“Am I in StarClan?” Spottedpaw gasped. “But . . . how did I get here? Am I dead?”
“Of course you’re not dead,” grunted a black-and-white tom beside her. He turned toward Spottedpaw and she jumped when she realized that one half of his face was dreadfully scarred, with nothing but raw red skin where his eye used to be.
“Then why am I here?” Spottedpaw breathed.
The black-and-white cat shrugged. “Mapleshade brings cats here to train sometimes. Looks like she made a mistake with you, though.” He let out a terrible rasping sound, and Spottedpaw realized he was shaking with laughter.
“I . . . I didn’t imagine StarClan would be like this,” Spottedpaw admitted. But the black-and-white cat was watching Thistleclaw and Houndleap grapple each other again, and didn’t seem to hear.
In the clearing, Thistleclaw had pinned Houndleap down and was pummeling him with his front paws. To Spottedpaw’s dismay, the black cat didn’t even try to fight back. He lay there limply with blood trickling from one side of his mouth.
“Enough!” Mapleshade ordered. “Thistleclaw, you can fight Rushtooth next.” The tabby RiverClan cat stood up and dipped his head. Houndleap dragged himself to the edge of the clearing, not far from Spottedpaw. He needs comfrey, marigold, and cobwebs, she decided. Without waiting to ask Thistleclaw if she could leave, she whipped around and plunged into the bracken, mouth open to detect the scent of herbs.
Nothing. Not even a dock leaf. Spottedpaw cast about, running in a broad circle through the trees, searching for any sign of a stream where water-loving plants might grow, or a sandy bank that might catch the sun. The forest was the same everywhere: wilting ferns, mulchy grass, and those eerie glowing fungi. Spottedpaw ran back to the clearing, hoping she could do something with bracken to stanch the flow of blood, at least.
Houndleap was propped on his shoulder, licking the claw marks across his flank. In the clearing, Thistleclaw was thrashing on the ground with Rushtooth, more evenly matched in size and weight this time. Spottedpaw cast an anxious glance toward her Clanmate, checking that he wasn’t scattering too much blood, then trotted over to the little black cat.
“I’m so sorry!” she burst out. “I’ve looked for herbs but I can’t find any. I thought StarClan would have every kind of plant!”
Houndleap looked at her oddly. “StarClan? This is the Place of No Stars.”
Spottedpaw sat down with a thud. “What? But . . . but . . . what is Thistleclaw doing here?”
“Becoming a better warrior,” purred Thistleclaw, joining her. Blood dripped from a scratch on his shoulder and one of his ears was torn at the tip, but his chest was puffed out and his eyes glowed with victory. Behind him, Rushtooth crouched below the tree trunk while Mapleshade told him what a sorry disgrace he was.
Spottedpaw stared at her Clanmate. “You have brought me to the Dark Forest,” she whispered. “Cats are sent to this place because they are too evil to belong in StarClan. Why would you want to train here?”
Thistleclaw flicked one of his ears and a drop of blood struck Spottedpaw’s muzzle. “Cats might think something is evil just because it follows different rules,” he meowed. “You didn’t see anything evil here tonight, did you? Just courage, skill, and strength—more than you’ll ever see in one of your training sessions with Thrushpelt.”
“No cat would fight like that unless they meant to kill,” Spottedpaw protested. She could feel panic rising inside her. “That’s against the warrior code. And to me, yes—that is evil.”
She spun around and raced along the path, tripping and sliding on the muddy roots. She didn’t know where she was going; she just knew she had to get away from that terrible clearing and those bloodstained cats. Faster and faster she ran, until the trees around her blurred and shadows rose up to drag her down into the dank, foul-smelling earth. . . .
CHAPTER SIX
“Phew! Spottedpaw stinks!”
“Spottedpaw, wake up!” A paw prodded her in her side. “Where have you been? You’re covered in mud and you smell like the bottom of a marsh!”
With a jump, Spottedpaw opened her eyes. The memory of fleeing through the Dark Forest filled her mind, and she was half-afraid that she was only dreaming that she was back in her nest, while still trapped in that awful place.
Then Redpaw’s face appeared above her and she relaxed. “Did you go out last night? You need to clean yourself up before Thrushpelt sees you!”
Spottedpaw sat up. The moss in her nest squelched, and her belly fur was matted and filthy.
