Path Of A Warrior

What if we waited too long to listen to Shadowkit? We should have been here sooner… .

Have we done enough?

Chapter Eight

The tree hurtled toward them, its branches spread so wide that they scraped along both sides of the riverbank. Flinching, Tawnypelt crouched low and squeezed her eyes shut.

Please, please, she begged StarClan, help the Tribe save their cave.

There was a horrible cracking noise, and Tawnypelt’s eyes shot open. The tree was huge, as big as one of the oaks back in the woods by the lake, and it dangled half over the drop to the waterfall. Its branches creaked and the tree shifted from one side to the other as the current pulled it, but it had caught on the rocks.

“It worked … ,” Bird mewed, sounding stunned.

“Shadowkit’s vision has saved us,” Stoneteller added solemnly.

As one, the Tribe turned toward Shadowkit, their eyes shining with wonder.

“Thank you so much, Shadowkit,” Snow purred, and the other cats began to chime in with their own gratitude. Tawnypelt felt warm with pride.

Shadowkit, suddenly shy, looked around at the cheering cats and opened his mouth as if to speak. Then he wobbled and fell, his small legs folding beneath him.

Oh, no. Tawnypelt hurried toward the unconscious kit, but Dovewing reached him first. She bent to nose at his still form and then looked up at Tawnypelt.

“He’s passed out again,” she cried, her voice desperate. “Why does this keep happening?”

Tawnypelt looked down at Shadowkit’s still form. He was breathing steadily, his eyes closed. “I don’t know,” she said. “I thought things would be better, once his vision came true.”

Stoneteller joined them, brushing his tail comfortingly along Dovewing’s back. “He’s done what he needed to do,” he said. “It only makes sense that his body needs rest. He’s been pushing himself hard.”

“He’s only a kit,” Dovewing yowled helplessly.

“It’s rare for such a young kit to have such strong powers,” Stoneteller agreed. “He will wake before long, I am sure.”

Tawnypelt gently nosed Shadowkit’s shoulder. Rain was running thorough his fur. Poor kit, she thought. What Stoneteller said was true: Shadowkit was so young to have such a powerful connection to StarClan. She had never heard of a cat having visions like this at such a young age. StarClan’s given him a heavy burden.

“We’ve done what the Tribe of Endless Hunting wanted of us,” Stoneteller said to the gathered cats. “Now let’s get out of this storm.”

As the kit-mothers of the Tribe helped their kits to scramble back up onto their backs, Dovewing bent and gently picked up Shadowkit by his scruff.

“I’ll go in front in case you slip,” Tawnypelt said.

The climb down was less strenuous, but they all moved slowly over the slippery rocks, nose to tail as before. Tawnypelt placed her paws carefully. With a sigh of relief, she finally reached the pool outside the cave and turned back in time to watch Dovewing safely arrive in the clearing as well, Shadowkit still unconscious.

A strange cracking noise and the rumble of shifting rocks came from above. Up near the top of the path, Lark turned to look behind her. “The tree is moving!” she howled, her face twisted with horror.

The cats already in the clearing below stared up, terrified.

“If it falls now, it’ll kill us all,” Night said.

“We haven’t stopped it,” Moss said. “We need to climb back up and get out of the way!”

The cats already behind the waterfall froze, unsure what to do. Another ominous cracking sound came from above.

“There’s no time,” Brook said, her voice tight.

“Have faith,” Stoneteller said. He was standing still at the edge of the pool, gazing up the waterfall. While every other cat was panicking, his voice was calm. “The Tribe of Endless Hunting chose Shadowkit to save us. If we weren’t safe, he would be awake.”

Tawnypelt saw the Tribe cats exchanging doubtful glances. She wanted to believe that Stoneteller was right, but as she looked at Shadowkit’s limp form, she couldn’t help worrying.

Did we bring Shadowkit here just to get him, and us, and the Tribe killed? Maybe his visions weren’t real. Maybe he was too young to understand what StarClan and the Tribe of Endless Hunting had tried to show him.

She had believed in Shadowkit. But so many things Tawnypelt had believed in—ShadowClan, Rowanstar, my own kits—had been doomed to fail.

She could see the tips of the tree’s branches hanging over the top of the waterfall. Tawnypelt’s heart stuttered as another loud crack came from above, and a few loose branches tumbled down into the pool.