Warriors: Power Of Three 4 - Eclipse (7 page)

“I didn’t mean you two!” Mousewhisker mewed, sounding embarrassed.

“I’m sure Thornclaw and Dustpelt will be pleased to hear that,” Sorreltail teased.

“You won’t tell them?” Mousewhisker squeaked in alarm.

“Of course not!” Sorreltail called over her shoulder as she darted down the slope. “Besides, we’re not old. And once Millie’s kits are born, Graystripe will feel younger than ever.”

Jaypaw hurried after her, enjoying the breeze ruffling his fur. It smelled of the lake.

At the shore, Graystripe paused. “Is this a good place for herbs?”

Jaypaw nodded. “I can get mallow down by the water.”

“Mousewhisker can help you,” Sorreltail volunteered her denmate.

“But what about my—”

“Your squirrel can wait,” Graystripe meowed.

“I guess so.” Mousewhisker swished his tail. “Besides, if we’re going down to the water, I might catch a fish!”

Unlikely, unless you’ve had a RiverClan mentor as well. Jaypaw picked his way down onto the shingle. It shifted satisfyingly beneath his paws.

Mousewhisker padded after him. “The lake’s as smooth as a laurel leaf.”

Jaypaw had guessed that already. He could hear the sound of lazy ripples lapping the shore.

“What does mallow look like?” Mousewhisker asked.

Jaypaw shrugged. “Never seen any.”

Mousewhisker squeaked in dismay. “Sorry!”

“Forget it.” It was just a dumb slip. “It feels soft and kind of furry. The leaves are big.” Jaypaw sniffed the air. He remembered gathering mallow here before. Sure enough, a sweet smell filled his nose. Jaypaw flicked his tail toward the water’s edge. “See that plant over there? That’s mallow.”

“Really?” Mousewhisker sounded impressed.

Jaypaw didn’t bother to reply. His paws had started to tingle. The stick must be just along the shore. “Would you go and gather some leaves?” Jaypaw asked. “There’s something farther up the shore I want to check.”

“Okay.” Mousewhisker began to hurry down to the water.

“How much do you want?”

“As much as you can carry!” Jaypaw veered away, heading along the beach. He padded to the tree line, where twisting roots spilled over onto the pebbles, and sniffed around the gnarled bark until he scented the stick. It was still where he had wedged it, beneath the root of a rowan, safe from the pull of the lake.

He dragged it out, relief flooding his paws as they felt the smoothness of the exposed wood. This was definitely the right stick. Running his pads along its length he felt the familiar scratches. He knew so much more about what they meant than when he had first found it: They marked the successes and failures of countless cats—of Fallen Leaves and his Clanmates. And yet there was so much more to know; this stick only hinted at the lives of the cats who came before him. He wondered about the Clan who had used the tunnels as the test of a warrior. And the Tribe. Were they somehow linked?

Were all Clans, Tribes, whatever, however different, somehow connected?

Mousewhisker was splashing toward him, reeking of mallow. Jaypaw, clumsy with haste, shoved the stick back behind the tree root. The shingle crunched as the warrior climbed the beach.

“What are you doing?” Mousewhisker’s mew was muffled by mallow leaves.

“Just checking something.”

Mousewhisker spat the leaves onto the shore. “A stick?”

“It’s not important,” Jaypaw lied. “It’s medicine cat stuff, nothing you’d understand.” He braced himself for a flurry of questions.

But Mousewhisker simply began scraping the mallow leaves into a pile. “Whatever you say. I’m not an apprentice anymore,”

he meowed. “I’m a warrior—I hunt and fight. I’ll leave the weird medicine stuff up to you.” His mew grew muffled again as he began to gather up the leaves. “I’m just glad I don’t have to remember everything you do.”

You don’t know the half of it. . . .

Graystripe’s mew sounded from up on the bank. “Did you catch your fish, Mousewhisker?”

“No, but I caught some mallow!”

Leaves sprayed Jaypaw as Mousewhisker answered. Jaypaw stifled a frustrated hiss and collected the dropped leaves in his mouth. Then he followed Mousewhisker onto the bank, where Graystripe and Sorreltail were waiting. From the smell of it they’d caught mice. Jaypaw’s belly grumbled, and he wished he’d eaten when he’d had the chance.

“Let’s get these back to camp,” Sorreltail meowed. “It sounds like someone’s hungry.” She turned and darted up the grassy hillside, back toward the forest.

As they topped the ridge and began to head home, Jaypaw halted.

“What is it?” Graystripe asked.

“A patrol, heading this way.” The air was filled with their scent.

