Fading Echoes

“I bet you haven’t seen this one.” He crouched down and began to draw himself forward, chin stretched out, whiskers drawn back so that he weaved through the grass like a snake. Suddenly his muzzle darted forward, and he grasped a flower stem in his jaws so quickly that the apprentice gasped.

“That was so fast!”

“Good for catching fish.”

“Fish?”

“Mice too,” the tom added. “Any prey that’s quick.”

“Can I try?”

“Of course.”

As she flattened herself to the ground, the tom sat up and wrapped his bushy tail over his paws.

“What’s your sister like?” he asked.

The apprentice was focusing on a long blade of grass a tail-length ahead. “She’s clever,” she mewed, pulling herself slowly forward. “And funny.” She crept closer to the grass. “And the bravest cat I know.” With a lunge, she snapped at the grass stem, grabbing it in her jaws before spitting it out, coughing. “Yuck! Bitter!”

The tom purred. “I suppose you mean the grass, not your sister.”

“Of course!”

A faint yowl drifted across the meadow. A cat was calling.

The she-cat turned her head. “I’ve got to go now.” She started to pad toward the voice, the grass stroking her back.

The tom called after her, “Don’t you want to know my name?”

The apprentice turned, blinking.

“I’m Hawkfrost.”

“Good-bye, Hawkfrost.” The name felt strange on her tongue.

“Aren’t you going to tell me yours?”

“Oh, yes. It’s Ivypaw.”

Ivypaw shook herself awake, surprised to feel chilly air around her muzzle after the warmth of her dream. Cinderheart was peering through the den entrance. “Ivypaw!” she hissed.

Dovepaw was still asleep, tired after the Gathering, and Cinderheart was clearly trying not to wake her. But Blossompaw’s, Briarpaw’s, and Bumblepaw’s nests were all empty.

Dazed from her dream, Ivypaw hauled herself to her paws. “Coming!” She picked her way on half-numb legs past Dovepaw’s nest and padded out into the damp dawn air. Briarpaw and her littermates were pacing the clearing, Blossompaw mumbling under her breath as though running through answers while Bumblepaw kept stopping to crouch and pounce.

Ivypaw remembered through the haze of her dream that today was their final assessment. Mist hung in the camp, shrouding the dens so they looked eerie and far away. The dawn sky was obscured by thick, dark clouds.

Ivypaw shivered. “What did you want?” she asked Cinderheart.

Her mentor was already halfway across the clearing, heading to where Hazeltail, Mousewhisker, and Thornclaw sat like stones, eyeing their apprentices with anxious interest.

Ivypaw glanced up, past the rocky walls of the hollow and the trees crowding the rim. The clouds were darker than ever. There would be rain before long. Ivypaw shuddered. Why couldn’t she have lingered longer in her dream meadow with Hawkfrost?

“The assessment will be carried out in pairs this time,” Cinderheart told Ivypaw. “We need you to pair up with Blossompaw.”

“No way!” Blossompaw’s horrified mew took Ivypaw by surprise. “She’s not properly trained! Can’t I have Dovepaw? At least she can hunt.”

Ivypaw glared at the tortoiseshell-and-white cat. “I know how to hunt!” Hawkfrost had just taught her two new moves!

“You’ve hardly caught more than a mouse!” Blossompaw complained. “Dovepaw’s brilliant! She can hear prey anywhere!”

Self-conscious and disappointed, Ivypaw felt her shoulders begin to sink.

You’re just as good as your sister.

The words rang in her head. Another voice, not here, though she couldn’t place it. She straightened up and lifted her chin. “I’ll do my best,” she promised. “Besides, you’re the one being assessed, not me.”

“Well said, Ivypaw.” Hazeltail padded through the mist and stood beside her apprentice. “Ivypaw is doing you a favor,” she scolded Blossompaw. “You should be doing the work, not her.”

The warriors’ den rustled as Dustpelt and Spiderleg padded out. “Are we ready to go?” Spiderleg asked, yawning.

Cinderheart nodded. “You’ll be assessing Bumblepaw with Hazeltail,” she informed him. “I’ll help Mousewhisker with Briarpaw. Dustpelt, you and Thornclaw can assess Blossompaw.”

Hazeltail looked surprised. “So we’re not assessing our own apprentices?”

“Firestar wants us to try a different way,” Cinderheart reminded the small gray-and-white she-cat.

“Firestar has a new training technique every moon these days,” Thornclaw muttered, padding toward the entrance. “This is pointless,” he growled. “By the time we’ve figured out this way of training, Firestar will have come up with something else.” He disappeared through the tunnel, the mist closing after him.

“Come on,” Cinderheart urged.

Ivypaw hurried after Blossompaw and her littermates as they pushed their way out of the camp.

“You two will hunt by the lake,” Cinderheart announced. She signaled to Briarpaw and Bumblepaw with her tail and the apprentices darted away, heading for the shore. Cinderheart looked at Ivypaw. “Be careful,” she warned. “Don’t forget you’re just helping. You’ve got nothing to prove.”