Hawkwing’s Journey

Chapter 17

Hawkwing’s heart was beating hard, pounding loud in his ears in spite of the rain that thrummed against the ground with relentless strength. Everything seemed unreal, and as he flung himself back into the battle he felt as if each move was taking place in slow motion.

The powerful long-furred she-cat leaped toward him, and he felt as if he had all the time in the world to extend his claws and slice them through her black pelt into her shoulder. Another rogue attacked him from the side; Hawkwing automatically dodged his swipes and drove him off with two swift blows around his ears.

Hawkwing fought on with the battle moves ingrained in him through moons of SkyClan training, but he was barely aware of the strikes he delivered or the ones he received. All he could think of was the look of utter surprise on Sharpclaw’s face at the moment that Darktail struck him down. And Darktail had looked so cold and calculating.

I can’t believe I felt so close to that vile cat! I even thought he might help to make up for losing Duskpaw! But Darktail was never anything like my brother!

The storm raged on, matching the storm in Hawkwing’s heart.

Raindrops bounced off the ground, gathering in puddles that spread and flowed into one another. The ground was slippery, and it was hard to see through the sheets of driving rain.

Through the chaos, Hawkwing spotted Patchfoot close to the cliff wall, locked in combat with a skinny ginger rogue. He began splashing over there to help the elder. Patchfoot had reared on his hind paws, pinning the rogue against the rock face, but just as he was poised to strike, his hind paws slipped in the mud and he fell.

With a yowl of triumph the ginger rogue fell on him, biting and scratching. Patchfoot let out a choking gasp of pain.

Putting on a burst of speed, Hawkwing flung himself at the rogue and drove him back, landing a couple of blows on his hindquarters as the rogue turned and fled. Then he turned toward Patchfoot, only to realize with a fresh shock of grief that the old cat was dead, his limbs stretched out as rain flowed through his pelt.

Hawkwing let out a growl of pure fury. Close by he spotted Clovertail and Fallowfern fighting with two more of the rogues, and began to rush toward them. But before he reached them, he was distracted by a panic-stricken screech from the cliff above his head.

“Help us!”

Looking up through the rain, Hawkwing managed to make out a knot of cats fighting outside the nursery. He recognized M intfur and Birdwing, bravely holding their own but outnumbered by three rogues who were steadily driving them away from the nursery entrance.

They want to hurt the kits! Hawkwing realized. They’re striking at the heart of our Clan!

“I’m coming!” he yowled, launching himself up the trail.

As he drew closer, Hawkwing could hear the thin wails of M intfur’s four terrified young kits, and the stronger voices of Birdwing’s three, who were almost old enough to be apprenticed.

“We can fight!” Curlykit called out. “We’ll protect the young ones!”

“We’ll claw any rogue who comes in here!” Fidgetkit agreed, while Snipkit simply let out a threatening growl.

Hawkwing raced upward and realized after a few paces that another cat was following hard on his paws. Afraid that a rogue was chasing him, he paused to look back and saw that it was Pebblepaw. Her speckled fur was plastered to her body by the rain, but thankfulness surged through Hawkwing as he realized she was unhurt.

There was no time to talk. Hawkwing sped up the trail with Pebblepaw behind him, until they reached the ledge outside the nursery and fell on the rogues from behind.

Hawkwing swatted at the nearest attacker, a black-and-white tom, with both forepaws, pushing him off the ledge to fall shrieking into the gorge. Pebblepaw dug her claws into the hindquarters of a huge ginger tom and clung there as he twisted around, trying to get at her. Hawkwing slashed at his ears, and with a wail of fear the rogue tore himself away and fled up the trail to disappear over the cliff top. The third rogue was a gray she-cat; Hawkwing faced her, his lips drawn back from his teeth in a threatening snarl. He was aware of Pebblepaw at his side; faced with the two of them, the rogue backed away slowly, then suddenly turned tail and headed back down into the gorge.

“So much for them!” Pebblepaw panted, a note of triumph in her voice.

Hawkwing gave her an admiring glance. She’s so brave, he thought, reflecting on how well they fought together.

“Thank you!” Birdwing exclaimed. “We were so afraid for the kits.”

“We wouldn’t have let them in here.” Curlykit’s voice came from the mouth of the den. All three of Birdwing’s kits were crouched there, claws extended from their tiny paws, their eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“Well done; you’re very brave,” Hawkwing meowed. Turning to Pebblepaw, he added, “Stay here and help protect the nursery.”

