“No, no!” Lionblaze called to his apprentice. “If you climb up this side of the trunk I’ll see you and know you’re up there!”
Dovepaw slithered down the bark. The oak tree was shiny with rain. Drizzle had been soaking the forest all morning, the rainclouds so low that they seemed to drag over the treetops.
“Are you sure this is the right weather for a tree-fighting session?” Cinderheart queried. She was sitting beside her apprentice, Ivypaw. Both cats looked small, their fur plastered to their pelts.
“It’s the best weather,” Lionblaze insisted. “If they can cling to the branches when they’re slippery, they’ll find it mouse-easy when it’s dry.”
ThunderClan cats were the best climbers among the Clans because they hunted their prey among densely growing, thick-leaved trees; Firestar had recently decided that it was foolish not to take advantage of that skill in battle. From now on, all battle training would include tree-climbing practice, as well as techniques for attacking from among branches.
“Now climb up again,” he instructed Dovepaw. “Imagine I’m a ShadowClan patrol.”
Ivypaw’s whiskers twitched. “A whole one?”
“Concentrate!” Lionblaze was in no mood for silliness. He was hungry and wet and frustrated. What did training apprentices have to do with fulfilling the prophecy? Wait, Jayfeather had said. But Lionblaze was tired of waiting.
Cinderheart flashed Lionblaze a puzzled look. “I’ll guide them up the tree and tell them what to do,” she offered.
Lionblaze hesitated. He didn’t like the thought of Cinderheart climbing trees after the accident that had nearly crippled her as an apprentice.
She rolled her eyes. “We’ll be careful!” She nosed Ivypaw toward the trunk of the oak and watched her scoot up to the lowest branch. Then she nodded to Dovepaw. “You next.”
Dovepaw darted behind the trunk. She reappeared a few moments later on a branch above his head. “Didn’t see me that time!” she called.
He looked up, surprised by her speed. “Very good.”
Cinderheart was scrambling after them. “This is an excellent branch for dropping from.” She peered down at Lionblaze. “If you land squarely on his shoulders, he’ll break your fall, and the surprise will give you long enough to get in a few good moves before he realizes what’s happened.”
“Can I try it?” Ivypaw mewed eagerly.
“I doubt if he’d be very surprised,” Dovepaw pointed out. “He’s staring straight at us.”
“Let’s try climbing onto the next branch,” Cinderheart suggested.
“I’ll wander around,” Lionblaze offered.
“Concentrate on where your paws go,” Cinderheart warned the apprentices. Leaves rustled over Lionblaze’s head. “The bark’s slippery. Use your claws to grip. Watch out!”
Too late. Ivypaw slipped from the branch with a yowl of surprise and plunged down straight onto Lionblaze.
He staggered, hoping his broad shoulders had broken her fall. “Are you okay?”
She scrambled off him and jumped to her paws. “Sorry!”
The shock on her face brought a purr to his throat, banishing his frustration. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be surprised, not you!” he teased.
Pelt ruffling with embarrassment, Ivypaw scrabbled back up the tree.
“Careful, Dovepaw!” Cinderheart warned. “That branch is too narrow. It won’t hold your weight!”
Wood cracked high overhead.
Heart lurching, Lionblaze looked up. “Dovepaw!”
The gray apprentice was gripping a thin, broken branch halfway up the tree. “I can’t hang on!” she wailed. Her paws were sliding down the narrow strip of wood.
“Try to land on the branch below!” Cinderheart called up to her as Dovepaw reached the tip of the branch and tumbled down onto the next. She scrabbled for a grip, yelping as she fell again.
“Keep your claws out!” Lionblaze yowled.
“I am!” Dovepaw cried as she slid from branch to branch like a pebble bouncing down a slope. “I can’t get a grip.”
Lionblaze relaxed. The branches slowed Dovepaw’s fall until she plopped out of the tree like a pigeon landing clumsily. She stood up and fluffed out her fur.
Lionblaze shook his head. “When Jayfeather told me it was going to rain today, he didn’t warn me it was going to rain cats!”
Dovepaw brightened as she saw the glimmer of amusement in his eye. “I’ll do better this time,” she promised, dashing back to climb the tree once more.
Lionblaze padded away through the trees. He could hear the leaves rustling overhead as Cinderheart guided them from one branch to another.
While he was waiting for their “surprise” attack, he decided to hunt. With leaf-fall setting in, any extra prey would be welcomed in camp. He sniffed among the rain-soaked roots of the oak. Fresh squirrel dung made him wrinkle his nose. He climbed silently around the wide trunk, moving snakelike over the roots twining from the ground. The scent dipped between them and ran a few tail-lengths along a dried streambed fracturing the forest floor.
Lionblaze froze.
Rooting beneath the oak’s dripping branches was a fat gray squirrel. Its back was toward him and it was so intent on nibbling a nut that it didn’t even pause to sniff the air as Lionblaze dropped into a hunting crouch.
Whiskers stiff, tail just skimming the leafy ground, Lionblaze crept closer. A tail-length away he paused, waggled his hindquarters, and pounced. The squirrel struggled in his paws for a moment until he snapped its spine with a fast, clean bite. Pleased, he sat up with the fresh-kill hanging from his jaws.