A moment later Jaypaw heard Thornclaw and his apprentice, Poppypaw, crashing through the undergrowth. Brightheart and Birchfall were close behind. Excitement pulsed from them.

They burst out of the bushes onto the ridge.

“WindClan have crossed the border!” Brightheart burst out.

Graystripe dropped his mouse. “Are they in ThunderClan territory now?”

“No,” Thornclaw growled. “But the scents are fresh. It looks like they didn’t listen to Firestar’s last warning, and they’ve been hunting in our territory again.”

“Have you remarked the borders?” Graystripe asked.

“We did it straightaway.” Birchfall was pacing agitatedly around his Clanmates.

“Good.” Graystripe’s claws scraped the ground. “We must report this to Firestar at once.”

The camp was wrapped in the same greenleaf sleepiness as the forest, and hardly any cat stirred as the patrol rushed into the clearing.

“Brightheart?” Cloudtail’s dozy mew sounded from outside the warriors’ den. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back,” Brightheart promised as she scrambled up to Highledge after Thornclaw.

Mousewhisker dropped his mouthful of mallow leaves beside Jaypaw. “Can you manage these?” he asked. “I want to go tell Berrynose and Hazeltail what’s happened.”

This was the first crisis since Mousewhisker had been made a warrior. Jaypaw didn’t begrudge him his excitement.

“No problem.”

As Mousewhisker hurried away, Jaypaw dropped his own mouthful of leaves onto the pile and began to bundle them together, ready to take to the medicine cat den.

“Can I help?” Hollypaw was padding toward him.

“Yes, please.” Jaypaw was sick of the taste of mallow.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Hollypaw pawed some leaves into a pile of her own.

“WindClan have crossed the border again.”

Hollypaw’s pelt bristled. “I would have thought after last time . . .”

Jaypaw shrugged. Clearly, rescuing WindClan kits wasn’t enough to appease their increasingly hostile neighbors. He braced himself for an indignant speech about how true warriors respected borders, and was surprised to find something else was on Hollypaw’s mind.

“Cinderpaw just told me her assessment’s tomorrow,” she mewed.

Jaypaw stiffened. So soon? “Has Cinderpaw ever complained about her leg hurting?” he asked quietly.

“What?” Hollypaw leaned in closer. “Why? What’s the matter? She’s better, isn’t she?”

Jaypaw nodded. “Leafpool says she is.”

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about then.” Hollypaw sighed. “I wish I could watch.”

“Cinderpaw’s assessment?” An idea sparked in Jaypaw’s mind.

“Of course!”

Jaypaw thought fast. He could keep an eye on her while she was tested. Check that everything was really all right. “Why don’t we?”

“Watch her assessment?” Hollypaw gasped. “But that’s not allowed, surely?”

“Is that part of the warrior code?”

“What are you two talking about?” Lionpaw padded up behind Hollypaw.

“We were thinking about watching Cinderpaw’s assessment tomorrow,” Hollypaw explained.

“Is that allowed?” Lionpaw echoed his sister.

“I doubt it,” Jaypaw mewed. “But we weren’t planning on announcing it from Highledge.”

“Let’s do it!” Lionpaw decided.

“If anyone catches us,” Hollypaw mewed, “we can say we were just trying to get some tips before our own assessment.

No warrior could object to that.”

Birds chittering in the trees above the hollow woke Jaypaw.

Dawn. He stretched and climbed out of his nest, shivering.

Early morning had brought a chill to the hollow, reminding him that leaf-fall would soon be here. He gave his paws and face a quick wash. The assessment would start early, and he had promised to meet Lionpaw and Hollypaw outside the camp.

“Where are you going?” Leafpool’s mew startled him as he headed for the den entrance.

“I left some leaves behind,” he lied.

“Will you be able to find them by yourself?”

“I was only there yesterday,” he snapped. “I know exactly where to find them. I’m not a mouse-brain.” He figured Leafpool would be too worried about offending him to ask him any more questions.

He padded out of the den and through the thorn tunnel.

Brightheart was guarding the entrance. “You’re out early.”

“I’m fetching herbs for Leafpool.”

“Do you need an escort?”

“No,” Jaypaw mewed quickly. “Thanks.”

“The dawn patrol’s out,” Brightheart informed him. “And the assessment’s going to start soon. So there’ll be plenty of your Clanmates around if you need help.”

“I won’t,” he assured her.

He padded away, relieved that he knew this part of the forest so well. He didn’t want Brightheart to see him fall flat on his nose. He headed up the track until he was sure he was out of sight, then ducked into the bushes. Lionpaw had said to meet by the oak where the mushrooms grew. It would be easy to find; this time of year the mushrooms were strong enough for even a sighted cat to smell. He could detect their musty odor from here, and, treading carefully through the undergrowth, he followed his nose until he felt the peaty soil of the mushroom bed beneath his paws.

