Shattered Sky

“Juniperclaw and Strikestone—you know, they’re Dawnpelt’s kits—came into our camp a few days ago. They asked to join Rowanstar and their other Clanmates, and they said that Dawnpelt was going to follow them, but she never showed.”

Mothwing gave Alderheart an uneasy glance. “That’s really worrying.”

“Juniperclaw and Strikestone don’t know what to do. They told us that things were really bad among the rogues, and they’re afraid that Darktail has done something to Dawnpelt.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Mothwing mewed.

“It wouldn’t surprise any cat. I suppose Dawnpelt might have changed her mind about leaving, but I doubt it.”

“Then if we can get into the RiverClan camp,” Mothwing suggested, “we might keep a lookout for Dawnpelt, too. If she’s there, then at least we can reassure her kits that Darktail didn’t hurt her.”

And if she’s not there… Alderheart had a cold feeling in his belly when he thought about Dawnpelt. I’m sure something bad has happened to her.

He and Mothwing fell silent again as they passed the horseplace and padded along the stretch of marshland toward the RiverClan border. Glancing up toward the ridge, which Twigpaw had to have crossed on her journey to find the barn where SkyClan was sheltering, Alderheart thought of the other reason he felt tense from his whiskers to his tail-tip.

Dovewing, Tigerheart, and Molewhisker haven’t come back with news of her. A quarter moon is an awfully long time to travel to the barn and back.

Alderheart tried to convince himself that as long as the patrol was still out looking, there was still hope that Twigpaw was okay. But he couldn’t manage to banish his fear that he would never see the small apprentice again.

Passing the end of the tree-bridge that led to the island, Alderheart once more made an effort to thrust unwelcome thoughts away. It was time to concentrate on their mission.

When the two medicine cats reached the border, they discovered that the RiverClan scent markers were fading. Alderheart gagged on a mingled, unfamiliar scent, strong and sour, as if the cats who’d left it had never washed themselves since they were kitted. He knew that the reek must come from the rogues.

Are they nearby now? he wondered, his muscles tensing.

Mothwing wrinkled her nose and let out a huff of disgust. “Yuck! They’ve fouled the whole territory with their stink.”

Now she and Alderheart trod warily, taking advantage of the cover that every bush and tuft of long grass offered them.

“It’s weird,” Alderheart murmured as they paused to rest in a dip in the ground. “Before the battle, a RiverClan patrol would have met us long before now. But we haven’t seen a whisker of the rogues.”

Mothwing flicked her ears in agreement. “I don’t like the silence,” she whispered. “But maybe it means Darktail doesn’t have enough cats to patrol regularly. After all, he’s trying to hold two territories now.”

The two cats continued, growing even more cautious as they began to hear the gurgle of running water not far ahead: the stream at the edge of the RiverClan camp. The reek of rogue scent was in the air, growing stronger with every paw step they took.

To Alderheart’s surprise, he and Mothwing reached the bank of the stream without meeting any of the enemy cats. But as soon as they set paw in the water and began to cross, three heads appeared over the top of the opposite bank, and three cats came bounding down to the water’s edge, where they stood waiting for the medicine cats.

Alderheart couldn’t help his heart thumping harder in his chest when he saw that one of the cats was Needletail. Instinctively, he lifted a paw in greeting and stepped forward to meet her. Then he halted as he saw Needletail regarding him with a cold, unrecognizing stare.

We grew to be such good friends when she came with us on my quest, he thought sadly.

It was the cat in the lead, a long-furred black she-cat, who spoke.

“Greetings.” Though the word was polite, her voice was harsh. “What are you cats doing here?”

While she was speaking, the third cat stepped out from behind Needletail, and Alderheart got a good look at her for the first time. His heart lurched again as he realized that she was Violetpaw. She looked so much like the missing Twigpaw, and as he gazed at her, Alderheart’s compassion swelled up until it almost choked him.

She’s trying to look brave and fierce, he thought, but somehow I can tell that she is just sad and afraid!

Mothwing dipped her head politely in response to the black she-cat’s question. “Greetings, Raven,” she meowed. “Alderheart and I have come to collect my herb stores.”