The Fourth Apprentice Read online

  She scrambled up, panic surging through her, only to recognize the den that she and the other cats had built the night before, and the clearing where they had fled from the dogs. The others were still asleep, except for Lionblaze, who was sitting a couple of tail-lengths away on the bank of the stream.

  “Hi,” he purred. “I was awake when Whitetail finished her watch, so I took your shift.”

  Every hair on Dovepaw’s pelt prickled with annoyance. Springing over the low bracken wall of the den, she stalked over to her mentor. “I can do my own shift!” she growled. “You don’t have to treat me like a kit.”

  “You’ve only just been made an apprentice,” Lionblaze reminded her.

  Dovepaw bit back a yowl of frustration. “The prophecy doesn’t care about that, does it?” she pointed out. “I had my power before I left the nursery. It’s not like StarClan waited for me to grow up first.”

  Lionblaze opened his jaws to reply, but before he could speak a rustling noise came from the den and Sedgewhisker sat up, stretching. Her eyes were filled with shock as she looked around; then she seemed to remember where she was and stood up, shaking scraps of moss from her pelt.

  “Hi, Sedgewhisker,” Dovepaw called. “How’s your shoulder?”

  The WindClan she-cat flexed her leg experimentally, then looked up, purring with relief. “It’s much better, thanks. I can hardly feel anything.”

  As she spoke, the other cats began stirring, looking tense when they realized how close they were to cats of other Clans.

  “We should get on with hunting,” Toadfoot announced, jumping out of his nest. “Before it gets too hot and all the prey is hiding down holes.”

  “Don’t go too far,” Lionblaze warned the cats as they scattered. “Remember, those dogs might still be around.”

  Dovepaw cast out her senses, but she couldn’t pick up a trace of the dogs. The stupid creatures are probably still asleep in their Twoleg’s den. What she did pick up was a squirrel somewhere among the trees on the other side of the stream; she leaped onto the far bank and headed toward it. I’ll make up for that miserable little mouse I caught yesterday.

  Slipping between the trees, she spotted the squirrel nibbling a seed at the foot of a beech tree. Dovepaw pressed herself to the ground, checked that the wind was blowing her scent away from her prey, and dropped into the hunter’s crouch. Step by silent step, she pulled herself closer. That’s right…look the other way….

  One swift blow of her paw brought the squirrel down, and she trotted proudly back to the others, who were gathering again beside the den. Lionblaze had killed a vole, while Tigerheart had a couple of shrews and Toadfoot had a mouse. Whitetail and Sedgewhisker had caught a rabbit together.

  “You should teach us that technique of hunting as a pair,” Lionblaze was suggesting as Dovepaw padded up with her fresh-kill. “It could be useful.”

  Whitetail acknowledged his words with a flick of her ears; Dovepaw guessed she didn’t feel comfortable teaching anything to cats from another Clan.

  As the cats settled down to eat, Rippletail and Petalfur drew back. “We didn’t catch anything, so we can’t eat,” Petalfur meowed, with a longing look at the fresh-kill.

  “Nonsense,” Whitetail replied briskly. “How are you going to travel if your bellies are empty?”

  “That’s right,” Lionblaze added. “On this journey, we all share. Come on, there’s plenty.”

  The two RiverClan cats crept back again and Dovepaw dropped her squirrel in front of them. “Thanks,” Rippletail muttered.

  Dovepaw sensed their guilt and embarrassment as they started to eat, and she felt sorry for any cats who were so dependent on one kind of prey. No wonder the RiverClan cats were starving now that they couldn’t find fish.

  When every cat had finished eating, they set out again, with Toadfoot in the lead. They padded silently along the bed of the stream, almost as uncomfortable with one another as they had been at the start of the journey; Dovepaw could feel the tension rising, as if each one had realized all over again that they didn’t know where they were going, or how they were going to get there.

  Panic bubbled up inside her. They’re only here because of me. What if I’m wrong?

  Pausing, she struggled to block out all the sounds of the forest around her, then closed her eyes and cast her senses ahead. At once, sounds began to travel down the streambed to the stones underneath her paws: scratching, gnawing, the slap of trapped water, and the paw steps of large brown animals slipping over a pile of tree trunks. She sensed their bulky bodies as they dragged more branches out into the stream.

