Dark River wpot-2, Page 3

  Lionpaw rolled back against her.

  “Lionpaw!” She scrambled to her paws and stared at her brother. Dawn light was filtering through the branches, just enough to give color to the pelts of the sleeping cats.

  Lionpaw’s fur was drenched, as though he had spent the night out in the rain, though he was fast asleep now. Hollypaw sniffed him suspiciously. Perhaps he had just gone out to make dirt and slipped back into the den for more sleep.

  She yawned and stretched, her tail shivering with the effort. She felt cold to the bone. Mousepaw, Berrypaw, and Honeypaw were asleep despite the rain. Poppypaw’s and Hazelpaw’s nests were empty but their scent was fresh; they must have gone out with the dawn patrol.

  “Hollypaw?” Cinderpaw lifted her head and blinked open her eyes. “Did the rain wake you?”

  Hollypaw shook her head. “Lionpaw did,” she mewed.

  “He’s soaking wet.”

  “He’s been out in this?” Cinderpaw rubbed her eyes with a paw.

  “It looks like it.” Hollypaw’s fur was starting to itch with curiosity. This wasn’t the first time Lionpaw had done something weird. He had woken her before dawn only a few days ago, slinking back into the den. He said he’d been out to make dirt, but his fur smelled of leaves, as though he’d been farther into the forest than just the dirtplace. And he’d snapped the answer back as though she was prying. She was sure he was up to something.

  Cinderpaw’s belly began to rumble. “I wonder if there’s any fresh-kill on the pile yet?”

  “There may be some left over from last night,” Hollypaw suggested. “Let’s go and see.”

  She picked her way among the warm bodies of her sleeping Clanmates and peered out of the entrance. She could hardly see the fresh-kill pile. The dawn sky was dark with clouds and the rain was so heavy that mud danced over the clearing.

  Cinderpaw squeezed up beside her. “Let’s make a dash for it.”

  “Okay.” Hollypaw screwed up her eyes and darted out of the den.

  Stormfur and Brook crouched beneath Highledge, sharing a soggy robin beneath the sheltering overhang.

  “This weather’s too wet even for RiverClan!” Stormfur called in greeting.

  Hollypaw paused, blinking the rain from her eyes. “Now I know how fish feel!”

  Cinderpaw scooted past her.

  “Don’t sit there like a startled rabbit, Hollypaw,” Brook urged. “Find shelter!”

  Hollypaw hurried after Cinderpaw and sent up a spray of mucky water as she skidded to a halt by the fresh-kill pile. A few sodden pieces of prey lay plastered in mud. She picked up a sorry-looking mouse and carried it to the shelter of the brambles that crowded one side of the medicine den.

  “Yuck!” Cinderpaw dropped a dripping wren on the ground and shook herself. Hollypaw flattened her ears as the spray showered her.

  “Sorry.” Cinderpaw crouched and took a bite of her wren.

  “This tastes like mud!” she mewed with her mouth full.

  At the entrance to the medicine den, the dripping brambles shivered and Leafpool hurried out, her jaws clutching a bundle of herbs. She dashed across the clearing and disappeared into the nursery.

  “I hope Icekit and Foxkit are okay,” Hollypaw mewed.

  “Daisy was sneezing last night,” Cinderpaw told her. “I think she has a cold.”

  Hollypaw peered up through the brambles at the gray sky.

  “We’ll all have colds if this rain doesn’t stop soon. That, or webbed feet.” It had been nearly a half-moon since the Gathering, and it seemed to have rained every day.

  The rest of the camp was beginning to stir. Thornclaw yawned as he padded around the clearing followed by Dustpelt. As Hollypaw swallowed the last mouthfuls of cold mouse, Firestar emerged from his cave on Highledge and sur-veyed the camp. Brambleclaw darted from the warriors’ den

  and bounded up the rockfall to meet him. The two warriors vanished into Firestar’s cave, their tails low against the rain that hurled against the cliff.

  Mousefur peered out from the honeysuckle-draped bush that formed the elders’ den, before disappearing back inside with a snort of disgust. Graystripe padded from behind the warriors’ den, where he shared a makeshift den with Millie.

  His thick gray pelt was plastered against his body. He picked two birds from the fresh-kill pile and hurried back to his nest.

