His mother, Violetshine, said nothing, but her eyes were warm with praise, and she padded beside Rootpaw on the way to the fresh-kill pile, and leaned toward him to give his ears a loving lick. Even Leafstar, standing beside the pile with Hawkwing and Reedclaw, gave him an approving nod.
“The Clan will eat well tonight,” she mewed.
Rootpaw ducked his head; he felt embarrassed all over again, but this time he enjoyed the feeling, because he had earned the respect of his Clan. He could see that the fresh-kill pile was bigger than it had been for many days, and no cat in the Clan would go hungry.
“Why don’t you take some prey to Fallowfern,” Dewspring instructed him. “Then you can come back and eat.”
“Yes, take her this vole,” Tree added, pushing the body of his prey over to Rootpaw. “It’s pretty plump, considering it’s leaf-bare.”
Rootpaw willingly agreed, picking up the vole and bounding across the camp to set it down in front of the deaf elder, who was sitting outside her den with her paws tucked under her.
“Thank you,” Fallowfern meowed, swiping her tongue around her jaws. “That looks tasty!”
On his way back to the fresh-kill pile, Rootpaw halted as Turtlepaw stepped out in front of him. “That was an awesome catch,” she mewed. She couldn’t quite meet Rootpaw’s gaze, and he was surprised at how shy she sounded.
“I was lucky, that’s all,” he responded.
Kitepaw was standing a couple of paces behind Turtlepaw, and Rootpaw braced himself for some mocking remark, but the reddish-brown tom said nothing, only giving Rootpaw a respectful nod as he followed him and Turtlepaw to join the rest of the Clan.
By now, most cats had settled down to eat, but no cat had taken Rootpaw’s crow. “We’re leaving that for you,” Tree meowed, flicking his tail toward Rootpaw’s prey. “There’s enough to eat for every cat, and you might as well enjoy your first big catch.”
“You can choose some cats to share it with,” Dewspring added.
Rootpaw nodded eagerly. It’s great to be able to feed my Clanmates! He beckoned Needlepaw with his tail, then turned more hesitantly toward Kitepaw and Turtlepaw. “Would you like some?” he asked, trying not to feel nervous.
“Thanks!” Turtlepaw meowed, crouching down beside the crow.
Kitepaw looked surprised, but gave Rootpaw a nod of thanks and sat beside his denmate, sinking his teeth into the crow. “Where did you find this?” he mumbled.
“Down near the lake,” Rootpaw replied, sitting next to Needlepaw and tearing off a chunk of prey. “Not far from the border with ThunderClan.”
Turtlepaw nodded. “That’s a good place,” she agreed.
Needlepaw gulped down a mouthful. “Dewspring must have been pleased,” she mewed.
“He was,” Rootpaw replied. “I was beginning to think he’d always be disappointed in me.”
“Most mentors are like that,” Turtlepaw assured him. “You should have heard Blossomheart when I first became her apprentice. I thought I would never do anything right!”
Rootpaw felt warmed by the older apprentices’ friendliness, as if something had suddenly changed. Maybe they’re not so bad after all, he thought.
“You know,” Kitepaw began, “I was impressed by you, that day you fell through the ice. It was a brave thing to do, standing up for yourself and attacking me like that. Stupid,” he added, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes, “but brave.”
Suddenly happy, Rootpaw let out a small mrrow of laughter. He had made a lucky catch to feed his Clan, he might just be beginning to make friends with Kitepaw and Turtlepaw, and even Tree was being slightly less embarrassing than usual. For the first time he began to believe that this terrible leaf-bare would soon pass, and every cat would be fine.
Chapter 9
Bristlepaw flexed her paws to bring feeling back into them as she paused in the snow, surveying the moonlit trees and letting her mentor’s instructions run through her mind. Wind direction . . . uneven ground . . . focus . . . This time I’ll catch something for sure!
Tasting the air, she crept forward, setting each paw down as lightly as a falling leaf, and keeping her tail tucked in to her side. Her ears were pricked to pick up the least sound of prey, but long moments dragged by, and still there was nothing.
Flexing her claws, Bristlepaw couldn’t help letting out a growl of exasperation. “I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong!”
Her mentor, Rosepetal, padded up behind her and briefly rested her tail-tip on Bristlepaw’s shoulder. “You’re not doing anything wrong,” she explained patiently. “Every cat is having trouble hunting.”
“But it’s been nearly half a moon since I failed my assessment,” Bristlepaw protested miserably. “And since then I haven’t caught any prey. I’m not helping my Clan at all!”
“But it’s not your fault,” Rosepetal reassured her. “I promise you, you’re doing everything right. You’re just having very bad luck in a very bad leaf-bare.”
Bristlepaw heaved a deep sigh. “I guess I’ll just keep trying.”
“No, that’s enough for today,” Rosepetal responded. “It’s getting late; we should be heading back to camp.”
Bristlepaw opened her jaws to argue, then realized that her mentor was right. The scarlet light of sunset had faded. Starlight glittered on the snow-covered ground, except where trees and undergrowth cast patches of deep shade. There would be no more hunting until tomorrow. Reluctantly Bristlepaw nodded; her head and tail drooped as she followed Rosepetal back to the stone hollow.
As Bristlepaw emerged from the thorn tunnel into the clearing, she spotted Thriftpaw and Flippaw bounding across the camp toward her.
“Hey, guess what?” Flippaw yowled as he halted in front of her, panting with excitement. “Thriftpaw caught two mice! Two!”
“It was just luck,” Thriftpaw meowed. Her eyes shone as she tried and failed to hide how proud she was. “And Flippaw nearly caught a vole.”
“I was mouse-brained,” Flippaw confessed. “I messed up my pounce. Hollytuft got it, though.”
“That’s great,” Bristlepaw responded. She wanted to be excited for Thriftpaw, but a weight of misery was gathering in her belly. Obviously there’s prey out there, she thought. How come Thriftpaw can catch it and I can’t?
Heading farther into the camp, with Thriftpaw and Flippaw close behind her, Bristlepaw spotted Bramblestar and the Clan deputy, Squirrelflight, with their heads close together, deep in conversation with the two medicine cats. Curious, Bristlepaw drifted nearer so that she could overhear what they were saying.
“Every Clan is having the same problems?” Bramblestar asked, his amber eyes dark with worry. “No cat can make contact with StarClan?”
“That’s right,” Jayfeather replied. “We haven’t met with StarClan at the last two half-moon meetings. And as far as I know, they haven’t sent dreams or visions to any cat.”
“It’ll be a disaster if we’re cut off from our ancestors for long,” Alderheart added. “What if we don’t follow the right path? What if we mess up our own destinies?”
Bristlepaw was glad to think about something other than Thriftpaw’s hunting success. “Huh!” she muttered, turning to her littermates with a dismissive flick of her tail. “ThunderClan ought to be more worried about the shortage of prey, not whether we can talk to some dead cats in the sky.”
Thriftpaw and Flippaw both let out purrs of amusement at their sister’s daring. But their purrs broke off a moment later and their eyes widened as they gazed at something behind Bristlepaw.
“What?” she asked.
A voice, icy as the leaf-bare wind, cut across the single word. “What kind of stupid furball are you?”