  “Dovepaw?” She jumped at the sound of Petalfur’s voice. “Are you okay?”

  Dovepaw’s eyes blinked open to see the RiverClan cat at the rear of the group looking back over her shoulder.

  “Uh…sure,” Dovepaw mewed, running to catch up. “I’m fine.”

  Reassured that the brown animals really were up ahead, she fell in beside Petalfur as they padded on. The foliage overhead was growing thicker, blocking out the fierce rays of the sun, so that it felt as if the cats were traveling through a cool, dimly lit tunnel. Dovepaw even spotted a pool of water underneath the overhanging bank.

  “Look at that!” she exclaimed, giving Petalfur a friendly flick on the shoulder with her tail. “Maybe there are some fish in there.”

  Dovepaw had meant her words as gentle teasing, but the RiverClan she-cat’s ears pricked. “Maybe there are.”

  She padded up to the edge of the pool and peered down into the unmoving green water. Rippletail came up to join her. “Fish?” he asked, tasting the air.

  “Yes!” Petalfur’s tail went straight up in the air. “There are fish. They must have survived here when the rest of the stream dried up.”

  “Do you think you can catch some?” Tigerheart asked curiously.

  “Of course she can.” Rippletail’s eyes shone with pride.

  “The rest of you stay back,” Petalfur instructed, waving them away with her tail. “If your shadows fall on the water, the fish will know they’re being hunted.”

  “Just like staying downwind of prey,” Dovepaw murmured to Lionblaze as they retreated.

  Rippletail and Petalfur crouched down at the edge of the pool and waited with their gazes fixed on the water. The wait stretched out. Dovepaw shifted her paws impatiently, then made herself stand still, wondering if fish could sense vibrations in the ground. Still they waited. Her legs ached and her fur itched; she stifled a yawn. Is this really how RiverClan cats catch their prey? That fish had better be worth it.

  Suddenly Rippletail flashed one paw into the water and scooped a small silver fish out of the water in an arc of drops. It fell onto the dry streambed, where it flopped and wriggled until Petalfur killed it with a swipe.

  “There,” she meowed. “The other fish have probably fled into the darkest corners now, but at least we have one piece of fresh-kill.”

  “Come and share,” Rippletail offered. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted fish!”

  The two RiverClan cats watched with glowing eyes as their companions approached cautiously. Whitetail was the first to give the fish an experimental nibble.

  “Er…no, thanks,” she meowed, passing her tongue over her jaws. “I think I’ll stick to rabbit.”

  “So will I,” Sedgewhisker agreed, after barely tasting it. “Sorry, but I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”

  “I bet I could!” Tigerheart meowed, taking a huge mouthful. “It’s great!” he mumbled around it.

  Dovepaw waited for Toadfoot and Lionblaze to take a share, then crouched down in front of the fish and bit into it cautiously. The flavor was strong, and not unpleasant, though she much preferred mouse or squirrel.

  “Thanks, it’s really…different,” she mewed as she stepped back to let the RiverClan cats finish up the fish.

  As they moved on, she realized that she had fish all over her paws and whiskers. Mouse dung! Now I can’t smell anything else!
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  A little farther on the stream wound in a tight curve. Toadfoot, who had drawn some way ahead, halted. “Get up onto the bank now!” he ordered, spinning to face them.

  “Why? What’s the matter?” Lionblaze called.

  “Just do it!” Toadfoot hissed. His fur was fluffed up and his eyes were wide.

  His urgency spread to the other cats like a gust of wind. Dovepaw scrambled up the steep bank with her companions on either side of her, and Toadfoot led them under the trees, lashing his tail to hurry them along.

  Tigerheart, straying back toward the bank of the stream, glanced down and froze. “Oh…” he breathed.

  Curious, Dovepaw padded over to join him, aware of Toadfoot’s annoyed hiss behind her. Bile rose into her throat and she swallowed when she saw why Toadfoot had moved them on so quickly. A dead deer lay in the stream, its legs sticking out stiffly and blocking the way. Flies were buzzing around it, and a sweetish, rotting scent rose up to hang lazily in the air.

