Dark River

“She couldn’t possibly believe she could help RiverClan by herself!” meowed Leafpool.

“Hollypaw wouldn’t be that mouse-brained,” Jaypaw agreed.

“But maybe she thought that if she couldn’t reason with Firestar, she might be able to convince Onestar not to fight,” Leafpool went on reluctantly.

A dark pit seemed to open in Jaypaw’s stomach. Hollypaw always thought the world was neatly divided into right and wrong. And if she thought Firestar was making a mistake, she might be stubborn enough to try and mend things on her own. He shook the thought away. She wouldn’t be that reck-less. Would she?

He felt Leafpool’s paw pressing his. “You must try to dream!” she meowed. “You have to find out where she is!”

Her urgent plea set his fur bristling with indignation. Not so long ago she’d begged him to keep his dreams a secret; now she wanted him to use them to find Hollypaw. Was this all he was to her? A quick way to get answers from StarClan when she wanted them, and a danger to the Clan when she didn’t?

“Please!”

“I’m not tired!” Jaypaw objected. “I can’t just dream when I like.”

“Just close your eyes and try,” Leafpool begged.

“I’ll dream when I’m ready!” he snapped.

He padded toward the entrance and felt Leafpool’s pelt brush against his. She was blocking the way!

“You have to try now!” Leafpool hissed.

Jaypaw’s pelt bristled. “But she’s probably just gone off by herself for a bit.” What was wrong with Leafpool? She sounded more worried than Squirrelflight!

Cinderpaw’s nest rustled. “Is something wrong?”

Leafpool turned to reassure her patient. “Don’t worry,” she soothed. “Keep still and rest your leg.”

So that was what she was worried about. Not Hollypaw.

Just her precious patient. Jaypaw’s ears burned with rage. He pushed past her and stamped out of the den.

The camp was calmer now. Firestar had jumped down from Highledge to talk to Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight.

“The sunset patrol can keep an eye open for any trace of her,” Firestar was meowing. “We’ll see what they report and then send out a search party.”

“I want to be on the sunset patrol,” Squirrelflight meowed at once.

“And the search party,” Brambleclaw added.

“Of course,” Firestar agreed. “You must lead them both.”

Jaypaw let his ruffled fur relax. A search party was much more sensible than Leafpool’s desperate plea for dreams. She was as edgy as a deer these days. If Hollypaw didn’t turn up, then of course he’d try and use his powers to find her, but he wasn’t going to sleep all afternoon just because Leafpool ordered him to. He wanted to get away from her, away from the camp, away from everyone. He began to squeeze through the thorn tunnel.

“Where are you going?” Squirrelflight called after him.

Anxiety was pricking from her pelt. Was she worried about losing another kit? One that every cat believed couldn’t take care of himself?

“For a walk.”

“Don’t be long.”

I’ll be as long as I like! Jaypaw headed into the trees. The damp air promised rain, and the forest smelled musty. He found his paws heading up the slope toward the lake. He sniffed eagerly for the scent of the open water, quickening his pace as he topped the ridge and headed down and out of the trees. This route would take him straight to the shore where he had left the branch. He began to hurry, whiskers twitching, paws following the familiar path down to the shore.

He scrambled down onto the beach and paused. Unlike the forest, which never seemed to change, the ground around the edge of the lake was always different. The pebbles seemed to shift so that they never felt the same underpaw, and debris came and went, washed up, then washed away again. Jaypaw loved the challenge of the shore. Just so long as he could steer clear of the water. He padded cautiously forward, muzzle outstretched, sniffing for driftwood or rubbish that might trip him. But his mind was fixed on the stick, hopefully still tucked safely behind the tree root. He weaved his way toward it, his heart beating faster as he neared it. He reached out a paw. It was there! Still safe.

Happily, he dragged it from its hiding place and ran his paws over it, feeling the warmth of the wood and welcoming the jarring ripples as his pads bumped over the scratches. The swishing of the waves and the murmuring of the wind drifted away. He was aware only of the branch beneath his pads and the sharp etches cut into it. A voice breathed in his ears, too soft to hear. It was husky like the voice of an old cat and it seemed to be listing names, as though counting them off.

Jaypaw felt his heart quicken as his paw neared the end of the branch. The uncrossed scratches lay there. His belly tightened.

He strained to hear the voice. But when his paw touched the first uncrossed mark the voice choked and fell silent.

Disappointed, Jaypaw lay down beside the stick and rested his cheek on the smooth wood. He closed his eyes, soothed by the lapping of the lake, and began to dream.