Fading Echoes

In answer, Lionblaze turned and headed for the camp entrance. Jayfeather let the thoughts and feelings of his Clanmates flood his mind for a moment, searching for any signs of need. All was well. Satisfied, he followed his brother out of the camp.

Lionblaze was already pounding through the trees toward the lake. As Jayfeather caught up to him, the scent of the water bathed his tongue.

“I can see RiverClan fishing,” Lionblaze told him.

A cool, damp breeze rushed through the trees, sending leaves showering onto their pelts. The lake rippled and splashed below.

“So, what’s up?” Jayfeather broached the question.

Before Lionblaze could answer, bushes farther along the shore crackled, and Briarpaw and Bumblepaw came crashing out of the undergrowth, dragging a fat rabbit between them.

They halted and Jayfeather could feel the happiness pulsing from their pelts. Graystripe and Millie’s kits were growing fast. They’d be warriors come leaf-bare.

“Impressive catch,” Lionblaze praised. “Where’d you find it?”

“It was grazing by the stream.” Bumblepaw was out of breath.

“It was me who caught it,” Briarpaw boasted.

“Only because I blocked its escape.” Bumblepaw’s purr rumbled deep in his throat.

“You just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” Briarpaw retorted.

The leaves rustled on the forest floor as the littermates fell into a mock fight, tumbling between the slender trees. Jayfeather could sense the strength beneath their pelts. Their minds were filled with green flashes from running through the woods, a mixture of prey-scent and falling leaves and their own fearless pride. A sudden, fierce gladness caught him. ThunderClan was lucky to have cats like these.

“They’ll make great warriors,” Lionblaze whispered, echoing Jayfeather’s thoughts.

“Yes,” Jayfeather agreed, remembering the long, anxious days he’d nursed Briarpaw and Millie through a severe bout of greencough.

“You shouldn’t leave prey unattended!” Lionblaze called to the two young cats. “Some warrior might claim it for his own.”

The apprentices scrambled back to them, panting.

“Paws off!” Bumblepaw warned good-naturedly.

“Hey!” Blossompaw’s petulant mew sounded through the trees and the tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat bounded out from the undergrowth. “I thought you were going to wait for me! Now everyone will think you caught the rabbit without me.”

“We waited for ages,” Bumblepaw objected. “We thought you’d gone back to camp without us.”

Blossompaw sat down. “Why would I do that?”

“So you can moon over Toadstep some more?” Briarpaw teased.

“I do not moon over Toadstep!” Blossompaw snapped. “Why are you being mean?”

“Why are you being grumpy?” Bumblepaw didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s take this rabbit to the camp. Mousewhisker is expecting me back for training.” He began dragging the rabbit through the trees. Briarpaw hurried after him, her paws skidding on the leaves as she caught hold of the fresh-kill.

Blossompaw stomped after them, complaining, “You’re leaving me behind again!”

Lionblaze stirred the leaves with one paw. “Did we fight that much?”

Jayfeather felt a prick of grief, remembering the games they’d played with Hollyleaf as kits and then as ’paws. “I guess.” The breeze tugged his fur.

He could sense words on the tip of Lionblaze’s tongue, hesitancy on his breath. At last the golden warrior spoke. “Ivypaw stepped on a broken stick earlier.”

Jayfeather nodded. “I put ointment on her wound.” He suddenly knew what was coming next. Ivypaw hadn’t told him that her injury had come from a stick; he might have guessed Lionblaze’s news earlier if she had.

“It was your stick, wasn’t it?”

Jayfeather could feel Lionblaze’s gaze prick his pelt, sharp with worry.

“Did you break it?” Lionblaze asked softly.

“Yes.” Guilt surged in Jayfeather’s belly. He’d had so many questions about the prophecy—he still did—but Rock would not answer him. And when the ancient cat had ignored his pleas, frustration had driven Jayfeather to fury and he’d broken the stick. With a shiver, he remembered the crack of the wood when it splintered. The scratches were destroyed forever, all connection with the cats from the past gone. The memory nearly choked him.

“Why?” Lionblaze sounded confused.

Jayfeather’s pelt seemed to crawl with invisible lice. He had destroyed something sacred, something he didn’t fully understand. Why? He wished with all his heart he hadn’t broken the stick. “I-I…” How could he explain?

“I never understood why the stick was so important to you.” Lionblaze’s voice was distant; he was staring out over the lake once more. “But I know you used to go to it when you were worried or troubled.” His fur brushed Jayfeather’s as he leaned closer. “Was it a sign from StarClan?”

If only it were that simple. “There was a time before StarClan,” Jayfeather ventured.

Lionblaze’s fur sparked with surprise. “Before?”

“The stick came from then.” Would Lionblaze understand? “The cats who lived here used to become sharpclaws by finding their way through the tunnels…”