Warriors: Power Of Three 4 - Eclipse (2 page)

The gesture pricked at Hollypaw’s heart. Squirrelflight still saw them as kits. It would be easier if they still were; kits didn’t have to worry about having more power than their warrior ancestors. But things change, she told herself. She turned away, suddenly anxious. Would there come a time when Squirrelflight would be afraid of her own kits?

“What’s ruffling your pelt?” Lionpaw asked.

Hollypaw licked the fur prickling on her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.” She nodded toward the copse. “Let’s hunt.”

She padded to the front of the boulder and let her paws slide over the edge. It was a short, steep drop, but the grass below looked like it would make a soft landing. She leaped. As she landed, a flurry of fur and paws knocked the breath from her body and sent her flying. Who’s attacking me? Gasping, she scrambled to her paws and prepared to defend herself.

“Why did you get in the way?”

Breezepaw!

The black WindClan apprentice was shaking out his fur beside her. “I almost had that mouse!”

“Sorr—” she began to apologize, then bristled. Why didn’t the dumb furball look where he was going? “I thought we were supposed to be hunting over there!” She flicked her tail toward the copse.

“I decide where I hunt!” Breezepaw snapped. He glanced up at Lionpaw, who was peering over the edge of the boulder.

“At least I was hunting and not sitting around chatting with my denmates.”

“Your denmates wouldn’t want to sit around and chat with you even if they were here!” Hollypaw retorted. She felt instantly guilty. Even though he was as bad-tempered as his father and twice as smug, she had begun to feel sorry for Breezepaw. Crowfeather treated his son with such scorn that Breezepaw sometimes seemed a loner among his own Clanmates.

Lionpaw jumped down beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Of course she is!” Breezepaw snorted. “She’d be even better if she were hunting like she’s supposed to, instead of getting in my way. The sooner we get this fresh-kill, the better. Then we can go home.”

It had been obvious from the start that Breezepaw hadn’t wanted to come to the mountains. And Crowfeather hadn’t acted like he was glad to have him along. He didn’t seem proud of anything Breezepaw did, unlike Brambleclaw, who made Hollypaw feel like the best warrior in ThunderClan when he praised her. Compassion welled in her chest as she looked at the miserable WindClan apprentice. “We’ll be back at the lake before long,” she mewed gently.

Breezepaw glared at her. “Why do we have to find fresh-kill for the Tribe, anyway? Why can’t they hunt for themselves?”

The compassion evaporated. Hollypaw wondered if she should remind Breezepaw that the Tribe cats were exhausted by their recent battle, and that prey was scarcer than ever in the mountains because of the gang of rogues who had invaded their land and forced them to set borders around their hunting grounds. But if he didn’t know that already, she wasn’t going to waste her breath. Let him figure it out. All she wanted now was to be back home, warm in her nest with a full belly and her denmates sleeping peacefully around her. She glanced at her brother. Would he set Breezepaw straight?

But Lionpaw just rolled his eyes at the WindClan apprentice. “Go catch a rabbit.” He snorted and stomped away across the grass.

Breezepaw curled his lip. “ThunderClan cats think they’re so special,” he sneered before stalking down the slope.

Hollypaw hurried after her brother. He was muttering under his breath as she caught up to him.

“I wish I had the power to shut that furball up once and for all!”

Is he joking? Hollypaw looked sideways to see if Lionpaw’s eyes were shining with their usual good humor, but they were half closed in a frown. She skipped in front of him and blocked his path. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

Lionpaw flicked his tail. “Of course not,” he grumped. “I’m just tired.”

“But do you think that’s what ‘the power of the stars’

means?” Hollypaw persisted. “The power to make any cat do what we want?”

Lionpaw shrugged but didn’t meet her gaze. “I suppose,” he answered. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You must have!”

Lionpaw padded around her and kept going for a few moments before he spoke again. “I hope it will make me stronger than any other cat, so that I can always win battles.”

He paused. “What about you?”

“I hope it means I’ll know things other cats don’t.”

“Like what?” Mischief lit his gaze. “How to speak to Twolegs?”

“Don’t be stupid!” Hollypaw’s claws itched with impatience. “I mean the power to understand”—she groped for the words to explain—“everything,” she mewed at last.

Lionpaw nudged her shoulder affectionately. “Is that all?”

Hollypaw flicked him away. “You know what I mean.”