There was no sign of Lionpaw and Hollypaw.

Then the stench of dirtplace hit his nose. The bushes rustled beside him.

“Sorry we’re late,” Hollypaw panted.

“We couldn’t think of an excuse for leaving the camp,”

Lionpaw added. “So we sneaked out through the dirtplace tunnel.”

Jaypaw wrinkled his nose. “I can tell.” They smelled stronger than the mushrooms budding around them.

“And I’ve got prickers in my fur,” Hollypaw complained.

“Try rolling in the soil here,” Jaypaw suggested. “It’ll get rid of the smell and the prickers.”

“Good idea!”

Jaypaw leaped backward as Hollypaw sent gritty earth spraying up into his face. “Thanks!” he muttered.

“It was your idea,” she retorted, scrambling to her paws.

She sniffed loudly at her fur. “It worked!”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Jaypaw mewed.

“Let me try.” Lionpaw copied his sister.

“Now you smell like a couple of mushrooms,” Jaypaw complained.

“It’ll be good camouflage,” Hollypaw pointed out.

“Poor Cinderpaw’ll think she’s being stalked by toad-stools,” Lionpaw mewed.

Jaypaw pricked his ears. “Shh!” He could hear the undergrowth rustling in the distance. The scents of Sandstorm, Cloudtail, and Thornclaw drifted on the early-morning breeze.

“Follow me, and keep quiet.”

He began to creep forward as though stalking prey, but a tree root snagged his paw and he stumbled.

“I’ll lead,” Lionpaw whispered. “Tell me which way to go.”

“Straight ahead,” Jaypaw muttered, letting Lionpaw slide past him. “Thornclaw and the others are right in front of us.”

After crawling a few tail-lengths through the undergrowth, Hollypaw tugged on Jaypaw’s tail. “I can hear them,”

she hissed.

Jaypaw had already heard Thornclaw’s deep mew. “I hope you’re ready,” he was telling Poppypaw.

“There’s a bramble bush here,” Lionpaw warned. “Stay close behind me and keep low.”

Ducking, Jaypaw crawled after his brother, feeling the barbs scrape his pelt.

Cloudtail’s voice was clear now. “I know you will all do your best. But remember, you are not competing against one another, only yourselves.”

“You can’t help one another, either,” Sandstorm warned.

“This is a test of your solo hunting skills.”

“And we shall be watching you, though you may not see us,”

Thornclaw meowed.

Lionpaw halted, and Jaypaw wriggled alongside him, feeling the brambles pressing down on his back. Hollypaw pushed in as well. “This is so exciting!”

“Shh!” Lionpaw hissed.

From the sound of it, the warriors and their apprentices were only a foxtail ahead of them. Jaypaw trusted that Lionpaw had chosen a spot where they were still well hidden, and hoped the mushroom dirt was enough to hide their scents.

The air pricked with the excitement of the three apprentices waiting to begin their assessment.

“Cinderpaw can hardly sit still,” Hollypaw commented.

“Poor Honeypaw looks petrified,” Lionpaw whispered.

“But Poppypaw looks as calm as a vixen.”

“Nothing fazes Poppypaw,” Hollypaw mewed.

Hopefulness and determination mingled in the air like meadow scent.

“Good luck,” Thornclaw meowed.

The three warriors melted into the forest, leaving the apprentices alone.

“Where shall I hunt?” Honeypaw mewed nervously.

“Trust your instinct,” Poppypaw advised. “I’m heading this way.”

Jaypaw heard Poppypaw’s paw steps heading toward the bramble where he and his littermates hid. Not daring to back away in case he set the bush shivering, he f lattened himself against the ground. Lionpaw and Hollypaw tensed beside him, holding their breath as Poppypaw’s pelt brushed the leaves of the bush.

Don’t let her see us!

Hollypaw dug her claws into the soft earth.

Shh! Jaypaw stiffened. Then he let out a relieved sigh as the apprentice’s paw steps scuffed away up the slope.

“She’s heading to the shore,” Hollypaw guessed.

“Honeypaw’s going the other way,” Lionpaw mewed.

“What about Cinderpaw?” Jaypaw asked.

“She’s tasting the air.” Hollypaw’s breath tickled Jaypaw’s ear fur. “She must have caught a scent. She’s on the move.”

“Come on,” Lionpaw hissed. “Let’s follow her.” He began crawling out from under the bush.