SkyClan's Destiny

by Erin Hunter

  The young medicine cat padded forward, his eyes downcast. “I feel nothing but sadness and guilt coming from our ancestors,” he confessed. “Guilt for taking us away from the forest, and sadness because SkyClan is coming to an end.”

  “What?” Oakstep’s eyes stretched wide with horror. “Has even StarClan given up on us? I remember when Cloudstar led us away from the forest,” he went on when no cat answered him. “He said we should never look to the spirits of our warrior ancestors again, and he was right. We should never have listened to StarClan. They have done nothing for us!”

  By now the sunlight had almost gone, and warriors of StarClan were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. But none of the cats in the gorge looked up at their frosty glitter. Instead, they huddled together at the bottom of the cliff, where the rocks retained a little warmth from the sun, and there was shelter from the chilly wind.

  “Then this is the end,” a black-and-white tom meowed. “Rowanfur, will you show me where to get Twoleg food?”

  “Of course,” the ginger tom replied. “Any cats who want to can come with me and Frostclaw.”

  A gray she-cat got up and padded to his side. “I’ll come, too. There’ll be food and warmth with the Twolegs. The warrior code can’t feed or shelter us. It’s just words.”

  “I never thought I’d hear a SkyClan warrior say that!” Honeyleaf hissed, horrified. “The warrior code lives in all of us, when we hunt and fight and give thanks for the life of a Clan cat.”

  The gray she-cat whipped around to face her. “I do not give thanks for this life! It is over!”

  Honeyleaf slid out her claws, and for a heartbeat it seemed as if the two she-cats would turn on each other, screeching and clawing. Then the Clan deputy turned her back.

  “Well, I won’t turn into a mewling kittypet,” she insisted, her bristling fur showing how furious she was. “If we can’t stay here, I’m going farther up the gorge, away from the rats. There might be better hunting there.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Swallowflight meowed. “We’ll survive better if we hunt together.”

  All three elders sat silent as the warriors discussed where they would go. At last Mousefang raised her head to meet Spiderstar’s sorrowful gaze. “I want to stay here,” she stated flatly. “I’m too old to find a new place. This is where I belong.”

  “Me too,” murmured Nightfur, giving the old she-cat’s ear a lick. “The rats don’t come here. There’s water, and we can still find the odd mouse or beetle.”

  “It’s not like we have much time left,” Oakstep added.

  Once again Spiderstar dipped his head. “I will stay with you,” he meowed. “I will see that each of you has an honorable ending, to give thanks for your loyalty.”

  Nightfur nodded, his eyes full of grief and loss too deep for words.

  “I’ll stay, too,” Brackenheart added. “This is where I can make the best use of my medicine cat skills … before I am no longer a medicine cat.”

  He rose to his paws, glancing around at the remnants of his Clan, gathering their attention as a queen gathers her kits into the shelter of her tail. Then he looked up at the sky, staring unblinkingly at the cold light of his warrior ancestors.

  “May StarClan light your path, Fallensnow, and yours, Sunpelt, as you walk the skies to join them,” he meowed. “May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.”

  The cats around him murmured their agreement with the words spoken for each fallen warrior.

  Spiderstar heaved a deep sigh. “May StarClan light a path for all of us. We still live on, but our Clan has died.”

  No cat responded. Their eyes shone in the starlight, full of fear and despair, as they stared at the cat who had been their Clan leader. Spiderstar did not meet their gaze, as if he was too overwhelmed by shame at the destruction of the Clan he had led for so many seasons.

  Brackenheart remained silent for a heartbeat, then gave his pelt a swift shake, as if he had just pulled himself out of icy water. “Come,” he mewed. “It’s time I looked at your injuries.”

  With a wave of his tail, the young brown tabby led his wounded Clanmates to his den, where he stopped the worst of their bleeding with cobwebs, and made poultices of marigold against infection. For Honeyleaf and the other cats who were leaving to explore farther up the gorge, he made up bundles of traveling herbs.

  “May StarClan walk with you,” he meowed as they left.

  Honeyleaf bounded away without replying. Brackenheart followed her out of the den, and sat beside Spiderstar to watch his Clan separate for the last time. The moon had drifted from behind a patch of cloud, shedding a frosty light over the rocks and the river. The dark outlines of the departing cats slipped up the trail to the top of the gorge, and were lost to sight. Only Spiderstar, Brackenheart, and the three elders were left.

