Note: Read River of Ice first! Path of Shadows is the sequel!
|Preceded by:||Path of Shadows||Succeeded by:
Petalpaw and her friends have embarked on the perilous journey to find MoonClan and bring them home. Along the way, they meet new cats, both friendly and unfriendly. And although most danger comes from outside the group, there is trouble brewing within the four cats that may prove to be deadlier than anything they've ever faced before. Trust is their guiding light on a path of shadows, but if that is lost, how can MoonClan possibly return safely to their home?
Leader: Ravenstar - short-haired black tom with a silver tail-tip; amber eyes
Deputy: Nightfern - black tom with a white splash on chest; green eyes
Medicine cat: Roseheart - tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes
Silvershade - silver tabby she-cat with green eyes
Stonegaze - dark gray tom with blue eyes
Antpelt - black tom with amber eyes
Robinbreeze - brown she-cat with amber eyes
Cinderfall - speckled gray she-cat with green eyes
Mistpool - pale gray she-cat with blue eyes
Pinefur - reddish-brown tom with green eyes
Needlewhisker - black tom with unusually long whiskers; green eyes
Palecloud - white she-cat with blue eyes
Lightheart - pale yellow she-cat with amber eyes
Marshleaf - diluted tortoiseshell she-cat with yellow eyes
Mudleg - pale ginger tom with darker paws
Badgerscar - heavily scarred black-and-white tom with green eyes
Smokesight - dark gray she-cat with blue eyes
Pebblerain - spotted silver tabby tom with blue eyes
Quailsong - gray tabby tom with blue eyes
Owlgaze - golden tabby she-cat with amber eyes
Blizzardpaw - white she-cat with yellow eyes
Ashpaw - gray tabby tom with blue eyes
Sagepaw - light brown tabby tom with amber eyes
Lakepaw - black she-cat with two white paws and blue eyes
Darkpaw - black she-cat with green eyes
Icepaw - silver tabby tom with green eyes
Shadowleaf - black tabby she-cat with green eyes
Frostflower - white she-cat with blue eyes (mother to Jaykit, a gray tom-kit; and Snowkit, a white tom-kit with black ears
Streamsong - dark brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes
Silentrunner - black tom with green eyes
Dawnheart - orange tabby she-cat with amber eyes
Leader: Amberstar - dark ginger tom with amber eyes
Deputy: Lionstrike - golden she-cat with green eyes
Medicine cat: Berryleaf - mottled brown tom with blue eyes
Sparkheart - pale ginger she-cat with green eyes
Leopardspots - spotted golden she-cat with amber eyes
Appleshine - russet she-cat with green eyes
Foxfang - red tom with amber eyes
Yellowfur - yellow tom with green eyes
Fogheart - gray tom with blue eyes
Skyleap - white she-cat with blue eyes
Myrtlenose - tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes
Sagebreeze - gray she-cat with green eyes
Adderstrike - dappled golden tom with amber eyes
Spottedpelt - spotted gray tom with sky-blue eyes
Shimmerfall - silver she-cat with blue eyes
Gingerbreeze - orange tabby tom with green eyes
Flowerblaze - gray-and-white she-cat with amber eyes
Sandfall - very pale ginger tabby she-cat with green eyes
Sootcloud - gray tom with blue eyes
Orangedawn - calico she-cat with green eyes
Flamepaw - orange tabby tom with green eyes
Brightpaw - calico she-cat with blue eyes
Firepaw - russet tom with amber eyes
Scorchpaw - brown tabby tom with amber eyes
Blackpaw - gray she-cat with black paws, ears, and tail-tip; green eyes
Dapplewing - tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes (mother to Mousekit, a brown tom-kit; Emberkit, a pale ginger tom-kit; Grasskit, a light brown she-kit; and Shrewkit, a dark brown she-kit)
Nettlefang - gray tabby she-cat with amber eyes
Goldengaze - yellow tabby tom with amber eyes
Leader: Briarstar - tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes
Deputy: Mapleblaze - pale brown she-cat with yellow eyes
Medicine cat: Thornstrike - brown tabby she-cat with green eyes
Thistleheart - golden she-cat with green eyes
Oakfall - reddish-brown tom with green eyes
Aspenleaf - ginger-and-white she-cat with amber eyes
Mossfur - black she-cat with one white paw and gray eyes
Fernpool - speckled gray she-cat with green eyes
Brackentail - brown tabby tom with blue eyes
Graytail - gray tabby tom with sky-blue eyes
Daisynose - white she-cat with yellow eyes
Elmwhisper - tall, light brown tabby tom with amber eyes
Cricketleap - gray-brown tabby she-cat with yellow eyes
Cedarheart - tawny she-cat with amber eyes
Acornwhisker - light brown tom with amber eyes
Cherryfur - reddish tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes
Juniperleaf - black tom with green eyes
Birchdapple - silver tabby tom with white paws and tail-tip; green eyes
Ivyshade - dappled gray she-cat with blue eyes
Poppyspring - tortoiseshell she-cat with hazel eyes
Thrushfeather - pale ginger tom with green eyes
Blossompaw - dappled gray she-cat with white chest and paws; green eyes
Smallpaw - small black tom with blue eyes
Tansypaw - light gray she-cat with green eyes
Laurelheart - golden tabby she-cat with green eyes (mother to Beechkit, a light brown tom-kit; Rootkit, a dark brown tom-kit; Adderkit, a golden she-kit; Hollykit, a black she-kit; and Lilykit, a pale gray she-kit)
Browndapple - mottled brown she-cat with a graying muzzle and milky amber eyes
Mothfur - very pale dusty ginger she-cat with a white tail-tip and green eyes
Sapstream - yellow tom with amber eyes
Leader: Rainstar - gray tabby she-cat with blue eyes
Deputy: Batwing - dark brown she-cat with amber eyes
Stormwatcher - gray tabby tom with blue eyes
Hawktail - mottled brown she-cat with a russet tail and green eyes
Hailshadow - silver tabby tom with blue eyes
Wrenflight - light brown tabby she-cat with a white chest; amber eyes
Gorsewind - gray tom with amber eyes
Hareleap - brown tom with green eyes
Flickerwing - dark calico she-cat with amber eyes
Doveheart - pale gray she-cat with blue eyes
Falconclaw - dark gray tabby tom with yellow eyes
Quietbreeze - black she-cat with green eyes
Sparrowleap - brown tabby tom with amber eyes
Haytail - yellow she-cat with green eyes
Curlear - gray tom with blue eyes and unusually curled eartips
Beecloud - pale ginger she-cat with very dark ginger stripes and paws; amber eyes
Rabbitstep - gray-brown tabby tom with green eyes
Tanglespirit - long-haired pale brown tabby she-cat with white paws and matted fur; amber eyes
Wolfblaze - gray she-cat with blue eyes
Duckwing - yellow tom with a darker muzzle, ears, paws, and blue eyes
Eaglepaw - ginger-and-white tom with yellow eyes
Heatherpaw - pale gray she-cat with green eyes
Breezepaw - dark brown she-cat with blue eyes
Ryepaw - brown tabby tom with yellow eyes
Starlingpaw - black tom with green eyes
Lizardpaw - very pale brown tabby she-cat with a short, thin tail and amber eyes
Flintpaw - dark gray tabby tom with blue eyes
Wildpaw - black tabby tom with blue eyes
Honeypool - dappled tortoiseshell she-cat with a golden tail-tip and amber eyes (mother to Birdkit, a brown she-kit; Weaselkit, a spotted gray tabby tom-kit; and Waspkit, a black tom-kit with two white paws)
Sheepfur - white she-cat with yellow eyes
Dark silhouettes skulked around the starlit clearing, circling a still black pool. Chunks of wood bobbed in the water, and one of the cats hissed disapprovingly as they nudged one aside.
“What happened?” a shrill female voice demanded.
The tom who’d been examining the shards of bark looked up to find a skinny she-cat towering above him, her eyes glinting and fur bristling like brambles. He edged backward, trying to put space between himself and the angry cat. “I -- I don’t know, Lionstrike,” he stammered, cowering at her paws. “I -- I -- ”
The she-cat, Lionstrike, snorted and whipped around, slashing her tail across the tom’s face as she did so. He gave a muffled whimper, but she didn’t seem to hear. “Amberstar!” Lionstrike barked, striding up to a large, unmoving figure sitting at the edge of the black lake. “None of these mouse-brains can figure out what happened!”
The massive cat still didn’t move a muscle. His glittering amber eyes stared into the fathomless depths of the black pool. “What can you infer from this scene?” he asked quietly. Tension shivered in the air, as though one false move would provoke the great tom.
Lionstrike seemed to sense it, for her next words were cautious and appeared to be chosen very deliberately. “Well… I believe that a log was carried downstream,” she began. “It slid off the edge and was wedged between the rocks, cutting through the waterfall and scattering wood everywhere.”
Amberstar’s voice held a shard of annoyance now. “I didn’t ask you what you saw,” he meowed in a soft, yet deadly voice. “I asked you what caused it.”
From the small tom’s view of the scene, he could see Lionstrike’s fur rising uncomfortably as she ducked her head. “That I can’t be sure of,” she mumbled. “Perhaps the recent rains dislodged it -- ”
“Enough,” Amberstar said coldly, slowly turning his broad head to face Lionstrike. The small tom felt fear shrill through every hair on his pelt as his leader’s menacing amber eyes flashed through the shadows. “Get Fogheart, now.”
“Yes, Amberstar,” Lionstrike murmured. Obediently, the thin she-cat crossed the pebbly beach to meet another cat. She flicked her tail once, and the cat followed, his pawsteps wavering a little, as she led him back to Amberstar.
“Ah, Fogheart,” Amberstar growled, casually unsheathing his claws so that they gleamed cruelly in the moonlight. “Perhaps you will succeed where Lionstrike failed.”
Lionstrike bowed her head in shame at his words. “I am gravely sorry for disappointing my leader,” she whispered solemnly.
Fogheart swallowed. “What would you like me to do?”
Amberstar’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the nervous tom. “Tell me, did you notice anything… odd about what happened to the Starlake?”
Fogheart hesitated. “I did scent something…” he admitted, shifting his paws. “It was difficult to detect, as the water had nearly washed it away, but it was there all the same. LeafClan scent, and… MoonClan.”
“That’s impossible!” Lionstrike blurted. “Every MoonClan cat was chased out!”
Amberstar alone looked calm. “Not every cat,” he murmured. “One was left behind.” He lifted his chin and gazed at the stars, but there was a noticeable lack of wonder in his eyes; instead, the small tom could see only disdain in their amber depths. “Petalkit of MoonClan -- now Petalpaw -- was left for dead.”
Lionstrike and Fogheart both shifted, clearly uneasy.
“But she lived,” Amberstar continued, and although his voice was quiet, it rang through the silent forest like a command. “And LeafClan is sheltering her, as we saw at the Gathering. And we know that LeafClan wants MoonClan to return…” Amberstar’s expression hardened. “They are going to find MoonClan.”
“No!” Lionstrike gasped.
“Yes,” Amberstar replied, and Lionstrike fell silent. His amber eyes blazed like fire, and the emotion within them scared the small tom more than the leader’s rage: it was triumph. “But MoonClan will never come home. It is our land now.”
“How can you be sure?” Fogheart asked in a small voice. The tom was surprised that Fogheart had dared to question their leader; no cat defied Amberstar.
But instead of slashing the gray tom’s throat, Amberstar merely purred. It was a sinister noise that made the fur on the small tom’s neck stand up. “Don’t worry,” Amberstar meowed. “The plan is in place. No MoonClan cat will ever come back here, and if they do, they will not survive.”
“But can you be sure that the -- the plan will succeed?” Fogheart asked.
A snakelike smile unfurled on Amberstar’s face, and the small tom shivered as the leader’s sharp teeth glistened in the moonlight. “We have nothing to fear,” he purred, lifting his cold amber gaze to the stars that he no longer cared for. “The cat I have chosen will be a very valuable pawn.”
Graytail’s eyes narrowed. “Petalpaw, I thought you were going to collect more traveling herbs.” It was not a question.
Petalpaw glanced nervously at the brown tabby tom beside her. His amber eyes were unreadable, and the mouse in his jaws prevented him from speaking. Petalpaw gave an annoyed twitch of her ears; she was hoping she wouldn’t have to respond, that some cat would stand up for her!
Graytail was still waiting for an answer, his blue eyes rather stormy.
Petalpaw sighed. “I’m sorry, Graytail,” she muttered. “I was just hunting…”
Graytail snorted. “Yes, when I had directly told you not to hunt, and to focus on gathering traveling herbs! They’ll help us more than a mouse.”
Petalpaw tried not to look at the mouse in Scorchpaw’s jaws. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, this time more forcefully. “I don’t know about herbs. Windpaw does, why don’t you send him?”
“Hey, don’t drag me into another one of your stupid arguments!” Windpaw whined from his comfortable position in a patch of shade below a gorse bush.
Petalpaw glared at him, but she had to agree that he was right. The patrol had been arguing ever since they started moving again, and it was exhausting to deal with. Things escalated so quickly that it was difficult to find and correct one’s mistake before every other cat got angry. Each quarrel was followed by an uneasy truce, where the group padded along in a tense silence, waiting for the insults to fly again.
She hated to admit it, but she herself was often the source.
And poor Windpaw always got caught in the crossfire.
That’s not true! she fumed silently. Graytail is the source, he always argues with everything I do…
It was true, the normally easy-going LeafClan tom had seemed unpredictable lately, and whenever Petalpaw put so much as a whisker out of line he’d fly into a rage. But Petalpaw couldn’t help it! Her quiet dislike of following another cat on her mission had grown into a seething anger bubbling right below the surface, flaring up and sparking quarrels. Okay, she had undermined his leadership from time to time. Yes, she had sometimes resisted his orders.
But MoonClan is my Clan, and I deserve to lead the patrol.
“Petalpaw, I want you to go and gather the traveling herbs like I asked,” Graytail ordered with an irritable flick of his tail. “Scorchpaw, you stay here and clean out the bedding.”
Scorchpaw dropped his mouse with a small thud. “But we’re leaving tomorrow, I don’t see the point of -- ” he started to protest, but Graytail silenced him with a hard look.
“Just clean the bedding,” the gray warrior growled, whipping around and stalking back to Windpaw. “Windpaw, you can go with Petalpaw.”
Windpaw stared in dismay at Graytail. “But I -- ”
“Like Petalpaw says, you know the herbs better than any cat,” Graytail meowed sharply. “She may need help. Go.”
Petalpaw’s ears flattened. “I don’t need help picking a pawful of leaves,” she snarled.
Graytail turned to face her, his blue eyes wide in mock-surprise. “Oh, really?” he asked in a falsely cheery voice. “I thought you said you didn’t know about herbs?”
Petalpaw closed her eyes briefly, trying to refrain from leaping at Graytail and scratching him across the muzzle. Frustration seethed under her pelt when she realized that she had no defense. She lashed her tail once and hissed, “Come on, Windpaw. Let’s go pick some leaves.” She brushed past Scorchpaw, the only cat who still seemed happy to have her around. “I’ll come hunting with you later.”
Graytail’s eyes were furious blue slivers as he watched Windpaw and Petalpaw stalk out of the makeshift camp.
* * * * *
“So,” Windpaw meowed, breaking the awkward silence, “you and Graytail… arguing again, eh?”
Petalpaw’s fur rose as she was reminded of the gray tabby LeafClan tom. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay then,” Windpaw mumbled, bending over to tear a few leafy stalks from the ground with his teeth.
Petalpaw huffed. “It’s just that… I’m the MoonClan cat here, you know? So it should be me leading the way. Who cares if I’m just an apprentice? I deserve to bring the patrol to my kin myself. I can’t be spotted trailing in the back like a kit when we finally get back to MoonClan!”
“You really care a lot about what they think, don’t you?” Windpaw commented, nibbling through another plant stem.
Petalpaw lashed her tail, scattering the traveling herbs everywhere. “First impressions are everything.”
“It’s not a first impression,” Windpaw pointed out. “This is your family.”
Petalpaw sighed. “You’re right.” The words felt odd on her tongue; it had been a long time since she’d said them aloud to any cat. “But I just… I want… no, it’s stupid.”
Windpaw lifted his head and stared evenly into her eyes, his blue eyes calm. “Not everything you think is mouse-brained. Try me.”
Petalpaw glanced away, feeling hot under her pelt at his watchful gaze. “I just… I want to be seen by my Clan… as brave. Like I was fine on my own, and I’ve returned to… to save them all.” She refused to meet Windpaw’s eyes, speaking instead to his paws. “I know, it’s stupid -- ”
“It’s not stupid,” Windpaw interrupted her. Startled, Petalpaw looked up at him. A small smile crossed his face. “We all like to be seen as a hero, at least once in our lives.”
“Yeah,” Petalpaw agreed, feeling encouraged by his assurance.
He sighed. “I’d like to be seen like that someday.”
There was an uncomfortable heartbeat of silence.
“If you don’t know, that’s the part where you say, You’re a hero to me, Windpaw!” Windpaw explained, putting on a terrible impression of her voice.
Petalpaw gave a mrrow of amusement. “All right, all right,” she groaned dramatically, “I guess you win. You’re a hero, Windpaw.” Heat crept into her cheeks as the words rolled off her tongue, and she wished she could suck them back in. “Oh, StarClan, I sounded like such a mouse-brain.” Mortified but giggling, she buried her face in her forepaws.
“I was just joking!” Windpaw exclaimed. “You didn’t have to say that!” He shot her a sideways glance full of mischief. “Unless you actually meant it…”
“No, no!” Petalpaw meowed hastily, and Windpaw laughed.
“It’s good to have a friend like you,” Windpaw sighed, picking up the traveling herbs.
Petalpaw glanced at him. “Yeah… it really is.”
* * * * *
“Good, you got the herbs,” Graytail snapped, rushing up to them and taking the bundle of leaves from Windpaw’s jaws. “This should take the edge off our hunger for a while.” He set the herbs down and began feverishly separating them into even piles. “Scorchpaw!” he barked, and Scorchpaw gave a little jump.
“Y-yes?” he stammered, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.
“Come help me sort these herbs, will you?”
A look of dismay flashed across Scorchpaw’s face, and the brown tabby protested, “But -- but I’m going hunting with Petalpaw!”
Graytail shot Petalpaw a sharp look full of annoyance that she didn’t understand. “Not anymore, you’re not.”
Scorchpaw opened his jaws to argue, then realized what a lost cause it was and clamped them shut again. With an apologetic glance at Petalpaw, he trudged over to Graytail, sat down beside the LeafClan cat, and started dividing up the herbs.
Petalpaw narrowed her eyes at Graytail. Where had all his respect for Scorchpaw gone? After the battle with SunClan, every cat had seemed to trust the tabby apprentice. But now, for some reason, all of that was irrelevant.
She shot a questioning look at Windpaw, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. Petalpaw growled softly. Not helpful! Annoyed with the whole situation, Petalpaw stalked into the forest, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going to hunt. I’ll be back before nightfall.”
* * * * *
“Ready to begin the journey?” Windpaw asked, bouncing from paw to paw in excitement.
“Sure,” Petalpaw meowed flatly. She glared at Graytail, savagely wishing that he could see the anger seething in her eyes. The gray tabby tom lifted his muzzle and pointedly looked away, ignoring her.
“Who made dirt in your fresh-kill?” Windpaw demanded, the enthusiasm on his face vanishing as his energy level screeched to a stop. “We’re on our way to find MoonClan, you should be dancing around and yowling to the treetops!”
Petalpaw exhaled harshly through her nose, struggling to tamp down her rising frustration. “Sorry,” she forced out. “I just -- Graytail.”
Windpaw rolled his eyes. “You can’t blame him for every problem you have.”
“But he is the problem!” Petalpaw hissed, glancing furtively at the LeafClan cat to make sure he wasn’t listening. His blue eyes were locked on Scorchpaw -- she was safe for now. “He’s being so weird, not like himself… what do you think caused it?” A hint of unease crept into her voice at those words. “Whenever he’s around Scorchpaw, he gets all bossy…”
Windpaw looked away uncomfortably. She could see a glint of unwilling knowledge in his eyes, and immediately confronted him. “You know something!” she exclaimed. “You know what happened! Tell me!” She was hungry for a reason to explain Graytail’s behavior.
He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he meowed evasively, his voice taking on a dull tone.
Petalpaw wasn’t fooled. It was impossible to imagine a stupid Windpaw… unless Aspenpaw was present. But she wasn’t here, and Petalpaw knew that Windpaw was hiding something. “Come on, tell me!” she wheedled. “Please?” She widened her eyes, trying to portray kitlike innocence.
Windpaw snorted. “No. I seriously don’t know, okay?”
“Liar!” Petalpaw growled. “Does it have anything to do with Scorchpaw?”
“What does that mean?” Petalpaw demanded. “Nyuh? That’s not even a word! Give me an answer!” She was a whisker away from leaping at Windpaw and shaking his shoulders until the words fell out of his mouth.
Windpaw shrugged. “Let’s just get going. We have a lot of ground to cover.” He padded ahead to join Graytail at the front of the patrol, leaving Petalpaw, alone and fuming, at the back.
Fine, she thought annoyedly. I’ll just figure it out myself.
“Hey,” a voice mewed. Petalpaw jerked her head up to see Scorchpaw trotting over to her, his sleek brown coat gleaming in the sunlight. “I finally got away from Graydirt over there… he’s been having me do errands all morning.”
Petalpaw sighed. “Graytail has been acting strange recently, it’s not your fault.” Is it?
“Petalpaw, you know that’s not true,” Scorchpaw muttered. “Graytail doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t like having me here.”