He half expected Pebblepaw to argue, but she responded with a brisk nod. “You can count on me, Hawkwing.”

Satisfied that he had done the best he could for the two queens and their litters, Hawkwing headed down the trail again. At the foot he spotted Rileypaw and Bellapaw, struggling with two much bigger rogues. One of them had Rileypaw pinned down, and was about to sink his claws into the young tom’s throat.

Hawkwing leaped to the top of a boulder, just above Rileypaw and his attacker, and hurled himself onto the rogue’s shoulders, thrusting him away from his Clanmate. As soon as he was freed, Rileypaw scrambled to his paws and went to help Bellapaw.

Hawkwing cuffed the rogue around the ears until he stumbled away, squealing, then turned to see the two littermates driving off the second attacker.

“Thanks, Hawkwing,” Rileypaw gasped. “I thought I was dead for sure.”

“Are you both okay?” Hawkwing asked.

Though Bellapaw and Rileypaw both bore the marks of the rogues’ claws, they simply nodded. “Fine,” Bellapaw mewed.

“Then go and help the elders.” Hawkwing angled his ears toward Clovertail and Fallowfern, still locked in their struggle with the massive rogues. Clovertail looked to be at the end of her strength, but she was still striking out bravely.

The two young cats bounded off, and Hawkwing spotted Sandynose limping toward the foot of the cliff with Plumwillow, who was leaning on him heavily. Blood streamed from the gray she-cat’s shoulder.

“She’s hurt!” Sandynose gasped. “And she’s expecting kits.”

“I’m so slow,” Plumwillow confessed, breathing hard. “I’m off-balance somehow.”

For the first time Hawkwing noticed Plumwillow’s rounded belly. “Take her up to the nursery,” he meowed to Sandynose.

“You can help protect the kits.”

Sandynose nodded, looking relieved, and began guiding his mate up the trail.

Hawkwing’s whole body tensed with horror as he looked around the camp and realized how badly the battle was going for SkyClan. The bodies of his Clanmates were strewn on the ground between the cliff and the river; he couldn’t tell whether they were dead or only injured. Between the darkness and the storm, with every cat plastered in mud, it was becoming harder still to tell friend from foe.

“Retreat! SkyClan, retreat!”

Leafstar’s voice yowled out into the night; Hawkwing turned and saw her standing on top of the Rockpile. Her voice rang out once more; then she leaped down and vanished into the darkness.

We’ve lost, Hawkwing thought, a dark mist of sadness and disbelief swirling around him. Our leader is giving up the gorge.

At Leafstar’s order the SkyClan cats began to stream out of their camp. Hawkwing froze for a moment as he watched them scatter in all directions, disappearing into the night and the pouring rain.

He thought again of his mother’s words: I’m afraid that if we are driven into exile again, SkyClan may be lost forever. And here they were, about to be driven out of their home. Can it really be over so quickly?

Still, Hawkwing didn’t question his leader’s decision. He would follow her order. Forcing his limbs into motion, Hawkwing fled with his Clanmates, heading downstream, but after a few paces he halted and looked back.

Darktail stood on top of a boulder in the middle of the camp, a terrible expression of triumph on his face. His white pelt was clotted with blood.

Sharpclaw’s blood… the blood of my Clanmates.

With horror, Hawkwing realized that Darktail was staring straight at him. He froze, panting and full of rage. He thought of how Darktail had asked him to stay with him in the gorge—right after he’d delivered the killing blow to Sharpclaw! I’m nothing like you! he thought fiercely. He desperately wanted to fling himself on Darktail and claw that look of triumph from his face, but he knew this wasn’t the time. Instead, he tore his gaze away and raced out of the camp, his heart ready to break from anger and pain.

He remembered now how proud he’d felt to bring Darktail back to camp from the ashes of the fire. He’d truly believed he might be the “spark that remains,” or might have helped SkyClan find it. I brought Darktail here. I trusted him, and all the time he was deceiving us. He wanted to take away everything we cared about… and he has. But I was the cat who started it all. It’s my fault we’ve lost the gorge. Darktail might have been his killer, but still, it’s my fault that Sharpclaw is dead.

