Cloudstar’s Journey

Chapter 8

“Weaselwhisker, you take Fernpelt, Stoatfur, and Acornpaw and hunt along the river. You might get lucky and find a vole’s nest, if you don’t mind getting your paws wet. Mousefang, your patrol can hunt—”

“Buzzardtail, wait!” Cloudstar ordered, striding out of his den. He dipped his head to the deputy, apologizing for interrupting him. “No cats will hunt today. I want all of them—warriors as well as apprentices—to do battle training.”

Buzzardtail stared at him in surprise. “But the fresh-kill pile is almost empty! With so little prey in the forest, we have to hunt as much as we can!”

“No,” meowed Cloudstar, his heart as heavy as stone. His eyes burned from his sleepless night, thrashing in his nest as he realized there was only one chance left to find enough food for his Clan. “We have to fight.”

“We can’t take on the Twolegs!” Weaselwhisker protested.

Cloudstar shook his head. “Not the Twolegs. ThunderClan. We need to take back the territory that Duskstar gave to them. Without it, we don’t have enough hunting grounds to support the Clan.”

Buzzardtail gave Cloudstar a long, thoughtful look. “Duskstar would have done the same,” he mewed quietly. “You’re not breaking the warrior code.”

Cloudstar wasn’t even sure that Duskstar—or any StarClan cats—were watching SkyClan anymore. His dreams had been empty since that night the former leaders had reassured him of how strong SkyClan was, how they would live in the forest forever.

Buzzardtail started reorganizing the patrols. The apprentices looked excited about the change in routine. “We’ve been hunting for days!” Acornpaw meowed. “I can’t wait to try the sky-drop again!”

“I want to practice the reverse branch swing,” Mintpaw mewed. “I kept falling off the branch last time, but I’m definitely strong enough to hold on now.”

The warriors were quieter, and Cloudstar wondered if they had realized how desperate he was, that he was prepared to go back on Duskstar’s word. He stood in the center of the clearing and watched the patrols vanish into the bushes. SkyClan warriors fought by leaping out of trees, swinging from branches, using height and weight to overpower their enemies. It had been moons since they had gone into battle against another Clan, beyond a mere border skirmish. Every bone in Cloudstar’s body ached at the thought of leading his Clanmates into a fight when they were weakened by hunger and sleepless from fear of what the Twolegs were doing in their territory. But he could not see any choice. They had to expand their territory somehow.

At sunrise the following day, Cloudstar gathered the Clan beneath the gnarled thorn tree. He balanced on the spindly branches at the top of the gorse bush and gazed down at them in the soft dawn light.

“Clanmates, it is time to take back what is rightfully ours. I will be at the head of the attack, with Buzzardtail behind me. You will all get the chance to fight—except for you, Snailpaw and Mintpaw.” The two apprentices let out wails of disappointment.

“But we want to fight!” Mintpaw protested. “We practiced really hard yesterday, and I only fell off the branch three times!”

“We’re not scared,” Snailpaw added, puffing out his soft brown fur.

“No cat doubts your courage,” Cloudstar promised. “But I need strong, brave cats to stay behind and guard the queens and elders. Will you two do that for me? I know Tansypaw will help you as much as she can.”

Their cream-colored littermate straightened up. She still walked with a limp where she had wrenched her shoulder, and hadn’t been able to join in with the training the day before. Cloudstar prayed that these brave young cats wouldn’t be called upon to defend their Clanmates while the others were away. But they were too small to take into battle, and he had to find some way of easing the frustration of being left behind.

Cloudstar looked at his warriors. They all looked thin and tired, their fur matted and their eyes sunk in their heads as if they were ready to join the elders. Somehow, we must find strength to fight for this territory. “Cats of SkyClan!” he declared. “Today is a glorious day! Today we have the chance to reset our border marks, to make ThunderClan realize that we will no longer tolerate their trespassing on what was SkyClan’s hunting ground long before theirs.”

“Yes!” cheered the warriors at the foot of the hazel bush. “We’ll drive out those mangy intruders and show them that SkyClan deserves to hunt here instead!”

Buzzardtail caught Cloudstar’s eye and nodded. It was time to leave. The deputy started to divide the warriors into three attack patrols, while Cloudstar jumped down from the tree. Birdflight was waiting for him. Her amber eyes were full of fear. For a moment Cloudstar was afraid she was going to tell him not to fight, to save his life for the sake of their kits.

“Even though I cannot fight alongside you,” Birdflight meowed solemnly, “I will always be with you in your heart. Let me be your courage and your strength.” She rested her muzzle against his shoulder, and Cloudstar breathed in her scent one more time.

He lifted his head to meet her gaze and whispered, “We have to win this battle. If we don’t, everything is lost.”

“Remember, I am in your heart,” she whispered back.

Cloudstar straightened up and stalked across the clearing to lead his warriors out of the camp.

