Dark River

Chapter 14

Rain pattered on Jaypaw’s pelt as he crossed the clearing. He held a bundle of watermint and juniper berries in his jaws and their pungent scent filled his nose.

Millie trotted beside him. “I told him not to eat another sparrow!” She stopped beneath Highledge where Graystripe was groaning.

“How was I supposed to resist?” Graystripe gasped. He let out another low moan. “It’s been moons since there’s been so much prey.”

Jaypaw dropped his bundle of herbs. He rested a paw on Graystripe’s round belly as he lay fidgeting with pain.

“Keep still.” Jaypaw felt the hardness beneath Graystripe’s flank. “You’ve just given yourself gas.”

“I told you so,” Millie meowed.

Jaypaw rolled the juniper berries toward Graystripe’s muzzle. “These will help,” he mewed. “Then eat the watermint.”

“I thought a warrior would know that you have to start slowly after leaf-bare,” Millie went on. “All those moons on an empty belly. You can’t just stuff yourself as soon as the prey starts to run. You have to get used to it.”

“Don’t go on,” Graystripe pleaded.

Millie’s tongue lapped Graystripe’s pelt. Jaypaw felt her affection for her mate like warm air around him. His whiskers twitched with amusement. It was funny to hear a warrior being lectured by a kittypet. But she’s a warrior now, he reminded himself quickly.

Paw steps hurried into the camp. Jaypaw tasted the air.

Mousepaw and Poppypaw. From the mossy scent on their pelts, he could tell they had been in the training hollow.

“Have you seen Hollypaw?” Poppypaw called as she bounded toward Highledge.

Jaypaw felt Poppypaw’s anxious gaze burning his pelt. It darted away, awkwardness pricking from the apprentice.

“I didn’t mean see,” she corrected herself quickly. “I meant hear or scent—”

“She means, do you know where she is?” Mousepaw’s impatient mew chipped in.

Jaypaw’s pads tingled. He hadn’t seen Hollypaw since this morning. He let his awareness spread around the camp, feeling for her presence in the same way he would grope for poppy seeds among the herb store. Nothing. No sense of Hollypaw in the camp or near it. He shook his head.

Graystripe scrambled to his paws. “How long has she been missing?” he demanded.

“She was supposed to be training with us, but she didn’t turn up,” Poppypaw mewed.

“Brackenfur figured she’d been kept in camp for some reason,” Mousefur added. “So we just did the training without her. We thought she’d be here when we got back.”

“But she’s not!” Poppypaw’s shrill mew rang around the camp.

Brackenfur came bounding from the thorn tunnel. “She’s not here?”

Spiderleg and Ashfur were on his heels.

“Her scent is in the tunnel, but it’s stale,” Ashfur reported.

“She must have left camp when I told her to,” Brackenfur guessed.

“But she didn’t make it to the training hollow,” Spiderleg concluded.

Jaypaw felt the interest of their Clanmates pricking around the clearing.

Brightheart hurried over. “Perhaps she’s hurt!”

“Who’s hurt?” Sorreltail called.

“No one’s hurt!” Graystripe explained. “But Hollypaw seems to be missing.”

Jaypaw was starting to get squashed by the warriors pressing around him. Thornclaw and Whitewing had joined them.

“Perhaps WindClan has captured her!” Thornclaw declared.

Alarm flashed from the warriors and apprentices.

Cloudtail pushed his way to the front. “Why would they do that?”

Jaypaw smelled Brook’s mountain scent. “Has WindClan ever taken hostages before?” she asked.

“No, but they’ve never hunted squirrels before either!”

Dustpelt pointed out.

Sorreltail gasped. “I hope they don’t hurt her!”

Jaypaw felt torn between alarm and irritation. Everyone was panicking far too quickly. But what if Hollypaw had been captured?

Only Brook remained calm. “It wouldn’t make sense for WindClan to give themselves an extra mouth to feed.”

“But they have extra prey now that they hunt in the forest,” Brightheart meowed.

“They might think it’s worth it.” Sorreltail’s voice was taut with worry.

“We should send a patrol to rescue her!” Thornclaw announced.

Brambleclaw joined his Clanmates. “Rescue who?”

