Warriors: Power Of Three 4 - Eclipse (17 page)

“Be quiet!” Jaypaw pricked his ears, afraid Whitewing might be close. “None of the others must know!”

“But we should warn them!” Foxpaw mewed.

“Who do you trust more?” Jaypaw snapped. “This stranger?

Or StarClan? Spreading gossip like this will only cause panic.

You must think like warriors, not kits.” Praying this would be enough to keep them quiet, he shooed them toward camp and followed them as they scampered through the thorn barrier.

Lionpaw, with the scent of trees lingering on his pelt, hurried to greet Jaypaw. “What did you find out about him?

Hollypaw told me you’ve been into the forest to talk.”

“Leafpool and Sol did the talking.”

“What did they say?”

Jaypaw pricked his ears. Firestar was speaking to Sol.

“A patrol will escort you to the border,” the ThunderClan leader meowed.

“We’ll make sure he crosses it,” Dustpelt growled from the barrier, where he waited with Sandstorm and Spiderleg.

Jaypaw felt his paws grow hot as Sol began to pad toward them.

“Well?” Lionpaw pressed.

Sol’s faint, unfamiliar scent filled his nostrils.

“Don’t forget.” Sol leaned close as he passed. “Darkness is coming.”

“What did he say?” Lionpaw demanded as Sol headed out through the tunnel.

Jaypaw stifled a shiver. “It doesn’t matter,” he mewed.

“Why don’t you two go to sleep?” Lionpaw grumbled, circling in his nest yet again.

Icepaw and Foxpaw had been whispering in the dark ever since Whitewing had sent them to their nests. With only five apprentices left in the den, the noise seemed louder than usual.

Hollypaw was asleep with her tail covering her ears, and Cinderpaw snored gently beside her. Didn’t Icepaw and Foxpaw need rest, too? Lionpaw tried to make himself comfortable, but his moss felt lumpy.

“What are you whispering about, anyway?” he hissed at the two young apprentices.

“Nothing important,” Foxpaw mewed.

Lionpaw wriggled, feeling a pebble deep in his nest. Perhaps that was what was making him so uncomfortable. He rooted down through the moss, feeling for the stone and wishing he were asleep.

The whispering started again.

“Shut up!” Lionpaw hissed.

“It wasn’t us!” Icepaw retorted indignantly.

Lionpaw tensed. Who was it then? He sat up in his nest.

Something was moving outside. A faint shadow flickered over the branches of the den. Lionpaw tasted the air. A musky tang filled his mouth. Not ThunderClan.

He froze.

WindClan!

Had they come to ask for help? But why now, under cover of darkness? He crept to the entrance of the den.

“Where are you going?” Foxpaw whispered.

“Shh!”

Peering out, Lionpaw saw thin shadows streaming through the thorn tunnel. The light-footed shapes were filling the clearing, hardly visible under the moonless sky.

He blinked in disbelief. An invasion?

“Attack!” Lionpaw screeched the alarm and shot from the den. He slammed into a WindClan cat, surprised that the wraithlike warrior felt so real. Noise exploded around him as, snarling and hissing, the WindClan invaders turned on him.

He lashed out at the barrage of paws, keeping his hind paws firmly planted against the onslaught.

Then he dropped and crouched, letting the attackers fall in upon themselves, and wriggled out of the melee.

ThunderClan warriors were streaming from their den, pelts bristling, eyes wide with shock. Hollypaw raced into the clearing with Cinderpaw, Icepaw, and Foxpaw at her heels.

“Why are they attacking us?”

This was no time for questions.

“Circle the clearing and pick off the outsiders!” Lionpaw ordered.

He ducked as a WindClan warrior leaped for him, then arched his back. His attacker rolled clumsily over him, landing wrong-footed as Lionpaw spun and leaped for his throat.

Only just in time, he re-aimed his attack, biting the WindClan warrior sharply behind the ear and rolling him to the ground. I nearly killed you! Lionpaw realized how close he’d come to tearing this warrior’s throat out. “Get out of my camp!” he hissed, hooking the warrior with his forepaws and raking his belly with his hind. Or I will kill you!

The WindClan warrior wriggled from his grasp but didn’t flee, only disappeared into the throng of cats fighting in the clearing. Lionpaw tried to follow him, but the WindClan warrior’s pelt disappeared into the gray, writhing mass.

A f lash of white! Cloudtail was shouldering his way through the crowd. Sandstorm’s pelt glowed at the far side of the battle; close by, Lionpaw could make out the white-patched pelts of Sorreltail and Brightheart. Whitewing was outside the elders’ den, slashing side by side with her apprentice, Icepaw, at an advancing line of WindClan warriors.

