Lost Stars

Chapter 8

The ground under the holly bush was almost free from snow, but Rootpaw still felt wet and miserable as he huddled underneath the branches beside Dewspring. His mentor was testing him by making him recite the warrior code, but Rootpaw was finding it hard to remember.

I can’t think of anything but how cold and hungry I am!

Even so, Rootpaw had to admit that SkyClan was lucky to have its camp in this sheltered valley. He had seen for himself, when he was recovering in their camp, how much harder life was for the cats of ThunderClan.

“And what does the code tell you to do when you catch prey?” Dewspring asked.

His words made Rootpaw think of sinking his teeth into a nice juicy mouse. His jaws watered. “Eat it,” he replied.

Dewspring sighed. “We give thanks to StarClan for its life,” he mewed. “And then we carry our prey to the fresh-kill pile. The Clan must be fed first.” His tail-tip twitched in irritation. “Rootpaw, even a kit knows that! You have to concentrate.”

“I do know it,” Rootpaw grumbled, annoyed with himself. “But it’s hard to concentrate when my belly thinks my throat’s torn out.”

“I know.” Now Dewspring sounded more sympathetic. “We’ll hunt later. For now, tell me what your first duty will be when you’re made a warrior.”

“Keep vigil for—” Rootpaw began, only to be distracted as he saw Frecklewish and Fidgetflake emerge from Leafstar’s den in the gap at the base of the Tallrock, followed by the Clan leader herself and her deputy, Hawkwing. They padded across the camp toward the medicine cats’ den, their heads together as they talked, and halted a few tail-lengths away from the holly bush where Rootpaw and his mentor were crouching.

“. . . but it still worries us both that we can’t get in touch with StarClan” were the first words Rootpaw heard, from a clearly anxious Fidgetflake.

Rootpaw’s jaws gaped in astonishment. He managed a shocked “Wha—” before Dewspring silenced him with a tail slapped over his mouth.

Frecklewish nodded. “Nothing like this ever happened back in the gorge. Even when StarClan wasn’t sending us any visions or signs, we always felt that they were with us. It’s different here,” she finished sadly.

“I keep wondering if leaving the gorge and coming here has weakened our connection to our ancestors,” Fidgetflake continued. “Did we make the wrong choice?”

Leafstar sighed heavily. “Hawkwing and I, and the whole Clan, made the choices we thought were necessary. I don’t believe our warrior ancestors will abandon us forever.”

“But what happens when a cat dies?” Fidgetflake asked, alarm in his voice and his wide eyes. “They’re supposed to go to StarClan. And what if a leader were to die right now, when the connection to StarClan seems lost? Would they be able to come back? Would a new leader get their nine lives?”

“I don’t think a leader is likely to die,” Hawkwing pointed out. “None of them are sick, and we’re not at war with any Clan.”

“That’s true. Fidgetflake, you shouldn’t worry so much,” Leafstar meowed briskly. “The only danger we have to face right now is this leaf-bare.”

“But that’s bad enough,” Frecklewish murmured, so softly that Rootpaw could only just make out her words.

“So, you’re going to show me your herb stores,” Leafstar went on, beginning to move away again. “If you think there’s any hope of finding more, we’ll send out a patrol. Which cats would be best at searching, do you think?”

The group moved on, and if Frecklewish replied, Rootpaw couldn’t hear her. He exchanged a dismayed glance with Dewspring. “StarClan is lost?” he exclaimed, hardly able to believe what he had just heard. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Not get our tails in a twist,” Dewspring responded. “Whatever the problem is, we can rely on Leafstar, Hawkwing, and the medicine cats to guide us through it.”

Even though he spoke so confidently, he had a worried and distracted air, and Rootpaw could guess that he didn’t believe his own words. He wants to reassure me, but he’s just as anxious as I am.

“But we—” Rootpaw began.

“Enough of lazing around under this bush,” Dewspring interrupted with forced cheerfulness. “It’s time to go hunting and bring back something for the fresh-kill pile.” He rose and led the way into the open.

Even though Rootpaw sprang eagerly to his paws and followed his mentor, he knew it would be a long time before he could forget the conversation he had just heard.

Fresh snow had fallen overnight, still almost unmarked except for the paw prints of the patrols. Here and there Rootpaw spotted the thin scratches of a bird’s claws, but no tracks of mice, rabbits, or squirrels. He couldn’t pick up the least trace of any prey-scent.

“I guess they’re all huddled in their holes,” he meowed, discouraged.

“We just have to keep trying,” his mentor responded. “Let’s go down to the lake.”

As they headed in that direction, Dewspring suddenly darted aside into a patch of undergrowth where overhanging fronds of bracken had protected the ground from the worst of the snow. He emerged a moment later with a shrew dangling from his jaws.

“Great catch!” Rootpaw exclaimed.

