Thunder Аnd Shadow

Chapter 16

Twigpaw paced the edge of the clearing, her pelt fizzing with excitem ent. The dawn patrol had already left, and the sun prom ised warmth as it lifted over the m isty forest. Ivy pool was in the medicine den, asking Jayfeather for traveling herbs. They would leave soon.

She could still hardly believe that Ivy pool had suggested they search for her mother. At the Gathering last night, Twigpaw had barely heard the Clans bickering. She was tired of their dum b argum ents. All any cat seem ed to care about was prophecies and rogues. No one cared that her mother might be out there som ewhere, searching for her lost kits.

And then, on the trek back from the island, Ivy pool had asked her what was worry ing her.

“Your mind hasn’t been on y our training for a half-moon,” she’d mewed softly.

Twigpaw had hesitated about confiding in her. Would her m entor think it was selfish to still be worry ing about her mother after the Clan had done so much for her? But Ivy pool had understood.

“Every cat needs kin,” Ivy pool had said. “One day I hope the Clan will feel like y our kin. But if you need to find out about y our mother, I’ll help y ou.” The silver-and-white she-cat had suggested they set out first thing in the m orning. Bramblestar had agreed reluctantly, after Ivy pool had prom ised they’d be careful.

Now, as she waited to leave, she listened to Squirrelflight giving orders below the Highledge.

“Check for rogue scent near the ShadowClan border.” She nodded to Cloudtail and Thornclaw.

“Poppy frost and Berry nose can go with y ou.”

“Can I go too?” Fernsong blinked at her eagerly. “I haven’t been on a border patrol for day s.”

Squirrelflight shook her head. “I want you to travel with Ivy pool and Twigpaw. Will you go?”

“On their mission to find Twigpaw’s mother?” Fernsong glanced across the clearing at Twigpaw, his eyes sparkling. “Of course!”

Twigpaw felt a surge of happiness. Fernsong was coming with them! This was turning into a real Clan mission. Just like the one Bramblestar should have sent in the first place.

Squirrelflight frowned. “It’s a long j ourney,” she warned Fernsong. “I want every one back safely.”

Cloudtail flicked his tail. “Is there any point in traveling so far? Surely there’ll be no trace of Twigpaw’s mother now. It’s been so long.”

Ivy pool padded from the medicine den as he spoke. She glared at the white warrior.

“Twigpaw has hope. It’s a risk, but what if she’s right? We have to look.”

Poppy frost tipped her head thoughtfully. “But if Squirrelflight’s search party didn’t find her, how do you hope to?”

Ivy pool fluffed out her fur. The hollow was chilly where the sun hadn’t y et reached it.

“Twigpaw might notice som ething Squirrelflight’s party didn’t.”

Twigpaw felt a surge of gratitude toward her m entor. She was glad there was one cat in the Clan who believed in her. She scowled at the medicine den. She still resented Alderpaw for his part in ly ing about the quest to find her mother.

The brambles at the entrance twitched. Alderpaw padded out, a bundle of herbs in his jaws.

He crossed the clearing and dropped them in front of Twigpaw. “Jayfeather say s you and Ivy pool have to eat all of them.” He separated the pile into two.

“Fernsong’s coming with us,” Twigpaw told him. “He’ll need herbs too.”

“Fernsong?” Ivy pool j oined them, surprise lighting her eyes. “I thought we were going alone.”

“Squirrelflight just asked him,” Twigpaw told her happily. “You don’t m ind, do y ou? It’ll be like a real mission.”

“Of course I don’t m ind.” Ivy pool glanced warm ly at Fernsong as he headed toward them.

Alderpaw frowned. “It’ll be dangerous.”

Twigpaw sniffed. “You m ade the j ourney when you were younger than m e.”

“Yes.” Alderpaw looked thoughtful. Then his gaze brightened. “I should come with y ou!”

Twigpaw stared at him. “Why? You think m y mother’s dead.” Did he just want to come so he could say I told you so? Or did he want to justify stealing her from her nest before her mother could return? She pushed the thoughts away. Alderpaw wouldn’t do that.

“I know where the nest was.” As he gazed hopefully at Ivy pool, hope trem bled along

Twigpaw’s spine. He was right! He could lead them straight to it. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

Ivy pool blinked at him. “It would be great to have you show us the way.”

Fernsong stopped beside her. “When are we leaving?”

“As soon as you and Alderpaw have gotten som e traveling herbs from Jayfeather,” Ivy pool told him. “We’ll have to make sure he’s all right with Alderpaw j oining us, too.”

“Alderpaw’s coming too?” Fernsong purred. “Great!” He headed for the medicine den, Alderpaw on his heels.

Ivy pool caught Twigpaw’s ey e. Her gaze was somber. Unease pricked Twigpaw’s belly. “You know we m ay not find any thing, right?” Ivy pool warned.

Twigpaw swallowed. “Yes.” But at least I’ll know I tried, she thought. I’ll know somebody tried. She reached down and lapped up the leaves, wrinkling her nose as their bitterness shriveled her tongue.

Ivy pool shuddered and licked her lips, finishing her pile. “Well, we’ll have plenty of energy.”

