The Forgotten Warrior

by Erin Hunter

  Jayfeather felt a flash of frustration. Like you didn’t have a kit of your own, even if your Clan never knew the truth. “That’s like punishing the whole Clan for one cat’s mistake!” he hissed.

  “It was a grave mistake.” Yellowfang’s voice was somber.

  “Then what do you mean about another medicine cat?” Jayfeather prompted. “Not Briarlight or Brightheart, surely? They know more than the others, but they haven’t had any real training. Brightheart hasn’t even been to the Moonpool.”

  Yellowfang lashed her scraggy tail. “You should know who I mean, mouse-brain,” she rasped. “ThunderClan has a third medicine cat—Cinderheart. Perhaps it’s time to tell her who she really is.”

  Jayfeather flinched. “You think so? Will she believe me?”

  “She will if you walk in her dreams,” Yellowfang meowed. “Take her back to the life she had before. All the knowledge is there; she just needs to reach out for it.”

  Disconcerted by the burning intensity in Yellowfang’s amber eyes, Jayfeather took a step back. “Wait. Cinderpelt was your apprentice; she doesn’t have to be mine. How can I train a new medicine cat with everything else that’s going on?”

  Yellowfang rolled her eyes. “You won’t need to train her!” she spat. “She already knows more than you do. She just needs to remember who she is.”

  Jayfeather bristled. “I’ll think about it,” he snapped.

  “Make sure you do,” Yellowfang mewed. “Or I might walk in her dreams myself.”

  That would scare Cinderheart out of her fur, Jayfeather thought, unable to imagine anything more unsettling for the young warrior.

  “All right, I’ll do it,” he growled.

  Yellowfang turned to leave, then glanced back over her shoulder. “You have to be ready for the worst battle the Clans have ever known,” she reminded him. “One medicine cat will not be enough!”

  Jayfeather woke to darkness. He was curled comfortably in the moss and fern of his nest in the medicine cat’s den; the air around him was warm, and full of the fresh scents of early greenleaf. But although his body was at ease, his mind was troubled, and he felt as if he had scarcely rested at all.

  Outside in the clearing, cats were moving around; Jayfeather could hear Brambleclaw’s voice as the deputy organized the patrols. Paws scampered closer to his den, and Cherrypaw’s voice rose above the background murmur.

  “Sol—come and watch us training, please!”

  “Yeah,” Molepaw added. “I’ve learned this really cool battle move I want to show you.”

  Jayfeather raised his head out of his nest and tasted the air. He could pick up the apprentice’s scent, along with Sol’s, just outside the bramble screen. Rosepetal and Cloudtail, who was still mentoring Cherrypaw, stood a couple of tail-lengths farther away.

  “That’s really not a good idea,” Rosepetal meowed. “Sol has better things to do than watch a couple of apprentices.”

  “And we want you to concentrate on your training session,” Cloudtail added, his voice cool with dislike of Sol. “Not showing off for a visitor.”

  “It’s kind of you to ask me,” Sol mewed to the two young cats. “But I have other duties right now. I’ll want to hear a full report of what you’ve learned when I get back.”

  Jayfeather heard a suppressed hiss from Cloudtail, and sensed a wave of annoyance rolling off him. He could understand what the white warrior felt. Sol is talking as if he’s our Clan leader!

  “Jayfeather?”

  Focused on what was happening outside the den, Jayfeather hadn’t noticed Brightheart dragging herself up to him.

  “Jayfeather, can I go and speak to Sol?” she asked.

  The eagerness in her tone irritated Jayfeather. “He’s not going to mend your back, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he snapped.

  “I wasn’t hoping for that,” Briarlight huffed. “I’m curious about him, that’s all.”

  “Well, don’t be,” Jayfeather retorted. “He’s nothing special.”

  “He saved the apprentices from the fox,” Briarlight reminded him.

  Jayfeather snorted. “Maybe.”

  I can’t believe Lionblaze and I got it so wrong, he thought. Sol was the last cat we were expecting to turn up.

  The apprentices and their mentors moved away. Sol loitered for a few more moments outside the den, then he, too, retreated in the direction of the entrance. Jayfeather hauled himself out of his nest and began to groom the scraps of moss and bracken from his fur.

