“Dovepaw!” Rippletail’s desperate, lonely whimper rang in her ears.
With a start, she blinked open her eyes.
Her sister, Ivypaw, stirred beside her. “Were you dreaming?” The silver-and-white tabby raised her head and gazed anxiously at Dovepaw. “You were twitching like a mouse.”
“Bad dream.” Dovepaw fought to keep her mew steady. Her heart was pounding and Rippletail’s cry echoed in her mind. She stretched forward and licked Ivypaw’s head. “It’s gone now,” she lied.
As Ivypaw’s sleepy eyes began to close, Dovepaw breathed in the soft scent of her sister. I’m home, she reminded herself.
Everything’s okay. Yet her heart still pounded. She stretched in her nest, a shiver running to the tip of her tail, and clambered to her paws. Padding carefully between the nests, she headed out of the den.
Moonlight bathed the deserted clearing, and above the rock walls that encircled the camp, the horizon was milky with dawn light. The mewls of Poppyfrost’s newborn kits drifted from the nursery, and snores rumbled from the dens. The air felt strange, cool and wet on her muzzle. For many moons, Dovepaw had known nothing but the parched wind of drought, dry on her tongue. But now she could taste the green freshness of the forest, heady and mouthwatering.
Thin clouds drifted across the star-speckled sky, draping Silverpelt like cobwebs. She wondered if Rippletail was watching from among her starry ancestors.
I’m sorry. The words echoed in her mind like the lonely call of an owl.
Even though the long journey upstream was a quarter moon ago, the memory still ached in her muscles. Dovepaw had traveled with Lionblaze and two cats from each of the other Clans to track down the beavers that had blocked the stream and starved the lake of water. Together they had destroyed the dam and unleashed the torrent that had filled the lake once more. And now life was returning to the territories. She felt it in the rustling of the forest, heard it in the stirrings of prey beyond the edges of the camp.
Pride coursed through her. She had been the one to sense the beavers as they worked to block the stream. She had helped break their dam to pieces and now all the Clans would survive. But the memory was bittersweet, like yarrow on her tongue. The RiverClan warrior Rippletail had died fighting the large brown creatures, their heavy bodies stronger than foxes, their snapping yellow teeth deadlier than claws.
Memories of the journey had thronged in Dovepaw’s mind since she’d returned, and Rippletail’s death haunted her dreams. Did Lionblaze feel the same? She didn’t dare ask. Nor could she confide in Jayfeather about how much the journey still clung to her thoughts. They might think she was weak. She had a great destiny ahead of her.
How could she ever live up to the prophecy that had been given to Firestar many moons ago? There will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws.
Dovepaw was one of the Three, along with Lionblaze and Jayfeather. The realization still shocked her. She’d been an apprentice less than a moon and now she carried more responsibility than a senior warrior on her shoulders. What could she do but hone the power she’d been given, the power that made her one of the Three? She practiced each day, reaching out with her senses as deep into the forest as she could, listening, tasting, feeling for sounds and movements even Jayfeather could not detect.
Dovepaw crouched outside the den, her pelt ruffling in the damp air, and closed her eyes. She let the sensation of earth beneath her paws slide away, reached beyond the sound of Poppyfrost’s kits fidgeting in the nursery, and let her senses roam. The forest trembled with life, filling her senses with smells and sounds: birds shaking out their feathers before they began their morning song, an early ShadowClan patrol padding sleepily out of camp, their paws clumsy on the slippery, needle-strewn ground. The sharp scent of catmint growing beside the abandoned Twoleg nest bathed her tongue. The sound of water chattering over the rock-cluttered stream on the WindClan border stirred her ear fur.
Wait!
Why were two cats slinking beside the lake at this time of day?
Anxiety pricked at Dovepaw’s pelt. She blinked open her eyes. She should tell someone. But how could she explain without giving away her secret power? Lionblaze? No. She couldn’t go to her mentor. He’d be asleep in the warriors’ den and it would be impossible to wake him without disturbing his denmates.
Jayfeather? Of course! He slept alone in the medicine den since Leafpool had joined the warriors. Dovepaw hurried across the clearing and pushed through the lichen that draped the entrance to the shadowy cave.
