Warriors: A Vision of Shadows #6: The Raging Storm

by Erin Hunter

  Everyone expected they would be mates soon, especially Finleap. He hardly left her side, he purred at all her jokes, and he brought her prey from the fresh-kill pile every evening. She was lucky to have him.

  And yet she wasn’t sure she was ready to become mates. She had not been a warrior for very long, and she had an apprentice who needed training. Lots of training!

  More than anything, she wanted to prove she was worthy of ThunderClan. She had changed her mind so many times as an apprentice, leaving for SkyClan and returning again. She wanted ThunderClan to know she was loyal. And she was determined to earn the Clan’s respect. She didn’t have time to worry about a mate yet.

  “Come on!” Finleap padded toward Snappaw and Flypaw. Snappaw had flattened his belly to the earth and was enthusiastically hissing at Flypaw. Flypaw lashed her tail and pretended to hiss back. Finleap stepped between them and beckoned them to their paws with a flick of his tail. “You won’t win any battles by making faces,” he purred.

  “We weren’t making faces,” Snappaw mewed indignantly. “We were being fierce.”

  “I’ve seen fiercer hedgehogs.” Twigbranch stepped over the scattered sticks and joined them.

  Flypaw blinked at her eagerly. “What are you going to teach us?”

  “Follow me.” Twigbranch led her apprentice away from Finleap and Snappaw. She didn’t want anyone watching her first attempt at battle training. Stopping at the edge of the clearing, she brushed away twigs with her paws. “Let’s see how you react to an ambush.”

  Flypaw’s ears twitched nervously. “An ambush?”

  “Walk along the edge of the clearing. I’m going to attack you from the side. Keep your balance. Don’t let me knock you off your paws.” It seemed to Twigbranch like an easy lesson. Why did Flypaw look so worried?

  “Will you tell me when you’re about to attack?” the striped tabby asked.

  Twigbranch blinked. “The whole point of an ambush is surprise.”

  “But I’m still learning.”

  “This is the best way to learn.” Twigbranch shifted her paws and hoped she was right. Before Flypaw could ask any more questions, she pushed through the bracken surrounding the small clearing and ducked behind the stems. She waited for Flypaw to start walking. But Flypaw was watching Finleap and Snappaw train. They tumbled over the sandy earth. Snappaw struggled free of his mentor and leaped clumsily to his paws. “Let me try again!”

  “Flypaw!” Irritably, Twigbranch twitched her tail.

  Flypaw snapped her gaze guiltily toward the bracken and began pacing along the edge of the clearing. Keeping low, Twigbranch shadowed her. She was pleased to see Flypaw’s ears pricked and her tail centered. The apprentice was clearly alert. Tensing, Twigbranch prepared to pounce. As she bunched her muscles, a bird gave a warning cry overhead. Flypaw looked up at it just as Twigbranch leaped. Twigbranch slammed into her. With a startled yelp, Flypaw lost her balance and rolled onto the ground.

  Twigbranch leaped to her paws. “That was easier than tumbling a sparrow!” She glared down at Flypaw, not giving her a chance to answer. “You knew I was going to ambush you! Your legs should have been braced for the attack!”

  “The bird distracted me!” Indignantly, Flypaw scrambled to her paws.

  “You live in a forest! If you get distracted every time you hear a bird, you’re never going to learn how to fight, or hunt!” Twigbranch shook out her pelt crossly. Flypaw was so unfocused! How would she teach her anything? While Snappaw, Spotpaw, and the others were earning their warrior names, she’d still be trying to teach Flypaw how to stalk butterflies! I’ll look like the worst mentor ever.

  “Let’s try it again,” Flypaw mewed. “I’ll be ready next time.”

  “Try saying that to a ShadowClan patrol when they steal your prey.” Twigbranch pushed her way through the bracken once more and waited for Flypaw to start pacing. “Keep low, and push your weight through your paws as you walk,” she called through the stems.

  Flypaw dropped her belly and padded awkwardly around the clearing. Twigbranch sighed. She looks like a duck. Shadowing her, she followed her apprentice for a few tail-lengths, then leaped. Exploding from the bracken, she slammed into Flypaw’s flank. Flypaw shrieked with surprise, threw her forepaws into the air, and twisted before losing her balance and thumping onto the earth.

  Twigbranch stared at her. “That was the worst defensive move I’ve ever seen.”