“No, it’s a skinny thing,” Dewspring mewed, setting it down at the edge of the patch and scratching earth over it, ready to collect it later. “But it’s better than nothing. Thank you, StarClan, for this prey,” he added with a sigh.

Rootpaw wondered whether StarClan could hear him. Even if they could, did they care whether a hunter thanked them? But he knew better than to voice his doubts. He followed Dewspring as his mentor continued, but his hopes of catching something himself were rapidly fading.

The trees were thinning out as they approached the lake, the wider stretches of open ground leaving even less space for prey to hide. Rootpaw’s legs were getting so tired, each paw step was an effort.

How much longer is Dewspring going to keep us out here, looking for prey that isn’t there?

Then, as Rootpaw rounded a clump of hazel bushes, the lake came into view. His eyes widened as he spotted a huge crow, pecking at the ground on top of the slope that led down to the waterside.

Yes!

Instantly Rootpaw dropped into the hunter’s crouch. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Dewspring raise his tail as if to stop him, then take a step back, leaving the prey to his apprentice. Rootpaw gulped, realizing how important this moment was.

I have to make this kill. I have to get food for my Clan!

Paw step by paw step Rootpaw edged forward. The crow had its back to him, moving slowly away as it pecked among the debris at the foot of a beech tree. The wind was blowing from the crow to Rootpaw, so there was no chance that his scent would alert it. His heart pounded as he drew gradually closer.

This bird is so big and scary—but it would be such great prey to take back to SkyClan!

At last Rootpaw halted, barely a tail-length away from his prey. He waggled his hindquarters, then pushed off in a mighty leap and landed on the crow’s back with a thump. For a few heartbeats the crow struggled, its wings a black storm around Rootpaw’s head, its talons flailing. Rootpaw bit down hard on the back of its neck, and it suddenly collapsed and lay limp on the ground, the breeze from the lake ruffling its feathers. Rootpaw stared down at it, hardly able to believe that he had caught it.

Dewspring came bounding up, his eyes shining. “Hey, that was amazing!” he exclaimed. “Well done, Rootpaw. You were brave to take on a bird as big as that. It just goes to show you have a talent for hunting.”

In spite of the cold wind, Rootpaw felt warm from ears to tail-tip at his mentor’s praise. “I thought it would fly away for sure,” he confessed, then added conscientiously, “Thank you, StarClan, for this prey.”

“We’d better get back to camp,” Dewspring meowed. “Are you sure you can manage to carry that?”

“I’ll be fine,” Rootpaw responded proudly, imagining what his Clanmates would say when he brought back such a magnificent addition to the fresh-kill pile. Let Kitepaw and Turtlepaw try sneering at that!

Dewspring led the way to the spot where he had left his shrew and collected it before heading back toward the SkyClan camp. Rootpaw followed, dragging the crow along between his legs, staggering a little from the weight.

They had almost reached the camp when Rootpaw spotted his father sitting in the snow at the edge of a bramble thicket. Tree was so still that snow had drifted over his back, almost covering his yellow pelt. Rootpaw hoped that his mentor wouldn’t spot him, but at the same moment Dewspring halted.

“What is your father doing?” he asked Rootpaw.

Rootpaw’s pride in his catch was swallowed up in embarrassment; he felt as though his fur were on fire. “Dunno,” he muttered. “Just sitting there, I guess.”

Dewspring looked confused. “Well . . . er . . . I suppose he wasn’t brought up in a Clan,” he mewed, clearly trying hard not to say something insulting. “He must have his own ways. But I wouldn’t want to be out here, getting snowed on.”

Rootpaw guessed that his mentor was looking at Tree and wondering if this strange cat, who did everything differently and sometimes took other Clans’ sides in disputes, was truly loyal to SkyClan.

Why does Tree have to be so peculiar? Rootpaw asked himself, wishing he could be like Needlepaw and just brush off their father’s strangeness.

Completely humiliated, struggling to think of something he could say to Dewspring, Rootpaw spotted movement in the snow. A vole was scurrying toward Tree, who lazily stretched out a paw and slammed it down on top of the little creature.

Dewspring’s tail curled up in amusement. “Hey, he’s hunting!” he exclaimed. Padding over to Tree, he dipped his head and added, “That’s a cool trick! Can you teach me?”

Rootpaw had to admit that his mentor was right. But he still wished that Tree would catch prey using the normal warrior hunting moves.

Tree blinked up at Dewspring. “Sure I can,” he replied, his voice a friendly purr. “It’s not hard. All you have to do is think bush.”

Dewspring looked confused. “‘Think bush’?”

“Yeah, imagine your legs are branches and your claws are twigs,” Tree explained.

“And my ears are leaves, right?” Dewspring meowed, with a wry glance at Rootpaw, who staggered up, dragging his crow.

“You got it,” Tree told him. “Then you have to keep really still, and the prey will come to you.” He picked up the vole and added it to a small pile beside him; Rootpaw saw that he had already caught a mouse and a shrew.

