The Forgotten Warrior

  Striding across to him, Hawkfrost thrust his muzzle into Darkstripe’s face. “Stay back with the others!” he hissed.

  Darkstripe crept away, dragging his tail.

  Ivypool looked around the clearing. She recognized Redwillow and Tigerheart from ShadowClan, and dropped her eyes quickly before Tigerheart noticed her watching him. Breezepelt had joined his Clanmate Sunstrike, and Hollowflight was pushing his way through the cats toward Icewing and Beetlewhisker.

  Ivypool’s belly lurched when she saw Birchfall and Blossomfall standing at the edge of the crowd; they hadn’t spotted her. It still made her sick to think of her own father visiting the Dark Forest.

  How can he stand here? And Blossomfall? she wondered. They aren’t evil! They must know what’s going to happen!

  Brokenstar stepped forward and the murmur of voices in the clearing faded to silence. “You have trained well,” he told the gathered cats. “And now it is nearly time!”

  Ivypool’s pelt tingled. He’s going to tell us exactly what he intends to do to the lake Clans! Once every cat finds out the truth, I bet they’ll rebel! Or at least not come back to the Dark Forest. She knew that most of the living cats there didn’t hate their Clans. They wouldn’t want to hurt their Clanmates. Will Brokenstar really tell the truth? Then the power of the Dark Forest will be destroyed. . . .

  “Soon you will have a chance to prove your skill, strength, and loyalty,” Brokenstar went on, his gaze raking the cats like claws. “Your Clanmates here will honor you, and so will your Clanmates beside the lake. You will prove yourselves to be the greatest warriors ever.”

  Ivypool saw that the listening cats were nodding, their expressions proud and eager. She wanted to yowl, “No! Can’t you see? He’ll make you attack your own kin!”

  But she knew that would be a big mistake. Brokenstar wouldn’t let me survive another two heartbeats. And then all these visits, all the information I have learned, would be for nothing.

  She spotted Breezepelt, whose eyes were gleaming; she guessed that he knew exactly what was going on. He was digging his claws into the marshy ground, as if he were imagining ThunderClan cats beneath his paws. Ivypool’s tail-tip twitched in frustration as she realized that none of the cats around her were going to question Brokenstar. He hadn’t given them any real instructions, just vague promises of glory. Even the Dark Forest cats seemed willing just to wait for further orders.

  “He’s not even telling us when this will be,” she muttered to herself.

  Too late she realized that some of the cats nearby had heard her murmur, and were turning shocked gazes on her.

  “You shouldn’t doubt Brokenstar’s decisions,” a white she-cat mewed. “Don’t you trust him?”

  Ivypool dipped her head, her fur hot with annoyance that she had made such a mouse-brained error. “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Go back to your training,” Brokenstar continued from the pile of tree trunks, “and be ready for the final signal. It will come soon.”

  He and the other leaders jumped down from the fallen trees and the ranks of cats began to file into the shadows. Ivypool wriggled through the crowd, craning her neck to look for Hawkfrost. Finally she spotted him; he had seen her, too, and was beckoning to her with his tail. Shouldering her way through the crush of bodies, Ivypool reached his side.

  “I want to speak to Brokenstar,” she announced.

  “He’s busy,” Hawkfrost replied, angling his ears to where Brokenstar and the other leaders were talking quietly together at the foot of the pile of tree trunks.

  “But this is important,” Ivypool insisted.

  Hawkfrost twitched his whiskers. “Do you have information we should know about?”

  “No,” Ivypool answered, thinking fast. “I-I just want to know what I have to do to be treated like a warrior. I don’t want to fight at the back, where cowards hide. I want to be at the head of the attack, doing the most that I can to help my Dark Forest Clanmates.”

  Hawkfrost blinked, looking impressed. “I knew you were special,” he meowed. “I’m glad I chose you. Come with me.” He turned and led the way toward the senior warriors. “Excuse me, Brokenstar,” he murmured. “My apprentice wants a word with you.”

  Mapleshade let out a furious hiss at the interruption, her amber eyes glaring at Ivypool. But to Ivypool’s surprise Tigerstar beckoned her forward with a jerk of his massive head. “You can say what you have to say in front of all of us,” he mewed.

