Erin Hunter - Cloudstar’s Journey

Twoleg nests! The Twolegs are building new nests on SkyClan’s territory!

Cloudstar looked around him. This was his home! Not the Twolegs’! Cloudstar felt a pain in his chest as if a Clanmate had died. There would be no chance to reclaim this part of the territory. It was lost forever, to Twolegs and their kits and monsters. Would they stop here? Or keep swallowing up the forest, tree by tree, until nothing remained? Cloudstar felt a yowl rise in his throat, and he tipped back his head and let his cry echo his despair across the half-built stone nests.

“My home! My precious home!”

His legs felt heavy as stone as he made his way back to the camp. What was he going to tell the Clan? They deserved to keep some whisker of hope. Perhaps Cloudstar didn’t have to force them to face the truth yet—at least, not until he had figured out a way for them to survive this. When he crawled through the brambles, he knew this was not the time to tell them anything. A soft keening sound came from Fawnstep’s den; it was Starlingfeather and Hawksnow, mourning their denmate.

Fawnstep squeezed through the entrance to her den and trotted over to meet Cloudstar. “Petalfall died a few moments ago,” she mewed. Her eyes were clouded with sorrow. “She was peaceful at the end. She slept well after you promised her SkyClan would be okay.”

Cloudstar closed his eyes. Run swiftly to StarClan, Petalfall. Don’t look back. Your Clanmates will miss you, always .

Starlingfeather and Hawksnow emerged from Fawnstep’s den, rumps first, as they carefully dragged Petalfall’s body into the sunlight.

“We will sit vigil for her today,” Fawnstep explained to Cloudstar. “It’s so hot, we must bury her body at dusk.”

Cloudstar nodded. “Do you have enough herbs?” he asked. Quailheart had followed the elders out with a mouthful of soft green leaves, and was strewing them over Petalfall’s fur so that the clearing filled with their grassy scent.

“I think so,” Fawnstep replied. She looked at the nursery, her eyes troubled. “I’ll go tell Hazelwing so she can prepare the kits. Cloudstar, it’s rare I would give any orders to my Clan leader, but please, don’t go out on patrol today. You need to rest as much as any of us, and without you, the Clan will have no hope at all.” She ran her tail lightly along her spine as she padded away.

Cloudstar walked over and lay down beside Petalfall’s head. Her eyes were closed, and she looked as if she were sleeping. Go well in StarClan, my old friend . The air stirred beside him, and Birdflight sat down. She was already panting from the heat.

“Do you want to move to the shade?” Cloudstar suggested, but Birdflight shook her head.

“My place is here, beside Petalfall,” she meowed.

“It’s like another piece of our past has been ripped away, along with the trees,” Cloudstar murmured as he rested his muzzle on Petalfall’s herb-sweet cheek.

“I know,” mewed Birdflight. “Fawnstep told me you promised Petalfall everything would be fine, and SkyClan would not lose its home, but how can you be so certain? We cannot fight the Twolegs!”

“StarClan is watching over us,” Cloudstar reminded his mate. “If we give up, we are only showing that we don’t trust them to keep us safe. Have faith in them, especially now that Petalfall walks among the stars, too.”

“I wanted her to meet our kits,” Birdflight whispered.

“She will see them from wherever she is,” Cloudstar vowed.

Buzzardtail sent out the early patrols, leading one group himself before joining Cloudstar beside Petalfall. Hazelwing had ushered her kits past, the four of them wide-eyed with curiosity at the unmoving cat. Emberkit had tried to lick Petalfall’s ear to see if she tasted different now, and received a clout over her own ear from her angry mother. The whole camp was quieter than usual, muffled by sadness, yet the sun had scarcely reached the treetops before the rumbling of the monsters started up, and now Petalfall’s fur quivered gently from the tremors through the earth.

Buzzardtail settled beside Cloudstar for his vigil. They sat in silence, breathing in the scent of the herbs, each with his own memories of the former deputy. Birdflight had retreated to the shade, where she lay on her side, panting in spite of the soaked moss Fawnstep had placed beneath her head.

Suddenly the brambles crackled and Mousefang burst into the clearing. “Fetch Fawnstep!” she cried.

Behind her, Nightfur’s black pelt emerged from the thorns, rump first as he guided his apprentice Oakpaw through the branches. The gray tabby tom was smeared with mud and held one front paw off the ground, wincing every time he lurched forward on his other three legs. Cloudstar leaped to his feet.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Nightfur was grim faced. “We were hunting at the edge of the trees.” He nodded toward the border ravaged by Twolegs. “Oakpaw found a squirrel and chased it onto the empty ground, where the Twolegs are laying red stones. He fell into a ditch they must have dug.”

Fawnstep had run from her den by now and was sniffing Oakpaw’s shoulder. “You’re lucky,” she commented. “I don’t think any bones are broken. Come to my den and I’ll find something to help with the pain.” She led Oakpaw away, letting him rest his weight on her shoulder.

Buzzardtail came to join Cloudstar and Nightfur. “Fawnstep’s right,” he growled. “Oakpaw was lucky to get off so lightly. He could have broken his neck!”

Cloudstar nodded. “It’s too dangerous to try to hunt there anymore. From now on, no cat must go anywhere near the new border, not even if all the squirrels in the forest are sitting on the other side.”

Nightfur looked at him in surprise. “But we have to eat!”

“More importantly, we have to stay alive,” Cloudstar pointed out. “That territory no longer belongs to SkyClan. The Twolegs have stolen it from us, and there is nothing we can do. We will have to look for some other way to find enough food.”

“Weaselwhisker, you take Fernpelt, Stoatfur, and Acornpaw and hunt along the river. You might get lucky and find a vole’s nest, if you don’t mind getting your paws wet. Mousefang, your patrol can hunt—”

“Buzzardtail, wait!” Cloudstar ordered, striding out of his den. He dipped his head to the deputy, apologizing for interrupting him. “No cats will hunt today. I want all of them—warriors as well as apprentices—to do battle training.”

Buzzardtail stared at him in surprise. “But the fresh-kill pile is almost empty! With so little prey in the forest, we have to hunt as much as we can!”

“No,” meowed Cloudstar, his heart as heavy as stone. His eyes burned from his sleepless night, thrashing in his nest as he realized there was only one chance left to find enough food for his Clan. “We have to fight.”

“We can’t take on the Twolegs!” Weaselwhisker protested.

Cloudstar shook his head. “Not the Twolegs. ThunderClan. We need to take back the territory that Duskstar gave to them. Without it, we don’t have enough hunting grounds to support the Clan.”

Buzzardtail gave Cloudstar a long, thoughtful look. “Duskstar would have done the same,” he mewed quietly. “You’re not breaking the warrior code.”

Cloudstar wasn’t even sure that Duskstar—or any StarClan cats—were watching SkyClan anymore. His dreams had been empty since that night the former leaders had reassured him of how strong SkyClan was, how they would live in the forest forever.