The Fourth Apprentice Read online

  Lionblaze didn’t scold her. He remembered what it had felt like to be an apprentice, desperate to prove himself and learn all the skills of a warrior. He liked this little she-cat; she was brave and curious, and he guessed she would learn quickly.

  Are you the One? he wondered as he watched her padding purposefully across the mud, her gaze flicking from side to side as if she was checking for the approach of ShadowClan cats. Or is it your sister? I wish StarClan would send us a sign.

  To his relief, there was no trace of ShadowClan patrols as the ThunderClan cats trekked across the mud. Lionblaze couldn’t help feeling as if hostile eyes were gazing at him from the undergrowth on the bank, but no cats appeared.

  The last of the sunlight was fading and the moon had risen above the trees by the time the patrol reached the edge of RiverClan territory.

  “You go ahead now,” Brambleclaw meowed to Rainstorm. “Lead us to your camp.”

  “There’s no need for you to go anywhere near our camp,” Rainstorm retorted, sounding a bit more belligerent now that he was back on his own territory. “I’ll be fine on my own from now on.”

  “I want Leopardstar to hear our side of what happened,” Brambleclaw replied; only a tiny flick of the tip of his tail told Lionblaze that he was irritated. “And if she offers us some fish in return for looking after you, we won’t say no.”

  “We don’t have any prey to share with other Clans,” Rainstorm snapped as he turned and led the way up the bank and onto RiverClan territory.

  The RiverClan cats had made their camp on a wedge of land between two streams. Usually the waters ran high, but now the land was completely dry. The lush growth of plants that normally edged the stream had wilted and shriveled, exposing soil baked hard by the sun. The smell of rotting weed and dead fish hung in the air like smoke.

  Lionblaze’s fur prickled. They were trespassing on another Clan’s territory, and even though they had good reason, the RiverClan cats might not see it that way.

  “Will they drive us off?” Dovepaw asked in a whisper.

  Lionblaze jumped; he had done his best to hide his worries from his apprentice, and he hadn’t expected her to be so perceptive. “It’s possible,” he whispered back. “If there’s any trouble, stay close to me. And keep your eyes and ears open.”

  As Rainstorm led the ThunderClan patrol across the dried-up streambed and up the bank on the other side, a gray-furred she-cat emerged from the undergrowth. Some of Lionblaze’s anxiety faded as he recognized Mistyfoot, the RiverClan deputy. Mistyfoot was a reasonable cat, and she had been friendly to ThunderClan in the past.

  But there was nothing friendly in Mistyfoot’s tone as her blue gaze swept over the patrol. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “And what happened to Rainstorm?”

  “These cats kept me in their camp—” Rainstorm began.

  “We allowed him to stay in our camp,” Brambleclaw interrupted. “Lionblaze and Thornclaw rescued him when he fell into a muddy hole at the edge of the lake. If it wasn’t for them, he would be hunting with StarClan by now.”

  “Is that true?” Mistyfoot asked Rainstorm.

  The RiverClan warrior ducked his head. “Yes. And I’m grateful to them. But then they said that they wouldn’t let me come back home unless Leopardstar gave them some fish.”

  “Really?” Mistyfoot’s ears twitched up and she turned an inquiring gaze on Brambleclaw.

  “We discussed that,” Brambleclaw admitted, sounding slightly awkward. “But Firestar said it would be breaking the warrior code. So we let Rainstorm rest through the worst of the heat, and now we’ve brought him back. May we speak to Leopardstar?” he added politely.

  “Leopardstar is busy.” Mistyfoot’s tone was unusually curt, and Lionblaze wondered if she was hiding something. “I’m grateful for your help,” she went on, “and if we had fish to spare I would give you some, but we don’t.”

  The two deputies were still for a couple of heartbeats, their gazes locked together. Lionblaze guessed that Brambleclaw was wondering whether to insist on seeing Leopardstar. Come on, Brambleclaw. You’re not going to win an argument, or a fight, right here in RiverClan’s camp!

  Beside him, Dovepaw stood with her ears alert and her whiskers twitching, while her brilliant golden gaze seemed to bore through the undergrowth right into the RiverClan camp.

  I wish she really could see what’s going on there, Lionblaze thought. There’s something that RiverClan isn’t telling us.