  As she took a deep breath, Ivypool felt Brokenstar’s piercing stare burn her pelt. She tried not to flinch. He challenged my loyalty when Flametail wandered into the Dark Forest, she remembered. Oh, StarClan, let him believe me now!

  She was aware, too, of other cats around her, hanging back from those who were filing into the trees. They were gazing at her in awe that a mere apprentice should dare to address the most senior cats in the Dark Forest.

  This is the most important thing I will ever do for ThunderClan.

  “Make me a warrior,” she meowed to Brokenstar. “I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust. I want to help you defeat the Clans as much as any cat here, if not more. Use me however you wish.”

  The oldest of the leaders, little more than a faint shadow against the slimy trunk behind him, loomed threateningly over her. “Big words for one so small,” he growled.

  Ivypool forced herself not to shy away from his stinky breath and his baleful eyes as he inspected her all over.

  Brokenstar shoved him away. “Leave her alone, Maggottail.” Glancing around, he flicked his tail to summon another cat. “Come here, Antpelt.” When the brown tom was standing beside them, he addressed Ivypool. “You fought once before, and Antpelt lost. Can you beat him again?”

  Ivypool swallowed hard. She knew exactly what Brokenstar meant. There can only be one survivor this time. She glanced at Antpelt, whose neck fur was bristling in anticipation of a fight. He’s dead already. He’s dead already, she reminded herself desperately. If I kill him here, it’s not like killing him for real. And maybe Antpelt would be better off out of this terrible place before the final battle. He was a good cat when I first knew him. How will he feel if he has to attack his former Clanmates?

  For the sake of ThunderClan, for the sake of all the Clans by the lake, Ivypool knew she had to win this fight. She took a deep breath. StarClan help me!

  Summoning all her strength, all the battle moves she had ever learned, and the last reserves of her courage, Ivypool sprang at Antpelt. He reared up to meet her; as she slammed into his belly he grasped her shoulders with his forepaws, raking his claws through her fur. The hot scent of her own blood hit Ivypool in the throat. Letting herself fall backward, she battered at Antpelt’s belly with her hind claws, and felt savage satisfaction when she gouged out tufts of brown fur.

  Antpelt screeched and rolled away from her but as Ivypool scrambled to her paws he crashed into her side, carrying her to the ground again and slashing his claws down her flank.

  He’s much stronger than before! Ivypool thought, fighting down panic. He must have done nothing but train since he died. What if I can’t beat him?

  In the midst of Antpelt’s whirling claws, Ivypool grabbed his waving tail and bit down hard on it. Antpelt let out a yowl of pain and his attack wavered as he tried to tug himself free. Ivypool jumped free and crouched, panting, a fox-length away. Antpelt lay on the ground in front of her, his paws twitching as he tried to get up. He looked beaten. Bracing herself, Ivypool leaped in to deal the final blow, and in an instant he slid from underneath her and landed on her back, half squashing her. His teeth and eyes gleamed as he pushed his face close to hers.

  “I can’t believe you fell for that old trick, mange-breath,” he hissed.

  For a moment Ivypool lay still, unable to muster any more strength. Her wounds were screaming with pain and blood was trickling into her eyes. But then she felt the senior warriors watching her, curious but not concerned, as if they didn’t really care which cat won, and Ivypool remem
bered how much depended on her victory. She made a wild, bee-brained promise to herself: If I win this fight now, then the Clans will win the final battle.

  Ivypool pictured Dovewing, Firestar, and all her Clanmates, and the images gave her a surge of strength, right to the end of her claws. She heaved herself up, throwing Antpelt off. Before he could find his feet, she landed hard on top of him, slamming him to the ground. Then she lifted one paw, ready to rip his belly open from throat to tail.

  Fear flashed into Antpelt’s eyes, but Ivypool looked away. It was too late for her to back down—and too late to save Antpelt from the final battle any other way. Ivypool’s paw sliced down, and she felt warm blood welling between her pads. Antpelt spasmed once, then lay very still. His outline wavered, as if Ivypool were seeing him underwater. Then she realized that she could see the withered grass beneath him, and a pool of dark scarlet spreading wider and wider. Antpelt grew paler and paler, his fur turning transparent until he was hardly a shadow on the floor of the clearing. Ivypool blinked, and he was gone. Only his blood remained, staining the cold damp earth, but even that was fading now.