“Jayfeather!” She opened her eyes wide, trying to adjust to the gloom. Hurrying to his nest, she nudged him with her nose.
His gray tabby pelt was ruffled by sleep, his nose tucked tightly under his paw. “Go away,” he grumbled.
“It’s important,” Dovepaw hissed.
The medicine cat lifted his chin and blinked open his sightless blue eyes. “I was dreaming!” he snapped.
Dovepaw tensed. Had she disturbed a message from StarClan?
“I was about to catch a mouse.” Jayfeather held his paws a whisker apart. “It was this far away.”
Dovepaw stifled a purr. It was comforting to know that Jayfeather had regular mouse-chasing dreams like any other cat. “Sorry.”
“It’s not funny!” Jayfeather stood and shook out his fur.
Dovepaw ducked out of the way as he sprang from his nest and landed lightly beside her.
“What’s the matter?” Jayfeather licked a paw and drew it along his whiskers.
“Two cats are walking around the lake.”
Jayfeather let his paw drop and met her gaze. Dovepaw blinked. She still wasn’t used to the way Jayfeather acted like he could see even though he was blind.
“Are they heading for ThunderClan territory?”
Dovepaw nodded. She was relieved that he hadn’t asked her if she was sure. He just believed her. He trusted her completely. He had faith in her power. She really was one of the Three.
Jayfeather let out a long, thoughtful breath. “Do you know which Clan they’re from?”
Why hadn’t she checked that already? Dovepaw cast her senses out again, let them stretch back to the lakeshore and wreathe around the two cats still padding steadily onward. “RiverClan,” she breathed, tasting their fishy scent. She could make out the shade of their pelts: one dappled gold, one gray.
The dappled cat was smaller, a she-cat. “Mothwing.” The scent of herbs on the medicine cat’s pelt was strong.
The gray was a she-cat too, but larger, with the muscled shoulders of a seasoned warrior. “And Mistyfoot.” The RiverClan deputy.
Jayfeather nodded, his eyes clouding.
“What?” Dovepaw leaned closer.
“They’re grieving,” he murmured.
She recognized sadness in the slow, dragging steps of the RiverClan cats. But the sorrow sharpening Jayfeather’s mew told her that he could actually feel their grief as though it were his own. “What are they grieving for?”
“Leopardstar must be dead.” He sighed.
“Dead?” Dovepaw stiffened. “She’s lost all her lives?”
“She’d reached her ninth. It was just a matter of time.” Jayfeather got slowly to his paws and headed for the crack in the rock at the back of the medicine den. “Mistyfoot and Mothwing must be heading for the Moonpool,” he called over his shoulder. “So Mistyfoot can receive her nine lives.”
He disappeared into the cleft, his voice echoing from the shadows. “Now that we’re awake so early…”—reproach edged his mew—“we might as well make ourselves useful.”
Dovepaw hardly heard. Leopardstar, dead? She cast her senses far across the lake, reaching for the RiverClan camp. Images of the stricken Clan filled her mind. Cats circled restlessly around a body laid in the clearing, while others smoothed rosemary and watermint onto its spotted pelt in an attempt to hide the odor of death. A queen shooed her kits in a flurry of paws back toward the nursery.
Jayfeather e
merged from the cleft carrying a bundle of herbs. “Mistyfoot will make a good leader,” he mewed, dropping the herbs and heading back to his store. “She’s fair and wise, and the other Clans respect her.” He returned with another large bundle of herbs and dropped it beside the first.
“Will Leopardstar hunt with StarClan now?”
“They will welcome such a noble warrior.” Jayfeather began to separate the leaves into smaller piles. The tang of them made Dovepaw’s nose wrinkle.
She dragged her attention back to the medicine den. “What are you doing?”
“We need to spread these herbs out to dry them.”
“But what should we do about Leopardstar?”
“Nothing.” Jayfeather pushed a clump of herbs toward her. “Rain got into the store and I don’t want them to rot,” he explained.
“Shouldn’t we tell Firestar?”
“Do you want to wake him?”
Dovepaw stared at her pile of leaves. She supposed it wouldn’t really make any difference if she waited till he was awake and out of his den.
