Path Of A Warrior

“It makes him very tired,” Tawnypelt went on, keeping her voice as calm as Dovewing’s. We shouldn’t scare Shadowkit. She could tell from the glint of concern in Stoneteller’s eyes, though, that he realized how frightening Shadowkit’s reaction to the visions must be.

Stoneteller crouched down, his gaze level with Shadowkit’s. “I’ll have to see if I can help you with that—all right, Shadowkit?” Looking up at Dovewing and Tawnypelt, he added, “I think it’s best if I speak to Shadowkit alone for a little while.”

Dovewing hesitated, but Tawnypelt could see the trust in Shadowkit’s eyes as he gazed at Stoneteller. “It’ll be all right, Dovewing,” she murmured softly. “Come with me.”

She walked back toward the tunnel to the larger cave, and, after a moment, Dovewing followed.

There were more cats in the cave now that the sun was sinking toward the horizon. The prey-hunters and cave-guards who had been out on the mountain had returned for the night. Kits were chasing one another through the wide-open spaces of the cave, while the older cats shared tongues or chatted quietly.

Unfamiliar cats’ faces turned to watch Tawnypelt and Dovewing with interest, and the two Clan cats hesitated.

“Dovewing!” a friendly voice called, and then another.

“Is Jayfeather with you?”

“How is Lionblaze?”

Dovewing brightened. “Moss!” she called in greeting. “Sheer!”

Tawnypelt peered at the cats half-hidden by the cave’s shadows. Had it really been so long since she was here that she wouldn’t recognize any cat? She stepped closer. Among the elders, wasn’t that Bird That Rides the Wind?

“Tawnypelt!” a warm voice meowed, and a brown tabby she-cat rose gracefully to greet her.

“Brook!” Tawnypelt cried. “I’m so pleased to see you.” Beside Brook, she saw a familiar dark gray tom. “Stormfur, how are you?”

The two once-Clan cats made room for her to sit beside them. “We heard from Breeze that you two had arrived,” Stormfur explained. “I hope there’s nothing wrong back at the lake?”

“No, we had some difficulties, but things are all right now,” Tawnypelt mewed. Are they? she wondered. Yes. There is peace among the Clans, even if I’m not sure where my place is in the new ShadowClan. “Tigerheart is the leader of ShadowClan now,” she added. “He’s become Tigerstar. And he and Dovewing are mates.”

“The little kit belongs to Tigerstar and Dovewing, then? It must have been hard bringing a kit up through the mountain,” Brook commented.

“We wanted Stoneteller to have a look at him,” Tawnypelt explained. Changing the subject—their worries over Shadowkit weren’t hers to spread around—she added, “And you’ve had more than one litter of kits since I last saw you, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” said Stormfur proudly. “You met Breeze, and that’s her littermate, Feather of Flying Hawk, over there.” He gestured with his tail at a stone-gray cat practicing fighting moves with some other to-bes on the other side of the cave.

“And these are our first litter, Lark That Sings at Dawn and Pine That Clings to Rock,” Brook said.

Two cats sitting nearby broke off their conversation and dipped their heads politely to Tawnypelt.

“They were only kits the last time any cat from the Clans was here, but they’ve grown to be fine cave-guards.” Stormfur meowed.

“Like their father,” Brook added, and Stormfur purred and gave his chest fur a bashful lick.

“You seem very happy,” Tawnypelt told them both. It was true. Like the rest of the Tribe, they were a bit thinner than Clan cats, but their coats were sleek and their expressions full of warm contentment.

“We are,” Brook agreed. “Things have been good in the mountains.”

“You don’t miss the Clans?” Tawnypelt asked. Despite having lived in ThunderClan, Brook had been born in the Tribe and could be expected to be happy here. But Stormfur was a Clan cat, who had only stayed with the Tribe because of his love for Brook.

“Not really.” Stormfur wrapped his tail more comfortably around his hind paws. “It was an accident that I ever came here, but it was a lucky one. This is where I belong.”

“But they made you leave,” Tawnypelt pointed out, puzzled. The old Stoneteller had exiled Stormfur after he had led them in a disastrous battle. He and Brook had lived with ThunderClan for moons before they were finally able to return.

Stormfur shrugged. “I forgave Stoneteller for that long ago, and we were friends before he died. This place has been home in a way the Clans never were for me.”

“Why?” Tawnypelt was puzzled. “You were born in RiverClan.” As troubled as she’d felt in ShadowClan lately, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Was it possible for a cat to just … leave the place she’d always called home? And be happy somewhere else?