Fading Echoes

Prologue

Trees whispered, branch to branch, above the lifeless forest floor. Mist wreathed their smooth trunks, pale as bone, and swirled through the night-dark forest. Above their branches, the sky yawned, starless and cold. There was no moon to cast shadows, but an eerie light glowed through the trees.

Paws thudded on the dead earth. Two warriors reared on their hind legs and launched themselves at each other, their bodies heaving and twisting like ghosts in the gloom. One brown. One black. Wind rattled the trees as the brown tom, his broad shoulders heaving, aimed a vicious swipe at his lean opponent. The black tom dodged, not taking his gaze from his rival’s paws for a moment, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

The brown warrior’s strike missed and he landed heavily, too slow in turning to avoid a sharp nip from the black tom. Hissing, he reared again, twisted on one hind paw, and lunged, his forepaws falling like rocks on the black tom’s shoulders.

The tom collapsed under the weight of the blow. Breath huffed from his mouth as his chest slammed against the ground. The brown warrior raked thorn-sharp claws along his opponent’s pelt, and his nose twitched as blood welled in the wound, scarlet and salty.

Quick as a snake, the black tom slithered out from his rival’s grip and began to swipe rhythmically with his forepaws, swaying one way then the other until the brown warrior flinched back. In that flinch—a single moment of distraction—the black tom sprang forward and sank his teeth deep into the warrior’s foreleg.

The warrior yowled and shook the tom off, his eyes flaming with rage. A heartbeat passed as the cats stared at each other, both gazes glittering with calculation. Then the black tom ducked and twisted, raking his way under the brown warrior’s snow white belly. But the warrior pounced on him before he could scramble clear, hooking his pelt with long, curved claws and pinning him to the ground.

“Too slow,” the brown warrior growled.

The black tom struggled, panic flashing in his eyes as his rival’s jaws began to close around his throat.

“Enough.” A dark tabby stepped from the shadows, his massive paws stirring the mist.

The cats froze, then untangled themselves. The brown warrior sat back on his haunches, one foreleg raised as though it hurt. The black tom scrambled to his paws, spraying droplets of blood across the forest floor as he shook out his fur.

“Some good moves, Hawkfrost.” The dark tabby nodded to the broad-shouldered warrior; then his gaze flicked to the black tom. “You’re getting better, Breezepelt, but you’ll need to be even quicker if you’re going to outfight stronger warriors. If you can’t match an opponent in weight, look to speed instead and use his weight against him.”

Breezepelt dipped his head. “I’ll work on it, Tigerstar.”

A fourth tom slid from the shadows. His silver stripes gleamed in the half-light as he wound around Tigerstar. “Hawkfrost can match any warrior,” he purred, smooth as honey. “There aren’t many cats with such skill and strength.”

Tigerstar curled his lip. “Quiet, Darkstripe!” he hissed. “Hawkfrost knows his own strengths.”

Darkstripe blinked. “I wasn’t—”

Tigerstar cut him off. “And there’s always room for improvement.”

A fifth cat slid from behind a tree, his night-colored pelt ragged against the smooth gray bark. “Hawkfrost depends too much on his strength,” he muttered. “Breezepelt too much on his speed. Together they would make a great warrior. Separately they are vulnerable.”

“Brokenstar.” Hawkfrost greeted the matted tabby with bared teeth. “Are we supposed to take advice from the warrior who failed to silence Jayfeather?”

Brokenstar twitched the tip of his tail. “I did not expect StarClan to fight so hard to save him.”

“Never underestimate your enemy.” Hawkfrost stretched his forepaw, wincing.

Breezepelt licked the deep scratches along his flank, his tongue reddening with his own blood.

“We must be ready,” Tigerstar growled. “It’s not enough to be able to beat one enemy at a time. We must train until we can take on a whole patrol single-pawed.”

Breezepelt looked up from his wound, his eyes flashing. “I can already beat Harespring and Leaftail in training.”

Tigerstar’s eyes darkened. “Training is one thing. Warriors fight harder when they’re defending their lives.”

Breezepelt clawed the ground. “I can fight harder.”

Tigerstar nodded. “You have more reason than most.”

A growl rose in Breezepelt’s throat.

“You have been wronged,” Tigerstar meowed softly.

Breezepelt’s young face looked kitlike in the gloom. “You’re the only ones who seem to realize that.”

“I have told you that you must seek vengeance,” Tigerstar reminded him. “With our help, you can take revenge on every cat who has betrayed you.”

Breezepelt’s gaze grew hungry as the dark warrior went on.

“And on every cat who stood by and did nothing while others claimed what was yours as their own.”

“Starting with Crowfeather.” Breezepelt snarled his father’s name.

Brokenstar swished his crooked tail through the air. “What did your father do to defend you?” His words were laced with bitterness, as though soured by his own memories.

Darkstripe slunk forward. “He never valued you.”

Tigerstar shooed the striped warrior back with a flick of his tail. “He tried to crush you, make you weak.”

“He didn’t succeed,” Breezepelt spat.

“But he tried. Perhaps he valued his ThunderClan kits more. Those three kits should never have been born.” Tigerstar padded toward the young warrior, his eyes gleaming, holding Breezepelt’s gaze like a snake mesmerizing its prey. “You have been suckled on lies and the weakness of others. You have suffered while others have thrived. But you are strong. You will put things right. Your father betrayed his Clan and betrayed you. Leafpool betrayed StarClan by taking a mate.”

Breezepelt’s tail was lashing. “I will make them all pay for what they have done.” No heat fired his gaze, only cold hatred. “I will have vengeance on each and every one of them.”

Brokenstar pushed forward. “You are a noble warrior, Breezepelt. You cannot live a life spawned on lies. Loyalty to the warrior code runs too strong in your blood.”

“Not like those weaklings,” Breezepelt agreed.

Hawkfrost was on his paws. “More practice?” he suggested.

Tigerstar shook his head. “There is something else you must do.” He swung his broad head around to face the warrior.

Hawkfrost narrowed his eyes to icy slits. “What?”

“There’s another apprentice,” Tigerstar told him. “She has great power. She must join us to make the battle even.”

“You want me to visit her?” Menace edged Hawkfrost’s mew.

Tigerstar nodded. “Walk in her dreams. Teach her that our battle is her destiny.” He flicked the tip of his long, dark tail. “Go.”

As the broad-shouldered warrior turned away and padded into the mist, Tigerstar growled after him, “You should have no trouble. She is ready.”