Hawkwing’s Journey

Chapter 13

Dew still gleamed on the grass and soaked into Hawkwing’s pelt as he brushed through it, following Waspwhisker on the dawn patrol.

Pale light seeped between the branches, though the forest floor still lay in shadow, with ragged scraps of mist floating among the trees.

Though Leafstar had still not appeared from Echosong’s den, she had given orders to Sharpclaw that the boundaries of SkyClan’s territory should be extended. Hawkwing assumed she thought that a new barrier might deter the raccoons; he wished that he could feel confident that she was right.

Waspwhisker was leading the patrol, with Hawkwing, Darktail, Bellapaw, and Sparrowpelt. They had hardly left the camp when Hawkwing realized that Waspwhisker was in a bad mood, and he seemed to be taking most of it out on Darktail.

“For StarClan’s sake!” the gray-and-white tom hissed. “Can’t you walk a bit more quietly? You sound like you’ve got rocks instead of paws.”

“Sorry,” Darktail muttered, casting his eyes downward and clearly making an effort to set his paws down more lightly.

Waspwhisker gave the white tom a cold look from narrowed eyes, but said no more until Darktail sneezed.

“Good job, Darktail,” Waspwhisker snapped. “You might as well just call out to all the prey, ‘Watch out for cats!’”

Darktail’s head swung up, and for a moment Hawkwing thought that he would snap back at Waspwhisker. Then he simply nodded, and mewed that he really would try to be quiet.

Bellapaw exchanged a glance with Hawkwing. “What’s wrong with Waspwhisker?” she murmured. “He’s being way too hard on Darktail.”

Hawkwing shrugged. “I don’t know. M aybe he doesn’t want

Darktail here anymore.”

For his own part, Hawkwing was impressed that Darktail was managing to keep his temper. I don’t think I could, if Waspwhisker spoke to me like that.

His feelings of sympathy brought him back to the problem he had been struggling with ever since he had seen Darktail carrying food from the Twolegplace the day before. Should I report him or not?

So far he had said nothing, partly because he couldn’t be sure that Darktail was up to no good, and partly because Leafstar and Sharpclaw had too much on their minds after the raccoon attack to worry about something that might be completely unimportant.

For now, I’ll just keep a close eye on Darktail, Hawkwing decided, and see what he does next.

So far, the rogue tom had done nothing else suspicious, and he was doing his best on this patrol, in spite of Waspwhisker’s hostility.

Along with his uneasiness about Darktail, Hawkwing’s mind was full of memories of his brother. Seeing the evidence of the fire wiped away from the Twoleg greenplace had brought all his grief flooding back. In a way, it was like wiping Duskpaw away too.

Is it true, what Sharpclaw said about Darktail? Hawkwing wondered. That I’m trying to make him into my replacement brother? His first instinct was to deny it, but then he asked himself whether it would be such a bad thing if it was true.

Duskpaw is gone, and isn’t ever coming back, he told himself, claws of pain gripping his heart again as he put the thought into words. But cats need other cats in the wild. Surely it’s good that I’ve made new bonds with other cats like Darktail, and… and Pebblepaw.

Fresh confusion surged into Hawkwing’s mind as he thought about the young she-cat. He felt as though he was trying to find a path through fog. I hated her not long ago… so why am I thinking about her so much now? I blamed her for Duskpaw’s death. Why do I hope she missed me when I was away on the second quest?

“Stop!” Waspwhisker’s urgent hiss broke into Hawkwing’s thoughts. “Lie flat!”

Instantly obeying, Hawkwing flopped to the ground, his Clanmates doing the same around him, and peered out through the long grass. Every hair on his pelt began to bristle as he braced himself for trouble.

Are the raccoons back?

But when Hawkwing tasted the air, the only scent that he could pick up came from cats. Unfamiliar cats. Just ahead he spotted a bank of ferns, their fronds waving as unseen animals pushed their way through.

