River, page 15
Mothwing gave her a brisk nod. “Off you go, then.”
Frostpaw felt as if a tough bit of prey were sticking in her throat. All three warriors were looking at her; Curlfeather had a glow of affection in her gaze, but both Gorseclaw and Splashtail seemed doubtful, as if they were waiting for her to make a mistake. Her paws seemed frozen to the ground; she told them to move, but they didn’t obey her.
“The last time we saw Reedwhisker, on that patrol,” Curlfeather began in a helpful tone, “we were hunting near the greenleaf Twolegplace. We could start there. If you think that’s a good idea, Frostpaw,” she added.
Frostpaw silently thanked StarClan that her mother was part of the patrol. She swallowed hard.
“That’s a great idea,” she agreed. She tried to put some authority into her voice, but she thought she must sound like a scared kit. “We’ll start by heading in that direction.”
Frostpaw felt as if a whole flight of butterflies were whirling around in her belly as she left the RiverClan camp at the head of the patrol. She could still hardly believe that Mothwing had given her the responsibility; she just hoped that her mentor had been right to trust her.
Oh, StarClan, please let me find Reedwhisker, she prayed silently, and added to herself, Alive.
If only she could return to camp with the deputy, the cat who was overdue to become Clan leader, with some explanation of where he had been all this time, then RiverClan’s troubles would be over. But Frostpaw couldn’t quite make herself believe that it would happen.
Heading out into the territory, Frostpaw was comforted by the presence of her mother padding by her side, with Gorseclaw and Splashtail just behind. She was sure that whatever lay ahead of them, the three warriors would make sure that nothing could go too badly wrong.
Though she tried to seem confident, Frostpaw was aware that she didn’t know the territory nearly well enough. After she had been made an apprentice, Mothwing had taken her on a tour of the borders, and they went out nearly every day to gather herbs. So Frostpaw knew the best places to find horsetail and marigold—but she had no idea where the deep, shadowy place she had seen in her vision might be.
“I wonder if Twolegs could have taken Reedwhisker,” she suggested to her mother as they turned toward the greenleaf Twolegplace.
Curlfeather gave her whiskers a thoughtful twitch. “I’ve heard of that happening,” she responded. “Does it fit with what you saw in your vision?”
“I don’t think so.” Frostpaw shook her head uncertainly. It was becoming harder to remember exactly what she had seen up at the Moonpool, but the place in her vision had seemed wilder and more desolate than anything to do with Twolegs.
Though I thought I heard Twoleg voices in the distance, she reminded herself. That might mean we’re heading in the right direction.
Frostpaw led her patrol along the edge of the lake until they had almost reached the halfbridge. Hesitating for a moment, she wished once again that she knew the territory well enough to guide the patrol. There had been no sign of the lake in her vision, so the obvious choice was to veer away from the waterside toward the RiverClan border that ran for many fox-lengths alongside the first dens of the Twolegplace.
“This way,” she meowed with a wave of her tail, hoping she sounded confident.
But as Frostpaw headed for the border, she realized after a few paw steps that Splashtail wasn’t following.
“Why would Reedwhisker have gone this way?” he grumbled. “There’s not much prey near the Twolegplace.” He added, in a voice just loud enough for Frostpaw to hear, “Mouse-brained apprentice!”
Annoyance gave Frostpaw the courage to argue with a warrior. “Who’s leading this patrol?” she demanded.
Splashtail shrugged. “Suit yourself. Don’t blame me if it all goes wrong.”
The ground was almost flat near the lake, but as the patrol moved farther from it, the slope rapidly grew steeper. Reaching the ridge, Frostpaw realized that she stood on the brink of a ravine, with ferns and bushes rooted in a rocky cliff. At the bottom was a winding path of sharp stones; Frostpaw guessed that in rainy weather there might be a small stream, but for now the rocks were dry.
Frostpaw’s fur prickled as she gazed down into the ravine. A sick feeling swelled in her belly and rose into her throat; she had to choke it back. Her dark vision returned to her mind: This was a shadowy place, just like the one Leopardstar had spoken of. And it was near the place where her mother had told her the patrol had been hunting.
