Fading Echoes

“Brokenstar.” Hawkfrost greeted the matted tabby with bared teeth. “Are we supposed to take advice from the warrior who failed to silence Jayfeather?”

Brokenstar twitched the tip of his tail. “I did not expect StarClan to fight so hard to save him.”

“Never underestimate your enemy.” Hawkfrost stretched his forepaw, wincing.

Breezepelt licked the deep scratches along his flank, his tongue reddening with his own blood.

“We must be ready,” Tigerstar growled. “It’s not enough to be able to beat one enemy at a time. We must train until we can take on a whole patrol single-pawed.”

Breezepelt looked up from his wound, his eyes flashing. “I can already beat Harespring and Leaftail in training.”

Tigerstar’s eyes darkened. “Training is one thing. Warriors fight harder when they’re defending their lives.”

Breezepelt clawed the ground. “I can fight harder.”

Tigerstar nodded. “You have more reason than most.”

A growl rose in Breezepelt’s throat.

“You have been wronged,” Tigerstar meowed softly.

Breezepelt’s young face looked kitlike in the gloom. “You’re the only ones who seem to realize that.”

“I have told you that you must seek vengeance,” Tigerstar reminded him. “With our help, you can take revenge on every cat who has betrayed you.”

Breezepelt’s gaze grew hungry as the dark warrior went on.

“And on every cat who stood by and did nothing while others claimed what was yours as their own.”

“Starting with Crowfeather.” Breezepelt snarled his father’s name.

Brokenstar swished his crooked tail through the air. “What did your father do to defend you?” His words were laced with bitterness, as though soured by his own memories.

Darkstripe slunk forward. “He never valued you.”

Tigerstar shooed the striped warrior back with a flick of his tail. “He tried to crush you, make you weak.”

“He didn’t succeed,” Breezepelt spat.

“But he tried. Perhaps he valued his ThunderClan kits more. Those three kits should never have been born.” Tigerstar padded toward the young warrior, his eyes gleaming, holding Breezepelt’s gaze like a snake mesmerizing its prey. “You have been suckled on lies and the weakness of others. You have suffered while others have thrived. But you are strong. You will put things right. Your father betrayed his Clan and betrayed you. Leafpool betrayed StarClan by taking a mate.”

Breezepelt’s tail was lashing. “I will make them all pay for what they have done.” No heat fired his gaze, only cold hatred. “I will have vengeance on each and every one of them.”

Brokenstar pushed forward. “You are a noble warrior, Breezepelt. You cannot live a life spawned on lies. Loyalty to the warrior code runs too strong in your blood.”

“Not like those weaklings,” Breezepelt agreed.

Hawkfrost was on his paws. “More practice?” he suggested.

Tigerstar shook his head. “There is something else you must do.” He swung his broad head around to face the warrior.

Hawkfrost narrowed his eyes to icy slits. “What?”

“There’s another apprentice,” Tigerstar told him. “She has great power. She must join us to make the battle even.”

“You want me to visit her?” Menace edged Hawkfrost’s mew.

Tigerstar nodded. “Walk in her dreams. Teach her that our battle is her destiny.” He flicked the tip of his long, dark tail. “Go.”

As the broad-shouldered warrior turned away and padded into the mist, Tigerstar growled after him, “You should have no trouble. She is ready.”

Chapter 1

Dovepaw trembled in her sleep.

“Dovepaw! Dovepaw!” Voices wailed around her as she struggled in the current, dragging at her fur, swirling her through darkness. “Dovepaw!” The cries were jagged with fear. Trees and branches tumbled past her, sweeping away downstream. Darkness yawned below, stretching so far beneath her that horror caught in her throat.

“Dovepaw!” Rippletail’s desperate, lonely whimper rang in her ears.

With a start, she blinked open her eyes.

Her sister, Ivypaw, stirred beside her. “Were you dreaming?” The silver-and-white tabby raised her head and gazed anxiously at Dovepaw. “You were twitching like a mouse.”

“Bad dream.” Dovepaw fought to keep her mew steady. Her heart was pounding and Rippletail’s cry echoed in her mind. She stretched forward and licked Ivypaw’s head. “It’s gone now,” she lied.

As Ivypaw’s sleepy eyes began to close, Dovepaw breathed in the soft scent of her sister. I’m home, she reminded herself.

Everything’s okay. Yet her heart still pounded. She stretched in her nest, a shiver running to the tip of her tail, and clambered to her paws. Padding carefully between the nests, she headed out of the den.