  Flypaw found her paws and shook the dust from her fur. Her eyes were round. “I didn’t expect you to hit me so hard.”

  “I was ambushing you!” Twigbranch snapped. “This isn’t the nursery. You’re not play-fighting now.”

  Flypaw glared at her. “You want me to fail,” she accused. “That’s why you’re making it so hard. How am I meant to know what to do if you just keep knocking me off my paws?”

  Twigbranch pressed back her frustration and tried to remember what it had been like when she’d first started training. It seemed such a long time ago. “Okay.” Forcing her mew to be gentle, she looked at Flypaw. “Place your paws like this.” Reaching out, she adjusted each of Flypaw’s legs until the young tabby was standing square and firm. “Now sink down into your pads, as though you’re as heavy as a badger.” She watched as Flypaw flexed, finding strength in her stance. “This time, I won’t come out of the bracken. You’ll see me leap. Just try to keep your balance.”

  Flypaw nodded, her eyes dark with concentration.

  At least she’s trying. Twigbranch took a few steps back, then leaped at Flypaw’s flank. It was a soft attack, but firm, and she pushed hard against Flypaw, relieved to feel resistance as she threw her weight against the young she-cat. Flypaw staggered, but kept low and didn’t fall.

  Twigbranch dropped lightly back onto all fours. “Not bad,” she conceded. “Considering you knew the attack was coming. I’m not sure there’s enough strength in your legs to withstand a surprise attack, but we can work on that.”

  “I thought she did well.” Finleap’s mew took Twigbranch by surprise. The brown tom padded toward them, Snappaw bouncing at his side. “She has a firm stance. And she’s smaller than you. But she still managed to stay on her paws.”

  Twigbranch frowned at him. “I’m not sure she deserves that much praise,” she cautioned. “She’s got a lot to learn.”

  “We’ve both got loads to learn.” Snappaw wove happily around his littermate. “It’s going to be fun! Finleap has already taught me how to dive under a cat’s belly. You should teach Flypaw how to do that. Finleap says it’s a useful technique for smaller cats. He says I’m a natural.”

  “I’m not sure I’m a natural.” Flypaw’s ears twitched crossly.

  “Of course you are!” Finleap reassured her. “With Lionblaze and Cinderheart as parents, how could you be anything else?”

  Flypaw’s eyes brightened, and Twigbranch felt a twinge of irritation. If Finleap spoiled Flypaw with praise, would she even try to improve her skills? “There’s no such thing as a natural warrior,” she meowed curtly. “Skill comes with hard work and training.”

  “You must be very skilled. You trained for moons,” Flypaw muttered.

  The apprentice’s words stung. Twigbranch flattened her ears. She had only trained for so long because she had gone from one Clan to another. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been ready. “The first thing a warrior must learn is respect!”

  Flypaw stared at the ground.

  Finleap whisked his tail. “Why don’t you two clear the last few sticks?” He nodded to Flypaw and Snappaw. “Twigbranch and I are going to check the border. Meet us there when you’re done. We can show you how to lay markers. Is that okay with you, Twigbranch?” He didn’t give her a chance to agree, but nudged her out of the clearing and along the rabbit track that led to the ShadowClan border.

  “Did you hear what she said to me?” Twigbranch was indignant. “That’s what you get when you praise them too much. Cheeky fox! I should have clawed her ears.”

  “Do you want
her to be scared of you?” Finleap didn’t look at Twigbranch as he padded at her side.

  “She might listen to me more, if she were.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “She has the mind of a butterfly! Always distracted. Always wishing she were doing something else.”

  “You’ve only been training her for three days,” Finleap reasoned. “She probably has strengths you haven’t seen yet.”

  “I’ll never see them if you keep telling her she’s a natural!” Twigbranch huffed. “She won’t bother to learn.”

  “I just wanted to encourage her.”

  “Encourage your own apprentice,” Twigbranch snapped. “Leave mine alone.”

  Finleap stopped and gazed solemnly at Twigbranch. “I’m just worried you’re being too sharp with her. You don’t want to discourage Flypaw before she’s learned anything. Don’t you remember how unhappy you were when Sparkpelt was hard on you?”

  “That was different.” Twigbranch’s pelt pricked uncomfortably. Sparkpelt had been judgmental and unforgiving as a mentor when Twigbranch had rejoined ThunderClan. It had made her miserable. “Sparkpelt was just testing my loyalty.”