A heartbeat later the fern fronds parted and a powerful silver-gray tom strode into the opening. A long-furred black she-cat followed him, and behind her was a ginger tom, and two tabby she-cats. Their pelts were ragged, but muscles rippled beneath their ungroomed fur; apprehension fluttered in Hawkwing’s belly as he saw how dangerous they looked.

What are they doing on our territory? he asked himself.

All Hawkwing’s instincts told him to leap out of hiding and challenge the approaching rogues. Instead, he glanced at Waspwhisker. “We should fight them off!” he whispered.

“Wait,” Waspwhisker ordered curtly. Turning to Darktail, he added, “Are these more friends of yours?”

Darktail shook his head, looking mystified. “I’ve never seen any of them before.”

By this time the leading silver-gray tom had drawn level with the clump of long grass where the SkyClan cats were hiding. He halted to sniff the air, and Hawkwing realized he had picked up the Clan cats’ scent.

Before the tom could react, Waspwhisker rose to his paws and faced him. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he demanded.

The silver-gray tom looked Waspwhisker over with insolent green eyes. “Who wants to know?” he asked.

“We do.” Hawkwing rose to stand beside Waspwhisker, while

Bellapaw, Darktail, and Sparrowpelt took up positions just behind them.

“And who are you, mange-pelt?” the silver-gray tom sneered, as the rest of the rogues spread out threateningly on either side of him.

“We are cats of SkyClan,” Waspwhisker replied, “and you’re on our territory. It’s time for you to leave. Now.”

“Oh, we’re on their territory!” the black she-cat exclaimed, stretching her eyes wide. “I’m so scared!”

“Are you going to leave or not?” Waspwhisker’s shoulder fur bristled up aggressively.

The silver-gray tom slid out his claws and raised one forepaw to examine them. “I guess… not,” he mewed.

“So get out of our way,” one of the tabby she-cats ordered.

Anger flashed in Waspwhisker’s eyes, and he let out a ferocious yowl. “Attack!”

Hawkwing hurled himself at the ginger tom, who was closest to him. His paws splayed out, he landed on the tom’s shoulders and dug his claws in hard. Screeching in fury, the ginger tom let himself drop to the ground and rolled over, crushing Hawkwing beneath him. For a few heartbeats Hawkwing’s nose and mouth were muffled in his enemy’s pelt, so he could hardly breathe. Bringing up his hind legs, he thrust at the ginger tom and managed to throw him off.

“Ugh!” he gasped, spitting out fur. “I’ve got a mouthful of your fleas!”

The ginger tom crouched in front of him, green eyes glaring, his hindquarters waggling, while his tail lashed from side to side.

Hawkwing was bracing himself to meet his pounce when he spotted Sparrowpelt behind the ginger tom, struggling with the long-furred black she-cat. The she-cat had Sparrowpelt pinned down, her teeth aiming for his throat.

Bunching his muscles, Hawkwing sprang right over the ginger tom and barreled into the black she-cat, thrusting her away from Sparrowpelt.

The older warrior staggered to his paws. “Thanks!” he panted, and flung himself back into combat, driving the black she-cat backward, paw step by paw step.

Hawkwing glanced around, and spotted Bellapaw chasing one of the tabby she-cats back into the bank of ferns. Waspwhisker and the other tabby she-cat were rolling around on the ground in a snarling tangle of tails and paws.

Then Hawkwing’s eyes widened in amazement as he saw

Darktail whirling around the silver-gray tom, darting in to slash at him and immediately leaping back out of range. The tom kept trying to face him and attack, but Darktail was moving so fast that by the time the gray tom managed to strike at him, he had moved on. The tom’s claws barely touched him.

“Flea-pelt! Trespasser!” Darktail yowled. “Get out of here!”

A hard blow caught Hawkwing on the side of the head, driving him off his paws. As he hit the ground a surging darkness covered his vision, and as it cleared he glimpsed green eyes close to his own. A paw clamped down on his neck.

