Emerging from the undergrowth, Hawkwing spotted the cat: a plump dark tabby tom, sitting on a tree stump at the edge of the wood, grooming his long glossy pelt. Hawkwing didn’t need to see the collar around his neck to recognize a kittypet.
I should have known, he thought. Is this territory so unfamiliar that I can’t even tell when I’m smelling kittypet scent?
“Greetings,” he meowed, approaching the kittypet and dipping his head politely. “Do you live around here?”
The kittypet looked up, mildly surprised. “You’re the second group I’ve seen today,” he mewed. “There are plenty of you, aren’t there?”
The second group? Hawkwing was briefly excited, until he realized that the kittypet must mean he’d seen one of the other patrols. Trying to keep irritation out of his voice, he repeated his question.
“Oh, no, my nest is a long way away, with my housefolk,” the kittypet replied with a vague wave of his tail. “My name’s Max. Who are you?”
“We are SkyClan,” Hawkwing replied proudly, introducing himself and the rest of his patrol.
“You’re a scruffy-looking bunch, if you ask me,” Max commented, looking the patrol up and down, then licking one forepaw and drawing it over his ear.
No cat did ask you, Hawkwing thought, beginning to feel annoyed.
“You would look scruffy too if you’d had to fight for your life and then traveled for days and days looking for a new home,” Macgyver snapped.
“Keep your fur on,” Max responded, not at all offended. “I know all about traveling. I stay out away from my housefolk all the time.” He riffled his whiskers. “It drives them crazy. But I always get a really good meal when I come home,” he finished, swiping his tongue around his jaws.
Macgyver flashed Hawkwing a glance, as if he was asking, Do we have to put up with this idiot?
“We’re looking for more cats,” Hawkwing began, determined to get as much information from Max as he could.
“Aren’t there enough of you already?”
The heat of anger roiled in Hawkwing’s belly, but he pushed it down. No, I will not claw his ears off. But oh, it’s tempting. . . .
“A specific group of cats,” Birdwing explained patiently, as if she guessed that Hawkwing was close to losing his temper. “They’re called ThunderClan. Their leader is—was, I suppose—a tom called Firestar, with a flame-colored pelt.”
Max yawned. “Never heard of them. In fact, there aren’t many cats around here. And none living by the lake.”
Hawkwing acknowledged his words with a brief nod. “Thank you for your help.”
“Any time.” Max went back to his grooming.
By now, Hawkwing could see that some of his Clanmates were gathering by the lake, and led his patrol to join them. They arrived at the same time as Leafstar and her group; the other patrols were already waiting.
“What do you think?” Blossomheart asked, bounding up to Hawkwing as soon as he reached the rest of the Clan. “Isn’t it great?”
“It seems okay.” Hawkwing still had his reservations, especially now that he was sure there were no other Clans here.
Leafstar called a Clan meeting, speaking from a rock at the water’s edge while her Clan sat around her. “This is the first place we’ve found where it seems possible to settle,” she began. “But we need to decide if it’s the right place. Let’s start by hearing from the patrols.”
Waspwhisker, Sparrowpelt, and Hawkwing all made their reports.
“There’s good hunting here,” Waspwhisker meowed. “And we didn’t spot many signs of predators. A fox here and there, maybe, but no trace of badgers.”
“And there are plenty of places we might make our camp,” Sparrowpelt added.
“We could do worse,” Waspwhisker summed up at last. “There doesn’t seem to be much danger, and the Twoleg nests are far enough away that the Twolegs won’t bother us.”
“But there aren’t any other cats,” Hawkwing objected. “If this is the place StarClan wanted us to find, then where is ThunderClan?”
“Well, maybe they—” Waspwhisker began.
He broke off as Echosong rose to her paws and came to stand beside the rock where Leafstar sat. “This is not the place where we’re supposed to be,” she announced.
Gasps of shock and protest came from the cats gathered around her.
“You mean we have to do more traveling?” Rabbitleap asked. “My paws are worn away already!”
“What’s wrong with it here?” Firefern mewed. “I don’t want to go on.”
“I can’t go on,” Plumwillow added. “Not until my kits are born—and that won’t be long now.”