  Did I do the right thing? she wondered, numb with horror.

  Brokentail padded over to her. “Oh, you’re a Dark Forest warrior, no doubt about that,” he rasped in her ear.

  Ivypool had to stiffen every muscle to stop herself shrinking away from him. That’s the worst thing that any cat could say to me!

  “So you’ll tell me when the final battle will be?” Ivypool mewed, trying to sound eager. “And let me fight alongside you?”

  Brokenstar blinked slowly. “Maybe.”

  “But I just proved my loyalty to you!” Ivypool protested.

  Brokenstar turned away. As he padded off, he glanced over his shoulder and growled, “You should have been loyal already.”

  As Ivypool stared after him, Hawkfrost appeared at her side. “Well fought,” he meowed. He sounded impressed, and Ivypool thought she saw a flicker of fear in his ice-blue eyes. “You’ve earned your place among the warriors,” Hawkfrost continued. “If you want to know anything, just ask me. I can see how much this means to you.” Flicking his tail toward the edge of the clearing, he added, “Now go train some of the apprentices.”

  Ivypool watched him go, then began wiping her paw on the grass to clean off Antpelt’s blood. The stain on the ground had already vanished. Ivypool wondered if she would ever get the reek of his death out of her fur.

  A heartbeat later she was aware of another cat approaching, and looked up to see Breezepelt. The WindClan warrior was staring at her in horror. “What happened to Antpelt?” he whispered. “Did . . . did you kill him again?”

  Ivypool wanted to tell him that she had been forced to kill Antpelt, that she only did it for the sake of the Clans. And I’ve saved him from something worse. But she knew that she was still being watched by the leaders of the Dark Forest; she could feel the prickle of their intent gaze in her fur.

  “It was necessary,” she replied with a shrug. “In the end, my loyalty was greater than his.”

  Breezepelt took a pace forward and loomed over her. “We may be in the same Clan here, but I am not your Clanmate,” he snarled. “You will be punished for this. Wait and see.”

  A cold stone of dread weighed in Ivypool’s belly. She knew that Breezepelt meant every word of what he said. But it was too late to bring Antpelt back. And too late for Ivypool to hide from what she had done. She had broken the warrior code by killing another cat—and she had to believe that it was the right thing to do.

  Every sacrifice I make is for the good of my Clan—and for the other Clans around the lake. Even if that means sacrificing myself.

  Chapter 19

  Lionblaze brushed through the barrier of thorns and headed into the forest, his ears pricked for the sound of intruders. Hazeltail and Rosepetal followed him, and Cinderheart brought up the rear. As he led the way down toward the shore where the WindClan border stream flowed into the lake, Lionblaze heard muttered conversation behind him.

  “Who’d have thought that Hollyleaf killed Ashfur?” Hazeltail whispered. “Isn’t it awful? How did she ever keep it a secret?”

  “Well, she left soon after,” Foxleap pointed out. “Do you think she was brave or a coward to run away like that?”

  There was a heartbeat’s pause before Hazeltail replied. “She must have been brave, because she came back . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as Lionblaze swung around and fixed his two Clanmates with a glare. Hazeltail exchanged a quick glance with Foxleap before giving her chest fur a couple of embarrassed licks.

  So you’ve just remembered that Hollyleaf is my sister, Lionblaze thought, but he said nothing.

  By the time they reached the WindClan border and headed upstream, both Hazeltail and Foxleap were fully alert, their ears swiveling, their gaze flicking back and forth along the undergrowth, and their jaws parted to pick up the tiniest trace of WindClan scent on ThunderClan territory. Watching them with approval, Lionblaze couldn’t help noticing how distracted Cinderheart was, drifting along as if she weren’t seeing or scenting anything in the forest. When he warned the others about a bramble stretching across their path, and heard Foxleap passing the message back, Cinderheart still managed to get tangled in it.

  “Are you okay?” Lionblaze asked her.

  “Fine!” she snapped, pulling herself free and leaving tufts of fur behind.

