“Don’t you see? That’s the special power the prophecy gave you, to fight better than any other warrior in the Clans.”
“You don’t understand,” Lionblaze muttered. “It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like I have to keep practicing.”
“Well, you’d better not let Firestar catch you again. Cats are already starting to talk,” Hollyleaf warned. “We can’t let the rest of the Clan know about the prophecy, not until we’re sure what it means.”
“I’ll do my best,” Lionblaze promised, letting his shoulders sag. “I won’t get into any fights with other warriors.” At least, not where Firestar can hear us.
Thick darkness surrounded Lionblaze; the shrieks of battling cats echoed in his ears. He could taste the reek of blood and felt it clogging his paws and plastered in his pelt. His chest heaved as though he had been fighting all night. A gleam of moonlight pierced the clouds that churned across the sky; a single ray shed pale light on the ground at his paws. Lionblaze caught his breath in horror as he made out the body of Heatherpaw splayed out in the mud in front of him.
A gash ran down her body from her neck to her tail. Her light tabby fur was soaked with blood, black in the silver light.
Her lips were drawn back in a frozen snarl and her blue eyes stared sightlessly at the sky.
“No… no…” he whimpered.
He started at the touch of a tail on his shoulder and whirled around to face Tigerstar’s intense amber gaze.
“Well done,” the huge tabby purred. “That was a battle well fought.”
“But this—this isn’t what I wanted!” Lionblaze protested.
“Isn’t it?” There was the hint of a growl in Tigerstar’s voice, and his eyes blazed. “Remember how she betrayed you! She nearly destroyed your whole Clan by telling WindClan about the tunnels.”
“But…” Lionblaze reached out a paw and laid it gently on Heatherpaw’s flank. Her fur was cold. “She didn’t deserve to die like this,” he murmured.
“All traitors deserve to die!” The fire in Tigerstar’s eyes flared up until Lionblaze was smothered in it; he let out a yowl of terror, expecting to feel his fur being scorched. His paws thrashed on the blood-soaked ground, but he couldn’t move.
Another cat thrust a paw into his shoulder from behind.
Lionblaze turned and unsheathed his claws, ready to spring on his enemy.
Dustpelt stood in front of him, his gaze glittering with annoyance. Sunlight was pouring through the branches of the warriors’ den.
“Great StarClan, I thought WindClan was invading,” he snapped. “Do you have to make such a racket?”
“Sorry,” Lionblaze muttered. The moss and bracken from his nest was scattered from his thrashing around, and several other cats were looking up drowsily to see what the noise was about.
“I should think so.” Dustpelt turned away and went to curl up beside Ferncloud again.
Lionblaze was still shaking from his dream, his blood pounding with the heat of battle. He rose to his paws and pushed his way out of the den. Sandstorm and Spiderleg, over by the fresh-kill pile, turned to look at him curiously.
The vision of Heatherpaw’s broken body hovered in Lionblaze’s mind, clearer than the clearing in front of him. Is that what I’m becoming? A cat who slaughters? A cat like Tigerstar?
He wished he had never heard of the prophecy, and could be just an ordinary warrior with the same fighting skills as all his Clanmates.
But the words of the prophecy had been spoken, and Lionblaze knew there was no escape from the destiny it would bring down upon him and his littermates.
Chapter 4
Jaypaw turned away from counting poppy heads when he heard Leafpool brushing past the bramble screen into the den. Briarkit’s scent mingled with hers, and he heard a feeble cough from the young kit dangling from the medicine cat’s jaws.
“Briarkit’s worse?” he asked anxiously.
Leafpool set the kit down in a nest of bracken; Jaypaw heard the stems rustling as Briarkit tried to make herself comfortable.
“It’s what I was afraid of,” Leafpool meowed. “Briarkit has caught Millie’s cough. And Millie’s no better. I’d like to move her in here, too, but I don’t think Daisy could cope with feeding Bumblekit and Blossomkit as well as her own. And we’ve no room for all of them in here.”
Jaypaw felt steady waves of anxiety coming from his mentor like the surge of waves on the lakeshore. “Why are you so worried? It’s only whitecough.”
Leafpool sighed. “It could easily turn into greencough, especially with the cold weather coming.” Lowering her voice in case Briarkit was listening, she went on, “There are several kits in the Clan, and Mousefur is very frail. We could end up losing cats.”
She slid beside Jaypaw into the storage cave. “We’re almost out of catmint,” she murmured. “There’s enough for Briarkit now, and another dose for Millie, and that’s all.”
“I’ll go and fetch some more,” Jaypaw offered instantly.
“That would be a big help,” Leafpool mewed. “Take another cat with you—no, not because I think you can’t manage on your own,” she added as if she knew he would start bristling. “Two of you can carry twice as many stems.”
“Okay. Shall I take the other catmint to Millie first?”
“No, I’ll do that. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back with fresh supplies.”
When Jaypaw emerged into the clearing, the first cat he located was Poppyfrost, crouched by the fresh-kill pile. He hurried over to her.
“Are you busy?”
Poppyfrost gulped down a mouthful of vole. “Not very,” she replied. “Brightheart suggested I might help clear the bedding out of the warriors’ den—there’s so much of it now, and it’s a hard job when there are only two apprentices. But to be honest, I wouldn’t mind an excuse not to do it.” She swallowed the last of the prey and rose to her paws. “What do you want me to do?”
Jaypaw explained about Briarkit and the need to fetch more catmint.
“Poor little scrap,” Poppyfrost mewed sympathetically. “Of course I’ll help. Let’s go!”
She bounded across the clearing to the tunnel, leaving Jaypaw to follow. Once through the tunnel he caught up to her, and they headed for the abandoned Twoleg nest. Jaypaw felt his paws prickle at the memory of the battle; though the scents of blood and fear had faded, the screeches of fighting cats still echoed in his head. He steered Poppyfrost away from the tunnel where the WindClan cats had invaded ThunderClan territory; he didn’t want to think about what it meant if there was another entrance into the underground caves where he had first met Rock.
He began sniffing for catmint as they approached the Twoleg nest, but instead of the sharp, clean scent of the herb all he could pick up was a musty smell.
“Oh, no!” Poppyfrost halted abruptly.
“What’s the matter?”
“The catmint. Oh, Jaypaw, it’s almost all gone!”
“Gone? It can’t be!”
Poppyfrost bounded forward and Jaypaw followed. He felt soft, thick grass under his paws, then a strip of churned soil where the Twolegs had once grown plants. The musty smell was all around him now, mingled with the occasional hint of fresh leaves.
“What can you see?” he demanded.
“It’s all squashed,” Poppyfrost replied, her voice filled with distress. “The stems are broken down, all black and rotten.”
Jaypaw felt a dark space of fear open up inside him. “That won’t help the sick cats.”
“I know. It must have happened in the battle.”
Jaypaw lashed his tail. “I bet WindClan and RiverClan did this deliberately.”