Fading Echoes Page 10

  “Or Tigerstar,” a sour mew whispered behind Dovepaw.

  She jerked around, puzzled. One of the WindClan warriors was whispering into her Clanmate’s ear. Dovepaw frowned. Like every kit, she’d heard nursery tales about the dark warrior. But what did he have to do with Leopardstar? She leaned closer to Blossompaw. “He was ShadowClan’s leader, wasn’t he?”

  Sandstorm glanced sharply over her shoulder. “Yes,” she hissed. “But it was a bit more complicated than that. Now hush!”

  Dovepaw bit her tongue as Mistystar went on.

  “We are pleased to have Petalfur back and we grieve for Rippletail, who died bravely fighting the beavers.”

  Dovepaw’s heart tightened. She hadn’t thought of the RiverClan warrior in days. She didn’t want to forget him, not ever.

  “I am sure,” Mistystar added, “that he and Leopardstar walk now among StarClan and watch over their old Clanmates.”

  Sighs of sympathy spread through the Clans as Mistystar sat down.

  Blackstar took her place. “Leopardstar will be missed.” The ShadowClan leader seemed to speak with genuine grief, his eyes glistening in the moonlight. “The loss of a leader is a loss to all the Clans,” he went on. “But new blood brings new energy, and we wish Mistystar a long and happy leadership.”

  Dovepaw stared at the ShadowClan leader, surprised by his compassion. Why couldn’t the Clans show this sense of friendship more often? Perhaps Mistystar’s leadership would mark a new time, one based on trust rather than suspicion.

  As hope flashed in Dovepaw’s chest, the ShadowClan leader’s eyes hardened. “And yet borders are still borders. They must remain unblurred.”

  Dovepaw saw Graystripe stiffen as Blackstar glared down at the ThunderClan cats.

  “There’s been too much activity on ThunderClan’s border,” Blackstar hissed. “Scent marks are becoming confused.”

  Thornclaw leaped to his paws, bristling. “How dare you! It was ShadowClan who left scent on our territory!”

  RiverClan and WindClan cats turned and watched, their eyes bright with interest as ShadowClan warriors began to get to their paws. Dovepaw noticed Graystripe unsheathe his claws.

  “The truce!” Sandstorm hissed in the gray warrior’s ear, but Graystripe only dug his claws hard into the ground, letting the fur lift on his shoulders.

  “Don’t stir up trouble you can’t handle,” he warned.

  “Sit down!” Brambleclaw’s growl made Graystripe pause. Snorting, he let his hackles fall, but kept his claws unsheathed.

  Blackstar’s eyes gleamed. “We aren’t stirring up trouble,” he argued. “It was ThunderClan who started the accusations.”

  Graystripe’s tail was twitching as the ShadowClan leader went on. “One of my warriors inspected the so-called scent you found inside your border, and he couldn’t tell which Clan it belonged to. As usual, ThunderClan is looking for any chance to tell the other Clans what to do.”

  Sandstorm pressed against Graystripe, as though reminding him to control his temper.

  Dovepaw wriggled forward so that she could glimpse Tigerheart. The dark brown tabby warrior was keeping his head down. He knows he’s guilty. But do his Clanmates?

  As she stared at Tigerheart, the scent of blood touched her nose and she suddenly realized that the young tom was scratched. His fur was ruffled by wounds, not embarrassment, and one of his ears was torn. Perhaps his Clanmates did know he had left scent on ThunderClan’s territory and had decided to punish him.

  She frowned, her thoughts wandering. Poor Tigerheart! ShadowClan warriors must be every bit as vicious as the nursery tales said.

  A sharp nudge made her jump. “Stop staring at Tigerheart,” Sandstorm snapped. “You look like an owl!”

  Was I staring? Dovepaw turned her gaze back to the Great Oak. Blackstar was still lecturing.

  “If ThunderClan can’t keep its borders marked and stay inside those markers, then ShadowClan will react.” He sighed dramatically. “Why does ThunderClan always seem to think the other Clans are in their debt after a mission that involved all of us?” He let his gaze grow mournful and drift over RiverClan and WindClan, as though they shared a common burden.

  Dovepaw winced. Had Blackstar somehow found out about her visit to Sedgewhisker?

  Blossompaw gave her a shove. “Stop fidgeting!”

