Onestar's Confession, page 28
Onestar glanced over his shoulder and saw that Darktail was charging in pursuit, with the rest of the cats, rogues and WindClan warriors, streaming after them. By the time Darktail caught up, pulling Onestar down with sharp claws, they were well on the way to ThunderClan’s camp.
Darktail slashed at Onestar’s neck; screeching in pain, Onestar felt a rush of blood dampen his fur. He battered at Darktail with his hind paws, but he knew he was tiring. His Clanmates were battling bravely, but the fight could only have one conclusion.
Come on, ThunderClan. You’re always offering help, and now I’m ready to take it. Where are you?
Then a gust of fresh ThunderClan scent reached Onestar, for a moment overwhelming the reek of blood. Turning his head, Onestar spotted Cloudtail and Mousewhisker, appearing from behind a bramble thicket several fox-lengths away. Both cats halted, staring at the struggling cats with eyes and jaws wide in shock.
Onestar’s gaze locked with Mousewhisker’s. He jerked his head to one side, trying to tell the ThunderClan cats that they needed to fetch Bramblestar.
Massive relief shook Onestar as the two cats raced off, heading for their camp. Onestar was sure ThunderClan would come; all he and his Clanmates needed to do was hold on. But he knew that would not be easy. Writhing under Darktail’s claws, he could catch glimpses of Emberfoot and Furzepelt, struggling in the grip of the rogues, and hear their anguished cries. Tufts of their fur were scattered on the ground, and their pelts were matted with blood.
Hurry, ThunderClan, Onestar urged silently.
He could feel himself weakening under Darktail’s relentless blows when at last he heard the thrumming of many paw steps, and a group of cats—warriors and medicine cats, he realized—burst out of the undergrowth.
Bramblestar was in the lead. “Help them!” he ordered.
Behind Bramblestar were Cloudtail, Birchfall, Lionblaze, and Rosepetal; their paws seemed to fly over the ground as they raced toward the intruders. Jayfeather and Alderpaw, both carrying leaf wraps of herbs, withdrew to the shelter of a holly bush.
For a couple of heartbeats Darktail froze in shock at the sight of them. Then he dug his claws deeper into Onestar’s neck, thrusting his muzzle into Onestar’s face. “Coward!” he snapped. “What pathetic excuse for a leader are you, needing ThunderClan to fight your battles?”
Onestar was stunned to silence. Darktail knew that this was ThunderClan territory, and that the newcomers were ThunderClan cats. He must have been studying the Clans for some time. When he had revealed his presence through the attacks on Smokekit and Fernpaw, and Onestar himself, it was only because he wanted to issue his challenge.
Tossing Onestar aside, Darktail threw himself at Bramblestar, who was wrestling the big gray tom off Oatclaw. But even Darktail must have realized that the tide of battle had turned. Onestar managed to sit up and saw Cloudtail thrusting himself between Furzepelt and the brown tabby tom; the tom hissed defiance and lunged at Cloudtail, knocking him off his paws. Then Birchfall was there, grabbing the tabby tom by the scruff and tossing him aside. Rosepetal had her forelegs clamped around the white she-cat’s neck, rolling with her on the ground, while Emberfoot and Bramblestar together were driving back the silver gray tom.
The rogues were clearly defeated, but they still fought on. At last, Bramblestar leaped onto a tree stump and yowled, “Stop!”
The authority in his voice was enough to make warrior and rogue alike freeze as if they had been turned to ice, each cat’s face turned toward him. Onestar was affected just as much as the others, hating to admit that even he found the ThunderClan leader intimidating.
Bramblestar stared straight at Darktail, compelling the rogue’s gaze. “Leave,” he snarled. “Before we rip the pelts off your back.”
An involuntary shudder rippled through Darktail’s body; when he spoke, it was Onestar he addressed, his eyes filled with hatred. “This won’t be the last you see of us,” he hissed. “We came here for a reason, and we don’t intend to leave until we’re good and ready. We have a mission here, and we know more about your so-called Clans than you think.”
Onestar couldn’t help feeling grateful when Darktail turned to leave without another word. As he watched the other rogues limp after him into the ferns, and heard Bramblestar call Jayfeather forward to help the wounded, he wondered how close they had come to a massacre.
