Warriors: Power Of Three 4 - Eclipse (15 page)

Hollypaw pointed with her nose at the figure standing motionless on the hill.

Sorreltail shook her head. “It’s just a cat.” She peered harder.

“Doesn’t look like WindClan, though. It’s far too stocky and long-haired.”

Hollypaw blinked, realizing Sorreltail was right. But for a moment it really had looked like a lion; she’d heard of them in stories whispered in the nursery when she was a kit—huge and fierce, rising like the sun to defeat all their enemies.

“We’ve reset the markers!” Brackenfur called from the treeline. “We should head back so the dawn patrol can leave.”

Sorreltail turned and dashed away to join him. Hollypaw dragged her gaze from the strange cat still standing on the horizon. Was it watching them?

“Hollypaw reckons she saw a lion,” Sorreltail told Brackenfur and Thornclaw as they padded back to camp. “On the moor.”

“A lion?” Brackenfur’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Are you sure you weren’t still dreaming?”

“No, I wasn’t!” Hollypaw mewed defensively. “And it did look like a lion.”

“It did look strange,” Sorreltail agreed. “Not a WindClan cat, that’s for sure.”

“Just so long as it doesn’t cross our border,” Thornclaw growled.

Cinderpaw was nosing her way out of the medicine cat’s den as Hollypaw padded into camp. She limped around the clearing, heading for the thorn tunnel.

Hollypaw fell in beside her. “Where are you going?”

“Swimming.”

“On your own?” Hollypaw asked in surprise.

“Jaypaw’s busy sorting herbs, and Leafpool says I’ll be okay if I take it slowly.”

Hollypaw noticed that Cinderpaw’s words were no longer punctuated with gasps of pain. “Is it feeling better?”

“Lots.” Cinderpaw stopped and stretched. Her injured leg trembled with the strain, but she didn’t flinch.

“Can I come with you?” Hollypaw asked.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Not anymore.” The sight of the “lion” on the moorland had jerked her wide-awake.

Cinderpaw purred. “I’d love the company.” She glanced sideways at Hollypaw. “Do you want me to teach you how to swim?”

Hollypaw shivered at the thought of a cold, wet pelt. “No, thanks!”

They padded nose-to-tail through the thorn tunnel. The sun was climbing the sky, warming the forest, and birds chattered in the trees. Hollypaw loved how the woods had lost the neat crispness of early greenleaf and had grown unkempt and disheveled, the undergrowth spilling over paths and trees sending willowy shoots out from among their roots. It seemed that the forest was fuller and lusher than ever.

She slowed as they climbed the slope toward the lake, so that Cinderpaw could match her step for step despite her limp.

“Have you seen how Honeyfern keeps following Berrynose with that drippy look on her face?” Cinderpaw mewed.

“Oh, yes!” Hollypaw agreed. “Anyone would think he was StarClan’s gift to the Clan!”

“Can’t she see what a bossy know-it-all he is?”

“I think she likes him almost as much as he likes himself.”

“Then it must be love!” Cinderpaw’s whiskers twitched.

“That reminds me! Have you noticed how Birchfall has started sharing tongues with Whitewing?”

“The nursery could start getting crowded,” Hollypaw purred.

“I don’t know if there’ll be room once Millie has her kits,”

Cinderpaw mewed. “Leafpool says there’re going to be at least three.”

“Has Millie chosen names yet?” Hollypaw wondered if Cinderpaw had heard any gossip while she’d been confined to Leafpool’s den.

“Leafpool says a kit needs to be seen before it can be named.”

“Then I must have been a prickly kit,” Hollypaw joked.

It was good to talk about nothing in particular. It was like things used to be, before the prophecy. For the first time since returning from the mountains, she felt like an ordinary apprentice again.

But she wasn’t. A stab of envy jabbed her belly. Cinderpaw could chat like this forever, with no worries about being more powerful than her Clanmates. Her only ambition was to become a warrior and do the best she could for her Clan.

I have so much more to aim for. Hollypaw frowned. And I don’t even know for sure what that could be.

A warm breeze circled the hollow, drawing the night scents of the forest into the camp. The moon was high; Jaypaw could feel its light wash his pelt. He shifted his paws, stiff from waiting.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” he whispered to Leafpool through the brambles covering the entrance of the medicine cats’ den. She’d sent him outside when his pacing had knocked the poppy seeds flying across the floor. She was gathering them up now.

“I could help you clean up,” he offered.

“No, thanks,” Leafpool called back. “You just keep your ears pricked for any noise from the nursery.”