  “Sorry!” Dovepaw hadn’t realized she’d been shuffling her paws so much.

  “Be quiet!” Sandstorm hissed at them. “Or I’ll send you both home early!”

  Dovepaw pulled in her paws and pressed her lips together, vowing not to say another word. What would StarClan think if she was sent home from a Gathering?

  At last Blackstar stopped complaining and Firestar padded to the center of the branch, his chin and tail held high. “Welcome, Mistystar,” he began. “You have earned your leadership and ThunderClan wishes you well.” He blinked warmly at the RiverClan leader. “We shall miss Leopardstar. I remember her from all the way back when I was an apprentice in ThunderClan.” A purr rose in his throat. He was acting as though Blackstar’s speech had never happened. “I always respected her, and, though her loyalty to RiverClan never wavered, she was a leader who understood the importance of keeping every Clan strong.” Firestar flashed a glance at Blackstar before going on. “She had the heart, courage, and strength of the mighty cat she was named for.”

  As he dipped his head, a mew sounded from behind Dovepaw. The WindClan warriors were grumbling again.

  “Firestar’s always acting like everyone’s ally!”

  “Trying to make friends to avoid battle.”

  “Never did like the smell of blood.”

  “Just like a kittypet.”

  Dovepaw whirled around. “Just because he’s friendly doesn’t mean Firestar or ThunderClan is weak!”

  Oops! Remembering Sandstorm’s warning, she shut her mouth quickly and turned back to the Great Oak.

  “Blackstar.” Firestar used his smoothest mew to address the ShadowClan leader. “We understand borders, and their importance in keeping peace among the Clans. We also know they are worth fighting for.” His voice was suddenly edged with threat. He held Blackstar’s gaze for a moment; then, just as the ShadowClan leader opened his mouth to retaliate, he turned back to the gathered cats. “Good news in ThunderClan,” he mewed brightly. “Cherrykit and Molekit are our newest members, born to Poppyfrost.” He waited while warm murmurs of congratulations echoed through the Clans before concluding, “At this rate, we’ll have to make the warriors’ den even bigger.” He dipped his head. “With the blessing of StarClan.” Then he jumped down from the oak.

  Dovepaw lifted her head, feeling very proud of her leader. Around her, the cats began to drift across the clearing. Apprentices mingled, sharing training gossip, and warriors gathered in knots while elders swapped their own news.

  Blossompaw and Briarpaw were heading for a cluster of ShadowClan and RiverClan apprentices.

  “Are you coming?” Briarpaw called.

  Dovepaw blinked. She’d been looking for Tigerheart. “In a while,” she promised.

  Where had he gone? Snowbird and Redwillow were gossiping with two WindClan warriors. Tigerheart was nowhere to be seen. She breathed deeply, trying to make sense of the jumble of scents on her tongue.

  There!

  She tasted his scent at last. Her gaze darted toward a bramble bush at the far side of the clearing. He was crouching in the shadows beneath.

  “Hiding?” she mewed, trotting up to him.

  He sat up. “What from?”

  “Me.” Dovepaw stared boldly at him. “You promised you’d explain what you were doing in our territory.”

  Tigerheart’s eyes grew wide. “Keep your voice down!” He glanced nervously around. “Follow me.” Creeping away, ears and tail lowered, he led her through the bramble thicket and into a small dip behind a cracked willow tree. Dovepaw blinked, her eyes adjusting to the shadows. The willow blocked out the moon and half of Silverpelt.

&nbs
p; “Look,” Tigerheart whispered. “I can’t tell you exactly what I was doing, but we’re not planning an invasion, I promise.”

  Dovepaw cocked her head. The young warrior was definitely up to something. “You were on my territory,” she reminded him. “I have a right to know why. And if you don’t tell me, I’m going to report you to Firestar!”

  Tigerheart dropped his gaze. “You do have a right to know.” His mew was soft, apologetic. “But, please, I need you to trust me.” He raised his eyes and gazed into hers. They were round, almost black, and glittering with worry.

  Dovepaw felt a rush of sympathy. The young tom was clearly torn. Something was bothering him. She nodded, distracted for a moment by the soft fur edging his face. He seemed desperate for her to understand. She curled her tail to touch the tip of his. He stiffened at her touch, but didn’t draw his tail away; instead, he leaned forward and rested his nose against her ear fur.

