Warriors: Power Of Three 1 - Sight (14 page)

Lionpaw could hardly hear anything for the blood rushing in his ears. He puffed his chest out and held up his chin, feeling his pelt burn under the stares from the other cats. In a moment that was at once too short and too long, it was over, and Firestar was carrying on with his report.

“We have been lucky this leaf-bare,” he meowed. “There has been frost but little snow, and the prey has continued to run.”

Lionpaw’s pelt prickled. There was a new scent in the air, something he hadn’t smelled before. Some of the other cats clearly scented it too—he could see their heads turning, searching the edge of the clearing.

There was a rustle in the bracken close to where the WindClan cats were gathered and in the shadows Lionpaw saw movement.

Firestar fell silent and watched with the other cats as two lithe shapes emerged from the undergrowth.

“Intruders!” The alert spread through the Clans like wild-fire. All around Lionpaw felt pelts bristling in alarm and battle-hungry muscles tensing, ready to spring.

The WindClan warriors who were nearest lunged at the strangers. Yowling and hissing, they wrestled the trespassers to the ground.

Are they going to kill them? Lionpaw turned back to the Great Oak, wondering what the leaders would do.

Firestar’s fur was standing on end. His tail was stiff with shock, and his ears were pricked as he sniffed the air and sniffed again.

“Stop!”

The WindClan cats froze and drew back, leaving the two strangers standing alone on the edge of the Clans. Lionpaw strained to see over the heads of the other cats.

In a voice that was taut with shock and disbelief, Firestar called a name Lionpaw had only ever heard mentioned in nursery stories.

“Graystripe!”

Hollypaw stared in amazement. Graystripe?

“But he’s dead!” she hissed to Lionpaw.

Her brother did not reply. He was too busy trying to balance on his hind legs to get a better view.

Hollypaw ducked down and weaved among the legs of the Clan cats until she reached the edge and peeped out between the pelts of Crowfeather and Breezepaw.

A gray tom with a stripe of darker fur along his spine stood in front of the bracken. His pelt clung to bone and wasted muscle, the fur matted and dull. His left ear was torn, and there were whiskers missing from his scratched and filthy muzzle. Beside him shivered a light gray tabby she-cat. Her short fur stuck out in clumps, and her tail hung limp and bedraggled.

But Graystripe’s dead!

“You’re alive!” Firestar burst out from between Onestar and Tornear. He faced Graystripe round-eyed, his fur on end.

Graystripe stared back. His companion flattened her ears and lifted her front paw defensively. She was trembling, her eyes bright with fear as she tried to look at all the cats at once.

“Easy now, Millie,” Graystripe cautioned.

Firestar stretched his muzzle forward, sniffing tentatively, as though he could hardly believe what he saw. “The Twolegs didn’t kill you. . . .” He lifted his face to the moon. “Thank StarClan,” he whispered.

Startled mews erupted among the watching cats.

“Graystripe’s come back!”

“He must have escaped from the Twolegs!”

“How did he survive?”

“What about Brambleclaw?”

What about Brambleclaw? Hollypaw looked at her father.

Firestar had held a vigil for Graystripe as he would for any dead Clanmate, and made Brambleclaw his deputy instead.

But Graystripe was alive, and now he had come back. . . .

The ThunderClan deputy was staring at Graystripe. “I can hardly believe that you found us.” His voice was filled with admiration, but his gaze glittered uneasily as he stepped forward and brushed muzzles with the gray warrior.

Firestar flicked his tail. “Where did they take you?”

Graystripe didn’t answer. He was staring at Firestar. “So you didn’t wait for me.”

Pain flashed in Firestar’s eyes. “I couldn’t.”

Graystripe dipped his head. “You could not risk the Clan by keeping them in the forest.”

Firestar leaned forward. “If it had been only my life at stake”—he glanced around the Clans, then lowered his voice—“I would have waited.”

Hollypaw felt a rustling behind her. The other ThunderClan warriors were pushing their way forward to greet their old denmate.

“Graystripe!” Dustpelt dashed over. “You’re alive!”

Berrypaw, Hazelpaw, Ashfur, and Spiderleg crowded excitedly around, sniffing his fur, poking him with their muzzles.

Graystripe flinched away.

“Give him some space,” Leafpool warned. “He’s exhausted.”

“But he’s a legend!” Hazelpaw complained as Leafpool shooed her and the others away with her tail.

