Cloudstar's Journey, Page 2

  The three cats whirled around to see a dark brown tom with yellow eyes standing on the path. His thick coat was underlaid with soft black fur, so that he looked as though he were outlined in shadow. Cloudstar pricked his ears. “Duskstar!” he meowed.

  Duskstar dipped his head. “Greetings, Cloudstar. I trust you haven’t forgotten the life that I gave to you? To have faith in your instincts, and know that your word is law?”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Cloudstar promised.

  The brown tom looked at the other two cats. “Maplestar, Rowanstar, it is rare that we three meet in this woods. We are all part of the noble history of SkyClan, but it is thanks to me that the leaders of all five Clans know that their judgment is final, that their word goes unchallenged. Cloudstar, you must use this power wisely, for the good of your Clan rather than personal gain. Learn to lead from our examples, and your path will be clear and straight.”

  Cloudstar bowed. “I am honored to follow in your paw steps.” He looked down at his paws. I have to ask! “Duskstar, did you ever regret giving ThunderClan that strip of forest?”

  There was a heartbeat of silence, and Rowanstar looked aghast. Then Duskstar said quietly, “Wherever our heart lies, we have a duty to preserve the survival of all five Clans in the forest. I could not watch our neighbors starve when we had prey to spare.” The brown tom went on. “Hold your head high, Cloudstar. SkyClan is the noblest of all the Clans, with the strongest borders, the bravest warriors, and the most skillful hunters. You have nothing to fear from Twolegs, or their monsters, or the animals they have bent to their will. SkyClan will endure forever!”

  The clouds above the trees seemed to sink through the branches until Cloudstar was surrounded by mist. The cats around him blurred and faded, their pelts vanishing against the background of leaves and trunks. Then Cloudstar felt soft feathers tickling his nose in time with his breathing, and heard the rustle of dry moss as he stirred.

  “Cloudstar? Are you awake?” A small tabby she-cat, her striped fur the color of bracken in leaf-fall, was peering down at him. The scent of herbs hung on to her pelt, and there was a scrap of tansy clinging to her whiskers.

  “Fawnstep?” Cloudstar scrambled to sit up. “Is Birdflight okay? Is there something wrong?”

  The medicine cat took a step back, giving Cloudstar room to climb out of his nest. “Birdflight is fine,” she purred. “I wanted to speak with you about something else.”

  Cloudstar shook his pelt to dislodge a piece of moss, then led the way into the clearing. The dawn was clear and still, promising a warm day full of prey-scent and stable branches for climbing. “What is it?” Cloudstar asked, turning back to Fawnstep.

  She ducked her head. “I’d rather speak outside the camp, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, okay.” Cloudstar twitched his tail, inviting her to go first. They squeezed under the brambles and emerged into a glade of silver birches, whose cobweb-colored leaves whispered in the softest breath of wind. Fawnstep pushed her way through the long grass that grew between the slender gray trunks and headed deeper into the woods. Cloudstar trotted after her.

  “Don’t go too far, or we’ll run into the dawn patrol,” he warned.

  Fawnstep stopped beside a tree stump and sat down, curling her tail over her paws. “There have been omens,” she began.

  Instantly Cloudstar tensed. “What kind of omens?”

  Fawnstep looked serious. “I think these signs involve what the Twolegs are doing on the edge of our border. I think SkyClan is more threatened by them than we realize.”

  Cloudstar thought of his dream, and knew he would be able to reassure Fawnstep, whatever she was worrying about, but he wanted to hear her speak first. “Tell me what you have seen.”

  “Yesterday, in the fresh-kill pile, there was a blackbird with no head. The day before, I found a sparrow with no wings, and later a squirrel without a tail.” The medicine cat’s voice was high-pitched with alarm, and her blue eyes were huge.

  Cloudstar shrugged. “The apprentices must be hunting clumsily. I’ll have a word with them later.”

  Fawnstep shook her head. “I’ve already spoken to them. They told me the prey was in one piece when they caught it.”

  “So what do you think it means?” Cloudstar prompted. He still felt untroubled, boosted by the memory of his dream with three noble leaders assuring him that SkyClan would survive forever.

  “Our prey is being diminished, made smaller,” Fawnstep meowed. She traced a circle in the leaf mulch with her front paw, then sliced across it, cutting it in half. “Our hunting is getting smaller—literally, from what we find in the fresh-kill pile to the places we can hunt.”