Graystripe reared up at the entrance to the nursery, battering a WindClan cat with such force that it scrambled backward, hissing, into the crowd.

Brightheart rolled past him, grappling with a spitting WindClan tom.

Graystripe grabbed the tom, hooking him away from his Clanmate and tossing him aside like fresh-kill. “Get inside the nursery!” he yowled.

While Brightheart slid inside the nursery to defend the queens and kits, Graystripe planted his paws at the entrance, his glittering eyes daring any cat to come close.

“Lionpaw!” Ashfur’s yowl sounded from the elders’ den.

“Get over here!”

Lionpaw scooted around the edge of the battle, ducking past flailing paws. Whitewing and Icepaw were still fighting the oncoming WindClan warriors, their fur darkened with blood.

“We’ve got to get Longtail and Mousefur onto Highledge,”

Ashfur growled. “I’ll help Whitewing and Icepaw hold this lot off.” He rolled onto his back and shoved a WindClan warrior away with his hind paws. “You guide Longtail and Mousefur up the rocks to the ledge.”

Lionpaw glanced at Icepaw, grappling with a young WindClan tom. Her eyes shone with fury as she battered his ears with blow after blow.

“Get on with it!” Ashfur screeched.

Lionpaw darted into the elders’ den. Longtail and Mousefur were crouching at the back of the honeysuckle cave, fur bristling, claws unsheathed.

“You need to follow me to Highledge.”

“We should be fighting,” Mousefur spat.

“You may have to,” Lionpaw told her. “But for now, it’ll be easier to chase WindClan off if we don’t have to worry about you.” He knew it was blunt, but there was no time for tact. All their lives were at stake. He checked the den entrance. Ashfur and Whitewing were pushing WindClan back. Icepaw, her muzzle glistening with fresh blood, had fought off the tom.

She narrowed her eyes, then lunged at the hind legs of the WindClan warrior battering Whitewing.

They’d created a gap in front of the den big enough to guide the elders through. Lionpaw turned and nudged Mousefur out, then Longtail. He slid alongside them, shielding them from lashing tails and thrashing paws as they made their way to the tumble of rocks leading to Highledge.

Hurry up! He willed Mousefur on.

Longtail was already climbing the rocks, but Mousefur was hobbling as though each step was a struggle. Leaning against her, Lionpaw took her weight and guided her upward.

“Stop!” Firestar stood on the ledge above them, eyes blaz-ing with rage. His yowl rang like thunder around the walls of the hollow.

Lionpaw halted and the cats grew still, all eyes turning to the ThunderClan leader.

“How dare you?” Firestar roared.

The mass of cats parted to reveal Onestar in the midst.

The WindClan leader had led the attack himself! Lionpaw stiffened. This was no raiding party. This was war.

Starlight glittered in Onestar’s eyes. “We dare because we are true warriors,” he meowed evenly. “This battle has been too long coming. ThunderClan must learn that they are not the most important Clan in the forest.”

Firestar listened, still as rock.

“You watch the suffering of others, waiting to be begged for help like you belong to StarClan.” Onestar lashed his tail.

“We will not beg. We are warriors! We will fight for the prey and the territory we need to survive.”

Firestar’s eyes grew wide. “So you invade our camp?” The ThunderClan leader was outraged.

“We want to make sure you get the message,” hissed Onestar. “You think being a warrior means saving mountain cats and rescuing strays. We think it’s about taking care of our Clan.”

That’s unfair! Where would any of the Clans be now if it weren’t for Firestar? Lionpaw dug his claws into the loose rock to stop himself from leaping at the WindClan leader’s throat.

Firestar leaped down from Highledge, landing lightly, and padded toward Onestar. The Clans drew back to let him pass.

He stopped, unblinking, a whisker away from the WindClan leader. “If you want a battle,” he growled, “then you have one.”

Onestar flicked his tail and Lionpaw tensed, ready to push Longtail and Mousefur up to safety when the camp exploded once more into battle. But, to his astonishment, the WindClan cats turned and swarmed out through the thorn tunnel, their paw steps fading into the forest as the barrier grew still.

“Ha!” Icepaw bounded forward. “They’re too scared to fight us!”

Dustpelt narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t make sense,” he growled. “Why go to the trouble of attacking at night and then leave? They had the advantage. We were totally unprepared.”

“We’re not unprepared now,” Foxpaw mewed, flicking his back legs out in a well-rehearsed battle move.