Jaypaw felt relief wash his pelt as he sensed Squirrelflight at his father’s side. She licked him between the ears. “What’s going on, Jaypaw?”

“Hollypaw’s missing.”

Squirrelflight stiffened. “Since when?”

“I spoke to her at midday,” Brackenfur explained. “She was supposed to come to the training hollow, but she never arrived.”

“WindClan must have captured her!” Brightheart meowed.

“Do we know that for sure?” Brambleclaw asked.

No one replied.

“Well, in that case, let’s not assume the worst,” the ThunderClan deputy urged.

“Knowing Hollypaw, she’s just gone off by herself,” Squirrelflight meowed.

Jaypaw nodded. Hollypaw had wandered off more than once when she needed time to think.

“But would she deliberately miss training?” Sorreltail fretted.

“She’s never missed it before.” Firestar’s mew sounded above them. He was on Highledge. The cats shuffled backward to look up at their leader. Jaypaw was relieved to have some space but he could feel guilt and anxiety flooding from Firestar. What did he have to feel guilty about?

“We can’t assume that WindClan have taken her,” the ThunderClan leader went on.

“But we know they want to attack us,” Thornclaw called.

“This might be their way of provoking a battle.”

Worried mews rippled around the Clan.

“We don’t know for sure they want to attack,” Firestar reasoned. “And as Squirrelflight pointed out, Hollypaw is perfectly capable of going off by herself. She’s always been independent. Don’t forget she went fox-hunting when she was still a kit!”

Firestar’s mew was light but Jaypaw could sense the leader’s thoughts churning. Meanwhile, his Clanmates’ ruffled pelts began to smooth. Of course Hollypaw was all right.

Disappearing for the day was just the sort of thing she’d do.

Jaypaw wasn’t convinced. Firestar knew more than he was letting on. He tried to probe the ThunderClan leader’s mind, but a fretful cloud obscured any clear thoughts. Perhaps he should just ask him outright? Jaypaw shrugged away the idea.

Firestar clearly wanted to keep his fears to himself.

Jaypaw slipped past Brook and Brightheart and headed toward the medicine den. As he neared it, he heard the brambles at the entrance rustle. Leafpool had just darted inside.

She must have been listening. He padded into the cave, a little taken aback by the wave of emotion flooding from Leafpool’s pelt.

“Is it true?” Cinderpaw’s anxious mew sounded from her nest. “Has Hollypaw disappeared?”

“You know Hollypaw,” Jaypaw soothed. “She’s probably gone off to think.”

“I guess.” Cinderpaw’s nest rustled as she settled back down, but Jaypaw could sense the tension in her muscles.

Across the den, alarm pulsed even more fiercely from Leafpool.

“What’s the matter?” he hissed, hurrying to his mentor’s side. He focused on her thoughts and found her mind chaotic with worry and guilt, just as Firestar’s had been. They both knew something!

“I spoke to Hollypaw before she left the camp,” Leafpool admitted quietly.

Jaypaw pricked his ears. “Did she say where she was going?”

“No, but she was upset.” Leafpool’s voice was hoarse.

“She’d just asked Firestar to help RiverClan.”

“And he said no,” Jaypaw guessed, remembering how Firestar had reacted to his dream.

“She couldn’t possibly believe she could help RiverClan by herself!” meowed Leafpool.

“Hollypaw wouldn’t be that mouse-brained,” Jaypaw agreed.

“But maybe she thought that if she couldn’t reason with Firestar, she might be able to convince Onestar not to fight,” Leafpool went on reluctantly.

A dark pit seemed to open in Jaypaw’s stomach. Hollypaw always thought the world was neatly divided into right and wrong. And if she thought Firestar was making a mistake, she might be stubborn enough to try and mend things on her own. He shook the thought away. She wouldn’t be that reck-less. Would she?

He felt Leafpool’s paw pressing his. “You must try to dream!” she meowed. “You have to find out where she is!”

Her urgent plea set his fur bristling with indignation. Not so long ago she’d begged him to keep his dreams a secret; now she wanted him to use them to find Hollypaw. Was this all he was to her? A quick way to get answers from StarClan when she wanted them, and a danger to the Clan when she didn’t?

“Please!”

“I’m not tired!” Jaypaw objected. “I can’t just dream when I like.”

