Cloudstar’s Journey

Chapter 4

Cloudstar’s spine was throbbing as he stumbled into the clearing and let Mintpaw slide to the ground. Tansypaw and Snailpaw collapsed beside her, their fur full of debris and their eyes round with horror.

“What in the name of StarClan has happened?” gasped Mousefang, running over to Snailpaw and sniffing at her apprentice’s fur in disbelief.

“The forest is being crushed!” Snailpaw whimpered. “A monster knocked down the tree we were in!”

“Oh my whiskers, you could have been killed!” Mousefang yowled. “Fawnstep! Come quickly!”

The medicine cat trotted out of her den, her nostrils flaring as she smelled the fear and scent of broken branches. She raced over to Mintpaw and gently rolled the apprentice onto her side. “Mintpaw, can you hear me?”

By now the clearing was filling with cats, wide-eyed and murmuring in hushed tones. Fernpelt hurtled out of the warriors’ den and stared in horror at the cats lying on the ground. “My kits! What have you done to them?” She glared accusingly at Cloudstar.

He shook a piece of twig from his fur and faced his Clanmate. “The Twolegs and their monsters have invaded our territory,” he reported, feeling his heart wrench with each word. I have to be strong. My Clan needs me more than it ever has before. I can’t let them see how scared I am. “The apprentices and I were in a tree when it was pushed over by one of the yellow monsters.”

Fernpelt let out a faint shriek. The brambles crackled and Buzzardtail emerged, followed by the rest of his hunting patrol. They were dragging a small squirrel, but nothing more. Buzzardtail took one look at the cats lying on the ground and ran to the side of his mate. “Fernpelt, what’s going on?”

“They were in a tree!” she whimpered. “They almost got killed!”

Buzzardtail looked at Cloudstar. Cloudstar nodded. “I was with them,” he mewed. “StarClan saved us, for sure.”

The deputy turned to follow Fernpelt to the injured cats, but paused for a moment. “We’ve lost that border, haven’t we?” he mewed quietly to Cloudstar.

“Yes. I’ll take a patrol at nightfall to assess the damage. Will you come with me?”

Buzzardtail twitched his ears. “Of course.” As he padded over to join Fernpelt, Quailheart brushed past him with a mouthful of herbs from Fawnstep’s den.

“I’ve brought comfrey, marigold, and poppy seeds,” she reported, placing the bundle at Fawnstep’s paws.

The medicine cat looked up from Mintpaw’s unmoving body. “I can’t find any broken bones or wounds. I think she’s just stunned. Get someone to help you take her into my den, and sit with her until I’ve treated the others.”

“I’ll carry her,” meowed Buzzardtail. He crouched down and Quailheart heaved the small gray cat onto his shoulders. The deputy straightened up and walked slowly to the medicine cat’s den with Quailheart on his heels.

“Tansypaw is bleeding!” wailed Fernpelt, who was examining her daughter’s cream pelt.

“Okay, I have cobweb and marigold for that,” Fawnstep mewed calmly. “Snailpaw, what are your injuries?”

The apprentice sniffed at his pelt. “I feel like the tree fell right on top of me,” he complained. “But I don’t see any blood.”

Fawnstep began applying a mixture of marigold and comfrey to the cut on Tansypaw’s hind leg. “Can you move all your legs? Any numbness?” Fawnstep called across to Snailpaw.

The apprentice stretched each leg in turn with a slight wince, then shook his head. “Good,” mewed Fernpelt. “Eat half a poppy seed and get some rest. The poppy will help you sleep, but be prepared for the bruises to feel even worse tomorrow.”

“And what about you?” mewed a soft voice in Cloudstar’s ear. “Are you hurt?”

He turned and looked into Birdflight’s troubled blue eyes. “I ache all over,” he admitted. “But I don’t need any herbs.”

Birdflight blinked. “Fernpelt’s right. You could have died.”

“There are always dangers in the forest,” Cloudstar pointed out.

“Not like this! Not inside our territory!” Birdflight gazed at him. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Cloudstar admitted. “It’s bad.”

“Should we prepare to leave?” asked Nightfur, padding over with his apprentice, Oakpaw, beside him.

“And go where?” Mousefang demanded. “Twolegplace? Across the river? RiverClan might have something to say about that.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Cloudstar declared, drawing in a painful breath as he raised his voice. Around him, his Clanmates fell silent and stared at him. “We are safe here. Tomorrow we will assess how far the Twolegs have invaded, and set new border marks. This is our home.”

“But we don’t know how far the Twolegs will come!” blurted Hazelwing. “My kits are far too small to survive falling trees!”

“No, we’re not,” Hatchkit insisted. “I’ll chase those Twolegs off if they come anywhere near us! Grrrr!”

“We don’t stand a chance against the yellow monsters,” Rainleap put in. “SkyClan is going to be destroyed!”

“Never say that!” Cloudstar snarled. “As your leader, I will give my last breath to keep you safe. I promise the Twolegs will not harm a hair on our pelts or touch one branch of our homes. StarClan is watching over us—how else would we have escaped the falling tree today? They know that this is our home, and they will protect it.”

“Are you sure?” meowed Stoatfur. He was standing beside Tansypaw, keeping his apprentice still while the poultice on her wounds dried. “Did you see them fighting the Twolegs and their yellow monsters? Did they catch you as the tree fell?”

