Fading Echoes

Chapter 16

Trees in full leaf whispered gently in the breeze. Yellowfang hopped over a narrow stream that meandered through the long grass. Jayfeather followed, relishing the warm lushness underpaw after walking the dried-leaf floor of the forest. She led him through flourishing bushes that brushed their pelts with dew and pollen as they passed.

A meadow stretched ahead, graced by trees, flecked with flowers, aglow in the slanting sunlight. Warriors, sleek and content, walked through the long grass, or stretched in sunny hollows, their pelts soft in the sun. A tabby crouched, rump waggling, before pouncing after a plump mouse. A white cat with rose-tipped paws stretched up the cracked trunk of an ash tree and plucked happily at the bark while she watched a squirrel bobbing along a high branch. With a sudden bound she scooted upward and was swallowed by the fluttering leaves.

Jayfeather tasted the air. Half-familiar scents floated in the breeze: WindClan, ShadowClan, ThunderClan, and RiverClan.

“Hi, Silverstream,” Yellowfang purred to a gray tabby padding from a swath of ferns.

“Yellowfang.” The tabby nodded. “Have you seen Feathertail?”

“She was resting at Warm-rocks earlier.”

“Thanks.” Silverstream slid away through the grass, her tail-tip flicking.

Jayfeather narrowed his eyes. “No quarrels. No leaf-bare. No hunger,” he observed. “No wonder everyone seems so content.”

Yellowfang’s eyes darkened. “We never cease watching and worrying over those left behind.”

Jayfeather shrugged. “If this is where we’re heading, what is there to worry about?”

“No cat enjoys another’s suffering. And not every path leads here,” Yellowfang answered.

With a shiver, Jayfeather remembered where they were going.

Another familiar pelt caught his eye. Frighteningly familiar. Blazing ginger fur, large pricked ears, emerald gaze—the slender tom weaved through the bushes ahead. He seemed paler than the other cats, almost invisible. And yet he was there.

“Firestar?” Jayfeather breathed.

“Not quite,” Yellowfang mewed gently. “Five of his lives are here, but he won’t be able to hear or speak until his ninth life has joined us.”

Jayfeather watched the ghostly cat disappear behind an oak. Could Firestar feel his lives ebbing away? No. He shook off the thought. How could he stay such a strong leader if he did?

Jayfeather began to realize that other pelts were paler too. Some were so ghostly they hardly seemed there at all. More like mist than flesh.

“Are those cats half-dead too?” he asked Yellowfang as a wraithlike tortoiseshell crossed their path, hardly acknowledging Yellowfang’s greeting nod.

She shook her head. “They’ve been here a long, long time,” she explained. “So long that they’re forgotten.”

“By everyone?” The thought chilled Jayfeather.

“Being forgotten is nothing to fear. Not even the stars last forever. All cats fade and disappear eventually. They’ve earned their peace.”

Jayfeather imagined Yellowfang fading into nothing and was surprised to find grief pricking his heart.

“Don’t worry,” Yellowfang purred, as though she could read his mind. “Who could forget a cantankerous old badger like me?”

“Hey! Yellowfang!” A pretty tortoiseshell hailed them from the rocks above a waterfall churning above a sparkling brook. She leaped down, disappearing into the long grass for a moment before bounding up toward them.

Jayfeather recognized Spottedleaf at once. “Hi.” He dipped his head as she reached them and shook the grass seeds from her dappled pelt.

Her eyes were bright as stars. “Where are you going?” They dimmed as they met Yellowfang’s tough gaze.

“The Dark Forest.”

“You mustn’t!”

“We must.”

Jayfeather watched the exchange, tipping his head to one side. It was hard to tell which cat was most frightened, though both fought to conceal it. “Tigerstar is plotting against us,” he told her. “We have to find out what he’s planning.”

Spottedleaf bristled at the name. “Is it wise to go alone?”

“We have each other,” Yellowfang told her.

“I’m coming with you,” Spottedleaf decided.

Yellowfang flinched. “I don’t want to attract too much attention.”

Spottedleaf held the old cat’s gaze. “Firestar would never forgive me if I let anything happen to Jayfeather.”

Jayfeather lifted his nose. “I’m not helpless,” he objected.

Spottedleaf turned her amber gaze on him. “You’re going to find Tigerstar,” she reminded him. “Against that fiend, every cat is helpless.”

Jayfeather lashed his tail. “Then maybe it’s time for things to change!”

They padded through the trees, the lushness fading with every pawstep. The trunks grew thinner and smoother, the branches too high to reach. The sun faded from the sky, leaving white, eerie light that permeated the woods like water flooding through a reed bed. Jayfeather drew a breath of cold, damp air, tasted nothing but decay, and shivered. The grass had thinned and disappeared, and mist wreathed the bare forest floor. It rose and thickened, enfolding them in fog until Jayfeather realized with a tremor that he could no longer see Yellowfang’s thick, matted pelt or hear Spottedleaf’s soft tread.

