Eclipse

Once outside the bramble-covered entrance he checked the clearing, tasting the air and pricking his ears for any sign of life. Squirrelflight was padding sleepily from the thorn tunnel. She must have been on guard overnight. “Don’t move,” Jaypaw warned Cinderpaw. The pair stood still as Squirrelflight padded into the warriors’ den.

The entrance would be unguarded for a few moments while Squirrelflight woke her replacement. The dawn patrol was due back, and Leafpool was sure to return from dirtplace before long.

“Come on.” He nudged Cinderpaw forward, and they made awkward progress across the clearing. Jaypaw tensed every time Cinderpaw stumbled and growled with pain. He willed her on, praying her courage would hold and hoping no one could hear her. As they reached the thorn barrier, it rustled.

Jaypaw sniffed the air and froze. “Leafpool.” The medicine cat was returning through the dirtplace tunnel at the far end of the barrier.

Quickly, he pressed Cinderpaw against the thorny hedge and flicked his tail across her mouth to silence her gasp. Leafpool’s paws scuffed across the clearing as she headed back to her den. The moment the bramble-covered entrance swished shut, Jaypaw steered Cinderpaw into the thorn tunnel and nudged her onward. “You’re doing really well,” he encouraged.

“I’m not getting much choice,” she grumbled.

She was panting with effort by the time they had cleared the camp. Once they reached the trees, Jaypaw relaxed a little.

They would be out of sight of the camp guard and any patrol here.

“Rest a moment,” he mewed.

Cinderpaw sat down, relieved. “Where are you going?”

“Just scouting for the best route.” He felt his way carefully forward, testing the ground for slippery leaves, checking that no fallen branches blocked the path. Cinderpaw was in a lot of pain, and he wanted to make the journey as easy as possible for her.

When he returned, she had flopped onto her side, but her breathing had eased. Jaypaw sniffed her leg, touching his nose to her fur. It didn’t feel too hot, and the swelling hadn’t grown any worse.

“Your leg’s doing great,” he mewed.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Cinderpaw moaned.

“Imagine we’re going to save a drowning kit,” Jaypaw suggested.

Cinderpaw lifted her head.

“You wouldn’t let a sore leg stop you from getting there.”

She heaved herself to her paws. “No way!”

That’s more like the old Cinderpaw! “Come on, then.” Jaypaw pressed in beside her once more, taking her weight the best he could.

Her whiskers twitched, tickling his cheek. “A blind cat leading the way!”

“I bet you never thought it was possible.” Jaypaw was glad to hear her joking.

The smooth grass beyond the trees was slippery, and they slid and stumbled down the slope toward the lake.

“Are you sure you’re not trying to make me worse?” Cinderpaw mewed through gritted teeth as they fell for the third time.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise.” Jaypaw hoped it was true. Was swimming really the answer? StarClan, let me be right!

A cool breeze lifted their fur as he finally helped Cinderpaw onto the beach. The shingle crunched under their paws.

“The lake’s beautiful today,” Cinderpaw breathed. “With the wind ruffling the water, it looks like soft gray fur.”

Jaypaw padded cautiously forward, expecting to find himself wading at any moment. But the water level had fallen since yesterday. He remembered with a twinge how close he’d come to losing his stick, then hopped backward as the waves lapped unexpectedly at his paws.

“Is it cold?” Cinderpaw mewed anxiously.

“Not too bad.” Jaypaw’s fur along his spine rippled. He’d have to wade in with her. How else could he persuade her there was nothing to worry about? Tensing against the tug of the lake, he padded a tail-length out, trying not to show how much he hated the feel of the water soaking his leg fur. “Come on!”

Water splashed as Cinderpaw limped out after him. “Now what?” she asked, pausing beside him.

“Just keep walking until you can’t feel the stones under your paws anymore.”

Cinderpaw’s fur bristled. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is.” Jaypaw remembered struggling to shore after he was washed out of the tunnels, the terrifying sensation of water dragging him down, how he’d fought to stay afloat. “You’ll know what to do,” he promised Cinderpaw. After all, he’d managed to stay afloat, hadn’t he?

Cinderpaw pressed against him, fear pulsing beneath her pelt. “I can’t.”

Jaypaw tried to picture the lake stretching before her, but his mind was swept into a vision of thick woodland. Vibrant green ferns circled a gray she-cat. Cinderpelt sat inside the medicine cat’s den at the old camp. The night sky arced over her head, flecked with stars. “I’ll do anything to be a warrior,” she whispered, gazing up at the sparkling heavens.

Jaypaw blinked away the vision. “Do you want to be a warrior?” he asked Cinderpaw.

Cinderpaw didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”