Millie had been circling her den restlessly since sunhigh, and, though her pains had not started properly, Leafpool had warned her the kittens might come anytime. The rest of the camp was asleep, except for Graystripe, who kept his own vigil outside the nursery. Jaypaw tried not to let the fear drifting from the gray warrior taint his own thoughts.

Millie will be fine.

The nursery brambles shivered, and paws pattered over the clearing.

“The kits are coming!” Daisy called, keeping her voice low.

Leafpool darted out of her den. “Follow me,” she hissed to Jaypaw.

Jaypaw hurried after her, his heart racing as Leafpool and Daisy squeezed into the nursery.

“Look after Millie.” Graystripe’s anxious growl made him jump. The warrior was so close their pelts touched. “If you have to choose which life to save, save hers.”

Before Jaypaw could answer, he was swept into Graystripe’s memory. A silver tabby she-cat lay in a pool of blood at the bottom of a ravine. Grief wrenched Jaypaw’s heart, and he fought to escape the vision, relieved when he blinked and found the world black once more.

“Leafpool won’t let anything bad happen,” he promised as he scrabbled inside the nursery. He was scared of sensing any more of Graystripe’s pain. He must have loved the silver she-cat very much.

Millie was panting hard. She yowled low and long as Jaypaw slid in beside his mentor. “Is she okay?” he whispered.

He had missed the birth of Daisy’s kits and was excited to be witnessing Millie bringing new life into the Clan.

“She’s doing fine,” Leafpool soothed.

“If this is what fine feels like,” Millie croaked, “StarClan save me from—” Another spasm silenced her.

Rosekit and Toadkit were wriggling in the corner of the den, their paws scrabbling on the moss.

“Stay back!” Daisy mewed sternly, her fur brushing theirs as she held them.

“I want to see the kits!” Rosekit complained.

“Is there any blood?” Toadkit squeaked.

“Shh!” Leafpool hissed.

Millie was panting again, hard.

“You’re doing well,” Leafpool assured her.

“Where’s Graystripe?” Millie begged.

“He’s just outside,” Jaypaw told her.

“Good.” Millie sighed as the spasm left her. “Don’t let him come in, not yet.”

Leafpool wrapped her tail over Jaypaw, drawing him closer.

“Here,” she mewed, grasping his paw gently between her jaws and resting it on Millie’s swollen flank. “Another spasm is coming. They come like waves lapping the shore, one after another, growing faster and stronger.” Jaypaw felt a thrill of anticipation as Millie’s flank tensed and rolled beneath his paw.

“Her muscles are working to push the kits out,” Leafpool explained. “In a moment she’s going to have to help by pushing too.”

“Now?” Millie asked.

“Not yet.” Leafpool rested her paw beside Jaypaw’s as the spasm subsided. Calm radiated from the medicine cat like moonbeams. Jaypaw was impressed. His own heart was pounding so hard he was sure the others must be able to hear it.

“Now!” A new spasm gripped Millie, and Jaypaw felt the queen tense and tremble as she pushed with all her might.

“The first one’s coming,” Leafpool encouraged. “I can see it.”

Millie pushed again, and Jaypaw smelled a new scent, warm, both musky and fresh at the same time.

Leafpool shuff led along until she was crouched at Millie’s tail. “Look,” she whispered to Jaypaw. He leaned over and sniffed the damp bundle wriggling under his nose.

Leafpool’s cheek brushed his as she lapped at the newborn kit. “I’ve opened the sac so it can breathe air for the first time.”

Millie gasped.

“The next one’s coming,” Leafpool announced. Daisy pushed past Jaypaw and dragged the first kit out of the way. Jaypaw could hear her tongue scraping the kit’s soggy pelt. “Are you washing it?” From the sound of it she was licking the fur the wrong way.

“This will warm it and help it start breathing,” Daisy told him. Jaypaw leaned in close and heard a tiny gasp as the kit drew in its first mouthful of air.

Millie gave a low moan, and another damp bundle fell onto the moss. “Here.” Leafpool nosed Jaypaw toward it. “Nip open the sac to release it.”

Suddenly feeling nervous, Jaypaw licked at the wriggling mass, feeling the membrane slimy on his tongue. Careful to avoid the soft flesh beneath, he nipped at the delicate sac. It split between his teeth and tore open so that the kit tumbled out, squeaking and struggling. “This one’s breathing already,”

he told Leafpool.

“Good,” she mewed. “Now lick it like Daisy is doing.”

