Sunrise

The kits calmed down a little as Jayfeather set down the tansy and left. On his way back to his den, he passed Firestar with Sandstorm, Graystripe, and Brackenfur.

“We can’t assume the problems are over,” Sandstorm was meowing. “If I were you, Firestar, I’d warn all cats to stay away from the WindClan border, except for patrols.”

“Right,” Graystripe agreed. “We don’t want to find another warrior dead in the stream.”

Jayfeather stifled a sigh. What’s the point of patrols and guards? The killer is here.

A night breeze had sprung up when Jayfeather padded over to the fresh-kill pile where Lionblaze and Hollyleaf were eating with the rest of the Sol patrol. Earlier in the day, he hadn’t known what to say to them, and it was no better now.

“Hi,” he meowed. “Ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Hollyleaf replied.

“It’s weird, going without you.” Lionblaze brushed his muzzle against Jayfeather’s shoulder. “This will be the first time we’ve ever been separated.”

Jayfeather nodded. He had even managed the long journey to visit the Tribe in the mountains, but this time he had to stay behind. In spite of his earlier impatience with his littermates, it felt wrong to be split from them, especially when he knew that the tendrils of the secret that bound them together could not be broken by any distance.

“Well…I guess it’s good-bye,” he muttered.

“I guess,” Lionblaze meowed.

Jayfeather touched his nose to his brother’s, and then to Hollyleaf’s.

“Bye, Jayfeather,” she murmured.

There ought to be more to say, Jayfeather knew, but tension quivered among the three of them like the strands of a spider’s web. In the end, he ducked his head, mumbled, “May StarClan light your path,” and headed back to the medicine cats’ den.

Jayfeather opened his eyes to see bleak rocks stretching to either side of him and a plunging precipice just in front of his paws. Startled, he leaped back. Wind swept across the mountaintop, ruffling his fur. As he recovered from the first shock of finding himself here, he recognized the place where he had met Midnight the badger.

Looking up, Jayfeather saw the stars whirling around the sky, so fast that they became blurred trails of light. He tried to dig his claws into the thin soil where he stood, terrified of falling upward into the gaping emptiness.

Then he heard the scrape of claws on rock. Wrenching his gaze from the swirling stars, he whipped around to see the bulky body and white-striped head of Midnight.

“What do you want?” he demanded, trying not to sound as scared as he felt.

“Sol not kill Ashfur,” Midnight rumbled. “This you know. These cats chasing wild geese.” She lumbered closer to Jayfeather, starlight glittering in her small black eyes. “Truth must come out.”

“Why?” This time Jayfeather couldn’t stop his voice from quivering.

Midnight’s words fell like stones into a deep pool. “Anything else will destroy your Clan forever.”

“But—” Jayfeather began to protest, but the wind rose, whipping away Midnight’s words and his own, and the badger’s looming form, until he felt that he and Midnight and the stars themselves were being swept into a vast whirlpool.

He seemed to hit the ground with a jolt, and opened his eyes in the darkness of his own den. The air bore the scent of frost, and Jayfeather guessed that dawn was near.

Leafpool was shifting around in the bracken of her nest close by. “It’s time for the patrol to leave,” she meowed. “Do you want to come say good-bye?”

Jayfeather had said his farewells the night before, but he scrambled out of his nest and followed his mentor into the clearing. Most of the Sol patrol were bunched together near the opening of the thorn tunnel along with Firestar, Graystripe, and Squirrelflight.

A fox-length or so away, Jayfeather located Birchfall and Whitewing; their mingled scents told him they were pressed close together.

“You take care of yourself and get plenty of rest,” Birchfall told his mate. “Eat lots of fresh-kill, and tell Leafpool if you feel anything….”

“Shh,” Whitewing murmured lovingly. “I’ll be fine. I’m not the only cat who ever gave birth!”

Jayfeather padded past them and found himself close to Squirrelflight, who was saying good-bye to Brambleclaw. Unlike Whitewing, she was keeping her emotions firmly under control; Jayfeather couldn’t tell what she was feeling.

“Be careful at the sun-drown-place,” she warned the ThunderClan deputy. “Don’t get too close to the edge of the cliffs. They might give way again.”

“I know. I don’t want to go for another swim.” Brambleclaw was trying to sound cheerful, but Jayfeather could tell that it was forced.

“Brambleclaw, just remind me about hunting patrols,” Graystripe broke in. “The best places are by the old Twoleg nest and near the dead tree, right?”

“Right,” Brambleclaw replied. “Make sure the patrols remember that if they’re hunting by the dead tree they’ve got to be careful not to cross the ShadowClan border.”