  “Did your loyalty need testing?”

  “No!” Twigbranch turned away. Mentoring was challenging enough without Finleap criticizing her. “I’m just doing what I think is right!”

  “I know.” Finleap spoke softly. “It’s scary having so much responsibility. And these are our first apprentices. But it’s okay for us to make mistakes and it’s okay for them to make mistakes. We’re learning together.”

  “But I’m supposed to know what to do.” A lump sat in Twigbranch’s throat like a stone.

  “Why?” Finleap wove around her and stopped as he caught her eye. “You’re a great warrior, Twigbranch. And you’re kind. You don’t have to stop being kind just because you’re a mentor. Trust your instincts. Push Flypaw when she needs pushing, but encourage her too. You must know how good a little encouragement can feel when you’re facing something new and difficult.”

  There was warmth in his gaze that touched Twigbranch’s heart. He really cared whether she’d be a good mentor. He wanted her to succeed. She purred and touched her nose to his.

  “Besides,” he went on, “mentoring will teach us patience. Imagine what good parents we’ll be when we have kits.”

  When we have kits! Twigbranch pulled away. Finleap’s gaze was misty. Was he really thinking about having kits already? They weren’t even mates yet. Twigbranch wasn’t ready to be tied to the nursery. She was barely ready to think about having a mate.

  She changed the subject. “Let’s check the border.” She didn’t want to hurt Finleap’s feelings. “Flypaw! Snappaw! This way!” she called to the apprentices, scanning the bracken until they appeared, then turned and headed along the trail toward ShadowClan’s territory.

  Flypaw caught up to her as she reached the scent line. “Is this the border?”

  “Can’t you smell it?” Twigbranch opened her mouth and tasted the stench of ShadowClan mingling with ThunderClan scent.

  Flypaw copied her, frowning with concentration. “Is that musky smell ShadowClan?”

  “Yes.” Twigbranch followed the scent line. The markers were fresh. She stopped beside the root of a pine and left her own marker. “Leave your scent on the next tree,” she told Flypaw.

  As Flypaw crouched beside the trunk, Finleap and Snappaw sniffed the trees a few tail-lengths away.

  Finleap wrinkled his nose. “It smells like ShadowClan cats have been leaving scent marks twice a day.”

  Twigbranch shrugged. “They’re probably just pleased to have their territory back.”

  “I guess.” As Finleap padded to her side, Snappaw hurried ahead with Flypaw.

  “Can we mark every tree?” Snappaw asked.

  “It’s a long border,” Finleap told him. “Save some scent for farther along.”

  Flypaw was sniffing a fern clump. Curled fronds poked up from the moist earth. “There are so many scents out here.” She turned to sniff between the roots of a tree where fresh grass was sprouting. Then she dug through a heap of rotting leaf mold and sniffed until she sneezed. “What does a mouse smell like?” she asked.

  Snappaw padded past her. “You’ve smelled mouse before!” he meowed. “We’ve eaten them in camp.”

  “I’ve never smelled a live mouse.” Flypaw blinked at Twigbranch. “Do they smell different from dead mice?”

  “That’s a good question!” Finleap commented before Twigbranch could answer.

  She shot him a look. Let me train my own apprentice. “Live mice smell sharper than dead ones,” she told Flypaw.

  “Sharper?” Flypaw looked puzzled.

  “They have a . . .” Twigbranch searched for the word. “A tang. You’ll understand when you smell one.”

  But Flypaw had turned away. Twigbranch flexed her claws with irritation. Was it always going to be hard to keep Flypaw’s attention?

  The striped tabby’s ears were pricked. “I can smell something else,” Flypaw mewed.

  “Is it tangy?” Snappaw lifted his muzzle. “Are there mice around?”

  Twigbranch tasted the air. The scent markers were so strong here it was hard to detect another scent. But Flypaw was right. A musky smell tainted the air.

  “It smells like a ShadowClan cat,” Finleap meowed.

  Twigbranch’s pelt prickled. Was a patrol approaching the border?

  Finleap stalked along the border. “This way,” he breathed. “Follow me, but be quiet.”

  Snappaw and Flypaw hurried behind him, bumping into each other as they tried to stay close. Twigbranch followed. Another scent was mingled with the ShadowClan smell. Blood. She quickened her pace. Skirting past Finleap, Flypaw, and Snappaw, she took the lead. She strained to see between the tree trunks and, pricking her ears, heard a groan. Breaking into a run, she hurried toward the sound.