  Eventually Brambleclaw dipped his head. “Then we’ll say good-bye, Mistyfoot. Please give Firestar’s respects to Leopardstar. And may StarClan light your path.”

  Mistyfoot looked relieved. “And yours, Brambleclaw,” she replied. “Thank you for helping our warrior.” Beckoning to Rainstorm with her tail, she turned and disappeared into the undergrowth, heading for the center of the camp. Rainstorm gave an awkward nod to the ThunderClan cats, muttered, “Thanks,” and followed her.

  “Well!” Sorreltail exclaimed. “He could have sounded a bit more grateful! Any cat would think we’d pulled his tail out.”

  Brambleclaw shrugged. “No cat likes to admit they needed help from another Clan. Come on.” He bounded back across the dried-up stream, making rapidly for the edge of the territory. Brackenfur and Sorreltail kept pace with him, and Lionblaze and Dovepaw brought up the rear, glancing over their shoulders every now and then to make sure no RiverClan cats were following them.

  “Lionblaze,” Dovepaw panted as her shorter legs struggled to keep up, “was that blue-furred cat the RiverClan deputy?”

  “That’s right: Mistyfoot. She’s a great cat.”

  “She’s very worried, isn’t she?”

  Lionblaze was faintly surprised at his apprentice’s comment. He’d guessed there were things Mistyfoot wasn’t telling them, but he wouldn’t have said she was worried. “Every cat is worried about the drought and the shortage of prey,” he pointed out.

  Dovepaw shook her head. “Oh, I think it’s more than that, don’t you? I think she must be worried about the sick cat.”

  Lionblaze halted at the edge of the muddy bottom of the lake and stared at her. “What sick cat?”

  “There’s a very sick cat in the RiverClan camp,” Dovepaw meowed, her pale golden eyes wide with surprise. “Couldn’t you tell?”

  CHAPTER 5

  A paw clipping against her ear woke Dovepaw; keeping her eyes closed, she batted irritably at it. “Get off, Ivypaw! I need to sleep.” Nearly a moon had passed since the apprentice ceremony, and the day before, their mentors had given them their first assessment, on the far side of the territory. Dovepaw couldn’t remember ever being so tired. She’d never realized how nerve-racking it was to have invisible eyes watching her every move!

  The paw cuffed her again, lightly, but with a hint of claws.

  Dovepaw’s eyes flew open. “Ivypaw, if you don’t stop, I’ll—”

  She broke off, staring. Standing over her was a cat she had never seen before: a she-cat with matted gray fur and amber eyes. Her jaws were parted in the beginnings of a snarl, revealing two rows of snaggly teeth.

  Dovepaw sprang up into a crouch, ready to tackle this strange cat who had managed to sneak into ThunderClan’s camp. “Who are you? What do you want?” she growled, forcing her voice to stay steady.

  “You,” the strange cat replied.

  Struggling not to panic, Dovepaw gazed around the apprentices’ den. Moonlight filtering through the ferns that covered the entrance showed her Ivypaw and the rest of her denmates curled up and sound asleep.

  “Ivypaw!” Dovepaw gave her sister a hard shove. “Wake up! Help!”

  Ivypaw didn’t move. Dovepaw looked up at the intruder, fear giving way to anger. “What have you done to her?”

  “Nothing,” the she-cat replied, annoyance sparking in her amber eyes. “Now do as you’re told and follow me.”

  Dovepaw wanted to ask why she should do anything the she-cat told her, but something compelled her to rise to her paw
s and scramble out of the apprentices’ den. The clearing lay silent in a wash of moonlight, the shadows lying black against the silver walls. Toadstep, on guard at the entrance to the thorn tunnel, was as still as a cat made of stone, and didn’t twitch a whisker as the mysterious she-cat led Dovepaw out into the forest.

  This is weird, Dovepaw thought. What’s happening to me? Even the forest didn’t look familiar; the sparse, shriveled undergrowth was full and lush, and the grass underneath her paws felt cool and fresh.

  “Where are we going?” she called, stumbling over a fallen branch that lay in the shadow of a bramble thicket. “I shouldn’t be sneaking out at night like this. I’ll get into trouble….”