  “You mean, because of what the Twolegs are doing?”

  Fawnstep nodded. “The noise and stench have scared off the prey already. And we don’t know what the Twolegs are doing there. What if they cross our boundary and start to take over our territory? We know they don’t respect scent marks.”

  Cloudstar rested the tip of his tail on Fawnstep’s shoulder. “There’s no reason to believe that will happen. Trust me. I walked with other SkyClan leaders in StarClan last night, and they promised that no harm will come to us. I appreciate you telling me this, but I’m sure it’s just a sign that we need to take more care with our hunting.”

  He turned to go, and Fawnstep stood up behind him. As he walked away, she called out, “I’ll keep looking, Cloudstar. Something is coming, I fear.”

  As Cloudstar entered the circle of birch trees, the long grass rippled and Birdflight sat up. Crushed grass showed where she had been sprawling on her side, basking in a beam of sunlight. Cloudstar trotted over and rubbed his muzzle against her shoulder. “How are those wriggly little ones today?” he murmured.

  “Alive and kicking!” Birdflight replied, sounding breathless. “It helps to walk, sometimes. Will you come with me?”

  “Of course,” mewed Cloudstar. “But we’re not going far. I don’t want to have to carry you back!”

  “Cheeky fox!” Birdflight scolded, flicking him with her tail.

  They padded out of the birches and walked through the trees toward the river. The undergrowth thinned as the ground sloped down to the water. Birdflight settled herself on a patch of soft grass and Cloudstar sat beside her. The water flowed swiftly past, too deep for wading—not that any SkyClan cat would willingly get their paws wet.

  “Our kits will love playing here when they’re old enough to leave camp,” Birdflight commented, gazing around the flat, sandy shore.

  Cloudstar nodded to a rock that stood at the edge of the beach. “I remember jumping off that for the first time when I was a new apprentice. I thought I was flying!”

  “Until you bumped your head and went wailing back to the camp,” Birdflight put in. She was several moons older than him, and had been a warrior already when he was made an apprentice.

  “It didn’t put me off for long, though,” Cloudstar retorted. “I came back the next day and landed on the far side of that tree stump!” He rested his front paw on Birdflight’s bulging flank. “I’ll teach our kits to keep trying, even if things go wrong at first. They’re going to be so brave.”

  “Just like you,” purred Birdflight.

  “And kind and smart like you,” Cloudstar murmured, burying his nose in her soft fur.

  “Well, we can only hope so,” Birdflight teased. She rolled over and sat up, looking straight into Cloudstar’s eyes. “I am very proud to be having your kits,” she whispered. “No cat could wish for a better father than you.”

  “Or a better mother than you,” Cloudstar replied. He closed his eyes to drink in her scent, and as he did he felt the stirrings of warrior ancestors around him, wishing him well and watching over him, his mate, and his kits forever.

  CHAPTER 3

  Cloudstar crouched down, balancing his weight on his haunches as his hind claws sank into the soft bark. Then he pushed hard and thrust upward, reaching out with his forepaws for the branch above. His cl
aws slid for a heartbeat, then gripped the tree limb and held his weight just long enough for him to swing his hindquarters up and climb onto the branch.

  “Whoa! Way to go, Cloudstar!” chirped a voice far below.

  “Seriously? ‘Way to go, Cloudstar!’ He’s our leader, don’t you know?” snapped a different voice.

  “Sorry, Cloudstar!” called the first cat. “I was just really impressed!”

  Cloudstar suppressed an amused purr as he steadied himself in the tree and looked down at the apprentices below. He loved these sessions with his young Clanmates, when he got to indulge his love of climbing—sometimes so fast that it felt like flying—while teaching them a few of his favorite tricks. Cloudstar always sent the mentors off on a hunting patrol, leaving him alone with the apprentices so he could see for himself their excitement, the moment their nerves about being so high up gave way to delight in the power it gave them over their prey and their enemies.

  “Okay, Tansypaw,” he meowed down to the cream she-cat, who was standing on her hind legs with her front paws resting on the trunk of the tree. “Since you were watching so closely, why don’t you join me?”

  “Yeah, and give us all some peace down here,” muttered her brother Snailpaw.