The ThunderClan cats had only minor injuries; they stepped back to allow the medicine cats to treat the more severely wounded WindClan warriors.
“Alderpaw, find some cobwebs,” Jayfeather ordered, sniffing at a long gash down Oatclaw’s side.
As the ThunderClan apprentice darted away, Onestar heard a strangled groan coming from beside a nearby tree. Furzepelt staggered into the clearing. She exchanged one glance with Onestar: a glance filled with regret, sorrow, and questions. Questions that would never be answered. She collapsed to the ground with another drawn-out groan, and the light died from her eyes.
Onestar struggled to get up, to go to his Clanmate’s side. Sorrow surged over him at the thought that Furzepelt had been willing to attack Darktail and his rogues, not even knowing who he was or what he wanted from WindClan.
And now she’ll never know.
But Onestar had been too badly weakened by the wound in his neck where Darktail had slashed at him. Sinking to the ground again, he heard Alderpaw and Jayfeather arguing about what they could do for him; their voices echoed strangely, as if they came from a great distance.
Letting out a final gasp, Onestar followed Furzepelt into the dark.
Chapter 25
Rain set in as the cats trekked back to the ThunderClan camp. When they arrived, Onestar crouched outside the medicine cats’ den, his shoulders hunched against the downpour. Inside the den, Oatclaw and Emberfoot were resting after Jayfeather and Alderpaw had treated their wounds.
Even though only a few moments had passed before Onestar returned to his body, the ravages of the battle completely healed, he hadn’t yet recovered from the jarring experience of losing a life. Even worse, it sickened him that it was Darktail who had stolen it.
Is this what Stoneteller meant? he wondered. Is this the sacrifice that I had to make, to be rid of Darktail?
He hoped that he was right, and that the price had already been paid, so that now he could concentrate on driving Darktail out of the Clan territories for good. He hadn’t expected that his nine lives would slip away so quickly. I lost a life in the stoat battle, one to greencough, one when I drove a fox off our territory . . . So many lives. Will it be Darktail who takes my last one?
Bramblestar had called a Clan meeting, and the ThunderClan cats were gathered beneath the Highledge to discuss what they should do about the rogues. But Onestar’s paws were itching to return to his own Clan. He was deeply grateful for what the ThunderClan cats had done, but his gratitude felt like a whole nestful of ants crawling through his pelt. He remembered the warnings Ashfoot had given him when he first became leader, about being too dependent on ThunderClan. Am I in debt to Bramblestar now? Onestar trusted the powerful tabby tom—Tigerstar’s son—far less than he had trusted Firestar.
Darktail had lost the battle, but Onestar knew one defeat wouldn’t be enough to stop him from haunting WindClan. His hatred ran too deep; besides, he and his rogues had killed a WindClan warrior and taken a life from their leader. With that success on his tongue like a tasty piece of fresh-kill, why wouldn’t Darktail redouble his efforts?
Our conflict is not over. And we need to bury our dead.
Rising to his paws, Onestar splashed his way across the camp until he stood just below the Highledge. “I want to take Furzepelt back to our camp so we can sit vigil,” he announced.
“Before you do, I’d like a quick word with you,” Bramblestar meowed. “I was wondering whether these rogues could have something to do with the prophecy.”
Onestar stared at him. The thought had never crossed his mind. “I doubt it,” he murmured, with a dismissive flick of his ears. “What could rogues have to do with clearing the sky?”
Bramblestar’s amber gaze rested on him a moment longer. “You could well be right,” he admitted. “But it might be worth bearing in mind.”
Onestar couldn’t agree, but the ThunderClan leader’s words woke a worm of uneasiness in his belly. Could Darktail be planning something that would disrupt all the Clans? No! He tried to push the thought away. Surely this is our own private quarrel?
Before Onestar could respond to Bramblestar, Jayfeather stepped forward. “Oatclaw and Emberfoot are too badly wounded to help carry Furzepelt,” he objected. “Movement will reopen their wounds. They should stay here for a few days.”
Onestar glared at him, even though he knew that the blind medicine cat couldn’t see his hostile expression. “They are warriors. They are strong. They will travel with me.”