“Yeah…” But Petalpaw felt like there was something more to the equation. Another reason, something so crucial that it completely changed the LeafClan warrior’s behavior toward Scorchpaw. “Did you… do anything?”
“No,” Scorchpaw replied. “I just… existed. He hates my guts.” He looked forlornly at the ground. “It doesn’t matter, I’m used to it.”
Petalpaw felt a pang of pity for the lonely SunClan tom, and she rested her tail on his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it. Graytail should trust you… he’s just a mouse-brain.”
Scorchpaw purred with amusement. “Truer words were never spoken.”
Just then, Graytail’s ears pricked, and he whipped around to face the chatting pair. Anger flared on his face and he yowled, “Scorchpaw, what are you doing, talking your head off with Petalpaw? I told you to come to the front and help track MoonClan!”
Scorchpaw frowned. “I don’t think you told me that…” he began, but Graytail cut him off.
“But,” Petalpaw intervened, “why can’t I help track MoonClan? I know the scent well; they’re my kin, after all.”
Scorchpaw brightened. “Yeah! Petalpaw and I can both help!”
Petalpaw’s heart rose. Surely Graytail could see the logic in that? Plus, she’d get to talk to Scorchpaw, who she’d hardly had a chance to speak with after the SunClan battle.
“No,” Graytail decided, and Petalpaw’s hope deflated.
“No?” she echoed. “Why not?”
“Because… because we need Scorchpaw to bring up the rear!” Graytail declared with a swish of his striped tail. “A strong fighter should guard us from behind, and since Petalpaw can recognize MoonClan better than any of us, she’ll go in front.”
“Are you saying that I’m not a strong fighter?” Petalpaw demanded.
“No, no,” Graytail amended hurriedly. “I’m just…” He huffed out a heavy breath. “Anyway, let’s go!” He whirled around and started marching forward rapidly, so that Petalpaw and Scorchpaw had to scurry to catch up.
“What in StarClan?” Scorchpaw muttered.
“I know,” Petalpaw panted. “He’s so -- weird -- today -- ”
“Petalpaw, come up front! You’re scenting, remember?” Graytail called.
“Coming!” Petalpaw called back hastily, shooting Scorchpaw an apologetic glance. “We can talk once we rest for the night,” she murmured to the SunClan tom. He dipped his head in acknowledgement as she ran on ahead to join Graytail.
She quickly fell into step beside the LeafClan tom, whose strides were swift and almost violent, his paws digging deep grooves into the moorland soil. “Good, you’re here,” Graytail meowed. “Just let me know if the direction of the scent trail starts to change.”
Petalpaw nodded mutely and opened her jaws to scent the air. The faint smell of MoonClan touched the back of her throat, sending warmth radiating through her body. The scent was proof that MoonClan had been here, that her father’s pads had touched the same ground as hers, that they were alive and breathing, that there was hope.
They continued to follow the scent trail, which led in a straight, unwavering line toward the horizon. Petalpaw squinted; ahead, in the grassy hills, there was a shimmering strip of blackness. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, it was still there.
“Graytail?” she asked. “What is that?”
The gray tom narrowed his eyes against the sunlight and followed her gaze. “I think that’s a Thunderpath,” he murmured. “I’ve never been this far beyond the territories before, let alone LeafClan land.”
Petalpaw shivered at the mention of a Thunderpath. Dread began to pool in her belly like cold, heavy saltwater. The last time she’d been near a Thunderpath -- the only time -- she’d barely avoided getting crushed by a monster. How could she be sure that this time wouldn’t be the same? Or worse?
“It’s a big one,” Graytail remarked in a low voice. “I’d say at least four stripes, if not more.”
Petalpaw glared at him. You’re not helping my nerves! “What’s a stripe?” she asked instead, trying valiantly to keep her voice steady.
“Most Thunderpaths are separated by white stripes, sometimes yellow,” Graytail explained matter-of-factly. “The monsters run in their own sections, divided by the stripes.”
Petalpaw tilted her head. “Weird. Windpaw would love that.” The gray tom always seemed fascinated by odd Twoleg contraptions.
“He would,” Graytail agreed. “When we cross, we must make sure to take it one stripe at a time. The monsters hardly ever cross the boundaries.”
“Hardly ever?” Petalpaw repeated. That’s not the same as “no.”
“Yes, hardly ever,” Graytail confirmed with a nod. “But they never leave the Thunderpath. We’ll just need to be careful.”
The group padded on in an uneasy silence. Every few steps, Petalpaw prayed fervently that MoonClan’s scent trail would veer away from the Thunderpath. Unfortunately, it stayed true to its course and headed straight for the path of blackstone. Petalpaw’s fur prickled and her anxiety grew as they approached the Thunderpath, and she glanced back at Scorchpaw and Windpaw. The two toms were padding next to each other, staring straight ahead with no emotion in their amber and blue eyes.
A roaring sound was swelling in Petalpaw’s ears, unnervingly similar to the sound of the waterfall that plunged into the Starlake. She shuddered, briefly recalling the cold claws of water gripping her, then shook off the memory. But the view ahead didn’t help; the Thunderpath looked like a black stone river, with monsters rushing past left and right. An unpleasant warm wind carried a foul stench to her nose, and she choked.
“Yech!” Scorchpaw exclaimed. “What is that?”
Petalpaw turned to look at him in surprise. “You don’t have a Thunderpath on SunClan territory?”
“No!” Scorchpaw responded, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Thank StarClan! If this is what they smell like, I’m glad we don’t have one.”
Windpaw was gazing at the Thunderpath with undisguised astonishment. “Look at the stripes!” he mewed excitedly. “The monsters never touch them! They stay inside the lines! And look; did you see the boundary in the middle? It’s made of stone! The monsters on our side are going right, and the monsters on the other are going left! Isn’t that weird? Are the Twolegs in their bellies right now?”
Graytail scrutinized the stone boundary slicing through the center of the Thunderpath, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “That could be our safe place to rest,” he murmured. “We get there, pause to catch our breath, and run across the other side. Well spotted, Windpaw.”
Windpaw positively glowed with pride. “And you know what else I noticed?” he asked enthusiastically. “The monsters -- ”
“Enough, enough,” Graytail shushed him. Windpaw fell silent, looking slightly crestfallen. Graytail didn’t seem to notice, as he was still examining the Thunderpath. “We’ll go once we can’t hear any monsters,” he decided. “Scorchpaw, you’ll go first. Then Windpaw, Petalpaw, and myself.”
Petalpaw glanced at Scorchpaw. Why was he picked to go first? she wondered darkly. Is Graytail… hoping he’ll get hit by a monster?
“Maybe I should go first,” Petalpaw suggested.
Graytail rounded on her. “No, you won’t! We need you alive and safe; best to let the more experienced cats go first.”
“Which is why you’ll be going last,” Petalpaw spat, stung.
“Guys, come on -- ” Windpaw began.
“Shut up!” Petalpaw and Graytail ordered at the same time.
Windpaw rolled his eyes and backed up a few paces. “Okay, then.”
“We shouldn’t be fighting before crossing a Thunderpath,” Scorchpaw pointed out. “It will mess with our judgement, and we’ll be reckless.”
“Wh-what -- I was going to say that!” Windpaw spluttered.
“Well, you didn’t,” Scorchpaw meowed calmly, but there was an edge to his voice.
“Don’t be a flea-brain, we all know who’s the smart one around here -- ”
“Not you, that’s for sure -- ”
As Windpaw and Scorchpaw faced off, Petalpaw stalked up to Graytail, her tail lashing. Annoyance surged through her veins, overpowering all common sense. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded. “Why are you acting so weird?”
“Because a certain cat I know is undermining my leadership!” Graytail snarled. “I’m the leader of the patrol here, and we’re going to cross this Thunderpath with no arguments!”
“Too late,” Windpaw grumbled.
Graytail’s fur bristled so that the gray tabby looked twice his size. A little intimidated, Petalpaw stepped back as he yowled, “We’re crossing that forsaken Thunderpath right now, or so help me StarClan I’ll rip your pelts off and line my nest with them!”
Frightened into obedience, Petalpaw, Windpaw, and Scorchpaw stood together, eyes wide, nodding vigorously. Fear trickled through Petalpaw’s veins like cold water. Were they going to have to fight Graytail?
Graytail’s shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, bowing his head. “I just… I hate this constant bickering. Let’s get this crossing over with.” He met Scorchpaw’s amber gaze. “Scorchpaw, you first.”
Scorchpaw gave an almost imperceptible nod, then turned to face the raging Thunderpath. His muscles tensed under his sleek brown pelt -- Petalpaw wondered for a heartbeat if she should’ve said goodbye -- and then he streaked forward, ears flat and tail low, across the Thunderpath. Petalpaw couldn’t tear her eyes away from the dark tabby shape as Scorchpaw swerved through the river of monsters. At last, he reached the stone boundary, and sat atop it, his fur buffeted by the wind.
Petalpaw released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Scorchpaw was safe. Now it was Windpaw’s turn.
“Don’t die,” she ordered him.
Windpaw gave her a crooked grin. “I’ll try not to,” he promised. His muzzle moved forward a fraction toward Petalpaw’s, but he jerked away at the last second and crouched beside the Thunderpath. With a hiss he was sprinting, dodging monsters as they stormed past. Petalpaw watched his progress with bated breath. Luckily, Windpaw made it safely to the halfway point, sitting on the boundary a tail-length away from Scorchpaw.
The relief that pounded through Petalpaw’s veins was quickly extinguished by the sudden realization that she was next.
“Your turn.” Graytail’s voice sounded like an echo from far, far away.
Petalpaw felt herself nodding. “I know.” The blood roared in her ears as she stumbled to the edge of the Thunderpath, paws suddenly shaking as she faced the relentless tide of monsters. Their unnatural pelts glittered menacingly, and their huge black paws promised death.
MoonClan is on the other side, she told herself, just like she’d thought at the river. She lowered herself into an attack crouch, ready to run for her life. She glanced back and forth; there were no monsters in sight.
Now or never, Petalpaw thought. With a screech of terror, she hurled herself at the Thunderpath, running blindly across the pitch-black surface. The ground quaked below her, and the roar of an approaching monster was filling her ears. A burst of adrenaline lent her the speed she needed; she leaped at the boundary, Windpaw helping her up. Soon, she was standing, trembling, beside the two toms.
“Thank StarClan,” Petalpaw sighed, sitting down and sinking her claws into the stone to stop her legs from shaking. “I thought that was the end.”
Scorchpaw gave her a lick on the cheek. “Well, it wasn’t.”
Petalpaw’s face burned and she looked down at her paws, determined not to face him. “G-good.” Her heart was thundering louder than the monsters around them.
Suddenly, Graytail hauled himself up the stone wall, fur spiked up along his spine. The LeafClan tom was panting. “I hate Thunderpaths!” he spat, and the patrol laughed. Their anxiety was painfully obvious as they made jokes with shaking voices and tried to convince themselves that it wasn’t so bad.
“Now for the second half,” Windpaw announced, turning around to confront the other half of the Thunderpath.
Petalpaw shivered with dread. “Fox dung, I thought it was over.”
Scorchpaw purred nervously. “Me too.”
Graytail looked pointedly at the brown tabby tom. “Are you going to go yet, or…?”
Scorchpaw sighed as he stared at the deadly Thunderpath. “I’ll try not to get killed,” he mumbled, glancing at Petalpaw.
She touched her nose to his ear. “I’m sure you won’t,” she murmured consolingly.
Windpaw shouldered Scorchpaw aside. “And what about me?” he inquired, putting on a charming grin.
Petalpaw gave a mrrow of amusement. “You’re crowfood,” she told him.
He growled good-naturedly and briefly touched his nose to hers. “I’ll prove you wrong!”
“Enough, enough,” Graytail silenced him, although the LeafClan tom was smiling. “Scorchpaw, are you -- ”
“I’m ready,” Scorchpaw responded instantly. The brown tabby apprentice hesitated for a heartbeat, then leaped from the stone wall and hared across the Thunderpath. He disappeared behind a roaring black monster, but reappeared on the other side, safe and unscathed. Petalpaw sighed in relief.
“Now for me!” Windpaw meowed. With one last glance at Petalpaw, he jumped down from the boundary and raced across the Thunderpath. The gray tabby was lucky; the blackstone path was empty of monsters for his crossing, and he made it safely to the other side.
“My turn,” Petalpaw muttered, feeling a sick, swooping sensation in her belly. She swallowed hard and teetered at the edge of the boundary for a heartbeat, searching madly for some solace in the two pairs of eyes, amber and blue, across the Thunderpath. Scorchpaw’s eyes were captivating. She focused on them for a moment, then leaped off the boundary.
But just as she landed, she felt her paw twist below her. With a cry of shock and pain, she crumpled to the ground, feeling the hot, grainy blackstone scrape against her chest.
“Petalpaw!” Scorchpaw and Windpaw screamed.
A muffled roar was rising in her ears. Monster! she thought, feeling a bolt of terror. She struggled to her paws and saw a vast, glinting shape, a monster the color of spilled blood, bearing down on her. Its silver eyes gleamed harshly, hungrily, freezing her in place. Behind its transparent black patches, Petalpaw could see a Twoleg, its jaws open wide in a silent screech. Petalpaw slammed her eyes shut and dug her claws into the blackstone.
Oh, StarClan, does it have to end like this? she wondered. It’s almost… pathetic. After everything I’ve survived, I get flattened by a monster. And it’s my own stupid fault.
This time, unlike her fall from the waterfall, she didn’t want to watch the coming monster. Shame twinged within her at her cowardice, but she just couldn’t bear to gaze directly into the monster’s merciless eyes as its paws pounded her to dust. She pressed her belly close to the blackstone and waited for the agony she was sure was coming.
But it never came.
Instead, there was an unearthly screech as the monster veered away from Petalpaw, missing her by mouse-lengths. She opened her eyes and watched, stunned, as it hurtled blindly for the edge of the Thunderpath. It swerved ungracefully, its weight concentrated on its right paws. The momentum lifted the monster off its left paws, which remained spinning in the air, and it careened into the brambles at the side of the Thunderpath, where it stopped moving with an enormous crash.
Petalpaw blinked in astonishment. The Thunderpath was clear after the monster’s downfall. Was that their leader? Petalpaw wondered. She shrugged. It didn’t matter; now she was free to get across. She hobbled quickly over the last two stripes until she felt tough sprigs of grass under her paws. With a tremendous sigh of relief, she collapsed on the ground, all the adrenaline draining out of her.
“Petalpaw!” Windpaw exclaimed, running over. He covered her head with furious licks, and Petalpaw could hear his heart thundering through his flank. “Whatever happened to not dying?”
“I’m not very good at it,” Petalpaw purred, reaching out to touch his paw. It was trembling.
“Thank StarClan you’re alive,” sighed Scorchpaw, sitting down next to her. His voice sounded steadier than Windpaw’s, but Petalpaw could smell the fear-scent rolling off his pelt in waves.
Pawsteps sounded to Petalpaw’s right; Graytail made it safely across. “Why do you always almost die, no matter what we’re doing?” the LeafClan tom demanded.
Petalpaw shrugged. “I don’t know. I try not to.”
Windpaw purred with amusement. “Try harder, then.”
“I will,” Petalpaw promised.
Windpaw nodded in mock-seriousness just as Scorchpaw dipped his head grimly. “Good,” both toms meowed.
Petalpaw stifled a shaky laugh. “Come on,” she mewed. “We should get going.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to rest?” Graytail fretted. “You should be gentle on that paw -- ”
Petalpaw flicked her tail. “I’m fine,” she responded. “We can rest tonight. But I don’t want to hold us up any longer. Our mission is to find MoonClan, and we should do that.”
“Whatever you say, O Great Leader,” Windpaw teased, his blue eyes sparkling.
Petalpaw snorted. “Glad you know your place.”
“I know my place,” Scorchpaw muttered. Graytail shot him an annoyed glance, and the brown tabby tom looked at his paws.
What was that all about?
Petalpaw shook off the thought. I survived the Thunderpath -- just barely -- and it’s time to get going.
“Let’s go,” she meowed, staggering to her paws. She padded forward, away from the Thunderpath, without looking back at the deadly river of blackstone. I never want to see a Thunderpath ever again.
Scorchpaw was waiting in a moonlit clearing, silver starlight dappling his coat. His amber eyes brightened when he saw Petalpaw approaching, and he raised his tail in greeting.
“Ready for some night hunting?” he asked.
“Y-yeah,” Petalpaw stammered, feeling suddenly nervous. “Where should we go?”
Scorchpaw’s striped face was a mere shadow in the night, but she could see the glint of teeth as he spoke, and the mesmerizing glow of amber eyes against dark fur. “I was thinking… maybe by the stream we found?” he suggested. “There could be water voles hiding there.”
Petalpaw nodded in a dazed sort of agreement. “Sure.”
Scorchpaw lowered his head to stare into her eyes. “Are you okay?”
Her heart fluttered madly like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web. “Yeah,” she replied, avoiding his gaze. “Let’s go.” She started padding into the forest.
“Uh, Petalpaw?” Scorchpaw mewed. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“Am I?” Petalpaw shook out her pelt and turned around. “Sorry.”
Great StarClan, I’m turning into one of those she-cats! Snap out of it!
Scorchpaw had already disappeared into the undergrowth, heading for the stream. Petalpaw bounded after him. The night air was cool and promised rain, and it felt pleasant against her cheek as it ruffled her fur. Here she could just be with Scorchpaw, enjoying his company, beyond the boundaries of the Clans. And now that he feels no loyalty to SunClan, I can be his friend!
Petalpaw shoved her way through a prickly bush and emerged in a small glade of moonlit grass, divided by a silver stream. She gaped in astonishment as she padded through the grass, droplets of dew shimmering like stars around her paws. It looked like a scene from StarClan’s hunting grounds.
Scorchpaw was a dark silhouette by the stream, perched on a rock cutting through the shining water. His amber eyes shimmered as his head turned toward her. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yeah,” Petalpaw agreed quietly, padding over and sitting down on a boulder beside him, careful not to sit too close.
They rested in silence for a moment, Petalpaw trying vainly not to stare at the brown tabby tom.
Suddenly, Scorchpaw’s paw flashed out, plunging into the water. Startled, Petalpaw leaped back as cold droplets spun everywhere, speckling her pale fur. She watched, surprised, as a flapping silver fish landed with a wet slap at her paws. Scorchpaw killed it with a swift bite to the neck, then nudged it toward her. “Here,” he meowed, a little shyly. “Brightpaw taught me how to fish. She’s way better than me, though.”
“She?” Petalpaw asked without thinking. Her fur prickled uncomfortably, though she didn’t know why.
Scorchpaw nodded. “She’s my sister.”
“Oh,” Petalpaw mewed softly. Good.
Great StarClan, what is my problem?
“Do you want to try?” Scorchpaw offered. “It’s not that hard, but the water’s cold!” He held up a damp forepaw.
Petalpaw purred in amusement. “I’ll try.” She shuffled to the water’s edge and lifted her right forepaw into the air so that it was hovering over the surface of the stream. In the shallows she could see the silver glint of scales as the fish slid smoothly by. One of them, a small minnow, had separated from the rest of the school. It darted over the pebbles with miniscule flicks of its tail, and when it got close enough to touch, Petalpaw lunged. Her forepaws crashed into the water as she threw her weight forward; she felt the fish writhing between her claws, but it managed to slip away and vanish into the stream’s depths.
Petalpaw gave a frustrated growl and glared into the shimmering water. Her own annoyed face scowled back at her. Hunting on land is much easier than this!
As she was staring at her reflection, there was movement in the ripples beside it; a brown-striped face with luminous amber eyes had appeared, shivering slightly on the moving water. Petalpaw gave a startled jolt and lost her balance, falling headfirst into the freezing stream.
Not again! she thought frantically, her heart thundering and thoughts whirling as water surrounded her on all sides. She kicked out furiously with her hind legs, surprised to find her paws on smooth river rocks. Shakily, Petalpaw stood up, and found that she was standing in the middle of the stream, and that the water barely reached her belly fur.
Feeling hot embarrassment scorch her ears, Petalpaw slowly and reluctantly turned to face Scorchpaw, who looked like he was trying to stifle a laugh. Her cheeks blazed as she stumbled out of the stream and onto the bank, feeling utterly humiliated.
“Great catch,” Scorchpaw snickered, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Maybe you should try that again.”
Petalpaw slapped him with her tail. “Never!”
“Or maybe I could push you in,” Scorchpaw suggested, taking a few steps closer with a wicked grin on his face.
Petalpaw laughed and shoved him away. “You fox-heart!”
Scorchpaw didn’t reply.
Concerned, Petalpaw hurried to his side and sniffed along his spine. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t hurt you -- ”
“You murdered me,” Scorchpaw croaked, rolling onto his back and striking a dramatic death pose. “StarClan, here I come…”
Petalpaw wrinkled her nose. “StarClan? I thought for sure it’d be the Dark Forest, with your fishing lessons.”
Scorchpaw gave a gasp of mock-offense. “How dare you! You shall join me in the Place of No Stars!” With a pretend growl, he grabbed her shoulders and flung her to the ground, where she lay laughing in a patch of moss.
“Okay, okay!” Petalpaw relented, once her last giggles had subsided. “I surrender!”
“Good,” Scorchpaw meowed smugly, his face a mouse-length from hers. “I reign supreme, as always.”
Petalpaw purred. Her heart was pounding. “Not always.”
“Oh, really?” Scorchpaw asked, widening his eyes. Up close, Petalpaw realized that they were more golden than orange, like dappled amber moons, like disks of liquid sunset.
