I know he’s right, Alderheart thought, but I can’t help it. I forgot about Twigpaw, and now she’s dead…
Stars glittered in a clear indigo sky as ThunderClan gathered to sit vigil for Twigpaw, forming a ragged circle in the middle of the camp. Even though they had no body, the Clan could honor the apprentice and send her spirit out on its journey to StarClan.
Alderheart found it strangely comforting to crouch there in the darkness, with Sparkpelt at his side, silently supportive, and listen to one cat after another offering their memories of Twigpaw. But at the same time there was a weird feeling in the camp, perhaps because of the presence of the ShadowClan and RiverClan cats. They had formed an outer circle, listening politely to the ThunderClan ceremony. But Alderheart knew that they couldn’t share in his Clanmates’ grief for Twigpaw; they had hardly known her.
The last few days have been so confusing, he thought, I don’t suppose many of the others even realized that Twigpaw was gone.
Ivypool was on her paws now, speaking about when Twigpaw had first become her apprentice, and how she had taken her for her first tour of the territory. “She was so excited, so eager to learn,” she mewed. “She would have made a fine warrior.”
Dipping her head to Bramblestar, she sat down again and curled her tail around her front paws.
“Thank you, Ivypool,” Bramblestar murmured. “Alderheart,” he added, turning to his son with amber eyes that gleamed in the starlight, “would you like to say a few words?”
Alderheart stumbled to his paws, but for a moment he had no idea what to say. When Twigpaw and Violetpaw arrived, he remembered, many of us were convinced that they were ‘what you find in the shadows’ from the prophecy. I believed it myself… but now I’m not so sure. And I don’t want to start that argument again—not right now.
As he hesitated, Sparkpelt gave him a gentle nudge in the side, her gaze warm and encouraging. “You can do this,” she whispered.
Suddenly Alderheart found that he could. “Like Ivypool said, she was eager to learn,” he stammered. “She was… she was lively, and she loved life. She felt things so… so deeply.” At last he came up with the one thing he was sure of, and the only thing that mattered now. “Twigpaw was… She was my friend.”
Feeling breathless, with no more words, he sat down heavily at his sister’s side.
Light-headed after his sleepless night, Alderheart turned to his tasks in the medicine cats’ den, hoping that work would help him to push away his grief and guilt. He was helping Briarlight with her exercises, tossing a ball of moss for her to catch, when he heard yowls of outrage coming from the camp outside.
Oh, no! he thought, pausing with the moss ball in his claws. What now?
“Go on,” Briarlight urged him. “Go find out what’s happening—and then come back and tell me about it.”
Alderheart brushed past the bramble screen and emerged into the camp to see the dawn patrol padding across the stone hollow from the thorn tunnel. Lionblaze, in the lead, was limping, while blood was trickling from a scratch on Berrynose’s shoulder, and Rosepetal had lost a lump of fur on her side. All three of them were bristling with fury.
“Bramblestar!” Lionblaze yowled, gazing up at the Highledge. “We need to report!”
The Clan leader stuck his head out of his den, took one look at the ragged patrol, and raced down the tumbled rocks to speak with them. Squirrelflight spotted them from where she stood with Cloudtail and Brightheart beside the fresh-kill pile; Alderheart heard her let out a shocked meow as she bounded over to her Clan leader’s side. Brightheart and Cloudtail ran after her, and more of the Clan emerged from their dens and gathered around the patrol, shooting anxious questions at them.
“What happened?”
“Was it the rogues?”
Alderheart noticed that Rowanstar and Mistystar had also slipped out of the warriors’ den and drawn closer with a few of their own warriors around them. They said nothing, but their eyes were watchful.
Jayfeather pushed his way through the crowd and began sniffing at Berrynose’s wound. “Give me some space,” he snapped. “These cats need treatment.”
“All in good time,” Bramblestar responded, waving his tail to keep the rest of the cats back. “First we need to know what happened.”
“We ran into some rogues at the ShadowClan border,” Rosepetal began.
Bramblestar closed his eyes briefly. “Please tell me you didn’t cross,” he mewed.
“We didn’t!” Berrynose exclaimed. “But those mange-pelts crossed into our territory and attacked us.”
A murmur of indignation rose from the cats who now surrounded the patrol. Cloudtail drew his lips back in a snarl and clawed at the ground in front of him.
“They drove us off.” Lionblaze’s tail-tip was twitching furiously; Alderheart could understand the magnificent warrior’s anger at having been defeated by a bunch of rogues.
“Because we were way outnumbered,” Berrynose added. “But we did give them something to remember us by.” He swiped his tongue around his jaws as if he had tasted a particularly juicy piece of fresh-kill.
“One of them—I think it was Nettle—yowled at us,” Rosepetal meowed. “He told us that the rogues are coming for ThunderClan next. He said, ‘It’s only a matter of time.’”
“Of course it’s only a matter of time.” Rowanstar shouldered his way into the center of the circle that surrounded the patrol. “Until we drive off these rogues, we’re all in danger! How long can we go on like this?”
“You’re a fine one to talk!” Mistystar slipped up to Rowanstar’s side and glared at him, her blue eyes like splinters of ice. “This is all happening because you couldn’t manage to drive the rogues out of ShadowClan territory when they first arrived. Now they’ve not only taken over your Clan, but RiverClan as well! It’s your fault that we’re in this position, and I’m not about to risk the lives of my injured cats just to repair your pride!”
Rowanstar returned glare for glare, his neck fur bristling as he slid out his claws. “The rogues are a problem for all of us,” he hissed. “That should be obvious now.”
For a moment, the two Clan leaders stood nose to nose, their stiff limbs and fluffed-up fur making Alderheart afraid that they were about to attack each other. What hope do we have, if we fight among ourselves?
But before either of the cats could lash out, Bramblestar thrust his way between them. His amber eyes were burning with frustration. “That’s enough!” he snapped. “Things are difficult for every cat. Do you think it will help your warriors to see their leaders scrapping like kits?”
Breathing heavily, Rowanstar took a pace backward. “I don’t want a fight,” he stated, clearly struggling to be calm. “I’m only saying—again—that we have to do something. Quickly.”
Bramblestar nodded. “I agree with you, but it’s not as simple as attacking the rogues outright. Remember, we tried that once—it didn’t go well.”
Bramblestar gave Rowanstar a hard look, and Rowanstar’s lips pulled back in a snarl. But Bramblestar went on before the ShadowClan leader could argue. “Besides, it’s not just that attacking now would put the RiverClan cats at risk”—he dipped his head briefly to Mistystar—“but that even though we still outnumber the rogues, it’s by a smaller margin. We can’t count on WindClan’s help. The RiverClan warriors are still recovering from their injuries; they are nowhere near ready to take on another battle. And Darktail is a vicious cat. Even if we could kill him and defeat his followers, we would shed too much blood in doing so. Besides, the rogues now hold two territories. If we retake one, they can always retreat to the other.”