  “Snailpaw and Mintpaw can follow whichever route you choose,” Cloudstar added, making Tansypaw shoot a triumphant glance over her shoulder at her littermates. There’s plenty of time for you to learn to control your high spirits, Cloudstar thought. Let’s make use of them now to give you courage that might be lacking in the others.

  Sure enough, Snailpaw and Mintpaw moved more slowly toward the tree, their neck fur ruffled and their eyes huge and serious. Snailpaw’s dark brown pelt merged with the bark as he found his first paw holds just above his head; Mintpaw’s fur glowed pale gray in the shadows. The leaves just below Cloudstar shook frantically, and Tansypaw emerged, clinging to the trunk, her ears flat with the effort.

  “Move onto that branch there,” Cloudstar instructed, pointing with his tail. “Then you’ll be able to jump up to me.”

  Tansypaw blinked, then reached out with one front paw and rested it on the branch.

  “Unsheathe your claws again,” meowed Cloudstar. “You’ll need them for gripping.” He ran his own smooth pad over the branch. He often climbed claws-sheathed now, for extra speed and to prove to himself that he could. After all, squirrels don’t have claws like ours!

  Tansypaw was just gathering herself to jump when Snailpaw and Mintpaw scrabbled up the trunk. “Be careful,” Tansypaw yelped. “You’re shaking my branch!”

  “Pretend it’s the wind,” Cloudstar suggested. “You have to learn to climb in all kinds of weather, otherwise we’d go hungry every time there was a breeze!”

  Tansypaw gritted her teeth and leaped toward Cloudstar, legs flailing. He stepped backward and grabbed the young cat’s scruff as she scrabbled madly for the branch. He hauled her next to him, waiting until she had found her balance.

  “Wow! That was easy!” Tansypaw puffed. Cloudstar disentangled his jaws from her neck fur and nodded.

  By now, Snailpaw and Mintpaw had made it onto the lower branch. Cloudstar instructed them to jump one by one, then braced himself to catch them when they leaped close enough. Snailpaw jumped too high, and Tansypaw had to grab his tail to stop him from slithering straight over the branch and down into empty air. Mintpaw made a much neater leap and landed without Cloudstar’s help. The pale gray she-cat purred in delight.

  “Right,” Cloudstar meowed. “Let’s head for the next tree.”

  “But we’ve only just climbed this one,” Snailpaw protested. “I don’t want to go down again straight away.”

  Cloudstar twitched his ears. “Who said anything about going down again? Our enemies would pounce on us! We’re going to practice branch-skipping!”

  Snailpaw’s eyes bulged, but Tansypaw danced excitedly. “Yes! I’ve always wanted to learn how to do that!”

  Snailpaw let out a yelp as the branch bounced. “Stop jiggling, Tansypaw!” he shrieked.

  Cloudstar stepped forward and steadied the young cat against his shoulder. “You’re okay, Snailpaw. Tansypaw, remember that the branch is more sensitive to your weight the farther you go from the trunk. You can bounce your enemies off, but not your Clanmates!”

  Once Snailpaw had found his balance again, Cloudstar jumped onto the next branch up. “I’ll show you how to cross to the nearest tree, and you follow from where you are.” He felt three pairs of eyes scorching his gray-and-white pelt as he stepped carefully to the end of the branch. It was thinner than the one below, and for a moment Cloudstar felt his belly lurch as the limb dipped toward the ground. Then it steadied, and he took a deep breath, fixing his eyes on the next tree.

  “Look for a branch that is at least as thick as the one you’re on,” he told the apprentices. “And without too many twigs or leaves, because they could get in your way. Most of all, be realistic. You’re not going to be able to jump farther up here than you can on the ground. When you get it right, it will feel like flying, but as far as I know, cats have never had wings!”

  He gently let out his breath, then sprang forward, stretching out his front legs toward the closest twigs. It was an easy jump—he didn’t want to scare the apprentices in their first lesson—and he landed lightly with all four paws on the new perch. He spun around and nodded to the young cats staring anxiously from the other tree. “Come on!”

  Tansypaw went first. She screwed up her face in concentration until her pink nose almost disappeared in cream-colored fur. Then she launched herself out of the tree, hung briefly in midair, and slammed into the neighboring branch. Cloudstar braced himself to leap down and help her, but Tansypaw managed to dig her claws into the bark and haul herself onto the tree.

  “I did it!” she yowled triumphantly.

