Fading Echoes

Jayfeather sensed her stiffen, like a hunted mouse. They’d always told her to keep her power secret.

“It’s okay,” Lionblaze mewed. “You can tell him.”

“Okay.” Dovepaw hesitated for a moment. “I can sense things,” she began tentatively. “Faraway things.”

“How do you sense them?” Firestar urged.

“I—I hear them, and smell them, and sort of get glimpses.”

“Do you hear everything all the time?”

“It’s all kind of there—around me, in the background.” Dovepaw fidgeted. “I’m used to it. Like…” Another pause, then, “Like you don’t see every tree around you all the time but you know they are there; you know what they look like; you can remember which is which. You can focus on one tree or, if something’s out of place or unusual, it’ll catch your eye—it’ll make you look harder.”

“I see.” There was warmth in Firestar’s mew. “Now I know why you’re so good at hunting.” The ThunderClan leader’s tail swished. “The Three have come at last.” He sounded satisfied. “I will sleep a little easier from now on. Just be careful—your powers set you apart from other cats, but you are still members of this Clan. You are still bound by the warrior code, for as long as that stands.”

Jayfeather leaned forward, heart pounding. “But we don’t know what we’re here for!”

“And there’s nothing we can do until we find out.” Firestar began to pad toward the hollow. “ThunderClan is lucky that you have come. Let’s not ask for the stars as well. Tell me if anything changes,” he meowed over his shoulder. “You will have my full support.”

The thorns rustled as the ThunderClan leader disappeared into camp.

Lionblaze breathed out slowly. “How come he never said anything before?”

Jayfeather sat down. “I guess he was just waiting until he was sure.”

“I gave us away.” Dovepaw’s mew was contrite. “I shouldn’t have gone to WindClan.”

“It might be for the best,” Jayfeather reassured her.

“Yes,” Lionblaze agreed. “And now it’ll be easier to ask for more training time away from the other apprentices.”

“But we still don’t know what we’re training for,” Dovepaw pointed out. A yawn overtook her. Jayfeather was suddenly aware of the tiredness dragging at the young cat’s paws.

He blinked at Lionblaze, but the golden warrior was already padding over to his apprentice. “Come on,” he meowed, his fur brushing hers. “Let’s get you back to your den. You’ll need some rest before tomorrow’s training.” Lionblaze paused. “Are you staying here, Jayfeather?”

“I need to think.”

Lionblaze yawned. “Can’t you think in your nest?”

“I won’t stay out long,” Jayfeather promised.

“Okay.” Lionblaze sounded too tired to argue. He followed Dovepaw through the thorn barrier, leaving Jayfeather alone under the trees.

Firestar doesn’t know any more than we do. Jayfeather sighed. He walked down to the lake, following the scent of water and wind. As he emerged from the trees, the breeze whipped his whiskers back against his cheeks.

Jayfeather pictured the lake, wide, black, and silent, hiding the stick in its depths. Why did I destroy it?

He felt pebbles beneath his paws as he neared the water’s edge. A yowl rose from his belly. “I’m sorry! Rock! I didn’t mean it!” He drew the dank night air over his tongue, trying to catch some hint of the ancient cat’s scent, but tasted nothing but dying leaves and water. Fear yawned like a dark pit in his belly. Rock knew about the prophecy long before StarClan crowded Silverpelt, and Jayfeather had broken the only link he’d had with the blind old cat.

“Oh, Rock! Please! I need to know!”

The wind blew Jayfeather’s pleas back into his face. But he knew Rock heard him, could reply if he wanted.

Angrily, Jayfeather headed along the shore to where the stream tumbled out of the forest. He padded up the bank, picking his way carefully over the tangle of roots, heading upstream into the trees. When the stream narrowed, he leaped over it, careful not to let his tail fall into the cold, chattering water.

The damp earth felt good underpaw and he broke into a trot. He focused his senses harder so that he could run among the trees, sharply aware of the space around him, his whiskers and nose mapping his course, his ear fur pricked for the muting of sound that signaled the thickening of the undergrowth ahead.

Suddenly a leaf crackled. A bitter tang spiked his nostrils.

ShadowClan!

Was he that close to the border already? He slowed and padded forward cautiously, sniffing. Border markers dotted the trees ahead. They were fresh. Had ShadowClan started night patrols? He sniffed again. The scent belonged to a single tom. Why would one cat be out scent marking by himself?

A yowl ripped the air. Unsheathed claws slammed into Jayfeather’s shoulders, thrusting him into the leafy soil. He spluttered and shoved himself upward, rage firing his muscles. He flung off his attacker, recognizing the scent.

“Tigerheart!”

It was Tawnypelt’s son.

The young ShadowClan tom scrabbled to his paws. “S-sorry!”