Willowpaw wrinkled her nose. “Did you fall in some fox dung? Be careful licking yourself clean. You might make yourself sick!”
Spottedpaw stood up and stretched, feeling her muscles ache as if she hadn’t slept at all. Had she really been running through the Dark Forest all night? Was that where Thistleclaw had suffered his battle wounds? She pushed past her littermates, wanting to find somewhere quiet in the forest to wipe her fur and try to forget about what she had seen.
“There you are!” Thrushpelt called as Spottedpaw pushed her way into the clearing. “Come on, Sunstar wants us to check the border by Fourtrees. The dawn patrol picked up some unfamiliar scent there, so we need to make sure we don’t have any unwanted visitors.” The sandy-gray warrior recoiled as Spottedpaw approached. “Great StarClan! What have you been doing? You’re filthy!”
“I was on my way to clean up,” Spottedpaw meowed.
“Good! Look, I don’t have time to wait for you. I’ll go with Adderfang instead and meet you after sunhigh for training.” To Spottedpaw’s relief, Thrushpelt didn’t wait to find out where she had been to get so dirty. He bounded over to Adderfang and the two warriors vanished through the gorse tunnel.
Spottedpaw followed more slowly, wincing as the stony path up the side of the ravine stung her paws. How far had she run last night? She felt as sore and exhausted as if she’d circled ThunderClan’s territory three times. As she reached the top, she heard a patrol approaching and ducked under some ferns to let them pass. The cats were laden with fresh-kill and Spottedpaw’s belly rumbled, reminding her that she needed to eat. The last cat in the patrol was Thistleclaw. Spottedpaw held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice her.
Too late. The gray-and-white warrior paused, sniffed, then put down his catch—a young squirrel—and padded back to Spottedpaw’s ferns. “Hey!” he whispered. “I know you’re in there.”
Spottedpaw stuck her head out. “I’m going to clean up,” she mewed. “My fur is still covered in mud.”
Thistleclaw nodded. “You’ll learn to wipe yourself off before you come back next time.” He glanced around. “Where’s Thrushpelt?”
“On patrol with Adderfang.” Spottedpaw’s heart beat faster, as it always did when she was close to Thistleclaw. But she couldn’t forget what she had seen last night. Why was he learning to fight from evil cats?
“So you’re on your own?” Thistleclaw meowed. “Great! That means you can come training with me!” The warrior’s eyes shone and Spottedpaw felt the whirl of questions fade inside her. I trust him, don’t I?
Thistleclaw started to pad back to his squirrel. “I promised I’d take Tigerpaw and Whitepaw for some training. Patchpelt has a bellyache after eating a mouse that had maggots in it.” He hissed. “What a bee-brain.”
“I . . . er . . . yes, I’ll come with you.” Spottedpaw felt dazed. Perhaps concentrating on training would clear her head.
After retrieving his catch, Thistleclaw bounded down to the camp to fetch Tigerpaw and Whitepaw. Spottedpaw stayed among the dewy ferns, wiping her flanks against the fronds and scraping her muddy paws on the grass. Even if her pelt wasn’t completely clean, she smelled green and forest-like instead of moldy and damp.
Tigerpaw scowled when she finally joined Thistleclaw and the apprentices at the top of the ravine. “What’s she doing with us? She’s only just become an apprentice!”
“It’ll do you good to have a different training partner,” Thistleclaw
meowed. He blinked warmly at Spottedpaw over Tigerpaw’s head. “Off you go! Last one to the sandy hollow has to do Weedwhisker’s ticks!”
Spottedpaw lunged forward with Tigerpaw and Whitepaw, feeling their flanks press against hers as they raced down the narrow path. Tigerpaw pulled ahead, his long legs and broad shoulders eating up the ground. Spottedpaw and Whitepaw hurtled neck and neck toward the golden patch of sand, until Spottedpaw stumbled on a bramble and Whitepaw leaped into the hollow with a yowl of delight.
“Ha! You’re on tick duty!” the white apprentice declared.
Panting, Spottedpaw trotted onto the sand. She was too winded to speak. Thistleclaw bounded up a moment later. “You all did well,” he meowed. “Especially Spottedpaw, since she’s younger than you two!”
Whitepaw rested his tail on Spottedpaw’s shoulder. “Yes, you were much faster than I expected. Well done!”
