Dark River

Chapter 12

“Watch out!”

Graystripe’s warning was muffled by the bramble stem clasped in his jaws. Hollypaw hopped backward as the trail of brambles swished past her. Millie scurried by, trying to guide Graystripe’s prickly load safely across the clearing.

“I thought the den was finished,” Hollypaw mewed to Hazelpaw, flicking her tail at the addition to the warriors’ den. Its walls were thick and its roof pressed firmly into place.

Why do they need even more brambles?

“It’s not for the warriors’ den.” Hazelpaw shook her gray-and-white head. “They’re reinforcing the nursery.”

Hollypaw’s heart sank. Why was everyone so sure there was going to be a battle?

Ferncloud began shooing Foxkit and Icekit away from the nursery while Graystripe and Millie wrapped the brambles around the already densely tangled bush.

Hazelpaw nodded toward the fresh-kill pile where Mousepaw was choosing his midday snack. “Are you coming?”

Hollypaw shook her head. She wasn’t hungry. Anxiety had been churning in her belly since the Gathering. Besides, she was hunting with Brackenfur later; she could eat then. She watched Hazelpaw pick a mouse from the pile and settle down beside Mousepaw, their fluffy gray pelts merging into one.

Suddenly, the honeysuckle quivered and Brightheart rushed from the elders’ den. The one-eyed cat was snapping instructions over her shoulder. “Quick, this way!”

Longtail shot out behind her, Mousefur limping after him.

“I don’t see why we have to practice,” Mousefur coughed.

“I know the drill.”

Brightheart halted at the bottom of the tumble of rocks.

“You need to know it by heart in case there’s an attack at night.”

Longtail paused beside Brightheart. “Dark or light, it makes no difference to me.” His sightless eyes sparkled teasingly.

Mousefur padded stiffly past him. “I’ve been in this camp long enough to know the way.” Hollypaw could hear her begin to wheeze as she clambered up the rocks toward the safety of Highledge. Longtail followed closely, nudging her forward whenever her paws slipped. Greencough had left Mousefur weaker than any cat would admit—Mousefur especially. It wasn’t fair to make her drill like this, especially for a battle that might never happen.

Thornclaw and Whitewing padded past Hollypaw.

Thornclaw glanced at her. “Shouldn’t you be helping reinforce the defenses?”

“I’m training with Brackenfur soon,” Hollypaw explained.

“Good.” Thornclaw halted beneath Highledge where Stormfur and Brook were sharing tongues. “We need our apprentices sharp.”

Brook looked up. “Are you so sure the battle will happen?”

There was anxiety in her husky mountain mew.

“We can’t be too careful,” Thornclaw growled.

Stormfur sat up. “It doesn’t make sense,” he meowed.

“Why would WindClan attack us?”

“Yes!” Brook’s eyes brightened. “RiverClan’s the one they’re going to have trouble with.”

“What happens to RiverClan will affect us all,” Whitewing meowed.

Thornclaw flicked his tail. “If RiverClan is driven from their territory, where will they go?”

“They’ll need to settle somewhere,” Whitewing pointed out.

Stormfur sighed. “None of the borders will be safe.”

Hollypaw’s pelt pricked with anxiety. How could the four Clans survive if RiverClan lost their territory?

“Hollypaw?” Brackenfur was heading toward her.

“Are we going hunting?”

“Change of plan.” Brackenfur nodded toward Mousepaw and Hazelpaw. “We’ll be battle training with your denmates instead.”

Battle training!

He started to hurry away. “I’ll meet you at the training hollow.”

Hollypaw padded halfheartedly to the camp entrance. She didn’t want to train for a battle that might lead to the end of four Clans living around the lake. Stormfur’s words rang in her ears: None of the borders will be safe.

She had to stop this!

She turned and almost crashed into Mousepaw. His green eyes were shining. “Did Brackenfur tell you?”

Hazelpaw clawed the ground behind him. “We’re battle training!”

Hollypaw stared at them. “Go ahead without me,” she whispered.

“What are you doing?” Mousepaw asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” she mewed. “I’ll catch up with you when I’ve finished.”

“But what will we tell Brackenfur?”

Hollypaw didn’t answer Hazelpaw’s anxious question. She had already pushed past her denmates and was halfway across the clearing. Brackenfur had stopped to talk with Stormfur.

Hollypaw quickly ducked behind the elders’ den.

“Imagine thinking I couldn’t find my way up to Highledge.” She heard Mousefur’s croaking mew from inside.

“They’ll have us practicing washing next.”