“Just close your eyes and try,” Leafpool begged.

“I’ll dream when I’m ready!” he snapped.

He padded toward the entrance and felt Leafpool’s pelt brush against his. She was blocking the way!

“You have to try now!” Leafpool hissed.

Jaypaw’s pelt bristled. “But she’s probably just gone off by herself for a bit.” What was wrong with Leafpool? She sounded more worried than Squirrelflight!

Cinderpaw’s nest rustled. “Is something wrong?”

Leafpool turned to reassure her patient. “Don’t worry,” she soothed. “Keep still and rest your leg.”

So that was what she was worried about. Not Hollypaw.

Just her precious patient. Jaypaw’s ears burned with rage. He pushed past her and stamped out of the den.

The camp was calmer now. Firestar had jumped down from Highledge to talk to Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight.

“The sunset patrol can keep an eye open for any trace of her,” Firestar was meowing. “We’ll see what they report and then send out a search party.”

“I want to be on the sunset patrol,” Squirrelflight meowed at once.

“And the search party,” Brambleclaw added.

“Of course,” Firestar agreed. “You must lead them both.”

Jaypaw let his ruffled fur relax. A search party was much more sensible than Leafpool’s desperate plea for dreams. She was as edgy as a deer these days. If Hollypaw didn’t turn up, then of course he’d try and use his powers to find her, but he wasn’t going to sleep all afternoon just because Leafpool ordered him to. He wanted to get away from her, away from the camp, away from everyone. He began to squeeze through the thorn tunnel.

“Where are you going?” Squirrelflight called after him.

Anxiety was pricking from her pelt. Was she worried about losing another kit? One that every cat believed couldn’t take care of himself?

“For a walk.”

“Don’t be long.”

I’ll be as long as I like! Jaypaw headed into the trees. The damp air promised rain, and the forest smelled musty. He found his paws heading up the slope toward the lake. He sniffed eagerly for the scent of the open water, quickening his pace as he topped the ridge and headed down and out of the trees. This route would take him straight to the shore where he had left the branch. He began to hurry, whiskers twitching, paws following the familiar path down to the shore.

He scrambled down onto the beach and paused. Unlike the forest, which never seemed to change, the ground around the edge of the lake was always different. The pebbles seemed to shift so that they never felt the same underpaw, and debris came and went, washed up, then washed away again. Jaypaw loved the challenge of the shore. Just so long as he could steer clear of the water. He padded cautiously forward, muzzle outstretched, sniffing for driftwood or rubbish that might trip him. But his mind was fixed on the stick, hopefully still tucked safely behind the tree root. He weaved his way toward it, his heart beating faster as he neared it. He reached out a paw. It was there! Still safe.

Happily, he dragged it from its hiding place and ran his paws over it, feeling the warmth of the wood and welcoming the jarring ripples as his pads bumped over the scratches. The swishing of the waves and the murmuring of the wind drifted away. He was aware only of the branch beneath his pads and the sharp etches cut into it. A voice breathed in his ears, too soft to hear. It was husky like the voice of an old cat and it seemed to be listing names, as though counting them off.

Jaypaw felt his heart quicken as his paw neared the end of the branch. The uncrossed scratches lay there. His belly tightened.

He strained to hear the voice. But when his paw touched the first uncrossed mark the voice choked and fell silent.

Disappointed, Jaypaw lay down beside the stick and rested his cheek on the smooth wood. He closed his eyes, soothed by the lapping of the lake, and began to dream.

Sandy earth shifted beneath his paws. He blinked open his eyes. A wall of jagged rock loomed ahead of him. Rolling heather rippled behind him in the wind. The sky overhead was black, studded with stars. At the top of the rock wall, he saw cats silhouetted against the night sky. None looked familiar and when he sniffed the air, Jaypaw recognized the scent only from those he had smelled at the Moonpool, when ancient Clans had brushed pelts with him on the paw-worn path to the pool.

Suddenly, one cat broke away from the others and bounded down the steep slope, a young tom with muscular shoulders beneath his sleek ginger-and-white pelt. A she-cat scrambled after him. The others remained at the top, their tails flicking nervously.

“Take care,” the she-cat called, landing lightly on the sand.