Jayfeather turned in his direction, his blue gaze calm and unyielding. “I have an apprentice,” he meowed. “Kestrelflight has none. Let him save his herbs and his energy for his Clanmates on the moor. We can take care of Oatclaw and Emberfoot until they are fit to travel.”
Onestar transferred his glare to Bramblestar, opening his jaws to protest.
But the ThunderClan leader forestalled him. “I will send a patrol home with you, Onestar,” he declared, his voice quiet and persuasive. “They can help carry Furzepelt’s body.”
Onestar gave an angry twitch of his tail, though he was beginning to accept that this was an argument he wasn’t going to win.
“You’ve lost one Clanmate today,” Jayfeather pointed out. “Don’t risk another.”
The patrol isn’t only meant to carry Furzepelt home, Onestar guessed, but to protect me too, from rogues that might be lurking. He was thoroughly embarrassed, in front of the whole of ThunderClan, to admit that he needed their aid, but he knew that turning it down could mean his Clanmates might die, and he might be robbed of yet another life. “Very well,” he snorted.
Bramblestar summoned Snowbush, Blossomfall, and Berrynose, who took up Furzepelt’s body as respectfully as if she had been their own Clanmate. Onestar looked into the medicine cats’ den, intending to say farewell to Emberfoot and Oatclaw, but they were both sleeping from the poppy seed Jayfeather had given them for their pain. With grudging thanks to the medicine cats, he trudged out of the camp, the ThunderClan patrol following him.
Trekking across the moor, with the ground boggy from the rain, took a long time, especially as the cats were slowed down by carrying Furzepelt. Onestar breathed a sigh of relief as the gorse bushes around the top of the hollow came into sight.
Before they reached the camp, a patrol emerged from the bushes; Harespring was in the lead, followed by Sedgewhisker and Slightfoot. They bounded forward as soon as they spotted Onestar and the ThunderClan cats.
“What happened?” Harespring demanded, halting in front of Onestar. “Where have you been?”
“Furzepelt!” Sedgewhisker exclaimed, her eyes wide with horror. “Oh, StarClan, no!”
“Let’s get back to camp,” Onestar replied to his deputy. “Then I’ll tell you everything.”
He said no more while Slightfoot and Sedgewhisker took Furzepelt’s body from the ThunderClan cats and bore her off into the camp for her vigil. The ThunderClan cats turned away with respectful dips of their heads, heading back across the moor to their own territory.
“Thank you for your help,” Onestar muttered, every word an effort. “We need to step up our patrols,” he continued to Harespring as he and his deputy padded back to the hollow side by side. “Starting now, WindClan is on high alert.”
Over the next quarter moon, Onestar did everything he could think of to guard his camp. The border patrols were increased from two or three cats to five. The nursery and the elders’ den had a guard day and night. Apprentices were barely allowed to move without permission from their mentors. Onestar even ordered a warrior to accompany Kestrelflight if he needed to visit another Clan’s medicine cats, in case Darktail should ambush him on the way.
It’s going well, he thought, gazing around the camp with an inward purr of satisfaction. I know the Clan isn’t too keen about the changes, but sooner or later they’ll know it’s for the best.
Then Onestar noticed Fernpaw, Crowfeather’s apprentice, pushing her way through the gorse bushes at the top of the hollow, a mouse dangling from her jaws. She bounded down the slope to drop her prey on the fresh-kill pile.
Onestar padded up to her. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “Where’s your mentor?”
Fernpaw flinched at his harsh tone but answered him readily. “Crowfeather’s on a border patrol, Onestar. I’m not allowed to go with him.”
That was a rule Onestar had made, because of the danger from Darktail. “You’re not allowed out of camp without him, either,” he meowed. “So why did you think it was okay to go off hunting?”
“I didn’t, Onestar,” Fernpaw protested, her gray tabby pelt beginning to bristle up with indignation. “I spotted the mouse in the bushes. It seemed mouse-brained not to catch it. I only went a couple of paw steps out of the hollow.”
“And that was a couple of paw steps too many,” Onestar snapped. “Go and report to Kestrelflight and tell him I said you were to do the elders’ ticks until the next Gathering.”
