Path Of A Warrior

Tawnypelt shivered, the wind cutting through her fur for the first time since she’d reached the mountaintop. “I’m not sure I can,” she said, staring at her paws. “Maybe I should start over somewhere else. Stormfur is right: Things are simpler here. It’s a good life, and I think they’d welcome me.”

Rowanclaw said nothing. After a moment, Tawnypelt looked up to see him watching her with thoughtful amber eyes. He twitched a whisker, as if in disbelief, and Tawnypelt looked away again. He knew her so well.

“But my home is in ShadowClan,” she admitted.

Rowanclaw purred. “Your heart is in ShadowClan, too,” he said. “Our Clan is changing, but not all change is bad. Give yourself some time, and give Tigerstar a chance.” He stepped forward and nuzzled her cheek, his breath warm on her face. “I love you so much, Tawnypelt,” he said. “I always will. But it’s time to let me go.”

Tawnypelt closed her eyes and leaned into Rowanclaw, feeling his warm, muscular body against hers one more time. He was right, she knew it, but it was hard to step away. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Good-bye, Rowanclaw.”

“Tawnypelt! Tawnypelt!” Small paws poked at her side, and Tawnypelt jerked awake.

“Great StarClan, Shadowkit,” she said, tumbling the kit over with a playful paw. “You’re getting so strong, you almost kicked me out of the cave.” Blinking away her sleepiness, she saw that the light coming through the waterfall had changed—it was probably midmorning now.

“Sorry, Tawnypelt,” Shadowkit meowed. “I was just really excited.”

He looked happy, Tawnypelt realized. Not the focused, desperate expression he’d carried since he’d had his vision, but how a kit should look: bright eyes, shining pelt. He looked like the kit he’d been before the vision had first come. She looked up at Stoneteller and Dovewing, who were behind Shadowkit at a little distance.

“Shadowkit and I had a long discussion with our ancestors,” Stoneteller explained. “I think we’ve read their signs correctly, and they should help Shadowkit.”

“Which ancestors?” Tawnypelt asked. “StarClan or the Tribe of Endless Hunting?” StarClan watched over the Clans, and she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of Shadowkit getting advice from the Tribe’s ancestors instead.

“Both,” Stoneteller said, his whiskers twitching as if he could see into Tawnypelt’s mind and thought her view was a funny one. “Shadowkit is very unusual. His powers stretch beyond borders, beyond the world that one cat can see.”

Tawnypelt felt her ears flattening. “It hurt him to see those visions of the Tribe,” she pointed out. “And how can he be a medicine cat for ShadowClan if he’s troubled with visions that aren’t about us?”

Shadowkit cuddled against her. “I’m fine now,” he purred. “I promise.”

Stoneteller looked down at the kit, affection clear on his face. “I can’t promise visions won’t hurt him again,” he admitted. “But I think what he and I have discussed will help. He’s a good kit. A strong kit. He will do much for ShadowClan.”

“Maybe Shadowkit will help to bring all five Clans together,” Dovewing suggested quietly. “Isn’t that what StarClan wants?”

Tawnypelt twitched her tail. A cat should be loyal to one Clan. But she pressed her muzzle to the top of Shadowkit’s head. He was very special. A warm surge of love filled her. The idea that had come to her in her dream—of staying with the Tribe—was nonsense. She could never leave Shadowkit. Or Tigerstar, or his other kits, or even Dovewing.

“I believe you will show us the way to a new ShadowClan, little one,” she purred softly, and Shadowkit nodded proudly.

“I want to be the best medicine cat ever,” he declared. “I’ll try my hardest.”

There was a small commotion at the cave entrance as the hunting party returned, bearing prey. Tawnypelt sniffed the air, the scent of rabbit making her mouth water.