Squirrelflight was staring at Graystripe’s companion.

“Who are you?”

“This is Millie,” Graystripe meowed. “I met her in Twolegplace.”

Squirrelflight gasped. “A kittypet made the journey with you?”

“I couldn’t have managed it alone,” Graystripe meowed.

Brambleclaw narrowed his eyes. “Did you follow our trail?”

“No,” Graystripe told him. “We found our own way.”

“We searched for Graystripe’s home first,” Millie explained. Her voice had a hard edge that surprised Hollypaw. She thought all kittypets would speak with the same soft mew as Daisy.

Graystripe’s ragged pelt bristled. “The whole forest was devastated when we got there. No cats, no prey, nothing but torn-up trees and monsters.”

“How did you know which way we had gone?” Leafpool asked.

“We saw Ravenpaw.”

Firestar’s eyes glowed. “How is he?”

“He’s well, but concerned for you all.” Graystripe stopped for breath before going on. “He said he’d seen you pass and that you were heading toward the setting sun. So we carried on over Highstones—” He broke off, his tail quivering.

Leafpool darted forward. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired.”

Leopardstar shouldered her way through the ThunderClan cats. A loud purr was rumbling in her throat. “It’s good to see you again, Graystripe.”

As she spoke the warriors from every Clan raised their voices.

“Welcome back, Graystripe!”

“How did he find us?”

“StarClan must have been watching over him!”

Cats from all four Clans surged around Graystripe until he was almost lost in a forest of pelts, brown, white, ginger, and tabby. Purrs blended, rumbling like thunder, louder than the sound of the wind in the branches.

Hollypaw watched in disbelief. She knew there was a truce at the Gathering, but this was not how it was supposed to be.

There were meant to be four Clans, yet the warriors were acting like they belonged to the same one. She wriggled through the crush of pelts to where Lionpaw was watching with round eyes.

“It’s not natural,” she whispered in his ear. “Graystripe is ThunderClan. Why are the other Clans making such a fuss over him?”

“I don’t know,” Lionpaw admitted. “I thought that being a warrior meant protecting your Clan. Shouldn’t the other Clans be worried that ThunderClan has an extra warrior now?”

Hazelpaw nosed in beside them. “They sound like they’re in one of Squirrelflight’s stories about how the Clans came together to make the Great Journey.”

“The Great Journey’s over,” Hollypaw pointed out.

But Hazelpaw wasn’t listening. She was gazing at Graystripe. “How did he know we were on the island?”

“Do you think StarClan guided him?” Lionpaw wondered.

“How did you know we were here?” called a sleek gray RiverClan she-cat.

Graystripe lifted his muzzle toward her. “Mistyfoot, it’s good to see you again. We met a rogue who told us there were cats living by this lake,” he explained. “When we reached the top of the ridge, the full moon was shining on the water and I could see shapes moving on the island.”

“After that, we just followed the freshest scents,” Millie explained. “They led us down to the shore and over the fallen tree.”

Hollypaw heard a stifled hiss of disgust. Blackstar was staring at Millie with open malice. The gray she-cat glanced at him, then lifted her chin and returned his stare, and, even though her tail was trembling, she held the ShadowClan leader’s gaze until he looked away. Hollypaw was impressed.

Graystripe saw what was happening and bristled, the muscles flexing on his broad shoulders.

“Let’s not forget the truce!” Leopardstar warned.

“The truce is for warriors, ” Blackstar snarled.

“The Gathering is for warriors!” Onestar called.

A murmur rippled through the WindClan cats and spread through ShadowClan.

“Is ThunderClan going to allow another kittypet to join its ranks?” muttered a disbelieving voice.

“I have trained Millie as a warrior!” Graystripe hissed. “A kittypet would never have survived such a long journey.” His voice cracked into a cough, and Hollypaw saw that the gray warrior was trembling from his ears to the tip of his tail.

Firestar must have seen it too. He padded over to Graystripe and pressed against him. “Let us take you back to camp.”

Graystripe glanced at Millie. “Do you think you can travel a little farther tonight?”

“I’ll keep going as long as you need me to,” she assured him.

“Very well,” Firestar meowed. He looked at the other Clan leaders. “Was there any other news to be shared at the Gathering?”

“Not from RiverClan,” Leopardstar answered.

“WindClan is satisfied,” Onestar told him.

Blackstar shook his head.

“Then let us return,” Firestar called to ThunderClan, “and show Graystripe and Millie their new home.”