  “Let’s move our nests into the elders’ den,” Brackenheart suggested quietly to Spiderstar. “That way we can take care of them until they don’t need us anymore.”

  Spiderstar nodded, looking around the empty gorge. It was still littered with the lives of so many cats, with memories like shadows clinging to each rock and crevice.

  “I wonder…” He sighed. “Will a Clan ever live here again?”

  “I think they will. One day, cats will return here and find a way to succeed where we have failed.” A deeper echo sounded in Brackenheart’s voice, a strength that came from pride and courage and unflinching loyalty to the warrior code. “This is the leaf-bare of our Clan. Greenleaf will come, but it will bring even greater storms than these. SkyClan will need deeper roots if it is to survive.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Floodwater thundered down the gorge, chasing a wall of uprooted trees and bushes as if they were the slenderest twigs. Leafstar stood at the entrance to her den and watched in horror as the current foamed and swirled among the rocks, mounting higher and higher. Rain lashed the surface from bulging black clouds overhead.

  Water gurgled into Echosong’s den; though the SkyClan leader strained her eyes through the stormy darkness, she couldn’t see what had happened to the medicine cat. A cat’s shriek cut through the tumult of the water and Leafstar spotted the Clan’s two elders struggling frantically as they were swept out of their den. The two old cats flailed on the surface for a heartbeat and then vanished.

  Cherrytail and Patchfoot, heading down the trail with fresh-kill in their jaws, halted in astonishment when they saw the flood. They spun around and fled up the cliff, but the water surged after them and carried them yowling along the gorge. Leafstar lost sight of them as a huge tree, its roots high in the air like claws, rolled between her and the drowning warriors.

  Great StarClan, help us! Leafstar prayed. Save my Clan!

  Already the floodwater was lapping at the entrance to the nursery. A kit poked its nose out and vanished back inside with a frightened wail. Leafstar bunched her muscles, ready to leap across the rocks and help, but before she could move, a wave higher than the rest licked around her and caught her up, tossing her into the river alongside the splintered trees.

  Leafstar fought and writhed against the smothering water, gasping for breath. She coughed as something brittle jabbed inside her open mouth. She opened her eyes and spat out a frond of dried bracken. Her nest was scattered around her den and there were deep claw marks in the floor where she had struggled with the invisible wave. Flicking off a shred of moss that was clinging to one ear, she sat up, panting.

  Thank StarClan, it was only a dream!

  The SkyClan leader stayed where she was until her heartbeat slowed and she had stopped trembling. The flood had been so real, washing away her Clanmates in front of her eyes…

  Sunlight was slanting through the entrance to her den; with a long sigh of relief, Leafstar tottered to her paws and padded onto the ledge outside. Down below, the river wound peacefully between the steep cliffs that enclosed the gorge. As sunhigh approached, light gleamed on the surface of the water and soaked into Leaf
star’s brown-and-cream fur; she relaxed her shoulders, enjoying the warmth and the sensation of the gentle breeze that ruffled her pelt.

  “It was only a dream,” she repeated to herself, pricking her ears at the twittering of birds in the trees at the top of the gorge. “Newleaf is here, and SkyClan has survived.”

  A warm glow of satisfaction flooded through her as she recalled that only a few short moons ago she had been nothing more than Leaf. She had been a loner, responsible for no cat but herself. Then Firestar had appeared: a leader of a Clan from a distant forest, with an amazing story of a lost Clan who had once lived here in the gorge. Firestar had gathered loners and kittypets to revive SkyClan; most astonishing of all, Leaf had been chosen to lead them.

  “I’ll never forget the night when the spirits of my ancestors gave me nine lives and made me Leafstar,” she murmured. “My whole world changed. I wonder if you still think about us, Firestar,” she added. “I hope you know that I’ve kept the promises I made to you and my Clanmates.”