They had almost reached the trees before Lionpaw spoke again. “Perhaps each of us will feel the power differently,” he ventured. “Jaypaw can already tell what cats are thinking, can’t he?” He caught Hollypaw’s eye. “He does it to you, right?”

Hollypaw nodded.

“Leafpool can’t do that,” Lionpaw went on. “None of the medicine cats can. Jaypaw is already making predictions about trouble in other Clans, too. That must be his power—to see things other cats can’t.”

“He’s the least blind of us all,” Hollypaw murmured, feeling her pelt prickle the way it did when Jaypaw said exactly what was running through her mind.

Thick foliage grew at the edge of the wood, and she halted to let Lionpaw take the lead. “Have you felt anything yet?” she ventured as he began to nose his way into the bushes.

To her surprise, Lionpaw spun around to face her. His eyes glittered with a strange intensity. “At the start of our journey, we stopped on the ridge to look down on the lake, remember?

Then you went off to catch prey and rest, but I wasn’t hungry.”

He blinked. “As I was looking at the territories, I started to feel . . . well, kind of strange.”

Hollypaw leaned forward. “Strange? How?”

“I felt like I could do anything!” Her brother’s eyes f lashed.

“Run to the farthest horizon without getting tired, fight any enemy and win, face any battle without being afraid.”

Hollypaw shifted on her paws and realized that she was backing away from him. Something about him suddenly made her feel uncomfortable: the way he had tensed his shoulders so that he looked more powerful than before, the faraway look in his eyes, as though he could see beyond her, beyond the woods, to some distant place where he could take on enemies single-pawed. She thought back to how he had fought for the Tribe; how he had come staggering out of the battle covered in blood—none of it his own—still ready to fight until there were no cats left standing.

The fire in his eyes sent a shiver through her pelt.

How could she be scared of her own brother?

Jaypaw touched his nose to Tawnypelt’s pad. It felt hot and fat. “Swollen,” he pronounced. “The skin’s grazed but not bleeding. But you already know that.” He could hear Hollypaw’s and Lionpaw’s faint mews as they headed away to find prey. Were they talking about the prophecy?

Tawnypelt pulled her paw from under his muzzle. “I knew I couldn’t taste blood, but I wasn’t sure if a stone had worked its way in.” She licked it. “My pads have grown so hard from the mountains, I can’t tell calluses from cuts anymore.”

“No stones,” Jaypaw reassured her. He nodded toward the sound of water babbling over rocks nearby. “That stream doesn’t sound too deep. Go stand in it. The water should ease the swelling.”

He padded after her and heard the splash as she leaped into the water.

She gasped. “It’s cold!”

“Good,” he mewed. “It’ll take down the swelling quicker.”

He pricked his ears. Hollypaw’s and Lionpaw’s voices had faded into the distance. At last he had shared with them the secret he had kept to himself for so long. Telling it had felt like walking through unknown territory, each word falling like a paw step on uncertain ground. Lionpaw had accepted it as though something that had been confusing him had finally been explained. Hollypaw’s reaction had been more frustrating: She only seemed concerned about how they could use their powers to help ThunderClan, and kept fretting about the warrior code. Didn’t she understand that the prophecy meant more than that? They had been given a power that stretched far beyond the boundaries set by ordinary cats.

Tawnypelt’s mew interrupted his thoughts. “This water’s very cold.”

“It’s mountain water.”

“I can tell,” Tawnypelt meowed urgently. “My paws have gone numb!”

“Well, get out then.”

With a gasp of relief, she landed beside him and began shaking the water from her paws, scattering icy drops on his fur.

Jaypaw shivered and moved away; mountain winds and cold water were a bad mix. “Does your paw still hurt?”

“I can’t feel it at all,” Tawnypelt replied. She paused. “Actually, I can’t feel any of my paws.”

Squirrelflight was padding toward them. “Any better?”

“I think so,” Tawnypelt meowed.

Jaypaw felt his mother’s tongue lap his ear. “Are you okay, little one?” she asked gently.

He ducked away, scowling. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“It’s okay to be tired.” Squirrelflight sat down. “It’s been a hard journey.”

“I’m fine,” Jaypaw snapped. His mother’s tail was twitching, brushing against the gritty rock. He waited for her to make some comment about how much harder the journey must have been for him, being blind and all, and then add some mouse-brained comment about how well he had coped with the unfamiliar territory.

“All three of you have been quiet since the battle,” she ventured.

