The Forgotten Warrior

by Erin Hunter

  “You will, don’t worry,” Crowfeather growled, digging his claws into the earth.

  Dovewing repeated what she could hear to Firestar, who twitched one ear in surprise.

  “That’s almost word for word what I said to ThunderClan,” he murmured. “Has Onestar mentioned Sol at all?”

  Dovewing kept listening, but the WindClan leader had gone on to give Ashfoot instructions about hunting patrols.

  “Not a word,” she replied to Firestar.

  “Then either he doesn’t know what Sol is planning,” Firestar mewed, “or he’s being very careful about what he says. At any rate, it doesn’t sound as if the attack will happen anytime soon. Can you see Sol?” he added.

  Dovewing cast her senses out again, carefully searching the WindClan camp, then widening her focus to take in the whole of the WindClan territory as far as the horseplace. Sweeping back toward the ThunderClan border, she encountered one of the tunnel entrances and tried to penetrate the tunnels, but after a few fox-lengths the weight of stones and earth blocked her from continuing.

  Returning to reality in Firestar’s den felt like coming back to the surface after sinking for a long time into dark water.

  “Not a trace,” she replied to Firestar’s question. “He doesn’t seem to be in WindClan, unless he’s down one of the tunnels. My senses don’t work too well underground.”

  Firestar nodded thoughtfully, not speaking.

  “I suppose it’s too much to hope that Sol has gone away?” Dovewing suggested after a moment.

  “No, he’s still here,” Firestar assured her. “He has a score to settle with the Clans—I just don’t know why.”

  When Firestar dismissed her, Dovewing ran lightly down the tumbled rocks to find Bumblestripe waiting for her.

  “Brambleclaw went ahead with the others,” the young warrior explained. “He asked me to wait for you and show you where we’re going to train.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Dovewing mewed. It felt comfortable to head across the clearing beside Bumblestripe.

  “What did Firestar want?” the gray tom asked. “Are you in trouble?”

  “No, it was just . . . stuff.” However much she liked Bumblestripe, she couldn’t tell him what Firestar had asked her to do. That would take a whole moon to explain!

  “Firestar has never invited me into his den,” Bumblestripe continued, sounding slightly envious.

  Dovewing shrugged. “It was no big deal.”

  Leading the way through the thorn tunnel, she realized that she wanted to push her special powers to the back of her mind when she was with Bumblestripe. She just wanted to be an ordinary cat. It’s a nice change from when I was with Tigerheart! Then I always had to be listening to make sure no other cats found us.

  Brambleclaw had taken the rest of the group to a small clearing on the ShadowClan side of the territory, not far from the dead tree. Holly and elder bushes lined the rim of a shallow dip, which was filled with long grass and ferns.

  When Dovewing and Bumblestripe arrived, Brambleclaw was sitting at one side of the hollow, watching Toadstep and Blossomfall as they stalked around each other. Without warning, Blossomfall darted in, skillfully hooked Toadstep’s legs from under him, and delivered a blow to his hindquarters before leaping back out of range.

  “Well done,” Brambleclaw meowed. “You’ve got that move perfectly, Blossomfall.”

  Toadstep scrambled to his paws and shook scraps of fern out of his pelt. “She sure has!”

  Brambleclaw looked up as Dovewing and Bumblestripe padded down the slope to join the others. “Good, you made it. Now I’m going to show you a new move.”

  “Great!” Blossomfall exclaimed, bounding over to Bumblestripe. “Come on,” she urged him, “let’s work on it together.”

  Bumblestripe looked briefly embarrassed. “Er . . . sorry, but I’m going to partner with Dovewing.”

  Blossomfall’s ears shot straight up in surprise. “Excuse me, but who’s your littermate?” she muttered. “You could show a little loyalty, you know.”

  Dovewing was slightly shocked at Blossomfall’s hostility. Why is it such a big deal? “I don’t mind if you partner with Blossomfall,” she told Bumblestripe.

  “No, Blossomfall’s being ridiculous,” Bumblestripe retorted. “Of course I’m not being disloyal if I partner with you.”

  “Do you mind?” Brambleclaw rose to his paws and padded over to them, his strong shoulders thrusting the ferns aside. “Stop twittering like a lot of starlings and let’s get on with it.”

