Eclipse

Chapter 2

Jaypaw touched his nose to Tawnypelt’s pad. It felt hot and fat. “Swollen,” he pronounced. “The skin’s grazed but not bleeding. But you already know that.” He could hear Hollypaw’s and Lionpaw’s faint mews as they headed away to find prey. Were they talking about the prophecy?

Tawnypelt pulled her paw from under his muzzle. “I knew I couldn’t taste blood, but I wasn’t sure if a stone had worked its way in.” She licked it. “My pads have grown so hard from the mountains, I can’t tell calluses from cuts anymore.”

“No stones,” Jaypaw reassured her. He nodded toward the sound of water babbling over rocks nearby. “That stream doesn’t sound too deep. Go stand in it. The water should ease the swelling.”

He padded after her and heard the splash as she leaped into the water.

She gasped. “It’s cold!”

“Good,” he mewed. “It’ll take down the swelling quicker.”

He pricked his ears. Hollypaw’s and Lionpaw’s voices had faded into the distance. At last he had shared with them the secret he had kept to himself for so long. Telling it had felt like walking through unknown territory, each word falling like a paw step on uncertain ground. Lionpaw had accepted it as though something that had been confusing him had finally been explained. Hollypaw’s reaction had been more frustrating: She only seemed concerned about how they could use their powers to help ThunderClan, and kept fretting about the warrior code. Didn’t she understand that the prophecy meant more than that? They had been given a power that stretched far beyond the boundaries set by ordinary cats.

Tawnypelt’s mew interrupted his thoughts. “This water’s very cold.”

“It’s mountain water.”

“I can tell,” Tawnypelt meowed urgently. “My paws have gone numb!”

“Well, get out then.”

With a gasp of relief, she landed beside him and began shaking the water from her paws, scattering icy drops on his fur.

Jaypaw shivered and moved away; mountain winds and cold water were a bad mix. “Does your paw still hurt?”

“I can’t feel it at all,” Tawnypelt replied. She paused. “Actually, I can’t feel any of my paws.”

Squirrelflight was padding toward them. “Any better?”

“I think so,” Tawnypelt meowed.

Jaypaw felt his mother’s tongue lap his ear. “Are you okay, little one?” she asked gently.

He ducked away, scowling. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“It’s okay to be tired.” Squirrelflight sat down. “It’s been a hard journey.”

“I’m fine,” Jaypaw snapped. His mother’s tail was twitching, brushing against the gritty rock. He waited for her to make some comment about how much harder the journey must have been for him, being blind and all, and then add some mouse-brained comment about how well he had coped with the unfamiliar territory.

“All three of you have been quiet since the battle,” she ventured.

She’s worried about all of us! Jaypaw’s anger melted. He wished he could put her mind at rest, but there was no way he could tell her the huge secret that was occupying their thoughts. “I guess we just want to get home,” he offered.

“We all do.” Squirrelflight rested her chin on top of Jaypaw’s head, and he pressed against her, suddenly feeling like a kit again, grateful for her warmth.

“They’re back!”

At Tawnypelt’s call, Squirrelflight jerked away.

Jaypaw lifted his nose and smelled Hollypaw and Lionpaw.

He heard claws scrabbling over rock as Breezepaw arrived.

The hunters had returned.

“Let’s see what they’ve caught!” Tawnypelt hurried to greet the apprentices.

Jaypaw already knew what they’d caught. His belly rumbled as he padded after her, the mouthwatering smells of squirrel, rabbit, and pigeon filling his nose. If only it weren’t going to be given to the Tribe.

Crowfeather and Brambleclaw were already clustered around the makeshift fresh-kill pile. Stormfur and Brook hung back as though embarrassed by the gift.

“This rabbit’s so fat it’ll feed all the to-bes,” Squirrelflight mewed admiringly.

“Well caught, Breezepaw,” Tawnypelt purred.

Jaypaw waited for the WindClan apprentice’s pelt to flash with pride, but instead he sensed anxiety claw at Breezepaw.

He’s waiting for his father to praise him.

“Nice pigeon,” Crowfeather mewed to Lionpaw.

Breezepaw stiffened with anger.

“And look at the squirrel I caught!” Hollypaw chipped in.

“Did you ever see such a juicy one?”

“Come see!” Tawnypelt called to Stormfur and Brook.

The two warriors padded over.

“This will be very welcome,” Stormfur meowed formally.

“The Tribe thanks you.” Brook’s mew was taut.

Jaypaw understood their unease. By accepting fresh-kill, they were openly admitting their weakness. Hunting was poor in the mountains now that two groups of cats were sharing the territory. And yet Jaypaw could feel fierce pride pulsing from Stormfur. The mountain breeze stirs his heart as well as his pelt.

There was a core of strength within him, a resolve that Jaypaw had not sensed before, as though he were more rooted in the crags and ravines than he ever had been beside the lake. He truly believes that this is his destiny. The Tribe were Stormfur’s Clan now. He had been born RiverClan, and lived with ThunderClan, but now it seemed that he had found his true home.

Jaypaw shivered. The wind had been sharpened by a late-afternoon chill.

A howl echoed from the slopes far above.

Brook bristled. “Wolves.”

“We’ll get this prey home safely,” Stormfur reassured her.

“The wolves are too clumsy to follow our mountain paths.”

“But there’s a lot of open territory before you reach them,” Brambleclaw urged. “You should go.”