“Yeah,” Petalpaw mumbled listlessly; she had lost track of the conversation. There was that paler splash of fur on his cheek again, where the hairs were sparser. Now that she was only a few whiskers away from Scorchpaw, she could see jagged white lines on the skin. Claw marks. They were scars.
Where did he get those?
“Petalpaw?” Scorchpaw interrupted her silent musing. “Did I snap your mind?”
Petalpaw blinked and scooted away from the tabby apprentice. “N-no, I’m good,” she stammered. “Just…” She stared wordlessly at his face.
He reached up to touch his cheek self-consciously. “The scratches?”
Petalpaw hesitated, then nodded.
Scorchpaw sighed. “I don’t like to talk about them…”
“Sorry,” Petalpaw meowed hurriedly. “You don’t have to -- ”
“You didn’t let me finish.” Scorchpaw’s amber eyes blazed. “I’ll tell you.”
Not even daring to breathe, Petalpaw nodded.
“I was just a kit,” Scorchpaw began, “when I got the scars. I… spoke out against my leader, just a day before my apprentice ceremony. Amberstar was talking about raiding MoonClan, and I overheard. I guess you could say I was a little shocked when I found out what he was planning.” His words were bitter. “I told Brightpaw -- Brightkit then -- what Amberstar had said, and she said she thought it was a good idea. I argued, rather loudly, that it was a horrible thing to do.” He hesitated. “The whole Clan heard, Amberstar, too. He used me as an example -- ” Scorchpaw cleared his throat as his voice started to tremble, then continued. “He said, ‘This is what happens to those who defy their leader,’ and slashed me across the face.”
Petalpaw stared at the apprentice in horror. “Just because -- ”
“ -- I had a different opinion,” Scorchpaw finished, flattening his ears as a haunted look filled his eyes. “My mother was too scared to stand up for me. My own mother.”
Petalpaw couldn’t comprehend the idea. She hadn’t thought once about how Scorchpaw fared in SunClan, not even bothered to ask, always assumed that SunClan was a united group -- evil, yes, but still united. But now she knew that the pain they inflicted on the other cats of the forest ran deep within their veins, and no cat said a word when claws slashed and dripped with blood from their own kin.
She couldn’t fathom the agony of feeling unsafe within your own Clan, of expecting an attack to come from the cats closest to you, of not having anyone to confide in. Despite the fact that MoonClan had been driven out and forced away from the territories, Petalpaw realized that she was lucky to be one of them. Her father was a noble leader, and she trusted him with her life. Her siblings never hurt her, and Shadowleaf always stood up for her. But Scorchpaw had to walk his path alone.
“I’m sorry,” Petalpaw whispered, although she knew the words did nothing to ease Scorchpaw’s pain. She couldn’t reverse the past, and a simple apology just couldn’t encompass the enormous burden on Scorchpaw’s shoulders.
He nodded anyway. “Thanks. I’m all right now, though.”
He’s lying. It still hurts, even now.
But Petalpaw dipped her head. “Thanks for the fishing lesson,” she mewed in a small voice.
Scorchpaw offered her a tiny smile. “You’re welcome. Make sure your shadow doesn’t fall on the water next time.”
“I will,” Petalpaw promised, and she crouched beside Scorchpaw again, ready to catch a fish.
* * * * *
Petalpaw dropped her prey with a splat at Graytail’s paws. The LeafClan tom stared down at the silver scales of the fish, glinting like stars against the leaf-mold. Then, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she stared back evenly, taking comfort in Scorchpaw’s sturdy presence at her shoulder.
“It’s one of the biggest fish I’ve ever seen,” Scorchpaw commented when Graytail said nothing.
Petalpaw nodded firmly and stood closer to Scorchpaw so that their flanks were brushing. “It’s my first fish,” she declared. So you can either be a grumpy badger or just eat it, flea-pelt.
Graytail’s sky-blue eyes were heavy with clouds of disappointment. Petalpaw frowned. What’s his problem? “Is there something wrong?” she asked defensively.
Graytail looked at Scorchpaw, a jumbled mix of emotions in his eyes. Petalpaw couldn’t tell what they were, they were so tangled up. “Petalpaw,” Graytail meowed, and his voice sounded ominous, “I think you and I need to have a talk.”
“What?” Petalpaw demanded. “What did I do? What did he do?” She jerked her head at Scorchpaw, who was blinking at Graytail in obvious confusion.
Graytail’s eyes hardened. “We need to have a talk,” he repeated.
Petalpaw recoiled, thoroughly unsettled by his tone of voice. “Look,” she began hotly, “whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Scorchpaw.” She unsheathed her claws and felt them prick the ground. “He’s a good cat, you should know that by now.”
“I know that,” Graytail murmured.
“Well, you don’t act like it!” Petalpaw snapped. She turned to Scorchpaw. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to talk with Graytail privately.”
“Sure,” Scorchpaw mumbled. “I’ll just be… over here…” He pivoted slowly on the spot and trudged across the temporary camp, tail dragging dejectedly through the damp leaf-mold. Petalpaw felt a pang of guilt as she watched the SunClan tom flop onto his side under a patch of dew-laden ferns, alone in the shadows.
Why can’t Graytail just trust him?
Petalpaw whipped back toward Graytail, a jibe on the tip of her tongue, ready to fight on Scorchpaw’s behalf. She dug her unsheathed claws into the spongy forest floor, relishing the feeling of an impending argument. Graytail, however, looked anything but energized. Instead, the gray LeafClan tabby had deep shadows under his blue eyes, which were looking more sunken than Petalpaw had realized. He looked… sad.
“Come on,” he murmured, flicking his tail in a gesture for her to follow him. “Let’s get out of earshot.”
Petalpaw began to feel a creeping sense of curiosity, and she complied without a word. Questions were whirling around in her head as she padded after Graytail until they were well away from the makeshift camp. What is he going to say? Why is he so sad-looking? Did I do something wrong and I didn’t even know it? Is this about Scorchpaw?
Graytail began the conversation with a long, drawn-out sigh. Petalpaw’s ears pricked at the sound; surely it would lead to something interesting, if it was worth sighing about?
“You’re probably wondering what I’m going to say.” Graytail paused heavily.
Get on with it! Petalpaw thought impatiently, flexing her claws in the grass. But she remained silent, sitting on her tail to stop it from lashing.
“I’ve noticed you’ve been hanging around Scorchpaw,” Graytail remarked. The tom’s voice was weighted with reluctance and regret, as though he didn’t want to say the words he was about to. But he forged on anyway. “You seem to be good… friends.”
Uh oh, Petalpaw thought. She didn’t like where this was going.
“I just…” Graytail huffed out a breath in frustration. “You have to abide by the warrior code, remember? He’s SunClan, you’re MoonClan… it just doesn’t work.”
“What are you saying?” Petalpaw mewed, feeling a mounting sense of dread.
“I’m saying that you and Scorchpaw can’t be together,” Graytail meowed bluntly, staring directly into her eyes.
Petalpaw stumbled backward. “B-be together? That’s ridiculous, we’re not even together!” she babbled. “You can’t -- that’s not -- we -- ”
Graytail snorted. “Oh, please. I see the way you stare at him, like a starving kit looking at a fat rabbit. And he’s padding after you, too.”
Petalpaw blinked dumbly. Her ears were full of a ringing sound, echoing around inside of her head. Is that what it is? she thought. Is that -- I like Scorchpaw? And he likes me? Her heart sped up as an image of the lonely amber-eyed tom filled her mind. Her paws tingled. That’s… no. That’s so stupid, Petalpaw! You can’t like him! You barely know him!
But that wasn’t completely true… Petalpaw knew Scorchpaw better now, she knew of the scars etched into his flesh and his heart alike, knew his scent and heard his laugh and felt the touch of his fur…
Petalpaw buried her head in her forepaws, utterly humiliated. She had never thought of herself as shallow before; she’d always looked down on the she-cats who gossiped about the most handsome toms and chose the best-looking one in the group, even if he had a rock for a brain.
But here she was, crushing on a cat from another Clan who actually liked her back. Hundreds of swooning she-cats would kill to be in her place.
But this… was different. Somehow, Petalpaw knew that it wasn’t harmless. And she knew that it was because Scorchpaw was SunClan.
SunClan, the Clan of her enemies.
The Clan that drove out MoonClan.
The Clan that stole her life.
Graytail sighed. “Believe me, I know that relationships outside of your own Clan are bad. They never end well.”
Petalpaw stared at him in surprise. “What, were you in one?”
Graytail sniffed haughtily. “I’ll have you know that I do get a lot of she-cats’ attention.”
“What, with your long, inspiring lectures?” Petalpaw muttered under her breath.
Graytail didn’t seem to hear. “I had a mate outside the Clan,” he admitted. “She died, though.” He gave himself a brisk shake, then continued in a more brusque voice. “The important thing is, stay away from Scorchpaw. It’s for your own good.”
Petalpaw stared at Graytail in dismay. “You can’t tell me what to do!” she protested. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t be friends with!”
“Friends?” Graytail asked, raising an eyebrow.
Petalpaw hissed in frustration. “Who cares? I am my own cat, and you don’t make decisions for me! What does it matter if I like being around Scorchpaw? It doesn’t concern you!”
“I’m only trying to keep you safe,” Graytail argued. “I just -- I have a hard time trusting Scorchpaw, even after the battle! It goes against all my instincts to travel with a SunClan cat, let alone trust one!”
“We’ve been over this,” Petalpaw growled. “I trust him, and you will learn to do so, too. Did you know that he was permanently scarred by Amberstar as a kit? While his parents sat and watched?” Petalpaw felt a stab of guilt at betraying Scorchpaw’s secret, but it was the only card she had left to play.
And it worked.
Graytail’s eyes widened, shocked orbs of cobalt catching the predawn light. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Then he cleared his throat and rasped, “That’s -- oh, StarClan -- that’s horrible.”
“See?” Petalpaw challenged him. “You can’t judge a cat by the Clan they belong to. Scorchpaw isn’t happy in SunClan; do you really think he’s on their side?”
Graytail bowed his head. “I find that difficult to believe, now,” he acknowledged.
Petalpaw gave a satisfied nod. “Now can I go back?” she asked dryly. “Or do you have another piece of wisdom to share with me?”
Graytail didn’t look up. “You may go.”
Unnerved by the depressed slope of his shoulders, Petalpaw backed up a few paces, then turned and fled, heading back to the camp. She only glanced back once to see Graytail lift his head to the fading stars. She saw his mouth move, and heard his faint voice on the breeze.
“Oh, StarClan, I tried… That poor kit…”
Petalpaw’s heart froze and she skidded to a halt. The first icy tendrils of fear were beginning to curl in her chest. Graytail’s voice was heavy with sorrow and regret, as though the conversation with Petalpaw was more meaningful than she’d realized before. He really did want to warn me, Petalpaw thought with a small shiver. Should I listen to him?
“Hey, Petalpaw!” a familiar voice greeted her. Petalpaw gave a startled yelp as a brown tabby tom bounded up to her. “How was your talk with Graytail?” Scorchpaw asked.
“Good,” Petalpaw lied with a forced smile. It became more real as Scorchpaw grinned back, which made his amber eyes warmer and brighter. “I’m going to get a bit of rest before dawn,” she meowed, averting her gaze as she felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Graytail’s lectures are painful.”
Scorchpaw purred in amusement and nudged her shoulder, unbalancing her. “Sweet dreams,” he called after Petalpaw as she padded slowly back to the makeshift camp.
“Thanks,” Petalpaw mumbled uncomfortably. Her heart did flutter a little in spite of her best efforts to control it. Frustration prickled through every hair on her pelt as she bid Scorchpaw a short farewell and trudged back to the temporary camp. Petalpaw didn’t glance back once, but she could feel Scorchpaw’s piercing amber eyes on her as she was swallowed by shadows, and felt the echo of his gaze lingering with her even once she was alone.
“Look!” Windpaw exclaimed. “What is that?”
Petalpaw glanced up from her paws at his words. The group was up and traveling again, with Petalpaw trailing at the back, refusing to let any cat near her. She didn’t want to talk to Graytail, nor interact with Scorchpaw in his presence, and Windpaw… being around Windpaw felt odd. Whenever Petalpaw engaged in any conversation with him, it would feel tense, like a storm was about to break.
Great StarClan, how much longer do I have to travel with them?
“I think it’s a Twoleg barn,” came Graytail’s voice from up ahead. Petalpaw looked up and followed the tilt of his head; nestled in a nearby valley was a large, blockish shape. A strange sound echoed over the plains; a long, deep moaning sound, almost crooning, and it seemed to come from what Graytail called a Twoleg barn.
Petalpaw’s ears pricked in alarm as the sound rang in her ears again. “What is that sound?” she demanded, imagining some sort of giant, talking monster with a shudder.
“Cows,” Graytail replied. Petalpaw glared at him, not missing the amusement in his voice. “They’re big, hoofed creatures with black-and-white pelts.”
“Like giant deer?” Scorchpaw questioned.
Graytail nodded. “Sort of. You’ll see once we get to the barn.”
As the unfamiliar words flew around Petalpaw’s head, she flattened her ears, feeling stupid. Embarrassment burned her cheeks when she realized that she knew virtually nothing about the world except the cats in her own Clan. Even Windpaw was nodding along like it all made sense. I haven’t ever heard of a cow or a deer or a -- what did he call it? A barn…?
Sighing quietly, she trudged after the others. Her wariness grew with each pawstep that took her closer to the barn, and the low, ominous calls of the cows sounded like thunder in her ears.
Soon they were close enough to see the cows. Petalpaw gave a shriek of surprise as the huge creatures stomped slowly by, their heavy hooves pounding the earth. They were massive, with rough black-and-white pelts just as Graytail had promised. Petalpaw stared, frightened but curious, into the rolling brown eyes and broad faces. With a bolt of terror she saw one of them open its mouth, revealing large, yellow teeth; but to her relief, the teeth were blunt, and the cow bent its head to start chewing on a tussock of grass instead of the passing cats. Thank StarClan! If they ate meat, we’d all be crowfood.
“My mother told me about cows,” Windpaw meowed suddenly. He glanced at his paws. “She said that they ate grass and hay, and slept in barns at night.”
Petalpaw felt a pang of sadness and pity for the young tom. Whenever he spoke of Belladonna she was instantly a kit again, watching the beautiful she-cat bleed in front of her as the last breath left her body. No matter how hard Petalpaw tried to forget it, the memory stayed with her, and it haunted Windpaw as well.
“What’s hay?” Scorchpaw mewed, breaking the awkward silence.
Windpaw didn’t look at him. “It’s basically dried grass,” he responded shortly. “A lot of barn animals eat it.”
“You mean there are more?” Petalpaw asked.
Windpaw gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yes, there are more than just cows. Sheep -- they look like clouds with legs. Goats are the same, just not as fluffy. And chickens…” A dreamy expression crossed his face, banishing the coldness from earlier. “They’re the most massive birds, and the Twolegs feed them seeds so they grow nice and fat. What I wouldn’t give to catch one… It’d feed half the Clan…”
Uneasily, Petalpaw wondered if he meant LeafClan or MoonClan. But she said nothing as they kept walking, Windpaw retelling the stories of barn animals that his mother had told him.
Finally, they reached the barn. Petalpaw’s nose wrinkled as a musty scent filled her nostrils, of old wood and dusty hay and what she assumed was cow dirt.
“Wait, do you smell that?” Scorchpaw meowed suddenly.
“What, the stench of the cows’ dirtplace?” Petalpaw asked dryly, rolling her eyes.
“No,” Scorchpaw murmured. His ears pricked as he sniffed the air. “There’s cat scent here.”
Frowning, Petalpaw lifted her nose to the breeze and inhaled deeply. Past the overwhelming scents of the cows, Petalpaw detected cat scent, just as Scorchpaw had. “I smell it, too,” she told him.
Scorchpaw’s hackles rose. “We should get out of here. Rogues bring trouble.”
Windpaw flinched. Petalpaw’s brow furrowed, and she bit her lip, unsure if she should speak up in his defense. That would mean offending Scorchpaw, and that could tear their group apart even further.
She stayed silent, despite the guilt churning in her belly. She tried to ignore Windpaw’s incredulous stare, his blue eyes full of betrayal.
“Too late,” Graytail murmured, and the cat scent was suddenly much stronger now, all around the patrol, as cats slunk out of the barn and surrounded them. Heart pounding, Petalpaw stumbled backward and pressed against Graytail, Scorchpaw, and Windpaw, forming a defensive circle.
“We come in peace!” Graytail called, sheathing his claws and raising his tail in greeting.
Petalpaw narrowed her eyes at the cats. She was facing a pale ginger she-cat who didn’t look like she accepted their offer of peace. The rogue’s green eyes were slits of open mistrust, and her tail was bristling. But under the thick fur, Petalpaw could see faint tremors running through the she-cat’s body; she was shivering.
She’s scared of us!
Petalpaw turned her head slowly to study the other two cats. One was a plump brown she-cat who didn’t look hungry for a fight, but there was a forced expression of ferocity on her face. Her blue eyes were exhausted, but they still sparked with a faint challenge. The tom next to her was black as night, with fiery yellow eyes. His fur was bristling and his lips were drawn back in a snarl; he certainly looked ready to start clawing their pelts off.
But in every cat was a tremble of fear.
They’re scared of us… all of them…
Petalpaw blinked, stunned and a little honored. She never thought of herself as scary before, but to these rogues, who looked as though they’d never missed a meal, she was.
There was a sharp hiss from Windpaw in her ear. “There are kits here!”
Petalpaw smelled the kit-scent at the same time. A milky aroma clung to the brown she-cat’s fur. She must be the mother.
These cats are just trying to protect their kits!
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Petalpaw told them, her fur flattening and her claws retracting. “We’re just passing through.”
“Not even Scorchpaw here would hurt a kit,” Windpaw promised, his whiskers twitching. Scorchpaw scowled at him, which made Windpaw smirk.
The brown she-cat’s fur flattened, and her claws sheathed as she rose out of her attack crouch. “Sorry,” she mewed, sounding genuinely apologetic. “It’s just a mother’s instinct to fight on behalf of her kits.”
The ginger she-cat snorted. “Don’t be so quick to let your guard down, Apple,” she meowed scornfully. “These cats could beat you in a fight any day.” She eyed Scorchpaw’s extended claws suspiciously.
Petalpaw nudged the brown tabby tom. He gave a startled little jerk and whispered, “What?” She gestured to his unsheathed claws. With a mumbled apology, Scorchpaw sheathed them and did his best to look non- threatening.
The ginger she-cat still didn’t relax. Her gaze was darting all over the Clan cats, sizing them up and scanning for weaknesses. On Petalpaw’s right side, Windpaw was doing the same to the rogues. His eyes shone with blue fire as he examined them, determination in every tensed muscle under his pelt.
Petalpaw flicked him gently with her tail, and he shot about five tail-lengths into the air. “What in the w -- StarClan was that?” he demanded.
“Just… we’re not looking for a fight,” she murmured. “Do your best to look non-threatening.” She just barely refrained from adding, like Scorchpaw’s doing. Comparing Windpaw to Scorchpaw never resulted in anything good. Either way, there would be one tom angry with her.
The black rogue tom thrust his muzzle aggressively into Graytail’s face. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Stallion,” hissed Apple in a warning tone of voice. The black tom didn’t seem to hear; he was still waiting expectantly for Graytail’s response.
“We’re searching for a large group of cats,” the LeafClan cat answered. “They call themselves MoonClan. We were following their trail and came upon your barn. Have you seen them?”
Apple shivered. “No, but we heard them. They sounded awfully tired and hungry; if only they’d stayed with us! There are many mice in the barn.”
The ginger she-cat wrinkled her nose. “I’m glad they didn’t come. This barn is crowded enough as it is, with the kits here.”
“Don’t be so cranky, Hay!” Apple chided the she-cat. Petalpaw was puzzled for a moment, then realized that the cat’s name was Hay. That must get confusing, she thought with a wry twitch of her whiskers.
The black tom, Stallion, slowly lowered himself back onto his haunches. “Will you be staying long?” he growled.
Graytail shook his head. “No. Just for the night, if that’s okay with you?”
Stallion huffed. “Fine. But lay one claw on my kits and you’ll wish you were never born.”
“And I’ll flay you alive,” Hay added, lashing her tail. With one last glare at Scorchpaw, she marched over to stand beside Stallion.
Apple blinked warmly at the Clan cats. “I’m sorry for my sister’s rudeness,” she apologized quietly, so Hay couldn’t hear. “She doesn’t like strangers. And Stallion is just protective of our kits, that’s all.”
Petalpaw nodded in understanding and saw that Graytail and Windpaw were, too. The only cat who remained unmoving was Scorchpaw. Sadness clouded his amber eyes, and Petalpaw knew he was thinking of his own mother, who had stood by and let him face Amberstar’s wrath alone.
“Would you like me to show you around?” Apple asked earnestly.
“Yes,” Graytail replied. “Thank you.”
Apple dipped her head amiably. “My pleasure.” With a flick of her tail, the rogue queen padded into the barn. Graytail shrugged and trotted after her. Petalpaw and Scorchpaw exchanged a glance, then followed, Windpaw only a few paces behind them.
The inside of the barn was dry and warm as a kit’s bedding. Dust motes floated lazily in the narrow shafts of sunlight streaming through the gaps in the wooden walls. Petalpaw felt parched earth and prickly stalks of hay underpaw as she padded cautiously around, inspecting every nook and cranny.
Great mounds of hay were tucked up against the far left corner, under some sort of elevated wooden structure that spanned half of the barn. Petalpaw approached it warily. The flat slab of wood above was connected to the ground by some sort of… tree-thing. The tree’s branches were perfectly straight and horizontal, clasped between two skinny trunks that were exactly vertical. Petalpaw sniffed it, puzzled. It smelled of the rogue cats, scents upon scents built up for many seasons. They must have climbed this tree-thing many times, Petalpaw thought.