Fernpaw stared at him, disbelief in her eyes, as if she thought that he might be joking. But Onestar saw nothing amusing about having his orders disobeyed. The silence between them stretched out until Fernpaw’s disbelief faded, giving way to shock.
Her head and tail drooped. “Okay, Onestar. I’m really sorry.” Her voice shook a little; Onestar gave her a curt nod, acknowledging that at least she was brave enough not to complain. She trudged off toward the medicine cat’s den.
Onestar turned away and noticed for the first time that Whitetail was standing a couple of tail-lengths from him, gazing at him with disapproval in her eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked plaintively. “Poor Fernpaw didn’t really do anything wrong. You’re making every cat miserable with all these extra rules.”
“I’m doing it for the good of our Clan,” Onestar responded. “I’m trying to keep us safe. There are rogues lurking about.”
“I know that,” Whitetail mewed. “But is there some reason you think WindClan is more at risk than any other Clan?”
Once again, Onestar wished that he could tell his mate the whole truth. But that’s just too difficult. “Their leader, Darktail, is a very dangerous cat,” he declared. “And his fellow rogues are no better. Look what they did to Furzepelt. And how Smokekit was taken away. . . .”
“Smokekit was fine,” Whitetail pointed out. “If it was Darktail who took her, and not a stoat, and he intends to destroy WindClan, why wouldn’t he have killed her?”
He just wanted to show me he could have, Onestar thought. He was sending me a message.
“I don’t pretend to know all the thoughts of an unstable cat,” he meowed aloud, shaking his head. “But I don’t intend to leave my Clan vulnerable to another attack. I’ll do what I feel is necessary, and if the rest of the Clan doesn’t like it, too bad.”
Whitetail sighed, seeming bemused by his concern, but she didn’t argue any further. And even though Onestar knew that his Clanmates felt stifled under the new restrictions, no other cat spoke out against him.
That night, Onestar fell into restless sleep. He saw once more Furzepelt’s body staggering toward him, the pain and questioning in her eyes; he relived his death, his brief journey into StarClan, and his return to his body. Above all, he heard Darktail’s parting words, repeated over and over.
This won’t be the last you see of us. Only, in Onestar’s dream, the last word turned into the hiss of a snake.
Onestar’s eyes flew open. He was in his own den, with Whitetail sleeping beside him, his heart pounding uncomfortably with the memory of his dream. Then through the darkness he was sure he could see two gleaming blue eyes watching him intently from the entrance to the den, and the white fur of a cat glowing in the moonlight.
He leaped to his paws, ready to confront the intruder, but within a heartbeat whatever he had seen had disappeared. He poked his head out of the den, but all he could see was the empty expanse of the camp, and the stars gazing down at him.
For a few moments, Onestar stood in the entrance, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. What is happening to me? he wondered. Was Darktail really here, or am I losing my mind?
“What’s wrong?” Onestar heard Whitetail calling out sleepily behind him. She stumbled to her paws and reached out to nuzzle his cheek with her nose.
“He’s here for me,” Onestar muttered grimly.
But Whitetail was too drowsy to hear what he said, and settled back into their nest.
For a little longer, Onestar stayed looking out across the camp. It was clear to him now that Darktail wouldn’t rest until he had his revenge.
From now on, I won’t rest either.
Chapter 26
Onestar sat on a branch of the Great Oak and gazed around at the cats clustered below him on the Gathering island. Bright moonlight shone on their fur and gleamed in their eyes, yet the leaders looked worried. Even though moments before the Clans had been cheering for new warriors, the mood in the clearing had become somber.
Rowanstar stepped forward to the end of his branch and surveyed the cats in the clearing gravely. “The rogues that attacked Onestar’s patrol are living on the edge of our territory, near the border with ThunderClan,” he announced.
At the ShadowClan leader’s announcement Onestar stiffened, as shocked exclamations rose from the cats below. ThunderClan helped us to drive them out, and now ShadowClan is letting them live on their territory?
“Why don’t you chase them off?” Brackenfur of ThunderClan called out.
Rising from a group of WindClan cats, Breezepelt showed his teeth. “They’re murderers!” he yowled.