“Does this mean ThunderClan has two deputies now?”

Breezepaw called boldly.

Hollypaw pricked her ears and, as she did so, she noticed Ashfur lean forward, whiskers twitching.

Sandstorm stepped up to Firestar’s side. “Graystripe and Millie are tired,” she reminded him quietly. “We should get them home as soon as possible.”

“Yes.” Firestar flicked his tail toward Brambleclaw. “Lead the way,” he ordered.

Brambleclaw instantly headed away through the wood toward the fallen tree.

Sandstorm wove around Millie. “Stay close to me,” she advised. “We’ll have you in a warm, dry den before the moon is much farther across the sky.”

Millie nodded and padded, limping slightly, alongside the pale ginger she-cat. Hazelpaw hurried to join them, clearly excited to be helping guide the stranger back to camp.

Hollypaw fell in beside her brother and they trailed after the others. She was acutely aware of the other Clans watching them leave. One WindClan apprentice dipped her head to Lionpaw as they passed.

“Do you know her?” Hollypaw asked, surprised.

“That’s Heatherpaw,” Lionpaw replied. “I met her tonight.”

Hollypaw looked back over her shoulder at the WindClan apprentice. Heatherpaw was whispering in her companion’s ear, her eyes fixed firmly on Graystripe as he disappeared into the trees.

Then Hollypaw heard a voice above the murmuring of the lake.

“Surely Firestar will restore Graystripe to deputy!”

Hollypaw glared at the RiverClan warrior who had fur the color of stone.

Another voice whispered, “The vigil to Graystripe was false!”

Rage flared in Hollypaw, but not enough to sweep away the foreboding that pricked her pelt. Had Brambleclaw been made deputy by mistake? She pushed the thought away, closing her ears to the gossip from the other Clans.

The tree-bridge loomed ahead, and she scrambled up through the dead branches to pick her way along the slippery trunk. Lionpaw waited at the other end. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and as she landed he mewed, “I hope all the Gatherings are as exciting as that one! Imagine Graystripe finding us!”

Hollypaw hurried after him, irritated. “Aren’t you worried?”

“What about?”

“About Graystripe coming back, of course!” Hollypaw flicked her tail. “How can StarClan approve of Brambleclaw being deputy when Graystripe is still alive?”

“StarClan didn’t tell us he was still alive,” Lionpaw reminded her. “If it meant so much to them, they should have sent a sign or something.”

Mousepaw slowed and fell into step beside them. “I think Brambleclaw is a great deputy, and Firestar can’t ignore that,”

he mewed.

“Exactly,” Lionpaw agreed.

“But what about the warrior code?” Hollypaw protested.

“Does the code say anything about warriors coming back from the dead?” Lionpaw demanded.

Hollypaw shook her head. No cat had mentioned the warrior code at the Gathering. And yet she could not shake the feeling that some rule had been broken by appointing a new deputy when the old one wasn’t dead.

“Graystripe was deputy first,” she argued, half to herself.

“Do you want him to replace Brambleclaw?” Lionpaw asked, surprised.

“Of course not,” Hollypaw snapped.

“And the Clan is fine as it is,” Mousepaw pointed out. “So why bother changing anything?”

Hollypaw looked up ahead at Sandstorm and Millie. The two she-cats were padding along the lakeshore beside Firestar and Graystripe. Around her, the rest of the Clan murmured in hushed whispers, and Hollypaw guessed that they were as uncertain as she was about what would happen now that Graystripe had returned to ThunderClan.

A line as pale as spilled milk gleamed on the horizon as Hollypaw followed her Clanmates back into the hollow. The excited whispering, which had buzzed along with them like a swarm of bees during the long trek home, ceased as they padded through the thorn tunnel. Moonlight bathed the clearing, but the edges of the camp lay in shadow. Hollypaw’s pelt pricked with anticipation as she saw two small shapes hurrying from the apprentice’s den.

“How was the Gathering?” Cinderpaw called.

Firestar halted, Graystripe beside him. “You should be asleep,” he meowed to the apprentice. “You will be too tired for your training in the morning.”

“Sorry, Firestar,” Cinderpaw apologized. “But we couldn’t sleep until we’d heard about the Gathering.”

Graystripe’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “We would have done the same when we were apprentices,” he reminded Firestar.

“Who are you?” Cinderpaw’s eyes grew round as she stared at the gray warrior.