“Do you sense something here?” Curlfeather asked.
“I think so.” Frostpaw’s voice was shaking, and she made a massive effort to steady it. “We should investigate the ravine.”
To begin with, the warriors spread out along the top of the cliff, calling out Reedwhisker’s name, over and over. There was no reply. With every heartbeat that passed, Frostpaw felt more and more worried.
Something terrible has happened. If Reedwhisker were alive and well, he would have come back to camp by now.
“This is no use,” Gorseclaw meowed eventually. “We’ll have to go down there.”
Splashtail gave the cliff a doubtful look. “We could break our necks.”
“No, it’ll be fine,” Gorseclaw told him. “I’ve hunted here before. When the stream is running, it’s a good place for prey. And I know a way down. Follow me.”
A few tail-lengths along the top of the ravine, a narrow path led down among the rocks, zigzagging across the face of the cliff. Gorseclaw took the lead; Frostpaw followed, with Curlfeather just behind her and Splashtail bringing up the rear.
“Watch where you’re putting your paws,” Curlfeather warned Frostpaw. “If you slip, I’ll try to catch you.”
I’m not a kit! Frostpaw thought, indignant at her mother’s fussing. I’m a medicine cat, leading a very important mission.
All four cats reached the bottom of the cliff without mishap. “We’d better split up and search,” Frostpaw suggested, slightly embarrassed to be directing experienced warriors.
“Good idea.” Gorseclaw gave her an approving look, making her feel better. “We’ll call out if we find anything.”
The patrol headed off in different directions. Frostpaw plodded along the dry streambed, her pads soon feeling sore from the sharp stones. Not far away she could hear her mother calling, “Reedwhisker! Reedwhisker!” Frostpaw couldn’t feel hopeful enough to call out the deputy’s name. A cold stone seemed to have settled in her belly; she was sure the deputy was dead.
Ahead of Frostpaw the ravine narrowed, the cliffs on either side drawing together into an impassable barrier. She realized she would have to turn back. At the same moment, she heard a bone-chilling wail rise up behind her and recognized Gorseclaw’s voice.
Instantly Frostpaw whirled around and began racing back the way she had come, with no thought now about her sore pads. Splashtail and Curlfeather appeared from the undergrowth as she ran, and the three cats sped together along the ravine bottom until they reached Gorseclaw.
The white tom was standing at the top of a tumble of rocks. When the stream was flowing, they would have formed a waterfall. He was staring downward; panting up to his side, Frostpaw followed his gaze. Stretched out at the bottom of the rocks was Reedwhisker’s body.
“Oh, no!” Curlfeather exclaimed, her voice full of distress. “He is dead! I just knew it!”
“We should go down,” Gorseclaw meowed. “Maybe he’s just unconscious.”
Frostpaw was sure that the white tom was wrong, and that the Clan deputy really was dead: his head was at a strange angle, as if his neck was broken. The last thing she wanted to do was go down there and check, but she knew that as a medicine cat it was her duty.
Slowly Frostpaw began picking her way down the tumble of rocks toward Reedwhisker’s unmoving body. She heard her mother warn her to be careful, but she was concentrating too hard to respond. She could imagine herself slipping and landing beside Reedwhisker, dead like him or badly injured, and she had to brace herself and stop her paws from shaking.
“If only I’d had my vision sooner,” she mewed, a hot wave of guilt washing over her. “Then we might have been in time to save him.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Curlfeather responded briskly. “There’s nothing any cat could have done. It looks as if the fall killed him.”
Frostpaw hoped that her mother was right, but her feelings of guilt wouldn’t go away.
Finally Frostpaw made it to the bottom of the rocks and padded up to Reedwhisker’s body. The black tom was lying with his limbs splayed out; his eyes were filmed over and his teeth set as if he were growling at an enemy. When Frostpaw stretched out a tentative paw and touched his shoulder, he was stiff and cold.
A moment later Curlfeather was beside her, brushing her tail over Frostpaw’s shoulder and giving her ear a comforting lick. “I’m sorry you have to see that,” she sighed, then added, “Look at those scrapes along his back. That’s where he must have hit the sharp rocks as he fell.”