Crowfeather, sitting beside his son, lifted his muzzle. “We should join forces and drive them away.”
Darktail slashed at Onestar’s neck; screeching in pain, Onestar felt a rush of blood dampen his fur. He battered at Darktail with his hind paws, but he knew he was tiring. His Clanmates were battling bravely, but the fight could only have one conclusion.
Come on, ThunderClan. You’re always offering help, and now I’m ready to take it. Where are you?
Then a gust of fresh ThunderClan scent reached Onestar, for a moment overwhelming the reek of blood. Turning his head, Onestar spotted Cloudtail and Mousewhisker, appearing from behind a bramble thicket several fox-lengths away. Both cats halted, staring at the struggling cats with eyes and jaws wide in shock.
Onestar’s gaze locked with Mousewhisker’s. He jerked his head to one side, trying to tell the ThunderClan cats that they needed to fetch Bramblestar.
Massive relief shook Onestar as the two cats raced off, heading for their camp. Onestar was sure ThunderClan would come; all he and his Clanmates needed to do was hold on. But he knew that would not be easy. Writhing under Darktail’s claws, he could catch glimpses of Emberfoot and Furzepelt, struggling in the grip of the rogues, and hear their anguished cries. Tufts of their fur were scattered on the ground, and their pelts were matted with blood.
Hurry, ThunderClan, Onestar urged silently.
He could feel himself weakening under Darktail’s relentless blows when at last he heard the thrumming of many paw steps, and a group of cats—warriors and medicine cats, he realized—burst out of the undergrowth.
Bramblestar was in the lead. “Help them!” he ordered.
Behind Bramblestar were Cloudtail, Birchfall, Lionblaze, and Rosepetal; their paws seemed to fly over the ground as they raced toward the intruders. Jayfeather and Alderpaw, both carrying leaf wraps of herbs, withdrew to the shelter of a holly bush.
For a couple of heartbeats Darktail froze in shock at the sight of them. Then he dug his claws deeper into Onestar’s neck, thrusting his muzzle into Onestar’s face. “Coward!” he snapped. “What pathetic excuse for a leader are you, needing ThunderClan to fight your battles?”
Onestar was stunned to silence. Darktail knew that this was ThunderClan territory, and that the newcomers were ThunderClan cats. He must have been studying the Clans for some time. When he had revealed his presence through the attacks on Smokekit and Fernpaw, and Onestar himself, it was only because he wanted to issue his challenge.
Tossing Onestar aside, Darktail threw himself at Bramblestar, who was wrestling the big gray tom off Oatclaw. But even Darktail must have realized that the tide of battle had turned. Onestar managed to sit up and saw Cloudtail thrusting himself between Furzepelt and the brown tabby tom; the tom hissed defiance and lunged at Cloudtail, knocking him off his paws. Then Birchfall was there, grabbing the tabby tom by the scruff and tossing him aside. Rosepetal had her forelegs clamped around the white she-cat’s neck, rolling with her on the ground, while Emberfoot and Bramblestar together were driving back the silver gray tom.
The rogues were clearly defeated, but they still fought on. At last, Bramblestar leaped onto a tree stump and yowled, “Stop!”
The authority in his voice was enough to make warrior and rogue alike freeze as if they had been turned to ice, each cat’s face turned toward him. Onestar was affected just as much as the others, hating to admit that even he found the ThunderClan leader intimidating.
Bramblestar stared straight at Darktail, compelling the rogue’s gaze. “Leave,” he snarled. “Before we rip the pelts off your back.”
An involuntary shudder rippled through Darktail’s body; when he spoke, it was Onestar he addressed, his eyes filled with hatred. “This won’t be the last you see of us,” he hissed. “We came here for a reason, and we don’t intend to leave until we’re good and ready. We have a mission here, and we know more about your so-called Clans than you think.”
Onestar couldn’t help feeling grateful when Darktail turned to leave without another word. As he watched the other rogues limp after him into the ferns, and heard Bramblestar call Jayfeather forward to help the wounded, he wondered how close they had come to a massacre.