“Hey, I know what that is!” Windpaw chirped. The mottled gray tom bounced over to the tree-thing, blatantly ignoring Petalpaw. He tested a paw on one of the horizontal branches and beamed. “It’s a ladder! I heard about them in the Twoleg stories that Mother -- ” He stopped abruptly. With a pang of pity, Petalpaw saw his shoulders slump. Pain gnawed at her insides when the lonely tom didn’t turn to her for support like he used to.
“Very good, sweetheart,” Apple praised him. “The ladder leads to the loft, where we sleep with the kits in the hay.”
Ladder? Loft? Petalpaw blinked, thoroughly confused by all the unfamiliar words.
“Can I meet them?” Windpaw asked, a little shyly.
Apple purred. “Of course! Let me show you how to climb up.” The plump brown she-cat hurried up to the ladder and placed her forepaws on the second branch. Then, her hind legs came off the ground and attached to the first branch. Up she went, placing her forepaws and then her hind paws, until she heaved herself over the top and turned around. Her round face radiated happiness. “Come on, it’s not hard,” she urged Windpaw.
The gray tom grinned. He proceeded to climb the ladder just as expertly as Apple, as though he’d been doing it his whole life. The thought made a dark, gloomy weight settle down on Petalpaw, pressing her against the ground. She was being crushed under the mass of her guilt and sorrow.
I should have defended him. Why didn’t I defend him?
I’m such a flea-brain.
“Are you going to meet the kits, too?” a voice suddenly asked her.
Petalpaw leaped into the air, startled. Fur bristling, she rounded on the cat talking to her, but it was only Scorchpaw, his amber eyes mildly surprised at her explosion of shock. Feeling hot under her pelt, Petalpaw muttered, “I don’t know… I guess.” Talking about kits felt… weird. Especially with Scorchpaw.
StarClan help me, Petalpaw thought with a heavy sigh.
“Don’t you like kits?” Scorchpaw inquired, cocking his head.
Every hair on Petalpaw’s pelt spiked up at his words. “Heh -- no -- I mean, I like them, they’re cute -- but -- I don’t know if I’d -- uh -- ” She glanced around wildly, desperately, searching for some sort of distraction. “Well, l-let’s go m-meet the kits! That -- that sounded… wrong…” With a slightly insane laugh, Petalpaw charged up the ladder, tripping over the last branch and landing clumsily on the floor of the loft.
“Great StarClan!” Scorchpaw exclaimed. “You’re so jumpy today! Is everything all right?” His anxious face hovered over hers.
Gah! Petalpaw scooted away from him, ignoring the splinters that tore at her fur. “Everything’s fine,” she meowed quickly. “Let’s go meet some k -- ”
Petalpaw hadn’t even finished the sentence when three balls of fluff shot out from a mountain of hay, shrieking a high-pitched battle cry. Her eyes widened as the three kits flew into her, latching onto her soft gray-and-white fur. The sudden deluge of flapping paws and whipping tails unbalanced Petalpaw and sent her sprawling to the ground again.
“Death to the intruders!” squeaked the kit perched on Petalpaw’s chest, a black tabby tom.
“Flint, you rabbit-brain!” a pale brown she-kit scolded him. “Can’t you see that they’re comin’ in peace?”
“If you’re so sure they’re peaceful, why are your claws at her throat?” muttered the third one, a dusty gray she-kit.
The pale brown she-kit glared at the gray one. “Jus’ a precaution, April,” she meowed, blue eyes narrowed suspiciously as they returned to Petalpaw. “You can never be too careful.”
The gray she-kit, April, rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’re all idiots,” she grumbled, relinquishing her hold on Petalpaw’s tail. She stepped back and stared disapprovingly at her attacking littermates.
Flint’s head popped up from where he was trying to nip Petalpaw’s neck. His short white teeth barely made it through her fur, and the tiny tom spat out several white hairs before exclaiming, “She’s indestructable!”
“Idiots,” April repeated, turning away from her brother as though she couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Oh, Flint, Hazel, get off!” Apple chided, running up to her kits. Flint, upon seeing his mother’s flustered approach, promptly turned and ran, diving into the mountain of hay. Hazel remained where she was; the small brown she-kit’s claws didn’t retract in the slightest as she stared defiantly at her mother.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Apple apologized to Petalpaw as the harried-looking she-cat grabbed Hazel by the scruff.
Kicking and flailing, Hazel wailed, “Mother! I was jus’ tryin’ to protect you from the intruders!”
“Not very well,” April noted.
“Shut up!” Hazel snapped at her sister.
April smirked. “I was just noticing -- ”
“April, stop your cheeky little remarks!” Apple ordered, exasperation in her voice. “Hazel, don’t use such rude words. And Flint -- ” The brown she-cat’s green eyes roved the loft, finally spotting her son’s black-tipped ears poking out of a clump of hay. “Flint, stop hiding from me! You should have known better not to attack, all of you!”
“But we did a good job, didn’t we?” Hazel asked challengingly.
Apple’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t test my patience, little bug,” she warned her daughter. “It’s stretched to the limit already with your roughhousing.”
“You okay?” Scorchpaw murmured, his breath ruffling her ear fur.
Petalpaw’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she responded, standing up and shaking out her pelt, a little violently. “A few kits could never take me.”
“Are you sure?” Scorchpaw asked, amusement glittering in his amber eyes. “You looked pretty defeated -- hey!” he yelped, as Petalpaw aimed a blow at his ear. “Okay, okay, you win!”
“Of course,” Petalpaw replied, extending her neck so that her muzzle was a mouse-length from his. She smirked. “After all, you don’t always rule.”
They fell silent, both cats remembering their midnight hunt together.
“Am I interrupting something?” a new voice snapped.
Petalpaw froze, then pulled back from Scorchpaw to face the mottled gray tom in front of her. Windpaw’s hackles were rising, his tail bristling. His blue eyes were cold and unfriendly, an unnerving expression on his usually welcoming face. Unease flitted briefly through Petalpaw, making her belly churn. Windpaw looked… frightening. A shiver ran through the length of her body. With his intelligence and cunning, Windpaw would make a formidable opponent. And with the right motivation, couldn’t any cat turn on her?
Not Windpaw, she thought, trying to dismiss the terrifying idea. Being paranoid won’t help anything. He’s my friend.
“Sorry,” Petalpaw mumbled. “Just… an inside joke.”
Windpaw stared at her a moment before replying, “Cool.” Then he turned away, back to Apple and the kits. “Hey, kits, let’s have a contest! The cat who can hold onto my tail the longest without falling off is the winner…”
Petalpaw watched him play with the kits, feeling as though a raincloud hung above her head, casting a circle of shadow upon her. Sadness opened up a gaping maw in her heart as she watched the squealing kits pounce on Windpaw’s tail. The gray tom didn’t even seem to care that his tail-tip was being shredded by their thorn-sharp claws. He just smiled and laughed with the kits, purring when Hazel grabbed his tail, helping Flint when the black tabby tripped and got a splinter in his paw, nodding along with April’s complaints about her moronic siblings.
The happy image of fun somehow felt sad, at least to Petalpaw. A lump formed in her throat. Windpaw was once an innocent kit like them, with a head full of ideas and a heart full of dreams…
Why did StarClan take that away from him?
“What do you think of the barn?” Apple asked, breaking Petalpaw out of her stupor.
Petalpaw thought about it for a moment. “It’s nice,” she responded vaguely.
Apple smiled at her. “My sister Hay prefers the open moorland, but this is the best place to raise our kits. There are mice in every season, and the hay bales make great places for dens.” The brown she-cat paused to watch Windpaw play with the kits. Flint clung to his shoulders and Hazel’s claws were still embedded in his tail, while April reluctantly joined in with the fun. “He’s very good with kits,” Apple commented. “He’ll make a great father one day.”
Petalpaw shifted uncomfortably, trying her best to ignore Scorchpaw’s blazing stare burning into her flank. “Yeah, I guess…” she mumbled self-consciously. Scorchpaw’s left ear twitched, but the brown tabby tom said nothing.
“How about you?” Apple asked Scorchpaw kindly. “Do you like kits?”
Petalpaw saw Scorchpaw’s muscles tense under his pelt. His shoulders hunched and his fur prickled defensively. “Uh, sure,” he muttered. “I don’t know…”
Apple turned to Petalpaw. “How about you, dear?”
Petalpaw shrank back a few steps. Despite the warm glimmer in Apple’s green eyes, it still felt like an interrogation. What is it with her and kits?
“Uh… kits are… they’re cute, I guess…” Petalpaw mewed, staring at her paws.
Apple crinkled her nose with an expression that read, Young cats… they’re so adorable. “All right, I’ll stop questioning your opinions on kits.” She gazed at her own litter, green eyes tender. “They’re worth every second of pain.” Then, the plump she-cat turned back to Petalpaw and Scorchpaw. “I know you’re passing through, looking for some sort of… Clan… but could you tell us your story? New cats are so intriguing, and we never get any visitors.”
“I wanna hear a story!” Flint piped up.
April shot her brother a withering stare. “I have a story for you. It’s called, One Pretty She-cat and her Annoying Littermates.”
Flint perked up immediately. “That sounds coo -- ” the black tabby started, then stopped. A look of realization swept over his small face as he seemed to understand his sister’s jibe. He huffed. “You’re such a fox-heart!”
April purred with amusement. “Took you long enough,” she snickered.
“April, stop teasing your brother!” Apple ordered the dusty gray she-cat. April rolled her eyes but obediently clamped her jaws shut.
“Mouse-brain,” she hissed at Flint through her clenched teeth.
“I want to hear the actual story,” Hazel interjected, stomping up to her mother. She turned huge, pleading blue eyes on Petalpaw. “Can you tell it? Please?”
“Maybe once everyone’s around,” Scorchpaw suggested, nudging Petalpaw. “I don’t think Petalpaw here would like repeating it over and over.”
“Petalpaw?” Apple meowed. “That’s a pretty name. Oh, that reminds me, we should all introduce ourselves! I’m so sorry, I completely forgot… my name is Apple, and Stallion is my mate. These are our kits: Flint, Hazel, and April. My sister Hay lives with us.” Apple tipped her head to one side. “What are your names?”
“I’m Petalpaw,” Petalpaw introduced herself, “and this is Scorchpaw. I’m from MoonClan, and he’s from SunClan.” She tried to keep her voice even when the name of her enemy Clan rolled off her tongue. It was difficult, after all they’d done, but not impossible. Scorchpaw shot her a grateful look.
“And I’m Windpaw,” Windpaw interrupted, padding up to join them. The mottled gray tom sat down several tail-lengths away, keeping his tail wrapped tightly around his paws. “I was a rogue before I joined LeafClan.”
Petalpaw winced. The gray tom was making it sound like he was a permanent part of LeafClan, again.
Maybe he really does feel that way, Petalpaw thought sadly. Hopelessness tugged at her fur like the river dragging her into its depths. This will be our last journey together, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
With a deep, shuddering sigh, Petalpaw bowed her head and acknowledged the cold, hard truth.
Windpaw isn’t going to join MoonClan.
“Are you all right, darling?” Apple asked, sounding concerned.
Petalpaw blinked to clear her heavy thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine.” The lie slid easily off her tongue. She’d been repeating the same story her whole life.
I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m good.
Lie after lie after lie.
“Should we meet up with the others?” Windpaw suggested, filling the uneasy pocket of silence. “I think Hay, Stallion, and Graytail are below the loft.”
“Yes, of course,” Apple murmured, dipping her head. She turned to her kits. “Stay right here,” she meowed sternly. “We’re going downstairs to speak with the new cats.”
“Of course, Mother,” Hazel purred unconvincingly.
“We won’t move a mouse-length,” Flint promised.
“I won’t let these rabbit-brains out of my sight,” April vowed.
Apple sighed. “Good. We’ll be back soon.” With those words, the plump brown she-cat started climbing down the ladder. Windpaw followed, then Petalpaw, with Scorchpaw at the rear.
“I won’t let you fall,” Scorchpaw murmured.
Petalpaw nearly lost her balance at his words. “Mouse-brain, don’t scare me! You almost made me break my neck!” She paused, then whispered, “But… thanks.”
Windpaw gave a loud sneeze in front of her, which sounded suspiciously like, “Fox dung!”
Petalpaw rolled her eyes and leaped to the ground behind the gray tom. Scorchpaw followed, falling into step beside her as the little group padded toward Graytail, Hay, and Stallion. The three cats glanced up when they saw Apple, Petalpaw, Windpaw, and Scorchpaw approaching.
Graytail raised his tail in greeting. “Stallion and Hay were just showing me around,” he explained. “Did you meet the kits?”
“Yes,” Windpaw responded quickly, before Petalpaw or Scorchpaw could get a word in edgewise. “April is hilarious.”
Stallion snorted. “That’s one way to describe her.” But his eyes were warm with affection for his troublemaking daughter.
“Stallion, these cats have offered to share their story with us,” Apple mewed to her mate.
Stallion’s eyes gleamed. “Finally, something exciting is happening around here! Go ahead, come sit down.” He led the Clan cats to a pile of hay, where several hastily-made nests lay. Petalpaw and Scorchpaw exchanged a glance, then selected their own nests. Windpaw sat away from them, closer to Graytail.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Petalpaw hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Graytail. Surely, as the leader of the patrol, he should be the one to speak?
But Graytail nodded at her in a gesture for her to begin the story. Surprised, Petalpaw mouthed, Me?
Graytail smiled and nodded again. Encouraged, Petalpaw cleared her throat, then started to tell her story.
She told them about SunClan’s attack on MoonClan, how the snarls echoed through the pine forest and how Shadowleaf had said that Ravenstar was too busy to play. She mentioned every vivid detail in describing her fall into the ice-cold river, and how she crawled out into SunClan territory, and how Belladonna and Windpaw had saved her from the SunClan patrol. She forced herself to recall the fox attack, and saw Belladonna bleeding on the ground once more. Then she spoke of the LeafClan cats that carried her home, and how she and Windpaw became apprentices. Petalpaw recounted her experience touring the territory, destroying the Mossrock, and how she raced into the forest. She told them of her meeting with Scorchpaw, how he refused to kill her, trying to conjure up every miniscule detail in order to make them understand exactly what happened. About halfway through her tale Petalpaw realized that she wasn’t just informing the barn cats of her travels anymore; she was telling Windpaw, she was telling Scorchpaw, she was compelling them to understand, to realize that MoonClan was worth all of this, that Scorchpaw could be trusted, that she loved them all and would miss them when they had all gone back to their own Clans.
Windpaw was staring at her, his mouth hanging open, blue eyes astonished and riveted to her face, almost pleading, full of regret and sadness and amazement…
Scorchpaw was gazing at her, too, the protective shell around his mysterious amber eyes crumbling as emotions started to seep through.
It was working, Petalpaw could be friends with both of them, she just had to make them see that…
Suddenly, Petalpaw stiffened. The words died in her throat, and the captivated faces of the barn cats became confused.
“Is something -- ” Apple started to ask, but Petalpaw wasn’t listening. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she sniffed the air.
A powerful scent, hauntingly familiar, was trickling in through the open doors of the barn. Every hair on her pelt stood on end as a wave of painful memories rushed back to Petalpaw with the strengthening scent.
Snapping teeth, wicked claws.
Death. So much death.
“Get everyone in the loft, now,” Petalpaw commanded, her voice shaking.
Graytail looked concerned. “Petalpaw, are you alright?”
Petalpaw rounded on the gray tabby tom, tail lashing. “Climb the ladder, now!” she screeched.
“Petalpaw, tell us what’s going on!” Scorchpaw shouted.
Petalpaw glanced wildly at the open barn doors. “You have to get up!” she urged the brown tabby tom. “I can explain, but first you have to get to safety!”
“From what?!” Scorchpaw demanded.
“Oh, StarClan,” Windpaw whispered.
Petalpaw jerked her head around to look at the mottled gray tom. His jaw was slack as horror clouded his blue eyes. He, too, was staring at the entrance to the barn, realizing what lay beyond, what was about to charge in…
Suddenly, a powerful wave of scent washed over the frightened cats. Everyone knew now, everyone knew what it was.
A snarling, russet shape appeared in the entrance to the barn. Slavering jaws and furious eyes, paws as dark as shadow, claws that ripped and tore…
“Foxes!” Petalpaw screamed.
Nobody moved, nobody breathed; fear-scent was thick and heavy in the air as everyone stared at the fox. Petalpaw was frozen in horror, heart racing. If we stay very still… and very quiet… it might just leave…
Then there was a shrill squeal from behind Petalpaw; she whipped her head around to locate the source and saw Flint sprawled on the ground, his tail waving wildly as the black tabby tom tried to right himself. Petalpaw’s breath caught in her throat. If the tiny kit couldn’t get away from the fox…
“What in the name of StarClan are you doing down here?” Petalpaw hissed. Ice trickled down her spine as the fox slowly swiveled its narrow head in her direction. Its eyes, endless pits of darkness, fastened onto hers, swallowing her whole.
It knew. It knew that there were cats here.
“Flint, you’re so clumsy!” squeaked Hazel. The pale brown she-kit was halfway down the ladder. “I told you not to -- ” Then she stopped. Her huge blue eyes took in the spiky-furred silhouette of the fox, outlined against the sunset. Lit by the last rays of the dying sun, the hairs on the fox’s pelt looked as though they’d been dipped in blood. In a wavering voice, Hazel mewed, “M-Mommy? What’s that…?”
The fox’s head snapped up. Terror shrilled through every hair on Petalpaw’s pelt as the beast’s fathomless eyes locked on the tiny brown she-kit. A line of saliva trickled down the fox’s teeth and landed on the floor with a quiet splash.
Not Hazel. Not Hazel.
Then the fox charged.
A scream exploded out of Petalpaw’s throat as the russet blur raced at Hazel. The kit’s thin, terrified wail pierced Petalpaw’s heart, and she leaped to her paws, lunging at the fox. Claws extended, Petalpaw slashed at the creature’s flank, feeling blood speckle her paws. “Get away from her!” Petalpaw shrieked.
The fox snarled and stalked closer, pressing Petalpaw against the ladder. Her back scraped the horizontal branches and splinters stabbed at her pelt. Freezing, heart-stopping fear was coursing through her veins. She was drowning… again…
Petalpaw struck the fox’s muzzle as it tried to bite at her throat. Her heart thundered as she felt the yellow fangs tear through her fur, barely missing the skin. Luck wouldn’t keep her alive for long in a battle like this.
“Help!” she cried, clawing vainly at the fox’s face. Its dark eyes penetrated hers, cold and unfeeling, merciless and relentless.
Was this what Belladonna saw before she died?
Suddenly, a brown tabby blur cannoned into the fox’s flank. Scorchpaw hissed furiously and battered the russet creature with deadly hind paws. Gasping for breath, Petalpaw scrambled away, looking around frantically for Hazel. The light brown she-kit was clinging to the base of the ladder, staring at the fox with disbelieving eyes. Petalpaw darted forward and seized the little kit by the scruff. Ignoring Hazel’s terrified mewls, Petalpaw lurched up the ladder. Hazel’s dangling legs bumped against the rough wood, and once Petalpaw almost dropped her, but they made it safely to the loft.
“Stay there!” Petalpaw ordered a shaking, cowering Hazel. Hazel nodded vigorously, ears flat against her head, and pressed herself against the back wall of the loft.
Petalpaw then turned back toward the ladder. Scorchpaw was swiping bravely at the fox, but his attacks were growing weaker, and the brown tom stumbled backward as the fox dealt a hefty blow to his shoulder. Belly lurching, Petalpaw saw blood flow from the deep wound, trickling down Scorchpaw’s foreleg. Panic gripped her. Where are Graytail and Windpaw? Why aren’t they helping?
A sudden gray blur dashing across the battlefield answered her question. Graytail sprinted around the fox, swerving behind it to pick up some sort of bundle.
He’s not helping Scorchpaw? Petalpaw’s blood ran cold. Is Graytail using this as an opportunity to let him die?
Petalpaw’s incredulity gave way to a rush of understanding as the gray tom whirled around, a black tabby shape hanging from his jaws. He was carrying Flint.
“Up here!” Petalpaw yowled.
Graytail looked up at her shout. His eyes narrowed with determination, the LeafClan tom ran full tilt toward the ladder, clawing his way up the branches with astonishing speed. Flint tumbled from his jaws in a shivering heap of striped black fur. “Get with your littermates!” Graytail spat, fur bristling. “Stay out of the fight!”
“B-but April!” wailed Hazel. “Sh-she’s gone!”
Petalpaw inhaled sharply as another bolt of panic blasted through her. She stared wildly at Graytail. “Did you see her?” she demanded.
Eyes wide, Graytail shook his head.
Growling, Petalpaw padded to the edge of the loft, her claws sunk deep into the weathered wood. She tensed her muscles with a quick prayer to StarClan, then sprang from the ladder and into the fight. She heard a thump behind her as paws hit the ground and knew Graytail had followed. Up close, the fox was massive, a ferocious vixen. Her lips were drawn back in a snarl as she advanced on Scorchpaw, who was reluctantly giving ground. The brown tom looked exhausted; a wave of darkness swept over his amber eyes, dimming their normally glistening light.
“Help him!” Petalpaw shouted at Graytail. “I’ll look for April!” Without waiting for a response, Petalpaw darted away from the fox and slipped underneath the loft. The three barn cats were huddled in a clump of shivering fur, fear-scent emanating from their pelts. Apple’s face was buried in Stallion’s shoulder as terrified sobs wracked her body. Hay was pressed against the back wall, her claws unsheathed and gripping the ground, fur puffed out so she looked twice her size. But fear glittered in her eyes, and she was clearly afraid to charge into battle.