  Dovepaw backed away quickly as the other cats came to see what she and Tigerheart were staring at.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Toadfoot mewed, cutting across their expressions of disgust. “I scented it—only faintly, because the wind’s behind us—and I wanted to stay well clear.”

  “Quite right, too,” Whitetail responded. “It might have died because of some sickness.”

  “More likely it died of thirst,” Rippletail added sadly.

  The cats padded on, leaping down into the stream again once they had left the body of the deer far behind. A somber mood hung over them like a gray cloud; Dovepaw guessed that they were all thinking about how much their Clanmates needed water back at the lake.

  “I don’t understand,” Dovepaw muttered to Lionblaze. “I should have scented the deer before Toadfoot, and I didn’t.”

  Lionblaze shrugged. “Like he said, the wind was behind us. Besides…no offense, Dovepaw, but you smell like fish.”

  Dovepaw let out a sigh. “Maybe—but I should have been more alert.” What else have I missed?

  A few heartbeats later, Tigerheart dropped back to walk alongside her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

  “It was just a dead deer.” Dovepaw tried to sound as if the sight hadn’t shaken her. She didn’t want Tigerheart to start treating her like a helpless kit. “Look!” she meowed, angling her ears forward in the direction they were traveling. “The trees are thinning out!”

  Successfully distracted, Tigerheart bounded ahead to take a better look. The rest of the patrol quickened their pace, too, and climbed out of the streambed to stand in a line on the edge of the trees. Dovepaw gazed out across a field where fluffy grayish-white animals were nibbling at the grass.

  “What are they?” Petalfur exclaimed in surprise. “They look as if they’re made of cobwebs!”

  “Oh, they’re just sheep,” Whitetail replied. “We see them all the time in WindClan.”

  “Their pelts make good linings for nests,” Sedgewhisker added.

  Whitetail took the lead as the patrol crept out into the field, following the line of the stream. Dovepaw felt uncomfortably exposed with nothing between her and the open sky, and she was grateful for the experience of the WindClan cats. Then behind her she heard a loud yapping and the scent of dog flooded over her, swamping her senses. Whipping around, she saw a Twoleg walking along the edge of the wood with a small brown-and-white dog trotting at its heels.

  As soon as the dog scented the cats, it began racing toward them, yapping even louder. Dovepaw looked wildly around, but there were no trees to climb, except for the forest they had left.

  “Run!” Toadfoot yowled.

  Their paws pounding on the short grass, the patrol hurtled toward the opposite side of the field. Dovepaw cast a swift glance over her shoulder. “The dog’s gaining on us!” she gasped.

  Whitetail glanced back too, then let out a loud caterwaul. “Head for the sheep!”

  “What?” Tigerheart almost fell over his own paws as he whirled around. “Why the sheep?”

  “Twolegs never let dogs near sheep,” Whitetail panted. “Maybe sheep are dangerous to dogs. Anyway, if we can reach them, we should be safe.”

  As she raced toward the sheep, Dovepaw’s heart lurched with fear. But there was no choice, unless she wanted to stay out in the open with the dog. Along with the rest of the patrol, she dived among the legs of the weird animals.

  The sheep had bunched together, uttering high-pitched cries that seemed to show the sheep were scared of the dog. Dovepaw caught a glimpse of it among the bulky gray bodies, dancing around a few tail-lengths from the sheep and still yapping its head off. The sheep began to swirl across the field, moving in one giant group. The cats had no choice but to move with them, frantically dodging skinny legs and sharp hooves. Dovepaw was squashed among the warm, greasy cobweb pelts, and she lost sight of the others. Help! Where have they all gone?

  Above the noise of the sheep, she heard the Twoleg’s voice raised in a commanding yowl. The dog’s yapping broke off. Dovepaw couldn’t see it anymore, but she heard its paws falter on the grass and then retreat as it trotted reluctantly back to its Twoleg.

