Warriors: Power Of Three 2 - Dark River (23 page)

“I need more cobwebs!” Leafpool called to Jaypaw. Jaypaw spat out the poultice he had been licking into Brightheart’s tail and dashed to the back of the den. He returned with a mouthful of cobweb, which Leafpool pressed against Brook’s wound. A sodden red wad already lay on the cave floor.

“It will stop bleeding, won’t it?” Stormfur watched her anxiously.

“Yes,” Leafpool assured him. She pressed both paws on the wound. “Can you hold it like this?”

Stormfur nodded and placed his paws over Leafpool’s. She drew hers away and turned to inspect Brightheart’s tail.

“Oak leaf. Good choice,” she mewed to Jaypaw. “That’ll stop any infection. It’ll be healed in a few days.” She glanced back at Stormfur, who was staring at his paws as he held the cobweb to Brook’s side. “Any news of Hollypaw?”

“We didn’t get a chance to ask,” Brook admitted.

Leafpool sighed. “I suppose not,” she meowed. “I was just hoping they might have given something away.”

“WindClan hasn’t got her,” Lionpaw announced.

Leafpool pricked her ears. “How do you know?”

Lionpaw stared at the ground. “Well, surely, they would have told us if they had?” He glanced up at Leafpool. “Why else would they have her?”

“Then where is she?” Leafpool’s mew sounded desperate.

Lionpaw touched Jaypaw’s shoulder with his tail. “Can’t you ask StarClan?”

Jaypaw’s fur pricked, almost as if he were annoyed. “No.”

Leafpool snorted and padded to the back of the cave.

Lionpaw frowned. What was going on? “Why haven’t you asked them?” he pressed. “She’s our sister.”

“I haven’t had a chance yet.” Jaypaw lapped up another tongueful of oak leaf and began licking it onto Brightheart’s tail.

Lionpaw stared at his brother, his pelt itching with frustration. “Have you had a chance?” he mewed, turning to Leafpool.

Leafpool, cobweb dangling from her jaw, padded to Brook’s side. She dropped the pale web at Stormfur’s paws.

“It’s not always possible to speak with StarClan,” she explained. “If our warrior ancestors have something they want to share, then they’ll find a way.”

Was that the best they could do? Sit and wait? Lionpaw flexed his claws.

“Let me get something for your ear.” Leafpool padded back to her store of herbs.

“I could try and ask StarClan tonight,” Jaypaw whispered to him. Lionpaw felt even more puzzled. What was going on with these two? Didn’t Jaypaw want Leafpool to hear?

“This should help.” Leafpool brought back a poultice wrapped in a leaf. “Can you manage to rub this on yourself?

Jaypaw and I need to check the rest of the patrol.” She padded out of the den, followed by Jaypaw.

“Do you want some help?” Brightheart was already pawing open the leaf and rubbing her pad in the poultice. “I’m sure Hollypaw will turn up,” she comforted, wiping the ointment onto Lionpaw’s ear.

Lionpaw winced as it stung. “Jaypaw will find out where she is,” he mewed hopefully. Weariness swept over him again.

His night in the tunnels and then the battle had sapped his last pawful of energy. He ducked away from Brightheart’s paw. “I think that’ll be enough.”

“Yes.” Brightheart wiped her paw on her chest and turned to Stormfur. “How’s the bleeding?”

“I think it’s stopped.”

Lionpaw padded out of the den, his paws heavy as clay. He couldn’t wait to curl up in his nest and close his eyes. Worry pricked his drowsy thoughts. A warrior should always be battle ready. What if he’d been too tired to fight today?

“Lionpaw!” Ashfur was bounding toward him.

Lionpaw’s heart sank, but he twitched his whiskers and tried to look as bright as he could. “Do you want me to go hunting?” he offered.

“No.” Ashfur stopped beside him. “You look worn out. Get some sleep. You obviously need to catch up.”

Lionpaw stiffened. There was a hint of warning in his mentor’s mew. Did Ashfur suspect there was more to his exhaustion than an early morning run?

Lionpaw’s heart thumped in his chest. “I promise I’ll always be ready to fight!” he mewed. “I’m going to become the best warrior ThunderClan has ever known! Really I am!”

Ashfur’s whiskers twitched. “I’m sure you will.”

Lionpaw smelled mouse, warm and delicious. He blinked open his eyes. A piece of fresh-kill was lying on the moss beside his nest.

Honeypaw was standing beside it. “I thought you’d be hungry.”

Lionpaw stretched his paws till they trembled. “Is it late?”