  “Excellent!” meowed Cloudstar. “Snailpaw, now it’s your turn. Look at the place where you’re going to land, that’s right. Keep your eyes fixed there…and jump!”

  The dark brown tabby flew out of the tree as if all the cats in ThunderClan were chasing him and made a desperate grab for the end of Tansypaw’s branch. For a moment he dangled from his front paws, his hind legs swinging into space, but with a grunt of determination he swung his back feet underneath him and scrambled onto the branch.

  “Great!” called Cloudstar. Even Tansypaw looked impressed.

  Finally it was Mintpaw’s turn. Cloudstar watched her closely; she was smaller than her littermates, so this was going to feel like a bigger jump. Staring at the end of the branch until her eyes almost crossed, Mintpaw sprang into the air with a tiny squeak. Tansypaw and Snailpaw shuffled out of her way as she landed next to them, balanced almost perfectly on all four paws.

  “Wow! That was awesome!” Tansypaw mewed. Mintpaw looked thrilled.

  Cloudstar jumped down to join them. “Ready for some fun?” he challenged. “Watch where I go, give each other time to land, and if you don’t feel like you can do any of the jumps, there’s no shame in letting me know, and we can all go down to the ground again. It’s not a competition or an assessment.”

  Three small heads nodded at him. Cloudstar wriggled around to the far side of the trunk and gazed into the trees, judging where to head next. There was a pine tree close by, but the apprentices weren’t ready to do battle with those spiky needles just yet, so Cloudstar aimed for a young oak tree with thick, well-spaced branches. He checked once to make sure the others were following, then thrust himself into the air. I feel sorry for the other Clans. Who’d want to be trapped on the ground all the time, never knowing the rush of air through your fur or the sight of the forest spreading out around you?

  The three cats followed, one by one, this time looking more confident as they landed beside him. “Oak bark is particularly good for paw holds,” Cloudstar explained as he trotted along the branch. “It has deeper grooves than birch, for example, which can feel like ice, especially if it’s wet.”

  In a series o
f joyous, soaring leaps, he led the apprentices around the edge of the pine forest, close to the boundary where the Twolegs were moving earth. The air was thick with noise and tremors from the yellow monsters, and Mintpaw squealed in alarm when one of them loomed out of the trees below them, churning along the ground with strange, elongated paws.

  “Get back against the trunk!” Cloudstar ordered. There was nothing to suggest that the yellow monster was hunting cats, but he didn’t want to take any chances. The cats were in a sycamore tree now, with broad green leaves that offered good cover. Cloudstar waited until the apprentices were pressed against the trunk, then curled his body around them, facing out. He’d wait until the yellow monster had passed before taking them to the next tree.

  Suddenly the roaring of the monster got even louder, and the tree began to tremble. “What’s happening?” yelped Snailpaw.

  “The monster must be stuck,” Cloudstar meowed, trying to peer down through the leaves. He could see the yellow shape directly below, its paws flinging up mud and leaves as they churned on the spot. As Cloudstar leaned over, the tree shuddered so violently that he lost his grip and started to plunge headfirst off the branch. There was a searing pain in his haunches as all three apprentices sank their teeth into his fur and dragged him back up.

  “Cloudstar!” gasped Mintpaw. “You nearly fell!”

  The tree was swaying now, and shaking so hard that leaves were starting to fall around them. “We need to get out of here!” Cloudstar panted. “Follow me!”

  He began to pull himself along the branch, keeping three sets of claws dug into the bark while he moved one foot at a time. The closest tree to them was a fir; the apprentices would have to learn about the dangers of prickly needles sooner than Cloudstar had hoped. Halfway to the end of the branch, the tree lurched sideways. Behind him, the apprentices shrieked in terror. Cloudstar looked down and saw the ground looming toward him. The tree was falling!

  “Hold on to the trunk!” he yowled, slithering around and hurtling back to the others in a single stride. Whimpering, the young cats clung to the trunk with their front paws. Cloudstar hung on to the branch and tried to keep the apprentices in place with his body. The tree hovered in the air for a moment as if it was trying to resist, then plunged downward with a dreadful crashing of branches. Cloudstar’s branch hit the ground and folded in on itself, swallowing him in leaves and twigs with a deafening roar. Cloudstar felt his claws being yanked out of the bark, and the world went black around him.