Darkest Night

Alderheart froze as she lurched away. ShadowClan gasped around him. What was Scorchfur doing? No warrior should ever attack another warrior’s eyes! Tawnypelt shook her head, blinking. With a rush of relief, Alderheart saw that Scorchfur’s claws had only sliced her cheek. Her eyes shone, unharmed. She’d been lucky.

She showed her teeth, hatred twisting her face, as she advanced on Scorchfur. “You’re no better than a rogue.”

“Stop!” Tigerheart moved at last. Fast as a fox, he crossed the clearing and pushed between the two warriors.

Rowanstar stared, his gaze stricken with shock. “We mustn’t fight.”

Alderheart backed away from the bristling cats. It’s not safe here. No one’s in control. He nudged Willowshine toward the camp entrance. Puddleshine’s light blue eyes were round with shock. He gazed imploringly at Alderheart.

There nothing I can do. Guilt squeezed Alderheart’s belly. He retreated through the entrance, beckoning Willowshine after him.

“Poor Puddleshine,” Willowshine mewed as they hurried away from the camp. “Should we have stayed?”

“It’s not our fight,” he told her. And I didn’t want to put you in danger. “I think ShadowClan needs to be alone to sort out their differences.” Alderheart padded quickly over the needle-strewn earth. ShadowClan seemed more like a group of rogues than a Clan. Fear hollowed his belly. What if they can’t recover from all that has happened to them? What if they aren’t strong enough to remain a Clan?

CHAPTER 12

The gorge was smaller than Violetpaw had imagined. Its sandy walls glowed yellow in the evening sun, but its depths were swathed in purple shadow. The scent of water mingled with the fragrant tang of the scrubby bushes that clung to the sides of the narrow canyon.

Beside her, Hawkwing stood as still as a rock. Blossomheart, Rabbitleap, and Molewhisker flanked them, their pelts dusty from the journey.

Hawkwing’s gaze was fixed on the ravine he’d called home for so long. “Listen.”

Violetpaw pricked her ears, wondering what she was meant to be listening to.

“Can you hear it?” Hawkwing’s words were hardly more than a breath.

“What?” Molewhisker blinked at him.

Blossomheart’s eyes shone. “The stream.”

Violetpaw leaned forward. Through the soft whisper of the wind, she could hear a stream echoing far below.

Hawkwing looked at her, his yellow eyes clouded. “That sound will always remind me of home.”

For the first time, Violetpaw felt distance between them. He’d seen so much that she’d not shared. She hoped that, one day, the sound of the stream in their new home would touch him the same way.

He padded to the edge, his paws showering grit into the gorge. Violetpaw could see by the stiff way he held his tail that he was anxious. She could understand why. Although she didn’t know every detail of the story, she knew that the rogues had driven SkyClan from their home many moons ago. Some cats, unable or unwilling to make the long journey in search of the other Clans, had stayed nearby. Hawkwing was hoping that some of them would have returned to the gorge.

Paw steps scuffed the ground behind them.

Violetpaw spun around. Two young cats raced toward them, ears flat, teeth showing. One was a black-and-white she-cat; the other a tan tom. She backed up against Hawkwing, her heart lurching.

The she-cat skidded to a halt in front of the patrol and glared at Molewhisker. “What are you doing here?”

“This is our land!” The tom stopped beside her and hissed.

Molewhisker glanced coolly at Hawkwing. He was clearly unruffled by the two young cats. They were hardly bigger than Violetpaw. They were certainly no match for warriors. “Are these your Clanmates?” the ThunderClan warrior asked Hawkwing.

Hawkwing shrugged. “I’ve never seen them before.”

The black-and-white she-cat bristled. “I don’t know who you are, but get off our territory!” Her amber eyes flashed with hostility.

Violetpaw admired her courage. “We’re looking for our Clanmates.”

The she-cat’s gaze snapped to her. “Then you’re looking in the wrong Clan,” she snarled.

“Palepaw!” A meow sounded behind the she-cat. A black-and-white tom padded from the gorse and flicked his tail. “We should welcome our friends.”

“They’re not friends.” The tan tom curled his lips. “They’re probably rogues. We should drive them away.”

“You’re not driving anyone away, Gravelpaw.” The black-and-white tom padded closer, his eyes glowing.

Violetpaw heard her father’s breath quicken.

“Fidgetpaw!” Hawkwing sounded like he could hardly believe his eyes.

Fidgetpaw whisked his tail. “Hawkwing!” He broke into a run.

Palepaw frowned angrily. “Do you know these cats?”

Fidgetpaw pushed past her. “Of course I know them. They’re SkyClan cats. Hawkwing’s father was Sharpclaw.”

“Sharpclaw?” Gravelpaw sounded surprised. “The old deputy?”