  “Jayfeather!” Daisy’s voice came from the other side of the bramble screen. “Can you come and have a look at Sorreltail?”

  Leaving his grooming unfinished, Jayfeather brushed past the screen and out into the camp. Daisy was waiting for him a tail-length away.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Daisy admitted, falling in beside him as he padded toward the warriors’ den. “You’re the medicine cat. But I’ve seen a lot of cats near to giving birth, and I’m not sure I like the look of Sorreltail.”

  Jayfeather replied with a grunt. As he slid between the outer branches of the warriors’ den, his nose twitched at the musty scent of dried moss and fern. Most of the cats were already out on patrol; he located Sorreltail lying in a nest near the edge of the den, and picked his way through the bedding to her side.

  “Hi, Jayfeather,” the tortoiseshell warrior meowed. “You didn’t need to come. I’m fine.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Jayfeather muttered.

  Sorreltail’s voice sounded tired, and as Jayfeather sniffed at her he picked up her feelings of anxiety and exhaustion. “You’re trying to do too much,” he told her. “You’re less than half a moon from giving birth, and keeping up with your warrior duties is wearing you out.”

  “But last time—” Sorreltail began.

  “Like it or not, you’re older than the last time you had kits,” Jayfeather pointed out. “You need to slow down to give yourself a chance to stay in good health. Birth is a very difficult time.”

  Sorreltail sighed. “I know.”

  As both cats fell silent, Jayfeather felt her flank shudder beneath his forepaw, and he was plunged into a terrible whirlpool of memory. He felt Sorreltail’s agony as she gave birth; he shared her horror as the badger forced its way into the nursery. He saw Cinderpelt leap bravely to protect Sorreltail and heard her shriek cut off abruptly as the huge creature clamped its jaws on her neck and shook her. In the same heartbeat he heard the thin wail of a tiny gray kit, born as the medicine cat gave up her life.

  Jayfeather shivered. That was when Cinderpelt became Cinderheart. And now Yellowfang says that I need to bring her back, for the sake of the Clan.

  He started, jerked out of the memory, as he realized that Sorreltail was speaking again, her voice low and weary.

  “I know you’re right,” she mewed. “These kits need to have the best possible start. And if that means sitting around for this last half-moon . . . well, so be it!”

  “Thank you, Sorreltail,” Jayfeather replied. “You’ve made the right decision.” And made my job a lot easier, he added to himself.

  “Come on, then, Sorreltail,” Daisy mewed, bustling forward and nudging the tortoiseshell warrior to her paws. “Ferncloud and I have made you a really comfortable nest in the nursery.”

  Jayfeather’s anxieties faded as he edged his way out of the warriors’ den. It’s obvious Sorreltail is going to be thoroughly mothered before these kits arrive!

  Back in the clearing, Jayfeather listened for Cinderheart’s pawsteps, wondering whether this was the right time to speak to her. What in the name of StarClan am I going to say?

  His ears twitched as he heard paw steps padding toward him, but the scent that he picked up was Birchfall’s. “Are you busy right now?” he asked.

  “No,” the tabby tom replied. “Do you want something?”

  “Yes—Cinderheart,” Jayfeather replied. “If you see her, would you tell her I want a word wit
h her?”

  “Sure.” Birchfall padded off.

  Jayfeather headed for the warriors’ den, but when he paused to taste the air there was no trace of Cinderheart among the mingled scents. He stood lashing his tail with frustration. She must be out on patrol.

  Then a voice spoke close to his ear. “Are you looking for Cinderheart?”

  Jayfeather stiffened as Leafpool’s scent washed over him. How does she know that?

  “Yes,” he replied warily. “Have you seen her?”

  “Yes, but I need to speak to you first.”

  Jayfeather hesitated, unwilling to discuss Cinderheart—or anything else—with his mother. But he could sense Leafpool’s determination, and knew he wouldn’t be able to put her off. “Okay,” he sighed. “Go ahead.”

  “Not here,” Leafpool meowed. “Let’s go into the forest. I don’t think that what I have to say should be overheard.”

  Suppressing a sigh, Jayfeather followed her out of the forest and into the camp. As he padded beside her, he felt the usual sense of disbelief that Leafpool was his mother. Sometimes she felt more like a stranger to him than a cat from another Clan.

