Cloudstar’s Journey

Chapter 9

“Clanmates, we lost.”

Cloudstar dragged his aching paws into the clearing. Every scratch on his pelt burned like fire, and his paws were numb from leaping onto the hard, dusty ground. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

Birdflight trotted up to him, her eyes dark with horror. “You…you lost? But you said we had to win this battle!”

“Yes, we had to. But we didn’t!” Cloudstar snapped. He saw Birdflight flinch, and he softened his tone. “I’m sorry. You’re right, we should have won. We need that piece of territory to feed us.”

Buzzardtail squeezed under the brambles, one eye closed and swollen, his pelt sticky with blood. “Go straight to Fawnstep,” Cloudstar ordered.

All around the clearing, queens and elders huddled around the returning warriors. They spoke so quietly, Cloudstar could hear a thrush warbling somewhere in the territory. Brave, foolish bird, he thought. If you stay here, you’ll be prey tomorrow. There were so few birds left, he wondered if he should send a warrior now to catch it. But every cat fit enough to hunt had fought in the battle, and all had come back with injuries, from ripped ears to Mousefang’s broken leg.

Cloudstar wondered if StarClan had watched their humiliating defeat. It certainly hadn’t felt as if any of SkyClan’s warrior ancestors were on their side.

“You need to get that cut on your flank seen to,” Birdflight told him.

“Not yet,” Cloudstar replied. “I must speak to the Clan first, tell them that we’re not giving up after one defeat.”

He clawed his way up to the branch in the gnarled thorn tree. The branch seemed higher than usual, and his hind leg exploded with pain when he tried to push himself up. Cloudstar hauled himself up with his front paws instead and balanced on the swaying twigs. Once he could stare into the trees from here and only guess where his territory ended. Now the half-built Twoleg nests loomed beyond the thin screen of branches, red and hard and threatening.

A cough below him brought his attention back to the cats below. The cats who had fought alongside him looked empty and battered beyond recovery; the only signs of hope were in the eyes of the cats who had stayed behind.

“Cats of SkyClan!” Cloudstar raised his voice, trying to sound like a leader his cats could have faith in to save their Clan. “The reason we lost today is that ThunderClan fought harder and better. They wanted victory more than us.”

There were a few looks of surprise from his exhausted warriors, but others nodded and twitched their tails as if they were feeling guilty for letting their Clanmates down. Something stabbed deep inside Cloudstar’s heart. He knew his warriors had given everything they could, but they were outnumbered, hungry, and exhausted from too many fruitless hunting patrols.

“I don’t blame any of you. All I ask is that you look at what you did today and see if you could have done any more. If the answer is yes, then there will be other battles, other chances to prove what it means to be a SkyClan warrior.”

The cats below stirred, lifting their heads as if already contemplating future clashes with their neighbors. Cloudstar winced at their defiance. I can’t bear the thought of making you fight again, yet we will have to. I’m so sorry.

He finished: “SkyClan will take back what is rightfully ours. We will seize that territory from those ThunderClan thieves!”

There were a few thin cheers. Cloudstar let out a sigh. His cats were so brave, so loyal. He could ask for no better warriors; but could they ask for a better leader? He jumped carefully down from the thorn tree and limped to Fawnstep’s den. He needed cobwebs and something to ease his bruises—but not poppy seed. He had to stay awake tonight and figure out a better way to attack ThunderClan, a different strategy that would give his warriors the best—perhaps the only—chance of winning.

“Cloudstar! Cloudstar, wake up!”

A wet muzzle was thrust into Cloudstar’s ear. Grunting, he swatted it aside and sat up. Through the branches of his den, he could see the sky turning milky with dawn, but it was dark enough that the stars still glittered overhead. Are you still watching, StarClan? Any words of wisdom now?

“Cloudstar, I have to talk to you!”

“What is it?” Cloudstar demanded, recognizing Fawnstep’s grassy scent. “Is Birdflight having her kits?” He jumped up, wide awake. “Is she all right? Do you need me to fetch herbs?”

“Sit down,” hissed Fawnstep, “or you’ll wake every cat in the Clan. Birdflight is fine. Her kits will be here in the next quarter moon, but not tonight. She’s sleeping peacefully in the nursery.” She shuffled farther into the den and sat down. Her pale brown fur was just visible against the leaves, and her eyes gleamed when she turned her head toward him.

“I’ve had a dream,” she began. Her voice was higher pitched than usual, and Cloudstar recognized another scent beneath the herb-dust clinging to her pelt: fear.

“I’m sure StarClan was showing me the future. Not far off—Birdflight was there with your kits, and they were still very small—”

“But strong?” Cloudstar interrupted. “There’s nothing wrong with them, is there?”

Fawnstep shook her head. “No, your kits looked…healthy.” She took a deep breath. “SkyClan was leaving the forest. We were at a Gathering, all of us. We…we had asked to stay, but the other Clans refused. We couldn’t stay here any longer.”

“What? That’s absurd!” Cloudstar lashed his tail. “It’s not up to the other Clans whether we stay here or not. This is our territory!”

Fawnstep gazed at him, and Cloudstar winced at the sorrow in her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she meowed gently. “There was no territory left. Not for us. The Twolegs had taken it all, and we had nowhere else to go.”

Cloudstar stared at her in dismay. Was this really how it was going to end, with SkyClan hounded out of their home like a fox?

Fawnstep rested her tail on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cloudstar. You should not have lost that battle. It is a defeat that we cannot survive.”