Gulping air so thick that it made him cough, Jayfeather quickened his pace, hoping to catch up. He was too scared to call out, in case other ears heard him.

The ground grew peaty underpaw as he hurried into a trot.

Where are they?

His heart began to pound, the blood rising and roaring in his ears. He broke into a run.

Yellowfang! Spottedleaf!

He couldn’t see. The mist was choking him. This was worse than running blind through ThunderClan territory. He bolted through the trees, paws tripping on a gnarled root snaking across his path. Pain seared his leg but he raced on. A yowl echoed through the fog, and paws began to thunder on the ground behind.

Someone was chasing him.

He pushed on harder, weaving around trees, cutting so close that they ripped at his fur. The pawsteps were gaining on him, rhythmic, powerful, pounding the forest floor in his wake.

Panic seized him. He was hardly breathing now, just running.

Crash!

Shock rang through him as he hit a tree. It sent him reeling, chest first, into a puddle. Twisting onto his back, he saw a figure looming over him, a broad face leering down through the mist.

“No!” His voice cracked into a whimper.

“It’s Yellowfang, you mouse-brain!” The she-cat grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him to his paws.

Spottedleaf came skidding to a halt beside them. “You found him,” she puffed.

Yellowfang was trembling with rage. “We have to stay together!” she hissed.

Jayfeather had seen her cranky, but never this furious. That was when he realized how frightened the tough old she-cat was.

He nodded, gulping for air.

“Come on.” Yellowfang began to head away, then paused to make sure that Jayfeather and Spottedleaf were following. They padded through the sucking mud until the fog began to clear.

Jayfeather recognized the trees, the eerie light, the echoing silence. He’d met Tigerstar here once before. Spottedleaf had come and guided him home that time. She wasn’t pleased to be back in the Place of No Stars now, her pelt pricking, her eyes stretched wide. But it was Yellowfang who was really afraid.

Jayfeather glanced nervously at the tattered old she-cat. He’d never imagined she could be scared of anything. But there was a stiffness in her movements that betrayed real terror. He probed her mind.

A flash of panic flooded him. A hulking, dark-furred cat stalked her thoughts. The glow of bright red berries like drops of blood. Searing grief and fury.

Curiosity enticed him on, further into her thoughts. No! He must concentrate on where he was. There was enough danger without losing himself in another cat’s nightmare.

Jayfeather jerked his head as he heard rustling in the sparse undergrowth, the pattering of paws. He glanced questioningly at Spottedleaf.

She shook her head. “No prey here.”

Jayfeather’s fur rippled, chilled by the gaze of watchers in the shadows. He scanned the trees. Eyes glowed from the gloom.

Jayfeather drew closer to Spottedleaf. “Who are they?” he whispered.

“Cats, dead and long forgotten,” Spottedleaf murmured. “Ignore them.”

How? Jayfeather could feel menace in their stares, their minds haunted by evil beyond the reach of every memory but their own.

Yellowfang paused and tasted the air. “We have to find Tigerstar and figure out what he’s up to.”

Spottedleaf blinked. “You think we’re going to stumble over him plotting?” She narrowed her eyes. “He knows this forest too well. He’ll know we’re here long before we find him.”

Jayfeather headed along a trail weaving between the gray, whispering trees. “We’ve got to try. Otherwise, why did we come?” He smelled tom. The scent was darkly familiar, but he couldn’t tell which Clan it belonged to. He glanced over his shoulder, checking that Yellowfang and Spottedleaf were close behind.

Spottedleaf’s mouth was open, her nostrils twitching.

“Can you smell that?” he whispered.

“Wait!” Yellowfang was staring wildly into the trees. “Let’s go back. We can’t do any good here.”

Jayfeather shifted his paws. What was spooking the old cat so much?

“Hello.” A deep growl sounded on the path ahead. Jayfeather jerked his head around.

A huge black cat blocked the way. “What are you doing here?”

Jayfeather froze, the scent of the tom stirring his memory. Where had he met this warrior? He lifted his chin bravely, preparing to answer the tom’s question.

Then he realized that the cat wasn’t talking to him. The warrior’s hard amber gaze was fixed on Yellowfang.