  Shrill meows from below brought the she-cat back to the present. The Clan was beginning to gather beside the Rockpile, where the underground river flowed into the sunlight for the first time. Shrewtooth, Sparrowpelt, and Cherrytail were crouched down, eating, not far from the fresh-kill pile. Shrewtooth gulped his mouse down quickly, casting suspicious glances at the two younger warriors. Leafstar remembered how a border patrol had caught the black tom spying on the Clan two moons ago, terrified and half-starving. They had persuaded him to move into the warriors’ den, but he was still finding it hard to fit into Clan life.

  I’ll have to do something to make him understand that he is among friends now, Leafstar decided. He’s more nervous than a cornered mouse.

  The two Clan elders, Lichenfur and Tangle, were sharing tongues on a flat rock warmed by the sun. They looked content; Tangle was a bad-tempered old rogue who stopped in the gorge now and again to eat before going back to his den in the forest, but he seemed to get on fine with Lichenfur, and Leafstar hoped she would convince him to stay permanently in the camp.

  Lichenfur had lived alone in the woods farther up the gorge, aware of the new Clan but staying clear of them. She had almost died when she had been caught in a fox trap, until a patrol had found her and brought her back to camp for healing. After that she had been glad to give up the life of a loner. “She has wisdom to teach the Clan,” Leafstar mewed softly from the ledge. “Every Clan needs its elders.”

  The loud squeals she could hear were coming from Bouncepaw, Tinypaw, and Rockpaw, who were chasing one another in a tight circle, their fur bristling with excitement. As Leafstar watched, their mother, Clovertail, padded up to them, her whiskers twitching anxiously. Leafstar couldn’t hear what she said, but the apprentices skidded to a halt; Clovertail beckoned Tinypaw with a flick of her tail, and started to give her face a thorough wash. Leafstar purred with amusement as the young white she-cat wriggled under the swipes of her mother’s rough tongue, while Clovertail’s eyes shone with pride.

  Pebbles pattering down beside her startled Leafstar. Looking up, she saw Patchfoot heading down the rocky trail with a squirrel clamped firmly in his jaws. Waspwhisker followed him, with his apprentice, Mintpaw, a paw step behind; they both carried mice. Leafstar gave a little nod of approval as the hunting patrol passed her. Prey was becoming more plentiful with the warmer weather, and the fresh-kill pile was swelling. She pictured Waspwhisker when he had first joined the Clan during the first snowfall of leaf-bare: a lost kittypet wailing with cold and hunger as he blundered along the gorge. Now the gray-and-white tom was one of the most skillful hunters in the Clan, with an apprentice of his own. He even had kits, with another former stray named Fallowfern.

  SkyClan is growing.

  As their father padded past, Waspwhisker’s four kits bounced out of the nursery and scampered behind him, squeaking. Their mother, Fallowfern, emerged more slowly and edged her way down the trail after them; she still wasn’t completely comfortable with the sheer cliff face and pointed rocks that surrounded SkyClan’s camp.

  “Be careful!” she called. “Don’t fall!”

  The kits had already reached the bottom of the gorge, getting under their father’s paws, cuffing one another over the head and rolling over perilously near to the pool. Waspwhisker gently nudged the pale brown tom, Nettlekit, away from the edge.

  But as soon as their father turned away to drop his prey on the fresh-kill pile, Nettlekit’s sister, Plumkit, jumped on him. Nettlekit swiped at her, as if he was trying to copy a battle move he’d seen when the apprentices were training. Plumkit rolled over; Nettlekit staggered, lost his balance, and toppled into the river.

  Fallowfern let out a wail. “Nettlekit!”

  Stifling a gasp, Leafstar sprang to her paws, but she was too far away to do anything. Fallowfern leaped swiftly from boulder to boulder, but Waspwhisker was faster still, plunging into the pool after his kit. Leafstar lost sight of them for a few heartbeats. She watched the other Clan cats huddled at the water’s edge—all except for Shrewtooth, who paced up and down the bank, his tail lashing in agitation. Leafstar purred with relief when she saw Waspwhisker hauling himself out of the river with Nettlekit clamped firmly in his jaws. The tiny tom’s paws flailed until his father set him down on the rock. Then he shook himself, spattering every cat with shining drops of water. Fallowfern pounced on him and started to lick his pelt, but Nettlekit struggled away from her and hurled himself straight at Plumkit.

  “I’ll teach you to push me in the river!” he squealed.