  Blossomfall spun around, stuck her tail in the air, and stalked across the clearing to Toadstep.

  “I’ll demonstrate the move first, and then you can try it yourselves,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Dovewing, you’re a WindClan cat. Come and attack me.”

  Instantly Dovewing let out a yowl and hurled herself at the Clan deputy. Brambleclaw reared up on his hindpaws, his forepaws stretched out with claws sheathed. As Dovewing tried to duck under his guard and claw his exposed belly, he flipped backward, away from her. She lost her balance, and as she tried to recover Brambleclaw leaped on her and braced his forepaws on her belly.

  “Like that,” he purred, stepping back to let her get up.

  Dovewing rolled over and sprang up to see the Clan deputy watching her with a faint trace of pride in his amber eyes.

  “That’s brilliant!” she panted. “Let’s try it.”

  First Brambleclaw made them practice the backflip until they could do it and land squarely on their paws. When he was satisfied and let them work with their partners, Dovewing was surprised at how strong and agile Bumblestripe was.

  It’s been a long time since I trained with him, one on one like this. He’s so bulky, I’d expect him to be slow. . . .

  As Bumblestripe flipped neatly away from her attack, Dovewing’s paws skidded out from under her. She flopped onto her side; while she was struggling to get up Bumblestripe sprang toward her and reached out with one forepaw to touch her gently.

  “I win, I think,” he mewed, his eyes narrowed with amusement. “Paws belong on the ground, not in the air.”

  Huh! Dovewing thought, stung. When Bumblestripe attacked her, she backflipped on the opposite side, catching him unawares. The gray tom missed his footing and landed hard among the ferns, his paws flailing.

  “What was that about paws going on the ground?” Dove-wing teased as she pounced on him.

  “Why don’t we watch each other?” Blossomfall suggested when all four cats had practiced the move several times. “We might pick up some helpful tips that way.”

  Brambleclaw nodded. “Okay. You and Toadstep go first.”

  Watching the other pair, Dovewing noticed how good Blossomfall was already, both in attacking and performing the new move. She had worked out how to stay balanced, and knocked her weight into Toadstep before he could recover from the backflip.

  “Blossomfall, that’s really great!” she told her Clanmate. “You’ll have to be a bit faster, Toadstep.”

  Toadstep nodded. “I’m working on it.”

  When it was her turn to demonstrate with Bumblestripe, Dovewing felt that they had both done pretty well. She was surprised to see Blossomfall looking at her with a disdainful expression.

  “Bumblestripe was fine, but Dovewing, you need to do a lot more work,” she meowed. “Your paws were all over the place. And you seem to have forgotten that you even have a tail. It’s there for balance, you know.”

  Dovewing muttered something noncommittal, embarrassment flooding over her until every hair on her pelt burned. “Blossomfall wouldn’t have said that if you hadn’t chosen me as your partner,” she whispered to Bumblestripe. Trying to set her own hurt aside, she added, “I’m sorry if I’ve made things difficult between you.”

  Bumblestripe rested his tail comfortingly on Dovewing’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s not you causing the problem,” he mewed, glaring across the clearing at his sister.

  “I think that’s enough for one session,
” Brambleclaw announced. “Back to camp, all of you, and take your pick of the fresh-kill pile. You’ve all worked hard.”

  “You should walk with Blossomfall now,” Dovewing murmured as the group moved off. “Littermates are more important than friendship.”

  Bumblestripe paused and gave her a long look. “I was kind of hoping that what we have is more than friendship,” he mewed at last.

  Dovewing stared at him, not knowing what to say. To her relief, Bumblestripe didn’t press her. He just ducked his head and trotted off, catching up with Blossomfall and touching his nose to her ear.

  Dovewing padded on; a moment later Toadstep bounded up to join her.

  “What’s going on between you and Bumblestripe?” he asked with a little mrrow of amusement.

  Dovewing felt her neck fur beginning to fluff up, and forced it to lie flat. “Bumblestripe is a great cat,” she replied calmly.