  “Thank you.”

  The warmth of his breath on her ear made her shiver. It smelled sweet, for a ShadowClan cat’s breath.

  “Okay.” She made an effort to focus on the reason she’d wanted to talk to him. “But if something is threatening the forest, I need to know.”

  “Nothing’s threatening the forest,” Tigerheart promised. “I would tell you if something were.” His eyes grew rounder until Dovepaw felt his gaze reaching into hers. “On the journey upstream, we were almost…friends.”

  Dovepaw found herself nodding vigorously.

  He sighed. “If we were in the same Clan it would be so easy….”

  No! Dovepaw drew back, suddenly aware that she was leaning far too close to this handsome young ShadowClan warrior. She had to change the subject! “H-how did you get those scratches?” She stared at the fur on his shoulder, still clotted with blood. “That one looks nasty.”

  Tigerheart sat back and shrugged. “Battle training.”

  Dovepaw shuddered. Did ShadowClan warriors train with teeth and claws bared? “Has Littlecloud treated it? It may get infected.”

  Tigerheart turned away so that his shoulder was hidden in shadow. “It’s not that bad, honest. It only hurts when I—” He broke off.

  The bramble bush rustled.

  Tigerheart crouched and flattened his ears. Dovepaw drew back into the deeply shadowed cleft between the roots of the willow tree.

  “Blasted prickers.” It was an old mew, croaking with irritation. Dovepaw sniffed and smelled WindClan. It must be an elder looking for a quiet spot to make dirt.

  Tigerheart scooted backward. “Got to go,” he murmured, and disappeared over the roots.

  Dovepaw stared after him. Why was he acting so odd? Puzzled, she hopped out of the dip and onto a thick root. “It’s quiet over there!” she called to the grumbling WindClan elder, pointing with her tail to a clear spot a few tail-lengths farther into the woods.

  The old cat dragged himself free of the brambles. “Now you tell me!” he rasped. “Once my ears have been shredded and half my pelt is hanging in this fox-toothed bush.”

  Whiskers twitching, Dovepaw scooted back to join her Clan. Sandstorm saw her and nudged Whitewing.

  “Dovepaw?” The white warrior was calling for her anxiously. “There you are!”

  “I wasn’t far away.” Dovepaw weaved past Thornclaw and Graystripe, while Firestar circled his Clan, his shoulders rippling with tension. “What’s going on?”

  “Blossompaw! Briarpaw! I’ve found her!” Whitewing called back the two apprentices who had been scooting around the edge of the clearing, sniffing the bushes. “Where were you?”

  “Over there.” Dovepaw nodded vaguely toward the cracked willow. “Why isn’t anyone sharing tongues anymore?”

  The Clans had separated and were eyeing one another warily.

  Sandstorm flicked her tail. “WindClan and ShadowClan started fussing over boundaries again,” she huffed.

  Ratscar paced around his Clanmates, his eyes burning in the moonlight as he glared at ThunderClan.

  Breezepelt sat bolt upright, eyes slitted, his tail sweeping the ground behind him. “Borders are borders,” he growled at Lionblaze, who was staring back at the furious warrior.

  “You share a mission with ThunderClan and they think they own the whole lake!” Crowfrost hissed.

  Foxleap clawed at the ground. “But we saved the lake!”

  “We all saved the lake!” Onestar hissed. “Cats from every Clan. So why are you crossing borders like you own us now?”

  Darkness slid over the clearing. Dovepaw looked up. The clouds that had been bubbling on the horizon had begun to drift across the moon. Pale light still filtered through, but the wind was picking up and the thickening clouds were swallowing Silverpelt star by star.

  Firestar lashed his tail. “Let’s leave before StarClan calls a halt to this Gathering altogether.” He shot an angry look at Onestar and Blackstar. “ThunderClan is not making trouble and you know it.”

  Dovepaw felt herself swept along by her Clanmates as they headed for the edge of the clearing. Blossompaw nudged her forward, while Millie, Brightheart, and Brackenfur jostled behind her.

  Firestar held his ground a moment longer. “Think carefully,” he warned the WindClan and ShadowClan leaders, “before you accuse us of something we didn’t do!” He turned, curling his lip, and followed his Clan into the trees.