The ThunderClan cats had only minor injuries; they stepped back to allow the medicine cats to treat the more severely wounded WindClan warriors.
“Alderpaw, find some cobwebs,” Jayfeather ordered, sniffing at a long gash down Oatclaw’s side.
As the ThunderClan apprentice darted away, Onestar heard a strangled groan coming from beside a nearby tree. Furzepelt staggered into the clearing. She exchanged one glance with Onestar: a glance filled with regret, sorrow, and questions. Questions that would never be answered. She collapsed to the ground with another drawn-out groan, and the light died from her eyes.
Onestar struggled to get up, to go to his Clanmate’s side. Sorrow surged over him at the thought that Furzepelt had been willing to attack Darktail and his rogues, not even knowing who he was or what he wanted from WindClan.
And now she’ll never know.
But Onestar had been too badly weakened by the wound in his neck where Darktail had slashed at him. Sinking to the ground again, he heard Alderpaw and Jayfeather arguing about what they could do for him; their voices echoed strangely, as if they came from a great distance.
Letting out a final gasp, Onestar followed Furzepelt into the dark.
Chapter 25
Rain set in as the cats trekked back to the ThunderClan camp. When they arrived, Onestar crouched outside the medicine cats’ den, his shoulders hunched against the downpour. Inside the den, Oatclaw and Emberfoot were resting after Jayfeather and Alderpaw had treated their wounds.
Even though only a few moments had passed before Onestar returned to his body, the ravages of the battle completely healed, he hadn’t yet recovered from the jarring experience of losing a life. Even worse, it sickened him that it was Darktail who had stolen it.
Is this what Stoneteller meant? he wondered. Is this the sacrifice that I had to make, to be rid of Darktail?
He hoped that he was right, and that the price had already been paid, so that now he could concentrate on driving Darktail out of the Clan territories for good. He hadn’t expected that his nine lives would slip away so quickly. I lost a life in the stoat battle, one to greencough, one when I drove a fox off our territory . . . So many lives. Will it be Darktail who takes my last one?
Bramblestar had called a Clan meeting, and the ThunderClan cats were gathered beneath the Highledge to discuss what they should do about the rogues. But Onestar’s paws were itching to return to his own Clan. He was deeply grateful for what the ThunderClan cats had done, but his gratitude felt like a whole nestful of ants crawling through his pelt. He remembered the warnings Ashfoot had given him when he first became leader, about being too dependent on ThunderClan. Am I in debt to Bramblestar now? Onestar trusted the powerful tabby tom—Tigerstar’s son—far less than he had trusted Firestar.
Darktail had lost the battle, but Onestar knew one defeat wouldn’t be enough to stop him from haunting WindClan. His hatred ran too deep; besides, he and his rogues had killed a WindClan warrior and taken a life from their leader. With that success on his tongue like a tasty piece of fresh-kill, why wouldn’t Darktail redouble his efforts?
Our conflict is not over. And we need to bury our dead.
Rising to his paws, Onestar splashed his way across the camp until he stood just below the Highledge. “I want to take Furzepelt back to our camp so we can sit vigil,” he announced.
“Before you do, I’d like a quick word with you,” Bramblestar meowed. “I was wondering whether these rogues could have something to do with the prophecy.”
Onestar stared at him. The thought had never crossed his mind. “I doubt it,” he murmured, with a dismissive flick of his ears. “What could rogues have to do with clearing the sky?”
Bramblestar’s amber gaze rested on him a moment longer. “You could well be right,” he admitted. “But it might be worth bearing in mind.”
Onestar couldn’t agree, but the ThunderClan leader’s words woke a worm of uneasiness in his belly. Could Darktail be planning something that would disrupt all the Clans? No! He tried to push the thought away. Surely this is our own private quarrel?
Before Onestar could respond to Bramblestar, Jayfeather stepped forward. “Oatclaw and Emberfoot are too badly wounded to help carry Furzepelt,” he objected. “Movement will reopen their wounds. They should stay here for a few days.”
Onestar glared at him, even though he knew that the blind medicine cat couldn’t see his hostile expression. “They are warriors. They are strong. They will travel with me.”