“We should all head home,” Crowfeather advised. “The smell of this fresh-kill will be attracting all the prey-eaters around here.”

Alarm flashed from every pelt as Jaypaw detected a strange tang on the breeze. It was the first wolf scent he’d smelled. It reminded him of the dogs around the Twoleg farm, but there was a rawness to it, a scent of blood and flesh that the dogs did not carry. He was thankful it was faint. “They’re a long way off,” he murmured.

“But they travel fast,” Brook warned. The rabbit’s fur brushed the ground as she picked it up.

“We’re going to miss you,” Squirrelflight meowed. Her voice was thick with sadness.

Brook laid the rabbit down again, a purr rising in her throat.

Her pelt brushed Squirrelflight’s. “Thank you for taking us in and showing us such kindness.”

“ThunderClan is grateful for your loyalty and courage,” Brambleclaw meowed.

“We’ll see you again, though, won’t we?” Hollypaw mewed hopefully.

Jaypaw wondered if he would ever return to the mountains. Would he meet the Tribe of Endless Hunting again?

He had followed Stoneteller into his dreams and been led by the Tribe-healer’s ancestor to the hollow where ranks of starry cats encircled a shimmering pool. He shivered as he recalled their words: You have come. They had been expecting him, and they had known about the prophecy! Yet again, Jaypaw wondered where the prophecy had come from, and how the Tribe of Endless Hunting were connected to his own ancestors.

“There’s no more time for good-byes!” Crowfeather’s mew was impatient.

“Take care, little one.” Brook’s cheek brushed Jaypaw’s before she turned to say good-bye to Hollypaw.

Stormfur licked his ear. “Look after your brother and sister,” he murmured.

“Bye, Stormfur.” Jaypaw’s throat tightened. “Good-bye, Brook.” He remembered the times when Brook had comforted and encouraged him. She had always seemed to understand what it felt like to be different. And Stormfur had never patronized him, but treated him with the same warmth and strictness as he had the other apprentices. He would miss them.

Lionpaw pushed in front of him. “Good-bye, Stormfur.

Show those invaders that a Clan cat is never beaten.”

“Good-bye, Lionpaw,” Stormfur meowed. “Remember that even though our experiences change us, we have to carry on.”

A rush of warmth seemed to flood between the warrior and apprentice, and Jaypaw realized with surprise that his brother shared a special bond with Stormfur, one he had not detected before. He stood wondering about it as his Clanmates began to head off down the slope, not moving when Stormfur picked up the freshly caught prey and started uphill after his mate.

“Stop dawdling!” Crowfeather nudged Jaypaw with his nose, steering him down a smooth rocky slope onto the grassy hillside.

Jaypaw bristled. “I don’t need help!”

“Please yourself,” Crowfeather hissed. “But don’t blame me if you get left behind.” He pounded ahead, his paws thrumming on the ground.

Imagine having such a sour-tongued warrior for a father. I’m glad I’m not Breezepaw!

“Hurry up, Jaypaw!” Lionpaw was calling.

Jaypaw sniffed the air. On this exposed slope it was easy to tell where the other cats were. Brambleclaw led the way downhill, Breezepaw at his heels, while Crowfeather had already caught up and was f lanking Tawnypelt, keeping to the outside of the group. Squirrelflight padded alone, while Hollypaw and Lionpaw trotted behind.

Jaypaw raced after them. The grass was smooth and soft beneath his paws. “It feels strange leaving them behind,” he panted.

“They chose to stay,” Crowfeather pointed out.

“Do you think we’ll ever see them or the Tribe again?”

Tawnypelt wondered.

“I hope not,” Crowfeather answered. “I don’t want to see those mountains once more as long as I live.”

“They might visit the lake,” Hollypaw suggested.

A howl echoed eerily around the crags far behind them.

“They have to get home safely first,” Lionpaw murmured.

“They will,” Brambleclaw assured him. “They know their territory as well as any other Tribe cat.”

Padding beside his littermates, Jaypaw caught the musty scent of forest ahead. Before long the ground beneath his paws turned from grass to crushed leaves. The wind ceased tugging at his fur as trees shielded him on every side. Hollypaw hurried ahead as though she already scented the lake beyond, but for a moment Jaypaw wished he were back on the open slopes of the foothills. At least there, scents and sounds were not muff led by the enclosing trees, and there was no undergrowth to trip him up. He felt blinder here in this unfamiliar forest than he ever had.

“Watch out!” Lionpaw’s warning came too late, and Jaypaw found his paws tangled in a bramble.

“Mouse dung!” He fought to free himself, but the bramble seemed to twist around his legs as if it meant to ensnare him.

“Stand still!” Hollypaw was racing back to help. Jaypaw froze, swallowing his frustration, and allowed Lionpaw to drag the tendrils from around his paws while Hollypaw gently guided him away from the prickly bush.

“Dumb brambles!” Jaypaw lifted his chin and padded forward, more unsure than ever of the terrain but trying desperately not to show it.

Wordlessly, Hollypaw and Lionpaw fell into step on either side of him. With the lightest touch of her whiskers Hollypaw guided him around a clump of nettles and, when a fallen tree blocked their path, Lionpaw warned him with a flick of his tail to stop and wait while he led the way up and over the trunk.

As Jaypaw scrabbled over the crumbling bark he couldn’t help wondering: Is the prophecy real y meant for a cat who can’t see?