by Erin Hunter
As they left the trees and headed down the grassy slope, the wind whipped at Jaypaw’s ears and whiskers. He lashed his tail, excited by the stormy weather and the thought of touching the stick once more. He could smell the lake now and pictured it—a vast Moonpool, ruffled and reflecting a shattered moon.
The scents of RiverClan, WindClan, and ShadowClan clashed and mingled on the breeze. Was there really going to be a battle?
“Do you think WindClan is planning to invade us?” he mewed.
Lionpaw pressed against him, steering him around a rabbit hole. “It wouldn’t make sense.” Jaypaw thought he heard hope in his brother’s mew. “It’s RiverClan they should be worried about, not us.”
“But what about the squirrel-hunting?”
“Why shouldn’t they hunt squirrels? The woods belong to them on that side of the gully.” Lionpaw sounded more like a warrior than an apprentice; as though he knew something Jaypaw didn’t.
As their paws crunched on the pebbles around the edge of the lake, Lionpaw hesitated. “Why are we here?”
“I left something here,” Jaypaw explained. “I need to drag it into the trees. I want to keep it safe from the lake.”
“What?”
“A stick.”
“A stick?”
“Yes!” Jaypaw sniffed the air, hoping to detect its scent. “It has markings on it.” His tail pricked with anxiety as he smelled nothing but windblown water. “I left it here.”
“What does it look like?”
“No bark,” Jaypaw mewed. “Just smooth wood. With lines scratched into it.”
“Okay,” Lionpaw mewed. “You check where you left it. I’ll search the top of the shore in case the wind’s carried it up there.”
Jaypaw hurried to the place where he had abandoned the
stick. His heart began to pound. He was certain it was gone, and not just because he couldn’t scent it. There was a dark emptiness in his chest that told him the stick was no longer here.
He was right.
The pebbles were bare.
Fighting the fear that jabbed his belly, Jaypaw zigzagged over the shore, sniffing at the pebbles, trying to trace where the stick had gone. Why had he let the storm chase him away?
He should have made sure the stick was safe before he ran home like a fox-hearted coward!
“Have you found it?” Lionpaw’s mew was muffled by the wind.
“No!” Jaypaw felt panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t have lost it.
“Is this it?” Lionpaw called suddenly.
Jaypaw charged toward his brother. He tripped over a piece of driftwood, bruising his paw, but he ignored the pain and limped desperately toward Lionpaw.
He knew even before he reached it that it was not the stick. “Where are the scratches?” he snapped. “I told you, it has scratches!”
“Okay, okay!” Lionpaw flashed with resentment. “I’m just trying to help.”
“I have to find it.” Jaypaw wandered away, stumbling over the pebbles and debris. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He felt as if he had let someone down, though he had no idea how or who. His paw was throbbing now but he didn’t care. Had
the lake reclaimed the stick?
He headed down the beach until water lapped his paws and paddled into the shallows. He had to find the stick. Cold water rippled against his belly fur. It dragged at his paws as he waded deeper. He remembered falling from the cliff, sinking, floundering beneath the waves. Crowfeather had saved him then, but the fear of the lake had stayed with him. It screamed at him now, warning him to turn back.
Jaypaw!
A voice rang in his head. Something tugged his fur, drawing him farther out. The waves lapped over his spine and he lifted his chin to keep it dry.
This way!
With each paw step he had to reach down farther to feel the pebbles. But he had to find the branch.
Suddenly, his paw knocked something beneath the water.
That’s it!
Taking a great gulp of air, he ducked his head beneath the waves and grabbed the end of the branch in his teeth.
Tugging desperately, he began to drag it up the beach. He let go and took another gulp of air before diving again to grab the branch. He dug his paws into the pebbles, scrabbling to get a grip. The stick was so heavy! He pulled and pulled, his lungs bursting as he tried to drag it out of the water.
Suddenly, it moved more easily. Almost weightless, the stick began to float toward the shore; Jaypaw only needed to guide it with his teeth. Relief surged in his paws as his head finally broke the surface. He gasped and coughed, still grip
ping the stick in his teeth, water dripping from his whiskers.
He had reached the shallows.
