Path Of A Warrior

I was so young the last time I was here, Tawnypelt thought. She and Rowanclaw hadn’t become mates yet; she had barely become a warrior. She and her companions had shared a single focus: finding the Clans a new home. It was frightening then, but it’s good to look back on. Our whole lives were ahead of us.

Around the edges of the cave, small groups of cats chatted or shared tongues. They quieted as the Clan cats followed the cave-guards into the cave, some standing to get a better look at them. Shadowkit looked around curiously, his eyes bright.

“Dovewing? Tawnypelt?” A long-legged gray tom hurried toward them, his tail twitching excitedly. “It’s been a long time.”

“Crag!” Tawnypelt cried. “I mean, Stoneteller.” She had heard that Crag Where Eagles Nest was now the Teller of the Pointed Stones. But it was hard to believe that the earnest young cave-guard she had met on her first visit was now the Tribe’s leader and healer, their link to the ancestors who guided them, the Tribe of Endless Hunting.

“It is good to see you both, and to meet this fine kit,” Stoneteller mewed warmly after Dovewing had introduced Shadowkit. “But what brings you here?”

Dovewing’s gaze was earnest. “Stoneteller, my son had a vision that we think concerns your Tribe. You need to know what he saw, and we hope that you can help him, too.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Tawnypelt saw that the eyes of the Tribe were fixed on them. “Can we talk in private?” she asked, dropping her voice.

“Of course. Follow me.” Stoneteller turned, heading for a narrow tunnel entrance in the side of the cave.

Inside the next cave, Shadowkit gazed around in wonder, staring at the pale pointed stones that grew up from the floor or down from the ceiling, some meeting in the middle to form what looked like thin, twisted trees. Sunlight fell from a crack high in the cave’s roof, throwing long shadows across the floor and glinting off the small pools of water that lay here and there between the stones.

“What is this place?” Shadowkit asked, his eyes wide. He stepped out from between Tawnypelt and Dovewing for the first time, wandering forward to look up at the rocky ceiling and tentatively dabble a paw in a cool puddle of water.

“This is the Cave of Pointed Stones,” Stoneteller explained calmly. “I read the signs of nature here. The fall of a cobweb, the sound of a bird’s cry, and the glimmer of moonlight on water all have meaning. In this way, I can understand the guidance of our ancestors, the Tribe of Endless Hunting.”

Shadowkit’s ears perked. “So you’re like a medicine cat?”

“Sort of,” Dovewing told him. “Stoneteller is the healer for the Tribe and he speaks to their ancestors, but he’s also the leader who tells everyone what to do, like Tigerstar does.”

“Wow!” The kit looked at Stoneteller with respect. “That’s a big job!”

Tawnypelt and Dovewing both purred with amusement. Stoneteller brushed his tail across the kit’s back. “I can tell you’re a smart kit,” he said. He looked at Dovewing. “He’s got a strong spirit, despite his small size.”

“I’m going to be a medicine cat,” Shadowkit said calmly. “StarClan lets me see things that other cats can’t.”

Stoneteller sat down near the largest puddle, his eyes thoughtful. “Is this why you’ve come?” he asked.

Dovewing and Tawnypelt looked at each other. “Like Dovewing said, Shadowkit has been having visions we think are about your Tribe,” Tawnypelt began.

“They are, I’m sure of it,” Shadowkit broke in. “The waterfall looks just like in my vision.” He looked up at Stoneteller appealingly. “There was a huge, huge tree. And it came right over the waterfall and part of it went into the cave and hurt cats. You have to protect them.”

Stoneteller looked worried. “Did your vision give you any clues about when this will happen?” Shadowkit shook his head, and Stoneteller went on. “I believe that you saw this, but there are no big trees near the waterfall that could fall like that. It’s mostly scraggly thorn trees and bushes so high on the mountain. And I can’t tell the Tribe to leave the cave during frozen-water, not without knowing for how long. It’s too dangerous and cold without our cave’s protection.”

Shadowkit nodded. “When I have the vision again, I will try to find out,” he mewed earnestly.

Tawnypelt’s stomach lurched. She didn’t want to think about Shadowkit having that vision again. She remembered how he had thrashed and wailed, clearly in pain. “Since Shadowkit’s vision is of the Tribe,” she added, “we hoped that meant you would be able to help him, too.”

“He …” Dovewing hesitated, and Tawnypelt could tell she was trying to think of a way of describing Shadowkit’s fits without letting the kit know how worried they were about him. “Shadowkit says the visions make his head hurt—don’t they, Shadowkit? And then his body shakes and he falls down.”