To Hawkwing’s horror he realized that, distracted by Darktail’s skillful battle technique, he had forgotten about the ginger tom. He writhed furiously, desperate to throw off the weight that was holding him down. Twisting his neck, he tried to sink his teeth into the ginger tom’s leg.

Just then, a loud caterwaul sounded in Hawkwing’s ears. “Back off! Run!”

The weight on top of him abruptly vanished. Hauling himself up, Hawkwing saw the two remaining she-cats fleeing for the ferns, with the ginger tom hard on their paws. The silver-gray leader, still yowling his orders to retreat, brought up the rear. Darktail, charging after him, managed to get in a couple of blows on the tom’s hindquarters before he vanished into the undergrowth.

Waspwhisker huffed out a long breath. “Cowards!”

Hawkwing was surprised that the fight had ended so quickly.

He had thought that the two groups were well matched, and he had never imagined that the rogues would give up so easily.

But Darktail showed their leader a thing or two, he reflected.

That mange-pelt couldn’t stand up to him!

Hawkwing watched the final quivers of the ferns as the rogues beat a retreat, then turned to Waspwhisker. “Are you still doubtful about Darktail?” he asked. “Look how bravely he fought!”

Waspwhisker let out a grunt. “That was well fought,” he mewed, with a nod to Darktail. “But if the rogue had moved a bit faster, what would you have done then? He’d have had you at his mercy.”

Darktail looked up from grooming his shoulder, where a tuft of fur had been torn away. “I’d worry about that if it happened,” he replied calmly.

Waspwhisker turned away with a single twitch of his tail, showing he was still unconvinced. Hawkwing let out a growl of annoyance at the older warrior’s grudging praise of the cat who had probably won them the battle, then instantly regretted it.

Waspwhisker was a good mentor to Duskpaw, he told himself.

I don’t want to fight with him. I just wish some of my Clanmates would give Darktail a break.

M eanwhile, Waspwhisker was looking over the rest of the patrol, checking them for injuries. Every cat was carrying a few scratches, but none of them was badly injured.

“Right, let’s finish marking the border,” he growled. “And then we’ll get back to camp and report this.”

Padding along the new border with his Clanmates, Hawkwing’s mind went back to his earlier decision not to mention that he had seen Darktail leaving Twoleg food on SkyClan territory.

He fought so well against the rogues, he thought. He can’t mean any harm to SkyClan. Maybe I should just ask him what it was all about.

“Darktail,” he began, falling in beside the white tom, “I saw you yesterday near the Twolegplace.” No need to let him know I followed him there. “It looked like you had some Twoleg food…”

Darktail gave him a sidelong glance, half guilty and half amused.

“I’ve been around a few kittypets in my time,” he admitted. “And

I kind of got a taste for Twoleg scraps. Don’t tell any cat, will you? I think Waspwhisker would claw my ears off!”

“Uh… no. But that doesn’t explain why you left—”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about those rogues,” Darktail interrupted, as if he had dismissed the whole question of the Twoleg food. “I wonder if there are any more of them around.

M aybe Leafstar should set a watch.”

As Darktail moved on with the patrol, Hawkwing stopped and raised his head to sniff the air, catching a sweetish, rotting smell coming from the edge of a nearby bramble thicket. He bounded over to take a look, and spotted more Twoleg food there, crumbling away into pieces as if the flesh it was made of had been clawed into tiny scraps and then somehow mashed back together. It was beginning to rot; Hawkwing guessed that it had been there for two or three days.

“Hey, Darktail, have you seen—” Hawkwing began, but as he turned he realized that while he was investigating the Twoleg food the rest of the patrol had moved on.

Hawkwing picked up the pace to catch them up, and found

Darktail chatting amiably to Bellapaw. Pleased that for once

Darktail was having a friendly conversation with a SkyClan cat, Hawkwing didn’t interrupt.

There’s no point, he told himself. What’s a bit of Twoleg food?

Every cat would think I had bees in my brain if I made a fuss about it.