Lost Stars

“I know.” Now Dewspring sounded more sympathetic. “We’ll hunt later. For now, tell me what your first duty will be when you’re made a warrior.”

“Keep vigil for—” Rootpaw began, only to be distracted as he saw Frecklewish and Fidgetflake emerge from Leafstar’s den in the gap at the base of the Tallrock, followed by the Clan leader herself and her deputy, Hawkwing. They padded across the camp toward the medicine cats’ den, their heads together as they talked, and halted a few tail-lengths away from the holly bush where Rootpaw and his mentor were crouching.

“. . . but it still worries us both that we can’t get in touch with StarClan” were the first words Rootpaw heard, from a clearly anxious Fidgetflake.

Rootpaw’s jaws gaped in astonishment. He managed a shocked “Wha—” before Dewspring silenced him with a tail slapped over his mouth.

Frecklewish nodded. “Nothing like this ever happened back in the gorge. Even when StarClan wasn’t sending us any visions or signs, we always felt that they were with us. It’s different here,” she finished sadly.

“I keep wondering if leaving the gorge and coming here has weakened our connection to our ancestors,” Fidgetflake continued. “Did we make the wrong choice?”

Leafstar sighed heavily. “Hawkwing and I, and the whole Clan, made the choices we thought were necessary. I don’t believe our warrior ancestors will abandon us forever.”

“But what happens when a cat dies?” Fidgetflake asked, alarm in his voice and his wide eyes. “They’re supposed to go to StarClan. And what if a leader were to die right now, when the connection to StarClan seems lost? Would they be able to come back? Would a new leader get their nine lives?”

“I don’t think a leader is likely to die,” Hawkwing pointed out. “None of them are sick, and we’re not at war with any Clan.”

“That’s true. Fidgetflake, you shouldn’t worry so much,” Leafstar meowed briskly. “The only danger we have to face right now is this leaf-bare.”

“But that’s bad enough,” Frecklewish murmured, so softly that Rootpaw could only just make out her words.

“So, you’re going to show me your herb stores,” Leafstar went on, beginning to move away again. “If you think there’s any hope of finding more, we’ll send out a patrol. Which cats would be best at searching, do you think?”

The group moved on, and if Frecklewish replied, Rootpaw couldn’t hear her. He exchanged a dismayed glance with Dewspring. “StarClan is lost?” he exclaimed, hardly able to believe what he had just heard. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Not get our tails in a twist,” Dewspring responded. “Whatever the problem is, we can rely on Leafstar, Hawkwing, and the medicine cats to guide us through it.”

Even though he spoke so confidently, he had a worried and distracted air, and Rootpaw could guess that he didn’t believe his own words. He wants to reassure me, but he’s just as anxious as I am.

“But we—” Rootpaw began.

“Enough of lazing around under this bush,” Dewspring interrupted with forced cheerfulness. “It’s time to go hunting and bring back something for the fresh-kill pile.” He rose and led the way into the open.

Even though Rootpaw sprang eagerly to his paws and followed his mentor, he knew it would be a long time before he could forget the conversation he had just heard.

Fresh snow had fallen overnight, still almost unmarked except for the paw prints of the patrols. Here and there Rootpaw spotted the thin scratches of a bird’s claws, but no tracks of mice, rabbits, or squirrels. He couldn’t pick up the least trace of any prey-scent.

“I guess they’re all huddled in their holes,” he meowed, discouraged.

“We just have to keep trying,” his mentor responded. “Let’s go down to the lake.”

As they headed in that direction, Dewspring suddenly darted aside into a patch of undergrowth where overhanging fronds of bracken had protected the ground from the worst of the snow. He emerged a moment later with a shrew dangling from his jaws.

“Great catch!” Rootpaw exclaimed.

“No, it’s a skinny thing,” Dewspring mewed, setting it down at the edge of the patch and scratching earth over it, ready to collect it later. “But it’s better than nothing. Thank you, StarClan, for this prey,” he added with a sigh.

Rootpaw wondered whether StarClan could hear him. Even if they could, did they care whether a hunter thanked them? But he knew better than to voice his doubts. He followed Dewspring as his mentor continued, but his hopes of catching something himself were rapidly fading.

The trees were thinning out as they approached the lake, the wider stretches of open ground leaving even less space for prey to hide. Rootpaw’s legs were getting so tired, each paw step was an effort.

How much longer is Dewspring going to keep us out here, looking for prey that isn’t there?