“The sunset patrol has just got back,” Honeypaw reported.

“They brought this.” She dabbed her paw at the mouse.

“Have the kits and elders eaten?” Lionpaw asked.

“Of course.” Honeypaw sat down. “Hazelpaw says you really taught Breezepaw a lesson.” Her eyes sparkled. “She says he ended up in the stream.”

Lionpaw got to his paws. “Yeah.” His heart warmed at the memory. “I don’t think any WindClan apprentices will be hunting in our territory for a while.” A chill ran down his spine. What if it had been Heatherpaw hunting with Harepaw instead of Breezepaw?

“Lionpaw?” Honeypaw was staring at him. “Are you okay?”

Lionpaw shivered. “Just tired,” he mewed, faking a yawn.

“Okay.” Honeypaw shrugged. “We’re at the halfrock if you want to join us.” She padded out of the den.

Lionpaw gulped down the mouse and padded into the clearing to join his denmates. He chatted with them, acutely aware of Hollypaw’s absence, his paws itching for the other apprentices to go to their nests. He glanced at the moon, slowly crossing the sky, misted by thin clouds. Heatherpaw would be waiting for him.

Berrypaw and Hazelpaw were the last to head for the den, their gray-and-white pelts glowing in the darkness. As soon as they disappeared, Lionpaw padded quickly to the dirtplace tunnel. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure the clearing was still empty, he slipped out of the camp.

His ear was stinging from the cold night air by the time he reached the tunnels. He padded inside, the usual eerie sense of foreboding clutching his belly. But this time it was worse. There was something he had to do, something really difficult, but he couldn’t see any other way. However much it hurt . . . Pushing his dark thoughts away, he followed the twisting passageway to the cave. Heatherpaw was already there. She hurried to greet him, rubbing her nose along his cheek. She smelled warm and sleepy, as though she had just woken up.

“Your poor ear!” she gasped when she saw the blood-encrusted wound.

“It’s fine,” Lionpaw mewed.

“Is that your only wound?” Her eyes glittered with worry in the half-light. “Breezepaw said he’d shredded you!”

Lionpaw stepped back. She should be worried about her Clanmates, not him. He felt more certain than ever that he was about to do the right thing.

Heatherpaw tipped her head to one side. “What?” Could she sense the guilt pricking in his pelt?

Lionpaw gazed at her. “We can’t meet anymore.”

Heatherpaw’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“We just can’t.”

“But we’re having fun. Why do we have to stop? We’re not hurting anyone.” She sounded desperate, her voice coming out as a squeak.

“I think you’re great, Heatherpaw,” Lionpaw mewed. He stared at his paws. Why did she have to make this harder?

“But you need to find someone in your own Clan. I need to be the best warrior I can be, and I can’t do that if I’m here every night.”

Heatherpaw flinched as though he’d raked his claws across her nose. “It doesn’t have to be every night.” Her mew was little more than a whisper.

It doesn’t matter how often we meet! I shouldn’t be here at all! “I was looking out for you in the battle today,” Lionpaw told her.

“What if you’d been in that patrol?”

“You could have fought Breezepaw or Harepaw or—”

“Battles aren’t that simple, and you know it!” She must understand! “I can’t pick and choose. I have to defend my Clan. I can’t be worrying about you all the time.” He watched her gaze cloud with grief and his heart twisted with pain.

“That’s it, then?” she mewed.

“Yes.” He wasn’t going to show how close he was to changing his mind, to agreeing to see her once a moon, or maybe twice, or three times. . . . This was what he had to do.

Anger flared in her eyes. “Fine!” she snapped. “I understand now.” She turned away and padded toward the tunnel.

Before she disappeared into the shadows she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes brimming with pain. “I just hope being a warrior is worth it!”

Hollypaw wriggled against Willowpaw, trying to get comfortable.

There was hardly enough moss in this nest for one cat, never mind two. And how could Willowpaw sleep so soundly with the water constantly washing against the rocks?

Rain sprayed the lake, dripping from the overhang, puddling on the floor. Through the entrance to the cave, Hollypaw could see the rocky causeway, slick in the darkness.

She strained to see the ThunderClan shore far beyond it, but the air was murky and she could only just make out the shape of the distant forest against the cloudy predawn sky.

She had been in the RiverClan camp for two days. Leopardstar still insisted it was not safe for her to travel home, but every cat—Hollypaw included—knew she was being kept on the island to stop her from reporting RiverClan’s weakness to her Clanmates. She rolled over, her belly growling with hunger.

“Can’t you keep still?” Willowpaw sighed sleepily.