“Plumwillow has a point,” Sparrowpelt agreed with a nod to the gray she-cat. “We should stay here, at least until she gives birth and her kits are old enough to travel. We have to stop somewhere for that, and this is a good place, near water, with plenty of prey. Echosong, we need a home!”
The medicine cat’s green eyes were full of distress, but she never wavered. “This is not the place StarClan showed me in my dreams,” she insisted. “If it was, ThunderClan and maybe the other Clans too would be here to greet us. Believe me, if we stay here, no good will come of it. It doesn’t feel right. I know Plumwillow would be better off having her kits while we’re traveling.”
Plumwillow gave a disdainful sniff. “You don’t have to carry them every paw step of the way,” she snapped, loud enough for Echosong to hear her.
“And we’re all exhausted,” Rabbitleap added, exchanging a doubtful look with Birdwing. “We’d have to have bees in our brains to leave a place as good as this.”
Hawkwing felt his irritation rising. Can’t they see that’s not the point? We’re not just looking for a new home, we’re trying to follow the will of StarClan. What about the prophecy?
In the midst of more rebellious muttering from his Clanmates, he rose to his paws. “I agree with Echosong,” he meowed. “This place feels wrong. It’s good, but ThunderClan isn’t here, so it can’t be what we’ve been looking for.”
“And what about my kits?” Plumwillow demanded.
Hawkwing gave her a warm glance. “You’re strong, Plumwillow. You’ll take good care of them, whatever happens.” Turning back to the rest of the Clan, he added, “We’ve followed StarClan this far. How can we start ignoring them now?”
And if we find the place where StarClan has been leading us, then maybe Pebbleshine and our kits will be there, too. They’ll find us there, somehow. . . .
Every cat looked at Leafstar, who paused for a long moment before speaking. “Plumwillow, what do you think?” she asked. “You’re the cat with the most to lose right now if we make the wrong decision.”
Plumwillow dipped her head. “I am tired,” she confessed. “And I think this is a good place to have my kits.”
Leafstar nodded, remaining silent for a moment more. “I think we should stay here, Echosong,” she mewed, “at least for a little while. Sparrowpelt and Plumwillow are right: This is a good place. I’m too tired and heartsick to go any further, and so are all of us. The entire Clan needs a rest.”
“But that isn’t right!” Echosong protested. “StarClan—”
“StarClan isn’t sending us any clear guidance,” Leafstar interrupted. “And we can’t keep chasing hunches, hoping that fortune will favor us. We have traveled so far, and we are weary—we must get some strength back, if we are to complete this quest.”
Murmurs of relief and approval followed the Clan leader’s words. Hawkwing couldn’t share his Clanmates’ feelings. He had hoped that when they reached the destination StarClan had in mind for them, he would be reunited with Pebbleshine—and now those hopes were dashed.
This is wrong . . . she’ll never find us here, I know it. Oh, StarClan, I’m trying to trust you that our destiny is still in front of us, that we haven’t made a terrible choice that will see the end of SkyClan.
But why must you test us this way?
CHAPTER 28
&nb
sp; Hawkwing crouched beside Pebbleshine in the milky warmth of the nursery. He was so full of joy that he thought it must burst out of him like a stream in greenleaf overflowing its banks.
His mate looked exhausted, but her eyes shone with love for the three new kits who lay snuggled against her belly, protected in the curve of her tail.
“They’re so beautiful . . . ,” Hawkwing whispered.
“The little gray tom looks just like you,” Pebbleshine murmured.
Hawkwing gazed down wonderingly at the fluffy gray fur of his son. “And the speckled white she-cat is just like you,” he added. “And the speckled gray tom . . . well, he’s like you and me.” He touched his nose to the tiny kit’s head. “It’s like seeing the best of us both combined into one cat.”
Pebbleshine let out a small mrrow of laughter.
A shadow fell across the entrance to the nursery and Cherrytail padded in, a mouse dangling from her jaws. “I thought you could do with some fresh-kill,” she meowed, dropping her prey beside Pebbleshine.