“What in StarClan were you doing?” The branch slapped down in the water as Lionpaw let go of the other end. “I saw you disappear under the water and I thought you were trying to drown yourself. Then I realized you were dragging this! I don’t know how you thought you were going to get it out on your own.”
The water lapped around the stick. Jaypaw ran his paw over it, searching out the scratches. He wished the stick was not so big, that he could take it back to camp with him.
“Look,” he breathed, running his paw over the marks.
“You half drown yourself in the middle of the night for a stick with claw marks on it!” Water sprayed from Lionpaw as he shook himself. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m not,” Jaypaw snapped hotly. “It’s important.”
Thank you, Jaypaw. We’ll be remembered as long as you guard us.
“Come on,” he mewed. “Let’s get this tucked under a root and get back to camp.”
Chapter 11
“For StarClan’s sake!” Ashfur bounded from the ferns and glared angrily at Lionpaw. “How did you miss it?”
The wagtail, which had whisked away from Lionpaw’s outstretched paws only moments earlier, perched on a branch above the training hollow and called an alarm before fluttering away into the trees.
Lionpaw hung his head. He should have caught it, but his paws felt like stones. “Sorry.” The midnight trek to the beach with Jaypaw had left him exhausted. He quivered with irritation. He had left Heatherpaw early last night so he could catch up on his sleep. Why had Jaypaw dragged him out to the lake instead of letting him rest?
“You’re lumbering around like a badger today,” Ashfur scolded.
Spiderleg and Mousepaw padded out of the ferns with Honeypaw and Sandstorm.
“More like a hibernating hedgehog!” Mousepaw teased.
Lionpaw glared at his denmate.
Honeypaw flicked her tail at Mousepaw. “It wasn’t long ago you missed a squirrel,” she reminded him.
Lionpaw’s ears grew hot. He didn’t need Honeypaw to defend him.
“Honeypaw’s right.” Spiderleg nudged Mousepaw’s shoulder with his muzzle. “And your climbing could use some practice.”
Mousepaw flattened his ears. “Well, let’s go practice, then!”
“You’d better not try the Sky Oak!” Honeypaw called out as the two cats headed for the trees. Mousepaw’s tail quivered with annoyance as it disappeared into the undergrowth.
Sandstorm turned to her apprentice. “Come on, Honeypaw, we’ll see if there are any mice around the old beech.”
“Can we come too?” Ashfur looked pointedly at Lionpaw.
“I don’t think we’ll find many birds around here now.”
“Of course.” Sandstorm bounded up the slope out of the hollow and then headed into the trees. Ashfur hurried to catch her up.
“Don’t worry,” Honeypaw whispered, falling in beside Lionpaw. “I missed a sparrow yesterday.”
Lionpaw snorted and hurried ahead of her, bristling.
The ground beneath the beech was littered with empty husks. This was a great place for hunting mice attracted by the ready supply of beechnuts. Lionpaw pushed ahead of Honeypaw into the ferns that ringed the open ground beneath the tree. Ashfur and Sandstorm were waiting for
them, sat beneath the arching fronds.
“Let’s hope we manage to catch something here,” Ashfur meowed. “We don’t want the Clan to go hungry.”
“They won’t!” Lionpaw snapped. Why couldn’t Ashfur
give him advice instead of pointing out his mistakes?
“Look!” Honeypaw jerked her head toward the clearing. A mouse was sitting between the snaking roots of the beech, a nut between its forepaws. It was busy nibbling at the shell.
“That’ll be easy to catch.” She blinked encouragingly at Lionpaw. “It doesn’t even know we’re here.”
“Why don’t you catch it, then?” he hissed.
Honeypaw’s eyes clouded. “I thought you might want the chance.”
“I don’t need help!” Lionpaw snapped. Did she think he was a helpless kit?
Honeypaw dropped her gaze and he felt guilty. She had only been trying to help. He turned and peered out of the undergrowth. He’d catch the mouse to show her he was sorry.
But it had gone.
Something else was stirring the leaves only a few tail-lengths away. Lionpaw dropped into a hunting crouch.
Willing away the tiredness that made his limbs feel as heavy as wet wood, he began to creep forward. The leaves moved again and a tiny nose peeked out. Tensing every muscle, Lionpaw prepared to leap.
“Keep your tail down!” Ashfur hissed.
