Warriors: Power Of Three 4 - Eclipse (10 page)

Hollypaw sniffed at the heather and detected the stale scent of WindClan.

Sandstorm’s ears pricked. “Dogs!”

Hollypaw stiffened. Half-blinded by the piercing wind, she peered at the distant hillside rising up to the gray horizon. She could make out the shape of black-and-white dogs streaking over the heather. A Twoleg stood close by, waving its forelegs and whistling like a shrill bird giving an alarm.

Are the dogs hunting the Twoleg?

She watched more closely. No. The Twoleg seemed to be using the dogs to hunt the sheep; when it pointed with its forelegs, the dogs chased the animals across the grass, sending them into a frightened, bleating huddle. With any luck, the sheep would keep the dogs distracted long enough for the patrol to make it to the WindClan camp.

Brambleclaw was scouring the slope. “No sign of WindClan,” he meowed. “And judging by the markers, they haven’t been here for a while.”

“That’s because they’ve been too busy hunting in our forest,” Sandstorm growled.

“Should we go back and tell Firestar?” Brackenfur wondered.

Brambleclaw flexed his claws. “Not without speaking to Onestar.” He padded across the border and, with a flick of his tail, ordered the patrol to follow.

Hollypaw’s heart was racing as she followed Brackenfur through the heather into WindClan territory. The wind tugged at her fur as Brambleclaw led them on, chin high, ears pricked for danger.

As they crossed a muddy dip and began to climb the slope beyond, Hollypaw felt more and more wary. Something was wrong. She tasted the air, wrinkling her nose against the sheep stench. Where were the birds and rabbits? She sniffed again.

No WindClan, no birds, no rabbits. It was as though the land had been deserted by everything but the sheep and the dogs.

Brambleclaw halted suddenly, his hackles rising. Alarmed, Hollypaw looked up. A boulder rose like a giant paw from the grassy slope, and on it she saw the shape of a cat silhouetted against the hillside. WindClan!

“Stay where you are!”

Hollypaw recognized Harespring, a young brown and white tom.

He crouched, bristling, and glared down at them. “Isn’t there enough prey in ThunderClan territory?”

“How dare he accuse us?” Sandstorm hissed.

“Careful,” Brambleclaw whispered. “We are on his territory.”

Two more cats appeared beside Harespring—Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy, and Owlwhisker. The wind slicked their fur, but there was no doubt they were angry. Their eyes glittered with rage.

Before Ashfoot could speak, Brambleclaw took a step forward. “We’ve come to speak with Onestar.”

“We come in peace,” Sandstorm assured her.

“Go back to your own territory!” Ashfoot ordered.

Brambleclaw held his ground. “Not until we’ve seen Onestar.”

Owlwhisker narrowed his eyes. “ThunderClan should stop thinking they can come and go on WindClan territory as they please!” The light brown tom drew back his lips, his teeth yellow beneath. “I bet you don’t visit Blackstar this often!”

“Just go home,” Ashfoot growled. “Onestar doesn’t owe you any favors.” Her unsheathed claws scratched white marks into the stone.

Brambleclaw took another step forward. “We promised Firestar we’d speak to Onestar. We only want to talk!”

Harespring streaked from the boulder, hurling himself through the air and skidding to a halt in front of Brambleclaw.

“Not another paw step!”

Hollypaw let her claws slide out, her muscles tensing to defend her Clanmates.

“We want to see Onestar,” Brambleclaw repeated evenly.

He lifted his paw to take another step forward.

Harespring lunged at him, forepaws slashing.

With one swipe of his paw, Brambleclaw knocked the young warrior to the ground without unsheathing his claws.

Pinning him there, Brambleclaw glared up at Ashfoot. “We come in peace,” he growled through clenched teeth.

Ashfoot leaped down, staring in dismay at her fallen Clanmate. “Please let him go!” she begged.

Hollypaw was startled by the desperation in her voice.

Brambleclaw stepped back and let Harespring scramble to his paws. The young warrior hissed at the ThunderClan deputy.

Panic f lashing in her eyes, Ashfoot weaved between the two warriors. “You really have to go,” she meowed, half plead-ing. “Onestar has nothing to say to you.”

Brambleclaw hesitated, then nodded. Turning away, he flicked his tail. At his signal, Hollypaw fell in beside her Clanmates, and the patrol headed back toward the border.

Hollypaw was bristling with indignation. “It’s so unfair,”

she snapped at Brackenfur. “We haven’t stolen any prey. We only came to give Onestar a chance to explain himself.”

