Thunder And Shadow

Tigerheart padded to the head of the clearing, Rowanstar at his side. “We’ve been discussing the hunting patrols,” he called, his eyes flitting around the Clan. “Our Clanmates are recovering and have good appetites, but som e are not y et fit to hunt. This means that the rest of us must hunt harder than ever. I want the fresh-kill pile full by this evening.”

Scorchfur and Spikefur exchanged glances.

Tigerheart went on. “Spikefur, take Lionpaw, Mistcloud, Whorlpaw, and Rippletail to the ditches and hunt there. Scorchfur, take Birchpaw, Grassheart, Flowerpaw, and Sparrowtail to the lake to hunt. Dawnpelt, take Violetpaw, Tawny pelt, and Strikestone to the alder grove near the border. There will be good hunting there now that it’s newleaf, but watch out for the rogues.”

Dawnpelt straightened, swallowing the last of her lizard, and nodded to the deputy.

Spikefur stared at Tigerheart. “Where will you and Rowanstar be hunting?”

“Rowanstar needs to rest,” Tigerheart told him. “He’s still recovering from his illness.”

“He looks fine to m e,” Spikefur looked the leader up and down scornfully.

Rowanstar’s eyes flashed. “I will hunt,” he mewed hoarsely, “if the Clan needs it.”

Scorchfur nodded toward the den where the rem aining sick cats lay. “The Clan needs it,” he growled.

Worry darkened Tigerheart’s gaze. “You shouldn’t risk y our health,” he mewed to Rowanstar.

Rowanstar m et his deputy’s gaze. “I must show m y Clan I am still strong.”

Spikefur snorted. “It’s a bit late for that.” Flicking his tail sharply, he headed out of camp, his patrol hurry ing after him.

Violetpaw watched him go, her pelt rippling with unease. Even ShadowClan’s warriors were showing no respect for their leader now. She glanced toward Dawnpelt, hoping for reassurance, but her m entor was already following the other patrols out of camp. I came back here because I wanted to live by the warrior code. But right now she felt as though ShadowClan had forgotten the one thing that m ade them warriors: they seem ed to have forgotten loy alty.

She followed Dawnpelt. Perhaps tonight’s Gathering will remind them what it is to be a true Clan.

Violetpaw draped the last piece of dried m oss inside the freshly woven bracken nest and sat back on her haunches to adm ire her work. Outside, the full moon was rising, so bright that it lit the camp and shafts of moonlight speared the elders’ den.

Ratscar nodded approvingly at the new nest. “Oakfur will be pleased with it.”

“Puddleshine say s he can return to the elders’ den tom orrow,” Violetpaw told him. “I wanted him to be com fortable.” She glanced at Ratscar’s shabby nest. “I can make you a fresh nest tom orrow if you like.”

A purr rasped in Ratscar’s throat. “That would be great.” His gaze flitted to the third nest in the den, now stale and cold. “It’s going to be quiet in here without Kinkfur,” he m urm ured sadly.

“Oakfur isn’t much of a talker.”

“ShadowClan!” Rowanstar’s call sounded outside the den.

Blinking at Ratscar, Violetpaw hurried out. Let Rowanstar choose me to go to the Gathering.

She wondered if she’d see Twigpaw, then pushed the thought away. Why would I want to see her?

Anger flashed beneath her pelt. She left me.

Tawny pelt and Tigerheart were already standing expectantly in front of Rowanstar. At the edge of the clearing, Strikestone plucked at the grass eagerly, the rem ains of the fresh-kill he’d been eating beside him. Dawnpelt crossed the camp, heading toward Rowanstar, her tail high.

Violetpaw hurried to j oin her m entor, her paws prickling with excitem ent as Rowanstar began to call the names of the cats who would travel with him to the island. “Tawny pelt, Tigerheart, Violetpaw.” He chose me! Violetpaw purred as she reached Dawnpelt.

“Puddleshine!” The medicine cat was already crossing the clearing as Rowanstar called his name.

“Dawnpelt, Strikestone, Spikefur, Mistcloud, Whorlpaw, Sparrowtail, Flowerpaw.”

Violetpaw glanced over her shoulder, scanning the clearing for the young apprentices. Their first Gathering! Flowerpaw was hurry ing toward Rowanstar, her eyes shining. Whorlpaw followed at her heels.

Violetpaw’s purr faltered as she caught sight of Spikefur. He was hanging back at the edge of the clearing, his shoulders stiff. Mistcloud stood beside him. The warriors’ eyes were dark. Why weren’t they hurry ing to j oin the others?

“Scorchfur, Sparrowtail.” Rowanstar went on, apparently unaware that som e of the cats he had named weren’t m oving from their place.

Scorchfur glowered at the ShadowClan leader. “We’re not coming.” His y owl cut across the moonlit camp like a claw slicing through the darkness.

Tigerheart and Tawny pelt j erked their m uzzles toward the dark gray tom. Dawnpelt turned to face him.