Jayfeather headed along a trail weaving between the gray, whispering trees. “We’ve got to try. Otherwise, why did we come?” He smelled tom. The scent was darkly familiar, but he couldn’t tell which Clan it belonged to. He glanced over his shoulder, checking that Yellowfang and Spottedleaf were close behind.
Spottedleaf’s mouth was open, her nostrils twitching.
“Can you smell that?” he whispered.
“Wait!” Yellowfang was staring wildly into the trees. “Let’s go back. We can’t do any good here.”
Jayfeather shifted his paws. What was spooking the old cat so much?
“Hello.” A deep growl sounded on the path ahead. Jayfeather jerked his head around.
A huge black cat blocked the way. “What are you doing here?”
Jayfeather froze, the scent of the tom stirring his memory. Where had he met this warrior? He lifted his chin bravely, preparing to answer the tom’s question.
Then he realized that the cat wasn’t talking to him. The warrior’s hard amber gaze was fixed on Yellowfang.
At once Jayfeather found himself plunged into a whirl of memories. Yellowfang yowling as she kitted, squirming in the shadows, hiding from her Clan. A small bundle of fur dropping into another cat’s nest—a queen who did not care for her new charge, who bit it and nipped it and deprived it of milk as punishment for being born at all. Then the kit, fully grown. Brokenstar. The name blazed in Jayfeather’s mind. A strong, well-muscled warrior, fattened by his own hunting skill, as hungry for power as a fox was for rabbit. The death of a leader and darkness descending over a Clan in chaos. Then suddenly he saw Yellowfang again, powerful now; the warrior weak, blind, battered, imprisoned, but still with the murderous glint in his eye. Through Yellowfang’s eyes Jayfeather watched the cat struggle as she forced him to eat deathberries, saw him convulse and die, swearing hatred and vengeance. He felt searing guilt slice through his heart: the guilt of a queen who had brought such a monster into the world. The guilt of a mother who had driven him from it.
I murdered my own son!
Shuddering as he drew in a deep breath, Jayfeather struggled out of the nightmarish visions and back into reality.
This was Brokenstar. Yellowfang’s kit!
The cat was staring at his mother with cold contempt, his bared yellow teeth glinting in the eerie light.
Jayfeather backed away, pressing against Yellowfang’s pelt. “You were his mother?” he breathed. “But you were a medicine cat!”
Yellowfang dragged her gaze from her son and stared at Jayfeather. “Mistakes happen,” she growled.
Jayfeather flinched away. Mistakes happen? Is that how she sees me?
Spottedleaf’s sweet breath brushed his ear fur. “You weren’t a mistake, Jayfeather. Your mother always loved you.” She glanced at Brokenstar. “You were always loved, Jayfeather.”
Brokenstar hissed, “What do you want?”
Jayfeather opened his mouth, reaching for something to say. But his mind still whirled with everything he had seen and learned about Yellowfang in those few moments of shared memory.
I trusted her!
She was no better than Leafpool!
Spottedleaf pushed past both of them and faced Brokenstar. “What are you doing?” Her mew was commanding.
Brokenstar looked at her as if he had only just noticed she was there. “Nothing.”
“I’m talking about training the cats from the Clans by the lake,” she pressed.
Brokenstar blinked, his eyes softening into enticing pools. “Training cats by the lake?” Brokenstar’s mew rang with the innocence of a kit. “Why would we do that?”
Spottedleaf refused to be swayed. “That’s what we want to know.”
Brokenstar swept his tail behind him. “Look around,” he purred invitingly. “Explore a little.”
Jayfeather found himself following the warrior’s gaze as it flitted over the dank, gray trees and wreaths of mist.
“See as much of my home as you like,” he urged.
“Okay.” Spottedleaf took a step forward but he blocked her.
“But of course,” he murmured sweetly, “if I let StarClan see the Dark Forest, then StarClan must allow me to visit their hunting grounds.” He showed his teeth. “Isn’t that only fair? Surely the warrior code would expect it.” His mouth twisted into a sneer.
Yellowfang leaped forward and crouched, bristling, in front of him. “That will never happen!”
Brokenstar shrugged. “Then you can’t come any farther into my territory.”
He turned away.
Jayfeather leaped after him, hackles up.
“No!” Spottedleaf blocked his attack, shouldering him away. “It’s not a fight you would win,” she insisted, holding his gaze.
Disappointed, Jayfeather nodded. She was right. If only Lionblaze could come here!
“Come on.” Spottedleaf turned and gently nosed Yellowfang back along the path. The old cat’s eyes stared blankly ahead of her. Jayfeather had no wish to probe her thoughts now. Her eyes showed nothing but pain.
They padded along the path until Brokenstar had faded into the mist behind them.
Jayfeather stumbled suddenly as Spottedleaf nudged his shoulder. Bundling him off the path, she pushed him into the low verge of wilting gray ferns. Yellowfang halted and stared around, confused.
“Over here!” Spottedleaf hissed at her.
Bewildered, Yellowfang slid in beside them. “What are you doing?”
“Go home,” Spottedleaf ordered. “You’re no help to us while Brokenstar is around. He clouds your judgment.” She touched her muzzle to the old cat’s shoulder. “Go back to StarClan,” she murmured, “where you are loved.”
Yellowfang blinked at her and sighed. “Very well.”
“If we don’t return,” Spottedleaf added, “send a patrol for us.”
Yellowfang nodded. “I’ll wait for you by the waterfall.” She nosed her way through the ferns. “Be careful!”
“We will,” Spottedleaf promised. She led Jayfeather farther from the path, weaving through the dank undergrowth, only half-visible in the mist.
Jayfeather kept close, his paws wet and cold as he padded over the sticky earth.
Water murmured ahead of them as they crept from the ferns. A sluggish river heaved its way through the forest, its waters dark and lifeless.
Spottedleaf scanned the bank. No fallen tree spanned the water. No rocks dotted its course. Jayfeather shuddered. He hoped she wasn’t going to suggest they swim across.
“Look!” she hissed.
There were figures moving among the trees, beyond the water. Half-shrouded in mist, warriors gathered.
“Always aim for the throat.” A shadow-pelted tabby was lecturing the others. He grasped a wiry brown tom, hooking his claws into his ragged fur and hurling him to the ground. “See?”
The tom struggled helplessly as the tabby ran a claw along his throat. Blood rose in its trail.
Jayfeather felt Spottedleaf stiffen beside him. “Darkstripe,” she breathed.
The tabby turned and stared in their direction.
Jayfeather ducked, his heart pounding as Darkstripe blinked.
“It’s okay; he hasn’t seen us,” Spottedleaf whispered.
A low growl set Jayfeather’s pelt on end. Hawkfrost padded from the shadows, knocking Darkstripe away from his victim. “Concentrate on what you’re doing!” He grabbed the bleeding tom and shoved him back toward the line of watching cats.
The brown tom shook himself and lapped at his wound.
Hawkfrost snarled. “Worry about your pelt later!”
The tom stopped midlick and stared at Hawkfrost with rounded eyes.