Path Of A Warrior

But now that pain was still in the future. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real.

Tawnypelt shivered as if she’d fallen into the lake in winter. This felt so familiar, so right, but this wasn’t ShadowClan … not anymore. Dawnpelt and Pinenose were dead. So many of her Clanmates were dead.

“It was a good hunt, then?” The voice came from behind her.

“Rowanstar!” Joy flooded through her as she turned to face her mate. He blinked his amber eyes affectionately and she stepped closer, brushing her cheek against his, breathing in his familiar scent. It felt as if it had been longer than one morning since she had seen him.

Much longer. Wait, she realized again. Something’s wrong.

She flinched, and Rowanstar’s tail twitched in concern. “What’s the matter?”

“This isn’t ShadowClan.” The words tumbled out of Tawnypelt’s mouth. She grew surer as she went on, remembering. “I mean, it is, but it’s not real ShadowClan, not as it is now. This is before the sickness, and before Darktail came… .” Her voice trailed off as Rowanstar stared at her, puzzled.

“You must have had a complicated dream last night,” he purred at last. “I told you that vole didn’t look right.”

“Are you sure?” Tawnypelt turned slowly, staring around the camp. She desperately wanted to believe him. Crowfrost, ShadowClan’s deputy, had joined Dawnpelt outside the warriors’ den. Pinenose was sharing the fat rabbit Tawnypelt had caught with Kinkfur, the crotchety elder. She could hear kits squealing happily in the nursery.

Please let this be real!

A sense of peace lay over the whole of ShadowClan’s camp. As she watched her Clanmates, Tawnypelt relaxed for the first time in a long time. She let her side press against Rowanstar’s, shoulder to shoulder with him. “This is real?” she asked hopefully.

Rowanstar’s tail brushed across her back, reassuring. “This is the only real ShadowClan.”

Tawnypelt purred. “I’m so—”

“Pouncekit! Pouncekit, wait for me!” A yowl rang across the camp. Tawnypelt opened her eyes and stared at the brambles of the warriors’ den, her heart sinking. A dream. I was right. It wasn’t real. Rowanstar was dead. So many of her Clanmates and kin were dead.

“That’s not how you play, Shadowkit!” Lightkit’s yowl grated across Tawnypelt’s nerves, shaking away the last of her dream. The light in the den was the pale pinkish glow of early dawn, but she knew she wasn’t going to fall back asleep. Climbing from her nest, she headed out of the warriors’ den. As she stepped outside, the cold of early leaf-bare sliced through her fur, and she shivered.

“Get off me, Lightkit!” Pouncekit screeched.

“Oh, that’s enough!” Juniperclaw, his black fur tousled from sleep, brushed past Tawnypelt and stormed to the center of the clearing. “You kits need to settle down right now,” he growled furiously. “You’re waking up the whole camp!”

The three kits froze, staring up at him with identical wide amber eyes, so like Rowanstar’s that Tawnypelt’s heart gave a strange little throb. No, not Rowanstar. Rowanclaw. Rowanstar had given up his status as ShadowClan’s leader and become Rowanclaw again before he died. Her dream had left her confused.