  “Stop complaining,” the gray she-cat snapped. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  She led Dovepaw through the trees; gradually the undergrowth thinned out and more moonlight broke through. A fresh breeze began to blow, bringing with it the scent of water. Dovepaw paused for a heartbeat to let it ruffle her fur, rejoicing in its coolness after so many days of unrelenting heat.

  “Come on.” The she-cat had halted beneath a tree a few fox-lengths ahead. “Come and look at this.”

  Dovepaw bounded over to her side and stared in astonishment. The trees gave way to a strip of rough grass; beyond it water stretched out almost as far as she could see, its ridged surface silvered by the moonlight. Gentle lapping filled her ears, steady as a queen licking a kit in the nursery.

  “This—this is the lake!” she stammered. “But it’s full! I’ve never seen so much water. Am I dreaming?”

  “At last!” the she-cat commented sarcastically. “Are they filling the apprentices’ heads with thistledown these days? Of course you’re dreaming.”

  For the first time Dovepaw noticed the faint shimmer of starlight around the she-cat’s paws. “Are you from StarClan?” she whispered.

  “I am,” the she-cat replied. “And once I was your Clanmate.”

  “Then can’t you do something to help ThunderClan?” Dovepaw asked; fear and excitement made her voice quiver. “We’re having such a hard time.”

  “Hard times come to every Clan in every season,” the old gray cat replied. “The warrior code doesn’t offer the promise of an easy life. There will be much debate and fighting—”

  “Fighting?” Dovepaw interrupted, horrified, then slapped her tail across her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Blood is spilled in every generation,” the she-cat went on. Her amber gaze softened, and Dovepaw became aware of an intense kindliness behind the rough exterior. “Yet there is always hope, just as the sun always rises.”

  Her figure began to fade; Dovepaw could see the silver waters of the lake through her gray fur.

  “Don’t go!” she begged.

  The gray she-cat faded even more, until she was barely a wisp of smoke, and then entirely gone. As the last traces of her faded, Dovepaw thought that she heard her voice again, whispering gently into her ear.

  After the sharp-eyed jay and the roaring lion, peace will come on dove’s gentle wing.

  Dovepaw woke with a start, her heart pounding, and sprang to her paws in one swift movement. I’m here in my den! So it was a dream…. Dawn light was filtering through the ferns at the entrance, and she could hear cats calling to one another in the clearing as they prepared for the new day.

  Beside her, Ivypaw twitched an ear and blinked open her eyes. “What’s the matter?” she muttered, her voice blurred with sleep. “Why are you jumping around like that?”

  Bumblepaw’s meow came from just behind Dovepaw, edged with annoyance. “Do you realize you just kicked moss all over me?”

  “Sorry!” Dovepaw gasped. She had been sleeping in the apprentices’ den for almost a moon, but she still wasn’t used to how crowded it was in there.

  Already the dream was breaking up into scraps, fluttering away like leaves in leaf-fall as she tried to recapture them. There was an old gray cat…a StarClan warrior. And the lake was full of water again. She realized that her legs were heavy with tiredness and her paws felt as sore as if she really had walked to the lake and back in the middle of the night. That’s mouse-brained! It was just a dream.

  But there had been something important about the dream. The StarClan warrior had given her a message. She dug her claws deep into her mossy bedding, trying to recall the words, but they were gone. She let out a faint snort, half-amused and half-irritated. Who do you think you are? A medicine cat? Why would a StarClan warrior come to give a message to you?

  Stretching her jaws in a huge yawn, she pushed the dream from her mind and wriggled out through the ferns into the clearing. The sky was growing brighter as the sun rose; the early patrols had left, and for a few heartbeats Dovepaw tracked Brackenfur and Sorreltail, who were stalking prey near the stream that marked the border with ShadowClan. Pricking her ears, she heard Sorreltail leap on a squirrel as it tried to escape up a tree, and Brackenfur padding over to touch his nose to her ear. “Great catch,” he murmured.

  Better not listen anymore, Dovepaw thought, shutting out Sorreltail’s loving purr and listening instead to a couple of starlings having a noisy quarrel in the branches of the dead tree. Letting her senses range farther over the territory, she picked up a yowl of pain from the dawn patrol on the WindClan border, and then Berrynose’s voice: “I trod on a thistle!”

  Dovepaw let out a little mrrow of amusement as she pictured the cream-colored warrior hopping indignantly on three paws while he tried to pull out the prickles with his teeth. If she knew Berrynose, he’d blame the thistle.