Jayfeather turned in his direction, his blue gaze calm and unyielding. “I have an apprentice,” he meowed. “Kestrelflight has none. Let him save his herbs and his energy for his Clanmates on the moor. We can take care of Oatclaw and Emberfoot until they are fit to travel.”
Onestar transferred his glare to Bramblestar, opening his jaws to protest.
But the ThunderClan leader forestalled him. “I will send a patrol home with you, Onestar,” he declared, his voice quiet and persuasive. “They can help carry Furzepelt’s body.”
Onestar gave an angry twitch of his tail, though he was beginning to accept that this was an argument he wasn’t going to win.
“You’ve lost one Clanmate today,” Jayfeather pointed out. “Don’t risk another.”
The patrol isn’t only meant to carry Furzepelt home, Onestar guessed, but to protect me too, from rogues that might be lurking. He was thoroughly embarrassed, in front of the whole of ThunderClan, to admit that he needed their aid, but he knew that turning it down could mean his Clanmates might die, and he might be robbed of yet another life. “Very well,” he snorted.
Bramblestar summoned Snowbush, Blossomfall, and Berrynose, who took up Furzepelt’s body as respectfully as if she had been their own Clanmate. Onestar looked into the medicine cats’ den, intending to say farewell to Emberfoot and Oatclaw, but they were both sleeping from the poppy seed Jayfeather had given them for their pain. With grudging thanks to the medicine cats, he trudged out of the camp, the ThunderClan patrol following him.
Trekking across the moor, with the ground boggy from the rain, took a long time, especially as the cats were slowed down by carrying Furzepelt. Onestar breathed a sigh of relief as the gorse bushes around the top of the hollow came into sight.
Before they reached the camp, a patrol emerged from the bushes; Harespring was in the lead, followed by Sedgewhisker and Slightfoot. They bounded forward as soon as they spotted Onestar and the ThunderClan cats.
“What happened?” Harespring demanded, halting in front of Onestar. “Where have you been?”
“Furzepelt!” Sedgewhisker exclaimed, her eyes wide with horror. “Oh, StarClan, no!”
“Let’s get back to camp,” Onestar replied to his deputy. “Then I’ll tell you everything.”
He said no more while Slightfoot and Sedgewhisker took Furzepelt’s body from the ThunderClan cats and bore her off into the camp for her vigil. The ThunderClan cats turned away with respectful dips of their heads, heading back across the moor to their own territory.
“Thank you for your help,” Onestar muttered, every word an effort. “We need to step up our patrols,” he continued to Harespring as he and his deputy padded back to the hollow side by side. “Starting now, WindClan is on high alert.”
Over the next quarter moon, Onestar did everything he could think of to guard his camp. The border patrols were increased from two or three cats to five. The nursery and the elders’ den had a guard day and night. Apprentices were barely allowed to move without permission from their mentors. Onestar even ordered a warrior to accompany Kestrelflight if he needed to visit another Clan’s medicine cats, in case Darktail should ambush him on the way.
It’s going well, he thought, gazing around the camp with an inward purr of satisfaction. I know the Clan isn’t too keen about the changes, but sooner or later they’ll know it’s for the best.
Then Onestar noticed Fernpaw, Crowfeather’s apprentice, pushing her way through the gorse bushes at the top of the hollow, a mouse dangling from her jaws. She bounded down the slope to drop her prey on the fresh-kill pile.
Onestar padded up to her. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “Where’s your mentor?”
Fernpaw flinched at his harsh tone but answered him readily. “Crowfeather’s on a border patrol, Onestar. I’m not allowed to go with him.”
That was a rule Onestar had made, because of the danger from Darktail. “You’re not allowed out of camp without him, either,” he meowed. “So why did you think it was okay to go off hunting?”
“I didn’t, Onestar,” Fernpaw protested, her gray tabby pelt beginning to bristle up with indignation. “I spotted the mouse in the bushes. It seemed mouse-brained not to catch it. I only went a couple of paw steps out of the hollow.”
“And that was a couple of paw steps too many,” Onestar snapped. “Go and report to Kestrelflight and tell him I said you were to do the elders’ ticks until the next Gathering.”
