Shattered Sky

by Erin Hunter

  She has to go that way, he thought anxiously. I hope she remembers how to find the tunnel.

  And even if Twigpaw managed to cross the Thunderpath safely, there were more hazards on the other side. A young apprentice, all on her own, just wasn’t safe out there.

  I know she would do anything to find her kin, but does she really know how terrifying a journey like that can be for a cat?

  Alderheart wanted to claw off his own fur when he remembered how distressed Twigpaw had been when they’d discussed SkyClan the night before.

  “I could have been more reassuring,” he murmured aloud. “And now she’s gone.”

  I’ve already lost one friend today, he thought, his heart heavy. Am I going to lose another?

  CHAPTER 8

  The sun had only just begun to slide down the sky, but already Twigpaw’s injured leg was aching. She couldn’t remember ever having been so tired and thirsty before.

  Sneaking out of camp through the dirtplace tunnel had felt strange, and at every moment she had expected to be called back by Brightheart, who was on watch. Her feelings of guilt had increased with every stealthy paw step, because she knew that Alderheart and Ivypool would be very worried when they discovered she was missing.

  But I might have kin, she had told herself, summoning up the determination to keep going. Actual blood kin, and I haven’t even met them yet. And if Alderheart and Ivypool cared so much about me, they would have made more of an effort to help me, wouldn’t they?

  Now Twigpaw picked up her pace, a twinge of pain throbbing through her leg at every paw step. She had long ago crossed the top of the ridge beyond the horseplace, leaving the lake far behind. All the sights and scents were different here, and Twigpaw’s fur began to bristle at every unexplained sound in the undergrowth. She desperately tried to remember the route she had taken when Ivypool and Alderheart had gone with her to look for her mother.

  I think I know the way to the tunnel under the Thunderpath. But after that . . . ? All I know is that Alderheart said that SkyClan had taken shelter in a barn, which I guess is a Twoleg dwelling. . . .

  For a moment, Twigpaw feared she was being completely mouse-brained. She paused, wondering if the sensible thing would be to go back. But then her resolve hardened.

  I need my kin more than ever now, because I don’t have Violetpaw anymore. I’m not going to think about my so-called sister ever again! I’ll have something else now. . . . A father, maybe.

  When she was a kit, Twigpaw had thought only of how she had lost her mother. She hadn’t considered what it would be like to have a father.

  That would be wonderful, too, she decided now.

  She set off again, thinking about the relationship Alderheart had with Bramblestar. Sure, they disagree a lot, but a blind rabbit could see how much they love each other. Alderheart always knows that Bramblestar will be there for him, to look after and guide him.

  Just in front of Twigpaw, a stream crossed her path like a shining snake wriggling through the grass. The surface glittered in the sunlight, dazzling Twigpaw’s eyes as she stood on the bank looking down at it.

  “I hate getting my paws wet,” she hissed through her teeth.

  Even the shallow stream that divided ThunderClan from WindClan reminded Twigpaw of the time she had nearly drowned in the lake. When she crossed that stream on the way to a Gathering, she had Clanmates around her who could help her if she got into trouble. Now she was alone.

  Then Twigpaw imagined that her father was standing beside her. Come on, Twigpaw, he might say. You can do it!

  Twigpaw was so focused on him that she could almost hear his voice.

  “Yes, I can!” she replied, and waded out into the water with her head held proudly high.

  She flinched at the sensation of cold water creeping through her pelt, rising higher and higher as she ventured deeper. The pebbles underpaw were slippery, and the current tugged at her, so she was afraid of losing her footing and being swept away. She put each paw down firmly, trying to ignore the racing of her heart.

  The water grew deeper until it lapped and tugged at Twigpaw’s belly fur, then swiftly receded as she climbed up the stream bed on the opposite side. Scrambling out onto the bank, she gave herself a vigorous shake, glittering drops of water spinning away into the air.

  “I did it!” she announced, pride flooding through her as she imagined her father’s nod of approval.

  She could hear the warmth in his voice as he meowed, I knew you could.

  But Twigpaw had barely taken a pace away from the stream when a sudden noise chased the happy thoughts from her head. It sounded like the barking of a fox—only it was much, much louder. The ground shook with the thundering of many paws.

