Ashfur went on ahead,” Graystripe suggested.

“Well, if he did, he should have told one of us,” Firestar replied. “Let’s go.”

He led the way through the barrier of thorns. Hollyleaf brought up the rear with Lionblaze and Jayfeather.

She knew that both her brothers would be desperate to know where Ashfur was. She could almost see their anxiety crackling off their fur like lightning. But none of them spoke his name.

The cats had barely left the tunnel when Squirrelflight came bounding breathlessly up to them. Her pelt was clumped and soaking, and splashed with mud. “Sorry,” she panted. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Brambleclaw gave her ear a quick lick. “What have you been doing?”

“Looking for herbs for Leafpool, near the ShadowClan border,” Squirrelf light explained. “The bank of the stream was muddy, and I slipped in.”

“Mouse-brain,” Brambleclaw murmured affectionately.

“You should be more careful. Are you okay? You don’t have to come to the Gathering if you’d rather rest.”

“I’m fine,” Squirrelf light insisted. “And I’m not going to miss this Gathering. I haven’t been to one in moons.”

“Come on, we’re wasting time,” Firestar called from the front of the group.

He set off toward the lake; the forest floor was still sodden from the recent rain, and the cats had to scramble through muddy hollows or over branches that fell in the storm. Hollyleaf barely noticed the mud or the small streams her paws splashed through. She felt as though she was looking down a long tunnel into a future dark with fear and betrayal. She asked herself how far a cat should go to preserve the warrior code. And what happens if the code was broken no matter what you did?

The ThunderClan cats emerged from the trees and padded down to the edge of the lake, turning toward the WindClan border. A full moon already floated high in the sky, turning the surface of the water to silver. Looking up, Hollyleaf saw that clouds were drifting close to it, though none of them touched the shining silver disk yet. She swallowed. Were the spirits of their ancestors about to show their anger?

Firestar waved his tail. “Let’s hurry. The other Clans will be waiting for us.” Clear of the forest, he set a brisk pace, until his warriors were bounding along the edge of the lake.

Hollyleaf, still near the back of the group with Lionblaze and Jayfeather, saw Firestar halt suddenly on the bank of the stream that marked the border with WindClan. Graystripe, hard on his paws, let out a startled yowl.

Terrible foreboding filled Hollyleaf from ears to tail-tip.

She put on a spurt until she was racing along, her belly fur brushing the pebbles and her tail streaming out behind her.

Lionblaze kept pace with her.

Reaching the bank, she pushed through the cats who were clustered there, staring down into the stream. Wedged behind a rock just below her paws, the lifeless body of a cat floated in the swollen water, his fur dark and sodden. His tail streamed out into the current, waving as if he were still alive.

Dustpelt was the first to speak. “It’s Ashfur.”

Lionblaze dug his claws into the bank of the stream, only just managing to suppress a wail of dismay. Yet he couldn’t feel any sense of grief for his dead Clanmate. Ashfur had been about to reveal something that would have destroyed them all; now those terrible words would never be spoken. Exchanging a glance with Hollyleaf, he could see that his sister felt the same.

He hoped no other cat would ever know how relieved they felt at Ashfur’s death.

“Get him out,” Firestar ordered.

Dustpelt slid into the stream, with water washing around his belly fur. He gripped Ashfur’s shoulder in his teeth and started tugging.

“Be careful,” Ferncloud mewed anxiously.

Graystripe leaped into the water on Ashfur’s other side, and together the two warriors freed him from the rock and hauled his body up the bank.

Leafpool crouched beside him, one paw on his chest as she gave him a rapid sniff. Jayfeather stood beside her, his whiskers quivering. Leafpool looked up. “He’s dead.”

“How did he die?” Cinderheart asked, her blue eyes wide.

“Did he fall in and drown?”

“I fell into the stream by ShadowClan,” Squirrelflight reminded them; Lionblaze wondered if she too shared his relief. “It’s easily done, when the water’s running as high as this.”

Cloudtail let out a snort. “Ashfur was a strong warrior. He wouldn’t drown like a kit. If we want to know how he died, we should be looking at WindClan.”

Firestar bent his head to sniff Ashfur’s sodden body.

“There’s no WindClan scent.”

“The water would wash it off,” Cloudtail pointed out.

“We’ll talk about this later.” Firestar glanced around swiftly. “Dustpelt, Graystripe, can you take Ashfur’s body back to camp? The rest of us must go on, or the other Clans will know something is wrong.”

“I’ll go, too,” Lionblaze volunteered. “Ashfur was my mentor.”

Firestar nodded. “Good. You others, follow me.”

As Firestar and the rest of his warriors half waded, half swam across the stream, Lionblaze and his Clanmates picked up Ashfur’s body. It hung between them, a dead weight, as they struggled back through the forest to the hollow.

Thornclaw was on guard at the entrance to the camp.

“What . . . ?” His fur rose as they dragged Ashfur up to the tunnel. “What happened?”