Hawkwing fled blindly, not stopping until he came to the riverbank and realized that he had reached the patch of scrub and small trees where he had hunted with Sharpclaw and Darktail in what felt like another life. At first he thought he was alone, unsure where the rest of his Clan had gone.

Are we all scattered? Is this the end?

Rain was still driving down, and the river was running high and strong, sweeping twigs and debris down with it as it rolled between the banks. Hawkwing had to strain to see anything in the darkness.

Then Hawkwing heard voices coming from farther downstream.

Heading in that direction, he spotted Birdwing’s three kits trying to cross the river over a set of stepping-stones. Curlykit was urging them on; there were no adult cats in sight.

“Stop! It’s too dangerous!” Hawkwing yowled.

But the kits seemed not to hear him through the rain and the roar of the river, launching themselves on the perilous crossing.

Hawkwing bounded toward them, and realized as he drew closer that there were other cats on the far bank. He could just make out their shadowy shapes and hear their meows, though he couldn’t distinguish what they were saying. From their voices, Hawkwing thought they might be Echosong and Pebblepaw, but there was no sign of Birdwing or the kits’ father, Sagenose. He understood now why the kits wanted to cross the river, but they were still in terrible danger.

By the time Hawkwing reached the stepping-stones, all three kits were well on the way across; Curlykit, in the lead, was more than halfway. Hawkwing began to follow. He was more frightened still for the kits when he felt the slick surface of the stones with the river water lapping over them. Oh, StarClan! Don’t let them slip!

Curlykit reached the far bank and was hauled to safety by a cat who Hawkwing could now see was Pebblepaw. Fidgetkit followed, leaping up the bank by himself and turning, ready to help his remaining littermate.

Hawkwing thought that Snipkit looked exhausted. She was moving slowly, hesitating before she leaped from one stone to the next. Her legs were wobbling. Hawkwing speeded up, not bothering to check his balance as he sprang from rock to rock. At each landing he felt his paws shift under him, and only pushing off for his next leap saved him from falling.

Before Hawkwing could reach Snipkit, her paws slipped as she tried to jump. She fell short, letting out a terrified wail; her forepaws scrabbled at the next stone, but she couldn’t get a grip.

She fell with a splash, her eyes wide with disbelief as the current quickly swept her away.

Instantly Hawkwing plunged into the river. “Snipkit! Snipkit!” he yowled, desperately peering into the darkness in the hope of spotting the drowning kit.

The fierce current dragged at Hawkwing, and soon he was struggling desperately simply to stay afloat. “Don’t swim after her!” he gasped to the frantic cats on the bank. “It’s too—”

Water flowed into Hawkwing’s mouth, cutting off his warning.

His head went under and he lost all sense of direction; surging black water was all around him.

I’m going to die, he thought, and then his next thought surprised him: Maybe that’s best. If I survive, I’ll have to face Cherrytail and the others, and live with the guilt of knowing that I brought Darktail into the Clan.

In his mind, Hawkwing once again saw his father’s terrible death, murdered while he had looked on, powerless to help him. If I drown, I’ll never have to remember that again.

Then, as Hawkwing felt himself begin to spiral away into darkness, he imagined his father’s brilliant green gaze fixed on him.

“M y son is not a coward!” Sharpclaw meowed.

The memory of his father’s faith in him filled Hawkwing with new energy and determination. He began to fight again, his legs churning the water, until abruptly his head broke the surface.

Coughing, he forced himself to keep paddling until he felt the gravelly bottom of the river under his paws and managed to stand.

With water streaming from his pelt, he staggered ashore, as Pebblepaw came bounding over to him, followed by Echosong, Curlykit, and Fidgetkit.

“This way!” he choked out, pointing downstream with his tail.

He forced his aching legs into motion to race downstream, scanning the rolling current for any sign of Snipkit. Pebblepaw ran beside him, the others less than a tail-length behind.

“Snipkit! Snipkit!” Every cat was calling for her, but there was no reply, and nothing to see in the night and the rain.

Eventually Hawkwing staggered to a halt, and Pebblepaw collapsed to the ground beside him.

“It’s no use,” Pebblepaw gasped. “We have to stop.”

The two remaining kits came limping up with Echosong.

“We can’t just leave her!” Curlykit protested. “We have to find her!”

“It’s too dark,” Echosong mewed gently. “We could easily miss her if we carry on. We’ll look for her in the morning, I promise.”

