Erin Hunter - Dawn

“You are watching the moon for signs?” he meowed.

“I was thinking of the Gatherings,” Leafpaw mewed.

“Gatherings?” Stoneteller looked puzzled.

“In the time before we left, the four Clans would meet in peace only at full moon.”

“Clans did not live in harmony?”

“Not always,” Leafpaw admitted. “Unlike you, we had clear boundaries between our hunting territories.”

Stoneteller glanced around. “Trouble has brought you together,” he observed.

“But there will always be boundaries between us,” Leafpaw insisted.

“Why? Together you find food easier.”

“There have always been four Clans. Loyalty to our own Clan makes us strong.”

“But you all share a belief in your StarClan?”

“We will all become warriors in StarClan eventually,” Leafpaw murmured. She gazed at the moon, a blurred white disk behind the falling water.

Stoneteller’s eyes glowed. “You are still a to-be, yet you are wise.”

Feeling her ears grow hot with embarrassment, Leafpaw looked away.

“We will have a gathering of our own tonight,” Stoneteller went on. He raised his voice. “Cats of the Clans and of the Tribe, we have not celebrated our deliverance from Sharptooth,” he meowed. “Instead we grieved for Feathertail, who died saving us. But tonight we shall honor the cats who came from far away and killed the terrible creature.”

Mews of agreement rose among the Tribe cats. The kits mewed with excitement, and the boldest of them padded over to where Tallpoppy’s kits played with Birchkit.

“Come and share with us,” the Tribe kit offered.

Birchkit glanced at his mother, who nodded, her eyes shining with warmth. Tallpoppy and Dawnflower quickly gave their approval, and the Clan kits wasted no time in following the Tribe kit across the cave.

One by one, the Tribe cats got to their paws and took a piece of fresh-kill from the pile. They placed each piece solemnly at the paws of a Clan cat until every cat had been served. The Clan cats watched and waited, unsure what to do.

Leafpaw’s eyes widened in surprise as Crag dropped a rabbit at her paws.

“May I share with you?” he asked.

She nodded shyly.

Stoneteller padded to the center of the cave. “We feast in honor of Feathertail,” he declared. “Her spirit will live forever in the Tribe of Endless Hunting. We honor too the cats who refused to desert us and returned to fulfill the prophecy of our ancestors.” He dipped his head in turn to Brambleclaw, Squirrelpaw, Tawnypelt, Crowpaw, and Stormfur, who each straightened proudly.

“Now let us eat!” Stoneteller called, his mew echoing around the cave.

Crag took a bite from the rabbit he had laid on the ground and then pushed it over to Leafpaw. Guessing this was a custom of the Tribe, she took a bite and passed it back to him.

Back in the forest, the cats had shared food too, but there was usually enough fresh-kill for each cat to have a whole piece each. She wondered if the Tribe’s formal sharing ritual arose from the scarcity of prey in the mountains.

After the meal, the cats lay, full-bellied, and quietly shared tongues. Tallstar limped to the center of the cave and gazed around at the cats until they fell silent. Onewhisker crept to his side, supporting the WindClan leader’s frail body with his own.

“Who’s that skinny old raven?” mewed a Tribe kit.

“Hush!” His mother cuffed him sharply. “That’s a very noble Clan leader!”

But though he had to lean on the young warrior, Tallstar’s eyes shone with as much strength and determination as a leader on his first life, rather than his last. “Crowpaw?”

The WindClan apprentice looked up, bewildered.

“Crowpaw has served his Clan with bravery and loyalty.”

Tallstar’s voice cracked as he stifled a cough. “He should have received his warrior name long ago,” he rasped. “But the tragedies of the past moons have prevented this. Tonight, if Stoneteller will do me the kindness of letting a Clan ceremony into his Tribe’s home, I wish to honor Crowpaw’s great skill and courage by giving him his warrior name.”

Murmurs of agreement rose from the WindClan cats, but they turned to mews of surprise as Crowpaw stepped forward. This wasn’t part of the warrior naming ceremony.

“May I ask something, Tallstar?” he mewed.

Tallstar narrowed his eyes and nodded for him to go on.

“I would like to choose my own warrior name. If it is all right, I wish to be known as Crowfeather.” Crowpaw spoke so quietly, his voice was almost lost in the pounding water. “I wish to keep alive the memory of… of the cat who did not return from the first journey.”

Stormfur’s ears flicked, and he stared down at his paws.

There was a long pause; then Tallstar announced, “A noble request. Very well. I name you Crowfeather. May StarClan protect you and accept you as a WindClan warrior in life as well as after.”

The WindClan cats jumped up and went over to congratulate their Clanmate.

“That was a brilliant idea!” Squirrelpaw bounded over to Crowfeather’s side. Brambleclaw, Tawnypelt, and Stormfur joined her.

“It’s a great name,” Tawnypelt agreed as Brambleclaw wound his lean body around Crowfeather, purring. Stormfur touched his muzzle to Crowfeather’s flank as if he were too moved to speak.

“Thank you,” Crowfeather murmured. He gazed past them at the waterfall, turned silver by the light of the moon.

“I will sit my vigil tonight beside Feathertail’s grave.”

Leafpaw watched as he slipped away from his friends and Clanmates and padded out of the cave.

“So he’s a warrior now, yes?” Crag asked her, his eyes shining with curiosity.

“Yes.” Leafpaw got to her paws. “Thank you for sharing with me,” she murmured. The lonely moon called her from the crowded den, and she longed to search the clear sky for Silverpelt.

Padding out from behind the waterfall, she scrambled up the rocks and sat high above the pool where the tumbling water foamed and surged. The stars glittered overhead as Leafpaw gazed down to where Crowfeather sat vigil. He was sitting with his head bowed beside the low mound of rocks that marked Feathertail’s grave. Was she really with the Tribe of Endless Hunting rather than StarClan? Make her welcome, whoever you are , Leafpaw begged silently.

She watched Crowfeather for a moment, her heart aching for his loss. Then she lifted her head and stared around the peaks, wondering if StarClan watched him too. There was a tranquillity in this high place she had not felt since she lay beneath the trees in the forest. In the bright moonlight, something caught her eye on a small ledge opposite the cave entrance, and Leafpaw thought she saw two silver pelts glowing beneath the stars. She was almost certain that two cats stood there, looking down at Crowfeather; one was slightly taller than the other, but their pelts were marked by the same mottled shadows, as though they were kin.

Feathertail and Silverstream ?

Leafpaw blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the silver cats had vanished.

Squirrelpaw hurried after Stormfur along a rocky trail that only days ago had been buried beneath a tail-length of snow. He seemed determined to cross most of the mountains in search of prey. The rocks echoed with the drip, drip, drip of melting ice. Even the deepest snowdrifts were thawing. Dark gray rainclouds rolled toward the mountains, carried on a milder wind that was releasing the peaks from the grip of the snow and ice.