Despite the dangerous situation, Petalpaw managed to feel a twinge of annoyance at the cowering barn cats. “Get it together!” she snapped, skidding to a halt in front of them. “April is nowhere to be found, and you’re all hiding like a bunch of baby rabbits!”
“April’s gone?” Apple gasped, ignoring the insult as she lifted her head from Stallion’s shoulder fur. Her green eyes shimmered with tears. “We have to find her!”
“That’s what I’m saying!” Petalpaw growled impatiently. “Stick to the sidelines, out of the battle, and find that kit!”
Apple swallowed and glanced at her mate. “Stallion, I -- ”
“Do it,” the black tom meowed gruffly. “We have to find April.”
Apple gave a jerky nod and tottered shakily away, probing the stacks of hay for her daughter. Stallion did the same, heading in another direction. Hay glowered at Petalpaw, then slunk off to join her sister.
Petalpaw gave a weak, shuddering sigh. She was about to continue her part of the search when a sickening crack caused her head to snap up. Blood roaring in her ears, wondering frantically what she might find, Petalpaw whirled around to face the battlefield. The dusty barn floor was now dappled with red, and an iron tang stung Petalpaw’s nose, making her belly churn. The mixed scent of blood and fox was something she’d hoped fervently to never encounter again.
But here she was.
And once again, Petalpaw was staring at a bundle of brown fur, lying limp on the bloodstained ground. Her stomach heaved. Bile rose in her throat as she recognized the injured cat.
A large, russet shape was crouched over his body, back arched and fur spiked in a terrifying, demonic way. The fox swiped its tongue around its jaws, and Petalpaw could detect the pleasure in its deliberate movements.
StarClan, no… Please don’t… please don’t let him be dead…
“Hey!” Petalpaw screeched, not quite sure what she was doing, or planning on doing. She staggered forward in an awkward, rolling gait as wood splinters stabbed at her pads. The edges of her vision were fuzzy, a blurry red color just like the blood on the fox’s muzzle. Only the vixen remained in focus.
“Get away from him!” Petalpaw yowled, unsheathing her claws. She knew that the fox couldn’t understand. Although it was incapable of comprehending her words, the fox seemed to get the gist of it. The vixen gave a threatening growl and flattened her ears.
The look in the vixen’s eyes was a sick sort of triumph. With an almost mocking bark, she turned back to Scorchpaw’s lifeless body and bent her neck. With a thrill of terror, Petalpaw saw long, yellow fangs protrude from the fox’s mouth and plunge toward Scorchpaw’s throat.
“No!” she shrieked, lunging forward, but there was no way she would get there in time.
The world seemed to stop, but Petalpaw’s heart kept beating, the emotions kept raging inside of her. Fury and fear and regret and grief blazed like fire in her paws as she was rooted to the spot, staring at Scorchpaw, unable to look away as the SunClan tom met his demise.
StarClan, help, she begged her warrior ancestors. Please, StarClan…
Petalpaw wasn’t sure why, but she cared for this cat, the brown tabby tom of her enemy Clan who lay bleeding out in front of her, just like Belladonna. She knew his laugh and felt the rhythm of his breath and did not want to stand helplessly by as it grew shallower and shallower…
Suddenly the world sped up again; a battle cry exploded in Petalpaw’s ears and she watched in shock as a gray tabby tom with LeafClan scent on his pelt hurled himself at the fox.
Graytail barreled into the vixen’s flank, driving the breath from her lungs with an audible whooshing sound. While she was winded, Graytail gingerly lifted Scorchpaw by the scruff and dragged the SunClan apprentice toward the shelter of the loft. The brown tabby tom stirred feebly, and Graytail murmured something to him that Petalpaw couldn’t hear. Then, once Scorchpaw was safely behind the ladder, Graytail turned to face the fox.
The LeafClan’s blue eyes were full of flames. “I hate foxes,” he muttered through gritted teeth, with so much conviction that Petalpaw was taken aback. “Scavenging, cat-killing, bloody-furred menaces, that’s all they are.”
The intensity in Graytail’s voice was a little alarming, but it caused hope to flicker to life inside Petalpaw. With all of his rage, he’ll surely have the adrenaline needed for the battle.
The vixen and the tomcat regarded each other for a moment, mutual hatred burning in their eyes. Then, the vixen’s head turned a fraction of a mouse-length toward the other side of the barn. Petalpaw followed the fox’s hungry black gaze and saw Windpaw creeping along the edge of the wall, a tiny gray she-kit sheltering under his legs. April.
The fox’s eyes glinted with malicious excitement. It turned away from Graytail, and Petalpaw, feeling sick, knew exactly what it was thinking. Why go after a loud, snarling piece of prey that fought back fiercely when you could snag two smaller ones that couldn’t defend themselves as well?
“Windpaw, run!” Petalpaw cried. “I’ll distract it, you can get up the ladder!” There was a slightly hysterical note in her voice as it cracked. “Windpaw, what are you doing?”
The mottled gray tom was frozen, staring open-mouthed at the approaching fox. His blue eyes didn’t blink, they just looked straight ahead, straight into the endless black gaze of the fox, where the shadows knew nothing of mercy. His ragged breathing was the only sound that broke the stillness of the barn.
Petalpaw was cold. So cold, the kind of cold that seeped into a cat’s veins and purred silkily into their ear, Just give up. You’re giving up, you’re drowning, you can’t do anything…
She knew that Windpaw wouldn’t be able to move. She had known that the second the fox had shown up.
A stricken look clouded Windpaw’s brilliant blue eyes. Silhouettes seemed to dance in his irises, pictures and flashes of memories, recollections of poorly bandaged wounds still festering beneath the surface.
The blind love of a kit for his mother.
The blind trust that she could handle anything.
The realization that she couldn’t.
The moment when he realized that she would never take another breath.
Petalpaw could see it, all of it, in Windpaw’s eyes.
Is that what I looked like when I was drowning? Petalpaw wondered.
“Windpaw, you have to move,” she urged him again. “I know it’s hard, but you have to move.”
April whimpered and pressed against the wall, hiding in Windpaw’s mottled gray fur. The tom still didn’t move. The horror still didn’t leave his eyes.
The fox was closing in.
“Windpaw, you have to listen to me,” Petalpaw whispered. “Please.” She gazed at him imploringly. “I know it feels like you can’t, but you have to run. April’s life is at stake, and your own.”
Windpaw’s eyes glistened as tears pooled in them. “I can’t.” His voice sounded like a kit’s, frightened and vulnerable. “I can’t move, Petalpaw. I t-tried and I… I c-can’t… I keep s-seeing her…”
“You’re stronger than this,” Petalpaw rasped, although it felt like her heart was breaking. “I know you are.” It was all she had to offer. She threw herself at the mercy of StarClan, held up her words in trembling paws and prayed that Windpaw would listen.
The mottled gray tom closed his eyes and shielded April with his body. “I’m sorry it had to end this way,” he mewed quietly.
“Windpaw!” Petalpaw screamed, disbelief and shock boiling up inside her. “You can’t -- you have so much -- ”
She started to run, sprinting toward the fox, but she was too late. The russet demon was already airborne. The deadly whirlwind of snapping teeth and claws and bloodstained fur was going to devour Windpaw, just as it had taken his mother.
There was a piercing screech and a deafening caterwaul at the same time. The scent of blood washed over Petalpaw. Woozy, she crumpled to the ground, feeling tears roll down her cheeks.
“Windpaw,” she sobbed. “Windpaw.”
“Graytail,” whispered a hoarse voice, a familiar voice.
Petalpaw’s head snapped up. Ignoring her dizziness, she staggered over to the place Windpaw had been. Was that his voice? Oh, StarClan, please tell me I’m not imagining it…
Petalpaw blinked back tears and waited for her world to come into focus. Eventually, it did, and she was kneeling before a bundle of gray fur. Her breath caught in her throat and she started to choke. Windpaw?
But then there was warmth at her shoulder, and another pelt against hers, one she had found on the day she climbed out of the river.
“Windpaw?” she mewed.
He gave a crackly purr. “That’s me.”
Petalpaw was unprepared for the deluge of relief that gushed through her; it was a warm flood of contentment that coaxed heat back into her cold, fearful heart and sent sunshine bursting through her paws. She breathed in his scent; not quite rogue, nor LeafClan or MoonClan… it was a mix of all three. And it was one Petalpaw never wanted to forget.
But as the moment of fierce joy subsided, unease began to prickle at Petalpaw’s pads. Dread weighed her down like a rock in her belly. Wait… if Windpaw is right here, then who’s…
“No,” she whispered, the realization hitting her like a death blow. Horror surged through Petalpaw as she scrambled forward, ignoring the blood that pooled around her paws. She approached the unmoving lump of gray tabby fur, her throat closing up. Beneath the scents of blood and fox, she detected the smell of LeafClan.
“Graytail,” she mewled, prodding his flank gently. “Graytail!” she repeated, this time a little louder.
The gray tom stirred feebly and opened his sky-blue eyes to look at her. His face split into a painful smile. “Petalpaw,” he rasped.
“What in the name of StarClan were you thinking?” Petalpaw demanded. She had to speak harshly to hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes again.
Graytail blinked. “Saving three innocent cats,” he answered in a voice barely above a whisper.
“We can get goldenrod,” Windpaw meowed suddenly, determination in every word. “Don’t be a self-sacrificing mouse-brain. We can get herbs this time.” His eyes started to cloud with sorrow, but the gray tom made a visible effort to push it away. He stood and stared down at Graytail. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” With those last words, Windpaw charged out of the barn, running faster than any cat Petalpaw had ever seen.
Petalpaw’s gaze returned to Graytail. Sweet, compassionate, fatherly Graytail, leading the patrol only because he wanted to help. He was the first LeafClan cat that she had ever spoken to, the one she planned to hide behind when Briarstar’s temper exploded. So earnest in his willingness to help… and soon it would all be gone…
A gentle touch on her paw startled Petalpaw. She glanced down and saw Graytail’s dark paw resting on top of hers. She could just barely detect a faint pulse coming through his pads, and felt a small stab of panic. Windpaw won’t be back in time.
With a huge effort, Graytail turned his head toward Petalpaw. “Petalpaw.” His voice was barely more than a breath.
“Save your strength,” Petalpaw pleaded, but she knew he would disregard the warning.
As she had predicted, Graytail shook his head firmly. Pain tore at her heart with serrated claws as the bleeding tom continued. “You… you can choose your own path. I trust Scorchpaw, and I trust you. But I need to ask one thing of you; please take care of Windpaw.” Graytail’s eyelids started to slide shut. “Please,” the tom begged her. “Don’t forget about him.”
Petalpaw stared in horror as the LeafClan cat slowly slumped to the ground. “Graytail!” she meowed, panic spiking in every hair on her pelt. “I’m not losing another cat to StarClan-cursed foxes!”
Graytail’s eyes were completely shut now, his brow furrowed as he fought for breath while his life slowly ebbed, draining from his wounds. “Bella,” he choked, and with a final clench of his paw around hers, the LeafClan tom was gone.
There was not a glimmer of starlight, not a single silver wisp of something supernatural that might indicate Graytail’s spirit had passed on to StarClan. The LeafClan tom’s body was eerily still, blood oozing sluggishly from the wounds marking his pelt. Petalpaw tried to feel some satisfaction that the tom had not died in vain; the vixen lay beside him in death, each having killed the other. But she couldn’t summon any feeling of victory, only sorrow. And guilt.
I should have been there. I should have gotten there faster.
There was a quiet rustling thump. Petalpaw looked up, not even caring if she was met with a snarling badger or another fox. She was stuck in a trance of numb disbelief. Her mind simply refused to compute what had just happened, even though her eyes could see Graytail’s unmoving body and all the blood…
But it wasn’t a badger, or a fox, or an unfriendly rogue. It was Windpaw, standing alone at the entrance to the barn. His slim frame was outlined sharply against the sunset sky, which was no longer a pleasant gold. Now, all Petalpaw saw were clouds on fire, and blood spattering the heavens.
Windpaw stood rigid with shock, his blue eyes stretched as wide as they would go, staring at the crumpled gray form before him. His bundle of goldenrod was scattered all over the ground, abandoned.
Windpaw gave a tiny shake of his head, mouth open. Petalpaw could see tears beginning to glisten in his eyes, mimicking the starlight she’d been so sure would radiate from Graytail’s body. Windpaw’s mouth started to form a word, but no sound came out. The gray tom, chest heaving, hurried over to Graytail’s side. He pressed his ear against the LeafClan cat’s chest. Petalpaw could see his paws trembling.
Windpaw pulled back from the lifeless body and stared disbelievingly at Petalpaw. She glanced down at her paws, feeling hot tears swell in her eyes, then looked up to meet his painful gaze. She felt herself nod in response to his silent question, and she felt her heart crack open as Windpaw crumpled to the ground beside Graytail, burying his head in the gray tom’s fur.
There was betrayal in Windpaw’s every shudder, agony in every shake of his shoulders, fury and grief in every silvery teardrop that splashed onto Graytail’s cooling fur. Petalpaw crouched low to the ground as the wave of sadness swept over her, too.
Graytail’s death felt… wrong. Like he had been taken before he was ready, like some invisible claw had lifted him by the scruff of the neck, kidnapping him from his own life. It was so… Petalpaw searched desperately for the right word.
Sudden. It was sudden. Graytail had been torn from the world of the living too soon, too fast, too harshly.
“Mommy?” whispered a voice. Cold horror trickled down Petalpaw’s spine as her ears pricked at the sound. Hazel was sidling over to Graytail’s body, her pawsteps wavering. “Mommy, is Graytail okay?”
Apple inhaled sharply and streaked over to her daughter’s side. Gently, she dragged the pale brown she-kit away by the scruff. “He’s just sleepy, after all that fighting,” Apple murmured. The lie send shivers through Petalpaw’s whole body. He’s just sleepy…
“Look, he killed the fox!” Flint crowed, pattering forward excitedly. “Look at it!”
“Flint, stay back,” Apple snapped at her son, grabbing him by the scruff and sheltering him under her belly.
Flint stared up at his mother in confusion. “Why?”
“We need to let Graytail rest,” Apple explained quietly. “Come on, to the loft.” The brown she-cat shepherded her kits up the ladder, evading the questions they bombarded her with. That left April, sitting alone at Graytail’s head.
“April, you heard your mother,” Petalpaw whispered, taking a half-hearted step toward the quivering gray she-kit. “To the loft.”
April rounded on her, a blaze of fury in her eyes. Startled, Petalpaw took a step back. She’d never seen such emotion in a kit’s eyes before. “I’m not stupid,” April snarled. “I know Graytail isn’t sleeping, he’s dead! And it’s because of me!” Her last words ended in a shriek as she collapsed to the ground in a tantrum of self-loathing.
“Stop!” Petalpaw roared, her claws unsheathing. Blinded by her tears, she accidentally nicked the small kit’s ear. “Stop screaming!” Her words were mangled in a sob.
April stared up at her, eyes huge in terror. A small trickle of blood ran down her ear from where Petalpaw had accidentally scratched her. Guilt flooded Petalpaw, joining the deluge of anger and grief and regret that rushed through her veins in a burning tide of fire. It was too much… It was all too much.
“I can’t handle it!” Petalpaw screeched, dropping into a crouch and holding her head in her paws. Her claws extended and pricked at her cheeks, drawing small beads of blood. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. She wanted to run, but she was stuck. She wanted to flee her responsibilities but was bound to them permanently.
April backed away slowly, staring at Petalpaw with fear in her eyes, as though Petalpaw was just another fox. “Mommy?” she mewed, her voice quivering as she stumbled backward. At her daughter’s call, Apple descended from the ladder and hurried over to the dusty gray she-kit. With a glare at Petalpaw, the rogue mother picked April up by the scruff and carried her swiftly up the ladder, taking care to keep the kit facing away from Graytail’s body.
“Whoa, she slashed your ear right open!” Hazel gasped, examining her sister in shock. The little brown she-kit stared at Petalpaw with unconcealed terror. Guilt flooded Petalpaw as she turned away. She could still feel the kits’ incredulous gazes burning into her back as she sank to the ground.
The earth beneath her paws was warm and wet. Blood. Graytail’s blood. Petalpaw squeezed her eyes shut, feeling an exhausting wave of grief sweep over her, dragging her into darkness. She couldn’t move. The same thought kept repeating, over and over, in her otherwise empty head.
Graytail’s dead. Graytail’s dead. Graytail’s dead.
A hoarse whisper escaped her parted, bloodstained lips. “It’s my fault.” The numb disbelief that had gripped her was being overcome by guilt; guilt for lashing out at April, for wounding a kit, for being too slow and too stupid to help Graytail fight the fox.
I’m such a fool. Such a selfish, mouse-brained fool.
“Hey,” a gentle voice murmured in her ear. Warm fur brushed against hers. She inhaled shakily, taking in a familiar scent. Without opening her eyes, she knew that the tom’s pelt was a mottled gray color, that his eyes were as blue as the sky, and that his name was Windpaw. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” the tom continued quietly, his voice becoming bitter. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
Petalpaw cracked her eyes open a slit and looked at him blearily. His pelt was a gray smudge in her tears. “Windpaw, don’t,” she begged him. Don’t blame yourself. Please.
You can blame me, but please, please don’t blame yourself.
“StarClan c-cursed f-foxes,” Petalpaw sobbed, a vicious edge entering her voice. Fury pounded through her veins, crashing through her belly in a flood of red flames. It buried her guilt and shame and swamped her. It rose up inside, it was an internal fire, uncontrollable and indomitable. Her claws slid out with a quiet, ominous hiss. I’m going to kill every fox I see, she vowed silently. They will meet death shrieking for mercy, and Graytail and Belladonna will be avenged.
“Petalpaw!” Windpaw’s cry was a distant echo. “Petalpaw!”
Her eyes snapped fully open and she rose from the ground in one fluid motion, feeling rage course through her veins and into her unsheathed claws. Petalpaw stared down at their glittering points curiously; it was the first time she had felt… formidable. Dangerous. Deadly.
“Petalpaw, control yourself,” Windpaw growled, stalking up to her until they were nose-to-nose. Green eyes glared into blue. But slowly, slowly, the cerulean waves washed over Petalpaw, lapping softly at her face, quenching the burning sensation in her paws. She sighed shakily, not daring to look away from Windpaw’s calming eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and the anger drained from her body. Her graceful pose crumbled as she sat down heavily, retracting her claws. Petalpaw shook her head faintly and stared at her paws. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” Her voice trailed off as she shrugged hopelessly. But the casual gesture didn’t disguise the tremors running through her body. Fear scent rolled off her pelt in waves.
Petalpaw was afraid of herself.
What in StarClan did I become? she wondered uneasily, looking down at her sheathed claws with wariness. I was so, so angry… She recalled her unworthy thoughts and promises of revenge with a shudder. I was like Amberstar, she realized. I was walking the path between light and dark. It was a treacherous journey, she knew that, and many cats like Amberstar were foolish enough to choose the darkness.
I am no such fool, Petalpaw thought sharply. I will never walk a path of shadows like him.
But still, traces of the anger remained, lingering inside of her and casting a blood-red shadow over her heart.
“You can go wake Scorchpaw,” Windpaw meowed quietly. “I’m going to sit beside Graytail for a little while.”
Petalpaw dipped her head, feeling a fresh wave of sorrow. It pierced her pelt like icy water, but she managed to croak, “We should give him… a vigil. A warrior’s vigil, under the stars.” Her heart shattered into even smaller pieces as she imagined bidding Graytail a final farewell under the cold, dark night sky.
Windpaw nodded in solemn agreement and turned to face the dead warrior. His shoulders slumped under a burden of grief too heavy for any young cat to bear alone. With a shuddering sigh, Petalpaw turned away, unable to watch his silent pain. She scanned the barn for Scorchpaw. The brown tabby tom was right where he’d been left, in a disheveled pile of bloodstained fur. The sight of Scorchpaw’s limp body shot a surge of adrenaline through her veins, and she felt a little guilty at the newfound energy inside her. Graytail is dead, and all I can think about is Scorchpaw!
But Graytail gave his life to save Scorchpaw, Petalpaw reasoned, shoving back a pang of loss. It can’t have been for nothing! I have to make sure Scorchpaw made it!
She hurried over to her unmoving friend, panic mounting in her chest. Her stomach was a cloud of butterflies: wings frantically flapping, swerving and diving, spiraling toward the ground. Please let him be alive, please StarClan…
“Please,” Petalpaw mewed aloud as she crouched over Scorchpaw. The butterflies in her stomach whirled around in circles as she slowly pressed her ear to his chest. The deafening pounding of her own heart drowned out any sign that Scorchpaw’s was still beating. With trembling paws she nudged his uninjured shoulder. He didn’t stir. A wail building in her throat, she nudged him again, this time more forcefully.
His body jerked, paws churning feebly. Petalpaw’s breath caught in her throat as the brown tabby tom’s eyes fluttered open, glinting amber moons that fastened onto hers. “Am I… am I in StarClan?” he rasped.
Petalpaw shook her head. “No, you’re alive.”
Scorchpaw relaxed at her words. “Thank StarClan,” he breathed, wincing as he tried to move his injured shoulder. He drew in a hissing breath. “What happened with the fox?”
Petalpaw’s belly churned as she glanced at the blood glistening on his wounded shoulder. She swallowed the bile in her throat and croaked, “It’s… dead.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the rest: that Graytail was dead, too.
“What about Graytail?” Scorchpaw asked.
