Darktail dipped his head respectfully to the Clan leader, and repeated what he had said earlier about the Clans.
“Thank you, Darktail,” Leafstar meowed when he had finished. Her expression was warm. “Please come down into the camp and share our prey. Our hunting patrols have just returned, and there’s plenty for every cat. Then you can spend the night in the medicine cat’s den and get some rest.” She paused, then added, “If what you say is true, then you have given us all a very great gift.”
Leafstar would never invite Darktail into camp unless she thought he could be a great help to SkyClan. In spite of his grief about his brother, Hawkwing felt every hair on his pelt tingle with pride that he had brought something useful back from the site of the fire.
As he padded down the trail into the gorge, bringing up the rear behind his father, Hawkwing suddenly felt shaky with exhaustion, and his belly was bawling for food. Until then, the excitement of the morning, of discovering Darktail, had driven his night’s vigil and his hunger out of his mind. But now he could feel every moment that he had stayed awake.
I could fall asleep on my paws if I wasn’t starving!
Once he reached the camp he split off from Darktail and the others, then bounded over to the fresh-kill pile and picked out a juicy-looking mouse, gulping it down in huge mouthfuls. Then, with a nod at the injured cat, he headed for his new nest in the warriors’ den.
As he curled up and closed his eyes he felt a tiny hint of hope for the first time in days, like a light flickering in the depths of a dark forest.
CHAPTER 5
Hawkwing padded over to the foot of the Rockpile to join Billystorm, Waspwhisker, and Pebblepaw. Several days had passed since he had discovered Darktail near the site of the fire, and from the information he had given to Leafstar and Echosong, it seemed as if the other Clans might be only a journey of two or three sunrises away. The whole Clan had been delighted by that news, and Leafstar had decided to send a patrol at once. Hawkwing still couldn’t believe that he had been chosen. It was his first quest away from camp, and it might have been the most important quest any SkyClan cat had ever undertaken. He felt a tingling shiver of excitement slip down his spine to think that they might be only a few sunrises from meeting the other Clans, and fulfilling StarClan’s prophecy.
“Hawkwing!” Billystorm meowed as Hawkwing joined the group. “It’s good to have you along. We’re only waiting for Blossomheart now.”
Hawkwing felt his pelt prickle with hostility as he glanced at Billystorm’s apprentice, Pebblepaw, standing beside her mentor. He felt resentful from ears to tail-tip that she was coming with them, and that Billystorm had specially asked Leafstar to add her to the patrol. Seeing how Pebblepaw was completely recovered now just made him remember that Duskpaw wasn’t. He couldn’t imagine how he would stand being so close to her for days on end.
She’s only an apprentice, he grumbled to himself. She probably won’t be any use at all!
Blossomheart bounded up to join the patrol just as Leafstar and Sharpclaw padded up to say good-bye, followed by Cherrytail, Echosong, Parsleypaw, and a few more SkyClan cats. Darktail was with them; he had begged Leafstar to be allowed to join the patrol, but Echosong had pointed out that he still wasn’t fit to travel any distance.
“I wish I was coming with you,” he meowed. “Billystorm, you remember the directions I gave you?”
“I do,” Billystorm replied. “And I hope by the time we get back you’ll be well again.”
“Thanks.” Darktail ducked his head. “I’m so grateful that you’ve accepted me into your camp.”
He deserves it, Hawkwing thought, pride warming his pelt. He’s told us so much that we really need to know. We’re so lucky I found him!
“It’s time we were going.” Billystorm gestured with his tail for the patrol to gather together. “Is every cat ready?”
Hawkwing touched noses with his mother to say good-bye.
“Be careful,” Cherrytail warned him. “And hurry back. I can’t wait to hear what you find out about the other Clans.”
“Especially ThunderClan,” Sharpclaw added, looking down at his son with a gleam of approval in his green eyes. “I find it hard to believe that Firestar is dead.”
“We’ll find out for you!” Blossomheart assured him.
“Then farewell,” Leafstar meowed. “And may StarClan light your path.”
Billystorm led the way up the trail to the top of the gorge and through the undergrowth to the stretch of scrubby open ground that separated SkyClan territory from the Twolegplace. The sun shone and the air was still; the only sound was the gentle humming of bees, and the swish of grasses as the cats brushed their way through.