“Well, at least we’re ready now,” Longtail mewed soothingly.

“I was born ready!” Mousefur grumbled.

Hollypaw’s pelt bristled with anticipation as Brackenfur finally nodded to Stormfur. “See you later.” The golden warrior headed away toward the camp entrance.

Hollypaw slipped out from behind the honeysuckle and scurried up the rocks to Highledge. “Firestar!” She rushed into the cave, blinking against the sudden darkness.

Firestar’s eyes flashed in the shadows. Sandstorm was plucking the feathers from a sparrow carcass on the other side of the cave.

“What is it, Hollypaw?” Firestar sat up straight.

“You can’t just let it happen!” Hollypaw mewed.

Sandstorm padded to Firestar’s side. “Let what happen?”

“The battle that everyone’s preparing for!”

“The battle might not happen.” Firestar meowed calmly.

“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.”

“But why are we getting ready to fight WindClan when we should be helping RiverClan?” Hollypaw stepped forward, her paws trembling. “When I spoke to Willowpaw at the Gathering, she was so upset! All the RiverClan cats were.

They need our help. But all we’re doing is getting ready to attack WindClan!”

Firestar curled his tail over his paws. “I have no intention of attacking WindClan,” he meowed. “But we must be ready if they attack us.”

Hollypaw couldn’t understand how Firestar could be so stupid. “WindClan won’t attack. It’s RiverClan who is in trouble!”

“If RiverClan is forced into WindClan territory, then WindClan may try to take some of ours,” Firestar explained.

“RiverClan would never want to live on the moorland!”

Hollypaw’s whiskers quivered. “They’d want to stay by the lake where they can fish.”

Sandstorm leaned forward. “Clans can adapt to anything if they have to.”

Firestar nodded. “Look how WindClan is getting used to hunting in woodland.”

Hollypaw angrily flicked her tail. “Why don’t we try to solve the problem before it turns into a fight?”

Firestar lifted a paw, warning her to calm down.

“RiverClan must be allowed to solve their own problems.”

“But what if they can’t?”

Paw steps sounded outside. Hollypaw glanced around to see Leafpool padding into the cave.

“I thought I heard you in here.” The medicine cat blinked at Hollypaw.

Firestar dipped his head to Leafpool. “Hollypaw’s worried about the battle.”

Fresh frustration flared in Hollypaw’s pelt. “There doesn’t have to be a battle!”

“Of course there doesn’t,” Leafpool assured her. “When I spoke to Mothwing at the Gathering, she said that RiverClan was dealing with their problem. But if they can’t solve it, we have to be ready.”

“But if we helped them,” Hollypaw mewed, “then they’d be okay.”

Leafpool shook her head. “We must trust RiverClan to sort it out themselves.”

“Leafpool’s right,” Firestar meowed. “Besides, helping RiverClan would mean crossing WindClan territory.”

“Or ShadowClan’s,” Sandstorm added.

Leafpool ran her tail down Hollypaw’s flank. “And that would only make things worse, wouldn’t it?”

Hollypaw shied away from Leafpool, bristling. She didn’t need to be soothed, like a kit having a bad dream! Why couldn’t they take her seriously?

“Isn’t Brackenfur waiting for you?” Sandstorm prompted.

“You mustn’t fall behind with your training,” Firestar reminded her.

Hollypaw turned and stamped out of the cave. Pebbles clacked under her paws as she bounded down the rocks to the clearing.

“Wait!”

Hollypaw glanced backward.

Leafpool was hurrying after her. “I can see you’re upset.”

Hollypaw turned on her. “Why won’t any of you listen?”

“You must remember,” Leafpool soothed, “we all have more experience than you. You have to trust us to know what’s right.”

“StarClan would want us to help RiverClan,” Hollypaw mewed.

“You can’t be sure of that.” Leafpool blinked. “I know you’re worried about Willowpaw, but you’re training to be a warrior now. It’s not appropriate to have such close friends in other Clans.”

Hollypaw glared at her. This isn’t about Willowpaw. This is about the future of all four Clans! She searched Leafpool’s gaze and found only a gentle concern. I’m wasting my breath!

“Go and find Brackenfur,” Leafpool suggested. “He’s heading for the training hollow.”

“I know where he is,” Hollypaw hissed through gritted teeth.

“I’m sure he must be expecting you.” Leafpool touched Hollypaw’s cheek with her nose, then padded away.

Hollypaw flexed her claws. If she could find out exactly what was happening in RiverClan, perhaps then she could convince Firestar to help, and the Clans wouldn’t need to fight.

