Lost Stars

They all heaved forward, grunting, and managed to push the rock up onto the first of two logs. Alderheart, it seemed, had found the rock lying against the wall of the Moonpool cave, and Crowfeather, Hawkwing, and Reedwhisker had worked together to organize the warriors to move it closer to the Moonpool itself. It was the hope of the three deputies, who’d taken charge of the scene, that once the rock was placed across three logs, the warriors could push it to the edge of the Moonpool, then push it in. They all hoped that the rock was heavy enough—and, when turned on its end, sharp enough—to break through the final layer of ice.

Rootpaw’s shoulders ached. Even with countless warriors’ help, the rock was heavy. Which was exactly why they all hoped it would work.

As Crowfeather and the other deputies ordered the warriors into place for the next push, Rootpaw rose up on his hind legs and stared into the Moonpool. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting—maybe something deep, clear, shrouded with fog and stars. Something clearly mystical, touched by StarClan. But now, at least, the Moonpool simply looked like a block of grayish-white ice sunk into a dark rocky bank. The medicine cats had made a break in the ice and dug out an uneven chunk, now pushed off to the side. It had left a wide, triangular gash, which only revealed . . . more ice.

How far down does the ice go? Rootpaw wondered. From their whispers and mumblings, he knew many of the other warriors were wondering the same thing. He couldn’t see any sign of water beneath. It felt different from the ice on the lake where he’d fallen in. There he’d been able to feel the ice give, to hear the sloshing of life below.

In contrast, the Moonpool felt inert . . . almost dead, Rootpaw thought with despair. Surely that can’t be good.

He could only hope they’d succeed in bringing it back to life.

“Warriors, places!” Hawkwing yelled. “We’re almost there! One, two . . .”

Rootpaw scrambled back into place on the rock. And slowly, together, the warriors pushed the rock onto the logs. Working shoulder to shoulder, they were able to keep the rock on the logs, slide it slowly across, and push it to the edge of the Moonpool.

“Now,” Hawkwing yelled, “we all rest for a moment . . . and, on the count of three, we push it over the edge!”

Rootpaw panted, the cold air burning his lungs. He glanced around and caught the eye of Bristlefrost, who was on the outer edge of the group. She nodded at him and purred, and Rootpaw nodded back, sharing her sense of satisfaction.

Even if it doesn’t work, he thought, at least we’re doing something. Maybe that will impress StarClan?

But then he saw Jayfeather on the other side of the Moonpool, his eyes cast down with a look of utter despair, like he’d lost his only friend.

That is, if they’re not horribly offended that we touched the Moonpool . . .

Rootpaw felt heavy inside. Had things always been this horribly complicated?

“All right, everyone,” Reedwhisker yelled. “Take your places! . . . One . . . two . . .”

Rootpaw pressed his forepaws against the rock, pushing with all his might. All the warriors around him did the same, letting out a massive groan as the rock inched forward.

“Break!” Hawkwing yelled, and they all went limp, leaving the sharp edge of the rock dangling a few inches over the pool. Rootpaw tried to stretch his muscles. He knew they would all be sore in the morning.

Reedwhisker spoke up again after a few seconds. “Okay, places . . . One . . . two . . .”

They pushed the rock forward some more. Rootpaw’s forelegs ached, and he wondered if they would ever succeed. Then, so suddenly he let out a gasp of surprise, Rootpaw felt no resistance. The rock slid over the side of the pool, its sharp end nosing forward into the gash the medicine cats had dug out. There was silence for a few seconds, then a huge crash as the tip of the rock made contact with the ice.

“Hooray!” Breezepelt, from WindClan, yelled.

“Don’t be mouse-brained,” Bristlefrost snapped at him. “We don’t know whether it broke through. . . .”

At her words, all the warriors stepped forward to the edge of the pool to look down. But before he moved, Rootpaw glimpsed Jayfeather’s face.

It hadn’t changed.

Breezepelt scrambled to the edge and looked down. “It made a big dent. But there’s still more ice!”

Rootpaw felt his heart sink.

“It goes at least five tail-lengths down,” Bristlefrost added, staring down into the pool. “So much ice . . .”

Crowfeather was looking, too. “I suppose we can try again . . . ,” he meowed. But he sounded tired. As tired as Rootpaw felt.

Hawkwing looked even less optimistic. “We can try countless times,” he agreed, “but we don’t know where the water begins . . . or whether it’s frozen solid.”

Frozen solid. A shiver went through Rootpaw’s body at those words.