“Darktail says we have to go straight to the Twolegplace and through it,” Billystorm meowed. “We—”
“I don’t like the idea of traveling through the Twolegplace.” Blossomheart sounded as if she was trying hard not to show nervousness. “Twolegs are bad news.”
Billystorm flicked her gently over one ear with the tip of his tail. “Some of them are okay, and most of them won’t bother us. I can spot a bad Twoleg right away. Plus,” he added, “I still know my way through the Twolegplace.”
“So where do we go after that?” Hawkwing asked eagerly.
“We cross a Thunderpath, then look for a tree that splits into three,” Billystorm went on. “From there we turn and head toward the setting sun. We’ll know we’re going the right way when we come to a clearing ringed with trees, with a small stream running through it. According to Darktail, there’s an abandoned badgers’ den there. The Clan cats are two days’ journey beyond that.”
“That sounds straightforward enough,” Waspwhisker commented, then twitched his whiskers. “I can’t wait to get there! How exciting to meet the other Clans, after all these seasons apart.”
“Yeah, we might get to meet Firestar,” Pebblepaw mewed hopefully.
He’s dead, mouse-brain, Hawkwing thought, but said nothing aloud; he didn’t even want to speak to Pebblepaw.
“Yes, we don’t know for sure he’s dead,” Billystorm responded. “And his kin must still be alive in ThunderClan.”
“And Sandstorm,” Waspwhisker added. “The she-cat who came to SkyClan along with Firestar. She was brave too.”
Blossomheart gave a little bounce. “This is so exciting!”
“Leafstar told me stuff about the Clans that Firestar told her,” Billystorm went on. “He said all the other Clans think that ThunderClan is bossy, and its cats always believe they’re right.”
“If Firestar was their leader, they probably are always right,” Pebblepaw observed. “Firestar was such a hero!”
“I heard some of those stories too,” Waspwhisker mewed. “WindClan cats are fast runners, RiverClan cats swim like fishes, and—”
“And you can’t trust ShadowClan cats as far as you could throw them,” Billystorm finished. “I wonder if that’s true?”
Pebblepaw was silent for a moment, padding alongside her mentor, then meowed, “Do you think it’ll be a good thing, being around a bunch of other cats who tell us what to do? SkyClan is used to going its own way.”
“That’s mouse-brained,” Hawkwing responded curtly, unable to resist the chance to contradict Pebblepaw. “We’ll be stronger if we’re all together.”
Pebblepaw fluffed up her neck fur and opened her jaws for a retort, but she was interrupted by Blossomheart.
“Ooh, look!” the ginger-and-white she-cat exclaimed. “That cloud up there—it looks just like a cat with a long curly tail!”
Great StarClan, are they all mouse-brained? Hawkwing thought irritably. “I don’t see why you’re in such high spirits,” he snapped at his sister. “Not after everything that’s happened.”
Blossomheart flinched away from him, her gaze clouding. Hawkwing was immediately sorry that he had hurt her feelings. He knew very well that she was still grieving for Duskpaw.
“I didn’t mean—” he began.
&n
bsp; He broke off as Pebblepaw thrust herself between him and Blossomheart, with a savage glance at Hawkwing. “I think it’s a perfectly beautiful cloud,” she mewed. “And it looks just like a cat!”
The two she-cats padded on side by side, behind the older warriors, and Hawkwing brought up the rear, silently seething. It’s all Pebblepaw’s fault! With her around, I can’t think straight.
Before they reached the Twolegplace, Billystorm halted beside a small copse of beech trees, not far from the first of the Twoleg dens.
“We might as well hunt here,” he meowed, “before we head into the Twolegplace. There’ll be slim pickings there.”
Hawkwing’s jaws watered at the thought of prey. He had eaten a sparrow at dawn, and Echosong had given traveling herbs to all the questing cats, but he knew better than to turn down a chance to eat. Who knew how much prey they would find when they left their territory. He padded cautiously into the copse, his jaws parted to taste the air.