Fernsong and Alderpaw hurried from the nursery. Alderpaw looked pleased. “Jayfeather say s it’s all right for m e to go.”

Fernsong’s pelt was prickling. “Traveling herbs are the worst!” He stuck out his tongue.

Ivy pool purred and nudged him toward the entrance. “Hopefully they’ll give you enough strength to protect us. That is why y ou’re coming, isn’t it?” There was a tease in her mew.

Fernsong looked at her, whiskers twitching. “I was hoping y ou’d protect m e.”

“If y ou’re nice to m e, I might,” Ivy pool purred.

The warriors headed for the entrance, their pelts brushing am iably.

Twigpaw followed, feeling awkward beside Alderpaw. It had been so long since they’d spoken properly ; it would be weird traveling with him.

“How long will it take to get there?” she asked, avoiding his gaze.

“We should reach the Thunderpath tom orrow if we keep m oving.”

Twigpaw felt suddenly daunted. “Will we have to travel all night?”

“We’ll find som ewhere to rest tonight.” Alderpaw ducked through the entrance. “And if we wake early, we’ll be there before sunhigh tom orrow.”

Twigpaw followed. Half excited, half anxious, she followed Alderpaw up the rise that led toward the lake. The ground squelched beneath her paws. Newleaf warmth was slowly softening the forest. Green buds clung in a haze to the trees, and bey ond them stretched a pale blue sky.

“I hope we find her, Twigpaw.” Alderpaw’s mew was gentle as he waited for her to catch up.

She blinked at him and saw warmth in his eyes. He really means it. The anger that had sat like ice in her belly for a half-moon began to m elt. “So do I.”

Twigpaw’s paws ached as she followed Fernsong and Ivy pool from the trees. Since yesterday they’d crossed hills and m eadows, tracked rivers, and skirted Twoleg nests. They’d slept through the coldest part of the night in a sheltered hollow. Now, at last, they were close. She winced as bright sunlight bathed her face.

Alderpaw stopped beside her and nodded toward the bottom of the long slope in front of them.

A wide Thunderpath cut through the valley, snaking along the bottom like a stinking river. “We found you down there.”

“Near the Thunderpath?” Twigpaw blinked. She’d never seen a Thunderpath before—not that she could remember, any way. The noise and sm ell m ade her shrink back. Monsters roared along it, the sun flashing on their shiny pelts.

“Yes.” Alderpaw frowned.

Ivy pool and Fernsong paced the top of the slope, their pelts twitching nervously. “Should we go down there?”

“Of course!” Twigpaw flattened her ears against the sound of the Thunderpath and padded forward. “I want to see the nest.” She’d heard how Alderpaw and Needletail had plucked her and Violetpaw from a nest hidden in the shadows. Perhaps som e trace of her mother’s scent lingered there, a trace they could track.

Ivy pool hesitated.

Fernsong looked at her. “We’ve come this far,” he meowed. “We might as well go all the way.”

“But the m onsters.” Ivy pool stared at them nervously. “What if they leave the path?”

Fernsong whisked his tail. “They never leave the path,” he meowed. “Monsters m ay be big and loud, but they are bee-brained.”

Twigpaw flicked her tail. Warriors weren’t supposed to be scared. She hurried forward, her heart quickening as she scanned the slope for som e sign of a nest.

Alderpaw hurried to catch up to her. “We have to go underneath it.”

“Underneath?” Twigpaw looked at him, shocked.

“There’s a tunnel. It’s not very —” The sound of the m onsters drowned his mew.

Twigpaw could feel their heat as they neared. She raised her voice. “Where’s the entrance?”

Alderpaw scanned the edge of the Thunderpath, frowning for a m om ent. Then he nodded toward a sm all shadowy hollow where the side of the Thunderpath dropped into a ditch. “There it is.”

Excitem ent surged in Twigpaw’s belly. She broke into a run. Ignoring the acrid wind from the m onsters, which tore through her fur, she leaped into the ditch. Pebbles lined it, j abbing her paws.

She hurried along it until she reached the shadowy hollow. A huge m onster scream ed past. She screwed up her eyes as grit spray ed her.

Alderpaw landed beside her. Leaning over her, he shielded her as another m onster streaked past.

Paw steps crunched behind them. Ivy pool and Fernsong were hurry ing along the ditch toward them.

“Is this it?” Ivy pool blinked at the hole in the side of the ditch. Sm ooth, dark sticks crisscrossed it.

Twigpaw peered between them. The scent of dank stone and sour water filled her nose. She sniffed nervously, straining to see through the darkness. As her eyes grew accustom ed to the gloom, she could see twigs littering the bottom of the tunnel. Water pooled there, gleam ing as it stretched into the distance. Pale light showed at the far end. Som ething skittered there. A rat?

Alderpaw crouched close beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Twigpaw swallowed. She realized that her pelt was bristling as she struggled to remember this place. Was this really where her mother had left them? Sadness twisted her heart.

What a terrible place for a nursery. She thought of the bramble den back at camp, where countless queens had raised litters in warmth and safety. What had driven her mother to this? She stuck her head between the sticks and squeezed through them.