  A large bundle of silver mesh was caught between two trees. Beneath the mass of thorny twine was a brown-and-white pelt. Puddleshine, the ShadowClan medicine cat, was struggling underneath it, groaning with pain. The scent of blood was strong.

  “Puddleshine!” She hurried toward him, careful not to touch the vines, which massed like brambles between the trees. Borage sprouted around him. Was that what he’d been reaching for? She could see that his pelt was caught on the sharp thorns of the vines. Blood welled at every wound.

  “Don’t move. You’ll make it worse.” Panic fluttered in her chest as she met the ShadowClan medicine cat’s agonized gaze. “We’ll get you out,” she promised. “Just lie still.”

  Finleap caught up, Flypaw and Snappaw at his heels.

  “What is this?” Flypaw stared at the mesh, her eyes wide with horror.

  “It’s silverthorn. A Twoleg vine,” Finleap explained. “They use it to make barriers around their land. The thorns keep animals trapped in their meadows. Only StarClan knows why they left a bundle of it here.”

  “I can reach him.” Snappaw dropped onto his belly and squirmed beneath the silverthorn.

  “Be careful!” Finleap warned.

  Snappaw wriggled toward Puddleshine. “We’ll get you out,” he told the medicine cat.

  “Every time I move, I get more tangled.” Puddleshine sounded weary with pain.

  Finleap looked at Flypaw. “Can you find your way back to camp?”

  Flypaw nodded.

  “Run home and fetch help. Tell Bramblestar that we’ll need many paws to get Puddleshine out. And we’ll need a medicine cat. He’s bleeding badly.”

  Twigbranch called to Snappaw. “Go with her. We’ll stay with Puddleshine.” She didn’t trust Flypaw to fetch help alone. What if she forgot the message or got distracted along the way?

  Snappaw wriggled from underneath the silverthorn, and the two apprentices hared away between the trees, urging each other to run as fast as they could.

  Twigbranch flattened herself to the ground and peered at Puddleshine through th
e silverthorn. “They’ll be back with help soon.”

  Puddleshine looked at her, his eyes glittering with pain. “The thorns are sticking in everywhere,” he meowed weakly.

  The borage leaves around him were stained with his blood. Twigbranch could see where the thorns jabbed through his pelt, tearing his fur on both flanks and along his spine. One had snagged the back of his neck, forcing his chin to the earth. She fought back a shudder and blinked at him encouragingly. “Our warriors will find a way to get you out.”

  Finleap padded around the edge of the tangled mass, sniffing at the vines, as though looking for a gap that might let him reach Puddleshine. He poked his paw beneath a vine and lifted it gently. The whole bundle shivered, and Puddleshine grunted with pain. Finleap frowned. “It’s going to be hard not to hurt him.”

  “With many paws working together, we can do it.” Twigbranch didn’t take her eyes from Puddleshine.

  Overhead, birds chattered excitedly. The newleaf sun reached warm claws through the canopy and made the budding leaves glow so that the forest seemed swathed in an emerald haze. Twigbranch grew stiff as she held Puddleshine’s gaze. Finleap circled the silverthorn. At last, the thrumming of paw steps sounded through the earth.

  “They’re coming!” Finleap lifted his head toward the swish of leaves as Bramblestar burst first from the bracken. Blossomfall, Thornclaw, and Bumblestripe slewed to a halt beside him. Behind them, Alderheart was carrying a thick wad of cobwebs between his jaws. He dropped them on the ground as Molewhisker and Larksong caught up.

  Bramblestar padded around the tangled silverthorn, anger sparking in his gaze. “Don’t Twolegs have enough territory where they can dump their rot without leaving it on our land?” Even as he spoke, his gaze was darting over the silverthorn. Twigbranch guessed he was looking for the best way to lift it from the ShadowClan medicine cat.

  Alderheart ducked down and blinked at Puddleshine. “Do you know how many wounds you have?”

  “I’ve lost count. It hurts too much.” Puddleshine stared back desperately.

  “I’ve brought you poppy seed.” Alderheart reached for the wad of cobweb and picked poppy seeds from the sticky strands with his teeth. He flattened himself beside Twigbranch, spat the poppy seeds onto his paw and reached beneath the vines. With a groan, Puddleshine stretched forward and lapped them up.