Jayfeather was already expertly separating the leaves in his pile, laying them one by one out on the dry ground. Dovepaw began carefully peeling a wide, floppy leaf away from the clump. “Is it always the deputy who becomes leader?”
“So long as no other warrior believes they can lead the Clan better.”
Dovepaw stared at him in surprise, a leaf dangling from her paw. “Has that ever happened?”
Jayfeather nodded. “In WindClan, Onestar had to fight for his leadership.”
“Fight?” Dovepaw laid the leaf beside the others, trying to keep her paw steady. Could Clanmates really turn on one another like that?
“Mudclaw thought he’d make a better leader,” Jayfeather answered matter-of-factly. His line of drying leaves was already a tail-length long. Dovepaw tried to work faster.
“Careful!” Jayfeather warned. “If you rip them, they lose some of their healing juices.”
Dovepaw hesitated before she drew another leaf from the soggy pile. “Does it happen often?” Her belly churned. “I mean, Clanmates fighting to be leader.”
Jayfeather shook his head. “It’s rare. And if Mistyfoot is already on her way to the Moonpool, clearly no one’s challenged her.” He began to straighten the leaves Dovepaw had laid out. “Though there might have been a time when she would have been challenged.”
“When?” Dovepaw cast her senses back to the RiverClan camp, searching anxiously for any flicking tail or unsheathed claws that might suggest discontent. She found nothing, only the slow steps and drooping tails of a Clan in mourning.
“Hawkfrost.” Jayfeather half spat the name. “Mothwing’s brother.”
“Hawkfrost?” Dovepaw had heard the name in the stories that elders told about the days when the Clans first made their homes around the lake.
“He’s dead, thank StarClan.” Jayfeather didn’t look up from his work, though his paws slowed down as if memories distracted him.
“Have you seen him in StarClan?” Dovepaw asked.
“Hurry up.” Jayfeather ignored her question. “I want all these leaves laid out by the time the sun’s up, to give them enough time to dry.”
Has he seen Rippletail? she wondered, laying out a new leaf. The memory of the dead RiverClan warrior stabbed her heart.
Jayfeather padded away to the cleft and fetched a new bundle of damp leaves. “Was it Mistyfoot and Mothwing who woke you so early?”
Dovepaw looked up, blinking.
“Did they disturb your dreams?” he pressed.
Dovepaw shook her head. She didn’t want to share the dream that had broken her sleep.
“Were you dreaming of Rippletail?”
Dovepaw looked up sharply, as surprised by the gentleness in Jayfeather’s mew as she was by the question. Had he been there in her dream?
The medicine cat shook his head. “I didn’t walk in your dreams.”
Is he reading my thoughts right now? Dovepaw flinched away, but Jayfeather went on.
“I can tell that you’re troubled and I can feel your grief. It’s like a nettle in your heart, stinging any paw that tries to pluck it out.”
Dovepaw began peeling and laying out leaves as though it were the most important duty she’d ever had. She’d tried so hard to hide her feelings. What would he think of her now that he knew how soft she was? Would he be disappointed that she was one of the Three?
But Jayfeather carried on calmly separating the herbs. “You might feel as if you are responsible for his death, but you’re not,” he told her. “You have a destiny, but so does every other cat. Rippletail was always going to be part of the quest to unblock the stream. He was born with courage, and you couldn’t have succeeded without him. His death steered your path, helped you find another way to defeat the beavers. He died saving the lives of his Clanmates. StarClan led him to the battle that killed him, not you.”
Dovepaw stared deep into the medicine cat’s blue gaze. “Is that true?”
“It’s true.” He rolled a torn leaf into a tight knot and wrapped it in another. His mew grew brisk once more. “The fresh leaf’s juices will leach out and make the damaged leaf stronger,” he explained.
Dovepaw nodded without really hearing. Jayfeather had managed to touch the nettle in her heart and release its sting. For the first time since Rippletail’s death, she felt peace. Was it that simple? Should she just follow her own destiny and leave the rest to StarClan?
But one day she’d be stronger than StarClan. Lionblaze had promised her that. What then?
She sat back on her haunches. Sunshine was beginning to ripple through the trailing brambles at the cave entrance. Long lines of leaves lay drying in front of her. “Firestar will be awake by now. Should we tell him about Leopardstar?”