  Leafpool halted beneath a broad tree with noisy, rustling leaves; Jayfeather could hear the trickle of water close by. “So?” he demanded.

  “I had a dream last night,” Leafpool murmured; Jayfeather had to lean close to hear her. “Spottedleaf came to me, and told me that Yellowfang wants to tell Cinderheart about . . . about who she was before. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” Jayfeather replied.

  “Well, she can’t!” Leafpool burst out; Jayfeather winced at the lightning bolt of her emotions. “Cinderheart has been given the chance to live a different life, as a warrior and as a mother. If you tell her about her previous life, you will rob her of that chance.”

  Jayfeather could hear Leafpool tearing at the grass with her claws. He tried to interrupt her, but she ignored him.

  “I was Cinderpelt’s apprentice,” Leafpool went on. “I knew her well. I knew she had longed to be a warrior, a mate, and a mother, but all that was taken away from her when she had the accident on the Thunderpath. In spite of that, she was a good medicine cat, one of the best that ThunderClan will ever have. I won’t let her life be taken away from her again!”

  “But the Clan has to come first,” Jayfeather argued. “More medicine cats are needed.”

  Leafpool was silent for a moment. Both of them knew that she was a fully trained medicine cat quite capable of caring for her Clan, if only she hadn’t broken the medicine cat code, as well as the warrior code, by taking a cat from another Clan as her mate. But neither she nor Jayfeather mentioned that. The silence stretched out until it tingled between them as if a storm were about to break.

  “Individual cats are important, too,” Leafpool went on at last. “You could take an apprentice. Briarlight is already doing a great job.”

  “Oh, sure!” Jayfeather lashed his tail. “Wouldn’t that just be great? One medicine cat who can’t see, and another who can’t walk. ThunderClan would be invincible!”

  “I know you see much more than the rest of us,” Leafpool stated calmly. “You can’t use that as an excuse. But I’m telling you, Cinderheart deserves a different life this time. That’s why StarClan gave her a second chance. Spottedleaf said so, in my dream. I won’t let you spoil everything for her again.”

  Without giving Jayfeather a chance to respond, she rose and walked away.

  Jayfeather stayed beneath the tree, thoughts swirling in his head. He had to admit that Leafpool had a point: If StarClan had interfered enough to let Cinderheart have another life, he knew there must be a very good reason for it. And Yellowfang isn’t thinking straight at the moment, he reminded himself. She’s too closely caught up in the rivalries inside StarClan, and her fear of the Dark Forest.

  Jayfeather returned slowly to the camp, still unsure about what he should do. Before he had even reached his den, he picked up Cinderheart’s scent and heard her paw steps approaching.

  “Birchfall said you were looking for me,” she meowed. Her voice was cheerful. “Do you need me to do something?”

  As clearly as if he could see, Jayfeather was aware of Leafpool’s gaze fixed on him. He took a deep breath. “Nothing important,” he told Cinderheart. “It can wait until another day.”

  Chapter 10

  Ivypool slid cautiously through the Dark Forest. It seemed positively crowded now, as busy as a disturbed anthill, with clusters of cats training in every clearing, racing along every path, and splashing through the sludgy river. Anxious not to be called into a training session, Ivypool clung to the shadows, her senses alert for traces of one particular cat. Hearing voices, she dived into the middle of a clump of ferns, then poked her head out warily to spot Tigerheart and Mapleshade a few tail-lengths ahead.

  Ivypool felt her heart begin to pound faster. She had been terrified of Mapleshade ever since the old she-cat had almost drowned her in the river in a so-called training exercise. Now Mapleshade looked paler than ever; Ivypool’s eyes widened as she realized that she could see the tree trunks behind the she-cat’s misty shape.

  But Mapleshade’s eyes still burned as she leaned close to Tigerheart. “The Dark Forest will rise up and stamp out the Clans,” she told him, her voice a spitty, rasping hiss. “StarClan will bow down to us, and the warriors who chose not to join us will be punished beyond the end of their lives.”

  Horrified, Ivypool shrank back among the ferns. Tigerheart was listening intently, nodding as the old she-cat went on.