  Lionblaze blinked at her uncharacteristically sharp tone. For a heartbeat he wished he had been put on a different patrol, or even ordered to fetch bedding for the elders. But then his concern for Cinderheart overwhelmed his brief annoyance. If she was behaving like this, there must be something wrong.

  A few fox-lengths farther upstream, Lionblaze noticed that Cinderheart had wandered away from the border and was standing belly-deep in long grass, her eyes wide and unfocused. He let the others go ahead and padded through the grass toward her.

  “WindClan patrol ahead!” he hissed.

  Instantly Cinderheart was alert, her neck fur fluffing up as she gazed around. “Where?”

  “Nowhere,” Lionblaze meowed. “I was just testing to see if you were awake.”

  Cinderheart’s fur bristled even more. “You’re not my mentor,” she growled. “You don’t have to keep checking on me.”

  Lionblaze opened his jaws to ask her what was wrong, but the anger in her eyes told him to keep quiet. Instead he walked on, noticing that at least Cinderheart seemed to be concentrating now.

  By the time they reached the stretch of territory where the hidden tunnels emerged, there had been no sign of WindClan or Sol. Without warning the others, Lionblaze slipped away briefly to check the tunnel entrances. No need to tell every cat where they are. Some of them might be mouse-brained enough to mount an attack on WindClan from our side.

  As he sniffed at the tunnel openings, he thought of Heathertail, and wondered if she knew about Sol’s plotting. Would she use her knowledge of the tunnels to help in her Clan’s attack? Did Heathertail have any trace of loyalty to Lionblaze, or would she take delight in hurting his Clan because the friendship they once shared had turned to dust?

  Returning to his patrol, Lionblaze looked at Cinderheart and sighed. Why do relationships have to be so complicated?

  Sunhigh was approaching as the patrol returned to camp, with nothing to report. As they came in sight of the hollow, Lionblaze heard shrieks and wailing coming from the clearing.

  “Something’s wrong!” he yowled.

  With his patrol hard on his paws he raced for the entrance. Are WindClan warriors attacking? Now, when the patrols are out and the camp is almost empty?

  But when he burst out of the thorns, there were no WindClan cats to be seen. The few ThunderClan cats who were not on duty were gathered in a ragged circle in the center of the clearing; Lionblaze thrust his way between Daisy and Ferncloud to see what was going on. In the middle of the circle, Mousewhisker and Cherrypaw were lying on the ground, writhing in pain,
their legs flailing and their tails curled up in agony. There was foam on the lips of both cats, and their eyes were glazed with pain.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Poppyfrost replied, her eyes wide and scared. “They came back a few moments ago and collapsed like this.”

  “My kit!” Daisy whispered, blinking anxiously at Mousewhisker. Ferncloud comforted her with the touch of her tail on Daisy’s shoulder.

  “Had . . . bellyache,” Mousewhisker gasped. “Think the mouse we shared last night was . . . going off a bit.”

  “It hurts!” Cherrypaw wailed. Helplessly she stretched out a paw toward Poppyfrost, as if she were begging her mother for help.

  “Where’s Jayfeather?” Lionblaze snapped.

  “Out in the forest somewhere,” Molepaw meowed, gazing at his littermate with horrified eyes. “He and Brightheart went to check on the herbs he’s growing.”

  “Go and find him,” Lionblaze ordered. “Try the old Twoleg nest first.”

  Molepaw nodded and raced off, looking relieved to have something to do. Lionblaze hesitated, uncertain what more he could do, then staggered as Leafpool shoved past him.

  “What have you eaten?” she demanded, bending over Cherrypaw.

  “Mousewhisker said they shared a rotting mouse last night,” Lionblaze explained.

  Leafpool flashed him a glance from her amber eyes. “A mouse shouldn’t cause this.” She was tense, but in control, her medicine cat skills surging back to meet the emergency.

  “Didn’t want to bother Jayfeather. We ate some parsley . . . cure the bellyache.” Mousewhisker forced the words out between his teeth.

  “Parsley?” Leafpool bent to sniff the foam around Cherrypaw’s lips. “That wasn’t parsley, it was water hemlock.”

  “Is that bad?” Lionblaze asked, already knowing the answer.

  “There’s nothing more poisonous in the whole forest, except for deathberries,” Leafpool replied. “I need herbs to make them vomit.”