Eclipse

“I can’t stand hearing it and doing nothing.” Ferncloud crouched in the clearing beside Jaypaw. Distant wails and screeches echoed from the forest.

“We need you here in case the camp is attacked again,” Jaypaw pointed out.

“Waiting is worse than fighting,” Ferncloud growled.

“Concentrate on noises inside the camp.”

“What noises?” Ferncloud stiffened beside him as she strained to listen. Couldn’t she hear the murmuring and shuffling from inside Firestar’s den?

Longtail and Mousefur were sheltering there with Millie, Daisy, and the kits. From the sound of it, they were having trouble finding room.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” Longtail complained.

“Just stay where you are,” Mousefur croaked. “If you move, you might tread on another kit.”

Another bout of mewling started, followed by Millie’s soothing mew. “It’s all right, little ones. Isn’t it fun to be in the leader’s den?”

“I want to be outside fighting!” Toadkit squeaked. “Not stuck in this hole.”

“You’ll turn your mother’s fur white with talk like that,” Mousefur scolded. “You’re too young to fight. Stop complaining and make yourself useful, like Rosekit.”

Rosekit was mewling softly to the younger kits, helping to quiet them.

“Do you think they’ll attack the camp again?” Daisy fretted.

“Whatever happens, no cat’s going to harm our kits,” Millie growled. But Jaypaw could hear fear in her mew. There was nothing she could do to help her Clanmates fighting out in the forest.

Graystripe, Whitewing, and Icepaw paced outside the barrier, guarding the entrance. They were too busy listening for danger to speak. Icepaw’s fur scuffed against the forest floor from time to time, and her paws scrabbled on the fallen leaves.

She must be practicing battle moves.

Inside the hollow, Brightheart restlessly circled the camp.

Occasionally she stopped, and Jaypaw guessed she was scanning the ledges along the steep rock walls in case any WindClan warriors were trying to sneak down in a stealth attack. Jaypaw trusted her senses; her one eye made her hearing and sense of smell almost as good as his own. No cat could steal past her. And even if they did, Cinderpaw was prowling the clearing, every hair on her pelt bristling.

“Are you sure your leg’s okay?” Jaypaw was worried she’d been pacing on it too long.

“It’s much stronger with all the swimming,” Cinderpaw promised.

“Just rest awhile,” Jaypaw advised.

“I’ll rest on Highledge.”

Jaypaw wondered whether to stop her from struggling up the tumble of rocks, but there was such determination in her voice that it seemed pointless to argue. Leafpool’s memory of the badger flashed in his mind, part of his own memories now—black-and-white fur crashing through bramble walls, snapping jaws, the stench of blood, kits mewling in terror.

Cinderpelt had died to protect them. Was Cinderpaw’s mind echoing with that memory now? If it was, then nothing he could say would stop her from guarding the kits.

He listened to her scrabbling up to Highledge, praying her leg wouldn’t slip on the loose rocks, relieved when she mounted the ledge and settled at the mouth of Firestar’s cave.

Leafpool was in her den, sifting through leaves and sorting herbs. Jaypaw could smell their pungent aromas mingle as she mixed poultices and ointments, ready for the wounded.

“We’ve got everything covered,” Jaypaw comforted Ferncloud. “ThunderClan won’t be taken as easily as Onestar thinks.”

Ferncloud shifted on her paws. “Now tell me what you really think.”

“What do you mean?” It wasn’t like Ferncloud to be skeptical.

“It’s your duty to encourage your Clanmates, but what has StarClan told you about this battle?”

Jaypaw shook his head. How could he tell her that they’d had no warning? Yet he wouldn’t lie to defend his ancestors.

Why had they let ThunderClan down? “StarClan didn’t tell us anything,” he murmured.

“Nothing at all?”

“No.”

Ferncloud huddled into a tighter crouch, her whiskers trembling.

Were StarClan as surprised as ThunderClan by this attack?

Or were they simply on WindClan’s side?

Brambles swished.

“How did Cinderpaw get up there?” Leafpool’s mew was taut with worry.

“She climbed up,” Jaypaw replied.

Leafpool bristled.

“I told her to rest her leg,” Jaypaw explained. “It was the only place she would settle.” Hadn’t he proved already that he knew what was best for Cinderpaw? Why couldn’t Leafpool believe that Cinderpaw’s leg was healing?

Leafpool called up to Cinderpaw, “Don’t try to climb down without help!”

“I don’t need help!” Cinderpaw mewed. “My leg’s fine!”

“She’s smart enough to be careful,” Jaypaw pointed out.

“She’s worked hard to recover, and she knows better than both of us what she can and can’t manage.” He pressed on. “Don’t forget that she wants to become a warrior. She’s not going to do anything that will threaten that.”

Leafpool didn’t reply.

“Just trust her,” Jaypaw urged. And trust me!

Leafpool sighed. “Can you tell what’s going on in the forest?”