“Sorry.” Hollypaw’s heart ached. She was so far from home.

Willowpaw must have heard the sadness in her friend’s mew. She sat up and stretched, her eyes glowing sympatheti-cally in the half-light. “You’ll be able to go back soon,” she promised.

“How soon?”

“The dams should be finished in a quarter moon,”

Willowpaw mewed. “And we’ll be able to move back to our old camp. I’m sure Leopardstar will organize an escort for you then.”

A quarter moon! She couldn’t stay here that long! “But what about my Clan?”

“I know they’ll be worried,” Willowpaw commiserated.

“But think how pleased they’ll be when you get back.”

And angry. Hollypaw’s heart sank as she imagined Brambleclaw’s pelt pricking with annoyance; Squirrelflight’s gaze, sharp with disapproval.

“You won’t say anything, will you?” Willowpaw’s eyes grew round. “You won’t tell them about the island and the Twolegs?”

“No, not if you don’t want me to.” Hollypaw could guess why Willowpaw was so frightened about the other Clans knowing how much RiverClan had suffered. It would take at least a moon for them to recover even if they did manage to rescue their old camp.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Everything will be back to normal soon,” Willowpaw sighed.

“Yes.” Hollypaw felt the word catch in her throat.

Everything will be back to normal. She was no longer so sure that an end to RiverClan’s trouble would stop the hostility that had flared between the Clans. It was almost as if the long peace between the Clans had left the younger cats itching for battle and set the older warriors dreaming of past glories. She thought of the WindClan patrol she had faced with the RiverClan cats. They had bristled with so much aggression.

They hadn’t wanted to hear RiverClan’s explanation. Could this hunger for battle simply vanish like mist in the sunshine?

The sky was lightening behind the clouds. Across the causeway, the cats were stirring on the island. Hollypaw could see pelts moving among the trees, pelts already as familiar as those of her own Clan. Graymist was leading Sneezekit and Mallowkit down to the shore to drink. Mosspelt was heading over the tree-bridge with Beechfur and Pebblepaw. Such a small dawn patrol! Hollypaw knew that most of the warriors’

effort was being channeled into recovering the old island camp.

Mistyfoot padded from the trees and crossed the causeway, a slender fish drooping in her jaws. She dropped it in the puddle at the front of the overhang.

Mothwing lifted her head at the splash and stretched in her nest. “Thanks, Mistyfoot,” she yawned.

Hollypaw knew it was unusual for the Clan deputy to deliver food to the medicine den. She was painfully aware that Mistyfoot had come to check whether Hollypaw had escaped in the night. But she was grateful that Mistyfoot had chosen such a tactful way to do it.

“It’s not much,” Mistyfoot meowed. “But it should see you through the day.”

Hollypaw’s belly growled. The whole day! Food was so scarce here that some of the warriors went to bed hungry; she was lucky to be fed at all. But thankful as she was that RiverClan were prepared to feed their unwelcome guest, she couldn’t get used to the strange tang of fish and she longed for the musky flavor of forest prey.

“Intruder!” Mosspelt yowled from the tree-bridge.

Graymist instantly began herding her kits back to the island clearing. Hollypaw stiffened, scenting the air.

ThunderClan!

Hope fluttered like a bird in her chest. She strained to see through the drizzle. The dawn patrol were circling a cat on the far shore. Squirrelflight! She recognized her mother’s pelt and felt the same surge of excitement she used to feel when, as a kit, Squirrelflight returned to the nursery after a spell in the warriors’ den.

“You’d better come with me,” Mistyfoot growled. She turned and padded back along the causeway. Hollypaw leaped after her, forcing herself not to race past the RiverClan deputy. Her paws fizzing, she trotted onto the island and followed Mistyfoot to the clearing.

Pebblepaw bounded from the undergrowth. “She’s come to get Hollypaw!”

Behind him, the ferns rustled and Squirrelflight padded calmly into the clearing, flanked by Mosspelt and Beechfur.

Hollypaw tensed. Squirrelflight was alone. Would Leopardstar let them leave together? She glanced nervously toward the Great Oak and saw Leopardstar squeeze out from her makeshift den among the roots. The RiverClan leader was staring at Squirrelflight; Hollypaw could see uncertainty in her eyes and her golden pelt pricked along her spine.

“Leopardstar.” Squirrelflight halted in front of the RiverClan leader and dipped her head. “I have come to fetch one of our apprentices.”

Hollypaw wanted to race forward and brush muzzles with her mother, but Squirrelflight hadn’t even looked at her yet.