Hawkwing’s belly was cramping so hard he thought he would have to vomit. He wanted to shut out the memory of Toad being ripped apart by the dogs, but he thought the sound and the reek of blood would stay with him for the rest of his life.
Crouching down, he peered through a gap in the hedge, ready to warn his Clanmates if the dogs pursued them. But he saw nothing; all he heard was some distant barking and the yowls of Twolegs, which quickly faded away.
“Now what do we do?” Sagenose asked, when all the cats had managed to catch their breath.
Darktail sat with his head bowed; the light had gone out of his eyes, and he looked smaller, hunched in on himself. “I’m sorry,” he mewed. “It looks like there aren’t any cats here—at least, not anymore.”
“I can’t believe that!” Hawkwing protested. “Toad said he saw them! We can’t have traveled so far from camp, only to fail again. We must try to pick up their scent.”
Darktail made no reply. He wouldn’t look at any cat, and his fur bristled as if he was still in shock. He’s too overcome with grief to think clearly, Hawkwing thought. But Sagenose gave Hawkwing a brisk nod.
“You’re right,” he told Hawkwing. “We’ll search, but we have to stay well away from that barn. Harrybrook, you keep watch, and warn us if you see any sign of those dogs, or the Twolegs, coming back.”
Encouraged by the older warrior, Hawkwing led his friends in a wide circle around the barn, noses to the ground as they desperately searched for some trace of the Clan cats.
If Toad was right, Firestar’s kin must be close, he thought. We can’t give up now!
But eventually even Hawkwing had to admit that they had failed. The sun was much lower in the sky, and they still hadn’t picked up even the faintest trace of cat scent. Apart from themselves, there were no cats here, and no evidence that cats had ever been there: no scraps of fur, no scratched-up ground where they might have buried their dirt, no feathers or other remains of prey.
Finally, tail drooping dispiritedly, Hawkwing led the way back to where Darktail still crouched in the shelter of the hedge with Rain beside him. He looked up as the SkyClan cats approached.
“No luck?” he asked.
Hawkwing shook his head. “Nothing. I can’t understand it.”
“Maybe the Twolegs and their dogs chased the missing Clan cats away,” Rain suggested. “They might even have killed them.”
“All of them?” Hawkwing couldn’t believe that, even though he had just seen those dogs kill a cat. “Even if they did, surely we would have found traces—blood, or fur, or something.”
“And you led us into this mess,” Firefern hissed, her ginger fur bristling as she padded up to Darktail and thrust her muzzle close to his. “Is this a game to you? Watching cats get hurt?”
Darktail looked up at her, his eyes wide and tragic. His ears were flattened to his head and his whiskers quivered. Hawkwing couldn’t remember ever seeing a cat so distressed. Except maybe me, after Duskpaw died.
“Okay! I messed up!” Darktail confessed, flattening himself onto his belly. “I promised to lead you to the Clan cats, and I failed. I failed horribly! Again. And I’ll never, ever forgive myself for the death of Toad. He was my friend. There’s nothing I can do to make up for my stupidity. I deserve to be fed to the dogs—not poor Toad!”
Firefern backed off, looking ashamed of her outburst. “Sorry,” she muttered. “You just lost your friend. I know you must be feeling bad.”
“I’ll go and search the barn!” Darktail staggered to his paws. “I don’t care if the dogs are still there. I’ll find out if the Clan cats stayed there, or die trying!”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Sagenose growled, while Rain pressed Darktail down again with a paw on his shoulder. “It’s not worth another life.”
Sympathy for Darktail flooded over Hawkwing, swamping his frustration and sense of failure. The rogue looked not just grief-stricken, but confused—as if he’d just woken up from a dark, terrifying dream . . . that was actually real. He clearly couldn’t believe what had happened.
Hawkwing settled down beside the rogue cat, so close that their pelts brushed.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he meowed. “Toad just fell off the branch. There was nothing you could’ve done.”
Darktail nodded. “Yes. I . . . I tried to grab him, but he was too heavy for me to hold.”