Lionpaw pressed his haunches down harder to the ground.
Then he darted forward.
He wasn’t fast enough. The vole scuttled beneath a root.
Lionpaw glanced at Ashfur, expecting some comment, a word of advice or even disappointment, but his mentor turned away without saying anything.
* * *
Brambleclaw looked up as Lionpaw followed Ashfur into camp. The ThunderClan deputy’s eyes narrowed as Ashfur dropped two mice and a sparrow onto the fresh-kill pile.
Lionpaw had nothing to offer.
“Prey still running?” Brambleclaw padded over to them.
“There’s certainly plenty around,” Ashfur commented.
Lionpaw waited for Ashfur to tell Brambleclaw how useless he had been today. He blinked in surprise when Ashfur meowed, “Lionpaw’s hunting is coming along fine. He just needs to work on his crouch.”
Why didn’t he tell Brambleclaw the truth? Had Ashfur given up on him? Or was he being soft on him because his father was deputy?
Brambleclaw cuffed Lionpaw softly around the ear. “I thought you’d mastered the hunting crouch before you left the nursery.”
Didn’t anybody care? Irritation pricked his paws. He had been floundering for days, but nobody had mentioned it. Why weren’t they taking his training seriously? With all the talk of battle, surely it was more important than ever that he was doing well. He glanced at Brambleclaw, but the ThunderClan deputy was already padding away with a mouse in his jaws.
“You might as well have something to eat too,” Ashfur meowed. “It’s been a long morning.”
“What about training?”
“Rest first.” Ashfur began to head across the clearing.
“We’ll do some battle training later.”
It looked as if Ashfur really had given up on him. Maybe his mentor thought training was a waste of time. Lionpaw felt a flash of indignation, but it died as he stared wearily at the fresh-kill pile. He was too tired to eat. All he wanted was to curl up and sleep. He headed for the apprentice den, ducking beneath the low branch of the bramble bush. With a sigh of relief, he coiled down into his nest and closed his eyes.
“Lionpaw!” Berrypaw’s voice woke him. “Time for battle training!”
Lionpaw struggled awake like a drowning cat fighting its way to the surface. Berrypaw was standing over him, shaking his shoulder with a paw.
“Okay, okay!” Lionpaw mewed. “Put your claws away! I’m awake.” He shook Berrypaw away and heaved himself to his paws. A fog filled his brain, and his body felt as though it was weighted down with boulders. His nap had only made him feel more tired.
“Ashfur and Brambleclaw want us to do some battle training together.”
Lionpaw sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Berrypaw leaned forward. “You normally can’t wait to try and beat me.” His whiskers twitched.
“Are you scared?”
“No!” Of course he wasn’t scared. I just want to sleep!
He stumbled out of the den after Berrypaw and blinked in the afternoon sun. Ashfur and Brambleclaw were already waiting by the camp entrance. They nodded at Lionpaw
and headed out of camp.
Slow down! Lionpaw felt hardly awake as he hurried after Berrypaw and the two warriors. He stumbled through the forest in a daze of tiredness, tripping over brambles and stifling yawn after yawn. He half slid down the slope into the mossy training hollow where Berrypaw was waiting with Ashfur and Brambleclaw. Stretching his claws, Lionpaw padded to join them. He shook himself, hoping to jerk himself awake, but a numbing fog still clouded his mind.
“Let’s get started,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Berrypaw, I want you to pretend you’re defending your territory.” He flicked his tail. “Lionpaw, attack him.”
Berrypaw dropped into a crouch, hackles bristling and tail lashing. His eyes were narrowed to slits and his chin glided back and forth over the ground like a snake’s.
“Come on, Lion kit!” he teased.
Anger flashed in Lionpaw’s pelt. Without thinking he rushed at Berrypaw, his sleepy paws stumbling over the ground. He hurled himself at his denmate, forelegs splayed.
Berrypaw reared up and caught him under the chin, flinging him backward. Before Lionpaw could roll out of the way, Berrypaw sprang on top of him. Lionpaw struggled but the other apprentice’s weight pinned him to the ground.
Berrypaw looked up triumphantly at Brambleclaw. “That was easy!”
