Fading Echoes

Chapter 18

Dovepaw didn’t want to go back to the hollow. Her fur was fluffed with anger. She wasn’t a spy and she wasn’t going to let any cat make her become one! That couldn’t be what the prophecy meant!

She raced through the trees, swerving around bushes and charging through ferns. She didn’t care if she was frightening off prey. With her powers, she could always find more. There was nowhere it could hide from her.

Fury surged through her muscles, driving her harder. Thanks to her power she could take care of everything.

Find prey, Dovepaw!

Save us from the beavers, Dovepaw!

Spy on every cat around the lake. Oh, and while you’re at it, you may as well spy on your own Clanmates.

Yeah, right! Her mind fizzed. Why don’t you spy on your Clanmates? She imagined Lionblaze’s and Jayfeather’s expressions as she told them what she really thought. Oh, that’s right. You want to have friends! I suppose I don’t need friends. I suppose it’s okay if my sister doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.

Resentment burned in her belly.

Her ears pricked up. Leaves were rustling. Bushes swished. The border patrol was nearby. Had she run that far already? She skidded to a halt and sniffed. She was almost on the ShadowClan border. She should have noticed the thickening brambles. She glanced around anxiously. How would she explain being so far from the rest of her patrol?

The ground sloped up beside her. She could hear Ivypaw’s patrol just beyond the rise.

“See anything?” Brackenfur called.

“No tufts of fur,” Ivypaw reported.

Dovepaw ducked into a bramble thicket.

“How fresh are the markers?” Whitewing prompted. Ivypaw scooted over the top of the rise and sniffed at a trunk. Dovepaw watched her sister wrinkle her nose.

“Scented a few days ago, and then again last night by the smell of it,” Ivypaw answered.

Dovepaw felt a rush of pride. Her sister was going to make a brilliant warrior. Everyone would think she was great.

Unlike me.

Dovepaw sighed. Every cat in the Clan would turn against her if they knew that she was supposed to be using a secret power to test their loyalty. A true warrior trusts her Clanmates!

Brackenfur, Bumblestripe, and Whitewing had appeared over the rise now. They were checking every tree and bush. Dovepaw scooted farther into the bramble, gritting her teeth as the barbs scraped her pelt. Brackenfur was padding nearer.

Mouse dung!

She wriggled deeper into the brambles as Brackenfur began sniffing at the edge. Then, in desperation, she scrambled up one of the thick stems. Biting her tongue against the pain of the thorns, she squirmed to the top of the bush and wormed her way along it. Prickers tore her pelt and scratched her muzzle. Wincing, she peered through the tangle of stems and saw Brackenfur following a scent the other way. He must be ignoring ThunderClan scents in his hunt for traces of ShadowClan. She felt a wave of relief and struggled on through the prickers and scrabbled down the far side, the bramble thicket a perfect barrier between her and her Clanmates.

Her paws slid on the smooth needles covering the ground.

Oh, StarClan!

She sniffed the air.

She’d dropped down into ShadowClan territory.

She glanced along the thicket. If she nipped around the far side she could be back in ThunderClan territory without leaving a trace. Keeping low, she slid along the edge of the bush.

“Hello!”

Tigerheart!

Heart thumping, she spun around to greet the ShadowClan warrior. “Sorry! I didn’t mean…I mean, I wasn’t planning…”

Tigerheart shrugged. “It’s okay. I trust you. We’re friends, right?”

Dovepaw felt her ears burn. “I guess.”

Tigerheart’s sleek tabby pelt shone in the light rippling through the pines. He padded toward her and touched her muzzle with his. “It’s nice to see you,” he meowed. He sat down and licked a paw before running it along his whiskers. “I’ve missed talking to you since the quest.”

“Me too.” Dovepaw felt her fur flatten. Once a friend, always a friend. Why should borders stop that? “I mean, there are the Gatherings,” she went on, “but it’s not the same.”

“I know what you mean,” he agreed. He began licking his flank, smoothing a stray tuft into place. “It was fun, wasn’t it? Building nests beneath the stars and waking up each morning in a new place, but with the same familiar faces.” He sounded restless, and Dovepaw wondered if he was frustrated at being confined to his territory.

“I tried to visit Sedgewhisker, you know.”

“You did?” Tigerheart looked up from his washing. “How is she?”

“She was bitten by a dog, but nothing serious.”