  “Great StarClan!” Dustpelt sounded angry and frustrated. “Will you sit still and let some cat help you? Rosepetal, sort him out, please, or we’ll be here all day.”

  “Just another day in ThunderClan,” Dovepaw whispered to herself.

  And what about your dream? A voice seemed to speak in her mind.

  “What about it?” Dovepaw muttered, firmly pushing the memories away again.

  Slipping back into the den, she gave Ivypaw a sharp prod in the side. “Wake up, lazybones! Let’s find Cinderheart and Lionblaze and see if they’ll take us hunting.”

  Pride tingled through Dovepaw from ears to tail-tip as she carried her prey—a mouse and a blackbird—over to the fresh-kill pile and dropped it in front of the warriors who were gathered close by.

  “Well done,” Graystripe meowed, glancing up from the vole he was sharing with his mate, Millie. “At that rate, you’ll be one of the best hunters in the Clan.”

  “And she’s been an apprentice for less than a moon,” Lionblaze added, padding up to deposit his own prey on the pile. “She seems to know what the prey is going to do even before the prey does.”

  Whitewing, who was sharing tongues with Birchfall nearby, let out a purr of approval. “Good. I’m glad to hear you’re working hard.”

  Dovepaw started to feel embarrassed. “I’m not that good,” she protested as she dropped her catch. She didn’t like being praised too much in front of Ivypaw, who had managed to kill only a single shrew. “I’ve just got a great mentor.”

  Then she went hot all over in case any cat thought she was criticizing Cinderheart. The gray she-cat didn’t seem to have noticed anything wrong as she and Ivypaw set their own prey down, though Ivypaw cast an envious glance at her sister.

  “Don’t be upset,” Dovepaw whispered. “It was just bad luck that you missed that squirrel.”

  Ivypaw gave an angry shrug. “Bad luck doesn’t fill bellies.”

  “You can each take a piece of prey,” Cinderheart meowed to the two apprentices. “You’ve worked hard this morning.”

  “Thanks!” Dovepaw chose a vole from the pile, and after hesitating Ivypaw took her own shrew. Dovepaw could sense that however hungry she was, her sister didn’t want to take more than she’d managed to contribute.

  Dovepaw’s belly was yowling too, but as she crouched down to eat she forced herself not to gulp the vole down in a couple of ravenous bites. The sun had r
isen over the tops of the trees, its rays beating down mercilessly, and there would be no more hunting until it set.

  “I don’t know how much longer this drought can go on,” Millie sighed, finishing her share of the vole and swiping her tongue over her whiskers. “How many more days without rain?”

  “Only StarClan knows,” Graystripe responded, touching his tail to his mate’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.

  “Then StarClan should do something about it!” Spiderleg looked up from where he sat on the other side of the fresh-kill pile with Hazeltail and Mousewhisker. “Do they expect us to survive without water?”

  “There’s hardly any left in the lake,” Hazeltail added sorrowfully. “And the stream has dried up completely between us and ShadowClan.”

  “So where has all the water gone?” Mousewhisker asked with an irritable flick of his ears.

  Dovepaw paused, puzzled, before taking another bite of her vole. “Don’t you know why the stream has dried up?” she asked. “Isn’t it because of the brown animals who are blocking it?”

  Spiderleg stared at her. “What brown animals?”

  Dovepaw swallowed her mouthful. “The ones who are dragging tree trunks and branches into the stream.”

  Glancing around, she realized that every cat beside the fresh-kill pile was staring at her. The vole she had just eaten suddenly weighed heavily in her belly. Why are they looking so confused?

  The silence seemed to stretch on for a season. Eventually Lionblaze spoke in a quiet voice. “Dovepaw, what exactly are you meowing about?”

  “The—the big brown animals,” she stammered. “They’re making a barrier in the stream, like our thorn barrier across the camp entrance. It’s stopping the water from flowing. There are Twolegs watching them.”

  “Twolegs!” Mousewhisker gave a snort of amusement. “Are they sprouting wings and flying as well?”

  “Don’t be silly!” Dovepaw snapped. “They’re watching the animals and pointing…something, some Twoleg stuff at them. Maybe the animals are blocking the river because the Twolegs told them to.”