“My brother Duskpaw died in a fire,” Hawkwing went on, pressing his muzzle briefly into Darktail’s shoulder. “And I keep telling myself I should have saved him. So I know what it’s like to feel responsible for a cat’s death. It’s like a vicious claw underneath your fur, snagging and tearing at you. I don’t want you to go through that, too.”
Darktail gave Hawkwing a brief glance before going back to studying his own paws. “Thanks,” he whispered.
Hawkwing drew away slightly, leaving Darktail with Rain, and gestured with his tail for his Clanmates to gather around. “We have to decide what to do now,” he meowed.
Sagenose shrugged. “What can we do? We’ve no proof that the Clan cats were ever here.”
“Even if they were,” Firefern agreed with a frustrated twitch of her tail, “there’s nothing to tell us where they’ve gone now.”
“You mean we should just turn around and go home?” Harrybrook asked, blinking unhappily.
Hawkwing opened his jaws to protest. “But we—”
“What else do you suggest?” Sagenose interrupted. “Should we just wander around, trying to pick up scent that might never have been there in the first place? That’s a good way to get ourselves killed.”
Firefern and Harrybrook both let out approving murmurs as Sagenose spoke. Hawkwing could tell there was no arguing with them, and deep down he had to admit they were right. There’s no way we can find Firestar’s kin now.
“Okay,” he mewed, reluctant to believe this was his second failed quest. I was so sure we would succeed this time! And now we’re no closer to finding the spark that remains. “I guess we go home.”
As he was speaking, Darktail rose to his paws and padded over with Rain at his shoulder. Hawkwing could see that he was beginning to recover, though he still looked shaken.
“We should move away from here,” he meowed. “Those dogs could still be around.”
Hawkwing cast an uneasy glance back at the barn. There was no sign of the dogs or Twolegs—he was almost certain they had gone away—but he couldn’t rid himself of the fear that they could come bursting out at a heartbeat’s notice and hunt him and his Clanmates down.
Their paws trailing despondently, their tails dragging on the ground, the patrol followed Sagenose, who took the lead back across the stretch of grass toward a holly thicket at the far side. “I think we should make camp for the night,” he suggested, “and then head back to the gorge at sunrise.”
Within the thicket was a small clearing sheltered by ferns, where water seeped from a crack in a rocky outcrop and trickled into a small pool. Darktail let himself flop down at the water’s edge with a drawn-out groan. Hawkwing could see that though he had roused himself to follow the others away from danger, he was still devastated by the death of Toad.
“Why don’t you rest,” he urged, “and some of us will hunt.”
“I’ll go,” Sagenose offered immediately. “Harrybrook, will you come with me?”
“Sure,” the young gray tom replied.
“I’ll come too,” mewed Rain.
The hunters moved off into the bushes, leaving Hawkwing and Firefern beside Darktail. While Firefern coaxed the rogue to lap some of the water, Hawkwing drew into himself, unable to think anymore of what he could say to Darktail. He was too busy imagining all too clearly what it would be like when they returned to the SkyClan camp.
Sharpclaw doesn’t think I can do anything right. And now I’ll have to explain to him that we’ve failed again.
By the time the hunting party returned the sun was going down, filling the thicket with shadows. A chilly br
eeze had sprung up, rustling the fern fronds and piercing Hawkwing’s fur with cold claws.
Rain strode into the clearing dangling two mice by their tails, while Sagenose followed with a thrush and Firefern dragged a rabbit between her forelegs.
“At least the hunting was good,” Sagenose mewed, dropping his prey beside the pool. “Come and eat.”
Hawkwing forced himself to move forward and take his share of the prey, but he felt every mouthful was going to choke him. Darktail hardly touched a morsel, and none of the others had much appetite either, except for Rain, who devoured his mouse and swiped his tongue around his jaws with satisfaction.
As full darkness gathered, Hawkwing curled up and closed his eyes, but it took a long time for sleep to come, and when it did, his dreams were full of Toad’s desperate shrieks as the dogs tore him apart.
