The Forgotten Warrior

“Why don’t I check them out in my den?” he suggested to Brambleclaw, hoping for the chance to get some information out of the two she-cats in private. “Maybe they’re coming down with something…”

Jayfeather’s voice trailed off as he realized that no cat was listening to him. As he was speaking, the swift patter of paws announced the arrival of Whitewing.

“Brambleclaw, don’t get angry with them!” she meowed. “They’re working so hard, now that we don’t have any apprentices.” She paused, then added, “I’ll help them with their duties today.”

“I need you to go on border patrol,” Brambleclaw told her.

“And I need to stay here with my daughters,” Whitewing retorted. “Some other cat can go on border patrol instead of me.”

Brambleclaw gave a disapproving sniff. “Fine,” he muttered, and stalked away.

“Now, tidy yourselves up,” Whitewing went on, rasping her tongue busily over Ivypool’s ears.

“Get off me!” Ivypool protested. “I’m not a kit!”

“You’ll always be my kit,” Whitewing told her, turning to give the same brisk licks to Dovewing, who jumped back and exclaimed, “Stop! I’m a warrior! I can do my own fur!”

“Then prove it. We need to fetch moss for the elders’ bedding,” Whitewing went on as her daughters gave themselves a quick grooming. “And for StarClan’s sake make sure there are no thorns in Purdy’s, or we’ll never hear the end of it. Come on!”

She bustled them toward the camp entrance, but before they reached the thorn tunnel Firestar appeared at the head of the dawn patrol. Jayfeather’s nose was flooded with the scents of his Clanmates. Brambleclaw bounded across the clearing to meet them, with Dustpelt, Cloudtail, and Brightheart hard on his paws. Foxleap raised his head from the fresh-kill pile, a mouse dangling from his jaws, while Berrynose strode importantly up to the patrol, followed more slowly by Leafpool and Squirrelflight.

Molekit and Cherrykit burst out of the nursery, scampered out into the clearing, and hurled themselves at Berrynose’s paws, tripping him.

“Careful!” he murmured, recovering his balance and sweeping his tail around the two excited kits.

Berrynose can be a real pain in the tail, Jayfeather pondered. How come he’s such a good father?

“Is ShadowClan attacking?” Molekit squeaked. “Can we go and fight?”

“I’ve learned a really good move!” Cherrykit exclaimed, pouncing on a leaf and shredding it with her tiny claws.

“Of course you can’t fight!” Poppyfrost panted as she caught up to her kits. “You’re not even apprentices yet!”

Brambleclaw skirted the kits and halted in front of his Clan leader. “Any news?” he asked.

“No, everything’s quiet,” Firestar responded as Jayfeather padded over to listen. “It looks as if all the Clans are at peace with one another.”

“Right,” Thornclaw agreed; the tabby tom had followed Firestar into the camp. “There was no evidence that either WindClan or ShadowClan had been anywhere near the borders, except to renew the scent markers.”

“That’s good news!” Brightheart exclaimed.

Jayfeather wasn’t so sure. He knew that the Clans were keeping to themselves because of the deep divisions within StarClan along Clan boundaries. All the warrior ancestors were warning every cat to stay apart from the other Clans, to trust none but their Clanmates, and prepare for something dreadful that lay in the future like storm clouds on the horizon.

At least ThunderClan has the three cats mentioned in the prophecy, Jayfeather thought. There will be three, kin of your kin, with the power of the stars in their paws. Me, Lionblaze, and Dovewing, all in the same Clan. That must make us safer, right?

He flexed his paws. After his sleepless night they didn’t feel particularly powerful, but at least they would carry him as far as the patch of marigold above the hollow. Then he remembered the other prophecy, from the Tribe of Endless Hunting barely half a moon before. For a moment Jayfeather was plunged back to that dark, windswept mountaintop, surrounded by dead cats who fixed their luminous eyes on him. Once again he seemed to hear the whispers of a long, long line of Stonetellers.

The end of the stars draws near. Three must become four to challenge the darkness that lasts forever.

Rousing from the trance, Jayfeather was once more aware of the sounds and scents of the camp around him.