  Twigpaw tensed, and whirled to face the origin of the noise. Her jaws gaped in horror as she saw three enormous creatures bounding across the grass toward her. Their bodies were lean and muscular, with short brindled pelts. Their eyes gleamed with menace, but what terrified Twigpaw most of all were their gaping jaws, with huge tongues lolling from a mouthful of sharp fangs.

  For a heartbeat Twigpaw froze. Then she spun around and began to run, ignoring the pain that clawed through her injured leg.

  Are those dogs? she wondered, pelting along with her belly fur brushing the grass. She remembered how Ivypool had warned her against the savage creatures that sometimes came with Twolegs into the forest. I’ve never seen one before, let alone three. . . .

  And they look very, very hungry!

  As she fled, Twigpaw picked up a dull roar ahead of her, growing louder until it rivaled the barking of the dogs. And she spotted the unnatural shiny flicker of monsters speeding to and fro.

  The Thunderpath . . . I’ll be trapped between it and the dogs!

  Casting a terrified glance over her shoulder, Twigpaw saw that the dogs were gaining on her. She imagined that she could feel their hot breath on her hindquarters. Looking ahead again, she could see nothing that might help her except for a tree growing close to the Thunderpath.

  Then she remembered Ivypool’s words: “Dogs are scary, but they’re pretty dumb, and too heavy to climb trees.”

  I hope these are dogs, Twigpaw thought, veering to one side and racing for the tree. And I hope what Ivypool said was right. There’s no time to think of anything else!

  Reaching the tree, Twigpaw hurled herself upward, digging her claws deep into the bark. Scurrying up the trunk as fast as she could, she heard the snapping of jaws below her tail, and whisked it out of reach just in time.

  Scrambling onto a forking branch, Twigpaw looked down. All three dogs were at the bottom of the tree, their forelegs reaching upward to rest on the tree trunk. Their deep-chested barking went on and on, and Twigpaw recoiled a little at the vicious threat in their eyes. But she realized that they couldn’t climb up to get at her.

  I’m safe! she thought. Thank you, Ivypool!

  Twigpaw’s heart was still pounding from fear and the exertion of the chase. To be extra safe, she decided to climb higher, her confidence returning as she bounded from branch to branch. Clustering leaves cut off the sight of the dogs below, though she could still hear their barking.

  “Bark on, flea-pelts!” she meowed triumphantly. “You’re not eating cat today!”

  When Twigpaw finally came to a halt, she could see the land stretching away into the distance in every direction. But most of her view was cut off by leaves.

  “I should find somewhere I can see better,” she muttered to herself. “I might even be able to spot the barn from Alderheart’s vision.”

  Setting her paws down cautiously, Twigpaw ventured onto a branch that stretched out over the Thunderpath. On the opposite side of the hard black surface she could see trees and undergrowth and Twoleg nests, but nothing that gave her any idea of where to go next.

  When she looked down, Twigpaw could see the monsters roaring past her on the Thunderpath. Their fumes rose up to her like smoke, and she gagged on the acrid taste. The noise and the bright, spe
eding colors confused her, and her head began to spin. She wanted to retreat along the branch, back to the safety of crisscrossing branches and clumps of leaves, but her paws felt clumsy, and the branch kept shifting under her weight.

  As she began to edge backward, Twigpaw felt her paws slipping. Letting out a yowl of alarm, she slid out her claws, but they raked uselessly across the surface of the branch. Twigpaw’s yowl rose into a panic-stricken screech as she felt herself falling. She bounced off a lower branch, and her shriek was abruptly cut off as she thumped down onto the Thunderpath, the blow driving all the breath out of her body.

  Looking up, dazed, Twigpaw saw a huge monster bearing down on her, screeching as it came. Two Twolegs were trapped inside the monster’s belly. Their eyes were staring and their jaws wide open as if they were yowling.

  They look terrified! Twigpaw thought. The monster’s eaten them, and it’s still hungry!

  Her whirling brain had just formed the thought Those poor Twolegs! when the monster came rushing up at her, and the whole world vanished into smothering darkness.