His happy pride returned a moment later as Tree spotted his crow and asked, “Rootpaw, did you catch that?”

It was Dewspring who replied, a look of approval on his broad gray face. “He did, all by himself. He’s going to be an amazing hunter.”

Rootpaw looked up at his father to see the same approval gleaming in his eyes. “That’s great to know,” Tree meowed. “Good job, Rootpaw.”

“We’d better be getting back to camp,” Dewspring continued, as Rootpaw basked in the older cats’ praise. “The sun will be setting soon.”

For the first time Rootpaw noticed that the shadows of the trees were lengthening, blue against the snow. The short leaf-bare day was drawing to an end.

“I’ll come with you,” Tree meowed, gathering his prey together.

Dewspring leaned in and picked up the shrew. “Here, let me help carry.”

On the way back to the camp, Rootpaw didn’t feel too embarrassed anymore in his father’s presence. Tree had caught several pieces of prey. But he realized he would have felt differently if his father had just been sitting there, freezing to death while he pretended to be a bush.

The rest of the Clan gathered around the hunters as they pushed their way through the camp entrance and into the clearing.

“Rootpaw, did you really catch that?” Needlepaw exclaimed, staring at the ragged feathers of the crow. “That’s amazing!”

His mother, Violetshine, said nothing, but her eyes were warm with praise, and she padded beside Rootpaw on the way to the fresh-kill pile, and leaned toward him to give his ears a loving lick. Even Leafstar, standing beside the pile with Hawkwing and Reedclaw, gave him an approving nod.

“The Clan will eat well tonight,” she mewed.

Rootpaw ducked his head; he felt embarrassed all over again, but this time he enjoyed the feeling, because he had earned the respect of his Clan. He could see that the fresh-kill pile was bigger than it had been for many days, and no cat in the Clan would go hungry.

“Why don’t you take some prey to Fallowfern,” Dewspring instructed him. “Then you can come back and eat.”

“Yes, take her this vole,” Tree added, pushing the body of his prey over to Rootpaw. “It’s pretty plump, considering it’s leaf-bare.”

Rootpaw willingly agreed, picking up the vole and bounding across the camp to set it down in front of the deaf elder, who was sitting outside her den with her paws tucked under her.

“Thank you,” Fallowfern meowed, swiping her tongue around her jaws. “That looks tasty!”

On his way back to the fresh-kill pile, Rootpaw halted as Turtlepaw stepped out in front of him. “That was an awesome catch,” she mewed. She couldn’t quite meet Rootpaw’s gaze, and he was surprised at how shy she sounded.

“I was lucky, that’s all,” he responded.

Kitepaw was standing a couple of paces behind Turtlepaw, and Rootpaw braced himself for some mocking remark, but the reddish-brown tom said nothing, only giving Rootpaw a respectful nod as he followed him and Turtlepaw to join the rest of the Clan.

By now, most cats had settled down to eat, but no cat had taken Rootpaw’s crow. “We’re leaving that for you,” Tree meowed, flicking his tail toward Rootpaw’s prey. “There’s enough to eat for every cat, and you might as well enjoy your first big catch.”

“You can choose some cats to share it with,” Dewspring added.

Rootpaw nodded eagerly. It’s great to be able to feed my Clanmates! He beckoned Needlepaw with his tail, then turned more hesitantly toward Kitepaw and Turtlepaw. “Would you like some?” he asked, trying not to feel nervous.

“Thanks!” Turtlepaw meowed, crouching down beside the crow.

Kitepaw looked surprised, but gave Rootpaw a nod of thanks and sat beside his denmate, sinking his teeth into the crow. “Where did you find this?” he mumbled.

“Down near the lake,” Rootpaw replied, sitting next to Needlepaw and tearing off a chunk of prey. “Not far from the border with ThunderClan.”

Turtlepaw nodded. “That’s a good place,” she agreed.

Needlepaw gulped down a mouthful. “Dewspring must have been pleased,” she mewed.

“He was,” Rootpaw replied. “I was beginning to think he’d always be disappointed in me.”

“Most mentors are like that,” Turtlepaw assured him. “You should have heard Blossomheart when I first became her apprentice. I thought I would never do anything right!”

Rootpaw felt warmed by the older apprentices’ friendliness, as if something had suddenly changed. Maybe they’re not so bad after all, he thought.

“You know,” Kitepaw began, “I was impressed by you, that day you fell through the ice. It was a brave thing to do, standing up for yourself and attacking me like that. Stupid,” he added, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes, “but brave.”

Suddenly happy, Rootpaw let out a small mrrow of laughter. He had made a lucky catch to feed his Clan, he might just be beginning to make friends with Kitepaw and Turtlepaw, and even Tree was being slightly less embarrassing than usual. For the first time he began to believe that this terrible leaf-bare would soon pass, and every cat would be fine.