She had to talk to Willowpaw.

She darted through the entrance tunnel, thorns scraping her pelt. Outside the camp, she glanced around. No one was there. She hurried into the trees, away from the training hollow, and headed up the ridge toward the WindClan border.

“Squirrel!”

Birchfall’s excited yowl pierced the air. Hollypaw dived into a patch of ferns, pressing her belly to the ground. Paw steps were pounding toward her. She peeped through the green fronds and saw Birchfall and Ashfur skidding down the slope. Lionpaw was racing behind them, his tail fluffed out.

She ducked back into the foliage and held her breath. The ferns rustled around her as the patrol whisked past less than a tail-length away.

Hollypaw screwed her eyes shut. Don’t let them see me!

Heart pounding, she heard their paw steps fade into the forest. Relief washed her pelt and she crept from her hiding place and started up the slope. Ears pricked and nose twitching, she ran over the top of the ridge and headed down, out of the trees, and across the bumpy grass to the WindClan border. Her paws trembled as the tang of WindClan hit her nose. This border had been recently marked.

Hollypaw scanned the heather-swathed slope that rose up to the high moorland.

No sign of any patrols.

Tail trembling, she padded across the scent line. Rain was beginning to fall from the dove-gray sky. It’ll help cover my scent, she thought, relieved as the drops began to soak her fur. She padded through the heather, heading downhill toward the lake, and scrambled down from the peaty earth onto the pebbly shore. Keeping low, she scooted to the water’s edge. Just to be on the safe side, she waded through the shallows. The water would disguise her scent even more. She shivered with cold as the waves lapped her belly fur, but at least WindClan wouldn’t suspect a ThunderClan cat had trespassed on their territory.

The rain fell harder, hissing against the surface of the lake. Droplets streamed from her whiskers. Hollypaw glanced toward the moorland rising from the shore, praying that, if a patrol appeared from the heather, her black pelt would appear only as sodden driftwood against the gray water. She saw reeds begin to dot the shore up ahead; she was nearing RiverClan territory. She quickened her pace. She could hide more easily among the rushes. Pebbles turned to mud beneath her paws and she smelled the strong scent of RiverClan. Padding out of the shallows she crept into the reed bed, thankful to be out of the water and hidden by the towering rushes.

Suddenly, a yowl sounded ahead.

Hollypaw froze and sniffed the air. Fresh warrior scent. A hunting party?

She dropped into a crouch, trembling with cold and fear as she spotted the stone-colored pelt of Mistyfoot through the reeds. The RiverClan deputy was stalking something. Hollypaw backed away as Mistyfoot drew nearer. She pressed herself against the earth, hoping that her drenched pelt was too wet to betray her scent.

Suddenly, Mistyfoot sprang forward, paws outstretched. A moment later she straightened, her whiskers twitching with triumph and a water vole dangling from her jaws. Hollypaw sighed with relief as the RiverClan deputy turned and padded away. Mistyfoot looked thin and her usually glossy pelt was dull. Clearly, RiverClan was going hungry.

Hollypaw waited a few moments before she began to pad on gingerly. The island was not far ahead now, the tree-bridge distinct on the shoreline. How would she cross it without being seen? She stiffened herself against the anxiety that nagged at her bones. I’ve come this far… Slipping from the cover of the reeds, she darted over the marshy shore and dived among the tangle of roots at the foot of the tree-bridge.

Pressing herself into them she scanned the shore, blood pulsing in her ears. She sniffed the air.

No sign of any cat.

Cautiously, she clambered up through the roots and hauled herself onto the tree-bridge. Keeping low, she crept along the trunk, gripping the slimy bark with her claws.

Hardly daring to breath, she pricked her ears, listening for an alarm call. She reached the other side, shaking with relief, and slid down through the branches onto the shore.

Which way now?

This wasn’t a Gathering. She couldn’t just push through the undergrowth and head for the clearing. How was she going to find Willowpaw?

Hope tingled in her paws when she realized that, not far along the shore, the beach was overtaken by undergrowth.

The trees reached the water here, their roots snaking into the lake, and ferns and brambles tumbled over the lip of the island.

Hollypaw took a deep breath and raced across the small stretch of open beach. She dived under the cover of a clump of ferns. The fronds spilled into the water, forming a tunnel around the edge of the island.

Where in StarClan is the medicine den? Hollypaw prayed she would detect Willowpaw’s familiar scent soon. But what if it led her inland, toward the heart of RiverClan’s new camp?