  CHAPTER 9

  Violetpaw shifted uncomfortably in her nest, listening to Needletail as she whimpered and twitched in a bad dream. Gently, she drew her tail across her friend’s shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t disturb Zelda, who was curled up in a deep sleep at the far side of the den.

  “Hush,” she whispered to Needletail. “It’ll be okay.”

  But is that true? Violetpaw asked herself.

  Over the last few days, ever since the kittypets had come to join the Kin, things had only gotten worse. Darktail had coerced Max, Loki, and Zelda to stay even longer than the day or two they had first agreed to, telling them that they had pledged their loyalty—and that if they left now, they could never come back.

  I don’t like the way they’re being treated, Violetpaw thought, but what can I do?

  Needletail let out another whimper, and once again Violetpaw stroked her shoulder with the tip of her tail. She guessed that Needletail was dreaming about Rain; she did that almost every night, calling out his name in her sleep.

  Or maybe she’s having a nightmare about what’s going to happen in the morning. Violetpaw shivered. But I’m not going to let myself think about that.

  Unable to sleep, Violetpaw gazed up at the stars, reflecting how Needletail had changed in the last few days. Rain’s death had broken something within her. To other cats Needletail would always insist that Rain was a traitor, and that Darktail had only done what a good leader had to do. “Rain was not the cat I thought he was,” she had meowed more than once.

  But Violetpaw knew that Needletail’s feelings were more complicated than that. Before Rain’s death, even when things got tough, she would always have a joke or a cheerful remark for Violetpaw. Now her carefree spirit had vanished, leaving something darker and heavier in its place. It was Violetpaw’s turn to take care of her.

  And I do it gladly, Violetpaw thought, giving her sleeping friend’s ear a lick. But it’s weird and scary, like I’m her mentor or something.

  Another yelp came from Needletail, who thrashed her tail to and fro in the throes of her nightmare. Violetpaw cuddled closer to her friend, but it didn’t seem to help.

  Eventually weariness began to overcome Violetpaw. She closed her eyes and was beginning to drift into a restless, dreamless sleep when she felt a paw prodding her in the side.

  Confused, Violetpaw struggled back to wakefulness. “Needletail . . . ,” she muttered.

  But when her eyes were fully open, it was Dawnpelt—her former mentor in ShadowClan—who she saw. The she-cat’s head and shoulders were thrust through the bushes at the entrance to the den, her pale fur glimmering in the starlight.

  “What . . . ?” Violetpaw began.

  Dawnpelt raised a paw for silence. “I had to come and tell you,” she whispered. “I’m leaving.”

  Surprised, Violetpaw half sat up; disturbed by her movement, Needletail seemed to rouse for a heartbeat, then fell back into her uneasy sleep.

  “I realize now that staying with Darktail and his Kin was a mistake,” Dawnpelt went on rapidly. “They’re bad cats! So I’m doing what I should have done in the first place: I’m going to ThunderClan to be with Rowanstar and Tawnypelt, and I’m leaving now so that Darktail won’t know that I’ve gone until it’s too late.”

  At first Violetpaw was amazed, though she soon realized she had no reason to be. In the last few days, Birchbark, Lioneye, and Mistcloud had all left the Kin. What had surprised her then was that Darktail had let them go, even offering to escort them off the territory.

  “Kinship goes both ways,” he had meowed solemnly. “I don’t want cats here who will not be loyal.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Violetpaw asked.

  “I want you to come with me,” Dawnpelt replied. “I already sent Juniperclaw and Strikestone on ahead, and we can sneak away tonight, without Darktail seeing.”

  “Why?” Violetpaw was puzzled. “Darktail took it really well when Lioneye and the others left.”

  Dawnpelt looked uneasy, scrabbling with her forepaws among the bracken at the edge of the den. “I just don’t trust him,” she confessed.

  Violetpaw could understand that. “What about Sleekwhisker?” she asked.

  Dawnpelt’s expression darkened. “Sleekwhisker would never want to leave,” she replied. “I haven’t even told her.”

  Violetpaw looked down at the sleeping Needletail, who had curled her tail around Violetpaw’s hindquarters as if she was making sure to keep her close.