Hawkwing opened his eyes and stretched his jaws into a wide yawn. Pale dawn light was filtering through the branches of the holly thicket. Blinking, Hawkwing sat up and saw that the rest of the patrol were rousing too. For a moment he found it hard to remember where they were and what they should be doing. When his memory flowed back, he felt as if a huge rock had dropped into his belly.
This is the day we have to head back and admit we failed—again.
A few scraps of prey were left from the night before. No cat felt like hunting for more, so when they had shared the meager remains they set out again, with Darktail in the lead. The rogue tom seemed to be looking inward, scarcely speaking; Hawkwing guessed that he was still reliving Toad’s terrible death.
The sun was just coming up, shedding a golden light across their path. Every blade of grass glittered with dew. But Hawkwing’s thoughts were still dark as he thought of their return to their waiting Clan. How am I going to explain all this to Leafstar and my father?
After a while, Darktail dropped back a few paw steps to pad alongside Hawkwing. “You look worried,” he meowed. “Are you okay?”
Hawkwing was touched that Darktail should think about his feelings in the midst of his own grieving. “Yes, I am worried,” he confessed. “I’m nervous about going home and telling every cat that we’re no nearer to finding Firestar’s kin. I really hoped I would impress Sharpclaw on this quest, but now he’s going to despise me as much as ever.”
Darktail gave him a sympathetic glance. “Sharpclaw doesn’t sound like much of a father,” he observed, “if he blames you for something that isn’t your fault.”
Hawkwing felt a tinge of defensiveness at the white tom’s words. After all, Darktail doesn’t really know Sharpclaw.
“He’s a great cat,” he responded. “But . . . well, things haven’t been the same between us since Duskpaw died.”
“Then maybe you’ll both get over it,” Darktail mewed with an understanding nod. “But remember—it’s all well and good being kin to a cat, but in the wild you have to take your kin where you find it.”
His somber tone convinced Hawkwing that he was speaking from personal experience. He felt a sharp prick of curiosity, wondering if this had anything to do with Darktail’s friend who had starved to death in a harsh leaf-bare, but Darktail said no more, and Hawkwing didn’t feel that he could ask him about it.
Hawkwing and the rest of the patrol approached the SkyClan camp as their second day of travel drew to a close. The sinking sun cast red light over the stretch of grass that separated the gorge from the Twolegplace, and a few warriors of StarClan already glimmered in the sky.
As the cats headed toward the gorge, Hawkwing picked up the scent of the border markers, and halted abruptly, his pads prickling with apprehension. “That’s odd,” he muttered.
“What’s the matter?” Harrybrook asked.
“The scent markings are stale,” Hawkwing replied. “They haven’t been renewed since dawn at least.”
His Clanmates tasted the air, and after a moment Sagenose nodded. “You’re right,” he mewed. “Maybe they’re just late with the evening patrol. . . .”
“Do you really think so?” Hawkwing challenged him. “Or has there been more trouble? Let’s get down there!”
The patrol picked up speed as they wound their way among the shrubs at the top of the gorge, and the shadows of the trees lay dark across their path. Hawkwing imagined they were ominous paws reaching out to grab him, then gave his pelt a shake, telling himself not to be so mouse-brained.
Twilight lay thick in the gorge as Hawkwing and the others reached the head of the trail that led down into the camp. It was impossible to see exactly what was going on down below, except that there seemed to be a crowd of cats clustering around the entrance to Echosong’s den.
Hawkwing took the lead as the patrol headed into the gorge. He was scarcely aware of the cliff dropping away below him as his paws skimmed over the rocks. His heart was pounding and he could hardly catch his breath.
“What happened?” he demanded, thrusting his way into the group of cats around Echosong’s den. “Is something wrong?”
His sister Blossomheart turned to face him. In the dim light he saw that she had an angry wound on one shoulder, with a clump of fur missing, as if some creature had bitten her.
“Those animals came back,” she told Hawkwing. “Those . . . raccoons. It was terrible. Leafstar lost a life!”