  As she spoke, an image of Tigerheart popped into her head: the gleam of green eyes as he thrust his dark tabby head out of a clump of ferns. Resolutely she pushed it away. That was different. I can’t think about him anymore, she decided. Tigerheart can’t be part of my life . . . but Bumblestripe could be.

  Chapter 17

  Jayfeather pushed through the thorns into the camp just after sunhigh. The chill dawn wind had dropped as he journeyed back from the Moonpool, and warm light bathed the clearing. The stone hollow was deserted, and Jayfeather realized that all the warriors and apprentices would be out on patrol. He was heading for his den when he heard Mousefur’s voice.

  “Jayfeather! Come here a moment.”

  Jayfeather padded across and found the elder crouching alone outside her den. “Where’s Purdy?” he asked.

  “Hollyleaf took him for a walk in the forest,” Mousefur replied. “I didn’t want to go. My legs are aching too much.”

  “We can sort that out,” Jayfeather assured her. “I’ll go and fetch you some daisy leaves.”

  “I didn’t call you over for that,” Mousefur snapped at him. “It’s about Hollyleaf.”

  Jayfeather stood frozen with shock as Mousefur described the scene that had taken place in camp that morning. “Then Brambleclaw told every cat that he’d seen what happened,” she meowed. “That Ashfur attacked Hollyleaf and then fell into the stream by accident. I was sitting right here and I heard everything.”

  She paused and Jayfeather could feel her gaze burning into his pelt. His mind was whirling. What does it all mean? What’s going to happen, now that every cat thinks they know the truth? What happens if the real truth comes out?

  “You knew this all along, didn’t you?” the old cat asked shrewdly.

  Jayfeather nodded.

  “But you said nothing?”

  “What was the point? Hollyleaf had gone, and the situation was more complicated than it looked because of Ashfur’s threats. He threatened me, too, you know.”

  Mousefur sniffed. “So it suited you to have him dead.”

  “It suited the whole Clan,” Jayfeather retorted, refusing to be disconcerted by the elder’s plain speaking. “Ashfur was determined to cause trouble for every cat.”

  “I won’t say that no harm was done,” Mousefur grunted, “because harm has been done. To Ashfur, to Hollyleaf, to Brambleclaw, to you. And now the Clan has to carry on as normal, is that what you want?”

  Jayfeather licked one paw and drew it over his ear, giving himself time to figure out a reply. “I think there are bigger things to worry about right now than the death of one cat many moons ago.”

  Mousefur snorted, then lapsed into silence. Jayfeather was getting ready to leave when she spoke again. “Darkness is coming, isn’t it?”

  Jayfeather felt every hair on his pelt begin to rise. “What do you know?” he asked hoarsely. Could Mousefur be the fourth cat in the prophecy? An elder?

  “I don’t know anything that could help us,” Mousefur admitted. Her voice was bleak. “But my dreams have been troubled for a long time.” She let out a weary sigh. “I never thought that I would live to see the end of the Clans.”

  Jayfeather leaned close to her. “This will not be the end of the Clans,” he meowed. “As long as I have breath in my body, the Clans will be safe.”

  He waited beside Mousefur until the old cat drifted into sleep, muttering and twitching. She’s so old, he thought. Does she really know what she is saying? As he rose and headed for his own den, Jayfeather’s fur prickled at the truth of what Mousefur had said about keeping quiet about Hollyleaf and Ashfur.

  But the Clan must move forward, he told himself. There’s no time to waste looking back at what can’t be changed.

  Before he reached his den, Jayfeather heard the sounds of cats brushing through the thorn barrier, and he heard Purdy’s voice.

  “There was this fox, see, took to wanderin’ through my Upwalker’s garden. Well, I wasn’t havin’ any of that, so what do you think I did?”

  “I have no idea, Purdy,” Hollyleaf replied, sounding distracted. “Hey, watch out for that bramble!”

  “I can see it,” Purdy muttered. “I’m not a young ’un like you, but I’ve got eyes. Anyway,” he went on, “I hid under this holly bush, see, right next to my Upwalker’s fence, an’—”

  He broke off as Jayfeather approached. “Hollyleaf, I need to talk to you.”

  “We were talkin’,” Purdy retorted with dignity, before Hollyleaf could reply. “Don’t they raise young cats with manners anymore?” He gave a disgusted sniff. “I’ll be in my den when you’ve finished, Hollyleaf, an’ I’ll tell you the rest of the story.”