“I want a patrol to follow them,” Firestar ordered. “I want to be sure they’ve left our territory.”

“I’ll go!” Dustpelt volunteered at once.

Firestar nodded. “Take Birchfall, Cloudtail . . .” He glanced around his Clan.

Lionpaw leaned forward.

“. . . Ashfur and Lionpaw, you go with them.”

Yes! Lionpaw bounded down the rocks.

“Is anyone wounded?” Firestar called. Leafpool and Jaypaw were already weaving among the warriors, bundles of herbs in their jaws.

Whitewing was licking the blood spatters from her pelt.

Firestar looked at her anxiously. “Whitewing?”

“Just a few scratches,” she meowed. “Mostly WindClan blood.”

“Good.” Firestar nodded. “I want you to lead a patrol to the ShadowClan border to make sure all’s quiet there. Take Brackenfur and Sorreltail.”

Hollypaw padded forward. “Can I go?”

“Yes,” Firestar agreed. “Icepaw, you go with them too.” He looked at Graystripe, who was still guarding the nursery.

“Do you want me to go?” Graystripe volunteered.

“No,” Firestar answered. “We need strong warriors to protect the camp in case WindClan return, and I can’t think of anyone who would defend the nursery more fiercely than you.

“Brambleclaw!” He turned to his deputy. “Why wasn’t the entrance guarded tonight?”

Brambleclaw’s gaze darkened. “The extra patrols have stretched us to the limit.”

“Guard it now,” Firestar told him. “From now on, it will be guarded day and night, patrols or no patrols. We shall just have to manage on less sleep till this danger passes.”

Mewling sounded from the nursery, and Graystripe stiffened. Brightheart popped her head out. “The kits are frightened but they’re all okay.”

Toadkit slid out beside her. “I wanted to see the battle!”

Brightheart grabbed him by the scruff and scooped him back inside.

“Sandstorm.” Firestar turned to his mate. “The thorn barrier must be strengthened. We’ll weave in all the extra brambles we can find. I want everyone working together.”

Sandstorm dipped her head.

Lionpaw raced to the entrance, where Dustpelt was already waiting with Cloudtail. Ashfur and Birchfall joined them.

Dustpelt flicked his tail. “Ready?”

Cloudtail nodded. Birchfall kneaded the ground. Lionpaw could hardly keep his paws still. He wanted to watch WindClan as they fled like cowards over the border.

“Come on.” Dustpelt turned and pounded into the forest, and Lionpaw followed, blood roaring in his ears.

The woods smelled of WindClan, and Lionpaw wrinkled his nose. Warriors? They were nothing but thieves and bullies.

Perhaps we’ll catch them before they reach the border. His paws itched for battle. He would beat WindClan just like he’d beaten the mountain cats. They were both scrawny bunches of prey-stealers.

Cloudtail raced into the lead, signaling for the patrol to slow down. He was the Clan’s best tracker; no WindClan scent would escape him. He led them straight for the border, stopping and sniffing at twigs and leaves before nodding and moving on to the next scent.

As they neared WindClan’s part of the forest, he halted beside a low-spreading yew. He sniffed it and then turned his head, ears pricking. Padding into a dip, he sniffed at a bramble and frowned. He jumped onto the bank, which led down to the border stream, and opened his mouth to draw in scent.

Shaking his head, he glanced back at his Clanmates.

“What is it?” Dustpelt demanded.

“They split up here,” Cloudtail meowed.

Dustpelt flattened his ears. “They did what?”

Cloudtail flicked his tail toward the yew. “One group went that way.”

Toward the old Thunderpath! An ominous feeling rumbled in Lionpaw’s belly.

“Another went that way.” Cloudtail was pointing his nose toward the lake. “And the other—”

Birchfall cut him off. “The other?”

Cloudtail was looking upstream. “The other group has gone deeper into the woods,” he finished.

Lionpaw gulped. That was where the tunnel entrance lay.

“Then none of them have crossed back over the border?”

Ashfur circled his Clanmates, pelt bristling.

“Not as far as I can tell,” Cloudtail meowed. “This is as close to the border as the scents go.”

“Isn’t there any fresh scent on the border at all?”

Cloudtail shook his head.

Ashfur narrowed his eyes. “So they didn’t come in this way either.”

“They must have crossed the moorland border,” Birchfall guessed.

Lionpaw prayed it was true. But he couldn’t forget the fox den he had found. Had WindClan found it too? Had they used it to invade ThunderClan territory? He fought down the urge to race to the thicket and check for WindClan scents.