“To ThunderClan!” he yowled, and raced into the brambles.

The SkyClan cats launched themselves across the ThunderClan boundary and started pushing through the undergrowth to set new border marks on the far side of the oak trees. Cloudstar and Buzzardtail had made it clear what their plan was: set new marks, resist all challenges, and let ThunderClan know that SkyClan would no longer tolerate trespassers in this part of the forest. Cloudstar’s patrol was only a few strides over the boundary when they crashed into a ThunderClan border patrol.

Startled faces whirled to look at them. “What in the name of StarClan…?” yowled the ThunderClan warrior in the lead.

“We’re being attacked!” snarled his Clanmate, unsheathing his claws.

“Trespassers!” hissed a third.

“No, you’re the trespassers!” Cloudstar growled. “This is SkyClan’s territory once more.”

The first warrior let out a yelp of amusement. “Oh, really? Prove it!” He sprang at Cloudstar, landing squarely on his tender spine and sinking his teeth into Cloudstar’s scruff.

Weaselwhisker leaped forward and hauled the ThunderClan warrior off, holding him down and pummeling him with his hind paws. Another ThunderClan jumped onto Weaselwhisker, and his brown-and-ginger pelt vanished in a flurry of fur and kicked-up leaves. Cloudstar launched himself into the tangled heap of warriors, claws out, just as more ThunderClan cats burst out of the ferns. The forest was split with shrieks and hisses as ThunderClan realized it was under attack and raced to defend its borders.

Cloudstar managed to haul Weaselwhisker out of the throng and held off one of the ThunderClan warriors while the brown-and-ginger tom caught his breath. Cloudstar risked a glance around and saw that the SkyClan cats were scrambling up into the trees. Yes! Fight to your strengths! he urged. The ThunderClan warriors watched, frustrated, as their enemies vanished among the branches.

“Come back and fight!” snarled one of them, flicking specks of blood from her muzzle. “Cowards!”

There was a moment’s silence, then the trees exploded with cats leaping into the air. Nightfur, Weaselwhisker, and Acornpaw plunged onto a sturdy gray tom called Nettleclaw. Cloudstar felt a surge of satisfaction, then stared in dismay as the warrior shook the cats off as if they were thistledown and pounced on Acornpaw before the apprentice could find his paws. Cloudstar raced over to help, but claws seared his pelt from behind and he staggered backward, feeling hot stinking breath on his neck fur.

He whipped around and saw Seedpelt snarling at him. “SkyClan needs to learn to respect our borders,” she hissed, lunging at him and raking her claws across his muzzle. Cloudstar shook blood from his nose and reared up to scratch the ThunderClan deputy’s ears, but she dodged away, well fed and strong.

With a start, Cloudstar saw that even Redstar had joined the fight. He was nose to nose with Fernpelt, who had clawed a patch of fur from his flank as she swung from a branch into his hindquarters. Now she was on the ground, swiping at the dark ginger tom with alternate paws. Redstar looked down at her, then knocked her sideways with one mighty blow. Fernpelt spun away into the bracken and lay in an unmoving heap. Cloudstar was about to go to her when she scrambled up, shook herself, and raced back into the throng.

Cloudstar focused instead on an orange ThunderClan warrior named Amberclaw. The cat was looking the other way, so Cloudstar crouched down and steadied himself for a leap onto Amberclaw’s haunches. Just before he sprang, a voice from above called, “Watch out!”

In the next heartbeat, Mousefang hurled herself out of the tree and plummeted through the air. But the warning she had given to Cloudstar had been heard by Amberclaw too, and the ThunderClan warrior leaped sideways. Mousefang crashed into the earth with a sickening thud. She screeched in agony. Amberclaw’s eyes gleamed and he reared up on his hind legs, ready to claw her exposed belly. Cloudstar pushed down with his hind paws and sprang over Mousefang’s body, slamming into Amberclaw and shoving him backward. The ThunderClan cat writhed underneath him, and Cloudstar realized there was no way he was going to hold the warrior still. He rolled off before Amberclaw could sink his teeth into his neck.

At least it had given Mousefang a chance to crawl away, dragging her hind leg behind her. Cloudstar caught sight of her vanishing into the ferns, and he could tell from the angle of her paw that her leg was broken. He looked around at his warriors, their rage driven by fear and hunger, and he knew they were too weak and too thin to fight the sturdy, glossy-pelted ThunderClan cats. His Clanmates were making foolish mistakes out of desperation, and too often the ThunderClan warriors were simply waiting for their attackers to stumble over their own paws. The oak trees were still drenched in ThunderClan scent, even though their trunks and the fallen leaves were spattered with SkyClan blood. Cloudstar knew this was a battle he could not win. If he let his warriors fight any longer, there would be worse injuries than Mousefang’s broken leg.

Weary beyond measure, burning with pain from more than the scratches on his pelt, Cloudstar raised his head. “SkyClan, retreat!”