Sunrise

The three cats headed silently through the forest. Drops from the recent heavy rain spattered their pelts as they brushed through the undergrowth. A chill breeze sprang up, ruffling their fur. Above his head, Jayfeather could hear the first chirps of waking birds.

His mind was spinning. How could this have happened? Their mother was a medicine cat, their father a WindClan warrior. Both of them should have known they could never be together.

How can we be part of the prophecy when we should never have been born?

Padding along by Jayfeather’s side, Lionblaze was sending out steady surges of rage, a burning fury toward those cats who had abandoned the warrior code and piled up a heap of lies for the kits who were born as a result. On his other side, Hollyleaf was dazed, her whirling thoughts still too difficult to read.

At last Jayfeather could hear the gurgling of the border stream and taste the scent of fresh water. “It’s still early,” he remarked, “but we might spot their dawn patrol.”

They drew to a halt on the bank of the stream. Jayfeather’s legs were trembling with weariness; he would have liked to sink down into the long grass at the water’s edge, but he knew he had to confront his father standing on his paws.

Birdsong grew louder around them, and the bitter cold of night gradually eased. At last Jayfeather caught a whiff of WindClan scent; at the same moment Hollyleaf exclaimed, “There they are!”

“Owlwhisker, Gorsetail, and Weaselfur,” Lionblaze meowed. “Wait here. I’m going to talk to them.”

“Wait—” Jayfeather protested as he heard Lionblaze leap across the stream, but his brother was gone, too angry to worry about crossing the border.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Owlwhisker demanded.

All Lionblaze’s suppressed rage came out in his voice. “Fetch Crowfeather. Now.”

“What?” Weaselfur exclaimed indignantly. “Who do you think you are, telling us what to do?”

“Yeah,” Gorsetail added. “Get back into your own territory, or we’ll tear your fur off.”

A low growl came from Lionblaze; Jayfeather pictured him looming over the three WindClan cats, his golden fur fluffed out until he was twice his size. “Just do it!” he ordered.

“Okay,” Owlwhisker mewed, his voice shrill as he tried to conceal his fear. “But you can wait on your own side of the border.”

Jayfeather heard the WindClan warriors bounding away, then a thud as Lionblaze jumped back across the stream and landed beside him. His claws tore up the grass as they waited, as if his fury had to find some kind of outlet.

Jayfeather’s belly churned when he caught the scent of an approaching WindClan cat on the breeze. Just one: Crowfeather had come alone. He could feel Hollyleaf quivering beside him; her tail kept twitching, brushing against his pelt.

At last Crowfeather’s voice came from the other side of the border. “What do you want?”

Words choked in Jayfeather’s throat as the three littermates faced the WindClan warrior across the stream. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Hollyleaf.

But Lionblaze didn’t hesitate. “Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight are not our parents,” he declared. “Leafpool is our mother and you are our father.”

There was a pause. Then, “Don’t be mouse-brained,” Crowfeather snapped. “That’s impossible.”

He sounded so certain that for a heartbeat Jayfeather wondered if they could possibly be mistaken. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into Crowfeather’s mind. A tangle of undergrowth faced him, and he realized that he was standing at the top of the cliff above the stone hollow. Leafpool was clinging to the edge, her face upturned pleadingly as Crowfeather grabbed her by the scruff and hauled her back to safety.

Then he glimpsed them crouched together under a bush, and heard Crowfeather meow, “Come away with me, Leafpool. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” Now the two of them were trekking side by side up a long slope of moorland, then in a hollow, talking to Midnight the badger. “I have to go back,” Leafpool mewed.

Caterwauling ripped through Jayfeather’s vision and he glimpsed the stone hollow full of warring badgers, while his Clanmates attacked them fiercely. Last of all, Leafpool faced Crowfeather in the clearing, among the debris of the battle. “Your heart lies here,” Crowfeather murmured; Jayfeather could hardly believe the warrior could sound so gentle. “Not with me. It was never truly with me.”

The vision had taken no more than a moment, but when Jayfeather let go of the WindClan warrior’s mind, he was sure that Yellowfang’s sign had not deceived him. Just as he was sure that Crowfeather had no idea he had fathered Leafpool’s kits.

“It’s true,” he meowed. “You didn’t know, did you?”