The tom brushed muzzles with her. “I will see you at dawn, I promise.” He turned to face the cliff and, for the first time, Jaypaw realized there was a crack in the rock immediately behind him.

The tom padded toward it. Jaypaw tried to step out of the way but the tom stepped through him as though he wasn’t there. As their spirits crossed, Jaypaw felt a shudder of foreboding. This cat had never entered the rock before. He was frightened. As his tail disappeared into the shadows, Jaypaw’s belly fluttered with excitement. He had to know where the cat was going. Quickly he slipped in after him.

Darkness swallowed him and for a moment Jaypaw wondered if he had woken up and was blind once more. But then he heard the soft pad of the tom’s paws ahead and Jaypaw sensed space opening into the hillside, a narrow passageway that led straight into the rock.

Fear spiked the air. Yet determination rippled out from the tom’s pelt too. The pounding of his heart seemed to make the air around them tremble and it grew louder as the tunnel opened into a cave. Pale light glowed overhead, streaming through a small gap in the roof. The arching walls were filled with more openings; the tunnels must spread like roots beneath the moor. Rushing water echoed around the rocks.

Jaypaw saw with surprise that there was a river cutting through the cave and flowing away into yet another tunnel, the water black as night.

“Fallen Leaves?”

Jaypaw jerked his head up. An old cat was calling to the tom from a high ledge near the moonlit gap. Fallen Leaves?

The tom jumped.

“I can feel your surprise,” the old cat croaked.

Jaypaw stared at the ancient cat. Its pelt was nothing but a few tufts of fur, its eyes were white and bulging and stared sightlessly down.

I hope my eyes don’t look like that!

Fallen Leaves knew this cat would be here—Jaypaw could sense understanding and recognition between the two cats—but the young tom had clearly not expected him to be so ugly.

The old cat ran a paw over something smooth and pale—a bare branch clasped beneath his twisted claws.

Jaypaw stiffened. My stick! He strained to hear what the ancient cat was saying.

“…I must stay close to our warrior ancestors; those who have taken their place beneath the earth.”

“And for that we thank you,” Fallen Leaves murmured.

“Don’t thank me,” the old cat growled. “It was a destiny I was bound to follow. Besides, you may not feel so grateful to me once your initiation has begun.” He ran a long claw over the lines scratched into the branch.

Fear pulsed from the young tom and swept Jaypaw like an icy wind. What was he so afraid of? Jaypaw looked back up at the ledge.

The old cat was shaking his head. “I cannot help you. To become a sharpclaw, you must guide yourself through these tunnels and find your own way out. I can only send you on your way with the blessing of our ancestors.”

A sharpclaw? Was that like a warrior? Jaypaw suddenly understood the young tom’s fear and his determination. It wasn’t just the darkness he faced, but his future.

“Is it raining?” the old cat asked suddenly.

Jaypaw saw Fallen Leaves stiffen.

“The sky is clear.” But Jaypaw sensed doubt flicker in the young cat’s mind.

The old cat ran his claw once more over the lines etched in the branch. “Then begin.”

Fallen Leaves leaped across the river and headed into the tunnel that opened beneath the old cat’s ledge. Jaypaw bounded after him, relieved that he could see. He wouldn’t want to cross the river blind. He shuddered as he imagined falling in and being sucked into the tunnel. Forcing away the thought, he followed Fallen Leaves into blackness once more.

This way leads up!

Jaypaw felt the realization cross Fallen Leaves’s mind as clearly as if he’d said it out loud. Jaypaw weaved after him through the darkness. The rocky tunnel was smooth beneath his paws. What had made it so slick? It wound upward, narrowing and then widening, turning first one way, then the other.

Jaypaw’s breath quickened. He could hardly believe he was walking with an ancient Clan cat, watching him cross the border from kithood to cathood. The surface of the moor couldn’t be far away now, and then Fallen Leaves would be safe. Safe and a sharpclaw, just like he wanted. A puddle of moonlight splashed the floor ahead of them; Fallen Leaves dashed through it, glancing up. Jaypaw followed and saw a narrow gap above them, too high to reach.

Suddenly, the tunnel narrowed and began to slope downward.

Downward? But they’d nearly reached the open moor!