  Jayfeather heard him stalking away. “Come over here,” he meowed to Hollyleaf. With his sister following him, he padded over to the bottom of the cliff and sat in a sheltered spot underneath an elder bush.

  “You know, don’t you?” Hollyleaf guessed as she settled down beside him. “What happened this morning?”

  “Mousefur told me,” Jayfeather replied. He hesitated for a moment and then went on, “Hollyleaf, do you understand what Brambleclaw has done for you?”

  Jayfeather knew what it must have cost the Clan deputy to speak out as he had. It was hard for him to appreciate what it meant, how much Brambleclaw—and Squirrelflight, too, he admitted to himself—had loved him and his littermates. And maybe they love us still. He felt as uncomfortable as if ants were making their nest in his pelt.

  “They all know now,” Hollyleaf murmured, her voice stricken. “They know I killed a cat.”

  Jayfeather reached out and rested his paw on her shoulder. “It was an accident, remember.”

  He could feel Hollyleaf’s gaze on him, scorching him like a flame. “But it wasn’t,” she whispered.

  Jayfeather heard Mousefur’s words echoing in his ears, telling him how much harm had been done as a result of that single moment. He shook his head as if he could get rid of her voice like a buzzing insect.

  “Enough,” he insisted. “We have to live with what has happened. I’m glad you came back. I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” Hollyleaf murmured. Jayfeather felt the light touch of her nose on his ear, only for a moment. “I just hope I’ve done the right thing by coming back. Perhaps it would have been better if you’d all forgotten about me.”

  “We would never have done that,” Jayfeather told her, leaning closer to her and drinking in her scent. “Never.”

  In the silence that followed, Jayfeather could hear the breeze rustling in the trees overhead, and farther away the sound of cats approaching the camp. As they drew closer, he heard the excited voices of the apprentices.

  “I caught two mice!”

  “And I caught a squirrel! It’s huge!”

  The hunting patrol emerged from the thorns, Cherrypaw and Molepaw scampering ahead. Lionblaze and Cinderheart followed, with Rosepetal and Foxleap bringing up the rear.

  “Hey, take it easy,” Cinderheart warned the apprentices. “You’ll make every cat think that badgers are invading.” Her tone was gently
teasing. “But you’ve hunted very well today,” she went on. “Molepaw, why don’t you take your mice to Mousefur and Purdy? They’re so nice and plump I’m sure they’ll tempt their appetites.”

  Jayfeather heard Molepaw scurrying off, while Cherrypaw dragged her squirrel to the fresh-kill pile.

  Cinderheart is a natural mentor, he thought, even though these aren’t her apprentices. And she couldn’t be a more loyal warrior to ThunderClan. StarClan made the right decision when they let her live a second life.

  Grief sharp as thorns suddenly pierced Jayfeather, as if he had stumbled into a bramble thicket. Tensing, he realized that it came from Lionblaze.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Lionblaze snapped. “All you ever think about is this dumb prophecy.”

  Jayfeather bit back a sharp reply as he realized that his brother’s grief was tangled with longing for Cinderheart. “Try me,” he suggested.

  For a few heartbeats Lionblaze was silent. “I know Cinderheart wants to be with me,” he meowed grudgingly at last. “But she thinks she can’t, because I have a destiny. She thinks I’m too important!” He spat out the last word and stalked away before Jayfeather could reply.

  Anger surged up inside Jayfeather, and for a moment he wanted to yowl his pain to the sky. Half Moon . . . No cat in ThunderClan knew of his love for the long-ago cat, lost to him now through the passing of so many seasons. He would have given anything to have her beside him again. Remembering her now helped him to understand his brother’s hurt and frustration.

  “She thinks he’s the only cat who’s important?” he muttered to himself. “Maybe it’s time some cat showed her just how wrong she is.”

  That night Jayfeather curled up in his nest and took a deep breath before letting himself sink into sleep. He knew exactly where he wanted to go.

  Somehow we have to settle this, once and for all. Not for Lionblaze, or even the Clan, but for Cinderheart. I have to show her what a great cat she is.