Curlykit and Fidgetkit exchanged a glance; Hawkwing could tell that they wanted to be reassured, but they were still doubtful.

Their wide eyes glimmered in the gloom and their flanks were heaving as they fought against their grief. Hawkwing could see how desperately they were trying to be brave.

He knew how they felt. Little as he wanted to admit it, even to himself, he thought that probably Snipkit was already dead.

A wave of anger surged through Hawkwing, so hot that he stopped shivering and dug his claws fiercely into the ground.

Another death because of Darktail! If he hadn’t attacked, Snipkit would be tucked up safely in the nursery. She wouldn’t have had to try to cross this angry river in a rainstorm late at night.

Exhausted, the five cats headed into the undergrowth and trampled down a clear space among ferns for a makeshift den.

Echosong and Pebblepaw settled the kits, licking their fur the wrong way to dry them off and make them warm. Hawkwing thought about keeping watch, in case any of Darktail’s rogues should come marauding down the riverbank, but his exhaustion was too strong. Letting himself relax, he fell into a bottomless pit of sleep.

It was still dark when Hawkwing awoke. At first he couldn’t work out what had changed; then he realized that he couldn’t hear the rain drumming on the leaves above his head. There was only the distant roar of the river, and close by a steady drip of raindrops falling from the bushes.

His Clanmates were still asleep, Echosong and Pebblepaw curled around the two kits. Careful not to wake them, Hawkwing rose to his paws and slid out into the open.

I need to think. Somehow we have to find the rest of our Clanmates, and make a plan to take the gorge back.

Sadness overwhelmed Hawkwing as he realized how much had changed. This damp refuge on the riverbank was so different from his nest in the warriors’ den. He couldn’t even begin to imagine where the rest of the Clan might be, or even whether they were still alive.

The faces of his dead Clanmates passed in front of him. His father, Sharpclaw, who had died a hero’s death at the claws of a traitor. Bouncefire, the traitor’s first victim. The elder Patchfoot, always cheerful, always ready with a story for the kits and apprentices. Stormheart, who had almost certainly been killed at the very beginning of the attack.

Probably Snipkit, Hawkwing thought sadly, and probably more, too. I saw cats fall, but I couldn’t tell if they were wounded or dead.

And now every cat is scattered.

He whipped around at a faint sound of movement behind him, then relaxed as he saw Pebblepaw sliding between the ferns to sit at his side. She leaned against him, and Hawkwing was grateful for the warmth she gave.

“I feel so responsible for this,” Hawkwing told her, putting words to his terrible burden of guilt for the first time. “If I hadn’t trusted Darktail, if I hadn’t brought him into SkyClan—”

“You couldn’t have known,” Pebblepaw interrupted, resting her tail-tip on his shoulder.

“But I should have! Sharpclaw had his doubts about him, and I should have listened to him! Great StarClan, I had my own doubts.

If I hadn’t ignored them, none of this would have happened. It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Pebblepaw’s warm tongue rasped comfortingly around Hawkwing’s ear. “You’re a very young warrior, Hawkwing.

If Leafstar and the senior warriors hadn’t agreed, Darktail and Rain would never have been allowed in the camp. Every cat made the mistake of trusting them.”

Hawkwing wanted to believe Pebblepaw, but he was finding it hard. The sharp pang of his guilt was too painful.

“There’s something that frightens me,” he confided to her.

“Darktail wanted me to join him and stay in the camp. He thinks we’re alike. What if that’s true?”

Pebblepaw let out a snort of disgust. “How can you believe such a pile of mouse droppings? You’re brave and loyal, Hawkwing, a true SkyClan warrior. Did you fight for your Clan back there?”

“Well… yes,” Hawkwing murmured reluctantly.

“And did it even occur to you to betray them?”

“No!”

“Then what makes you think you’re anything like Darktail?”

Pebblepaw challenged him. “You would never plot against cats who had been kind to you.”

As she spoke, Hawkwing began to feel his burden grow a little lighter. She’s right. Yes, I made mistakes, but I will make up for them. I will be as brave and loyal as Pebblepaw thinks I am, and I’ll protect my Clanmates’ lives with my own.

Nestling closer to Pebblepaw, Hawkwing felt a wave of gratitude to her. Terrible things have happened, but at least she is by my side. I’d like her by my side for always. Looking into her eyes, shining in the darkness, he couldn’t help feeling a tiny sliver of warmth.