Brackenfur didn’t respond. “Don’t you think they seemed thin?” he wondered out loud.

“WindClan cats are always thin.” And yet, thinking back, Hollypaw realized he was right: The three WindClan warriors had seemed even skinnier than usual.

Brambleclaw glanced back at Brackenfur. “Could they be in trouble?”

“It would explain why they turned us back,” Sandstorm meowed.

“They didn’t want us to see how weak the Clan was,” Brambleclaw guessed.

Hollypaw remembered the absence of rabbit scent and birds. “But what’s happened to all their prey?” No other Clan was fast enough to steal rabbits from WindClan territory.

Brackenfur tipped his head toward the sheep and dogs mewling and barking on the distant slope. “Perhaps they scared the rabbits and birds away.”

Hollypaw felt her belly tighten. “That doesn’t mean WindClan can steal our prey.” Things couldn’t change. There had to be four Clans around the lake. If WindClan’s territory couldn’t support them, what would happen to the other boundaries?

As soon as they reached camp, Brambleclaw and Sandstorm leaped up to Highledge to report what they’d found.

Hollypaw spotted Lionpaw, tail-down at the edge of the clearing. A large wad of tatty moss hung from his jaws, and scraps clung to his pelt.

“You’re not still cleaning out the elders’ den, are you?” she mewed.

Lionpaw spat out the moss. “I finished that ages ago,” he snapped. “I’m doing the nursery now.”

“Let me help you,” Hollypaw offered.

“I thought you were too busy going on border patrols.”

Hollypaw flicked her brother’s ear with her tail. “Don’t be grumpy! I’ve cleaned out my fair share of nests.”

“I guess.” Lionpaw grunted.

“Let’s get this dirty moss out of the camp and gather some fresh.” She picked up a mouthful of the old moss and padded out through the thorn tunnel. Stopping at a bramble bush not far from the entrance, she dropped it.

Lionpaw flung his wad down beside hers. “I’m sick of moss!”

“We’ll be finished in no time,” Hollypaw soothed. “Look!

There’s fresh moss between the roots of that tree.”

Lionpaw joined her as she began clawing pawfuls of soft, green moss away from the rough bark.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” Hollypaw mewed.

Lionpaw sighed. “Sorry. I’ve been in a foul mood since you left. I’m no better than a jealous kit.”

“Well, ask now,” Hollypaw prompted. She was dying to share her news.

“Okay. What happened?” Lionpaw peeled a long strip of moss and let it dangle from his claw.

“Ashfoot turned us back before we got anywhere near the camp.”

Lionpaw dropped the moss. “Turned you back?”

“We didn’t even get a chance to explain,” Hollypaw told him. “They accused us of coming to steal prey.”

“But they’ve been stealing our prey!” Lionpaw was furious.

“I know!” Hollypaw clawed a lump of moss from the root and flung it onto the pile. “But I think we found out why they’re doing it.”

“Who cares why?”

Hollypaw ignored his comment. “Their own prey has disappeared.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“But at least we know what’s wrong now.” We can solve the problem before it spoils everything.

“I hope Firestar sends a patrol to teach them a lesson.”

Hollypaw fought the urge to agree. She must think logi-cally. WindClan had to be stopped from stealing prey, but not weakened. There had to be four strong Clans. “Firestar doesn’t think we should attack them,” she mewed. “He’s just going to post more border patrols.”

Lionpaw lashed his tail. “We’ve done that before. This time we need to show them once and for all that they can’t hunt on our land.” He glared at her so fiercely that Hollypaw found herself leaning away.

“Do you want a battle?” She gasped. Was he even thinking about Clan boundaries?

“Don’t you?”

“I want WindClan to keep to their own territory,” Hollypaw replied. “Boundaries are boundaries.” And if they disappear, what will become of the Clans? Would the warrior code disappear next?

Hollypaw’s pads prickled with fear.

Lionpaw turned away and dug his claws into a fresh patch of moss. The bark shredded beneath it and filled the moss with splinters.

That moss will be used for newborn kits! Hollypaw stared at him, shocked by his recklessness. She could tell by the muscles flex-ing beneath his pelt that he was thinking of battle, not kits.

Was this what power meant to him? The need to fight for the smallest reason?

Hollypaw shivered. If it did, would any cat be able to stop him?

Lionpaw tugged another sprig of moss from his pelt. Hauling the stuff in and out of dens had left his fur itching. His muscles were knotted from the tedious work. Sighing, he watched the sun sliding behind the trees. The sunset patrol had left without him.