Fernpaw stared at him, disbelief in her eyes, as if she thought that he might be joking. But Onestar saw nothing amusing about having his orders disobeyed. The silence between them stretched out until Fernpaw’s disbelief faded, giving way to shock.
Her head and tail drooped. “Okay, Onestar. I’m really sorry.” Her voice shook a little; Onestar gave her a curt nod, acknowledging that at least she was brave enough not to complain. She trudged off toward the medicine cat’s den.
Onestar turned away and noticed for the first time that Whitetail was standing a couple of tail-lengths from him, gazing at him with disapproval in her eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked plaintively. “Poor Fernpaw didn’t really do anything wrong. You’re making every cat miserable with all these extra rules.”
“I’m doing it for the good of our Clan,” Onestar responded. “I’m trying to keep us safe. There are rogues lurking about.”
“I know that,” Whitetail mewed. “But is there some reason you think WindClan is more at risk than any other Clan?”
Once again, Onestar wished that he could tell his mate the whole truth. But that’s just too difficult. “Their leader, Darktail, is a very dangerous cat,” he declared. “And his fellow rogues are no better. Look what they did to Furzepelt. And how Smokekit was taken away. . . .”
“Smokekit was fine,” Whitetail pointed out. “If it was Darktail who took her, and not a stoat, and he intends to destroy WindClan, why wouldn’t he have killed her?”
He just wanted to show me he could have, Onestar thought. He was sending me a message.
“I don’t pretend to know all the thoughts of an unstable cat,” he meowed aloud, shaking his head. “But I don’t intend to leave my Clan vulnerable to another attack. I’ll do what I feel is necessary, and if the rest of the Clan doesn’t like it, too bad.”
Whitetail sighed, seeming bemused by his concern, but she didn’t argue any further. And even though Onestar knew that his Clanmates felt stifled under the new restrictions, no other cat spoke out against him.
That night, Onestar fell into restless sleep. He saw once more Furzepelt’s body staggering toward him, the pain and questioning in her eyes; he relived his death, his brief journey into StarClan, and his return to his body. Above all, he heard Darktail’s parting words, repeated over and over.
This won’t be the last you see of us. Only, in Onestar’s dream, the last word turned into the hiss of a snake.
Onestar’s eyes flew open. He was in his own den, with Whitetail sleeping beside him, his heart pounding uncomfortably with the memory of his dream. Then through the darkness he was sure he could see two gleaming blue eyes watching him intently from the entrance to the den, and the white fur of a cat glowing in the moonlight.
He leaped to his paws, ready to confront the intruder, but within a heartbeat whatever he had seen had disappeared. He poked his head out of the den, but all he could see was the empty expanse of the camp, and the stars gazing down at him.
For a few moments, Onestar stood in the entrance, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. What is happening to me? he wondered. Was Darktail really here, or am I losing my mind?
“What’s wrong?” Onestar heard Whitetail calling out sleepily behind him. She stumbled to her paws and reached out to nuzzle his cheek with her nose.
“He’s here for me,” Onestar muttered grimly.
But Whitetail was too drowsy to hear what he said, and settled back into their nest.
For a little longer, Onestar stayed looking out across the camp. It was clear to him now that Darktail wouldn’t rest until he had his revenge.
From now on, I won’t rest either.
Chapter 26
Onestar sat on a branch of the Great Oak and gazed around at the cats clustered below him on the Gathering island. Bright moonlight shone on their fur and gleamed in their eyes, yet the leaders looked worried. Even though moments before the Clans had been cheering for new warriors, the mood in the clearing had become somber.
Rowanstar stepped forward to the end of his branch and surveyed the cats in the clearing gravely. “The rogues that attacked Onestar’s patrol are living on the edge of our territory, near the border with ThunderClan,” he announced.
At the ShadowClan leader’s announcement Onestar stiffened, as shocked exclamations rose from the cats below. ThunderClan helped us to drive them out, and now ShadowClan is letting them live on their territory?
“Why don’t you chase them off?” Brackenfur of ThunderClan called out.
Rising from a group of WindClan cats, Breezepelt showed his teeth. “They’re murderers!” he yowled.
Crowfeather, sitting beside his son, lifted his muzzle. “We should join forces and drive them away.”