  Would she ever come with me to ThunderClan? Violetpaw asked herself. Then she shook her head. No, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t.

  Even though Needletail was so unhappy here, Violetpaw couldn’t imagine her ever admitting she had been wrong. And that was what she would be doing if she left to go to ThunderClan.

  “I’m sorry, but . . . I can’t go,” Violetpaw mewed softly to Dawnpelt. “I have to stay here with Needletail.”

  Dawnpelt gave an irritated flick of her ears. “Have you got bees in your brain, Violetpaw? What the rogues are doing here is not good. What they’re about to do tomorrow goes against everything Clan cats believe in.”

  “Darktail says we’re not Clan cats,” Violetpaw pointed out.

  “Yes, and that’s exactly the problem.” A low growl came from Dawnpelt’s throat. “Clan cats have a code. Clan cats have honor. What do these rogues have?”

  She’s right . . . But Violetpaw had to thrust that reaction away. They’re the only kin I have now, she admitted to herself, with another glance at Needletail.

  An image of Twigpaw flashed into her mind: the look of dismay and disbelief when Violetpaw had attacked her in the battle. Once, the thought of going to ThunderClan to be with her sister would have filled her with joy, like sunlight striking down into a dark place. But she knew that her decision during that battle had cut her off forever from the light.

  “Violetpaw, please come,” Dawnpelt urged her again. “You can be my apprentice again in ThunderClan.”

  With a massive effort Violetpaw pushed away the thought of Twigpaw, and the idea of having a real mentor again in a real Clan. “I’m sorry; I can’t,” she whispered.

  Dawnpelt dipped her head in sad acceptance of Violetpaw’s decision. “May StarClan light your path, always,” she murmured, and slipped away into the darkness.

  With a long sigh Violetpaw curled up again in her nest and closed her eyes. She was just sinking into sleep again when a distant yowling woke her.

  What now? she wondered wearily.

  Her ears pricked alertly, Violetpaw strained to hear what was going on. She could make out the voices of two cats, and with a sudden chill she recognized that they belonged to Dawnpelt and Darktail.

  Darktail must have caught Dawnpelt before she got away!

  The cats’ tones were angry, though they were too far away for Violetpaw to make out the words. But it was clear that they were arguing.

  I w
onder why, Violetpaw asked herself. Darktail just let the other cats go, so why would he be upset about Dawnpelt leaving?

  After a heartbeat the voices moved a little closer. Violetpaw heard Darktail meow, “If you don’t want to be with us anymore, then you are no longer our Kin.”

  Violetpaw relaxed a little with relief. It sounded as if Darktail was letting Dawnpelt go after all.

  At last Needletail had sunk into deeper sleep. Violetpaw lay by her side, still trying to overhear what Dawnpelt and Darktail were saying, though now the voices were receding into the distance.

  Have I made a mistake by staying? Violetpaw asked herself as she drifted back into sleep. No, she decided. I owe Needletail everything.

  Darktail and Raven had roused Violetpaw and the rest of the Kin as the first pale gleam of dawn crept into the sky. Giving the order for silence, Darktail had led them through the forest, the only sound the whispering of their paws as they padded over the thick layer of pine needles that covered the ground. Now they stood at the edge of the little Thunderpath that separated their territory from RiverClan’s.

  Glancing around, Violetpaw realized that almost all the Kin were gathered there, the former ShadowClan warriors and the rogues. Thistle, Roach, Pinenose, Sparrowtail, Berryheart, Rippletail, Cloverfoot . . . The line of cats seemed endless. Even the elders, Oakfur and Ratscar, were there, and the three kittypets, Zelda, Loki, and Max.

  That’s not right, Violetpaw thought. This is no place for elders or kittypets.

  She was standing with Zelda on one side of her and Loki on the other, with Max just behind them. Violetpaw wished that she could have been nearer to Needletail, but her friend stood several fox-lengths away, closely escorted by Roach and Raven.

  They haven’t moved from her side since we left camp, Violetpaw thought. I wonder why.

  “I’m so nervous,” Zelda murmured into Violetpaw’s ear. “I wish we could have had something to eat before we set out. I’m starving!”