He dropped into the hunter’s crouch as he picked up the scent of a mouse and spotted it nibbling something at the foot of a nearby tree. He began to creep up on it, remembering to set his paws down as light as falling leaves, but as he tensed, ready to pounce, he felt the brush of fur against his pelt and spotted Pebblepaw heading past him toward the same tree.
She’s so young and stupid she didn’t even scent it! Hawkwing thought as his mouse scuttled off and disappeared among the roots. It would have to be her, ruining my hunt!
At the same moment that the mouse vanished, Hawkwing heard paw steps scampering through the grass, and spotted a squirrel with Blossomheart in hot pursuit. The squirrel started to swarm up the tree trunk, but Pebblepaw was in the right place. She leaped after it, dug her claws into its back and brought it down, where she killed it with a swift bite to its throat.
“Thank you, StarClan, for this prey,” she meowed, her eyes shining with triumph.
Blossomheart ran up to her. “Great catch! That was a brilliant plan, Pebblepaw.”
“We make a good team,” Pebblepaw purred.
Despite himself, Hawkwing was impressed by Pebblepaw’s hunting skills. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. Especially when she made me lose my prey.
Billystorm and Waspwhisker came padding through the trees, Waspwhisker carrying a blackbird.
“Wow!” Billystorm exclaimed when he saw the squirrel. “Whose was that?”
“Pebblepaw’s,” Blossomheart responded.
“We both caught it,” Pebblepaw added immediately.
Billystorm gave his apprentice a nod of approval. “Good job. Let’s eat.”
With a whisk of her tail Pebblepaw invited Hawkwing to share her squirrel. Though he crouched down with the others without a word, every mouthful tasted like crow-food. She did well, he admitted to himself grudgingly, but I wish I’d caught my own prey instead of having to feel grateful to her.
When the squirrel had been picked to the bones, the patrol set off again. Billystorm took the lead as they headed into the Twolegplace. Hawkwing felt every hair on his pelt rise with apprehension as he padded into the shadows of the tall stone dens. The air grew stale, full of the scents of monsters and unfamiliar food.
“Duskpaw would have loved this,” Waspwhisker mewed, dropping back to walk alongside Hawkwing. “He couldn’t get enough of Twoleg food. He was always trying to get around the rules and sneak off.”
Hawkwing remembered how irritating he had found it when his brother did that. Now all he could think about was how much fun his brother had been; he would have given anything to have Duskpaw back, even if he’d never seemed to take his apprentice training seriously. The memories choked him so that he couldn’t reply to Waspwhisker.
“I had to scold him, and punish him sometimes,” the gray-and-white tom went on. “That was my job as his mentor, because otherwise he would never learn. He must have shifted more ticks from the elders’ fur than any other apprentice in the Clan! But he was never resentful . . . he would always make a joke, so it was hard to be angry with him.”
“I know.” Hawkwing managed to speak at last. “When we were kits, he thought up the best games . . . and he was really good at sneaking off so we could play.”
Amusement glimmered in Waspwhisker’s eyes. “I remember Cherrytail saying her paws would fall off, she spent so much time chasing him back into the nursery!”
Gradually, listening to the older warrior, Hawkwing began to feel comforted. This was the first time any cat had spoken to him so openly about Duskpaw. I guess they thought it would hurt me too much. But it’s good to hear Waspwhisker’s memories. It makes Duskpaw seem closer, somehow.
“I’ll never stop missing him,” Hawkwing managed to mew softly.
Waspwhisker nodded understandingly. “He had so much spirit! You know, I blame myself . . . ,” he added.
Hawkwing gazed at him, startled. But it was my fault. . . .
“Maybe if I’d been sterner with Duskpaw, about leaving the territory without a warrior, he wouldn’t have sneaked off that day to get the Twoleg food. And then he’d still be alive.”
“You can’t know that,” Hawkwing responded, feeling how strange it was to reassure a more experienced warrior. “No cat ever stopped Duskpaw from doing what he wanted.”
Waspwhisker let out a little huff of amusement. “No . . .”
“You couldn’t be responsible, because I’m responsible,” Hawkwing continued. “I could have saved him!”
Waspwhisker touched Hawkwing’s shoulder with the tip of his tail. “Maybe when some cat dies, part of our grief is feeling guilty and wishing we’d done things differently. Even though there’s nothing we could have done.” He let out a deep sigh. “You know, I don’t think Duskpaw would want either of us to feel guilty. He always wanted every cat to be happy.”
