Warriors: Legends of the Clans

  But the weather had turned at last. The snow was melting so fast that every tree in the forest dripped like rainclouds. The air felt warmer, and there was a faint scent of greenness in the brittle undergrowth. Today was the first properly successful hunting patrol Pineheart had led since the previous leaf-fall, with every cat making a catch. The fresh-kill pile had returned, and he listened to his Clanmates’ paws squelching in the mud as they crowded around to take their share.

  Pineheart didn’t add his squirrel to the pile. Instead he carried it straight to Highrock and brushed past the brambles to duck inside the leader’s den. He may have grown scrawny, but he was still one of the tallest cats in ThunderClan, and his ears brushed the roof of Doestar’s cave.

  “Fresh squirrel, just for you!” he declared, setting it down in front of the cream-and-white she-cat. Curled in her nest, she blinked at him with clouded, unfocused eyes.

  Cloudberry’s apprentice, Goosefeather, stood up. “Look what Pineheart brought!” he meowed. He nudged Doestar with one paw. “Come on, don’t you want to try it?”

  Doestar turned her head away. “Put it on the fresh-kill pile,” she rasped.

  Pineheart crouched beside her. “There is plenty of food to feed the Clan,” he told her. “I caught this for you.”

  The leader shifted so that she was looking up at Pineheart. “The fresh-kill pile is full?”

  Pineheart nodded. “Every cat on my patrol caught something. New-leaf is here, Doestar! Everything is going to be okay.” He pushed the squirrel closer and Doestar bent to take a bite. Goosefeather met Pineheart’s gaze over the leader’s head, and nodded in satisfaction.

  Pineheart left Doestar eating and backed out of the cave. In the clearing, his Clanmates had gathered in little groups to share the fresh-kill. The pile had vanished, but Pineheart forced down the jolt of alarm in his belly. We will catch more tomorrow, he told himself. And the day after, and the day after that. ThunderClan does not have to starve anymore.

  Mumblefoot padded alongside him and brushed his tail against Pineheart’s flank. “We did well today,” the old warrior murmured. “Thank StarClan that they have spared us.”

  “Not all of us,” Pineheart mewed, looking through the leafless branches to the mounds of earth halfway up the ravine, beyond the walls of the camp. As well as Nettlebreeze, they had lost Harepounce, Stagleap, Hollypelt, and Flashnose; all starved to death in the bitter rains and endless, preyless leaf-bare moons.

  A scuffle beside the apprentices’ den dragged Pineheart back to the present. Rabbitpaw and Moonpaw were squabbling over the ears of a rabbit. Pineheart trotted over and placed his paw on the contested scraps. Before the great hunger, prey ears would have been buried in the dirtplace or used as playthings for kits. Long moons of starvation had turned them into highly prized treats.

  “Two ears, two of you,” he declared, pushing a scrap of skin and fur toward each apprentice. “And we are not starving anymore. There is plenty for every cat!”

  The young cats blinked up at him, a faint spark of hope in their eyes. Moonpaw’s silver-gray pelt hung loosely over her ribs, and her tail was dirty and matted.

  “No chores for the rest of the day,” Pineheart announced. “Stay here and clean yourselves up. We are warriors of ThunderClan, not homeless rogues.”

  As he turned away, he saw Cloudberry watching him. The medicine cat was so frail that Pineheart could hardly believe she had survived the hunger. Somehow she had clung to life, eating bark and dry leaves with the rest of the Clan when prey had vanished altogether. And here she was, still caring for them all, still fussing over her Clanmates as if they were her kits.

  Pineheart stopped alongside the medicine cat. “Is Doestar all right?” he asked quietly.

  Cloudberry blinked. “She is weak, like all of us.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Pineheart meowed. “I’m her deputy. I need to know if she is going to lose a life.”

  Cloudberry sighed. “This is her last life, and she knows it. She refuses to tell me how she is feeling, but I think she is more ill than any cat realizes. Prepare to say good-bye, Pineheart. StarClan will gather her to them soon.”