She crept through the fern tunnel, clambering over tree roots and hauling herself through clumps of bramble, her paws occasionally slipping off the muddy bank and into the cold lake.

Suddenly, the undergrowth ended. Rocks stretched ahead of her, rough and flat and black against the water. They reached into the lake, forming a small causeway that ended in a rocky outcrop, jutting up from the water. Hollypaw lifted her head, ears pricked, and tasted the air. She could hear the sounds of RiverClan drifting from the center of the island: queens talking, kits mewling, an elder complaining about ticks. No sound of warriors or apprentices, though. Hollypaw frowned. At the Gathering, the island had been teeming with RiverClan cats. Where were the rest of them now?

No time to worry about that!

Where was Willowpaw?

Hollypaw shivered. She was freezing. Her wet pelt clung to her. She was far from home. Panic started to rise in her chest.

What if she couldn’t find her friend?

Then she heard a squeal. A kit was wailing somewhere up ahead. “That hurt!”

The soft mew of a queen soothed it. “It’ll only hurt for a bit.”

Hollypaw could smell herbs. Someone was treating the kit with marigold!

She crept out onto the rough, flat causeway, following the scent. It was coming from the rocky outcrop. Crouching lower than ever, Hollypaw slithered around the edge and peered through a gap in the stones.

“We’ll need more marigold soon.”

Willowpaw!

The RiverClan medicine cat apprentice was crouched in a hollow in the heart of the outcrop, crushing leaves against the rough stone floor with her paws. “The kits keep getting pine needles stuck in their pads.”

Mothwing sat on a ledge nearby, licking herbs into the mewling kit’s paw. A white she-cat held the kit in her paws as it struggled against Mothwing’s lapping tongue.

“Try to keep her out of the pine needles, Icewing,” Mothwing advised.

“It’s not easy,” the queen sighed.

“I know,” Mothwing agreed. “I’ll come back to the nursery with you and sweep some of the needles away from the entrance.”

The queen lifted the kit by its scruff and began to carry it, still mewling, out from the sheltering rocks and along the causeway that led back to the island. Mothwing followed her.

When she was sure there was no other cat close enough to hear, Hollypaw hissed through the gap in the rock.

“Willowpaw!”

The medicine cat apprentice froze. “Who’s that?”

“It’s me, Hollypaw!”

Hollypaw quickly clambered back around the jutting rocks and slipped into the hollow beside Willowpaw. There was more space inside the outcrop than she had imagined. It was a cave, hollowed out by countless moons of wind and water, protected from the wind and rain by a low roof.

Willowpaw crouched at the back, her eyes round with shock. “What are you doing here?”

“I promised I’d come,” Hollypaw reminded her.

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

Hollypaw shook her head. Then she tensed. Mothwing’s scent was wafting into the cave.

“Hollypaw?” Mothwing’s mew was sharp.

Hollypaw spun around.

“I came back for poppy seeds.” The RiverClan medicine cat was standing in the cave entrance. Her bones looked sharp beneath her pelt. “Hollypaw! What are you doing here?”

“I had to do something!” Hollypaw mewed desperately.

“ThunderClan are getting ready to fight WindClan.

Everyone’s scared about what will happen if RiverClan is driven out of its home.”

Mothwing looked at her. “RiverClan is not going to be driven out of anywhere.”

“How can you be sure?” Hollypaw gazed back at her thin frame, unconvinced. “You’re half starved, and you’re still living on the island.”

Willowpaw brushed against her. “It won’t be for long.”

Hollypaw glanced at the rows of herbs carefully stacked against the cave wall. It looked like RiverClan was planning to be here for some time. “But you’ve brought everything from your old camp,” she pointed out.

The RiverClan medicine cat sighed. “You’d better show her.”

“Really?” Willowpaw looked surprised. “Now?”

Mothwing nodded. “Just don’t let yourselves be seen.”

Willowpaw nodded and streaked from the cave. Hollypaw hurried after her, pelt ruffled with curiosity. She followed Willowpaw across the tiny causeway and back around the shoreline.

“Let’s swim across to the mainland,” Willowpaw mewed.

“It’ll be easier to stay out of sight.”

Hollypaw’s wet fur spiked in alarm. “I know I’m soaked, but there’s no way I’m swimming!” The tree-bridge lay only a few fox-lengths ahead of them.

“Okay, okay,” Willowpaw mewed impatiently. “But we’d better disguise you somehow. Your scent’s seeping through.”

She scanned the shoreline, whiskers twitching. “Follow me.”