A swish sounded above him. He looked up, his mouth full of squirrel fur. Two shapes dropped, landing one after another on his shoulders. He spat out the squirrel as his legs collapsed beneath him.
“We did it!” Dovepaw’s triumphant mew sounded close to his ear.
Lionblaze shook her off, letting Ivypaw slither from his back. “Deafening the enemy,” he meowed, his ears ringing. “Great strategy!”
Cinderheart scrambled down the trunk, looking pleased. “You didn’t have a clue we were up there, did you?” She glanced at the squirrel lying at his paws. “Nice catch, by the way.”
“Can we try it again?” Ivypaw begged.
“Why not?” Cinderheart flicked her tail back toward the trunk. “Up you go.”
Ivypaw leaped for the tree, but Dovepaw had stiffened and was staring, ears pricked, into the trees.
She’s heard something! Lionblaze could see anxiety darkening his apprentice’s eyes.
“You climb with Ivypaw,” he told Cinderheart quickly. “There’s a hunting technique I’ve been meaning to show Dovepaw.”
“Can I learn it too?” Ivypaw called.
“One at a time is easier,” Lionblaze lied. “I’ll show you another time.”
Ivypaw shrugged. “Okay.” She leaped up the trunk and disappeared into the branches with Cinderheart.
Beckoning with his tail, Lionblaze guided Dovepaw away from the oak. “What did you hear?” he demanded once he was sure they were out of earshot.
“Dogs!”
The fur rose along Lionblaze’s spine. “In the forest?”
Dovepaw shook her head. “In WindClan territory.”
“That’s okay. Twolegs use dogs to chase sheep up there,” Lionblaze explained.
But Dovepaw’s eyes were still round. “They’re not chasing sheep; they’re chasing cats.” She stared in alarm at Lionblaze. “We have to help them.”
“No.” Lionblaze was firm. “WindClan cats are used to it. Don’t forget they can outrun rabbits if they want. They’ll be fine.”
“But Sedgewhisker is one of the cats being chased!” She froze, her eyes suddenly wild. “One of the dogs has caught up to her! It’s biting her!”
Lionblaze stiffened. “Where are her Clanmates?”
Dovepaw frowned. “They’re with her…” She spoke slowly, describing the scene as it happened. “They’re attacking the dog.”
Lionblaze let out a sigh of relief. “Then Sedgewhisker will be safe.”
“How do you know that?” Dovepaw hissed.
Lionblaze’s heart sank. He’d been waiting for something like this to happen. Dovepaw was clinging to the friendships they’d made on the long journey; Sedgewhisker had traveled with them to destroy the beavers’ dam. Dovepaw had to understand that they were back in their own territories now. “We’re home,” he told her. “Your loyalty lies with your own Clan. You can’t be as close to Sedgewhisker or the others as you were before.”
Dovepaw stared at him. “Why not?”
“Because the warrior code tells us we shouldn’t make friends outside our Clan.”
Her blue eyes flashed. “How can you be so cold?”
“I’m not being cold!” Lionblaze insisted. “Things have changed.”
“I haven’t changed,” Dovepaw snapped. “I’m the same cat I was on the journey upstream.” She kneaded the ground with her front paws. “What’s the use of knowing what’s happening far away if I can’t do something about it?”
“Maybe you should figure out how to limit your senses to ThunderClan territory,” he suggested.
Dovepaw looked at him as though he’d grown another head. “The prophecy is bigger than the warrior code, right?”
Lionblaze nodded, wary of where she was heading.
“So my powers aren’t just for ThunderClan’s benefit, are they?”
“We’re ThunderClan cats,” he reminded her. “That’s where our loyalties should lie.”
Dovepaw glared at him. “So am I loyal to the prophecy, or the warrior code?” The fur fluffed around her ears. “You and Jayfeather had better make your minds up before I decide myself.” Without waiting for an answer, she pelted back to the oak and disappeared up the trunk after Cinderheart and Ivypaw.
Lionblaze watched her go, his heart sinking. He was only just beginning to understand Jayfeather’s abilities; now he was faced with another cat whose powers were beyond anything he could imagine. Stretching his ears, he strained to listen as hard as he could, but all he could hear was rain pattering on the dying leaves.
Ivypaw’s mew sounded from high in the oak. “This branch keeps bobbing in the wind.”
“Just hang on tight,” Cinderheart advised.
“It’s making me feel sick!”
Lionblaze’s own power was far simpler. He could fight in battles, unscathed, fearless and stronger than any opponent. Did that seem strange and frightening to his Clanmates? He knew Hollyleaf had always felt uncomfortable about his readiness to fight, as though she didn’t quite believe he wouldn’t get hurt.
But then, she had no power of her own. She was never one of the Three.
And he had been hurt once. Tigerstar had drawn blood in their last dream encounter. Lionblaze glanced behind him, the fur lifting on his shoulders. Was the dark warrior watching him now? Ferns swished beside him and he swung around, uncurling his claws.