At once Jayfeather found himself plunged into a whirl of memories. Yellowfang yowling as she kitted, squirming in the shadows, hiding from her Clan. A small bundle of fur dropping into another cat’s nest—a queen who did not care for her new charge, who bit it and nipped it and deprived it of milk as punishment for being born at all. Then the kit, fully grown. Brokenstar. The name blazed in Jayfeather’s mind. A strong, well-muscled warrior, fattened by his own hunting skill, as hungry for power as a fox was for rabbit. The death of a leader and darkness descending over a Clan in chaos. Then suddenly he saw Yellowfang again, powerful now; the warrior weak, blind, battered, imprisoned, but still with the murderous glint in his eye. Through Yellowfang’s eyes Jayfeather watched the cat struggle as she forced him to eat deathberries, saw him convulse and die, swearing hatred and vengeance. He felt searing guilt slice through his heart: the guilt of a queen who had brought such a monster into the world. The guilt of a mother who had driven him from it.

I murdered my own son!

Shuddering as he drew in a deep breath, Jayfeather struggled out of the nightmarish visions and back into reality.

This was Brokenstar. Yellowfang’s kit!

The cat was staring at his mother with cold contempt, his bared yellow teeth glinting in the eerie light.

Jayfeather backed away, pressing against Yellowfang’s pelt. “You were his mother?” he breathed. “But you were a medicine cat!”

Yellowfang dragged her gaze from her son and stared at Jayfeather. “Mistakes happen,” she growled.

Jayfeather flinched away. Mistakes happen? Is that how she sees me?

Spottedleaf’s sweet breath brushed his ear fur. “You weren’t a mistake, Jayfeather. Your mother always loved you.” She glanced at Brokenstar. “You were always loved, Jayfeather.”

Brokenstar hissed, “What do you want?”

Jayfeather opened his mouth, reaching for something to say. But his mind still whirled with everything he had seen and learned about Yellowfang in those few moments of shared memory.

I trusted her!

She was no better than Leafpool!

Spottedleaf pushed past both of them and faced Brokenstar. “What are you doing?” Her mew was commanding.

Brokenstar looked at her as if he had only just noticed she was there. “Nothing.”

“I’m talking about training the cats from the Clans by the lake,” she pressed.

Brokenstar blinked, his eyes softening into enticing pools. “Training cats by the lake?” Brokenstar’s mew rang with the innocence of a kit. “Why would we do that?”

Spottedleaf refused to be swayed. “That’s what we want to know.”

Brokenstar swept his tail behind him. “Look around,” he purred invitingly. “Explore a little.”

Jayfeather found himself following the warrior’s gaze as it flitted over the dank, gray trees and wreaths of mist.

“See as much of my home as you like,” he urged.

“Okay.” Spottedleaf took a step forward but he blocked her.

“But of course,” he murmured sweetly, “if I let StarClan see the Dark Forest, then StarClan must allow me to visit their hunting grounds.” He showed his teeth. “Isn’t that only fair? Surely the warrior code would expect it.” His mouth twisted into a sneer.

Yellowfang leaped forward and crouched, bristling, in front of him. “That will never happen!”

Brokenstar shrugged. “Then you can’t come any farther into my territory.”

He turned away.

Jayfeather leaped after him, hackles up.

“No!” Spottedleaf blocked his attack, shouldering him away. “It’s not a fight you would win,” she insisted, holding his gaze.

Disappointed, Jayfeather nodded. She was right. If only Lionblaze could come here!

“Come on.” Spottedleaf turned and gently nosed Yellowfang back along the path. The old cat’s eyes stared blankly ahead of her. Jayfeather had no wish to probe her thoughts now. Her eyes showed nothing but pain.

They padded along the path until Brokenstar had faded into the mist behind them.

Jayfeather stumbled suddenly as Spottedleaf nudged his shoulder. Bundling him off the path, she pushed him into the low verge of wilting gray ferns. Yellowfang halted and stared around, confused.

“Over here!” Spottedleaf hissed at her.

Bewildered, Yellowfang slid in beside them. “What are you doing?”

“Go home,” Spottedleaf ordered. “You’re no help to us while Brokenstar is around. He clouds your judgment.” She touched her muzzle to the old cat’s shoulder. “Go back to StarClan,” she murmured, “where you are loved.”

Yellowfang blinked at her and sighed. “Very well.”

“If we don’t return,” Spottedleaf added, “send a patrol for us.”

Yellowfang nodded. “I’ll wait for you by the waterfall.” She nosed her way through the ferns. “Be careful!”

“We will,” Spottedleaf promised. She led Jayfeather farther from the path, weaving through the dank undergrowth, only half-visible in the mist.

Jayfeather kept close, his paws wet and cold as he padded over the sticky earth.

Water murmured ahead of them as they crept from the ferns. A sluggish river heaved its way through the forest, its waters dark and lifeless.

Spottedleaf scanned the bank. No fallen tree spanned the water. No rocks dotted its course. Jayfeather shuddered. He hoped she wasn’t going to suggest they swim across.

“Look!” she hissed.

There were figures moving among the trees, beyond the water. Half-shrouded in mist, warriors gathered.