  Pineheart stared at the cat in alarm. “Her last life already? I . . . I had lost count.” He shook his head miserably. “She can’t leave us! I still have so much to learn before I become leader.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Cloudberry meowed. “You are a brave and skillful warrior, just like your father was. ThunderClan deserves to be led by a cat like you.” She touched Pineheart’s flank with the tip of her tail. “Have faith.”

  She limped away, her tail dragging in the mud. Pineheart headed back to the den below Highrock. Grief weighed in his belly like a stone, and he fought down the wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t become leader yet! It was too soon!

  Doestar was dozing, but she stirred when Pineheart settled down beside her. “Pineheart?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

  “Yes,” Pineheart replied. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Ah, no,” sighed Doestar. She wriggled deeper into her nest, which was lined with glossy black rook feathers. “Deerpaw was here just now. Did you see her?”

  Pineheart froze. Deerpaw was Doestar’s littermate, who had died during her apprenticeship. Had she come to take her sister to StarClan? “I don’t see her now,” he mewed carefully.

  “Good,” Doestar grunted. “She was bugging me to go somewhere, but I don’t feel like leaving my nest today. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go with her.”

  Please don’t! Pineheart thought. I’m not ready to become leader! Stay until the Clan is fit and strong again!

  “The apprentices hunted well today,” he meowed, changing the subject. “Heronpaw caught a pigeon all by himself.”

  Doestar let out a creaky purr. “He was always fast, even as a kit.”

  Pineheart felt a flash of relief that his leader had returned to the present.

  “I shall make them all warriors tomorrow,” Doestar announced abruptly. “They have served their Clan well through the hungry moons, and we all deserve to celebrate our survival.” She sat up, her eyes clearer now, looking more like her old self.

  Pineheart dipped his head. “That’s an excellent idea,” he purred.

  The she-cat reached out and rested her paw on Pineheart’s foreleg. “I am so pleased that you will take care of ThunderClan after me,” she mewed. “It was an honor to serve your father, and I am only sorry that I won’t be here to watch you lead the Clan as well.”

  “But that won’t be for a long time. . . .” Pineheart started to object, but Doestar silenced him by gently pricking his leg with her claws.

  “We’ve known each other too long to tell lies now,” she meowed. “I have reached my ninth life sooner than I expected, but ThunderClan will be safe with you. All of the Clans suffered this leaf-bare, but this only means they will want to prove their strength as soon as the warm weather returns. You must guard the borders fiercely, do you understand? Especially Sunningrocks. Your father never trusted RiverClan, remember.” Her eyes blazed in the dusky light.

  “I promise we will not lose Sunningrocks,” Pineheart told her. “ThunderClan will be as strong as it ever was, even if we have to fight all of our enemies in turn to prove it.” His heart started to pound and he unsheathed his claws into the hard earth floor of the den as he imagined leading his Clanmates into battle to defend their territory and their honor.

  Suddenly he realized that Doestar had slumped down into her nest, and her breath was coming in ragged gasps. “Doestar? Doestar, are you okay?” The she-cat stirred but didn’t sit up.

  Cloudberry entered the den behind Pineheart. She was carrying a bundle of soaked moss, which she set down beside the leader’s nest. “She’s okay, just tired,” the medicine cat mewed. “Leave her be, now.”

  Pineheart backed out of the den, unable to take his eyes from Doestar. Please don’t leave me yet! ThunderClan still needs you!

  CHAP
TER FIVE

  Pineheart stared at Doestar’s body, slumped in the middle of the clearing. Cloudberry lay beside her, almost as still and silent as the dead leader. She had forbidden any other cat to come close, frightened that the sickness that had taken Doestar so swiftly at the end might be infectious. Pineheart thought back to the last conversation he had had with Doestar, two sunrises ago. Had she known Deerpaw would come for her again so soon? At least she had been strong enough to hold naming ceremonies for Moonflower, Poppydawn, Heronwing, and Rabbitleap yesterday. ThunderClan’s newest warriors crouched at the edge of the clearing now, their heads bowed in sorrow.

  Cloudberry was speaking quietly to Goosefeather. Pineheart padded over to them, his paws feeling like stone. It was clear from Cloudberry’s hunched shoulders and dull, glazed expression that Goosefeather would be taking him to the Moonstone. “Shall we go?” Pineheart mewed. He looked back at Doestar again. “I never thought this would happen so soon. I don’t know if I’ll be half the leader she was.”