Doubt bristled in Fallen Leaves’s pelt, but Jaypaw sensed him push it away. The tunnel twisted and Fallen Leaves’s pelt brushed the wall as he swerved to follow the snaking passageway. Jaypaw was impressed how this cat coped with the darkness, much better than any ThunderClan cats would; he must have been trained to find his way with scent and touch alone.

The slope continued downward. Fallen Leaves halted, and Jaypaw sensed uncertainty. The tunnel ahead split. Which way should he take? Fallen Leaves padded slowly into one, then backed up. Jaypaw felt the tom’s tail slide through his formless body. He jerked as it sent a jolt of doubt like lightning through his fur. He scrabbled backward. The young tom was losing his nerve.

Fallen Leaves darted forward, hurrying on once more. He had chosen the other tunnel, though it sloped downward.

Jaypaw could smell heather; Fallen Leaves was following the scent of fresh air. Hope flashed in Jaypaw’s chest. This must be the right way. He saw another pool of moonlight flood the tunnel in front of them. Could they get out here?

Fallen Leaves quickened his pace. Jaypaw felt hope flare in the young tom and then plummet as he reached the moonlight. Jaypaw looked up. The hole was wide but a long way out of reach. And in the shaft of moonlight, drops of rain flickered, spattering down into the tunnel.

Alarm blazed from Fallen Leaves’s pelt. It swept away his disappointment like a cold wind clearing mist. He was scared of the rain! He shot onward, moving faster now, bumping into the sides of the tunnel more often in his desperation to find a way out. Jaypaw skidded as he followed Fallen Leaves around a sharp bend. The tunnel floor was growing slippery with raindrops. He flicked his tail, recovering his balance, frightened he might lose sight of Fallen Leaves.

The floor was growing wetter and wetter. Rain dripped faster through each hole they passed. A storm must be battering the moor above.

Suddenly, Fallen Leaves skidded to a halt. The tunnel had stopped at a smooth gray wall. He spun around and raced through Jaypaw.

Jaypaw’s fur stood on end.

Fallen Leaves was struggling to keep his terror under control. He raced away, veering down an opening in the side of the tunnel, and Jaypaw’s claws skittered over the floor as he turned and pelted after him. The tunnel dipped sharply.

Jaypaw gasped as water lapped his paws. He followed Fallen Leaves as the tunnel began to slope upward, but still the water came, rushing down the passage, washing up against Jaypaw’s belly.

The tunnels were flooding!

Fallen Leaves swerved through a new opening. It was narrower than the previous tunnels, and the walls pressed in on either side. A hole let in a glimmer of light, but it was too far up to climb out.

Fallen Leaves skidded to a halt. Jaypaw could smell peaty water and hear it sloshing ahead. He peered through the darkness and saw Fallen Leaves recoiling, his forepaws engulfed. The tunnel sloped down sharply in front of him and disappeared into water so deep it lapped the roof. Jaypaw turned around even before Fallen Leaves began to double back. He was leading now, scrambling back the way they’d come. Perhaps they could make it to the cave!

Fallen Leaves ran faster, clearly remembering the route, pulling past Jaypaw and taking the lead.

Please StarClan, let him find the cave!

Blood pounded in Jaypaw’s ears. Unbridled terror pulsed from Fallen Leaves.

Jaypaw heard a roaring. Wind surged behind him, tugging his fur as it swept over him. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw water skidding toward them, splashing around the walls and roof.

Hurry! Jaypaw was running for his life.

Fallen Leaves glanced backward too, his eyes shining with terror. For the first time, he seemed to see Jaypaw.

“Save me!”

As Fallen Leaves cried out, the water lifted Jaypaw, swallowing his tail, his belly, and finally engulfing all of him so that he was tossed and swirled by cold clutching waves. Water filled his ears, his eyes, his mouth, and he struggled against it, not knowing which way was up, lost in the darkness, drowning. His sight faded, his ears roared, and he let his body go limp.

Jaypaw blinked open his eyes, gulping for air, and leaped away from the branch. Rain was pelting down, drenching his fur, and waves pounded the shore, driven across the lake by a fierce wind. He wanted to go home, back to the shelter of the camp.

Fallen Leaves!

Gingerly he reached out for the branch, feeling for the last uncrossed mark.

Now he knew what it meant. Fallen Leaves had gone into the tunnels, but he had never come out.