As his attention slipped, Lionpaw darted out from underneath him. He butted Berrypaw’s creamy flank with his head, but Berrypaw hardly flinched. Instead, he rounded on
Lionpaw and swiped at him with a forepaw. Lionpaw only just managed to duck in time. What now? His mind was sluggish with sleep. Working on instinct, he dived beneath Berrypaw’s belly and tried to leap up and unbalance him. But he hadn’t bargained for Berrypaw’s greater weight. Berrypaw merely dropped on top of him and squashed him to the ground.
Lionpaw, defeated, went limp. Every move he had made had been badly thought out. Berrypaw stepped off Lionpaw and sat down beside Brambleclaw, curling his tail over his paws.
Ashfur stared down at his apprentice. “Was that the best you could do?”
Lionpaw shot to his paws, his ears burning. He was wide awake now, his body tingling with anger. “It’s not my fault you taught me all the wrong moves!”
Shock flashed in Brambleclaw’s eyes, but Ashfur’s gaze remained calm. “Do you think anyone would believe I taught you that clumsy display?”
“Well, if you had it would be the first thing you’ve taught me today!”
That managed to ruffle Ashfur’s pelt. The gray warrior’s eyes blazed.
Brambleclaw stepped forward. “A warrior never blames his Clanmates for his own mistakes, Lionpaw.” He turned to Ashfur. “I think you need to speak with your apprentice.
Come on, Berrypaw. Let’s carry on training over there.”
The fur along Ashfur’s spine quivered as he watched Brambleclaw pad to the other side of the clearing. Lionpaw
suddenly felt cold as his anger slid away. He had gone too far.
“I’m sorry,” he mewed.
Ashfur swung his head around and glared at Lionpaw. “I have tried to make you the best apprentice in your den,” he growled, “but lately it’s been like training a slug. You only seem to hear half of what I tell you and the things you do hear, you forget. You used to have an instinct for hunting and fighting, but it’s gone and I don’t know where.”
Lionpaw’s whiskers trembled. He couldn’t deny that he had been distracted lately, but he thought no one had notice
d.
“I promise I’ll try harder.”
“You’ll have to if you don’t want to get left behind in the apprentice den and watch Foxkit and Icekit become warriors before you!”
“I will!” Fear squirmed in Lionpaw’s belly, not of Ashfur, but of failure. Everything had come so easily before. The idea that he might struggle to keep up filled him with dread.
“Good.” Ashfur nodded curtly. “Let’s start again.”
Lionpaw squared his shoulders. “Okay.”
“We’ll try the badger defense.”
Lionpaw blinked. “B-but that’s one of the hardest.”
“I know.” Ashfur crouched. “Watch carefully.” He reared up and leaped forward, high enough to clear a badger’s back.
He landed without dropping onto his forepaws and spun around so fast that Lionpaw marveled at how he kept his balance. Then he ducked down, back onto four paws, and twisted to the side, snapping his jaws as though clamping them into a badger’s hind leg.
“Now you do it,” he ordered. “And don’t forget, a badger is twice as big as a cat, so make the leap as high as you can. You don’t want to end up on its back. If it rolled over, it could crush you.”
Heart pounding, Lionpaw reared up. He tried to leap forward, but lost his balance and fell to one side, slamming his forepaws onto the ground.
“Again!” Ashfur demanded.
Lionpaw pushed himself up and tried to leap forward once more. This time he managed to spring a little way, but he top-pled over and fell down onto four paws again.
“Put more power into your jump,” Ashfur meowed. “Most of your strength is in your hind legs—use it!”
“But I can’t get my balance,” Lionpaw protested.
“Then keep trying until you can!”
“Ashfur!” Brambleclaw called from the other side of the clearing. “I want to try out a double attack on Berrypaw. Can you come and help?”
Berrypaw was ready to take on two warriors? Lionpaw’s pads tingled with jealousy. They’ll never let me try that!
Ashfur narrowed his eyes. “Keep practicing,” he commanded and bounded away to join the ThunderClan deputy.
Lionpaw felt despair drag at his paws. Why had Ashfur given him something so impossible to practice? Was he trying to make him look even more useless? Halfheartedly, he reared onto his hind legs. He staggered even before he tried to jump, the forest swaying in front of him. Frustrated, he dropped onto four paws. I’ll never get this!