  “Doestar will watch over you from StarClan,” meowed Goosefeather. “You’ll be fine.”

  Pineheart felt a flare of hope in his chest. He had had little to do with Goosefeather, never imagining they would be leading the Clan together so soon. “Really? Have you had a vision?”

  Goosefeather nodded, but didn’t say anything more. “Come, we have a long journey ahead of us,” he meowed, and headed for the gorse tunnel.

  Pineheart had traveled to the Moonstone before, but this time it felt very different. The cavern beneath the ground was as cold as ice, and the Moonstone glittered so brightly that it hurt his eyes. He screwed them up, and when he opened them he was standing in a sunlit forest, his fur lifted by a prey-scented breeze and the sound of birdsong in his ears. Goosefeather stood a little way off, his gray pelt dappled with shade.

  “You came!” cried Doestar, trotting over the grass to meet him. The white patches on her pelt gleamed, and she looked strong and full-fed once more.

  Pineheart dipped his head. “Of course,” he murmured. Hardly daring to move, he looked out of the corner of his eye and saw more cats stepping from the trees. This is it! he thought. I am becoming the leader of ThunderClan!

  “I give you a life for survival, for rebuilding your strength after great hardship,” Doestar announced, resting her chin on his bowed head. A great force flowed through him, dazzled with sunlight, bursting with green leaves and rustling prey and the deafening noise of forest life.

  Then Doestar stepped back, and another cat approached. Pineheart felt his heart lift with joy at the sight of the broad-shouldered, glossy brown tom. Oakstar purred loudly. “I always knew you would be leader one day,” he meowed. “I give you a life for judgment, for knowing which path to follow, however hard it seems.” This time the force was sharper, more painful, stiffening Pineheart’s limbs and making him yelp. Then it passed, and his legs stopped trembling.

  He was overjoyed to see his former Clanmates Hollypelt, Harepounce, and Stagleap once more. “We miss you so much!” he blurted out.

  The StarClan cats nodded, their eyes filled with stars. They gave him lives for courage and loyalty, for knowing when to fight and when to choose peace.

  Next came Pearnose, an ancient ThunderClan medicine cat. His life was dedicated to trusting the wisdom of the leader’s closest companion in protecting his Clanmates; Pineheart glanced at Goosefeather, watching from the trees, and nodded.

  Two more lives came from cats so old that they were almost invisible against the soft green grass. A dark brown she-cat, Hawkfoot of WindClan, gave Pineheart the strength of a nursing queen when defending her young. As this life burned through his limbs, Pineheart thought of the kittypet in Twolegplace who had been ready to face all the warriors from the forest to protect her babies. Then an orange cat with huge paws and amber eyes approached.

  “I am Thunderstar,” he murmured, so quietly that Pineheart could hardly hear. “Every leader faces difficult choices. And yours will be the most difficult of all. Know that whatever decision you make, you will have to carry it for the rest of your life. If you can do that, then it will be the right one.”

  This life was different from the others, churning, toppling, dizzying, so that Pineheart felt as if he was being tumbled over and over, suspended in the air. When he felt his paws firmly on the ground again, he opened his eyes.

  A long-legged gray tom with pale blue eyes stood in front of him. “My name is Morningstar,” he rasped. “I give you a life for compassion for weaker cats, in your own Clan and others. Now go back to your Clan, Pinestar. Lead them well.”

  The ninth life blazed through Pinestar like icy fire, leaving him clearheaded and strangely calm. He looked around. The clearing was empty apart from Goosefeather, who was watching him closely.

  “I received my nine lives!” Pinestar whispered.

  The medicine cat said nothing. Pinestar felt a sudden longing to ask Goosefeather what his vision had been: Was ThunderClan going to rule the forest once more after the great hunger? What battles lay ahead, and which could be avoided? But Goosefeather was already walking away into the shadows beneath the trees, and Pinestar could do nothing more but hurry to catch up.

  “You don’t have to go out on patrol now that you’re our leader,” teased a soft voice.