“That’s true,” Hawkwing murmured. “One time, when Ebonyclaw was teaching me to hunt, I was upset because I missed a really easy catch. Duskpaw brought his mouse to share with me, and told me a funny story about how he tripped over his own paws trying to stalk a rabbit.”
“We’ll grieve for him and miss him,” Waspwhisker went on, “but we should remember that it is happiness he would want us to carry in our hearts when we think of him.”
Hawkwing’s chest swelled at the older warrior’s wisdom. But a heartbeat later the sound of high-pitched Twoleg yowling struck his ears and his heart started to pound with the shock.
“Get down!” Billystorm ordered.
Deep in conversation with Waspwhisker, Hawkwing had hardly noticed his surroundings as they followed Billystorm through the Twolegplace. Now he realized that they had left the last of the dens behind them and begun to cross a stretch of grass with a Thunderpath beyond. Crouching close together with the rest of the patrol, he spotted several Twoleg kits ahead of them, running up and down and waving their forepaws around, as if they were having some kind of battle.
“Listen to me,” Billystorm hissed. “This could be dangerous. Some Twolegs can be violent and unpredictable, and their kits are even worse. It’s usually best to hide and wait for them to go away, but this grass won’t give us cover for long. They’re bound to spot us soon.”
“So what do we do?” Pebblepaw asked.
“We’ll have to make a run for it,” Billystorm replied. “Once we get across the Thunderpath we should be safe. In my experience, Twoleg kits won’t cross it unless they have bigger Twolegs with them. So, when I say run, run—and for StarClan’s sake, watch out for monsters.”
Hawkwing peered out through the stems of grass, his heart thumping harder than ever. The Thunderpath was many fox-lengths ahead of them, directly on the other side of the group of battling Twoleg kits. As Hawkwing stared at them, one of the Twoleg kits let out a louder screech and started to run toward the cats, pointing with one forepaw.
“Go!” Billystorm yowled.
Hawkwing sprang forward, wind streaming through his fur as he raced for the Thunderpath. Pebblepaw and Blossomheart pelted along jus
t ahead of him, while Waspwhisker kept pace alongside him and Billystorm brought up the rear. More Twoleg kits were chasing them now, the air filled with their horrible caterwauling.
The Thunderpath drew closer and closer.
We’re going to make it! Hawkwing thought.
Then one of Hawkwing’s forepaws slid down into a concealed dip in the ground. He lost his balance and rolled over and over, ending up on his side, all the breath driven out of him.
Hawkwing looked up, gasping for air, to see all his Clanmates far ahead of him. Blossomheart and Pebblepaw had already crossed the Thunderpath. Waspwhisker was waiting on the near side while a gleaming blue monster roared past. Only Billystorm skidded to a halt in front of Hawkwing and looked back.
“Go on!” Hawkwing yowled. “I’m okay! I’ll catch up!”
As Billystorm raced on, Hawkwing felt a shadow fall over him. He turned his head to see a Twoleg kit stooping over him, one huge forepaw reaching out to grab him. Something strange glittered in its other forepaw and its mouth gaped, letting out a triumphant screech.
Hawkwing sprang up and dodged away, barely avoiding the outstretched paw. But as he streaked away across the grass a blow struck him on his back. He could feel something trickling through his fur.
Oh, StarClan, help me! It must be blood!
Hawkwing wondered if he was somehow so badly injured, he couldn’t even feel the pain. But strangely the wound didn’t stop him from running. Reaching the edge of the Thunderpath, he hurled himself across it without even looking up. The air was split with a screeching so loud that it drowned out the sounds of the Twoleg kits, and Hawkwing felt wind buffeting his tail and his hindquarters as a massive monster growled past.
As soon as his paws touched the grass on the far side of the Thunderpath, Hawkwing collapsed, panting. His Clanmates gathered around and stared down at him, concerned looks on their faces.
“They got me!” Hawkwing gasped. “The Twoleg kits got me! I’m bleeding!”
Even as he spoke, he felt that something wasn’t right. Blood was supposed to be warm, but he realized for the first time that the stuff dripping down his back was cold.