“Always aim for the throat.” A shadow-pelted tabby was lecturing the others. He grasped a wiry brown tom, hooking his claws into his ragged fur and hurling him to the ground. “See?”

The tom struggled helplessly as the tabby ran a claw along his throat. Blood rose in its trail.

Jayfeather felt Spottedleaf stiffen beside him. “Darkstripe,” she breathed.

The tabby turned and stared in their direction.

Jayfeather ducked, his heart pounding as Darkstripe blinked.

“It’s okay; he hasn’t seen us,” Spottedleaf whispered.

A low growl set Jayfeather’s pelt on end. Hawkfrost padded from the shadows, knocking Darkstripe away from his victim. “Concentrate on what you’re doing!” He grabbed the bleeding tom and shoved him back toward the line of watching cats.

The brown tom shook himself and lapped at his wound.

Hawkfrost snarled. “Worry about your pelt later!”

The tom stopped midlick and stared at Hawkfrost with rounded eyes.

“You wanted to learn some killing moves!” Hawkfrost hissed at him. “Stop acting like a frightened kit and listen.” He turned to a skinny white tom who was watching with half-closed eyes. “Come here, Snowtuft!”

Warily the white tom crept forward.

“Are you ready to learn?” Hawkfrost sneered.

Eyes glinting, Snowtuft nodded. “That’s why I’m here,” he spat.

“Good.” Hawkfrost lunged and grasped Snowtuft by the throat. Lifting him with powerful paws, he spun around to face the others. “Shredtail, come here!”

As Snowtuft’s paws churned helplessly in the air, a dark brown tabby crept forward.

“Slice his belly open,” Hawkfrost growled.

Shredtail’s eyes gleamed with blood-hunger.

Jayfeather’s breath quickened. Bile rose in his throat. “No!” he breathed. “The warrior code would never allow such vicious battle moves.”

Spottedleaf dug her claws into the earth. “These cats have always lived outside the code.” Her mew was thick with disgust. “They were rogues within their Clans. They are rogues now. That’s why they’re here. They never deserved to be called warriors.”

Foul breath stirred the fur on Jayfeather’s spine. “You’re wrong.”

The two cats spun around.

Tigerstar sat in the middle of the trail, staring at them, his eyes lazy with contempt. “There’s no code to say what can and can’t happen here.” His gaze flicked to Hawkfrost. “It’s your world that’s restricted by petty rules and expectations.”

Anger surged through Jayfeather. “A true warrior’s heart needs no rules! It can do no evil!” he blurted.

Amusement lit Tigerstar’s amber gaze. He turned to Spottedleaf. “Don’t you just love his innocence?”

Spottedleaf straightened. “It’s goodness, not innocence.”

“Do good cats creep around and spy on others?”

A low growl rumbled in her throat. “They do when there is no other way to find out what’s going on.”

Tigerstar’s eyes rounded. “You could have just come to me and asked whatever you wanted to know.”

“Very well.” Jayfeather sat up, forcing his trembling shoulders to relax. “Why are you training cats from the Clans?”

Tigerstar gazed around the forest. “I see no Clan cats here.” Then he fixed Jayfeather with a look so cold, Jayfeather had to sink his claws into the ground to stop his legs from shaking. “The only Clan cats here are you two. And you’re trespassing.” His foul breath washed over Jayfeather’s muzzle as he leaned closer. “Which makes you the only cats here breaking rules.” He blinked. “Didn’t Brokenstar order you to leave?”

How does he know that?

“Why bother training these cats in killing blows?” Spotted leaf glared at Tigerstar.

The warrior flicked his tail. “Why not?”

“You’re already dead!”

Tigerstar shrugged. “That’s no reason to lose our fighting skills.”

Jayfeather let out a low hiss. “What do you need fighting skills for here?” he challenged.

“Once a warrior, always a warrior,” Tigerstar purred.

Spottedleaf took a step forward. “You gave up the honor of being a warrior in the heartbeat you decided to kill Bluestar!” she snapped. “You can’t steal warriors from the Clans and turn them against their own Clanmates!”

“Really?” Tigerstar lifted a paw and unsheathed his claws. “Says who?”

Jayfeather thrust his muzzle into Tigerstar’s face. “We do!”

Tigerstar batted him away.

Jayfeather huffed as he hit the floor, wincing at the pain burning his ear. He scrambled to his paws and faced Tigerstar again. There was no way Jayfeather was going to let this dead warrior think he was scared to fight him.

“Don’t bother,” growled the dark warrior. “It’s a fight you can’t win.” He turned away. “Now get out of here before I pass you over to my friends for practice.”

“Come on,” Spottedleaf whispered. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

Jayfeather hurried after Spottedleaf, gagging as Snowtuft’s agonized yowl rang through the trees behind them.