The medicine cat apprentice pushed her way among some clumps of grass that grew half in, half out of the water.

“Here.” Before Hollypaw could complain, she scooped up a pawful of brown muck and smeared it over Hollypaw’s pelt.

Hollypaw gagged. “What’s that?” The goo clung to her fur, sticky and smelly.

“Otter dung,” Willowpaw mewed. “It should hide your ThunderClan scent.”

Hollypaw coughed. “You’re kidding!”

“You can wash it off later,” Willowpaw hissed. “Just be quiet and keep still.”

She smeared another few pawfuls along Hollypaw’s flank.

Hollypaw began to wish she had never come. Then Willowpaw reared up and scanned the shore on both sides of the lake.

“Quick!” She scrambled across the beach and up onto the tree-bridge.

Hollypaw followed, swallowing the nausea that rose in her throat at the smell of the otter dung. “Are you sure this stuff will disguise me?” she hissed as they crossed the bridge. “It’s so strong, I bet ThunderClan can smell me.”

“Certain.” Willowpaw leaped down from the tree, crossed the shore, and dived into a forest of reeds. Hollypaw followed, struggling in the soft ground. Mud clung to her legs and coated her belly fur. Willowpaw seemed to be hopping among the clumps of reeds, staying free of the mud.

Hollypaw watched her closely and began to follow her path exactly, relieved to find that, so long as she kept to her friend’s paw steps, she kept her paws and belly dry.

At last the ground became firmer and Hollypaw felt grass underpaw. Willowpaw was leading her up a slope. There were trees here and the undergrowth grew thick and lush. The slope grew steeper until Hollypaw found she was scrambling up a red sandy cliff. She followed Willowpaw as the RiverClan apprentice leaped up and up, using rocks that jutted from the earth to haul herself higher. At last the two cats clawed their way onto the grassy bank at the top. Panting, Hollypaw looked down. The lake shone far below, glimmering through the fresh green leaves.

“Where are we going?” Hollypaw panted.

“You’ll see in a moment.” Willowpaw headed up the bank and disappeared into a swath of long grass.

Hollypaw hurried after her.

“Look.” Willowpaw had stopped.

Hollypaw crept to her side as Willowpaw gently parted the grass. She peered through. Below them, a wide stream followed the line of the slope. An island rose in the middle, parting the water abruptly so that eddies swirled where the stream was forced to divide. The island was crowded with small trees and bushes, green amid the rolling brown water.

“That’s our old camp,” Willowpaw explained.

Hollypaw heard the clatter of rocks and stiffened. “What’s that?”

“The warriors are working.”

“Working?” Hollypaw blinked.

Suddenly, she spotted the pelts of RiverClan warriors and apprentices weaving through the grass on either side of the stream. On the near side, she recognized the apprentices Pouncepaw and Minnowpaw. They were helping Reedwhisker and Voletooth to shift stones, pushing them toward the stream and tipping them over the edge so that they fell with a loud splash into the water.

“What are they doing?”

“Blocking the stream to make it deeper and wider,” Willowpaw replied.

Blackclaw, a muscular, broad-shouldered black tom, called from the far side of the stream. “Hurry! Grab what you can!”

He stood near the water’s edge, calling orders to warriors who were bravely leaping across the channel with wads of mossy bedding dangling from their jaws.

“We need to rescue as much stuff as we can,” Willowpaw explained. “The pine needles on the island are no good for making the nests weatherproof.”

“But why are you doing all this?” Hollypaw couldn’t understand what was going on. The old camp looked safe enough, almost as well protected by the divided stream as ThunderClan was by the cliffs of stone.

A warning yowl sounded upstream and Minnowpaw came hurtling down the bank. “They’re coming!”

Every RiverClan cat instantly dropped whatever they were carrying or pushing and scrambled away from the island, heading down toward the lake.

Hollypaw’s fur bristled. “What’s the matter?”

“You’ll see,” Willowpaw mewed.

Tramping through the grass, along the far side of the stream, came a gang of Twoleg kits. They were sweeping jagged branches through the grass and mewling loudly to one another. As Hollypaw watched, the largest of the kits hopped from the shore and onto a stone that barely broke the surface of the stream, then onto another and another. Balancing precariously on one leg, it leaned toward the island, and began to poke the bushes with its stick. The other kits yelped their approval and encouraged him by waving their hairless paws in the air.

Hollypaw stared at her friend in dismay.

Willowpaw lashed her tail. “Now do you see why we had to leave?”