Petalpaw clamped her jaws shut and studied her paws, unsure how to respond. Was now the best time to tell Scorchpaw, when he was bleeding and vulnerable? What if he started to blame himself, just as Windpaw and Petalpaw were doing? And what if he felt so guilty that he lost the will to recover?
The anxious thoughts swirling around in Petalpaw’s head were brought to a screeching halt as Scorchpaw spoke again.
“He’s dead, isn’t he.”
Petalpaw froze. She avoided Scorchpaw’s burning amber gaze and frantically tried to put together a comforting speech, to feed the injured tom words of encouragement and tell of Graytail’s honorable last stand, but she came up empty. All she could do was shrug.
“Petalpaw, tell me the truth,” Scorchpaw pleaded.
Petalpaw reluctantly met his gaze. His amber eyes stared at her imploringly, and she whispered, “He’s dead.”
Scorchpaw bowed his head. Petalpaw hated seeing the apprentice look so lonely and despondent, with the scent of death and blood and fear choking the air around him.
“But he died like a true warrior!” Petalpaw added hastily, hurriedly, as though with extra words she could mend the damage caused by Graytail’s departure. If she spoke of his courage and nobility, surely that would lessen the blow?
It didn’t seem to work, not for her. It only made the pain worse. A good cat, a noble cat, had died, and there was nothing she could do to fix it.
Scorchpaw looked up at her, eyes full of unbridled emotion that she couldn’t quite name. It was anguish and pain and guilt, all blended together. Was it remorse?
“A true warrior,” the brown tabby echoed. He closed his eyes. “I’ll never be a true warrior.”
“Scorchpaw, that’s not true,” Petalpaw argued.
He opened his eyes and stared at her. Flames burned in their amber depths. “It is. I am a SunClan cat, a traitor to the warrior code. I can’t escape my Clan.”
“Stop,” Petalpaw ordered fiercely, forcing down the lump in her throat. “Your Clan doesn’t decide who you are. You do, and you’re no fox-heart.”
Scorchpaw gazed at her sadly. “Really?”
Petalpaw’s heart, broken as it was, gave a small flutter. “Really,” she promised. Trembling, she touched her nose to his cheek. Her muzzle came away stained red, but she didn’t care. “You’re alive, and that’s what counts. Now, let’s get your wounds treated. At moonhigh, we’ll hold Graytail’s vigil.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She cleared her throat. “Can you walk?”
“Y-yeah,” Scorchpaw stammered, slowly rising to his paws. He tottered forward for a few uncertain steps, then stumbled as he put weight on his wounded shoulder.
Petalpaw lunged forward to catch him. “Don’t be a proud mouse-brain,” she mewed. “You can lean on me, rest your shoulder.”
Scorchpaw glanced at her nervously. “Really?”
Petalpaw blinked at him. “Really.”
With a small, grateful smile, Scorchpaw leaned heavily on Petalpaw’s shoulder. She staggered under his weight, then righted herself. Slowly and unsteadily, the two apprentices shuffled back to Windpaw, who was still crouched beside Graytail’s body.
Who knew that one fox could cause so much destruction? Petalpaw thought sadly, gently helping Scorchpaw lower himself to the ground. She curled up next to him, swamped by a wave of exhaustion.
Quiet pawsteps sounded nearby, and a soft female voice spoke. “I can show you where to get herbs.”
“Thank you, Apple,” came Windpaw’s reply.
“Of course,” Apple murmured. There was a pause. “I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know him, but he seemed like a good cat. Was he your father?”
“No,” Windpaw answered. “But he felt like one.”
There was a brief moment of silence. Petalpaw assumed that Apple was nodding in acknowledgement. “You and your friends will need marigold or goldenrod.”
“I have the goldenrod,” Windpaw responded; there was a rustling sound as the gray tom prodded the leaves. “But we need cobwebs to stop the bleeding.”
Petalpaw’s awareness gradually faded as she slipped into shadows, the smell of goldenrod in her nose. The last thing she felt before sleep claimed her was Scorchpaw’s fur against hers.
* * * * *
Petalpaw gazed up at the sky. The cold night wind stung her face as she lifted her head to the stars. They glittered coldly, distant pinpricks of ice shedding silver light onto the somber group of cats below. Petalpaw felt a small stab of annoyance. Her ancestors felt so far away. Couldn’t they come down and give Petalpaw some closure? Couldn’t Graytail have a happy reunion as a glimmering spirit, his health and happiness restored?
That only happens in stories, Petalpaw thought irritably, twitching her ears. He will stand among StarClan; I just won’t see him ascend into the stars.
Loneliness engulfed her at the thought, and she turned to face her companions, seeking reassurance. Windpaw was crouched on the ground, a silent lump of gray fur radiating sorrow. He seemed to be taking it harder than she was, Petalpaw realized with a pang of guilt. Scorchpaw stood slightly apart from the group, his amber eyes unreadable. But the miserable slope of his shoulders indicated hidden grief.
Blurry silhouettes rested in a hesitant cluster outside of the three apprentices; that was Apple, Stallion, and Hay. The barn cats were clearly uncomfortable being so close to such a sad, sacred Clan ritual, so they kept their distance. Hay was scowling at Petalpaw, Scorchpaw, and Windpaw, Apple was watching anxiously, and Stallion stood protectively in front of his mate, a stoic expression on his face.
“It’s moonhigh,” Windpaw whispered. “It’s time.”
Petalpaw nodded in acknowledgement and padded forward. Her pawsteps were heavy, and it felt as though she was slogging through cold, thick mud. But eventually, she reached Graytail’s body.
The gray tabby LeafClan tom lay still in the cow pasture, his fur sleek and groomed, glimmering under the stars. It was difficult to find the blemishes on his pelt, but if one looked close enough, they’d see the deep throat wounds that had taken his life. The cool night breeze ruffled Graytail’s fur, and as it rippled, it looked as though he was breathing.
Petalpaw took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of the frigid air inside her lungs. She stared up at the stars, drawing strength from their light, and began to speak.
“Graytail was the first LeafClan cat I spoke to.” Her voice was small, echoing eerily around the empty pastures. “He was the one who comforted me and Windpaw when Belladonna died, and the one I trusted to protect me from Briarstar’s temper. He was a kindhearted cat, and I didn’t know him as well as I should have.” A note of deathberry bitterness entered her voice and she tried to push it away. “I was upset when he was chosen to lead the patrol, and we butted heads all throughout our trip. But every action that I thought was just another annoyance, he did for my safety and well-being.” She paused to swallow the lump in her throat, then continued. “He died a noble death, protecting the innocent.”
Scorchpaw bowed his head in acknowledgement. Petalpaw took a step back to allow Windpaw to come forward. The gray tom blinked at her gratefully and started talking.
“Graytail grieved with me during Belladonna’s death,” Windpaw meowed clearly. “He always offered a shoulder to lean on, even to his last breath. He died to let us live, and I will be forever thankful.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I hope he finds good hunting in -- in StarClan.” He retreated to the shadows with a nod to Scorchpaw.
The brown tabby tom glanced nervously at Windpaw before padding forward and sitting down. He regarded Graytail’s limp body with sadness in his eyes. “I didn’t know Graytail well,” the SunClan apprentice admitted. “But he decided to accept me, and fought to the death to protect me. The bravery it takes to do that astounds me, especially since he chose to defend a SunClan cat when it is well-known that my Clan is untrustworthy.” He sighed. “I wish I could have known him better.”
The same wish echoed in Petalpaw’s head. She nodded at Scorchpaw’s words and stepped forward again, into a shaft of moonlight. “Graytail, we wish you well on your journey to StarClan,” she meowed softly. “May you have good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.” A single tear rolled down her cheek as she recited the words of the ancient ritual. Then, she pressed her nose into Graytail’s fur. The eerie stillness of his body and the lack of heat was unnerving, but she was determined to remain by his side until the sun rose again. After everything Graytail had done for them, the noble tom deserved it.
Though her eyes were closed, Petalpaw was aware of Windpaw settling down on Graytail’s other side. The hesitant pawsteps of Scorchpaw sounded in her ears, and the brown tabby tom eventually lay down beside her, his warm pelt in stark contrast to Graytail’s cold one. Petalpaw found herself leaning into his flank as her consciousness started to slip away.
Graytail. The thought was a mere breath. Graytail, if you can hear me, I hope you’ve found StarClan. I hope you are surrounded by the ones you love, just as I hope to be.
“No.” Petalpaw pushed the mouse away and rested her chin on her paws.
“Petalpaw, you have to eat,” Scorchpaw argued, shoving the mouse back at her.
She blinked at him dully. “Why? So I can trudge along for another moon? So I can risk more lives?” Her voice was as rough as rock.
“Stop it,” Scorchpaw growled, slamming his paw down beside the mouse. Its small, warm body jiggled enticingly on the quivering ground, but Petalpaw ignored the pangs of hunger and turned her head away.
“Graytail is dead, and I was too stupid to save him,” she mumbled, closing her eyes. Hopelessness tugged at her bones as the memory replayed itself in her mind. Scorchpaw, unconscious. Windpaw, wounded. April, trapped. Graytail…
Dead, dead, dead.
“Petalpaw, we’re leaving tomorrow, and you have to keep your strength up!” Scorchpaw pointed out, nudging the mouse closer to her muzzle. “You’re our leader, now that Graytail’s gone. You have to be ready to lead.”
His words caused a heavy, unwieldy burden to materialize out of thin air and settle onto Petalpaw’s shoulders. It felt like she was trying to balance a log on her back; the branches dug into her spine and her shoulders burned from the strain. She squeezed her eyes shut harder, unwilling to face her new responsibilities.
“Petalpaw, come on,” Scorchpaw pleaded, a desperate note entering his voice. “Please, you’re scaring me.”
A pang of guilt echoed around Petalpaw’s shadowy heart like a droplet of water splashing into a silent pool. She pictured Scorchpaw’s earnest, worried face, those amber eyes full of concern and warmth and encouragement…
“I’m sorry,” she mewed, opening her eyes. She blinked forlornly at Scorchpaw. “I just… it’s hard to lose Graytail. He was… he… he always seemed to know what he was doing, and everything he did was for our safety. How can I live up to that? How can I lead our patrol without falling short of Graytail’s standards?” She shook her head miserably. “I don’t know… I feel so lost.” She glanced at Scorchpaw uncertainly, feeling as vulnerable as a newborn kit separated from its mother. What was he going to say? She’d never confided in him so deeply before; what if she’d said something wrong?
Scorchpaw sighed and sat down next to her. “It’s hard to meet other cats’ expectations when they set them so high,” he murmured quietly. “But Graytail will be proud of you no matter what.” A note of bitterness entered his words, but the brown tabby tom made a visible effort to force it away. “You will be just as good a leader as he was. And I’ll support you if you need it.”
“When I need it,” Petalpaw corrected him. “I’m going to screw up sometime, I just know it.” The thought sent a wave of panic through her veins. One mistake could have terrible consequences; one false move could result in death. And now that she had two other cats’ lives in her paws, the stakes were even higher, and the risks were terrifying.
“Calm down,” Scorchpaw soothed her, resting his tail on her trembling shoulders. “You haven’t done anything yet. We haven’t even left the barn! Focus on getting your strength up.” Once more he offered her the mouse, staring at her pleadingly. “Eat.”
Petalpaw gazed at him anxiously. “But what if I -- ”
“Just eat. Here, we can share.” Scorchpaw bent his neck to tear a small strip of meat from the mouse, then nudged the rest toward her. Reluctantly, she lowered her head and took a bite. A comforting warmth rippled through her. The succulent prey brought back a flood of memories, pleasant ones, that she’d nearly forgotten. Watching Icekit attempt his flea-brained plan to leap into the fresh-kill pile, laughing with Darkkit as they shared a mouse between them, listening to the elders’ stories as the old cats divided up a blackbird.
All of it is MoonClan…
Slowly, steadily, determination began to trickle back into her heart, forming rivulets of courage that gradually gathered in strength until her soul roared with anticipation. Petalpaw sprang to her paws, wincing at the stiffness in her unused muscles. She took in a deep breath, finally daring to immerse herself in the real world again. It was painful -- death, wounds, illness -- but the agony strengthened her resolve. The way forward was crystal-clear: tomorrow they would leave the barn and continue their journey.
She blinked and looked up at Scorchpaw. “Yes?”
The SunClan apprentice shuffled his dark brown paws, nervousness evident in every prickling hair on his pelt. “Do you… do you want to come hunting with me?”
Petalpaw raised her eyebrows. “We already have prey,” she meowed coolly, although inside, she was shrieking incoherently and running in circles. Graytail’s warning flashed through her head, the words rushing past her ear, but she banished it with one flick of her tail. Just let yourself be happy, she told herself firmly. What’s the harm in that?
But Graytail is dead and he told me not to --
Graytail would want me to be happy.
But I’m betraying his trust --
That makes it worse!
“Um, I just thought it would be fun… sorry, never mind…” Scorchpaw mumbled, looking mortified.
Petalpaw muttered a curse under her breath. “I didn’t mean I didn’t want to!” she told him hastily. “Yes, I want to come hunting!” Her heart pounded. Am I going against Graytail’s wishes? He did die to save Scorchpaw, so doesn’t that mean Graytail accepted him? Does that mean it’s okay for me to --
Great StarClan, Petalpaw, it’s only hunting!
Scorchpaw offered her a rare smile. The sight warmed her heart. The poor tom was always lonely, out of place because of his SunClan roots. Maybe she could change that.
“There are mice in the hay bales,” she suggested, breaking the ensuing silence in a slightly awkward voice.
Scorchpaw hesitated, glancing at his paws. His gaze kept darting to her face, as though he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Uh, actually, I was thinking… we could… go outside? To hunt?”
Petalpaw’s heartbeat quickened. “Er… yeah, that’s fine,” she replied quickly. “Y-you can lead the way!”
Scorchpaw’s eyes glinted. “Don’t worry, no mange-pelted foxes will get past me!” The tom whirled around and bounded out of the barn.
Petalpaw gave a shaky laugh. Truthfully, it wasn’t the foxes that made her nervous…
She paused to give her chest fur a few brisk licks, smoothing down the straying hairs. Soon her pelt was sleek and shining, almost abnormally so. Embarrassment sent heat flooding into her ears. I’m such a moony-eyed mouse-brain! she thought. Now I look too well-groomed, and he’ll know that I did it to look nice on our hunt, how shallow is that? She was ashamed of her own vanity. How can I fix it…? Oh, I’ll just mess it up a little! Surprised by her brilliant stroke of genius, Petalpaw ruffled the fur on her chest so that it was more natural-looking.
Ugh, I look like a bird preening its feathers! She shook her head at her own foolishness with a sigh.
“Petalpaw, you coming?” came Scorchpaw’s voice.
“Yeah!” she called back, her voice higher than normal. She cleared her throat. “Er… yeah.” With one last shake of her pelt, she trotted out of the barn, into the cool twilight air.
Scorchpaw was a black silhouette against the fading lilac-gray sky. A pawful of stars twinkled above his head in a perfect arc. Petalpaw inhaled sharply. Is that a sign? It’s a sign, it has to be one!
But… of what?
“Are you ready to hunt?” Petalpaw asked instead, her breath billowing in white clouds against the darkening sky.
Scorchpaw nodded with an odd air of absentmindedness.
“Do you have any particular place in mind?” Petalpaw prompted him.
Scorchpaw nodded distractedly. With a flick of his tail, the brown tabby tom started padding away through the starlit pastures. His pelt quickly melted into the shadows and Petalpaw hastened to catch up.
“Where are we going?” she pressed. His silent air of mystery was intriguing, but also slightly annoying. Come on, Scorchpaw, tell me something! she thought frustratedly.
Scorchpaw’s eyes glowed through the gathering darkness as he glanced briefly back at Petalpaw. He tipped his head to the side, and Petalpaw realized that he was pointing to a hill. In the glimmering, silver starlight, the hill looked like the crest of a giant wave, tipped with frosty grass.
“You want to hunt up there?” Petalpaw asked incredulously. “I don’t know if there will be much prey…”
“I want to show you something,” Scorchpaw meowed quietly.
“S-so we’re not hunting?” Petalpaw squeaked, cursing her voice for cracking. Her pulse quickened; she could feel it fluttering rapidly in her paws. “Wh-what -- ”
“Come on,” Scorchpaw mewed, jerking his head at the hill again. “It’s the tallest one around, it’s perfect.”
Petalpaw watched him nervously as he started to climb the slope. Would Graytail support this? she wondered anxiously. Grief washed over her in an overwhelming wave as the dead tom’s name appeared in her thoughts. He isn’t here to tell me what to do… what choices are good… which ones are bad…
She looked up at the twilight sky and sought out the few stars that glittered between the approaching clouds. Is that you, Graytail? she asked silently. There was no response, but she continued anyway. If you’re there, if you’re listening… Am I doing the right thing? Am I free to trust Scorchpaw, and am I free to lo --
She cut off her thoughts right then and there. You’re being a presumptuous flea-brain! she scolded herself sternly. You don’t “love” Scorchpaw, and he certainly doesn’t “love” you!
Somehow, the thought made her sad. Her whiskers drooped in disappointment, as though Scorchpaw had rejected her himself.
You just have a shallow crush on him, Petalpaw told herself harshly. On a SunClan cat! You’re a disgrace to MoonClan! What would Ravenstar think? Why are you going around throwing yourself at every tom that comes by? Why do you think about stupid Scorchpaw all the time?
Each word was another thorn impaled in her heart. She hung her head miserably, just wanting to curl up and disappear, to hide from her problems… and from Scorchpaw. Lonely, handsome, mysterious Scorchpaw, who was waiting for her to join him on a starlit walk across the rolling hills…
Shut up! the rational part of Petalpaw’s mind screamed. You can’t trust a SunClan cat! Briarstar’s, Thistleheart’s, Graytail’s, and Windpaw’s faces appeared in her thoughts, their mouths opening to form the words.
You can’t trust a SunClan cat. Can’t trust him, can’t trust…
“Enough,” Petalpaw hissed aloud, cold venom in her voice. The thoughts seemed to scowl at her mutinously, then stomped over to the sidelines of her mind. She lifted her chin to gaze at Scorchpaw. The night wind, bringing the scent of leaf-bare, ripped at her soft pelt, but with one deep breath, she started up the hill.
Every pawstep brought her closer to the sky. The heavens were darkening, but the accumulating stars balanced out the shadows with their light. Somehow, they didn’t seem so cold and far away anymore, like they had on the night of Graytail’s vigil. Despite the frigid breeze, Petalpaw was warm, as she had a flame of hope flickering to life in her heart.
StarClan is out there. StarClan is really out there.
They’re so close…
Petalpaw stopped at the crest of the hill and gazed up in wonder at the stars. Tentatively, she reached out a shaking paw toward them.
… Close enough to touch…
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Scorchpaw murmured.
Petalpaw stifled a startled yelp as the brown tabby tom settled down beside her. His muzzle was pointed upward at the brilliant display of galaxies above them, the swirling indigo tendrils and purple splashes, shimmering in the blackness.
“It really is,” she whispered, heart fluttering as she took in the sight. Nothing could quite compete with a sky full of stars. The vastness of its unbridled beauty made it indomitable.
The cold wind rushed pleasantly against her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, feeling like a bird gliding on an updraft.
“Amberstar turned his back on the stars,” Scorchpaw breathed. “How could he do such a thing? What kind of cat could turn their back on this?”
Petalpaw opened her eyes and looked at him. The brown tabby tom’s usually lonely face was full of hope and wonder as his fur shone silver in the starlight. His amber eyes gazed up at the endless expanse of sky, not noticing her staring at him.
“I don’t know,” she replied, still looking at him. “I’m glad you haven’t.”
Scorchpaw turned to face her and seemed startled to see that she was staring directly into his eyes. He opened his mouth, as though about to say something, then closed it. Amber eyes darted over a pale gray face, and green eyes studied brown tabby. Two hearts skipped the very same beat at the very same time. Neither cat had any words to offer, no witty remarks to break the silence.
They were just two cats breathing, two hearts beating, two minds racing under a sky full of stars.
Should I say something? Petalpaw thought nervously. Should I wait for him to initiate a conversation? Should I say something deep?
She couldn’t come up with anything deep or inspiring at the moment. Petalpaw cursed silently at her own awkwardness.
Scorchpaw spoke first, thank StarClan. If she’d had any longer to deliberate whether or not to make a comment, she’d probably start babbling nonsense. But Scorchpaw’s words made her freeze.
“I like being with you.”
Petalpaw blinked, not quite sure she’d heard right. What in StarClan -- did he just say that?
“Here, under the stars,” Scorchpaw continued, “I feel like I can just forget everything else. I am not SunClan, and Amberstar isn’t my leader. I don’t feel the scars on my face or the weight on my shoulders. I’m just… Scorchpaw.” His claws traced circles absentmindedly through the tufts of grass. “I like being that way.”
Petalpaw struggled to keep her breathing even as she frantically tried to scavenge a response from the disorganized tendrils of her mind. But the pounding of her heartbeat and the roaring of the blood in her ears made it impossible to concentrate.
He likes being with me. Me, Petalpaw. Me. Me. Me.
She couldn't quite believe it. It was too good to be true.
I always thought nobody would ever look at me. Not beside my siblings, thoughtful Darkkit and Icekit with his hilarious shenanigans. Not beside Windpaw, with his astounding intelligence. Not beside Aspenpaw, with her effortless beauty and charm. And certainly not in a crowd at the Gathering, with so many other cats to choose from.
But you’re looking at me.
Why? In the name of StarClan, why?
That was what she wanted to say. She wanted it desperately. But the words wouldn’t come. They just cycled around in her head, over and over. She kept reciting them, but never said a word.