Sniffing first to find the kit’s head, he began licking it from tail to ear. Soaked to the skin, it had grown cold quickly, but it soon began to grow warm and dry beneath his tongue.

Millie shifted behind him, and her nose pushed past to sniff at her kits. Then she fell back again with a groan.

“Another one’s coming,” Leafpool announced.

Millie yowled, softer this time, as though the pain were easing.

“There we go,” Leafpool murmured as a new bundle plopped out. “That’s the last one.” Millie turned and released it from the sac. She started to purr, lapping at its wet body.

“One male and two females,” Leafpool told her.

Millie sank back into her nest, still purring, and Leafpool lifted the two female kits and laid them at the queen’s belly.

“They need milk,” she explained to Jaypaw.

Jaypaw picked up the kit he’d been washing and laid it beside the others; it immediately wriggled toward the warmth of its mother, scrabbling to latch on. He sat back and listened to them suckling, their tiny purrs drowned by their mother’s, and a wave of wistfulness swept over him as he smelled the warm, milky scent.

“You’re lucky to be born in ThunderClan,” he whispered to them, thinking of the prophecy for the first time that night.

The brambles rustled as Graystripe pushed his way in.

Leafpool must have called him. He crouched beside Millie, and Jaypaw heard him snuffling the queen’s fur, relief flooding from his pelt.

“You have two daughters and one son,” Millie told him, sounding tired.

“They’re perfect,” Graystripe replied softly.

Millie struggled to prop herself up so that she could look down at her suckling babies. “The tom looks just like you,”

she commented. “Big and strong already, though he has more black stripes than you.”

“He looks like a bumblebee,” purred Graystripe. “How about we call him Bumblekit? And the dark brown she-cat could be Briarkit.”

“That sounds good,” Millie agreed. “I’d like to call the lit-tlest one Blossomkit. The white patches on her tortoiseshell fur look just like fallen petals.”

“Bumblekit, Briarkit, and Blossomkit,” Graystripe murmured. “Welcome to ThunderClan, my precious children.”

“They’ll be all right now,” Leafpool mewed to Jaypaw.

“Daisy will keep an eye on them and call us if they need anything.”

She wriggled out of the den, and Jaypaw followed her into the moonlight. As they padded back to their den, he felt a surge of pride—for Millie, for himself, and for Leafpool.

“You did well.” Leafpool brushed her muzzle against his cheek as if she could tell how he felt inside.

“Thanks.” Jaypaw licked her ear. Their quarrel was a long way from his mind right now. “That was the most amazing thing ever!”

“Yes, it was,” Leafpool murmured.

Was that sadness in her mew? Jaypaw wondered. She certainly didn’t seem as elated as he was; his paws felt lighter than the breeze, as if he could fly right out of the hollow and over the trees. Perhaps Leafpool had helped so many cats give birth that it didn’t stir her anymore. Or perhaps she was envious of the way the tiny kits knew instantly who their mother was, and loved her fiercely from their very first breath. Jaypaw’s paw steps slowed as he tried to imagine how Leafpool really felt watching new lives being born. Did she feel sorry that she would never have kits of her own?

Jaypaw slept late. When he finally padded out into the clearing, his thoughts bleary with sleep, hot sunshine warmed his back. The fresh-kill pile smelled delicious, and, hungry after his night’s work, he dragged a mouse from the top and began to eat.

“I heard you delivered your first kits!” Hollypaw hurried up to him and rubbed his cheek with her muzzle. “I wish I could have been there.”

“It was great,” Jaypaw mewed between mouthfuls.

Graystripe squeezed out of the nursery. Happiness shone from him warmer than the sun as he padded across the clearing.

“Congratulations, Graystripe!” Longtail called.

Cinderpaw paused from her washing as Graystripe passed the apprentice den. “Is Millie all right?”

“She’s perfect,” Graystripe answered. “And so are the kits.”

“I can’t wait to see them!” Icepaw was bouncing around the clearing.

“We’ve seen them already!” Toadkit boasted. “Bumblekit is going to play with me when he’s a bit bigger.”

“They’re really cute!” Rosekit added. “Especially Blossomkit. She’s so tiny!”

Jaypaw could hear Graystripe nosing through the fresh-kill pile.

“Millie will be hungry,” Mousefur called from outside the elders’ den.

“And she’s going to eat the best piece of prey I can find,”

Graystripe called back.

Sorreltail kneaded the ground. “What do the kits look like?”

“Briarkit is dark brown, Blossomkit is tortoiseshell and white,” Graystripe reported, “and the tom, Bumblekit, is gray with black stripes.”