Jayfeather scuffed the hot ground with his paw. “I’m sure he just wants to take care of you.”
Poppyfrost didn’t reply; she just let out a disbelieving snort and headed for the water.
Putting the tension out of his mind, Jayfeather returned to the shore and located his stick, carefully wedged under some elder roots a tail-length or so from the bank. Settling down in the shade of the elder bush, he ran his paw along the scratch marks. Faint whispers wreathed around his ears, and he recognized some of the voices from the time he spent with the ancient clan. He strained to hear what they were saying, but they were too quiet. A pang of sadness pierced him, like a thorn, that he had left them behind. They had been his friends, once—and he had helped to send them away from the lake forever. The spirits of the ancient cats seemed to be all around him now, brushing their tails along his pelt, mingling their scents with that of the dry lake.
What do you want? Jayfeather asked, sensing their anxiety.
But there was no reply.
Yowls from the edge of the water distracted him. Shoving the stick back under the roots, he crawled out from under the elder bush and rose to his paws.
“This is WindClan’s part of the lake!” Jayfeather stiffened as he recognized Breezepelt’s voice. “Get back to your own side.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Icecloud protested. “Our territories end three tail-lengths from the shore.”
“The shore is where the water starts,” Breezepelt growled. “And that makes this part of the lake WindClan territory. So get your tails out of here!”
“Do you want to make us?” That was Berrynose’s voice; Jayfeather could imagine the cream-colored warrior squaring up for a fight, his fur bristling and his teeth bared in a snarl.
A fight is the last thing we need! Jayfeather bounded forward, his belly fur brushing the dust and loose pebbles of the dry lakebed. “Stop!” he yowled, thrusting himself between the two warriors. “What value does the lakebed have to any Clan?”
He heard an enraged snarl and scented Breezepelt nose to nose with him. “You would say that, half-Clan cat!”
Jayfeather was jolted by the wave of hatred coming from the WindClan warrior. He took a step back, his nostrils flaring. “What has that got to do with—” he began.
Breezepelt pushed his face even closer to Jayfeather’s. “Your mother betrayed my father as well as her Clan,” he hissed. “You have no right to be a medicine cat. No right even to live among the Clans. I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done! Never!”
Jayfeather was too stunned to reply. He was aware of Berrynose bristling next to him. “I’ll claw him for you if you want, Jayfeather!” the young warrior growled.
Jayfeather shook his head. What would that change? He heard paw steps approaching and scented Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” Breezepelt replied. “Just a misunderstanding about getting to the water.”
Ashfoot turned to Jayfeather. “You should advise your warriors to keep to your own side of the lake,” she warned. “To avoid future misunderstandings.”
Jayfeather wasn’t about to quarrel, not with Breezepelt breathing venom at him. “Very well,” he mewed, dipping his head to the deputy. Anger rose inside him as he picked up the smug feelings of triumph radiating from Breezepelt. “Come on,” he added to the ThunderClan patrol. “We’re doing no good here.”
He could feel the fury of the ThunderClan cats as they padded beside him toward their own territory.
“I can’t believe that mangy WindClan cat!” Icecloud spat. “How dare he tell us where we can and can’t go?”
“You should have let me get him!” Berrynose snarled.
“There was no call for what he said to you.” Brightheart’s mew was quieter, but Jayfeather could sense her shock.
He shrugged, not wanting to discuss the accusations Breezepelt had hurled at him, and to his relief Brightheart said nothing more. Leaving the patrol to head for the distant water, Jayfeather turned toward the shore, the hot wind ruffling his pelt. In spite of the heat, cold struck through him, bone-deep, and he felt the ancient cats wreathing around him once more.
Beware, Jay’s Wing, one of them whispered. Stormclouds are gathering on a dark breeze.
Chapter 15
A dry, dusty breeze swept over Dovepaw, rattling the branches above her head. She blinked awake and stretched her jaws in a huge yawn. For a couple of heartbeats she couldn’t remember where she was. This isn’t the apprentices’ den! Where’s Ivypaw?
She scrambled up, panic surging through her, only to recognize the den that she and the other cats had built the night before, and the clearing where they had fled from the dogs. The others were still asleep, except for Lionblaze, who was sitting a couple of tail-lengths away on the bank of the stream.
“Hi,” he purred. “I was awake when Whitetail finished her watch, so I took your shift.”
Every hair on Dovepaw’s pelt prickled with annoyance. Springing over the low bracken wall of the den, she stalked over to her mentor. “I can do my own shift!” she growled. “You don’t have to treat me like a kit.”
“You’ve only just been made an apprentice,” Lionblaze reminded her.
Dovepaw bit back a yowl of frustration. “The prophecy doesn’t care about that, does it?” she pointed out. “I had my power before I left the nursery. It’s not like StarClan waited for me to grow up first.”
Lionblaze opened his jaws to reply, but before he could speak a rustling noise came from the den and Sedgewhisker sat up, stretching. Her eyes were filled with shock as she looked around; then she seemed to remember where she was and stood up, shaking scraps of moss from her pelt.
“Hi, Sedgewhisker,” Dovepaw called. “How’s your shoulder?”
The WindClan she-cat flexed her leg experimentally, then looked up, purring with relief. “It’s much better, thanks. I can hardly feel anything.”
As she spoke, the other cats began stirring, looking tense when they realized how close they were to cats of other Clans.
“We should get on with hunting,” Toadfoot announced, jumping out of his nest. “Before it gets too hot and all the prey is hiding down holes.”
“Don’t go too far,” Lionblaze warned the cats as they scattered. “Remember, those dogs might still be around.”
Dovepaw cast out her senses, but she couldn’t pick up a trace of the dogs. The stupid creatures are probably still asleep in their Twoleg’s den. What she did pick up was a squirrel somewhere among the trees on the other side of the stream; she leaped onto the far bank and headed toward it. I’ll make up for that miserable little mouse I caught yesterday.
Slipping between the trees, she spotted the squirrel nibbling a seed at the foot of a beech tree. Dovepaw pressed herself to the ground, checked that the wind was blowing her scent away from her prey, and dropped into the hunter’s crouch. Step by silent step, she pulled herself closer. That’s right…look the other way…
One swift blow of her paw brought the squirrel down, and she trotted proudly back to the others, who were gathering again beside the den. Lionblaze had killed a vole, while Tigerheart had a couple of shrews and Toadfoot had a mouse. Whitetail and Sedgewhisker had caught a rabbit together.
“You should teach us that technique of hunting as a pair,” Lionblaze was suggesting as Dovepaw padded up with her fresh-kill. “It could be useful.”