  Gradually the sheep slowed down, then stopped close to the hedge on the far side of the field, still letting out their piercing bleats. Dovepaw wriggled to the edge of the flock and spotted Tigerheart and Lionblaze emerging together a few tail-lengths away. Toadfoot followed them into the open, with Petalfur and Rippletail behind him. A few heartbeats later Whitetail and Sedgewhisker appeared farther down.

  “We need to get out of the field!” Whitetail called. “Go through the hedge!”

  Dovepaw obeyed, dragging herself under thorny branches that raked across her back, keeping her belly pressed to the dried leaves and debris on the ground. On the other side was a strip of grass with a stretch of black stone beyond it, where the patrol gathered together again and stood panting.

  Dovepaw’s eyes widened as she gazed at her companions. Their pelts were matted in clumps with wisps of sticky sheep-cobweb clinging to them, and a sour smell billowed around them like a cloud of flies. I’m just as bad, she thought disgustedly, pawing at a gray strand that clung to her shoulder. But at least none of us is hurt.

  She bent her head to lick her chest fur, wincing at the foul taste, only to look up, startled, a moment later as the sound of thunder rolled around her. The sky was clear blue, with only a few tiny wisps of cloud being tossed by the wind. But the thunderous noise was growing louder still, and a bitter, burning scent swept over her.

  Dovepaw glanced from side to side, confused by the noise and the stench and the sense of something huge and shining, solid as stone….

  “Get back!” Lionblaze screeched.

  He shoved Dovepaw and Petalfur into the prickly hedge. Dovepaw stumbled and half fell among the thorns as a gigantic silver creature roared past on round black paws.

  “What…what was that?” she stammered, picking herself up.

  “A monster,” Lionblaze told her, his voice tense. “They run along these Thunderpaths.” He waved his tail at the stretch of flat black stone. “We saw lots of them when we went to the Twolegplace to find Sol.”

  “We had to cross Thunderpaths on the Great Journey, too,” Whitetail added, “and there was one that went past the old forest. They’re dangerous; we all need to be very careful.”

  Dovepaw warily approached the edge of the Thunderpath and gave it an experimental sniff. Her nose wrinkled at the bitter scent. The rest of the patrol stood alongside her; Tigerheart set a paw cautiously on the hard black surface, then drew it back.

  “We’d better stop hanging around,” Lionblaze meowed, “and get across while it’s still quiet.” Padding over to Dovepaw, he murmured, “Is it safe? Are there any more monsters coming?”

  Dovepaw extended her senses, listening for another of the terrifying creatures, but there was nothing in either direction. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  “Right.”
Lionblaze raised his voice. “Follow me as quick as you can, and don’t stop!”

  He thrust off from the grass verge and bounded across the Thunderpath. Dovepaw followed, keeping her gaze fixed on him, but aware of the other cats running alongside. They reached the strip of grass on the far side only to be brought up short by a fence of shiny, crisscrossing silver stuff that stretched up far above Dovepaw’s head.

  “Now what do we do?” Rippletail wailed. “We can’t go any farther this way.”

  “Over here!” Toadfoot called from a few tail-lengths along the fence. “There’s a hole I think we can wriggle through.”

  He flattened himself to the ground and pulled himself forward through a narrow gap at the bottom of the fence, standing up a few heartbeats later on the grass on the other side. “Come on, it’s easy,” he urged his companions.

  Whitetail followed him through and then Dovepaw did the same, shivering at the touch of the hard Twoleg stuff against her back as she squirmed through the gap. The rest of the cats followed, with Lionblaze keeping watch until they were safely on the other side. Finally he struggled through, grunting with the effort as he pushed himself along.

  Dovepaw stood still, looking around. A smooth field stretched in front of her, the grass much greener than she had seen it anywhere else since the heat and the drought began. Beyond it were Twoleg nests built of some kind of red rock. Dovepaw had never imagined that there could be so many Twoleg nests all in one place. Noise poured out from them like clap after clap of thunder; she shook as the din swept around her, flooding her senses. Twolegs were screeching and chattering, banging and roaring, in an endless surge of sound.

  Desperately Dovepaw tried to block it out, to focus on the cats around her, and on what she could see directly in front of her. Only then did she realize what she couldn’t see.

  “Where’s the stream?” she gasped.

  CHAPTER 16