  CHAPTER 10

  Bright flowers nodded around the apprentice as she weaved, slender as a pine martin, through the grass. She sneezed as pollen dusted her soft muzzle. Then, relishing the sun on her back, she lifted her forepaws and peered over the curving stems. Wide-eyed, she gazed at the broad green pasture and breathed the soft scent of the shimmering grass.

  A huge gray mare ambled past, its wide hooves thumping the earth and tearing trails through the grass. The she-cat scooted backward and sheltered beneath the lush leaves of a dock. Butterflies whirled up as the horse sauntered away. The apprentice scampered and leaped after them, swiping the air as they jerked on the breeze and scattered like windblown petals into the blue sky.

  The air was heavy with greenleaf scent and, as the cat tasted the breeze, she caught the musky tang of prey. Nostrils flaring, she followed the scent, tail down, ears flat. She tracked it through dark green clover and around a clump of bobbing white flowers before catching sight of a tiny flicker of movement.

  Mouse!

  Nibbling at the juicy roots of a cowslip, it didn’t even flinch as she began to wiggle her hindquarters. Confident, she pounced, but as her front paws left the ground, her back brushed against a thick poppy stem. Red petals flashed and the mouse whisked into the clover, diving under cover so thick that the cat lost sight of its tiny brown body. She plunged in her paws, patting the ground crossly, claws plucking but finding nothing but earth and roots.

  Mouse dung!

  “Bad luck.”

  The apprentice spun around as a deep mew sounded behind her. She blinked at the broad-shouldered tom gazing at her. His muzzle was scarred, and when he lifted a paw to flick away a fly, his long, hooked claws glinted in the sun.

  “I-is this your field?” she mewed nervously.

  “I visit here, just as you do,” the tom replied. He rested his paw on the ground and cocked his head.

  “This is the first time I’ve been here,” she admitted.

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve come,” purred the tom. “It gets lonely sometimes.”

  “Do you live nearby?”

  The tom didn’t answer, but nodded toward the patch of clover where the mouse had disappeared. “Too bad you lost it,” he commented. “I could show you how to pounce without arching your back, if you like.”

  She nodded shyly. This tom didn’t smell like a Clan cat, though he was as smooth pelted and tightly muscled as any warrior. His scent was strange and reminded her of walking in the forest at night.

  “Watch this.” Crouching, the tom leaped forward, skimming the ground, keeping his back smooth and straight as he landed so that only his flank gra
zed the overhanging stems without disturbing them.

  The apprentice watched wide-eyed.

  “You try it.” The tom nodded to a knot of moss. “Aim for that.”

  The she-cat nodded and squatted down, ready to pounce. Wriggling her hindquarters, she bunched her muscles and sprang, but she skimmed the ground too closely and came to a skidding halt before her front paws reached the moss.

  “Try again,” the tom coaxed.

  Again the apprentice pounced, this time keeping farther off the ground, but when she tried to flatten her spine she lost her balance and landed clumsily, stumbling to one side and sending shivers through the grass.

  “Again,” came the quiet encouragement.

  Thinking hard this time, the apprentice backed up, stared at the moss, and let awareness of every muscle spread through her body. Then she jumped, raking the ground, curving her body to weave around the stems before landing perfectly, the ball of moss falling between her paws as naturally as if StarClan had placed it for her.

  “Wow!” She sat up, pleased with herself. “I’ll show my sister that move.”

  The tom looked around. “Is she here?”

  The apprentice shook her head. “It’s just me.” She frowned, aware how strange it felt to be here alone, without the company of her littermate. “Maybe I can bring her next time.”

  The tom looked quizzical. “Don’t you like to do things by yourself?”

  The apprentice shook her head. “It’s much more fun with two.”

  “Well, there are two of us.” His blue gaze reached intently into hers. “Is that okay?”

  She nodded.

  “I could show you a stalking technique, if you like,” the tom offered.

  “I know all the basic ones,” the she-cat told him.

  “I bet you haven’t seen this one.” He crouched down and began to draw himself forward, chin stretched out, whiskers drawn back so that he weaved through the grass like a snake. Suddenly his muzzle darted forward, and he grasped a flower stem in his jaws so quickly that the apprentice gasped.

  “That was so fast!”