Fading Echoes

A growl rumbled in Graystripe’s throat. “There’s always the hope that if we treat them like true warriors they’ll start acting with honor instead of preying on weakness wherever they find it.”

“Enough!” Firestar lost patience. “We’re here to discuss the safety of ThunderClan, not ShadowClan’s honor. If Ivypaw’s dream is right, we must act.”

“Good!” Dustpelt’s claws scraped the ground.

“Jayfeather?”

He looked up.

“Have you had any warning from StarClan about ShadowClan?”

“No.” Not about ShadowClan.

“We don’t need warnings from StarClan!” rumbled Dustpelt. “We’ve had enough warnings from ShadowClan!”

“They have been crossing the border lately,” Squirrelflight agreed.

“It might be best to nip any trouble in the bud,” Sandstorm ventured.

“But how?” wondered Brightheart.

Dustpelt stood up. “Well, we gave the clearing to them. We should take it back!”

“It was ours to begin with,” Cloudtail agreed.

“And with leaf-bare coming,” Graystripe chipped in, “the extra hunting would be useful.”

Jayfeather could feel unease pulsing from Firestar’s pelt. “I don’t like to go back on my word,” he growled.

“This is ShadowClan we’re dealing with!” Thornclaw reminded him. “A warrior’s word means nothing to them.”

“And if Ivypaw’s right,” Firestar murmured, “then we risk our lives by delaying.”

Jayfeather sighed. He knew what this meant. In his head, he began to tally the herbs in his store. Was there enough marigold? It was the best medicine for gashes and bites.

“We must attack before they do,” Firestar decided.

“Now?” Dustpelt was pacing.

“Not yet,” Firestar cautioned. “I must warn them first.”

“Warn them?” Brambleclaw sounded shocked. “You’ll have lost the battle before you’ve begun it!”

“We can win any battle,” Firestar told him. “I’m going to give Blackstar a chance to surrender the clearing peacefully.”

Cloudtail spluttered with disbelief. “As if!”

“I must give him the chance,” Firestar insisted. “No blood will be spilled needlessly.” He leaped down from the bough.

Where’s Lionblaze? Jayfeather suddenly realized that his brother wasn’t in the hollow. He needed to know what was happening here. Jayfeather hurried after Firestar. “Can I go and find Lionblaze?”

“No time,” Firestar replied. “I want you to come with me.” He called to his deputy. “Brambleclaw! Let Graystripe finish organizing the patrols. I want you with us.”

Jayfeather flattened his ears. It was a huge show of trust for Firestar to visit the ShadowClan camp with his deputy and medicine cat. Especially with a proposal like this one. Foreboding swelled in his belly.

What if this was exactly what Tigerstar wanted? After all, he’d won Tigerheart over to his side. How many other ShadowClan cats had he recruited?

Brambleclaw seemed less concerned about where they were going than what they were leaving behind. “Is it wise to leave the camp so vulnerable?”

“Vulnerable?” Graystripe echoed. “Are you calling us mouse-hearts?”

There was warmth in the gray warrior’s mew. But he had a point. Even with Firestar and Brambleclaw gone, the camp would be well guarded.

But, Jayfeather wondered with a chill, what if they never came back?

Frost-hardened leaves crunched underpaw as they padded through the forest. When they approached the ShadowClan border, Firestar and Brambleclaw tasted the air. Hope prickled from their pelts. Jayfeather guessed they were looking for traces of ShadowClan this side of the scent line. Was Ivypaw’s dream enough of a reason to attack? Had it really come from StarClan?

Firestar paused at the border, then crossed it. The air was fragrant with pine, the ground soft underpaw, thick with fallen needles. Jayfeather felt his leader push away his last tremor of doubt. Brambleclaw padded at his side, determined and calm, while Jayfeather trailed behind.

“Keep up,” Brambleclaw ordered. “We’re on enemy territory.”

As he spoke Jayfeather felt alarm flare from among the trees ahead. “Patrol!” he warned.

Firestar halted. “We’ve come to speak with Blackstar!” His voice echoed through the pines.

Jayfeather recognized the scent of Toadfoot and Ratscar. Their paws scuffed the needles, wariness fizzing in their pelts.

“What do you want with him?” Ratscar growled.

“To talk,” Firestar answered.

Jayfeather pictured Toadfoot and Ratscar exchange questioning glances before Ratscar replied.

“Very well.”

Jayfeather was familiar with the twisting route to the ShadowClan camp, but he had never felt this uneasy before, this unconvinced of his reason for being there. He followed the warriors through the prickly entrance. Surprised murmurs rippled through the ShadowClan cats.

“Firestar?” Tawnypelt’s questioning mew rang across the clearing.

Ratscar was heading for his leader’s den. “He wants to speak to Blackstar,” he growled.

But Blackstar was already padding out. “Why has ThunderClan’s leader come to ShadowClan?” His mew was sharp with suspicion.

“I need to talk to you,” Firestar answered. “In private.”