I can jump into a freezing river and plunge off the edge of a waterfall, but I can’t say something meaningful to Scorchpaw. Oh, StarClan, have mercy.
“Sorry,” Scorchpaw meowed quickly. The brown tabby tom stood up abruptly. “I should’ve realized that you felt differently -- I -- I’ll just leave -- ”
“No!” Petalpaw blurted, springing to her paws and blocking his path with her tail. “No,” she repeated, more quietly this time. “I’m sorry, I just… I’m not… I can’t say things like that. I don’t… I’m just not brave enough. I’ll die for my Clan in a heartbeat, but having deep conversations with my friends? Not my skill set.”
“So we’re friends?” Scorchpaw asked softly. Starlight glimmered faintly in his amber eyes.
Petalpaw couldn’t look away. She couldn’t move. “If you want to be,” she whispered.
Scorchpaw hesitated, then nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” Petalpaw responded.
“Or…” Scorchpaw’s voice trailed off and he stared at the ground.
“Or what?” Petalpaw asked, heart thundering. Thoughts whirled around in her head as she searched his amber gaze for answers. I’m so shallow -- what’s he going to say -- I know what he’s going to say -- don’t be such a flirtatious mouse-brain -- I can like who I want -- not a SunClan cat -- what’s he going to say?
Scorchpaw sighed. “I don’t know.”
Petalpaw stifled a sigh of her own and replied, “Should we… get on with the hunting, then?”
“Oh,” Scorchpaw mewed. “Well… I actually… wasn’t planning on going hunting in the first place.” He glanced at her nervously. “I just wanted to talk to you up here.”
I’m so shallow…
Petalpaw took a shaky step in his direction.
What am I thinking?
Scorchpaw’s from SunClan.
She could see the scars on the tom’s face again.
I’m such a moony-eyed featherbrain…
She was a whisker away from his muzzle.
A flash of light in her peripheral vision stopped Petalpaw from making any risky decisions. She jerked her head away from Scorchpaw’s, glad to have an excuse to retreat. Her eyes found a streak of brightness in the night sky. For a fleeting moment it was there, sparkling against the black backdrop of the clouds, and then it was gone. A falling star.
Petalpaw watched in wonder as more followed the first, until it seemed as though the sky was raining silver flowers. All around them the stars plummeted, bathing them briefly in white light.
“Is StarClan falling?” Scorchpaw asked breathlessly, standing up taller to confront the phenomenon.
For the first time since Graytail’s death, Petalpaw felt her lips curve into a smile. Her jaw ached from the strain; she’d gotten out of practice in the wake of the LeafClan tom’s demise. “No,” she told Scorchpaw. The falling stars were reflected magnificently in his amber eyes. “They are watching over us.”
Scorchpaw gazed up at the constellations adorning Silverpelt. “I hope they’re proud of me.” Grief was raw in his voice.
“Of course they are,” Petalpaw assured him. “Why in StarClan wouldn’t they be?”
Scorchpaw offered her a sad smile. “Thanks, Petalpaw. I’m glad… I’m glad you ran blindly through the forest and crossed the SunClan border.”
Petalpaw wrinkled her nose, recalling the memory. She’d been filled with so much indignation and fear that it had blinded her as she stumbled through LeafClan territory, accidentally trespassing on SunClan land. “You nearly ripped me to shreds,” she teased.
Scorchpaw had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It was instinct.”
Petalpaw gave a mrrow of amusement. “Instinct to tear my pelt off?”
Scorchpaw purred. “Only half of it; I wouldn’t want to subtract too much from your good looks.”
Petalpaw laughed. Inside, her brain was spinning in circles.
He just called me pretty.
“Should we get back to the barn?” Scorchpaw suggested, when she didn’t say anything.
Petalpaw blinked. “Y-yeah,” she meowed dazedly.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Scorchpaw reminded her as they slowly got to their paws and began padding down the hill to the barn. “Are you excited?”
“Excited isn’t the right word for it,” Petalpaw answered honestly. “I’m feeling hopeful, but I don’t have much energy…”
“You’ll regain it in no time,” Scorchpaw reassured her, nudging her shoulder in a friendly way. Her fur sparked and tingled where his pelt had made contact with hers.
“Thanks,” Petalpaw murmured, not sure what else to say.
“I’m glad that I met you, Petalpaw,” Scorchpaw told her as they stood together one last time outside the barn before heading their separate ways. “And I’m glad that you’re my friend.”
“Me too,” Petalpaw responded quietly.
Scorchpaw smiled at her. “Good night, Petalpaw.” Hearing her name on his tongue sent out small bursts of fire in a chain reaction under her pelt.
“Good night, Scorchpaw,” Petalpaw replied.
“You’re leaving?” Apple asked.
Petalpaw dipped her head in affirmation. “Yes.”
Apple’s round, usually cheerful face fell at Petalpaw’s response. “Oh,” she murmured. “I’d gotten used to having you Clan cats around here. The barn will feel so quiet without you!”
“I’m sure the kits will make extra noise to make up for it,” Windpaw assured her, his whiskers twitching with amusement.
“The kits!” Apple exclaimed, her tail flicking nervously. “How am I going to break the news to them? They love your games, Windpaw.”
“Break what to us?” a small, high-pitched voice demanded. Hazel scrambled out from behind a hay bale. A pair of black-tipped ears emerged from the golden stalks, and Flint leaped out after his sister.
“Kits,” Apple meowed slowly, “there’s no easy way to say this, but…”
“The Clan cats are leaving,” came April’s voice from above. Petalpaw, startled at the kit’s sudden interjection, glanced up; the dusty gray she-kit was perched on the highest branch of the ladder, her tail twitching.
“Wh-what?” Flint blubbered, just as Hazel wailed, “No, Windpaw promised us badger rides!”
Apple shot her gray-furred daughter a disapproving glare. “April, I was trying to salvage their feelings! What did I say about being blunt?”
“That it can cause as much damage as a claw,” April recited in a bored voice.
“Exactly. And what did I say about interrupting?”
“Not to do it.”
“Good,” Apple huffed, turning to Hazel and Flint. “Now apologize to your littermates. Now.”
Sullenly, April slouched down the ladder and stalked over to her upset littermates. “I’m sorry for telling the truth,” she muttered, then sat down with an air of authoritative finality.
“April, a real apology,” Apple growled in a warning tone of voice.
April scowled at her mother before meowing mechanically, “I’m sorry for interrupting and being blunt. I can see that it has had a drastic effect on you, and I won’t do it again.”
“Wh-what does d-drastic mean?” Flint stammered.
“It’s a type of stick, mouse-brain,” Hazel told him matter-of-factly. April’s shoulders were shaking as she tried and failed to suppress a laugh.
Flint turned to his mother, a pleading look on his small, striped face. “Mommy, Windpaw said that we’d get a badger ride before they left. Can we? Can we?”
“Of course,” Apple purred. “Don’t take long, though; the Clan cats have to leave very soon.”
Flint gave a shriek of delight and bounced over to Windpaw. “Badger ride!” the tom-kit squeaked excitedly. With a sigh, Windpaw lowered himself into a crouch and allowed the kit to scramble onto his back. Then the mottled gray tom straightened up, causing Flint to squeal.
“I’m a big badger!” Windpaw growled. “And I’ve come to eat you!”
“Can’t eat me!” Flint taunted him. “I’m up here, you can’t get me!”
“Are you sure?” Windpaw asked, a grin unfurling on his face. He lifted his right foreleg and stomped forcefully. Flint yowled in surprise and rocked from side to side, eventually steadying himself by latching onto great tufts of Windpaw’s fur.
Hazel seemed to realize that she was missing out on good fun. “Me too!” she ordered. “I wanna badger ride, too!”
Windpaw waited patiently as Hazel clambered onto his back. Then, the gray tom began stomping around the barn, his heavy pawsteps shaking the ground. Hazel and Flint yowled happily as they clung to his swaying pelt.
Apple watched them play, a sad expression on her face. “I hope you find your Clan on your travels,” she murmured. “The kits and I will miss you.”
“Thank you,” Petalpaw meowed. She took a moment to gaze at Windpaw and the kits, laughing together as he tried to shake them from his back. A pang of wistfulness seized her heart.
What I wouldn’t give to be that young again… to turn back time… and prevent all of this from happening…
She glanced at Scorchpaw out of the corner of her eye. He was looking away with an expression that read, I know you’re looking at me but I’m pretending I don’t see it. Petalpaw purred in amusement and returned to watching the kits frolic.
But if I altered my past, I wouldn’t be where I am now.
Graytail wouldn’t be dead, Belladonna wouldn’t be dead, MoonClan would be safe, and I’d be with my kin, another part of her mind pointed out. I would never fall in the river, never risk drowning, never be hunted by a SunClan patrol. I wouldn’t have faced so much death and destruction.
But… I wouldn’t have met Windpaw. Or Graytail. Or Scorchpaw.
But there would be no pain. I would know no loss.
But I would know nothing of friendship.
I’d have my kin!
I’m glad that I fell into that river. I’m glad that I crawled out on SunClan land. I’m glad that I met that patrol.
StarClan gave me a painful path, but I walked it with courage. And now I’m here.
Surrounded by death?
No. Surrounded by friends.
“Windpaw,” Petalpaw mewed softly, “it’s time to go.”
* * * * *
Morale was high as Petalpaw led the way across the moor. Scorchpaw padded on her left side, Windpaw on her right. Although the wind was stiff and carried an ominous chill, Petalpaw took pleasure in the rays of watery sunshine that illuminated the path ahead of them. The shadow of Graytail’s death still lingered, but the weather was so perfect that it was difficult to be unhappy.
“Leaf-bare is approaching,” Windpaw murmured on Petalpaw’s right. The gray tom frowned at the horizon, his blue eyes dark. “We should find MoonClan before the first snow hits.”
Petalpaw stifled a groan. It seemed that the good weather wasn’t affecting Windpaw as it had affected her. “We have plenty of time before the first snowfall,” Petalpaw assured him impatiently. “And there’s no way it can be that bad.”
Windpaw shot her an annoyed look, which was a weird expression for the smart, funny tom. “We’ll lose the scent in the snow, and it will make traveling harder. Not to mention the lack of prey and herbs.”
Petalpaw rolled her eyes. “Just relax a little, okay? If we keep up the pace, we’ll find MoonClan in no time.”
“Relax?” Windpaw asked incredulously. “We’re in unknown territory, all alone! Three apprentices! It’s a wonder we’re alive!”
“Don’t be such a scaredy-mouse,” Petalpaw snorted. “Just one paw in front of the other, that’s all you need to know.”
“What about unfriendly cats?” Windpaw demanded. “What about badgers? Have you forgotten foxes already?” Petalpaw flinched at his accusatory tone of voice, but the gray tom kept going. “And hunting? We’ve only had a moon of training! How are we supposed to feed ourselves through leaf-bare, especially when there’s less prey?”
“Please stop bickering,” Scorchpaw begged them. The brown tabby tom looked exhausted; dark circles rested under his dull amber eyes. “Please, it’s driving me crazy.”
“Sorry,” Petalpaw muttered. “Windpaw’s sorry, too.”
“Excuse me?” Windpaw meowed sharply. “I didn’t ask you to speak for me. I can do that myself, thanks.”
“Oh, I should have remembered,” Petalpaw grumbled under her breath, twitching her tail in irritation. He’s being so angsty lately, it’s getting on my nerves… I’ve refrained from biting his tail off for too long now…
“What’d you say?” Windpaw asked innocently, anger thinly concealed beneath his honeyed words.
“Nothing,” Petalpaw replied icily. She glared at the mottled gray tom, tail switching back and forth. Annoying furball!
Windpaw’s expression seemed to return the silent insult. He narrowed his sky-blue eyes at Scorchpaw, who took a half-hearted step in front of Petalpaw, then whirled around and stomped away. Petalpaw sighed heavily as she watched the gray tom storm in the opposite direction.
“Sorry,” she mumbled to Scorchpaw.
Scorchpaw nudged her shoulder. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get to hang out with the best she-cat in the world,” the brown tabby tom meowed in a teasing voice.
Petalpaw’s cheeks were on fire as she looked at the ground, determinedly avoiding Scorchpaw’s amber gaze. Despite his teasing tone, Petalpaw wondered if his words had an element of truth in them… that Windpaw was jealous…
Don’t be silly, she told herself. Windpaw’s your friend. And that’s all he’ll ever be. Plus, he has Aspenpaw to keep him company. Once he goes back to LeafClan, that is. Despite her newfound… friendship… with Scorchpaw, Windpaw’s decision to stay with LeafClan still hurt.
A twinge of uncertainty made the fur along her spine prickle. If Windpaw gets jealous enough, will he resort to drastic measures…?
An image of the mottled gray tom snarling as he lunged at Scorchpaw with unsheathed claws flashed through Petalpaw’s head. She shivered as the very un-Windpaw-like expression darkened her friend’s face, and felt a rush of relief when the brief thought vanished.
He’d never do that, Petalpaw consoled herself. He’s a good cat, loyal and true.
But the fear still stirred within her chest. Any cat, no matter how pure of heart, can become evil with the right motivation… Right?
“Hey!” Windpaw called, startling Petalpaw out of her brooding thoughts. “Look at that!”
Petalpaw exhaled quietly and followed the tom’s blue gaze. Before them lay a vast collection of square buildings; a massive patchwork of Twoleg dens with Thunderpaths as veins. Petalpaw stared at it, speechless.
“A Twolegplace!” Scorchpaw gasped.
Windpaw’s tail switched back and forth. “We know.”
Petalpaw, ignoring their bickering, finally found her voice again. “It’s… huge…” She shook her head, stunned by the enormity of the Twolegplace. “Twolegs… built all this…?”
“Using building-monsters,” Windpaw explained knowledgeably. “They have shiny yellow pelts and huge, sharp claws that can move mountains.”
Petalpaw shook her head again, unable to get over her shock. “Why?” she asked.
“I guess… it’s their way of building dens,” Windpaw mused. “Instead of brambles or gorse, they use stone… it must make them much sturdier…”
“Please tell me we’re going around it,” Scorchpaw begged. “Twolegplaces are hives of kittypets and strays… I’ve heard that each Twoleg den has a monster nest!”
Petalpaw shivered at the thought. She lifted her chin to sniff the air, pleading silently for the MoonClan scent to veer away from the Twolegplace, but…
“I don’t smell anything,” she mewed in a small voice. Panic began to stir inside of her chest, making her heart gallop.
Oh StarClan, please tell me we haven’t lost the trail! Not now!
“I don’t smell anything,” Petalpaw repeated, as though reciting the words would somehow jinx them, and that MoonClan scent would be carried to her nose on the breeze. But heavy disappointment settled down on her, swallowing her high spirits from earlier.
The MoonClan scent is gone.
As Petalpaw dropped into a crouch and buried her head in her paws, she heard Windpaw and Scorchpaw pacing around and sniffing the air like their lives depended on it. I don’t know why they bother, she thought glumly. We’ve lost it. For good this time.
There had been brief moments along the way when they’d lost the MoonClan scent, but the patrol always found it again within a few heartbeats. But now… it was as though MoonClan had been wiped from the face of the earth, leaving an abruptly-stopped scent trail and a miserable Petalpaw behind.
“Wait,” Windpaw meowed. Petalpaw pricked her ears as the gray tom continued. “The scent may not be gone… it may just be hidden under the Twolegplace scents.”
“Yeah!” Scorchpaw agreed hastily. “We have to keep going!”
Windpaw glowered at him. “We can’t afford to be too rash,” the gray tom cautioned.
You’re one to talk, Petalpaw thought spitefully, but said nothing except, “You can lead the way.”
Windpaw looked at her with a haughty tilt to his chin. The mottled gray tom spun around with a wave of his tail and started marching swiftly toward the tangle of Twoleg dens. Petalpaw felt a wave of relief as she stepped back, releasing the burden of leadership that Graytail had left her with. She sighed and got slowly to her paws, quickly refusing Scorchpaw’s offer to help.
It’s exhausting, leading a patrol of three cats, Petalpaw thought wearily as she and Scorchpaw padded after Windpaw. Great StarClan, I wouldn’t want to be the leader of an entire Clan!
She was content just to pad beside Scorchpaw, following another cat who knew what he was doing. At least, she assumed Windpaw knew what he was doing… her paws itched to take control again, just in case Windpaw started to mess up their mission… but the thought of striding at the head of the patrol again made Petalpaw want to curl up in a ball.
“We’ll find them,” Scorchpaw assured her.
Petalpaw smiled at him. His amber eyes glowed against his brown tabby fur like twin fireflies. “Thanks.”
Windpaw coughed, but it sounded suspiciously like, “Fox-heart!”
Petalpaw glared at him. “You can keep your stupid thoughts to yourself!” she snapped, feeling annoyance prickle under her pelt. Why did he have to ruin a perfectly nice moment?
“My thoughts aren’t the stupid ones,” Windpaw growled back, the fur on his shoulders beginning to bristle. “If stupid’s what you’re looking for, the perfect cat lies ahead in one of these Twoleg dens. Or,” he added, “if you’d like a more snake-hearted variety, you can go with the brown-furred companion beside you.”
Scorchpaw’s not a snake-heart! Petalpaw wanted to shout, but the words didn’t come. Heat flooded her cheeks as her ears grew hot with embarrassment. Windpaw’s being such a jealous furball! It had been flattering at first, but now… it was annoying. Petalpaw just wanted to keep trudging on without all the silent glares and little jibes.
“And if you really want to live on the edge, there are some rogues in the alleys -- ”
Petalpaw flattened her ears to Windpaw’s infuriating words. Where was her sweet, loyal friend, the tom with a million jokes stacked in piles in his head, the tom with a mind that ran like the wind, just as Briarstar had noted? Who was this arrogant creature that had come to reside in Windpaw’s body, that seemed to love and hate Petalpaw at the same time?
“Rogues in the alleys,” a new voice hissed. “My my, is that really what every cat thinks of us?”
Petalpaw’s blood ran cold. She slipped into a defensive crouch, feeling Scorchpaw do the same beside her. Twoleg dens loomed above them on all sides, trapping them in a maze of narrow pathways littered with rubbish. Petalpaw wrinkled her nose at the smell of sour puddles and moved a few mouse-lengths away from a jagged piece of clearstone.
“Hello?” Windpaw called. “Who’s there?”
“Just some rogues from an alley,” the voice replied, and a cat melted out of the shadows. The pale sunlight slid over a white face and pink nose, reflecting off two perfectly-centered blue eyes. Dainty paws with delicate pads gingerly stepped around the shards of green clearstone as the cat approached. There was a faint tinkling noise that rang through the alleys, and Petalpaw noticed the round bell on the cat’s collar.
It’s… a kittypet?
The white she-cat wrinkled her nose in amusement at their incredulous expressions. “Surprised, I take it?” she asked.
Petalpaw, Scorchpaw, and Windpaw shrugged simultaneously. Petalpaw glanced at Windpaw; the gray tom’s eyes darted all over the newcomer, as though sizing her up. Scorchpaw simply stood in silence, waiting for the stranger to make the first move.
“Why don’t I know you?” the white she-cat mused, padding forward. Her paws didn’t make a sound against the stone as she approached Scorchpaw. She stood with her muzzle a mouse-length from his, her clear blue eyes peering into amber. Petalpaw felt a twinge of something like annoyance in her belly as she watched the strange she-cat regard Scorchpaw with apparent interest. Petalpaw shifted her paws uncomfortably as she waited for Scorchpaw’s response.
“We come from far away,” Scorchpaw replied, taking a little step back. “We come from the Clans.”
“We’re only passing through,” Windpaw added. He gave the white she-cat his most winning smile, and she returned it.
“I’m Gwyneira,” the snowy-furred kittypet introduced herself. “Gwyn for short.” She gave a tinkling laugh not unlike the jingling of the bell on her collar.
“Gwyneira?” Windpaw echoed. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Oh, please, call me Gwyn!” Gwyneira purred, flicking Windpaw’s flank with her tail. “I’m just a little kittypet in a big Twolegplace, no need to be extravagant.” She laughed again. “What’s your name?”
“Windpaw,” Windpaw responded, beaming. Petalpaw glowered at him through slitted eyes, but that was nothing compared to the burning glare she kept fixed on Gwyn when the white she-cat turned to Scorchpaw.
“And you?” the kittypet asked, the bell on her collar jingling pleasantly. “What’s your name?”
“Scorchpaw,” Scorchpaw mumbled.
“What a fierce name!” Gwyn exclaimed, wrinkling her nose and giving Scorchpaw a playful shove. “You’d fit right in with the alley cats; and I mean that as a compliment!”
Petalpaw’s tail flicked slowly back and forth as irritation boiled beneath her pelt. Her claws sheathed and unsheathed. She wanted to fly at the soft-furred, round-eyed kittypet and fling her away from Scorchpaw.
Who’s jealous now? Petalpaw thought wryly.
She didn’t retract her claws.
“And you!” Gwyn meowed, rounding on Petalpaw. “What’s a lovely she-cat like you doing traveling with these ruffians?”
“They’re not ruffians,” Petalpaw grumbled. “At least, not most of the time.”
“Thanks a lot,” Windpaw mewed, rolling his eyes.
Gwyn smiled warmly. “What’s your name?”
“Petalpaw,” Petalpaw answered, almost defiantly. Her fur prickled uncomfortably, and she sidled closer to Scorchpaw. The brush of his fur lessened the irrational anxiety that was fluttering in her chest.
It might have been her imagination, but Petalpaw thought Gwyn’s smile became a little more forced, more like a grimace. The kittypet’s bared teeth were shiny and white, just like her pelt, but they looked surprisingly sharp.