Jayfeather’s eyes flashed. “And how would you explain what you know?”
Dovepaw frowned. “Shouldn’t Firestar know about my power?” Firestar had assumed that she had learned about the beavers in a dream sent by StarClan, and Dovepaw had said nothing to change his mind. But how likely was it that she would dream about the death of another Clan’s leader?
“No.” Jayfeather plucked up a leaf, dark with the beginnings of rot, and flung it to the edge of the den. “Things are complicated enough.”
“Doesn’t he know about your powers?”
Jayfeather began to sweep dust away from the leaves with his tail. “He doesn’t even know we’re the Three.”
Worry dropped like a cold stone in Dovepaw’s belly. “Doesn’t know?” Why not? Why should they hide their powers if they were going to protect the future of the Clans? And the prophecy had come to Firestar first of all. “Surely StarClan wouldn’t have shared the prophecy with him if they hadn’t wanted him to know—”
Jayfeather cut her off. “You should join a patrol,” he mewed. “I’ll finish up here.”
She opened her mouth to argue but Jayfeather went on. “I can hear Brambleclaw coming out of his den. He won’t want to be kept waiting.”
Reluctantly, Dovepaw turned away. Jayfeather wasn’t going to give any more answers. As she nosed her way out of the medicine den, she saw Brambleclaw sitting beside the tumbled rocks leading to Highledge. Cinderheart was pacing in front of him while the other warriors emerged from their dens to hear their duties for the day. She saw the flash of surprise in the deputy’s eyes as she padded out of Jayfeather’s den.
“Are you okay?” Brambleclaw called.
Dovepaw forced her ears to stop twitching. “Just a bit of a bellyache,” she lied. “It’s better now.”
Brambleclaw nodded. “In that case you can join the patrol with me and Lionblaze.”
“Did someone say my name?” Lionblaze was emerging from the warriors’ den, yawning.
“You’re joining the dawn patrol,” Brambleclaw told him.
The golden warrior’s eyes brightened. Then he spotted Dovepaw and frowned, his gaze questioning. He could clearly sense that something was u
p. She gave a quick shake of her head.
The nursery rustled and Poppyfrost’s kits tumbled out with their mother padding behind them. The tortoiseshell queen was wearily shaking her head. “Why do kits have to wake up so early?” She steered Cherrykit and Molekit with her tail as they began to skip toward the warriors gathered by the rocks. “Stay out of the way,” she warned.
“But I want to hear Brambleclaw,” Cherrykit complained.
“We won’t disturb them,” Molekit promised.
Dovepaw stared blankly at the kits. The knowledge of Leopardstar’s death churned inside her while her Clanmates surrounded her, aware of nothing but the hunting patrols that lay ahead. She suddenly felt as though she were trapped behind a waterfall, separated from her Clanmates by the glistening torrent, her voice drowned by its thundering.
Ivypaw bounced up to her. “It’s so early!” she complained. But her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Doesn’t the forest smell great?” She took a deep breath and licked her lips. “The air tastes of prey.”
Brambleclaw nodded toward the silver-and-white apprentice. “Perhaps you and Cinderheart should join our border patrol.”
“Yes, please!” Ivypaw looked at her sister. “I bet I catch the first prey today,” she teased.
Cinderheart padded past them, flicking her tail. “We won’t be hunting until we’re sure the borders are safe,” she reminded her apprentice.
“Yes, but after that.” Ivypaw bounded after the gray tabby she-cat.
Dovepaw followed, catching up to Lionblaze at the thorn tunnel. Brambleclaw, Cinderheart, and Ivypaw were already filing out of the camp.
Should I tell Lionblaze about Leopardstar?
“Come on, Dovepaw!” Ivypaw was calling her.
No. I’ll tell him later.
She slid past her mentor and plunged after her sister into the still-dripping undergrowth. The rainstorms had left the forest soft and yielding, the earth springy underpaw and fragrant. The sun was beginning to warm the forest so that steam drifted up through the branches.
Newly fallen leaves littered the ground, some still green, shriveled by the recent drought and battered early from their branches by the torrential rain. Dovepaw kicked her way through them as she reached Ivypaw. Purring loudly, she flung a pawful over her sister’s back.