The Forgotten Warrior

Anxiety surged up inside Ivypool like a flooding stream as she followed Sorreltail and the others back to camp. More trouble tonight, she thought wretchedly. Training in the Dark Forest is bad enough, but now we have a score to settle with Breezepelt as well. Will there ever be an end to it?

Chapter 3

Dovewing clawed at the moss, pulling great pawfuls away from the roots of the oak tree.

“It’s nice and dry,” Whitewing commented. “That should please Mousefur and Purdy.” She paused, then added hesitantly, “Dovewing, I’m worried about these bad dreams you’re having. I—”

“I’ll be fine, honestly,” Dovewing interrupted, wishing she hadn’t said anything about the dreams in which she saw Swoop, over and over again, carried away by the eagle, the Tribe cat’s heartrending cries shattering the air. Avoiding her mother’s gaze, Dovewing bent her head over the growing pile of moss, checking it for thorns. “The dreams will go away eventually.”

Whitewing shook her head. “It’s been a whole moon since you got back, and you’re still having them.” She pulled off another clump of moss, raking her claws down the oak root. “I blame myself for letting you go to the mountains. You’re too young, and you haven’t got enough warrior experience to travel so far.”

“You can’t say that!” Dovewing protested, looking up from the moss. “You didn’t let me go. Firestar chose me.”

“Yes, and I would expect a Clan leader to have more sense,” Whitewing meowed.

I wish I could tell you why he made that decision, but I can’t, Dove-wing thought. “Don’t forget I led the expedition to find the beavers,” she reminded her mother. “I got lots of experience there.”

“I know.” Whitewing still looked anxious. “StarClan shouldn’t have sent the dream about the beavers to an apprentice. It was far too much responsibility.”

Except they didn’t send a dream… Dovewing bent even more busily over the moss to hide her expression. Whitewing would never sleep again if she knew how much responsibility I was born with, thanks to the prophecy.

“I’ll get over it, I really will,” she reassured her mother. “And it’s not all bad. I’m lucky to have traveled such a long way beyond the Clan. There’s so much out there to see!”

Whitewing sniffed. “There’s plenty to see here beside the lake, too.”

“Yes, yes, I know there is… oh, there’s a huge thorn!” Dovewing exclaimed, snagging it in one claw and tossing it aside. “It’s a good thing that didn’t end up in Mousefur’s pelt.”

For a few heartbeats Dovewing and Whitewing worked side by side, clawing more moss off the oak roots. Laying a particularly thick clump on the pile, Whitewing paused. “I was talking to Bumblestripe earlier,” she remarked. “He’s a nice young warrior—so polite! He likes you a lot, you know.”

Dovewing began to feel hot and uncomfortable in her pelt. “I know,” she muttered, squirming with embarrassment.

“You’ll need to find a mate one day, to keep the Clan going,” Whitewing pointed out.

“There’s plenty of time,” Dovewing meowed. Will the prophecy allow me to have a mate? How can I have kits if I might be called on to save the Clan at any moment? An image of Tigerheart flashed into her mind, his eyes sparkling as if he were going to spring at her and roll her over in a play fight. Tigerheart would understand…

Dovewing thrust the thought away. “This is plenty of moss,” she announced. “Let’s get it back to camp.”

Whitewing rolled the moss into two balls and the she-cats picked them up to carry back to the stone hollow. Now that Whitewing wasn’t fussing anymore, Dovewing enjoyed being with her; it wasn’t often that she and her mother could work together without any other cats. In spite of her disturbed night, she began to feel better. But her ears were full of weird buzzing noises, and she still couldn’t reach out with her senses.

What if my powers have gone forever? she wondered, a cold trickle of fear passing through her from ears to tail-tip. No, she told herself. I’m not going to think about that.

As she passed a thick bank of ferns not far from the entrance to the camp, there was a sudden flash of gray-and-white fur, and Mousewhisker leaped out of the undergrowth in front of her. Dovewing let out a startled squeak and jumped back, dropping the ball of moss.

“Got you!” Mousewhisker exclaimed with a mrrow of laughter. “I’ve never seen you jump like that. Have you got moss in your ears, Dovewing? Usually no cat manages to sneak up on you.”