“And I brought some wet moss,” Cloudmist added, creeping softly in beside her mother, with Blossomheart just behind her. She blinked in wonder as she looked down at the kits. “They’re just perfect!”
Hawkwing spotted more movement at the nursery entrance and looked up to see his father, Sharpclaw, poking his head inside. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“We’re all fine, thanks,” Hawkwing replied.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Sharpclaw continued. “Hawkwing, you can take a day or two off from patrolling to be with Pebbleshine.”
“Thanks,” Hawkwing meowed.
“Just wait until their eyes open,” Sharpclaw gave a snort of amusement. “You’ll have your paws full then!” More seriously, he added, “I know you’ll be a good father, Hawkwing.”
Their visitors withdrew, leaving Hawkwing to curl up beside Pebbleshine, matching his rhythmic purr to hers. This is perfect . . . , he thought drowsily.
From somewhere outside the nursery, Hawkwing heard a harsh, repetitive sound. What can that be? he wondered, turning to look through the nursery entrance. Pebbleshine’s head was still bent over her kits. And why doesn’t she hear it?
SQUAAAAAAWWWWK!
Hawkwing jolted awake to the sound of a raucous screech coming from outside the warriors’ den. Normally the sound would have alarmed him, but he was so furious at being awoken from such a happy dream that he charged recklessly out into the open, searching for the source of the noise.
The screech came again from the direction of the lake. Hawkwing pounded through the trees until he reached the edge of the forest. In the pale light of dawn he spotted a brown-and-white bird swooping across the lake. A big, stupid water-bird.
Hawkwing watched as the bird dived down, dipped its talons under the surface, then rose into the sky again, gripping a wriggling silver fish.
A small part of Hawkwing’s mind was interested to watch a bird he had never seen before, but that was overwhelmed by the hatred he felt because it had broken into his dream.
Hawkwing let out a deep sigh. Stupid bird. Stupid lake. Stupid life. I know this isn’t the right place for us to stay.
SkyClan had been living beside the lake for a quarter moon, making their camp in the hollow Macgyver had discovered on the first day. Every cat had been busy, arranging the dens, exploring their new territory, and collecting herb stores, but none of the activity had lightened Hawkwing’s grim mood.
Now that he and his Clanmates were no longer traveling, he had time to confront the fact that he was still alive, even after losing his mate and everything they’d planned for their future. Misery engulfed him like a dark fog, and he had no idea how to find his way out of it.
I have my whole life ahead of me—but what can the future possibly hold that would ever make up for what I’ve lost?
Blossomheart appeared at Hawkwing’s side, looking still ruffled from sleep. “What on earth was that noise?” she asked with a yawn.
Hawkwing only grunted in reply, waving his tail at the stupid bird.
Blossomheart shrugged. “We never had to deal with that in the gorge,” she mewed.
Her words stung Hawkwing like a thorn in his pad. He knew that his sister wasn’t scolding him, but he could never forget that in a way he was responsible for SkyClan being driven from the gorge. If I’d never trusted Darktail . . . Or what would have happened if I’d stayed and tried to take revenge? I might have done that if I’d known that I’d lose Pebbleshine on this journey.
Hawkwing dragged himself away from his dark thoughts to realize that Blossomheart was speaking to him. “I’m sorry . . . what?”
His sister heaved a sigh. “I said, why don’t we take Bellaleaf and Curlypaw and go exploring on the other side of the lake? We haven’t hunted over there yet.”
“Yes, good idea,” Hawkwing responded, making an effort to be more positive. He wanted to be a good mentor to Curlypaw, but he knew he hadn’t spent enough time with her since he lost Pebbleshine, and even less since they arrived at the lake. “I’ll check with Waspwhisker, and if he doesn’t want us for a dawn patrol, we’ll go.”
There were fewer trees on the far side of the lake; the ground was covered with smooth grass that stretched as far as the row of small Twoleg dens.
“I don’t like it as much over here,” Blossomheart mewed, with a wary look at the dens. “The Twolegs are too close for comfort, and there’s not as much cover. I’m glad we settled on the other side.”
“Waspwhisker led a patrol over here yesterday,” Bellaleaf responded. “Rileypool went with him, and he told me all the Twoleg dens are abandoned. There’s not even the scent of Twolegs there.”
