Erin Hunter - The Sight

“Graystripe?” Cinderpaw guessed, tipping her head to one side.

“Graystripe!” Poppypaw echoed excitedly.

Cinderpaw ran in an excited circle. “Can I tell Cloudtail?

Oh, please?” Without waiting for an answer, she charged toward the warriors’ den, calling her mentor’s name.

Cloudtail appeared at the den entrance, his sleep-ruffled pelt glowing in the moonlight. “What’s the matter, Cinderpaw?” he complained.

“Graystripe is back!”

Brackenfur pushed past Cloudtail and stood outside the den. “Graystripe?” He stared, blinking, across the clearing, then raced toward his old friend.

“Graystripe’s back!” Cloudtail yowled. As he bounded over to greet his Clanmate, Stormfur and Whitewing burst from the den, mewing excitedly.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Brackenfur murmured, touching muzzles with Graystripe.

“Firestar was right!” Stormfur added, pushing past Brackenfur. “He told us you’d find your way back!”

Graystripe stared at Stormfur—his son—in astonishment.

“Do you live with ThunderClan now?”

“What’s all this noise?” Mousefur’s grumpy mew sounded as the old she-cat squeezed stiffly out through the tangled entrance of the elders’ den.

Longtail appeared behind her, his blind eyes staring blankly ahead. He sniffed the air. Even in the dim light of the moon, Hollypaw saw the fur prick along his spine. “I smell Graystripe,” he meowed.

“Graystripe?” Mousefur scoffed. “You’re dreaming.”

“He’s not dreaming,” Firestar promised.

Graystripe pushed his way out through the knot of warriors in the center of the clearing. “It really is me,” he meowed.

“Great StarClan!” Mousefur raced over to Graystripe and ran her tail along his flank. “How in Silverpelt did you find us?”

Sandstorm stepped forward. “It’s a long story that can wait till morning,” she meowed softly. “Graystripe and Millie are exhausted.”

“Millie?” Mousefur glanced at the stranger standing beside Graystripe.

“Millie helped me make the journey here,” Graystripe explained. “She is my mate now.”

Mousefur narrowed her eyes, and Hollypaw’s belly tightened with anxiety. How would the crotchety elder react?

Warriors were not supposed to find mates outside their Clan, and certainly not kittypet mates.

But Mousefur only dipped her head to Millie. “Still breaking the rules, I see, Graystripe,” she mewed.

Hollypaw flicked the tip of her tail uneasily. The Clan seemed ready to accept Millie, but what did StarClan think about it? She glanced at Firestar. Perhaps having a leader with kittypet roots meant it was okay. The most important thing was that Millie had proved herself a warrior by helping Graystripe find his way back to the Clan. They had both survived, and that must mean StarClan approved of her.

A shadow by the warriors’ den caught her eye. Brook had woken up. The mountain cat padded over to Stormfur and murmured in his ear.

Jaypaw emerged from the apprentices’ den, his nose twitching. “What’s going on?”

Lionpaw bounded over to him. “Graystripe’s back!”

Jaypaw turned his sightless gaze toward Graystripe and Millie. “Who’s with him?”

“His new mate,” Cinderpaw explained. “From Twolegplace.”

Jaypaw wrinkled his nose. “Well, tell Leafpool she’s got an infected wound. I can smell it from here.”

“Brambleclaw!” Firestar called to his deputy. “Find nests for Graystripe and Millie in the warriors’ den.”

Brambleclaw padded away with a nod.

Hollypaw was aware of a growing murmuring among the cats.

“Graystripe’s not as big as I imagined,” Cinderpaw whispered. “He looks small next to Brambleclaw.”

“He smells of crow-food,” Jaypaw mewed.

“He must have been eating like a loner for moons,” Lionpaw pointed out. “Once he starts eating like a warrior again, he won’t seem so small.”

Whitewing looked uneasily at Squirrelflight. “What will happen now? Who is our deputy?”

Squirrelflight’s gaze flicked anxiously from Graystripe to the warriors’ den entrance, where Brambleclaw had disappeared. “I don’t know.”

Firestar gazed steadily at his Clanmates. “Nothing is going to change right now. We should just be grateful that Graystripe has returned to his Clan.”

“There’s no room in the den for two new nests,” Brambleclaw informed Firestar, returning. “One, maybe, but that’s all.”

“It doesn’t matter where we sleep, but I want to stay with Millie,” Graystripe mewed wearily.

“You shall,” Firestar promised. “We were going to expand the den anyway.”

“We’d rather sleep separate from the others at first,” Graystripe told him. “Just till we get used to being around so many cats again.”

“There’s an alcove behind the warriors’ den,” Brightheart suggested. “The ground is grassy there, so it’s soft.”

“And there are plenty of brambles left from when we cleared the entrance to the medicine den,” Leafpool put in.

“If we arranged them in front, the alcove would be sheltered.”

Firestar looked at Graystripe. “You’d prefer this?”

The gray warrior nodded.

Hollypaw jumped to her paws. As a medicine cat apprentice she knew that she must take care of the new arrivals.

Their bedding would need to be warm and comfortable, and they should have herbs to help them recover from their long journey.

“Brackenfur, Cloudtail, and Brambleclaw,” Firestar called, “start moving the brambles.”

“Yes, Firestar.” Brambleclaw hurried away to the browned and brittle brambles pushed into the shadows beside the medicine den. Brackenfur and Cloudtail followed.

“Can I help?” Cinderpaw begged.

Brackenfur stopped and turned, ready to answer, but Cinderpaw was already hurtling toward him. She careened into him, and fell backward, tumbling tail over whiskers.

“Sorry, Brackenfur!” she mewed, scrambling to her feet, her eyes filled with dismay.

Brackenfur purred at his daughter. “You’re always a tail-length ahead of yourself, Cinderpaw,” he meowed. “You remind me of my sister when she was an apprentice.”

“Come on, Cinderpaw!” Cloudtail called. “Help me drag this bramble over to the alcove.”

“Sorry,” Cinderpaw mewed again, and raced over to help her mentor.

By the time dawn broke over the camp, spilling pinks and oranges over the cloud-dappled sky, the den was finished.

With a sleepy nod of thanks, Graystripe and Millie padded inside.

On the other side of the clearing, Sandstorm and Spiderleg were leading Honeypaw and Mousepaw out of the camp on the dawn patrol. Brambleclaw and Cloudtail headed to their den to sleep. Hollypaw stayed with Leafpool outside the makeshift den and admired their work.

“That moss you collected will keep them warm,” she mewed. Leafpool had gathered a little from each of the dens, and Hollypaw had helped her shape it into a comfortable nest for Graystripe and Millie. Graystripe might be ThunderClan’s rightful deputy; Hollypaw wanted to make his nest as cozy as possible.

“Should I fetch them some herbs?” Hollypaw offered.

“Jaypaw said that Millie’s got an infected wound.”

“How did he know?” Leafpool looked at her in surprise.

Hollypaw shrugged. “He smelled it.” She was groping for the name of some leaf or seed that might help, but after all the excitement of building the den, her mind felt too fuzzy.

“We’ll make sure we see to it come sunhigh,” Leafpool told her. “Right now, Graystripe and Millie need rest more than anything else.”

Hollypaw stifled a yawn.

Leafpool gazed down at her. “You must be tired too,” she observed.