  Pinestar paused just before entering the tunnel of gorse. Squirrelwhisker was lying outside the elders’ den, warming her belly fur in the sun.

  “Mumblefoot sent out two hunting patrols, and the border patrol has only just returned,” she went on. “Do you think they might have missed something?”

  Pinestar shook his head. “I just felt like stretching my legs, that’s all.” He had been leader for less than a quarter-moon and already he was feeling restless. He had less to do now than when he had been a warrior! Mumblefoot was proving an excellent choice as deputy, in spite of a few muttered comments about his age. Pinestar trusted him completely to organize the different patrols and duties, and he was well respected by the other cats. Pinestar knew he could join in with a patrol if he wanted, but he didn’t want his warriors to think he was interfering or trying to take on too many responsibilities at once.

  “You’re welcome to come with me, Squirrelwhisker,” he meowed, but the elder shook her head.

  “I was a warrior only a few sunrises ago,” she pointed out. “Let me enjoy the chance to lie in the sun, knowing that some other cat will catch my food!”

  Pinestar purred with amusement and ducked into the gorse. He leaped up the ravine and plunged into the forest, losing himself to the scents of new growth and prey and soft, damp earth. New-leaf had fallen upon the forest almost overnight, and it was becoming hard to remember the empty, hungry days.

  The sound of a patrol by Snakerocks prompted Pinestar to swerve toward the treecutplace. He didn’t want to be disturbed, not yet. He trotted over the needle-strewn earth below the pine trees and emerged from the trees into slanting rays of sunlight. The long wooden fence that edged Twolegplace felt warm as Pinestar settled himself against it, ready for a doze in blissful quiet before heading back to the camp.

  He was just drifting off when the fence behind him rattled, and there was a sound of scrabbling paws above his head. He opened one eye and looked up to see a ginger cat staring down at him.

  “What are you doing down there?” mewed the tom.

  “Trying to sleep,” grunted Pinestar.

  The fence creaked against his back as the cat jumped down into the long grass. Pinestar sat up.

  “Are you one of the wild cats?” asked the tom. His fur was thick and shiny, striped in several shades of orange, and his eyes were a startling light green. In fact, there was something about them that stirred one of Pinestar’s long-forgotten memories.

  “I’m from ThunderClan, yes,” mewed Pinestar. He decided not to mention that he was the leader of the Clan. He had a feeling this kittypet wouldn’t be impressed. Though his mother might be . . .

  The tom was studying him cl
osely with his head tilted to one side. “I think I’ve seen you before,” he announced at last.

  “You’re right.” Pinestar was astonished that the cat remembered him, since he couldn’t have been more than a half-moon old when they met. “You were with your mother when ThunderClan came into Twolegplace.”

  The kittypet wrinkled his nose. “What’s Twolegplace?”

  Pinestar nodded toward the fence. “Over there, where you live.”

  “That’s weird.” The tom rubbed his nose with a paw where a long strand of grass had tickled him. Then he looked at Pinestar, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “How come you’re talking to me? Are you supposed to chase me back over the fence and claw my ears to frighten me? That’s what the other cats say you do.”

  Pinestar couldn’t help feeling a glow of pride at his Clanmates’ fearsome reputation. “I don’t think you are a threat to ThunderClan,” he meowed.

  The young cat looked indignant. “I could be! You don’t know how good I am at catching mice and birds and squirrels!”

  “Well, are you? Good at catching mice?”

  The kittypet sat down with a thump. “Not really. But I did scare some rabbits once! They were inside a cage, and I sat on top of it all day until I got hungry. Then I had to go home.”

  Pinestar tried to hide his amused purr at the thought of getting hungry within paw’s reach of some rabbits.

  “My name’s Jake,” the kittypet mewed. He stood up and bobbed his head.

  “I’m Pinestar,” replied Pinestar.

  “Cool name,” purred Jake. “My mother is named Crystal, and my littermates are Ferris and Whiskers, but I don’t know where they live now.”

  “I remember your mother well,” meowed Pinestar. “She saved my life once, did you know that?”

  “Really? How?” Jake’s eyes stretched wide.

  “I got between a mother fox and her cubs when I was just an apprentice. Your mother scared the fox just enough for me to get away.”