Icepaw darted ahead of him and followed Whitewing and Ashfur through the barrier of thorns that sealed the camp from the forest. Lionpaw padded after, emerging into the clearing in time to see Icepaw drop her vole onto the fresh-kill pile and turn toward her denmates.
Cinderpaw, Honeypaw, and Poppypaw were sunning themselves outside the apprentices’ den. Icepaw trotted over to them.
“Your first catch?” Honeypaw called.
Icepaw lifted her chin. “I got it first try!”
Lionpaw felt a pang of envy. He would never again feel so carefree, never again be thrilled by such a small success.
“Is Foxpaw back yet?” Icepaw asked, clearly eager to show off her catch to her brother.
“Squirrelflight took him on border patrol,” Cinderpaw informed her. “They should be back soon.”
As Lionpaw padded to the fresh-kill pile and dropped his catch, a pelt brushed his. He turned to see his sister.
“Nice catch.” Hollypaw’s mew was flat, as though she had something else on her mind. She was staring at the apprentices outside their den. Cinderpaw and Poppypaw were rolling a ball of moss to each other while Honeypaw leaped to try to catch it.
“Aren’t you going to join in?” Lionpaw mewed.
Hollypaw blinked. “I don’t feel like it.”
That wasn’t like Hollypaw. Especially if Cinderpaw was playing. “Something wrong?” Lionpaw asked.
“I’m just not in the mood.”
Lionpaw searched her green gaze. Was Hollypaw feeling isolated, too? “It feels odd, doesn’t it?” he ventured.
Hollypaw looked at him. “What?”
“Being different.”
“We’re not different on the outside.”
“You know what I mean.” Lionpaw felt a surge of impatience. He needed to talk to someone. All day he’d been clutching their secret like prey struggling to escape. Hollypaw didn’t have to make it so hard. “Knowing something as huge as we do and not being able to tell anyone.”
The fur on Hollypaw’s shoulders bristled with alarm.
“You’re not thinking of telling, are you?”
“No, I—”
Hollypaw cut him off. “No cat must know! Not when we don’t know exactly what the prophecy means.” She lowered her voice, her gaze darting around the clearing. “We need to figure out what we’re meant to do with our powers.”
Lionpaw flexed his claws. “I wasn’t planning on telling!” he snapped. Why did she have to be so bossy? He wasn’t a mouse-brain! And why did she have to try to figure everything out all the time? The prophecy was simple: They were going to be more powerful than any cat. They just had to be ready to use their powers when they were needed. He turned and padded to the halfrock.
With the sun sliding toward the treetops, the Clan was beginning to take food from the fresh-kill pile. Cinderpaw snatched up Lionpaw’s thrush and carried it to the nursery, where Millie, Daisy, and her kits would be growing hungry.
Poppypaw picked up a mouse and placed it outside the elders’ den. “Fresh-kill!” she called.
Longtail emerged from the tangle of honeysuckle, nose twitching, and stood at the entrance, while Mousefur followed him stiffly out. The old she-cat grew more frail with each passing moon. Longtail waited until she had settled down next to the mouse, then sat beside her.
“You don’t have to watch over me like I’m a helpless kit!”
Mousefur snapped at him.
Longtail’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “It’s a shame your tongue’s not as worn-out as the rest of you,” he purred.
Mousefur swiped at him with her tail, catching him behind the ear. “Do you want some of this?” She nosed the mouse toward him.
“You can have this if you want!” Icepaw was trotting from the fresh-kill pile with her little vole swinging from her jaws.
She dropped it at Longtail’s paws. “I caught it myself!”
“Your first catch?” Mousefur’s eyes glowed.
Longtail bent to sniff the small creature. “It smells delicious.”
The brambles at the entrance to the medicine cat den twitched as Jaypaw slid out, a ball of moss held gingerly between his teeth. He padded over to Mousefur and Longtail and placed the moss on the ground. Turning his blind blue eyes on Icepaw, he mewed, “I’ve heard you’ve been busy today.
You should get something to eat.”
“I am pretty hungry,” Icepaw admitted.
“Thanks for the vole!” Longtail called after the apprentice as she padded back to the fresh-kill pile.
Icepaw mewed happily over her shoulder, “Anytime!”
“Do you mind if I check for ticks while you eat?” Jaypaw asked Mousefur.
“If you must,” Mousefur grumbled. “Though I don’t know why you had to wait until I was eating to bring that foul stuff over.” She nodded at the moss. Lionpaw guessed that it was soaked in mouse bile.
“I thought you might be sleeping earlier, and I didn’t want to wake you.” Patiently, Jaypaw began to nuzzle through Mousefur’s pelt. He paused to tear some moss from the ball and pressed it into the fur near the base of her tail.
Lionpaw watched his brother. He seemed completely different from the resentful young cat who had never wanted to be a medicine cat’s apprentice. And yet he’s more powerful than any of his Clanmates. Lionpaw climbed onto the halfrock and lay down, pressing his belly against the sun-warmed stone. Perhaps knowing he’s so powerful makes boring tasks easier to bear. He wondered how many moons it had been since Jaypaw had crept into Firestar’s dream and overheard the stranger predicting the birth of three kits with the power of the stars in their paws. Would the frustration gnawing in his own belly ease with time, once he’d gotten used to the prophecy, as Jaypaw had done?
He glanced up at Highledge as Firestar picked his way down the tumble of rocks, Sandstorm following. The ThunderClan leader had never given any clue that he knew of the prophecy. He had only ever treated Lionpaw, Hollypaw, and Jaypaw as if they were three ordinary apprentices. Lionpaw watched as Firestar picked a mouse from the pile and passed it to Sandstorm before taking a sparrow for himself. What does he really feel? Lionpaw suddenly wished he had Jaypaw’s powers to see into Firestar’s mind. Was he proud to have them as his kin? Pleased that his Clan would be safe forever, guarded by such powerful cats? Or was he anxious, as Jaypaw feared, about having cats more powerful than himself in the Clan?
The thorn barrier shivered as Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw padded through, followed by Foxpaw and Berrynose.
“The borders are quiet,” Brambleclaw called to his leader.
“But the sunset patrol should check the WindClan border closely. By the smell of it, they’ve been hunting in the woods on their side.”
Firestar was settling down beneath Highledge, Sandstorm at his side. “It looks like they’ve developed a taste for squirrel,” he remarked.
Cinderpaw, sharing a pigeon with Honeypaw, looked up eagerly. “Can I go out on sunset patrol?” Now that her injured leg was recovered enough to return to apprentice duties, she seemed keen to take on any task, as though making up for lost time.
“Yes.” Brambleclaw nodded. “I was going to ask Graystripe to lead it.”
“Did someone mention Graystripe?” Millie padded from the nursery, blinking sleep from her eyes.
Graystripe was repairing a tear in the nursery wall where winds had unraveled the carefully threaded brambles. “Are you okay?” He looked closely at Millie. She was fat with her kits, which were expected any day now.
“Fine.” Millie picked up two mice from the fresh-kill pile.
“I’d just rather share a meal outside with you.” She carried the meal to where Firestar and Sandstorm lay. Graystripe tucked in a final tendril with his paws and hurried to join her.