Erin Hunter - Long Shadows

Brambleclaw dipped his head. “That’s an offer worthy of a warrior,” he replied. “But the Clan values every cat, from the newest kit to the most senior elder.” His amber eyes glinted. “I know you already asked Firestar, and he said no. Don’t think you can get around me.”

“Pesky young cat… thinks he knows everything,” Mousefur muttered, turning her back.

Instead of going to their dens, the remains of the Clan huddled together in the center of the clearing, as if they were waiting for something. Lionblaze crouched beside his sister, his fur standing on end. The camp felt strange, as if it wasn’t their home anymore. The stench of sickness still hung around it, and an eerie quiet covered everything.

“I don’t like this,” Hollyleaf whispered. “I wonder how many of the sick cats will ever come back.”

Don’t . Lionblaze dug his claws hard into the ground. “It’s in the paws of StarClan,” he muttered, knowing how hypocritical he was being.

It seemed a long time, though the shadows had crept no more than a mouse-length across the hollow, before Leafpool and Jaypaw returned.

“Good, you’re all here,” Leafpool meowed, padding toward the gathering of cats. “Jaypaw, fetch me those strengthening herbs from our den.” As Jaypaw bounded off, she continued, “Every scrap of bedding has to be taken out of the dens and into the forest, and fresh bedding brought in.”

“What?” Icepaw, who had been grooming herself drowsily, raised her head. “I’ve been dragging moss around all day. Do we really have to get more? I’m worn out!”

“Every cat is worn out,” Spiderleg added. “Can’t it wait until morning?”

“Sure it can, if you want more cats to get sick,” Leafpool retorted. Her tone softened as she added, “Every cat will be helping this time. It won’t take long.”

Jaypaw came back with the herbs, dropping a few leaves in front of every cat. Lionblaze felt his aching limbs fill with warmth as he swallowed them.

“Let’s get going,” he mewed to Hollyleaf. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be done.”

All the warriors headed out of the camp to fetch fresh moss and bracken, while Icepaw, helped by Mousefur and Squirrelflight, cleared the old bedding out of the dens and carried it as far as the barrier to be disposed of outside. Leafpool and Jaypaw checked the dens to make sure not a scrap of it remained behind. By the time it was all gone, and fresh bedding installed, the taint of sickness that had hung about the camp for so long had almost vanished.

“This is better,” Hollyleaf murmured as she settled down inside the warriors’ den beside Lionblaze. “Except it’s strange with so many cats missing. I hope Firestar’s plan works.”

Lionblaze was already sliding into sleep, his eyes closed and his tail wrapped over his nose. He was too exhausted for his worries to keep him awake, but as he slid into darkness his mind filled with a vision of catmint: thick, lush clumps of it, growing among rocks on the edge of the moor, just as Jaypaw had described. He leaped forward to bite off the stems, only to halt, trembling, on the bank of a river.

The stream that marked the border with WindClan had swollen into a rushing scarlet torrent. The air was filled with the stench of blood, and the grasses on the edge of the river where Lionblaze stood were spattered with it.

He took a step back, horrified at the thought of blood sticking to his paws, and stiffened as he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Are you scared, little warrior?” Tigerstar taunted him.

“Where’s this power of yours now?”

Every muscle in Jaypaw’s body was yowling with exhaustion as he finished sniffing around the elders’ den to make sure that every scrap of the tainted bedding had been removed. He stumbled back into the clearing and padded up to Leafpool.

“It’s okay,” he reported.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” his mentor meowed.

“Brambleclaw and Cinderheart have just brought us some fresh moss.”

Jaypaw opened his jaws to protest that he could keep going as long as any cat, then thought better of it. His job and Leafpool’s was finished for now; there was no reason why he couldn’t catch up on his sleep. But tired as he was, his paws were itching and his mind whirling; he knew his thoughts would keep him awake.

“Thanks,” he replied, “but I’d like to go out for a while.”

“Fine.” Leafpool sounded faintly surprised. “Be careful, won’t you?”

“Sure.” Jaypaw wished she wouldn’t keep trying to mother him. He had Squirrelflight for that; Leafpool was just his mentor. He took off at a trot through the tunnel, where he passed Whitewing and Birchfall returning with bundles of bedding, and headed for the lake.

Pushing through the last of the undergrowth, Jaypaw paused at the top of the bank overlooking the water. He could hear the soothing lap of waves on the shore, and the faint scrape of pebbles. Scenting carefully, he made his way to the hollow under the tree roots where he had hidden the stick.

As he laid his paws on the scratch marks, the whispers of the long-ago warriors rose up around him. He strained to hear them clearly, but just as before, they stayed out of his reach.

“Rock, don’t you have a message for me?” he meowed aloud.

His head spun with thoughts of everything that had happened: the mysterious appearance of Sol, and the fake sign that had become real and driven him from ShadowClan; the terrible sickness, and Firestar taking the sick cats away from the stone hollow… Jaypaw felt as if he were a leaf spinning in eddies of wind.

It’s all escaping from me, like prey running too fast. I’m supposed to have power, but I can’t control anything.

“Has it always been like this for the Clans?” he murmured.

“Fighting one battle after another? And some battles no cat can win. I wonder if it was sickness that drove the first cats away from the lake?”

Yet again he ran his paws over the scratches, the record of the cats who had emerged victorious from their test in the tunnels, and of those who had never come out. The whispers wafted around him like faint puffs of breeze, but Jaypaw still couldn’t make out their meaning.

“What’s the use of you if I can’t hear you?” he protested.

“Speak up a little, please. Tell me how to fight the sickness, or what I can say to Lionblaze to make him fetch the catmint.”

But the gentle whispering didn’t change. Sighing, Jaypaw lay down with his chin on the stick, and closed his eyes.

Damp soaking into his belly fur woke Jaypaw. His muscles felt stiff and cramped with cold as he raised his head and looked around. He was in the underground cave, lit by a trickle of daylight from the roof far above his head. The river f lowed past him a couple of tail-lengths away.

Jaypaw staggered to his paws. He expected to see Rock, but the ledge where the ancient cat usually crouched was empty, and there was no sign of him anywhere in the cave.

Soft paw steps sounded behind Jaypaw; he spun around to see a ginger-and-white tom standing at the entrance to one of the tunnels. His green eyes looked haunted and somber, as if he couldn’t shake off the memory of drowning when rain flooded the tunnels.

“Fallen Leaves!” Jaypaw exclaimed.

“I didn’t think you would come back.” Aching loneliness vibrated in the ancient cat’s voice. “Are you going to stay with me this time?”

Sympathy stabbed Jaypaw, sharp as a thorn in his pad. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be trapped down here, alone, for countless seasons. The last time he had seen