She’s worried about all of us! Jaypaw’s anger melted. He wished he could put her mind at rest, but there was no way he could tell her the huge secret that was occupying their thoughts . “I guess we just want to get home,” he offered.

“We all do.” Squirrelflight rested her chin on top of Jaypaw’s head, and he pressed against her, suddenly feeling like a kit again, grateful for her warmth.

“They’re back!”

At Tawnypelt’s call, Squirrelflight jerked away.

Jaypaw lifted his nose and smelled Hollypaw and Lionpaw.

He heard claws scrabbling over rock as Breezepaw arrived.

The hunters had returned.

“Let’s see what they’ve caught!” Tawnypelt hurried to greet the apprentices.

Jaypaw already knew what they’d caught. His belly rumbled as he padded after her, the mouthwatering smells of squirrel, rabbit, and pigeon filling his nose. If only it weren’t going to be given to the Tribe.

Crowfeather and Brambleclaw were already clustered around the makeshift fresh-kill pile. Stormfur and Brook hung back as though embarrassed by the gift.

“This rabbit’s so fat it’ll feed all the to-bes,” Squirrelflight mewed admiringly.

“Well caught, Breezepaw,” Tawnypelt purred.

Jaypaw waited for the WindClan apprentice’s pelt to flash with pride, but instead he sensed anxiety claw at Breezepaw.

He’s waiting for his father to praise him.

“Nice pigeon,” Crowfeather mewed to Lionpaw.

Breezepaw stiffened with anger.

“And look at the squirrel I caught!” Hollypaw chipped in.

“Did you ever see such a juicy one?”

“Come see!” Tawnypelt called to Stormfur and Brook.

The two warriors padded over.

“This will be very welcome,” Stormfur meowed formally.

“The Tribe thanks you.” Brook’s mew was taut.

Jaypaw understood their unease. By accepting fresh-kill, they were openly admitting their weakness. Hunting was poor in the mountains now that two groups of cats were sharing the territory. And yet Jaypaw could feel fierce pride pulsing from Stormfur. The mountain breeze stirs his heart as well as his pelt.

There was a core of strength within him, a resolve that Jaypaw had not sensed before, as though he were more rooted in the crags and ravines than he ever had been beside the lake. He truly believes that this is his destiny. The Tribe were Stormfur’s Clan now. He had been born RiverClan, and lived with ThunderClan, but now it seemed that he had found his true home.

Jaypaw shivered. The wind had been sharpened by a late-afternoon chill.

A howl echoed from the slopes far above.

Brook bristled. “Wolves.”

“We’ll get this prey home safely,” Stormfur reassured her.

“The wolves are too clumsy to follow our mountain paths.”

“But there’s a lot of open territory before you reach them,”

Brambleclaw urged. “You should go.”

“We should all head home,” Crowfeather advised. “The smell of this fresh-kill will be attracting all the prey-eaters around here.”

Alarm flashed from every pelt as Jaypaw detected a strange tang on the breeze. It was the first wolf scent he’d smelled. It reminded him of the dogs around the Twoleg farm, but there was a rawness to it, a scent of blood and flesh that the dogs did not carry. He was thankful it was faint. “They’re a long way off,” he murmured.

“But they travel fast,” Brook warned. The rabbit’s fur brushed the ground as she picked it up.

“We’re going to miss you,” Squirrelflight meowed. Her voice was thick with sadness.

Brook laid the rabbit down again, a purr rising in her throat.

Her pelt brushed Squirrelflight’s. “Thank you for taking us in and showing us such kindness.”

“ThunderClan is grateful for your loyalty and courage,”

Brambleclaw meowed.

“We’ll see you again, though, won’t we?” Hollypaw mewed hopefully.

Jaypaw wondered if he would ever return to the mountains. Would he meet the Tribe of Endless Hunting again?

He had followed Stoneteller into his dreams and been led by the Tribe-healer’s ancestor to the hollow where ranks of starry cats encircled a shimmering pool. He shivered as he recalled their words: You have come. They had been expecting him, and they had known about the prophecy! Yet again, Jaypaw wondered where the prophecy had come from, and how the Tribe of Endless Hunting were connected to his own ancestors.

“There’s no more time for good-byes!” Crowfeather’s mew was impatient.

“Take care, little one.” Brook’s cheek brushed Jaypaw’s before she turned to say good-bye to Hollypaw.