Dustpelt explained, while Lionblaze and Graystripe carried the dead warrior into the middle of the clearing. The moonlight shone silver on his drenched gray fur; Lionblaze thought he looked strangely small in death. It was hard to imagine the power he had held in his paws, the power to drag down his Clan and bring shame on Squirrelflight and the kits who had believed they were hers.

Lionblaze flinched at the sound of a distraught wail behind him. Whitewing had emerged from the warriors’ den, followed by Birchfall. “Did a fox get him?” she cried.

Lionblaze shook his head. “We found him in the stream on the WindClan border. It looks as if he drowned.”

Whitewing shuddered. “That’s dreadful.”

Birchfall pressed his muzzle against hers. “You mustn’t upset yourself,” he murmured. “Think of the kits.”

Whitewing nodded. Slowly she padded up to Ashfur’s body and settled down beside it, her nose pushed into the cold, wet fur. Birchfall crouched protectively at her side, to keep vigil along with her. “He was a good mentor,” he mewed sorrowfully. “I’ll miss him.”

By now other warriors were coming out of their den, forming a ragged circle around Ashfur and questioning one another in hushed, shocked voices.

“WindClan will be at the bottom of this, mark my words,”

Mousefur meowed as she padded up with Longtail.

“On the night of a Gathering, too.” Honeyfern’s voice shook. “StarClan will be angry.”

“Firestar doesn’t think any cat is to blame,” Graystripe told them. “Ashfur was just very unlucky.”

Mousefur snorted with disbelief as she bent her stiff joints to crouch beside Ashfur’s body. Lionblaze lifted his head to gaze up at the moon as it f loated above the treetops. The clouds had cleared away; perhaps Firestar was right, and there was no need for StarClan to show their anger.

Sighing, he crouched down in his turn and pushed his nose into his former mentor’s fur. There was nothing to scent there but mud and water. Closing his eyes, he hoped that none of his Clanmates could sense that instead of grieving, his mind was numb with relief.

Lionblaze stayed beside Ashfur until the sky began to grow pale with the first hints of dawn. Other cats came and went around him, mewing in hushed voices.

At last Lionblaze heard the sound of movement in the thorn tunnel as Firestar and the rest of the Clan began to return from the Gathering. He stretched his cramped muscles and looked around to see Hollyleaf bounding toward him. Her eyes shone with a fierce light.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened at the Gathering!”

she hissed. “Firestar didn’t say a single thing about Ashfur.”

Lionblaze’s pelt prickled with surprise. “He didn’t?”

“Not a thing.”

One or two cats gave Hollyleaf a curious glance as she passed; Lionblaze touched her mouth with his tail to warn her to be quiet, and drew her a pace or two away from Ashfur’s body.

“He just passed on trivial bits of news about prey,” Hollyleaf went on in a furious whisper. “And he thanked our warrior ancestors for watching over us. And that was all.”

“Well . . . maybe he didn’t want ThunderClan to sound weak,” Lionblaze suggested.

“We’re not weak because one cat dies!” Hollyleaf spat.

Lionblaze couldn’t work out why she was so angry. “Every Clan leader reports stuff like that. It’s part of what Gather-ings are for.”

“And none of the other cats noticed that something was wrong?”

Hollyleaf shook her head. “Obviously Squirrelflight isn’t the only cat who’s good at lying.”

“I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re making out. Firestar must have had his reasons. And clouds didn’t cover the moon, so StarClan can’t have been angry with him.”

Hollyleaf ’s only reply was a disgusted snort.

Lionblaze pressed his muzzle against hers. “Come on. Let’s sit vigil with Ashfur for a bit.”

His sister’s eyes stretched wide. “Sit vigil for that mange-ridden excuse for a cat? I can’t believe you want to do that!

Ashfur would have destroyed the whole Clan if he’d lived for one more night.”

Without waiting for a reply, she whirled around and stalked toward the warriors’ den. Lionblaze watched her go, hoping she would sleep off whatever was troubling her so much, then padded back to Ashfur’s body and settled down beside it.

Jay feather followed Leafpool back into the camp. A dawn breeze whispered across the clearing, and he could hear the beginnings of birdsong in the trees above the hollow. A hush lay over the camp; Jayfeather could detect mingled feelings of grief and bewilderment as the cats tried to adjust to the fact that Ashfur was dead.

He followed Leafpool as she padded into the center of the clearing where Ashfur’s body lay. Jayfeather picked up the chill, watery scent that still clung to his fur, and the scents of Lionblaze, Birchfall, Whitewing, and Thornclaw, who still kept vigil beside him.

“He feels so cold and wet,” Leafpool murmured, crouching beside Ashfur. “This isn’t how we should send him to his warrior ancestors.”

Jayfeather heard the rasp of her tongue as she began to lick the dead warrior’s fur. Feelings of sorrow surged out of her in waves, almost like a mother grieving for her kit. She wasn’t in love with Ashfur, was she? Jayfeather wondered. She’s a medicine cat!