What a boring day! Frustrated, he headed to the apprentices’

den. There was nothing left to do but sleep, though he longed to run through the forest, stretch his legs, and feel the wind in his fur.

He ducked under a branch of the low-spreading yew. Inside, Foxpaw and Icepaw were chattering like sparrows.

“Whitewing taught me how to do a roll,” Icepaw boasted.

“I can fight on my hind paws,” Foxpaw countered. “Do you want to watch me?”

Lionpaw realized the young apprentice was talking to him.

Wearily, he nodded and watched Foxpaw rear up on wobbly back legs and stagger around his nest before toppling onto the moss.

“I was better this afternoon!” Foxpaw scrambled to his paws, looking flustered.

“I’m sure you were,” Lionpaw mewed. He was jealous of Foxpaw’s excitement. Since he’d returned from the mountains it seemed as though life were entirely made up of dull chores. It was all very well feeding the Clan and clearing out its dens, but when would he have a chance to use the power he felt pulsing through his paws?

He curled into his nest.

“Look!” Foxpaw called. “I’m doing it properly this time!”

Lionpaw didn’t bother lifting his head.

“Show him your new hunting crouch,” Icepaw encouraged.

Moss rustled, and Lionpaw jerked as Foxpaw pounced on him, grappling with his tail as though it were a snake. Crossly, Lionpaw heaved the apprentice out of his nest with a shove of his hind paws.

“Hey!” mewed Icepaw, protective of her littermate.

“Keep to your own nest and let me sleep!” Lionpaw growled.

“You’re no fun anymore!” Foxpaw sulked.

The yew rustled as Hollypaw padded into the den.

“Lionpaw’s been pushing Foxpaw around!” Icepaw appealed to Hollypaw.

“I can look after myself,” Foxpaw objected.

“I think Lionpaw’s tired,” Hollypaw soothed. “I’m sure he’ll want to play in the morning.”

She curled in beside Lionpaw, and he felt the gentle lap of her tongue on his pelt. Gratefully he let her wash the last scraps of moss from his fur, calmed by the rhythmic licking.

“Cheer up,” she mewed. “Brackenfur just told me we’re both going out on patrol in the morning.”

Lionpaw pricked his ears.

“Firestar’s sending extra patrols to the WindClan border to check for invaders,” she explained.

At last! Lionpaw felt a dark thrill at the thought of confront-ing the prey-thieves.

“We’d better get some sleep,” Hollypaw advised. “We have to be at the border by dawn.”

Lionpaw closed his eyes, relieved that at last he could be useful to his Clan in the only way that made sense.

“Lionpaw!” Tigerstar’s deep yowl roused him. He blinked open his eyes to find himself lying on bare ground, surrounded by close, whispering pine trees.

He was dreaming.

Scanning the gloomy forest, he spotted his nighttime mentor padding from the trees. Hawkfrost was already sitting in the needle-strewn hollow, his amber eyes glowing in the half-light.

“I hope you’re ready,” Tigerstar warned. “I’m going to teach you how to knock any warrior off his paws, no matter how big.” He beckoned Hawkfrost forward with a flick of his striped tail.

Lionpaw stretched his claws. “What do I do?”

“You don’t have the weight yet to overpower every cat,”

Firestar told him. “That will come in time. Until it does, use your size to your advantage. You’ll have to be fast. Dart underneath your enemy’s belly, slashing the back of their forepaws as you go. They’ll twist, expecting you on one side, but you’ll be at the other to catch them off balance.”

“How do I get to the other side before they slash me?”

Lionpaw wondered.

“I told you. Be fast!” Tigerstar padded around Hawkfrost.

“Try it on him.”

Lionpaw dropped into a crouch as Tigerstar stepped out of the way. He focused on the gap beneath Hawkfrost’s white-furred belly, letting energy build in his muscles. Then he shot forward. Darting underneath the long-legged warrior, he drew a paw, claws sheathed, across his forepaws, as Tigerstar had instructed. He felt Hawkfrost twist above him. The warrior was rearing, ready to crash down on him as soon as he emerged. But Lionpaw backed sharply, pulling out the way he had come, like a rabbit backing out of its hole. He hooked his claws into Hawkfrost’s fur, careful not to prick the skin, and dragged Hawkfrost, now unbalanced, down onto the ground.

“Excellent,” Tigerstar purred.

Hawkfrost scrambled to his paws, shaking pine needles from his fur.

Lionpaw lifted his chin and gazed proudly at Tigerstar.

“Not bad, huh?”