  “Every cat who ever lived will know—” Suddenly Mapleshade broke off, sniffing the air. “I smell fear,” she growled. Ivypool’s heart almost stopped as the pale she-cat’s baleful gaze swept past the ferns where she crouched, shivering. “Who has come here with insufficient courage to face their Clanmates?”

  Mapleshade swung her massive, scarred head around, still sniffing. Then she hauled herself to her paws and stalked in the opposite direction from Ivypool, pushing through dead, slimy brambles. Ivypool stayed very still, trying not to let her breath stir the fern fronds around her.

  “Snowtuft!” Mapleshade snarled. “I might have known! You mangy pile of dung, get back into the fight and show some mettle.” Ivypool winced at the sound of a heavy blow and a high-pitched shriek of pain.

  Several heartbeats passed, and at last Ivypool realized that Mapleshade wasn’t coming back. Swallowing her fear, she emerged from the ferns and padded up to Tigerheart. The ShadowClan warrior sat grooming himself, passing one paw over his ears; he glanced up casually as she approached. “Sneaking around, Ivypool?” he mewed.

  “Just looking for you,” Ivypool replied carefully. Tigerheart had seemed to lap up what Mapleshade was telling him; if he really agreed with her about destroying all the Clans, he was a dangerous enemy. “What’s this about Dawnpelt?” she asked. “Dovewing said you tried to warn her at the Gathering.”

  Tigerheart’s gaze raked over her contemptuously. “Are you worried I said something about what happened with Flametail? You shouldn’t be. I haven’t told Dovewing anything—not for your sake, but because I don’t want her to know what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Ivypool hissed, her neck fur beginning to rise.

  “Only because I stopped you,” Tigerheart growled.

  Ivypool’s claws worked in the cold, dark grass. “It was a test! What could I do?”

  “Nothing could justify you destroying my brother’s spirit,” Tigerheart retorted.

  Ivypool knew that he was right. But there’s no way I can tell him. I have to hide the fact that I’m spying for ThunderClan. “So what’s all this about Dawnpelt?” she prompted.

  Tigerheart hesitated. “Dawnpelt blames Jayfeather for Flametail’s death in the lake,” he meowed at last.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Ivypool exclaimed.

  Tigerheart shook his head, his hostility swallowed up in sadness. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose a litter
mate,” he told Ivypool. “You want to blame anyone, anything. Not just a crack in the ice.”

  Ivypool felt a claw-scratch of sympathy. I couldn’t bear it if I lost Dovewing. Then she reminded herself that Tigerheart had been listening to Mapleshade’s tirade. She couldn’t trust him. He doesn’t deserve pity!

  “I don’t know what Dawnpelt thinks she can do against ThunderClan,” she went on aloud. “Or maybe you’re thinking of bringing her here?”

  “That’s not up to me,” Tigerheart replied.

  “I’m sure you could put in a good word for her,” Ivypool suggested mockingly.

  Tigerheart didn’t react. Before Ivypool could say anything else, the ferns parted again and Hawkfrost emerged into the open.

  “There you are, Ivypool!” he hissed. “Come with me. You’re keeping the other apprentices waiting.” He turned and padded off without waiting for a reply. Ivypool winced at being called an apprentice. But why should I care? she asked herself, shocked. Do I wish I were a Dark Forest warrior?

  Padding after the dark tabby tom, Ivypool wondered if the Dark Forest had anything to do with Sol turning up. There’s something about Sol that I don’t trust. Especially with all the stories the elders tell about the time the sun vanished! Maybe the Dark Forest is plotting to hide the sun again.

  Gathering her courage, Ivypool sped up until she was walking beside Hawkfrost. “Do you know Sol?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  Hawkfrost twitched an ear. “Who?”

  “Sol,” Ivypool repeated. “The cat who arrived in ThunderClan five sunrises ago. He was here before, when the sun vanished.”

  “Ah,” Hawkfrost mewed. “That was after my time in RiverClan, but I know what happened. What about him?”

  “I just wondered if he had . . . er . . . ever been here.”

  Hawkfrost paused, narrowing his ice-blue eyes as he gazed at her. “So, you want to know if Sol is a true Clanmate?”

  “Yes,” Ivypool mewed, trying not to flinch under that freezing gaze. “Something like that.”