Fading Echoes

A blackbird was rooting along the needle-strewn floor. There was no cover to hide their approach, but if they worked as a team, they might be able to trap it between them.

“Perfect,” Blossompaw murmured. “You head that way; I’ll come at it from the other side.” She nodded Ivypaw away, adding, “Keep low, and don’t drag your paws.”

“I’m not a kit!” Ivypaw hissed back.

Before Blossompaw could give her any more obvious instructions, she crept fast between the trees, keeping down but not letting her belly or tail brush the floor. She fixed her eyes on the blackbird, not allowing her gaze to stray even when trees passed between her and their quarry. It had hold of a worm and was struggling to drag it out of the ground.

Blossompaw’s pelt flashed at the edge of Ivypaw’s vision. She ignored it, padding closer and closer until she was only a few tail-lengths from the bird. Then she halted. This is Blossompaw’s assessment, she reminded herself, fighting the urge to pounce. She knew she could get it, with Hawkfrost’s lesson still fresh in her mind.

Where was Blossompaw? The blackbird was winning the struggle with the worm. It would fly away any moment. Ivypaw narrowed her eyes. Perhaps she should catch it, just to make sure. She began to waggle her haunches, ready to leap.

A flash of tortoiseshell fur made her freeze as Blossompaw flew at the bird, paws outstretched, hind legs hitting the ground a moment too early. She managed to clasp the blackbird in her forepaws but there was no grace in the catch. The blackbird struggled, frantic wings battering the earth and sending pine needles flying while Blossompaw regained her balance enough to make the killing bite.

Hawkfrost would have sneered at such a clumsy catch. For a moment the scent of night washed over Ivypaw’s tongue, bringing a vivid image of the warrior tom to her mind and the dark forest musk that clung to his thick pelt.

Was he a StarClan cat? Had he come especially to teach her?

Dovepaw has never been visited by StarClan! Ivypaw felt a prick of satisfaction. She would have told me.

Rain began to patter on the canopy high overhead as Dustpelt and Thornclaw caught up. Dustpelt was carrying Ivypaw’s squirrel. He dropped it and nodded toward the blackbird. “Nicely caught.”

Thornclaw shrugged. “Whatever Firestar says, I don’t see the point of hunting in pairs. Blossompaw would have caught it if Ivypaw were somewhere else catching her own prey.” He snorted. “Seems like a waste of warriors.” He glanced up as the rain grew heavier and began to drip through the branches. It splashed on his nose, making him sneeze.

“Come on,” he meowed, shaking his head. “I think we’ve seen enough. Let’s get back to camp before the downpour starts.”

Blossompaw lashed her tail. “But I’ve only caught one bird!”

The rain began to pound through the trees until the pine needles bounced on the forest floor.

“We’ve seen enough,” Thornclaw repeated. He flicked his tail toward the squirrel. “You may as well carry your own catch,” he told Ivypaw.

Pleased at the thought of walking into camp carrying such a fat piece of prey, Ivypaw grasped the squirrel in her jaws and began to head through the trees.

By the time they reached the thorn barrier, the forest was drenched. Ivypaw could hardly see her Clanmates through the fog of rain. Her paws squelched on the muddy forest floor, each sucking pawstep filling with water behind her. After so many moons of drought, the elders couldn’t complain now. There was enough water to fill the lake even if every stream dried up.

Blossompaw trotted past Ivypaw, quickening her pace to enter camp first, and tripped on the wing of the blackbird. “Fox dung!” She cursed through her mouthful of feathers. “One wretched bird while you have to catch a squirrel!” She glared at Ivypaw. “If I fail this assessment, it’s all your fault.”

She ducked into the tunnel, leaving Ivypaw startled. At the start of the morning Blossompaw had been complaining that she’d be no help. Now she was upset because Ivypaw had been too much help.

Ivypaw dragged the squirrel through the thorn tunnel. Whitewing and Millie hurried to greet them.

“You’re the first back,” Millie meowed.

Whitewing’s eyes glowed with pride as she gazed at the squirrel hanging in her daughter’s jaws. “Well done!”

Millie glanced at Blossompaw’s blackbird. “You two obviously work well together.”

Yeah, right!

Ivypaw lifted her chin to keep the squirrel out of the mud as she carried it to the fresh-kill pile.

Dovepaw ducked out from the apprentices’ den, her shoulders hunched against the battering rain. “Great catch!” she called. “It’s nearly as big as you!”