Frostpaw looked more closely, and saw several scratches running the length of Reedwhisker’s spine, where the fur had been torn away to expose the flesh beneath. The scrapes had bled, though the blood was dry now.
“That looks almost like a badger’s claws,” she mused.
“Nonsense, that’s nothing like a badger,” Curlfeather meowed. “The fall must have killed him. We should bring him back to his Clan.”
Stepping back, she saw that Gorseclaw and Splashtail had also joined her at the bottom of the slope. Both of them stood with bowed heads, and when they looked up, Frostpaw saw grief and apprehension in their eyes.
“I’ll carry him on my back,” Gorseclaw declared. “Splashtail, Curlfeather, you can walk with me and help balance him.”
Frostpaw watched while her Clanmates lifted the deputy’s body onto the white tom’s back. Her mind was spinning as she tried to work out what the future would hold for RiverClan.
It was Splashtail who put words to her misgivings. “What happens to RiverClan now?” he asked. “How do we know which cat should be leader?”
“That’s up to StarClan,” Gorseclaw replied. “They will decide.”
Every hair on Frostpaw’s pelt began to quiver with nervousness. Mothwing can’t make contact with StarClan. That means it’s up to me to speak with them and tell my Clan who their choice is for leader.
Together the three warriors managed to haul Reedwhisker’s body up the narrow path to the top of the ravine, with Frostpaw following. Her paws felt heavy, as if her body were echoing her reluctance to return to camp and face the overwhelming responsibility that had been laid upon her.
When they reached the top and set out across the territory, Curlfeather beckoned to her with a flick of her ears. “I can tell you’re nervous,” she mewed quietly to Frostpaw, “but you don’t need to be. StarClan helped you find Reedwhisker, didn’t they? You’re going to be a great medicine cat, and you should trust your instincts.” She whisked her tail around to touch Frostpaw’s shoulder. “You’ll know when StarClan has chosen the new leader,” she promised.
Frostpaw felt encouraged by her mother’s words and her reassuring touch, but her task still loomed ahead of her like a massive tree that she was being forced to climb.
“I hope you’re right,” she responded to Curlfeather. The faces of her Clanmates seemed to swim in front of her, each one a loyal and talented cat. Where will I even start? How will I know which cat StarClan has chosen? “I’ll do my best,” she resolved.
Chapter 18
Sunbeam lay curled up in her nest in the warriors’ den, her tail wrapped over her nose. She felt too depressed even to stretch out a paw, much less leave the den and try to join a patrol.
I know I’m moping, she admitted to herself. And I can’t go on like this forever. But if ever a cat deserved a bit of a mope, it’s me, right now.
It wasn’t every day that the cat you were hoping might one day be your mate did something so totally mouse-brained behind your back, then immediately told you that you weren’t right for each other.
What’s wrong with me? she asked herself.
Lightleap had told her that she wasn’t in love with Blazefire, but that didn’t mean Blazefire hadn’t fallen in love with her. Sunbeam found it hard to believe that it was a coincidence Blazefire had decided that the two of them wouldn’t be good as mates just after he had started spending a lot more time with Lightleap.
Does that mean I’m boring? Sunbeam wondered miserably. Maybe I should volunteer to go into the Dark Forest, then get too scared and feel bad about it? Would that make me a more attractive mate?
Sunbeam gave herself an inward shake. She knew she wasn’t being entirely fair to Lightleap. But then, nothing about this is fair!
She looked up at the sound of a cat brushing through the low-hanging branches that guarded the den. She opened her eyes to see her brother Spireclaw picking his way around the empty nests to join her.
“How do you feel?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Sunbeam replied, a sarcastic edge to her tone. “Everything is sunshine and daisies right now, thanks for asking.”
Spireclaw let out a sigh and settled himself beside her with his paws tucked under him. Sunbeam wasn’t usually especially close to him, but he had caught her just after Blazefire had told her they would never be mates. Struggling with misery and anger, she had told Spireclaw the whole story about Blazefire and Lightleap. His kindness had been like a warm pelt wrapped around her, and now his eyes were full of sympathy.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” he murmured. “Love is complicated.”