Tigerpaw just glowered. “I told you she shouldn’t be training with us.”
Thistleclaw ignored him. “I want some one-on-one battle practice today, using everything I’ve taught you. Whitepaw, I’m sure Patchpelt has shown you the same moves. Spottedpaw, you can fight whoever wins this bout.”
“This is going to be so easy,” Tigerpaw gloated, striding into the center of the hollow.
“Don’t be so sure,” growled Whitepaw. He bunched his hindquarters under him and leaped at the dark brown apprentice. Tigerpaw lost his grip on the slippery sand and Whitepaw managed to force him onto his side.
“Come on, Tigerpaw, you can’t let him win that quickly!” Thistleclaw urged.
Tigerpaw responded by shoving Whitepaw backward and pummeling him with his front paws. As Whitepaw scrabbled to find his footing, sand flew up and hit Tigerpaw.
“Ow! My eye!” he screeched, stepping away from Whitepaw and rubbing his face with one paw. “I can’t see!”
“Don’t scratch it, you’ll make it worse,” Thistleclaw told him. “Try blinking it out.”
“Does that mean I won?” asked Whitepaw. His coat was dusted with sand all the way to the ends of his whiskers, and his tail was fluffed out like a hedgehog.
Thistleclaw nodded. “All right, Spottedpaw. Show us what you can do.”
Tigerpaw groused his way to the edge of the hollow and sat down, dramatically holding one paw over his closed eye. Spottedpaw faced Whitepaw, feeling the fur bristle along her spine. She had fought her littermates in mock battles before, but never an apprentice so close to becoming a warrior!
Whitepaw gave a tiny nod to reassure her, and Thistleclaw hissed, “Don’t make it easy for her! Treat her as you would any opponent!”
In a spatter of sand, Whitepaw launched himself at Spottedpaw, and she felt her paws sink deeper under the weight of him. She tried to wriggle free but she just became more stuck. Instead, she dropped to her belly, sending Whitepaw rolling away with an oof of surprise. As soon as the weight lifted from her shoulders, Spottedpaw pulled her legs free from the sand and spun around to leap onto the white apprentice. She took him by surprise and felt a thrill as he blinked in alarm and tried to scrabble away.
In a flash Thistleclaw was beside her, whispering encouragement. “Come on, Spottedpaw! You’ve got him now! Aim for his eyes, remember?”
Spottedpaw froze. She pictured Thistleclaw slashing at Houndleap’s face, forcing the black cat to cower down in submission. I could never fight like that! Spottedpaw lunged sideways and let her front paws fall onto the sand with a thud.
“What are you doing?” screeched Thistleclaw. “Why have you stopped? You were about to win!”
Spottedpaw spun around and ran out of the hollow. Ferns lashed her muzzle and thorns clawed at her sides but she didn’t stop running until she burst out on the bank of the river. The only sounds were the buzz of flies and the ragged sound of her breathing. She crunched down the stony shore and stared into the swift-flowing water. A dark tortoiseshell face stared back at her, with white-tipped ears and huge, startled eyes.
She was going to be a warrior: that meant she would always be ready to fight for her Clan. But that didn’t mean she had to relish the feeling of claw against flesh, or try to prove her strength against her own Clanmates, or enjoy the thrill of battle the way that Tigerpaw and Thistleclaw seemed to. What I have to do is talk to Thistleclaw about the Dark Forest.
After rinsing her paws in the shallowest part of the river to clean away the last trace of Dark Forest scent, Spottedpaw pushed her way back into the undergrowth. She trotted down the ravine and marched over to Thistleclaw, who was talking to some warriors below Highrock.
He blinked at her in surprise when she appeared. “Spottedpaw, are you okay? I thought you might be hurt, the way you rushed off like that.”
Thrushpelt narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? You told me you’d taken her for a training session with Whitepaw and Tigerpaw. I trusted you to watch out for her.”
Spottedpaw ignored him. “We need to talk, Thistleclaw.”
“That sounds like an order!” Thistleclaw joked, glancing at the other warriors, who purred with amusement.
Spottedpaw didn’t say a word, just trotted back across the clearing and headed up the ravine.
“What’s this about?” Thistleclaw called, leaping after her. “You were brilliant against Whitepaw—before you ran off. You obviously learned a lot last night.”
