As they began to settle down around her, Needlepaw padded up to Alderpaw. “I know Sandstorm wasn’t my Clanmate,” she murmured; to Alderpaw’s surprise she sounded almost shy. “But I traveled with her long enough to know what a great cat she was. May I keep vigil with you?”
“Sure,” Alderpaw replied, warming once again to the silver she-cat. “Come and sit by me.”
Sparkpaw crouched down beside
Sandstorm’s head, and gave her ears a lick.
“We’ve come all this way,” she mewed sorrowfully. “We’ve come so close to being killed by monsters or foxes; we’ve fought so hard to survive… It doesn’t seem fair that Sandstorm died anyway.”
“I know,” Cherryfall sighed. “She deserved so much more than this.”
“What do you think, Alderpaw?”
Molewhisker asked, turning to him. “Do you still want to go on?”
Alderpaw bit back a sharp retort. I just told them they could agonize after we laid Sandstorm to rest. “I’ll think about it during the vigil,” he replied.
“Maybe StarClan will send you a sign,” Cherryfall suggested.
The questing cats gathered around
Sandstorm’s body, staying there throughout the night. Sustained by the day spent drowsing in the den, Alderpaw didn’t find it hard to keep awake. He tried to focus on the future, but he couldn’t help wondering if there was anything he could have done to keep Sandstorm alive.
She told me in my vision that it was her destiny to die now, he thought. So why does my heart still ache? And if every cat is going to die eventually, why bother trying so hard to stay alive?
Eventually he dozed, and he roused to hear the voices of the other cats. Blinking his eyes open, he found himself surrounded by the gray light of dawn.
“Back in camp,” Cherryfall was mewing, “the elders bury our dead Clanmates.
Molewhisker and I are the oldest cats here, so we ought to do it.”
“But I want to help,” Sparkpaw protested, raw grief in her voice. “She was my mother’s mother.”
“Okay, you can,” Molewhisker told her comfortingly.
Alderpaw staggered to his paws, his legs stiff after the night spent in vigil. “Let me say the proper farewell to her.” He took a deep breath, looking up at the sky where a few warriors of StarClan still lingered. “May
StarClan light your path, Sandstorm,” he meowed, speaking the words used by medicine cats for season upon season. “May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.”
All the cats bowed their heads for a moment.
“We need to find a good spot for her burial,” Molewhisker mewed after a moment.
“What about under these bushes where she died?”
Cherryfall shook her head. “She’d be hidden from the stars there. Just beside the bushes would be better.”
Molewhisker nodded agreement. As he and Cherryfall were preparing to move Sandstorm’s body, he said quietly, “I think we should consider turning around and going home. This quest might be doomed.”
“What?” It was Needlepaw who spoke, her neck fur bristling. “Sandstorm died trying to help us complete this quest. If we stop now, won’t she have died in vain?”
Molewhisker swung around on her. “It’s not your decision,” he spat, his voice sharp as a claw. “In case it escaped your notice, you’re not a ThunderClan cat.”
Alderpaw felt his whole pelt quiver as he listened to the quarrel breaking out. Not waiting for Needlepaw’s response, he turned and padded away, keeping to the line of the fence they had crossed two days before. He just wanted to get out of earshot, to find a little peace and quiet where he could think.
His chest fur burned with grief for Sandstorm, and his head swam with indecision.
Should we even go on? Sandstorm so wanted to see SkyClan again, and that made me feel that we were meant to be on this quest. But now that she’s gone, do I even believe that these strange cats could be what StarClan says will solve our problems? Not even Bramblestar seemed certain of it. Sighing, he remembered his last vision of the SkyClan cats, when they were shrieking for help. Why do they need me? he asked himself. What can I do for them?
Looking up, he saw that the last starry spirits had vanished and the sky was brightening toward sunrise. I wonder if Sandstorm can see me now. Can she hear my thoughts? I really wish I could ask her for guidance.
Letting out another long sigh, he spoke aloud. “What am I going to do?”
“Tell them the truth,” a voice replied.
Alderpaw started and swung around, arching his back, even while he recognized the voice as Needlepaw’s. The ShadowClan cat showed none of her usual mischief as she approached him.
“The others have come this far,” she began, “and they won’t turn away from you now. You must go on. But first you must tell the others the truth about why you’re on this journey.”
“Do you even know why?” Alderpaw asked tartly.
“No, I don’t. I only heard a little bit of what you and Sandstorm said,” Needlepaw admitted, her eyes serious. “But I know there’s more behind it than you’ve told us, and I think it’s time every cat knew the truth. If you don’t tell them, I will.” As Alderpaw opened his jaws to protest, she added, “Or I’ll tell them what I know, and that will force you to tell the rest.”
Alderpaw stared at her in outrage. “I didn’t think you would betray me like that!”
Needlepaw flinched as if he had struck her a blow. “It’s not a betrayal,” she said, defending herself. “I’ve seen how you think things over—and over and over and over again. I know you’d never tell the others the truth on your own, but I think it’s important for them to know.”
“Why?” Alderpaw challenged her.
“It will help bind them together after losing Sandstorm,” Needlepaw explained; Alderpaw realized she must have thought long and hard about this. “And it will help every cat recognize how important the quest is. I saw how you and Sandstorm looked at each other when you talked about it; I know how serious it is.”
Alderpaw thought about that, then gave a nod, trying to hide his surprise. I can’t believe it’s Needlepaw of all cats giving me such wise advice. “I’ll do as you suggest,” he meowed.
The gleam returned to Needlepaw’s eyes.
“First, let’s go hunting,” she suggested. “Full bellies will help the truth go down easier!”
Alderpaw was about to argue when he felt a gnawing in his belly and realized that no cat had hunted since the previous morning. “You’re right,” he responded. “I’ll hunt with you.” Not that I’m likely to be much use, he added to himself.
Alderpaw crept across the grassland, trying to pick out prey-scent over the stink of farm animals that the breeze was carrying toward them. Just ahead of him, Needlepaw padded forward, slowly but decisively.
She must have found a scent, but I can’t smell anything except those weird creatures back there.
Suddenly Needlepaw halted, raising her tail to signal that she had spotted prey. Half turning toward Alderpaw, she jerked her head to one side, telling him to go that way.
Alderpaw obeyed, putting on speed as he wove his way through the long grass. I hope I’m not getting this totally wrong! Finally he caught the scent that Needlepaw must have picked up long before. Rabbit! At the same moment he spotted the creature a couple of fox-lengths in front of him, nibbling at some low-growing plant. Its ears shot up as Alderpaw tried to slide soundlessly around it, and it took off, its white tail bobbing as it raced away. With rising excitement Alderpaw gave chase.