Path Of A Warrior

Tawnypelt growled softly. There was only one possible meaning in Shadowkit’s vision—why was every cat debating it?

“Was there something you wanted to say, Tawnypelt?” Tigerstar looked at her, sounding annoyed.

“Yes!” Tawnypelt replied. “It’s clear that Shadowkit is dreaming of the Tribe. Why won’t any cat in this Clan listen to me? I’m the deputy, and I’ve been part of ShadowClan longer than almost any of you!”

Scorchfur huffed, a small, sarcastic sound.

“What?” Tawnypelt asked, whirling to face him.

“You were more loyal to Rowanclaw than to ShadowClan,” Scorchfur said, just as fiercely. “Always. You stuck by his decisions when the Clan was torn between him and Darktail. Everything fell apart then, and you didn’t raise a paw to stop it. Maybe that’s why some of the cats here don’t want to listen to you. The ShadowClan you tried to hold on to didn’t work! We need to forget it!”

Tawnypelt gasped, feeling as breathless as if Scorchfur had just kicked her in the stomach. “I—I did everything I could for ShadowClan,” she gasped. “And so did Rowanclaw.”

All around the clearing, cats leaped to their feet, hissing and growling.

“It was the Clan who turned on Rowanclaw, not the other way around,” Oakfur, one of the elders, hissed at Scorchfur.

“We lost ShadowClan because Rowanclaw wasn’t strong enough to stand up to the rogues,” Strikestone snarled. “Things have to be different now if we’re going to survive.”

Cats were glaring into each other’s faces, less than a whisker’s length apart, looking as if they were only a heartbeat from attacking one another. The younger apprentices and the outsider cats who Tigerstar had brought with him from his journey were hanging back, wide-eyed, clearly unsure what to do about their suddenly hostile Clanmates.

“Quiet!” Tigerstar yowled, his voice rising above the chaos. Silence fell over the clearing.

Tigerstar looked around. “This is unacceptable,” he meowed coldly. “I am the leader of this Clan, and I’ve chosen Tawnypelt as my deputy. She will be respected.” His eyes traveled from one cat to another, and many dropped their gazes, their faces sullen.

Tawnypelt felt cold inside. So many of the cats resented her, resented Rowanclaw. She didn’t want to think about what Scorchfur had said: that the old ShadowClan, her ShadowClan, should be forgotten.

Rowanclaw, Dawnpelt, Flametail—all the lost cats of ShadowClan, forgotten.

Maybe I don’t belong in ShadowClan anymore.

“I’ll let you talk this over,” she murmured to Dovewing. “Just … I’ll be in the forest.”

The pale leaf-bare sun had begun to drop low in the sky by the time Puddleshine returned, leading Leafpool into the clearing. Tawnypelt watched from above, high in the branches of a pine tree overlooking the camp, as Dovewing, followed by Tigerstar, hurried forward to greet the ThunderClan medicine cat, relief clear on her face.

She looks happier, just from seeing Leafpool, Tawnypelt thought, scrambling down the rough-barked trunk as the four cats disappeared into the medicine-cat den. She remembered how hard it had been at first, leaving ThunderClan—including her littermate, Brambleclaw, who she’d missed desperately—and trying to find her place in the Clan she’d chosen. With a flick of her ears, Tawnypelt shook the thought away as she leaped lightly to the ground.

She waited patiently until the two medicine cats emerged from the den, Dovewing and Tigerstar close behind them.

“What do you think?” she asked, stepping forward and nodding a polite greeting to Leafpool.

The brown tabby medicine cat looked troubled. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said. “I believe you all when you say the kit has a connection to StarClan. But why would it make him shake and flail and lose consciousness?”

Puddleshine nodded in agreement, looking helplessly at Tigerstar and Dovewing. “I can’t find anything wrong with him. He doesn’t have a fever; he’s not sick to his stomach; nothing is swollen or broken.”

“So either he’s sick with something we’ve never seen before, or he’s being sent a message from StarClan that’s so strong it’s sending him into fits,” Leafpool suggested. “If that’s the answer, what does the vision mean?”

“Did Shadowkit describe his vision to you?” Tawnypelt asked. “The tree, and the river, and the waterfall?”

“He did,” Leafpool agreed. “But I’m not sure what it means.”

“How much do you remember of where the Tribe of Rushing Water lives?” Tawnypelt asked, watching Leafpool carefully. Leafpool had seen the Tribe’s home when the Clans had traveled from the forest to the lake, before Tigerstar or Dovewing had been born. She hadn’t spent as long there as either Tawnypelt or Dovewing had, but she must remember.

Understanding dawned in Leafpool’s eyes. “It could be,” she agreed. “There’s the cave behind the waterfall there, and plenty of cats with a connection to the Clans. But there’s no way to be sure.”