Eclipse

Leafpool blinked, her whiskers trembling as she stifled a yawn. “Okay,” she agreed. “But wake me if there’s any problem.” She was looking at Squirrelflight.

Hollypaw nuzzled closer to her mother, pressing her nose against Squirrelflight’s ear as though she could make her better by wishing it so. Lionpaw’s shoulders tensed, and he dug his claws into the soft earth. If he could fight Squirrelflight’s battle for her, he knew he would win. Frustration stung his paws. This was a battle she must fight alone.

Firestar’s muzzle brushed his ear. “Shouldn’t you be resting too?”

“I’m not tired.” He stared into Firestar’s clear green gaze.

Firestar blinked first. “Come on, then. We need to decide what happens now.”

Lionpaw followed him to where Dustpelt, Ashfur, and Brambleclaw were sharing a rabbit with Cloudtail and Sandstorm.

Sandstorm looked up as they approached, and nudged a mouthful of the prey toward Firestar. “You must be hungry.”

“I’ll eat once the fresh-kill pile’s been restocked,” Firestar replied.

Sandstorm stared at him, then glanced down at the morsel she’d offered. “You need your strength as much as any cat.”

Firestar sat down, his shoulders sagging, and took the piece of rabbit. “Thank you.”

Brambleclaw was sitting uncomfortably, the thorn stab in his side clearly hurting. Lionpaw swallowed the growl rising in his throat. No other cat was going to suffer because of Heatherpaw’s betrayal! He sat down. Now they would plan revenge on WindClan and RiverClan. The cowards! Their sneaky attack wasn’t worthy of true warriors. ThunderClan would make them pay for what they’d done.

“Do you think it’ll disappear again?” Dustpelt’s tail was bushed out.

Ashfur hadn’t washed the blood from his paws yet. He scored a line in the dust with one red-stained claw. “This might just be the start.”

“We mustn’t panic,” Firestar meowed, swallowing. “We have to believe this was simply a message, nothing more.”

Is that all they’re going to talk about? The vanishing sun? Lionpaw could hardly believe his ears.

“But what if it wasn’t a message?” Dustpelt argued. “What if the sun is starting to fail?”

“It’s never failed before,” Sandstorm argued. “Why should it fail now?”

“It’s never disappeared before,” Ashfur pointed out. “But it just did.”

“Surely it must just have been StarClan’s way of warning us to stop fighting?” Brambleclaw meowed.

“Why warn us?” Dustpelt growled. “We didn’t start the battle!”

“Perhaps it was just a strange cloud that hid it,” Cloudtail reasoned. Lionpaw knew the warrior had been born in a Twoleg nest and had never really believed in StarClan.

“Where did the cloud come from?” Ashfur challenged.

“Where did it disappear to? The sky was clear.”

Cloudtail shrugged. “There must be some explanation.”

Dustpelt flicked his tail. “StarClan,” he insisted. “Who else could it be?”

What does it matter? Lionpaw’s belly churned with fury. The battle with WindClan hadn’t been won. It had to be finished once and for all if they were ever to sleep soundly in their dens. The sun didn’t matter. Enemies had to be dealt with.

He scraped the ground with his claws.

“Have you got something to say?”

Lionpaw realized that Brambleclaw was staring at him.

I’ve got plenty to say! He got to his paws. “We need to teach WindClan a lesson!” he declared. “They can’t invade us without suffering the consequences.”

Brambleclaw shook his head. “Enough blood has been spilled, Lionpaw.”

“The battle’s finished,” Firestar agreed. “We need to find out what the vanishing sun means.”

“Will Leafpool go to the Moonpool and share tongues with StarClan?” Sandstorm asked.

Firestar glanced at Squirrelflight on the far side of the clearing. “Once our wounded cats are well enough to manage without her.”

“I hope that’s soon,” Dustpelt muttered.

Ashfur’s pelt smoothed. “The sooner the better.”

Lionpaw pawed the ground. Why wait to find out if their ancestors knew the answer? This wasn’t the time for questions. This was the time for action! There was a battle to be fought. A betrayal to avenge. “Why can’t we just—”

He stopped.

He’d interrupted Sandstorm. She was staring at him with her mouth open.

“Sorry.” Lionpaw backed away, suddenly conscious that he was only an apprentice.

“Perhaps you should rest,” Firestar suggested gently.

Lionpaw nodded and turned away, leaving the circle of warriors to fret and worry without his interruptions. He kicked sand out behind him with every paw step. One day they’d listen to him.

Hollypaw and Squirrelflight were sleeping. He stopped beside them, watching their flanks rise and fall together as though they shared a single breath. Jaypaw had gone. The ferns beside Squirrelflight were crumpled where he’d slept.

As though summoned by Lionpaw’s thoughts, Jaypaw emerged from the medicine cat’s den. He was carrying dripping moss. Lionpaw watched him pick his way from the den to his mother’s side and press the wet moss to Squirrelflight’s lips.

“Will she live?” Lionpaw whispered.