  Brackenfur emerged from the warriors’ den and stretched, arching his tail and reaching out with his forepaws until his chest touched the ground. Then he straightened and shook himself, fluffing out his golden fur. “Hollypaw?” He peered toward her through narrowed eyes, rain streaming from his whiskers. “Is that you?”

  Hollypaw padded out from the shelter of the brambles. “I was just eating with Cinderpaw,” she greeted him.

  “Well, if you’ve got a full belly, you can come hunting with me.”

  Hollypaw felt a surge of delight. Hunting would warm her up. “Can Cinderpaw come too?” she asked.

  Cinderpaw shook her head. “Cloudtail asked me to clean out the elders’ bedding this morning.”

  “I’ll bring you back a warm mouse if I can,” Hollypaw promised.

  “One without mud, please,” Cinderpaw purred.

  “Come on, Hollypaw.” Brackenfur was already racing for the camp entrance.

  Outside, the forest floor was soaked, the dead leaves slimy and rotten underpaw, but Hollypaw soon began to feel warm as she chased Brackenfur up the steep slope and they headed into the forest. The rain was beginning to ease and for the first time that morning she opened her eyes wide. The trees ahead were thickening and the forest darkened where pines began to grow among the leafless trees. ShadowClan territory lay this way. Hollypaw thought of the new kittens—her kin—in the camp beyond the border. If they shared her blood, would they share her scent as well? Was it blood or Clan that decided scent? How would they tell whose marker was whose?

  “Brackenfur?”

  Brackenfur skidded on the wet leaves and turned to face her, his eyes bright. “Do you smell prey?” he asked hopefully.

  Hollypaw shook her head. “I was just wondering . . . ” She searched for the words to explain the unease that was nagging her.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I was wondering . . . ”

  Brackenfur shook the rain from his whiskers. “What is it, for StarClan’s sake?”

  “If the new kits in ShadowClan are my kin, do I still have to fight them in battle?”

  “Of course, if they threaten your Clan.” Brackenfur turned away and started padding through the forest once more, his nose twitching as he hunted for scent among the wet undergrowth.

  Hollypaw hurried to keep up with him. “But what if my Clan threatens them and I don’t think it’s fair?”

  “Why should we do that?” Brackenfur’s ears pricked and he dropped into a hunting crouch.

  “But just say we did? Shouldn’t I feel some loyalty to kin?”

  “A true warrior is loyal to her Clan above everything.”

  Brackenfur began to knead the ground with his hind paws; he had spotted something ahead and was preparing to pounce.

  But Hollypaw’s mind was hungrier than her belly.

  “You can’t hurt cats that share your blood,” she argued.

  “Does that mean there are more important things than the warrior code?” She blinked in alarm. “If that’s true, then how do we know what’s right—”

  “Hush!” Brackenfur’s hiss silenced her as a leaf trembled a fox-length away and a small brown shape shot away into the safety of its burrow.

  Brackenfur sat up and stared crossly at his apprentice.

  “Why don’t you stop thinking about the warrior code and start following it? Your Clan is hungry and wet. You should be concentrating on feeding them, not on deciding what’s wrong and what’s right!”

  Hollypaw’s tail drooped. He was right. She had scared off prey that could have fed her Clanmates. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  “Now stop
asking questions and find something to take back to camp!”

  Hollypaw hunted even harder than usual and returned to the camp carrying three mice. Brackenfur led her through the

  thorn tunnel, a crow in his jaws. He dropped it on a fresh-kill pile that had already been restocked by another hunting patrol.

  “You did well,” he congratulated her. She felt relieved that she had made up for losing him the mouse. “Now go and get dry in your den,” he advised. “I’ll take food to Mousefur and Longtail.”

  The rain had stopped but the forest was still dripping.

  Hollypaw padded to the apprentices’ den. Inside, the nests were empty except for Lionpaw’s. Hollypaw could see his golden pelt rising and falling gently as he slept. How could he sleep the morning away while everyone else was busy looking after the Clan?

  “Doesn’t Ashfur have any jobs for you?” she called irri-tably.

  “Huh? What?” Lionpaw’s head shot up and he stared, blinking, at her. “Is it dawn already?”

  “It’s halfway to sunhigh!”