“Weird . . . ,” Hawkwing murmured. Why would Twolegs build dens here and then just go off and leave them? Then he shrugged. “It’s not as good for prey over here, either,” he added. “There aren’t as many places for them to hide. Still, we can get in some practice. Come on, Curlypaw, let’s see your stalking. Pretend Bellaleaf is a mouse.”
Bellaleaf crouched down in the grass. “Oh, I’m only a tiny little mouse,” she mewed in a squeaky voice. “Please don’t eat me!”
Curlypaw flattened herself against the ground and began to creep forward, one paw at a time.
“Oh, no—no,” Hawkwing interrupted before she had gone many paw steps. “You’re putting your paws down far too hard.”
His apprentice looked dejected, her head and tail drooping. “Sorry.”
“You have to remember that a mouse will feel your paw steps through the ground before it hears you,” Hawkwing told her. He couldn’t remember whether he had actually told her that before. It’s one of the first things an apprentice learns. . . . I’m not being a good mentor at all. Everything’s gone wrong since Pebbleshine disappeared.
“Try it again,” he told her.
Curlypaw gave him a nervous glance before flattening herself to the ground again. Hawkwing took a deep breath. He knew his frustration was coming out in his tone. But it’s not you I’m frustrated with, Curlypaw; it’s me.
This time, his apprentice’s stalking was perfect. She seemed to glide over the ground as if her paws were hardly touching it. “That’s much better,” Hawkwing meowed, trying to put some warmth into his voice. “Bellaleaf, you’re doomed!”
During the lesson, Blossomheart had been poking around among the reeds that fringed the lakeshore. Now she beckoned Hawkwing over with her tail.
“There are voles here,” she murmured when her brother padded up to her. “Shall we take some fresh-kill back for the Clan?”
Hawkwing peered into the reeds and spotted movement among the stems. “Good idea,” he responded, gesturing with his tail for Curlypaw and Bellaleaf to join them.
Spotting a vole, Hawkwing began to creep up on it, remembering what he had told Curlypaw about setting her paws down lightly. His prey was nibbling something, seeming quite unaware of danger.
Completely focused on the vole, Hawkwing was bu
nching his muscles for the final pounce when Curlypaw suddenly let out a loud caterwaul. The vole gave a start of terror, then scrambled to the water’s edge, jumped in, and swam away.
Furious, Hawkwing swung around. “Curlypaw, what—?”
He broke off as he heard the same raucous screech that had woken him from his dream. Looking up, he saw the brown water-bird above his head, diving straight down at Blossomheart. His belly lurched and his shoulder fur bristled at the sight of the creature’s powerful beak and claws.
With a challenging yowl, Hawkwing raced over to his sister. As the bird swooped over her, Blossomheart reared up on her hind legs and managed to swipe her claws over its eye. The bird let out another screech, raking its talons over Blossomheart’s shoulder.
Hawkwing leaped up and sank his claws into the bird’s shoulder, catching it off guard. As the huge head swung around toward him, glaring with a malignant yellow eye, Blossomheart got in a harder blow, digging her claws into the eye she had scratched.
At the same moment Bellaleaf leaped up from the other side, only to be swatted away by a flap of the bird’s wing. She hit the ground with a thump and lay there half stunned.
Screaming again, the bird began fighting valiantly to free itself from Hawkwing and Blossomheart, flailing with wings and claws and stabbing with its hooked beak. As they fell back, it rose unsteadily into the air and circled around a few tail-lengths above the ground.
At first Hawkwing thought that they had scared it off. Then with belly-churning dread he realized that it was swooping in for another attack, and this time its target was Curlypaw.
“No!” Hawkwing yowled.
He lunged toward Curlypaw, reaching her just as the bird gripped her with its talons and began flapping its wings to take off again. “Help!” she wailed, digging in her claws in an effort to cling to the ground. “Hawkwing, help me!”
Using all his strength, Hawkwing hurled himself upward and managed to snag his claws on the bird’s leg. The extra weight unbalanced it, so that it flopped back to the ground, and Hawkwing was able to sink his teeth into its back.