Eclipse

He scrambled onto a thick root and leaned over the edge. The water was lapping the bank. He dug his hind claws into the bark, reached a forepaw down into the water, and felt for his stick.

It’s not there! He flapped his paw in the space beneath the root. With panic rising in his throat, he leaned farther out, planting his other forepaw on the muddy bank so water lapped his claws as he dangled over the edge. Reaching as far as he could, he splashed his paw in the lake, feeling desperately for the sleek piece of wood. The waves licked his muzzle, making him splutter.

Where is it? Had the lake taken it back? He might never see it again!

Something hard bumped his muzzle. Something floating on the waves. He sniffed, coughing as water shot up his nose.

But he recognized his stick at once. Flailing with his paw, he tried to drag the stick closer, but it bobbed out of reach each time he tried to hook it with a claw. Why was it so smooth?

Why couldn’t it have bark for him to grip? Fear and frustration stormed in his chest.

“What in the name of StarClan are you doing?” Teeth grasped his tail, and Jaypaw was jerked backward onto the top of the bank.

It was Firestar.

“I was just…” Jaypaw searched for the right words.

How could he explain his need for the stick? But it might be floating out of reach while he stood here trying to tell Firestar. “I have to have that stick!” He prayed that the desperation in his mew would be enough. Hope f lashed in his heart as Firestar brushed past him to peer over the edge of the bank.

“What? That smooth stick floating near the bank?”

“Yes!” Jaypaw almost wailed.

“It won’t sink, you know,” Firestar informed him. “Wood doesn’t. Will it matter if it does?”

Jaypaw took a deep breath. “Yes,” he mewed. “It matters very much… to me.” He fought to keep calm as Firestar’s curious gaze warmed his pelt.

“Okay,” Firestar meowed, after what seemed like moons.

“I’ll get it.”

The ThunderClan leader’s claws scratched the tree roots as he leaned out and fished in the water. Jaypaw could hear splashing and Firestar’s grunt as he grasped something in his jaws.

He’s got it!

The stick scraped against the muddy bank as Firestar heaved it out and dropped it onto dry land.

“Thank you!” Jaypaw sighed, pressing his paw to the wet wood.

“Do you want me to carry it back to camp for you?” Firestar puffed.

“No!” The word blurted out before Jaypaw could think.

This was his secret. The fur along his spine rippled at the thought of Leafpool asking questions, of his Clanmates staring at his stick, seeing what he could not see, touching what was his.

“Well, it’s safe now,” Firestar meowed. He leaned closer to the stick. “It’s got some unusual scratches on it. Did you put them there?”

“No,” Jaypaw answered honestly, his pelt burning. He curled his claws, hoping Firestar wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“Come on,” Firestar meowed. “Let’s head back.”

Thank you, StarClan! Jaypaw rolled the stick to the nearest stubby bush and pushed it close to the trunk, wedging one end under a gnarled root. He didn’t think the water would ever rise this high, but even if it did, the stick shouldn’t float away again. Good-bye, he whispered before turning and following his Clan leader up the grassy slope that led to the forest.

As they entered the trees, Jaypaw tried to pick up Firestar’s thoughts. He wanted to know what the ThunderClan leader truly felt about him, knowing the prophecy. But, like Leafpool’s mind when she was on her guard, Firestar’s thoughts were clouded and impossible to read.

“How’s Cinderpaw?” Firestar asked. There was worry in his voice. Jaypaw remembered his vision: Firestar had been the one to tell Cinderpelt she’d never be a warrior. He felt a rush of pity for his leader. Cinderpaw’s latest injury must have scratched old wounds.

“She’ll be okay, won’t she?” Firestar pressed.

Jaypaw answered cautiously. “She’s in a lot of pain. It’s hard to tell how bad the injury is.” He didn’t want to contradict anything Leafpool might have said to Firestar.

“That name must bring bad luck,” Firestar murmured, half to himself. Jaypaw had to fight the urge to tell him that Cinderpaw didn’t just share Cinderpelt’s name, but her spirit.

They walked in silence to the hollow, and, as they entered the camp, Leafpool trotted up, breathless. “Are you okay?” she asked Jaypaw.

“He’s fine,” Firestar told her. “I met him in the woods and we walked back together.”

Jaypaw was grateful that Firestar hadn’t mentioned the stick.

“Come fetch some mouse bile with me,” Leafpool ordered Jaypaw. “Daisy has a tick.”