“That’s not the way StarClan works, and you know it,” Cloudstar replied, forcing his fur to stay flat. “We must have faith.”

“And we must have faith in Cloudstar, too,” rasped a frail voice from the edge of the clearing. A rose-cream she-cat with dark green eyes stood trembling at the entrance to the elders’ den. “He has led us well until now, and we should listen to him.”

“Thank you, Petalfall,” Cloudstar meowed, dipping his head. “You need to get some rest. One of the apprentices will bring you something to eat.”

The elderly cat turned to go back into her den. “Ah, don’t trouble the young ones with chasing after me,” she grunted. “Let them feed the rest of the Clan first. Toothless old badgers like me don’t deserve the pick of the fresh-kill pile.”

In three strides, Cloudstar had crossed the clearing and was standing close to Petalfall. “Never let me hear you talk like that!” he hissed quietly. “You served your Clan as well as any cat here—in fact, better than most.” If you hadn’t started suffering with the falling sickness, you would be leader in my place. You know that as well as I do. Before the previous leader, Flystar, had lost his ninth life, his deputy Petalfall had been forced to retire to the elders’ den after suffering a number of alarming fits, when she lost consciousness for a while and trembled on the ground like a wind-tossed leaf. Fawnstep seemed to keep the fits at bay with tiny doses of poppy seed, but the she-cat was far frailer than she should have been, and rarely ventured out of the camp now.

“Petalfall, are you refusing to eat again?” called a voice from inside the elders’ den. It was Starlingfeather. There was a rustling sound and the dark brown tom stuck his head out of the branches. “I heard what happened by the border,” he meowed to Cloudstar. He turned to Petalfall. “Sounds like Cloudstar has enough to sort out without you making a fuss about food,” he snorted. “Now get in here and stop distracting him.” The old tom’s tone was curt, but Cloudstar noticed the way he gently laid his tail across Petalfall’s shoulders to steer her back to her nest.

Slowly the clearing emptied, with Birdflight helping Hazelwing round up the thoroughly overexcited kits and herd them back to the nursery. Cloudstar and Buzzardtail were left alone. Shadows gathered beneath the trees, and above them the purple sky was starting to show claw-pricks of starlight.

“When do you want to go to the border?” Buzzardtail asked.

Cloudstar tilted his head and listened for a moment. The forest was quiet now, and the earth beneath his feet was still. The Twolegs and the yellow monsters had stopped whatever they were doing. “Let’s round up a patrol right away,” Cloudstar suggested. “The sooner we’re back, the longer we’ll all have to rest before dawn.”

Accompanied by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of a lonely owl, Cloudstar led his warriors along one of their familiar hunting paths. His paws rang softly on the packed earth, and his breath clouded around his muzzle. Oh my precious home. I grieve for the wounds that have been done to you. I promise I will never leave you, not until it is time for me to walk in StarClan.

Cloudstar’s thoughts were jerked back to the present by a stifled curse from behind him.

“Great StarClan, what is that?” Weaselwhisker had stopped dead and was staring at the heap of splintered branches and fast-wilting leaves that blocked the path in front of them.

“Is that the tree you were in?” gasped Mousefang.

Cloudstar looked at the leaves. This was an oak, not a sycamore. “No,” he mewed. “Our tree is closer to the border.”

“Then they’ve come even farther than you thought,” Buzzardtail meowed. “How can we possibly tell our Clanmates that the camp is safe?” His voice rose with thinly veiled panic.

Cloudstar sank his claws into the damp earth. “There is no reason for the Twolegs to destroy our forest! We have lived here unchallenged for countless moons. StarClan has given me no warning that anything will change, so we have no option but to set new border marks and carry on as we always have done.” To make his point, he walked up to the crumpled branches and left his scent mark defiantly on the withered leaves.

“And you think the Twolegs will take notice of that, do you?” muttered Weaselwhisker. His brown-and-ginger pelt looked gray in the half-light.

“What else can we do?” Cloudstar retorted, trying to sound strong rather than bleak with despair. “The warrior code tells us to mark our borders daily. From now on, this is our border.”

“And if the Twolegs leave the fallen trees alone, we can still hunt as far as the old border,” Mousefang put in.

“Hunting what? Tasty morsels like this?” Stoatfur asked, flicking a squashed and shriveled worm toward his Clanmate. There were several littered on the path around them. “Even they’ve had the good sense to try to escape.”

“This is our home,” Cloudstar insisted through gritted teeth. “SkyClan will survive as it always has, by the skill of its hunting and the courage to adapt to a changed territory.” He lifted his head and stared at each of his warriors in turn. “Anything else will be considered a direct challenge to my leadership, and to the warrior code.”

One by one, the cats nodded.

“Stay strong,” Cloudstar urged them. “Have faith in our ancestors, and in the home they chose for us. We have a right to be here, more than the Twolegs and their monsters.”

Buzzardtail looked away, and Cloudstar heard him murmur, “I don’t think the Twolegs live by our code.”

“Go back to the camp and get some rest,” Cloudstar ordered. “I’ll stay here tonight to keep watch. From now on, one of us will be on guard at this border every night. We will not leave our territory unprotected for a moment.” As he watched his warriors file away into the trees, Cloudstar felt a pain deep in his chest that had nothing to do with his fall in the tree. May StarClan go with you, my precious Clanmates, he prayed silently. And may our ancestors keep you safe where I cannot.