Foul-sm elling water soaked her paws. The skittering paw steps sounded again, echoing along the stone walls of the tunnel. Picking her way am ong the debris, Twigpaw sniffed. She tried desperately to sm ell som e trace of her mother through the stench, but nothing rem ained except the scent of m onsters and rats.

Alderpaw squeezed after her, while Fernsong and Ivy pool crouched at the opening, their eyes wide as they peered through.

“The nest must have been washed away,” Alderpaw guessed.

Twigpaw blinked at him through the darkness. Sorrow tugged at her heart. “Why did she leave us here?”

“Surely she had no choice.” Alderpaw’s eyes glinted in the shadows.

Twigpaw glanced around. “I see why you took us now.” Suddenly she understood that Alderpaw couldn’t have left her and Violetpaw here. If cold or hunger hadn’t killed them, rats might have. But hope still pricked her heart. “I wonder where she went.”

Without waiting for a response, she pushed past Alderpaw and slid back through the crisscrossed sticks. Flattening her ears against the m onsters’ roars, she glanced along the ditch. She tried to im agine what her mother had been thinking when she left the nest. She must have gone looking for food. Had she gotten lost? Had she forgotten her way back to the tunnel? Twigpaw nosed past Ivy pool and Fernsong and headed along the ditch. She clim bed onto the slope and toward a swath of long grass. Mice would be there, right? Her mother might have followed this path, guessing the sam e.

“Twigpaw!” Ivy pool called after her.

Twigpaw glanced back.

The silver-and-white she-cat was hurry ing after her, Fernsong and Alderpaw on her heels.

“Wait for us.” She caught up to her, puffing.

“I have to figure out where m y mother went,” Twigpaw mewed urgently.

Ivy pool gazed at her sy m pathetically. “But it was moons ago, Twigpaw. You can’t hope to find a trace of her.”

Fernsong stopped beside her. “The leaf-bare snows would have washed any scents away.”

Twigpaw stared at them, panic opening like a whirlpool in her belly. White fur caught her ey e.

She glanced past them. A cat was on the Thunderpath! It sat, m otionless, in the m iddle as m onsters thundered past it. “Look!”

Ivy pool snapped her head around, following her gaze.

“What in StarClan!” Fernsong’s m outh gaped open as he saw the stranded cat.

“Why isn’t she try ing to run away?”

Twigpaw hardly heard Ivy pool’s gasp. She hared down the slope. “We have to save her!”

She tore toward the Thunderpath, desperation driving her on. What if that was her mother?

She leaped over the ditch, her paws hitting the Thunderpath as a m onster howled past, a tail-length from her nose. Her gaze flicked across the stretch of gray stone. If she could dodge the m onsters, she could reach the cat and guide her to safety. Her thoughts whirled. Blood pounded in her ears.

She glanced back and forth, searching for a gap to race through.

Suddenly claws gripped her pelt. Her paws scratched over the stone as som eone j erked her backward. Teeth sank into her scruff as the ditch opened below her and Ivy pool hauled her down into its shelter.

“What in StarClan do you think y ou’re doing?” Ivy pool stared at her.

Fernsong landed beside them, his pelt bushed. “Do you want to get y ourself killed?”

“What about the cat?” Twigpaw wailed above the m onsters.

She reared onto her hind legs, peering over the edge. A bright red m onster, far bigger than the rest, pounded toward the helpless cat. “Run!” The shriek tore from Twigpaw’s throat. But the cat didn’t m ove. Horror shrilled though Twigpaw as the red m onster hurtled over it. She stared in disbelief as the cat disappeared.

“They killed her.” Her words caught in her throat.

Ivy pool hopped onto the edge of the Thunderpath and stared across it. Twigpaw j um ped up beside her, her heart pounding as she scanned the stone for blood. But there was none. All that was left of the cat was white fluff, tossed in the wake of the m onsters like thistledown.

Twigpaw stared at it. “That cat wasn’t real.” Her m urm ur was swept away as another m onster tore past.

Ivy pool nudged her down into the ditch. “It must have been som e Twoleg trick,” she meowed as they landed with a crunch on the pebbles.

Fernsong blinked at them. “Let’s get out of here.”

Twigpaw stared at him, hardly hearing. She felt frozen. That could have been her mother.

Realization swept over her like an icy wind. How could her mother still be alive? She’d had kits to feed. She’d had to hunt. She would have had to cross the Thunderpath countless tim es. She was probably hit, like that lifeless ball of fluff, by a m onster. Why else would she have not returned to their nest? Certainty sat in Twigpaw’s belly like a stone. Her mother was dead.

“Come on.” Alderpaw’s soft mew sounded in her ear. She felt his warm m uzzle nudging her forward. Num bly, she let him guide her out of the ditch and back up the slope.

She was dim ly aware of Ivy pool and Fernsong m oving beside them. Her heart ached with every paw step, and then shadow swallowed her. She blinked, realizing they were am ong the trees once more.

She m et Alderpaw’s gaze. “I know she’s dead now,” she m urm ured hoarsely. “Let’s go home.”