Hawkwing felt as though he had been clawed in his belly. Now he understood why the scent markings hadn’t been renewed, and why his Clanmates were waiting anxiously outside the medicine cats’ den. And now that he had a moment to catch his breath, he could pick up the reek of the raccoons, fading now but still clear enough to reveal the creatures’ recent presence in the camp. The scent of blood was mingled with it, and as Hawkwing looked around he saw that more of his Clanmates bore the marks of the raccoons’ teeth and claws. Most of them were already patched with cobweb and poultices of marigold; both medicine cats must have been working tirelessly.
“There were more of them this time,” Rabbitleap added from where he stood beside Blossomheart. “What are we going to do?”
Before any cat could reply, Sharpclaw appeared at the mouth of the den. His green eyes glinted in the twilight as his gaze swept across the cluster of cats.
“Leafstar will be fine,” he announced. “There’s no need to worry about her, or to hang around here like a bunch of sick rabbits. Tinycloud . . .” He angled his ears toward the white she-cat. “You’re okay, aren’t you? Round up some of the other uninjured warriors and take them to renew the scent markers.”
Tinycloud gave a brisk nod. “Right, Sharpclaw.” She headed off, waving her tail to collect more of her Clanmates around her.
As the crowd thinned out, Sharpclaw spotted Hawkwing and the other questing cats, who had hurried up behind him. “You’re back!” he exclaimed, his tail curling up in surprise. “Come in here and report—no, not all of you, just Hawkwing and . . . yes, Darktail.”
Hawkwing’s belly cramped; this was the moment he had been dreading. StarClan, help me. It wasn’t our fault! No cat could have tracked Firestar’s kin from that barn. But Hawkwing knew that Sharpclaw wouldn’t see it like that.
He padded into the medicine cats’ den, with Darktail hard on his paws. Inside he saw Leafstar lying in a nest of moss; she was stretched out on one side with her belly exposed, and Echosong was patting marigold pulp onto a scar on her chest between her forelegs. Hawkwing felt sick as he realized that must be the wound that had taken one of his Clan leader’s lives.
On the other side of the den, Frecklewish was patching Mistfeather’s shoulder with a thick wad of cobweb. The gray tom flinched as her paws pressed the web down firmly to stop his wound from bleeding.
Leafstar raised her head as Hawkwing and Darktail entered the den. She looked exhausted, but her voice was steady as she meowed, “So you’re back! Are all of you safe?”
Hawkwing nodded. “We’re all fine.”
“And did you find Firestar’s kin?”
Hawkwing felt as if the one word was going to choke him, it was so hard
to get it out. “No.”
“No?” It was Sharpclaw who spoke, his voice edged with irritation. “Why not?”
Glancing at Darktail, Hawkwing saw that the rogue tom was standing at his shoulder, his head bent dejectedly as he stared at his paws. Obviously there was no use expecting him to explain anything.
“We traveled for two days,” Hawkwing began, speaking to Leafstar. It was easier to face his leader than the icy green stare of his father. “Then we met a cat called Toad, a friend of Darktail’s.” He went on to describe how Toad had told them of a group of cats who had stayed for a while in the abandoned Twoleg barn, and how Twolegs and dogs had sprung out on the patrol when they tried to investigate. His voice shook and cold shivers ran through him as he related the story of Toad’s death. In his mind he could still hear the rogue cat’s shrieks and the terrible snarling of the dogs. “And when we tried to pick up a scent trail,” he finished, “we couldn’t find anything. Not a single trace that Clan cats had ever been there.”
Sharpclaw turned a hostile gaze on Darktail. “You told us you knew how to find Firestar’s kin.”
Darktail didn’t look up. “I was wrong,” he mewed humbly. “I’m sorry.”
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t help us,” Mistfeather put in with a snort of contempt. “We’re no nearer to finding out what StarClan’s prophecy means.”
“And yet more darkness seems to be gathering, with all these attacks,” Sharpclaw added. “We need to follow StarClan’s advice as soon as we can.”
“As far as I can see,” Mistfeather growled, still glaring at Darktail, “we’d have been far better off if you and your rogue friend had never set paw in our camp.”
Darktail cringed away from him. “I tried my best—” he began.
“And your best wasn’t good enough,” Sharpclaw told him curtly. “Hawkwing, did this Toad tell you anything about where the Clan cats might have gone?”