  Lionpaw leaped to his paws. His eyes were round with guilt. “Has Ashfur been looking for me?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been out hunting,” Hollypaw answered pointedly. She began tugging at the damp bedding closest to her, pulling at it with her teeth and shaking it to let moisture out and fresh air in. “Why are you so tired anyway?” she asked, her mew muffled by the moss.

  “I didn’t sleep well,” Lionpaw replied.

  Hollypaw glanced at him, but he was staring at the ground, as if avoiding her gaze. “Is there something wrong, Lionpaw?”

  “No,” he mewed quickly.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course!” His mew was tetchy.

  Hollypaw felt a wave of sadness. They used to share everything, but now getting details out of her brother was like trying to pick fleas off a hedgehog. Unless they jumped out by themselves, there was no way she could reach them.

  “Okay, okay! There’s no need to bite my head off!” She started plucking at the moss again.

  Lionpaw padded past her. “I wasn’t biting your head off,”

  he muttered. “But sometimes it’s nice to be able to do stuff without being asked so many questions!” He stalked out of the den, leaving Hollypaw alone.

  She sighed and let the moss she was working on drop to the ground. Perhaps Jaypaw knew what was up with Lionpaw.

  He always seemed to guess what she was thinking. Perhaps he could do the same with Lionpaw. She headed for the medicine den and pushed her way through the brambles.

  Jaypaw was sorting through herbs at the back of the cleft in the rock wall. “I’m busy,” he mewed without looking up.

  “Leafpool wants me to see what herbs we need before she gets back from the nursery.”

  “Are the kits sick?” Hollypaw asked anxiously.

  “Daisy has a cold,” Jaypaw replied. “Nothing serious, but with all this rain, Leafpool wants to treat it before it gets worse.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about Lionpaw,” she ventured.

  “Is he ill?”

  “No.” Hollypaw sat down, wishing Jaypaw would stop

  messing around with the herbs and talk to her properly. “He’s just been so tired lately, and grumpy. Every time I talk to him he practically nips my whiskers off.”

  “How should I know what’s wrong with him?” Jaypaw pushed a pile of dark green leaves together. Hollypaw tried to remember their name—she had, after all, trained as a medicine cat for a while—but she hadn’t a clue.

  “It’s just that you usually know.”

  “You share a den with him,” Jaypaw pointed out. “I’m stuck over here with Leafpool most of the time.” His voice prickled with resentment.

  Hollypaw sat in silence for a moment. On top of worrying about Lionpaw, her dream about Willowpaw was still nagging at the back of her mind. But if Jaypaw wasn’t going to help her work out what was up with Lionpaw, there wasn’t much hope he would care what was bothering her RiverClan friend. And yet . . .

  She decided to try coming at it sideways. Always a good hunting move when stalking tricky prey.

  “Did you speak to Willowpaw at the Gathering?” she asked casually.

  “Not much.”

  “I think she’s worried you don’t like her.”

  “Why do I have to like every cat I meet?” Jaypaw grumbled.

  “Why do you have to dis like every cat you meet?” she shot back. “Willowpaw’s really nice. You don’t have to go out of your way to make her feel uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t make her feel anything.” Jaypaw turned back to his herbs. “She feels what she wants to feel.”

  “Didn’t you think she was feeling anxious at the Gathering?” Hollypaw decided to press on. “Didn’t you think the whole of RiverClan was acting oddly?”

  Jaypaw turned from his herbs. “Perhaps.” His ears were pricked as if Hollypaw had finally said something that interested him.

  “So I didn’t just imagine it?”

  “Imagine what?”

  “That something’s troubling RiverClan?”

  “Do you think there is?” Jaypaw was leaning toward her now.

  “I don’t know.” Hollypaw didn’t want to start a rumor that would make RiverClan look weak. It felt disloyal to her friend. And besides, it might not be true. “Do you?”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  Hollypaw felt a wave of frustration. This conversation was going in circles!

  “But I might be able to find out something when we go to the Moonpool,” Jaypaw went on.

  Of course! The medicine cats would be traveling together to the Moonpool at half-moon. That was only a few days away.

  “If there is something worrying Willowpaw, will you tell me?”

  Hollypaw asked.

  Jaypaw narrowed his eyes. “Sure. I know how I’ll be able to find out.”