“Sorreltail!” He couldn’t hide the relief in his voice. “Are you looking for Cinderheart?”
Sorreltail shook her head. “I’m joining Graystripe’s hunting patrol. Jayfeather just told me that my shoulder’s healed.” The tortoiseshell warrior had wrenched it a few days earlier when her paw had caught in a rabbit hole. “Is Cinderheart with you?” She followed Lionblaze’s gaze up to watch her daughter beckoning Ivypaw farther out along a branch. Cinderheart was balancing skillfully as the branch swayed beneath her paws.
Pride glowed in Sorreltail’s eyes. “I never thought I’d see the day when she’d be strong enough to climb trees like a squirrel.” She sighed gently and watched a moment longer before pulling her gaze away. “Leafpool healed her so well. She was a wonderful medicine cat.”
There was an edge to her mew. Did she blame Lionblaze for Leafpool’s decision to leave the medicine den and become a warrior? His pelt itched. It wasn’t his fault Leafpool had thrown everything away by breaking the warrior code! She was the one who’d had kits with a cat from another Clan and then lied about them!
He held his tongue as Sorreltail headed away; then, remembering Sedgewhisker, he called hopefully, “Where are you hunting?”
“By the WindClan border.”
Good. If the WindClan cats were really in trouble, the hunting patrol would notice; Graystripe could decide whether to help them or not.
As Sorreltail disappeared through a dripping wall of fern, Lionblaze scraped dirt over his catch and padded to the bottom of the oak. “How are you doing?” he called to his Clanmates.
“They’re doing very well.” Cinderheart landed lightly beside him, Ivypaw and Dovepaw dropping down after her. “I think we can try something harder.”
Ivypaw pricked her ears.
“Let’s teach them to cross from one tree to another,” Cinderheart suggested.
“Like squirrels!” Ivypaw squeaked.
“Yes, like squirrels.”
Lionblaze’s tail drooped. He wasn’t a natural climber. “We could teach them battle moves instead,” he suggested hopefully. “There are plenty they don’t know yet.”
“Firestar wants us to practice tree hopping,” Cinderheart reminded him.
We’re cats, not birds! Lionblaze always felt big and clumsy in trees. He’d rather be on the ground, fighting. Why sit up in the branches like a bunch of owls, watching the enemy, rather than tackling them head-on like warriors?
“Come on. Let’s start in this maple.” Cinderheart flashed him a determined glance. She knew he didn’t like tree climbing. “In the old territory, Longtail swears he once crossed from the Great Sycamore to camp without touching the forest floor.”
“How far was that?” Dovepaw sounded impressed.
“About the same as from here to the hollow,” Cinderheart meowed.
Lionblaze snorted. How do you know? Cinderheart had been born by the lake, like him. She had never seen the old territory!
“I bet I could do that,” Ivypaw boasted. She swarmed up the trunk of the maple, eyes half closed against the rain dripping down through the branches. Cinderheart followed, Dovepaw on her tail.
Lionblaze stared up, wishing that the rain would stop. It was going to be hard enough without slippery bark. Sighing, he heaved himself up the trunk, digging his claws deep into the bark to stop himself from sliding down.
Cinderheart was waiting on the lowest branch, while Ivypaw and Dovepaw were already halfway to the end.
“We won’t even have to jump this one,” Dovepaw reported over her shoulder. The branch wove into the lowest branches of a neighboring willow.
“Perhaps we should take a different route,” Lionblaze called to her. The willow had slender branches. “That might not take our weight.”
“Your weight, you mean!” There was a sharpness in Dovepaw’s reply. She was still angry with him for not helping Sedgewhisker. Lionblaze let it pass, though irritation pricked his pads.
Cinderheart nodded toward the willow. “It’s an old tree.” Dovepaw and Ivypaw had already crossed into its branches. “It’ll be strong enough.”
She was right. Lionblaze padded through its boughs easily, relieved to find them wide and sturdy. “Slow down!” he called. Dovepaw and Ivypaw were rushing on ahead, as though each wanted to be first to make it back to camp without touching the forest floor.
Dovepaw was balancing at the tip of the willow’s longest branch. An ancient oak sprouted beyond it, gnarled and twisted with age. “I’m going to try this one,” she mewed over her shoulder.
“The bark’s very rough,” Lionblaze warned. “It looks old. There may be cracks in the branches you can’t see.” He quickened his pace, leaping past Cinderheart. “Wait until I’ve checked it!”
Too late!
Dovepaw was already leaping onto a branch of the oak. It cracked as she landed, snapping like a dry twig, and, with a yelp, she plummeted downward.
It was only three tail-lengths to the soft forest floor and she landed on her paws. But Lionblaze knew what was coming next.
“Look out!” He leaped from the willow, skidding across the forest floor and grabbing Dovepaw by the scruff.
“What?” she squawked as he dragged her backward. A moment later the ancient oak branch came crashing down.
Lionblaze screwed up his eyes, shielding Dovepaw with his body. When the branch had stopped rocking he turned on her angrily.
“However much you think you know, sometimes I’m right, okay?” he growled.
Dovepaw lifted her nose and sniffed. Then she turned and stalked away.