Sunbeam couldn’t suppress a snort. “What would you know about it?” Her littermate had never shown the least interest in any of the ShadowClan she-cats.
For a heartbeat Spireclaw did not meet her gaze, and at once Sunbeam felt guilty for snapping at him. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she mewed. “I know I shouldn’t take it out on you, but I’m so angry and sad right now, I couldn’t help it. Maybe I shouldn’t be around any cat for a while.”
“But you can’t hide in here forever,” Spireclaw objected, sounding brisk and practical. “Is it actually making you feel any better?”
Sunbeam had to shake her head. “No, it’s not,” she admitted.
“So get out there,” her brother urged her. “Go and live your life. Show those mouse-brains that they can’t upset you. You’ll feel so much better.”
Spireclaw was being just as annoying as usual, but Sunbeam couldn’t deny there was sense in what he said. “Okay,” she responded, the word breathed out on a sigh. “I’ll try, if it’ll make you happy.”
“Good.” Spireclaw leaned over to nudge her shoulder with his nose. “Cloverfoot is sorting out hunting patrols. She’ll be glad of another set of paws.”
With a massive effort, Sunbeam stood and shook the debris from her nest out of her pelt. Spireclaw is right. I need something to take my mind off all this.
Slipping through the branches out into the open, Sunbeam spotted Cloverfoot surrounded by a group of warriors as she arranged the patrols.
Sunbeam bounded over to her. “Can I join?” she asked.
“Sure you can,” the deputy replied. “Here, you can go with Snowbird and Whorlpelt.”
Snowbird gave Sunbeam a friendly nod as she padded over to join the patrol, limping slightly as she always did. As the white she-cat turned to lead the others out of the camp, Sunbeam noticed that along with the other two warriors, Gullswoop was coming with them, too.
Oh, no, not her!
Gullswoop didn’t speak, and Sunbeam certainly wasn’t about to discuss Blazefire with her, but she could feel her Clanmate’s sympathetic gaze resting on her as they padded into the forest. It stung, as if a whole nestful of ants were crawling through her pelt.
Ranging a few paces ahead of the patrol in her efforts to avoid Gullswoop, Sunbeam concentrated on her hunting, and managed to catch a mouse as it scuttled for cover among the roots of a tree.
“Great leap!” Whorlpelt exclaimed.
“Yes, you’re a brilliant hunter,” Gullswoop added, still with that infuriating look of sympathy in her eyes.
“Thanks,” Sunbeam mewed through gritted teeth. If she doesn’t stop trying to cheer me up, I’ll . . .
The hunt continued: Snowbird and Whorlpelt brought down a squirrel with a neat bit of teamwork, and even Gullswoop stopped staring at Sunbeam long enough to catch a blackbird. Spireclaw was right, Sunbeam thought. I do feel better out here, instead of lurking in the den.
“This is going well,” Whorlpelt commented. “We should have a nice full fresh-kill pile tonight.”
Skirting a clump of stunted pine trees, the patrol emerged into a clearing that was half covered by a sprawling bramble thicket. Flaxfoot and Hollowspring were standing beside it, staring into the mass of tendrils with a disgusted expression on their faces.
“What’s the matter with you?” Snowbird asked, bounding forward to join her Clanmates.
“We caught a couple of pigeons,” Flaxfoot explained, as Sunbeam and the others padded up. “At least, Hollowspring caught his, but I was stalking mine along that tree branch up there.” He gestured with his tail at a long pine branch that stretched over the cats’ heads. “I caught it all right, but my claws snagged in its wing feathers, and it fell into the brambles here.” He let out a sigh of exasperation. “The thicket is far too dense for us to go in and get it. It was a good fat one, too.”
“Clumsy furball,” Hollowspring meowed, giving his Clanmate a friendly shove with one shoulder.
Sunbeam peered into the brambles. She could just make out the gray-and-white feathers of the pigeon, almost completely hidden by the tangled tendrils. “I’ll go and get it,” she announced.
“What?” Snowbird turned on her, a look of dismay in her eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“You’ll only hurt yourself,” Whorlpelt added.