Spottedpaw stopped dead and spun to face him. “I learned that I don’t enjoy fighting for its own sake! It’s the Dark Forest, Thistleclaw! Why do you have to go there to train?”
Thistleclaw twitched the tip of his tail. “We can’t talk here.” He led her to a dense patch of brambles, and forced his way into the center, where gnarled branches as thick as a cat’s tail had created an open space. Thistleclaw sat down, wincing slightly as he tucked his hind legs under him.
“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” Spottedpaw mewed. “Just like when your ear was clawed. Can’t you see that those cats are dangerous?” Her mind filled with the image of Mapleshade crouched on the fallen tree, screeching at the warriors to fight harder, use their teeth, draw more blood.
“Not to me!” Thistleclaw’s voice was low and passionate. “They’re making me into the best warrior ThunderClan has ever known!”
“If you must be taught by dead cats, why not StarClan?” Spottedpaw begged. “At least they lived by the warrior code. The cats you fought last night have all done something evil. That’s why they’re in the Place of No Stars.”
“But that doesn’t mean I will be evil too! We are more than those who teach us, Spottedpaw. I want to learn everything I can from once-great warriors, but I am still responsible for making my own decisions. Do you doubt me that much?”
His eyes were hopeful, pleading, and Spottedpaw felt her pelt begin to lie flat. “No, I don’t doubt you. But that doesn’t mean I agree with your training in the Dark Forest.”
“I’m not asking for your agreement,” Thistleclaw meowed. “This is a part of who I am. I thought you would understand why I’m doing this. I just want to keep my Clan safe—to keep you safe. I would do anything for you, Spottedpaw.”
Spottedpaw stared at him, her mind whirling. How can I argue with that? I love you as much as you love me.
Please don’t let me down.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Spottedpaw woke early from dreams filled with flashes of gray-and-white fur, Thistleclaw’s sweet scent, and threatening shadows that loomed from the undergrowth. She stood up and tiptoed out of the den.
Outside, the sky was soft and milky like the underside of a dove’s wing. Dew laced the grass, and Spottedpaw left neat wet footprints as she padded across the clearing. She could just make out the golden tabby shape of Lionheart sitting on the other side of the gorse, guarding the sleeping Clan.
“You’re up early,” commented Featherwhisker, stepping out of the ferns. He tipped his head to one side and studied her with his bright amber gaze. “Is something wrong, Spottedpaw?”
Spottedpaw looked down at her
toes, studded with shining droplets of dew. There was no way she could tell him about Thistleclaw visiting the Dark Forest. That would bring all kinds of trouble, and after all, Thistleclaw hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? For a moment Spottedpaw recalled Goosefeather’s strange comment that she loved blindly and had a foolish heart. Was this what the old cat had been talking about?
“Spottedpaw, what is it?” Featherwhisker padded over and rested the tip of his tail on Spottedpaw’s flank. “Are you sick?”
Spottedpaw shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I . . . I had some strange dreams, that’s all.”
“I heard that you ran off from battle training yesterday,” Featherwhisker commented gently. “Tigerpaw gets too rough sometimes. He needs to remember to keep his claws sheathed when fighting his Clanmates.”
“But we won’t always be fighting our Clanmates, will we?” Spottedpaw argued. “One day I’ll be fighting a real enemy, and I’ll have to use my claws and my teeth and everything I’ve learned just to survive. . . .”
Featherwhisker looked concerned. “Warriors face many challenges, but the warrior code protects them, Spottedpaw. No cat should ever be killed, even in the heat of battle. We fight to defend our borders, not maim the cats on the other side.”
“Some cats seem to enjoy fighting, whoever their opponent is,” Spottedpaw mewed quietly.
“Battles are only a very small part of our lives,” Featherwhisker went on. “A true warrior has more love in her heart than hatred. Love for her Clanmates, for the forest that shelters her, for the prey that feeds us all.”
The brambles around the warriors’ den rustled, and cats started gathering beneath the Highledge. Tawnyspots walked among them, choosing cats for the dawn patrol. Spottedpaw blinked in alarm as Stormtail emerged from the brambles. The warrior had lost weight, and he looked unsteady on his paws. The first thing he did was walk over to the heap of soaked moss outside the elders’ den and drink deeply, as if he had not seen water for a moon.