  Hollypaw’s pelt began to prick with unease. “I’m not ask

  ing you to spy or anything,” she mewed. “Just let me know if I’m right to worry. . . .”

  “Okay.” Jaypaw shrugged and began pawing at another pile of herbs.

  “Hollypaw!” Brackenfur was calling her from the clearing.

  Feeling slightly relieved, she hurried out of the medicine den. A small patch of blue had opened in the clouds above the hollow.

  “We may as well do some training in the forest while the rain holds off,” Brackenfur meowed. “Cloudtail’s taking Cinderpaw out to explore and I thought we could join them.

  Get to know the territory a bit better.”

  Cinderpaw came bouncing toward them, followed by Cloudtail and Birchfall.

  “Firestar wants us to check out the old fox den,” Birchfall called. “Make sure those fox cubs haven’t returned.”

  Hollypaw shivered. She still remembered the awful day when she and Jaypaw and Lionpaw had set out to chase the fox cubs from the den and had ended up being chased themselves. In his terror, Jaypaw had fallen over the side of the hollow and nearly died.

  “Don’t worry, Hollypaw,” Cinderpaw whispered. “I’ll watch your tail.”

  Hollypaw brushed gratefully against her friend as they padded out of the camp after the three warriors. “And I’ll watch yours.”

  As they neared the narrow glade that sloped down to the den, Hollypaw sniffed the air. Her paws tingled. Fox!

  “Young, female, but it’s stale,” Cinderpaw interpreted, nose twitching.

  “How can you be sure?” Hollypaw asked in surprise. As far as she knew, Cinderpaw had never met a fox, and couldn’t know their scent well enough to distinguish all that.

  Cinderpaw shrugged. “I just know,” she mewed.

  “She’s right about it being stale,” Cloudtail meowed.

  “There’s been no fox here since leaf-fall.”

  Hollypaw glanced at her friend. Cinderpaw sometimes said or did things that suggested she knew more than she let on. But holding back secrets was not like Cinderp
aw. The gray apprentice was usually three paw steps ahead of herself and would rather leap in, whiskers first, than stop and think.

  Perhaps she had been here before and just forgotten.

  Cloudtail was obviously wondering the same. “Have you been here with another patrol?”

  Cinderpaw shook her head. “This is definitely the first time,” she mewed.

  Cloudtail and Brackenfur exchanged glances, and Hollypaw guessed that they were as puzzled as she was.

  An owl screeched far above the hollow, and Hollypaw rolled over in her nest, half-woken by the noise. She stretched her forepaws, feeling for the reassuring warmth of Lionpaw, and found emptiness.

  She blinked open her eyes.

  “Lionpaw?” she hissed under her breath.

  No reply.

  She reached farther into his nest, wondering if he had rolled to the far side but no, he was definitely gone.

  “Are you looking for Lionpaw?” Poppypaw yawned from the other side of his nest. “He left the den a while ago.”

  Hollypaw sat up, her heart racing. Lionpaw had gone missing once too often.

  “Is something wrong?” Poppypaw’s eyes gleamed in the darkness.

  “N-no.” Hollypaw didn’t want to arouse the suspicions of the other apprentices.

  “Has Lionpaw gone to make dirt again?” Cinderpaw’s mew sounded behind her. “It must be that stale old thrush he ate.”

  Hollypaw felt a wave of gratitude toward her friend. She was clearly covering for Lionpaw, stopping Poppypaw from answering any more awkward questions. The thrush had been perfectly healthy, caught fresh that day.

  “I’ll go and check if he’s okay,” Hollypaw mewed.

  She crept from the den and hurried as silently as she could around the edge of the slumbering camp, keeping to the shadows. Lionpaw’s scent led to the entrance, following the same furtive route. Let me find him making dirt, Hollypaw prayed.

  Paw steps sounded behind her.

  Hollypaw froze and glanced over her shoulder.

  “It’s just me.” Cinderpaw’s mew sounded from the darkness, and the gray tabby stepped out of the shadows. “I thought you might want company.”

  “Thanks.” If Lionpaw was really making dirt, there was no harm in Cinderpaw’s knowing, but if he wasn’t and, as

  Hollypaw feared, he was out in the forest, she would be pleased to have a friend with her.