“What a beautiful name,” Gwyn remarked, after a brief moment of hesitation. “Windpaw, Scorchpaw, and Petalpaw.” Her words were sweet as honey, gliding through the air like falling feathers, but they seemed to become sharper at Petalpaw’s name, as though the honey was poison and the feathers were serrated claws.
You’re just imagining it, Petalpaw told herself. You’re such a paranoid mouse-brain, get it together!
An unspoken tension vibrated in the air between the four cats for a moment. Then, Gwyn spoke, addressing Scorchpaw.
“Why have you Clan cats come?” she asked curiously. “Thinking about settling in as kittypets?” She winked at Scorchpaw, and a bolt of fury shot through Petalpaw’s veins. If she does that one more time, I swear to StarClan I’ll rip her ears off!
“No, we’re just passing through,” Scorchpaw responded, glancing at Petalpaw. “Petalpaw’s Clan was driven out, and we’re going to find them.”
“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,” Gwyn crooned, shaking her head and blinking sorrowfully at Petalpaw. “I hope you succeed.”
Petalpaw shivered. Those were the words that Thistleheart had spoken to her when she was still a kit. She expected them to instill confidence in her heart, just as Thistleheart’s had, but they felt… wrong. Something was off, Petalpaw just couldn’t quite put her paw on it…
“You can stay at my Twoleg’s den to rest!” Gwyn offered sweetly, gazing at Scorchpaw with round, sparkling eyes. Petalpaw felt a tremor run through her body. The reflected sunlight in Gwyn’s radiant blue eyes felt sharp somehow, like the shards of clearstone speckling the alley around them.
Petalpaw stepped forward, paws trembling. “I don’t think we can rest right now, sorry,” she meowed firmly but politely. “It was nice meeting you!”
“But I’m hungry!” Windpaw complained, turning pleading blue eyes on Petalpaw. “And my paws are nearly dropping off! Can we just stay for a little bit? We’ll be back to traveling by sunset!”
“We can’t afford to leave the scent trail!” Petalpaw argued, tail lashing. Her temper was on the verge of exploding; she could feel it in every tense muscle. “And we’re warriors! We’re not going to eat kittypet food!”
“We’re apprentices,” Windpaw pointed out. “And you don’t have to eat any. I was just thinking it might be fun to try.”
Petalpaw exhaled through gritted teeth. “Is that all this is?” she demanded in a tight voice. “A fun adventure where you stop whenever you want to flirt with some pretty kittypets? Because my family’s lives are at stake. And all you want to do is go stuff yourself with rabbit pellets and slop instead of finding the scent trail and finishing what Graytail started.”
Silence greeted her words, broken only by the faraway growls of monsters on the Thunderpath.
Petalpaw was breathing heavily, feeling a cloud of rage surround her. Dark shadows hemmed in on her from all sides, sending spurts of panic and adrenaline through her veins.
Get away from me! Petalpaw thought desperately. I’m not a bad cat! I’m not! She tried to sheathe her claws, but part of her was holding onto her fury, washed in the consuming red flames. Windpaw was being a coward, and she didn’t like that… no, she didn’t like that at all… They’d come too far to just give up and crumble.
Gradually, the world returned. Petalpaw took in a deep, shuddering breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. Now that her anger had subsided, guilt weighed down heavily on her chest. “I suppose we could rest at your Twoleg den until sunset, if Windpaw is so infatuated with the idea.”
Gwyn beamed. “Wonderful, darling!”
Petalpaw stared at the silky-furred kittypet through narrowed eyes. That doesn’t mean I like you, though. Not your honeyed words or soft, white pelt or “darlings.” Get away from my friends.
Gwyn smiled pleasantly. “Well, if you’re all ready, my Twoleg den awaits!”
They followed the white she-cat out of the alley.
Petalpaw’s anxiety grew with every pawstep. Every stride they took following Gwyn to her Twoleg den was another stride away from MoonClan, and it felt so agonizingly wrong to take a detour. Petalpaw itched to take control; she longed to steer the group around, to snap a goodbye at Gwyn and drag her friends back to the MoonClan scent.
If we’d kept searching, we would have found it. Her secret worry echoed in her head. Shame tugged at her paws. But I was such a pushover; Windpaw was tired and I gave in.
Irritation prickled in every hair on her pelt. Annoyance at Gwyn, for her dainty kittypet pace and flirtatious winks at Scorchpaw; annoyance at Windpaw, who pranced at Gwyn’s side as though he was a happy kittypet himself; and most of all, annoyance at herself, for following Gwyn and leaving the MoonClan scent behind.
Fury surged through her veins like fire as she recalled the lost trail of MoonClan scent. They’d just abandoned it, left it behind when a more appealing target approached -- Gwyn -- and Petalpaw complied. Like a total mouse-brained coward. Some leader I am.
“Are we there yet?” Petalpaw asked impatiently. She was sorely tempted to slip away while Gwyn was distracted by Scorchpaw and Windpaw… then shook her head as guilt settled down on her chest. How could I even think about leaving them? They’re my friends!
“Almost!” Gwyn called. “It’s not far now.”
Petalpaw curled her lip and trudged on.
* * * * *
The path to Gwyn’s Twoleg den led deeper into the tangle of Thunderpaths and alleys. A cloud of unease hung over Petalpaw as she reluctantly followed the snowy-white kittypet through the narrow rivers of blackstone. Petalpaw stiffened as a sharp squeaking sound pierced her ears, and she whipped her head toward a shadowy pile of Twoleg rubbish. Rats chittered angrily at the passing cats, gnashing yellow teeth and narrowing beady eyes. With a shiver, Petalpaw quickened her pace so that she was trotting beside Scorchpaw.
“I don’t like this,” she murmured to the brown tabby tom.
Scorchpaw’s ears twitched in acknowledgement. “Neither do I.”
“Oh, you can’t judge a book by its cover!” Gwyn meowed cheerfully, with a wave of her plumy white tail.
Petalpaw frowned, confused by the expression. “What in the name of StarClan is a book?”
“Some sort of Twoleg thing, I presume,” Scorchpaw muttered, pressing closer to her as a sleek brown rat darted around their paws. Petalpaw could feel his heart thundering through his flank, and she was oddly comforted by his panic. She was glad that she wasn’t the only one thoroughly unsettled by this place.
“How much farther do we have to go?” Windpaw asked, voicing the question with much less bitterness than Petalpaw had in her own mind.
“It’s just around the bend!” Gwyn promised brightly, making the turn as she spoke. Petalpaw watched apprehensively as the kittypet’s pure white pelt guided them across the dark, silent Thunderpath. She looked like a ghost in the night, and Petalpaw shivered, drawing closer to Scorchpaw.
An old, decrepit Twoleg den stood alone at the end of the blackstone path. Petalpaw’s fur prickled uneasily as they padded closer. The squares of clearstone embedded in the walls were decorated with hairline fissures, and some had shattered completely, speckling the ground with shards. Petalpaw frowned as she picked her way around them, careful not to slice open her pads.
“This is where you live?” Windpaw asked warily.
Gwyn nodded. “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “I know it looks like a pile of rubbish, but inside, it’s very charming.” A warm smile bloomed on her face as she beckoned for the Clan cats to follow. “Come in, you’ll see.” Her blue eyes glinted like the clearstone pieces beneath their paws, and Petalpaw felt a small tremble of fear. Was she imagining the malice in Gwyn’s wide, welcoming gaze? Was she imagining the sliver of hostility in Gwyn’s kind words?
Of course I’m imagining it. Great StarClan, Petalpaw, be more trusting! Scorchpaw has proven himself, and so will Gwyn.
But her pawsteps were slow and reluctant as she followed the white she-cat into the depths of the Twoleg den, and she kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure Scorchpaw was behind her. Once, Petalpaw thought she saw a shadow flit across a distant Thunderpath, but it was gone in the blink of an eye.
“Sister!” Gwyn called into the gloom, her voice echoing off the crumbling walls. “Sister, I’ve brought guests!”
A clicking sound broke the ensuing silence. It was the sound of unsheathed claws against stone. Each pawstep sent another burst of icy terror through Petalpaw’s veins, terror that she didn’t understand. If this cat is a kittypet’s sister, there shouldn’t be anything to be afraid of.
From the shadows of the abandoned Twoleg den, a slender figure emerged. Silky fur, black as a nightmare, was draped over a slight frame. Glinting green eyes pierced Petalpaw’s own as the cat’s gaze swept over the Clan cats. Her smooth, rippling fur was broken by a bright streak of red; for a moment, Petalpaw was startled, and her mind jumped to blood and fatal wounds. But a flash of gold from the red band, accompanied by a tinkling sound, made Petalpaw realize that the she-cat was wearing a collar just like Gwyn’s.
The quiet jingling of the black cat’s collar made every hair on Petalpaw’s pelt stand on end. It was a soft, almost pleasant sound, but oddly sinister, like a gentle voice speaking words of malice. Petalpaw took an instinctive step back as the kittypet padded silently forward.
After regarding the Clan cats for a moment, the black she-cat murmured, “Guests, eh?”
Gwyn beamed and strode forward to embrace her sister. The two littermates, one jet-black and one snow-white, touched noses. Gwyn’s sister withdrew swiftly, her cold green eyes scrutinizing Petalpaw, Scorchpaw, and Windpaw without emotion.
“Who are they?” she asked.
“I’m Windpaw,” Windpaw volunteered immediately, putting on his most charming grin. Gwyn’s sister studied his glittering teeth and sparkling eyes and gave an unimpressed huff.
“I’m Scorchpaw,” Scorchpaw added, sounding a little nervous.
Petalpaw lifted her chin, trying to convey a feeling of pride as she beat back her nerves. “And I’m Petalpaw,” she announced, the words coming out louder than she expected. They echoed sharply around the empty Twoleg den, bouncing off the cracked walls and shattered clearstone squares. Petalpaw flattened her ears as the black she-cat gazed at her with something like amusement in her green eyes.
“I’m Adrienne,” the black kittypet replied evenly. “Gwyn’s sister.”
“My opposite,” Gwyn joked, crinkling her nose with laughter. “Black pelt, white pelt. Brooding and creepy, happy-go-lucky.”
Adrienne smiled without humor. “We are more alike than you realize, Gwyneira.”
Petalpaw shifted her paws in the uncomfortable silence that followed Adrienne’s ominous words. She felt a sudden desire to turn tail and sprint back to the place they’d lost the MoonClan scent and resume their journey, to forget about these odd kittypets.
But she couldn’t leave. Not without Scorchpaw and Windpaw.
“Why have you come?” Adrienne asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Petalpaw glanced uncertainly at Scorchpaw and Windpaw, unsure if they should contribute to the story. But both toms nodded to her, indicating that she should tell the tale herself.
“W-well,” Petalpaw began nervously, addressing Adrienne’s silky black paws instead of her face, “I was separated from m-my family. My Clan, MoonClan, got chased out of their camp and fled Clan territory. We tracked their scent all the way to this Twolegplace, then lost it.” She hesitated, wary of asking these unfamiliar kittypets for help. “Have you… have you scented them?” She gazed up into Adrienne’s cold, calculating green eyes.
Adrienne examined Petalpaw thoughtfully. “What scent do they carry?” the black she-cat asked.
“Pine forest,” Petalpaw responded, the smell filling her nose as she spoke of it. She could almost taste the sharp, bittersweet pinesap on the faint, stale breeze. Longing swamped Petalpaw’s heart, blanketing every other emotion.
Adrienne’s eyes widened with shock, the first true emotion Petalpaw had seen on her face so far. “Pine forest,” the black she-cat repeated.
Petalpaw nodded impatiently, her pelt prickling. “Yes, yes!”
Adrienne turned to face her sister in a whirl of swishing black fur. “Gwyneira! Didn’t Calypso scent something odd the other day? Something… she described it as sharp?”
“Like sap,” Gwyn agreed, nodding in understanding. “Should I go get her?”
Adrienne nodded. “She’s probably sitting by the colorglass again.”
Petalpaw watched silently as Gwyn dipped her head to Adrienne and padded into the depths of the Twoleg dwelling. A thousand questions rushed through her head at once, all of them unspoken. The way that Adrienne and Gwyn discussed this Calypso character sounded condescending, implying that Calypso was inferior… maybe even a prisoner…
No, Petalpaw told herself sternly. These are kittypets living in a rundown Twoleg den, and we outnumber them --
If they live here, where are their Twolegs?
Petalpaw, frowning at her thought, opened her mouth to ask Adrienne, but the black she-cat’s piercing green stare and aloof stance vanquished all words on her tongue. Petalpaw clamped her jaws shut and glanced furtively at Scorchpaw. The brown tabby tom was eyeing Adrienne with an unreadable gaze, but Petalpaw had gotten progressively better at discerning the emotions in his amber eyes. And right now, there was a faint shadow of something like concern hanging over them.
He shares my worries, thank StarClan. I’m not completely paranoid.
Windpaw, on the other paw, looked calm, his muscles relaxed, his posture casual. His eyes rested lazily on Adrienne, and Petalpaw felt a twinge of annoyance toward the gray tom. Now that Gwyn’s gone, he’s replaced her with the next-prettiest she-cat in the vicinity.
The frosty silence that filled the air between the four cats was broken by the awkward sound of Scorchpaw coughing. Adrienne’s ears flicked up at the sound, and the she-cat dropped into a battle crouch, then shook out her pelt and returned to a standing position, still poised like a snake about to strike.
Petalpaw cringed as she waited impatiently for Gwyn to return. Once or twice Adrienne’s eyes swept over her face, but they seemed to linger on Scorchpaw, who was now staring at his paws with his eyes devoid of all emotion.
Petalpaw’s fur prickled. Why’s Adrienne taking an interest in him? Her eyes narrowed into a glare as she inspected the silky-furred kittypet. First Gwyn, now her… The SunClan apprentice was handsome, Petalpaw conceded, but the way Adrienne was gazing at him felt… different. Not romantically, almost… platonically. Like she was considering him to be friend material, or a potential ally.
But… for what?
Finally, the shuffling of paws broke the silence. Petalpaw stifled a sigh of relief as Gwyn came into view, shepherding a nervous-looking, gray-spotted she-cat forward. The she-cat’s speckled fur twitched uncomfortably along her spine, and her golden eyes darted from Adrienne to Scorchpaw to Windpaw to Petalpaw.
“Calypso,” Adrienne meowed, and the spotted gray she-cat gave a little jump. “Do you recall the scent that you detected yesterday morning? The one that smelled… sharp?”
Calypso stared at Adrienne, golden eyes huge and filled with anxiety. “Uh, I -- h-how do you mean? Um -- ”
Adrienne smiled mirthlessly. “Remember the scent?” she asked, although the words sounded like a command.
Calypso glanced at Gwyn, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. “Uh… yes? It smelled sharp, like… like…”
“Like pinesap?” Adrienne finished in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Y-yes,” Calypso stammered, briefly shaking out her pelt. The darker gray spots in her fur fluttered like ashes falling from the sky. “Like p-p-pinesap.” The little she-cat still looked terribly confused, and Petalpaw felt a pang of pity for her.
“Where did you scent the pinesap?” Adrienne inquired, her words light but her tone dark.
Calypso’s nervous golden gaze flicked to Gwyn again as she hesitated. “Um… the… the edge of the T-Twolegplace? Near the monster dens?”
Adrienne nodded to Calypso. “Thank you for your information,” she meowed curtly. The black she-cat turned to Petalpaw, who swallowed hard and took a halting step back. “Good news. Calypso has found the MoonClan scent trail.”
Calypso ducked her head, still trembling, as Adrienne acknowledged her.
Petalpaw blinked. Her mind was oddly blank. She didn’t think so much as feel a powerful rush of relief as she took in Adrienne’s words. The MoonClan scent trail was found. Now they could go back and keep searching, and stop taking detours.
“Could you lead us there?” Petalpaw asked hungrily.
Adrienne regarded her thoughtfully. Her eerie green gaze was unsettling, but Petalpaw no longer cared. She waited impatiently for a response, tail switching back and forth.
“Yes, we can,” Adrienne replied at last, her unreadable gaze flicking to Gwyn. “You may leave, Calypso.”
The spotted gray she-cat dipped her head nervously and scrambled away, disappearing into the depths of the abandoned Twoleg den.
Petalpaw frowned, still off-put by the way that Adrienne addressed the little gray she-cat. But she managed to dismiss the worries as hope swelled in her chest. These kittypets had found the MoonClan scent again, and soon Petalpaw, Scorchpaw, and Windpaw would be on their way, the Twolegplace far behind them and MoonClan ahead.
“So… are we going, then?” Petalpaw asked eagerly.
Adrienne, not breaking eye contact with Scorchpaw, replied, “Yes.”
“Wait!” Windpaw interrupted. “I thought we were going to try kittypet food?”
Adrienne’s ears twitched irritably, but the black she-cat didn’t speak. Instead, it was Gwyn who responded. “You and I can have some,” she told the mottled gray tom reassuringly, resting her feathery white tail on his shoulders. “Come on.” Together, Gwyn and Windpaw padded into the gloom, deeper into the Twoleg den.
That left Petalpaw, Scorchpaw, and Adrienne standing in an awkward circle, tension prickling in the air between them. Petalpaw snuck a glance at the black she-cat; Adrienne’s cold green eyes were locked on Scorchpaw, while Scorchpaw himself was staring down at his paws, avoiding her gaze.
At last, Adrienne spoke, addressing Petalpaw. “Mind if I borrow your friend for a moment?”
Petalpaw flinched, taken aback at the black she-cat’s direct request. She wants Scorchpaw? Why? Suspicion lurked like a stone in her belly as she glowered at Adrienne. I’m not just going to let him wander off with an unknown, possibly hostile she-cat, am I?
“It’s okay, Petalpaw,” Scorchpaw meowed. Petalpaw’s fur prickled as her name rolled off his tongue. She shivered slightly, honored to be mentioned. No way am I letting him go off with Adrienne!
“We’ll be right back,” Adrienne promised, her green eyes glittering.
Petalpaw scowled at the silky-furred she-cat, an argument ready on the tip of her tongue. But Scorchpaw interrupted before she could start to protest.
“I’ll be fine,” the brown tabby tom assured her. “If she makes one false move, I’ll introduce her to these little guys.” He unsheathed his claws and flexed them. “My SunClan training will help.”
Adrienne’s thin mouth quirked into a small, grudging smile. “Don’t worry,” she mewed. “I won’t murder this furball. In fact, I think we could be good friends.”
Petalpaw couldn’t hide the look of shock and disgust that flared across her face. Scorchpaw is nothing like you. He’s warm and friendly and loyal and you’re… Petalpaw shivered. I don’t really know you. But from what I’ve seen… you and Scorchpaw are nothing alike.
But all she said was, “Go. But make it quick; MoonClan isn’t getting any closer.” The words felt wrenched from her throat against her will, and Petalpaw snapped her jaws shut immediately, feeling shame wash over her. I just rolled over like a yellow-bellied mouse-heart. I shouldn’t have let them go so easily. I shouldn’t have given up like that.
I’m the leader of the patrol, for StarClan’s sake! Why can’t I lead?
Oh, how she wished Ravenstar was here to take power, to show Petalpaw the wisest decisions and help her identify what was right and what was wrong. Her father knew how to run a Clan, he’d be able to help.
But he’s far, far away.
And every second they wasted stuffing themselves full of kittypet food and fraternizing with sketchy, unfamiliar cats was another second for MoonClan to travel farther away. Petalpaw was done with all the hesitation; if she had been by herself, she’d have chosen to abandon the kittypets and go find MoonClan alone. But she hadn’t come by herself.
No, the equation wasn’t complete without Scorchpaw and Windpaw. They hadn’t left her, so she wouldn’t leave them, no matter how much she longed to break free and sprint away.
It was a cumbersome burden to shoulder alone, leading the patrol. Even if it was just a trio of inexperienced apprentices. Petalpaw always had to keep every need of each cat in mind; their energy level, thirst, hunger, and level of skill when it came to hunting or fighting. It was exhausting.
I guess I’m not following in Ravenstar’s pawsteps, Petalpaw thought wryly, twitching her whiskers as she watched Adrienne and Scorchpaw pad out of the Twoleg den. She strained her ears, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation -- with a small twinge of guilt -- but the two cats were murmuring so quietly it was impossible to understand a word. Petalpaw gave a huff of frustration and sat down heavily. It was agony to sit and not move, to remain stationary when MoonClan was out there, so close but so far.
But Petalpaw was bound to Scorchpaw and Windpaw, just as they were to her.
It would be a shame once they all went their separate ways. The thought was frightening; Petalpaw hadn’t thought much about Scorchpaw returning to SunClan or Windpaw choosing to stay with LeafClan. The very notion of their three paths dividing was almost too painful to consider.
That’s why you don’t get attached to strangers, Petalpaw thought. I thought you learned your lesson, with Belladonna and Graytail.
But it was so hard to keep her distance, so hard to stay away from Scorchpaw and Windpaw! Petalpaw considered them her friends now. How could she bear to leave them for MoonClan and only speak to them for a heartbeat at Gatherings? How could she be content with sitting at the edge of the border, staring into enemy territory and hoping to see a familiar pelt color, brown or gray?
Petalpaw shook out her pelt, trying to rid herself of the sudden feeling of crushing loneliness. Great StarClan, it hasn’t even happened yet, Petalpaw thought with annoyance. You’ll face it when it comes.
Right now, you’re waiting for Scorchpaw and Windpaw to come back.
Once they’re back, we can resume the journey. Adrienne and Gwyn will lead us to the scent, and we’ll be on our way.
Then I can put all of this behind me.
How very, very wrong she was.