  “I did not push you! You fell in, so there!” Plumkit yowled back. She crouched down and leaped forward to meet her littermate in midair. The two kits tussled together in a knot of fur while their parents, looking frustrated, tried to separate them.

  Leafstar glanced over her shoulder at the sound of paw steps approaching from farther down the gorge and saw Echosong with a bundle of herbs in her mouth. The young medicine cat’s soft fur shone in the sunlight, reminding Leafstar that not long ago she had been a kittypet. But now she moved confidently over the stony ground, her pads hardened by her time in the gorge, and she had the lean, muscular strength of a Clan cat.

  Echosong looked up at her Clan leader. “Greetings, Leafstar!” she called, her voice blurred by the herbs.

  “Greetings!” Leafstar meowed back to her. “We’ll start the warrior ceremony soon.”

  Echosong acknowledged her words with a wave of her tail, and vanished into her den near the bottom of the cliff to add the herbs to her store.

  “Are you ready?”

  Leafstar started as a voice spoke at her shoulder, and spun around to see her deputy, Sharpclaw, standing behind her. She hadn’t noticed his silent approach. “Oh, it’s you,” she meowed. “You frightened my fur off, creeping up on me like that!”

  The dark ginger tom narrowed his eyes in amusement. “Nothing frightens your fur off, Leafstar.” With a glance at the sky, he added, “It’s sunhigh. When are you going to start the ceremony?”

  “I’m waiting for the others,” Leafstar explained.

  Sharpclaw’s amusement vanished and he flicked his tail. “You should carry on without them,” he meowed impatiently.

  Leafstar twitched one ear in surprise, and saw a defensive look come into her deputy’s eyes.

  “We never know when they’re going to turn up,” he persisted. “And there are three young cats down there ready to burst with excitement.”

  Glancing at the Rockpile again, Leafstar saw that he was right. Bouncepaw and Rockpaw were circling each other as if they were about to start battle training, while Tinypaw bounced up and down on the spot, too anxious to sit still. Their shrill mews floated up to Leafstar.

  “Very well.” Leafstar dipped her head. “We’ll start now.”

  With one more glance at the top of the gorge, she led the way down the trail to the Rockpile. As she and Sharpclaw approached, their Clanmates parted to let them through. Leafstar bunched her muscles and sprang
to the top of the rocks, while Sharpclaw took his place at the base, not far from the fresh-kill pile. From the Rockpile, Leafstar looked down at her deputy’s broad shoulders, and felt a stab of gratitude for his courage and loyalty.

  He’s a good deputy. Firestar advised me well.

  Leafstar raised her head and let her yowl echo throughout the gorge. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Rockpile for a Clan meeting!”

  Sagepaw shot out of the apprentices’ den and raced down the trail to join his littermate, Mintpaw, at the foot of the Rockpile. They settled down, tails twitching, not far from Sharpclaw and Waspwhisker. Sagepaw’s mentor, Petalnose, emerged from the warriors’ den and padded down to sit beside her apprentice. Patchfoot sat beside Clovertail, who was heavy with his kits; the she-cat leaned over and touched his ear with her nose, but her attention stayed fixed on the three apprentices.

  Leafstar suppressed a sigh when she saw how Shrewtooth edged away as the other warriors approached. He peered around nervously as if he thought the gorge was full of enemies and then skittered down to the very edge of the stream, where he sat, darting anxious glances around him.

  He’s lived in the warriors’ den for three moons, Leafstar thought, her claws kneading the rock in exasperation. Doesn’t he know by now that no cat will bite his tail off?

  She wondered—not for the first time—what had happened in Shrewtooth’s past to make him so troubled, but she didn’t have time to worry about him right then. The black tom would confide in her when he was ready, and meanwhile she had a warrior ceremony to conduct. Glancing around, Leafstar saw that almost all the Clan had assembled. She wondered briefly what was keeping Echosong, but in the same heartbeat the young medicine cat appeared from her den, the sweet scent of herbs drifting up from her pelt. She sat down beside Petalnose and looked expectantly up at the Rockpile.

  “Cats of SkyClan,” Leafstar began, “today we gather for one of the most important ceremonies in the life of a Clan: the naming of new warriors. Bouncepaw, Tinypaw, Rockpaw,” she added with a wave of her tail, “come and stand here beneath the Rockpile.”