Dawn

Crag took a bite from the rabbit he had laid on the ground and then pushed it over to Leafpaw. Guessing this was a custom of the Tribe, she took a bite and passed it back to him.

Back in the forest, the cats had shared food too, but there was usually enough fresh-kill for each cat to have a whole piece each. She wondered if the Tribe’s formal sharing ritual arose from the scarcity of prey in the mountains.

After the meal, the cats lay, full-bellied, and quietly shared tongues. Tallstar limped to the center of the cave and gazed around at the cats until they fell silent. Onewhisker crept to his side, supporting the WindClan leader’s frail body with his own.

“Who’s that skinny old raven?” mewed a Tribe kit.

“Hush!” His mother cuffed him sharply. “That’s a very noble Clan leader!”

But though he had to lean on the young warrior, Tallstar’s eyes shone with as much strength and determination as a leader on his first life, rather than his last. “Crowpaw?”

The WindClan apprentice looked up, bewildered.

“Crowpaw has served his Clan with bravery and loyalty.”

Tallstar’s voice cracked as he stifled a cough. “He should have received his warrior name long ago,” he rasped. “But the tragedies of the past moons have prevented this. Tonight, if Stoneteller will do me the kindness of letting a Clan ceremony into his Tribe’s home, I wish to honor Crowpaw’s great skill and courage by giving him his warrior name.”

Murmurs of agreement rose from the WindClan cats, but they turned to mews of surprise as Crowpaw stepped forward. This wasn’t part of the warrior naming ceremony.

“May I ask something, Tallstar?” he mewed.

Tallstar narrowed his eyes and nodded for him to go on.

“I would like to choose my own warrior name. If it is all right, I wish to be known as Crowfeather.” Crowpaw spoke so quietly, his voice was almost lost in the pounding water. “I wish to keep alive the memory of… of the cat who did not return from the first journey.”

Stormfur’s ears flicked, and he stared down at his paws.

There was a long pause; then Tallstar announced, “A noble request. Very well. I name you Crowfeather. May StarClan protect you and accept you as a WindClan warrior in life as well as after.”

The WindClan cats jumped up and went over to congratulate their Clanmate.

“That was a brilliant idea!” Squirrelpaw bounded over to Crowfeather’s side. Brambleclaw, Tawnypelt, and Stormfur joined her.

“It’s a great name,” Tawnypelt agreed as Brambleclaw wound his lean body around Crowfeather, purring. Stormfur touched his muzzle to Crowfeather’s flank as if he were too moved to speak.

“Thank you,” Crowfeather murmured. He gazed past them at the waterfall, turned silver by the light of the moon.

“I will sit my vigil tonight beside Feathertail’s grave.”

Leafpaw watched as he slipped away from his friends and Clanmates and padded out of the cave.

“So he’s a warrior now, yes?” Crag asked her, his eyes shining with curiosity.

“Yes.” Leafpaw got to her paws. “Thank you for sharing with me,” she murmured. The lonely moon called her from the crowded den, and she longed to search the clear sky for Silverpelt.

Padding out from behind the waterfall, she scrambled up the rocks and sat high above the pool where the tumbling water foamed and surged. The stars glittered overhead as Leafpaw gazed down to where Crowfeather sat vigil. He was sitting with his head bowed beside the low mound of rocks that marked Feathertail’s grave. Was she really with the Tribe of Endless Hunting rather than StarClan? Make her welcome, whoever you are, Leafpaw begged silently.

She watched Crowfeather for a moment, her heart aching for his loss. Then she lifted her head and stared around the peaks, wondering if StarClan watched him too. There was a tranquillity in this high place she had not felt since she lay beneath the trees in the forest. In the bright moonlight, something caught her eye on a small ledge opposite the cave entrance, and Leafpaw thought she saw two silver pelts glowing beneath the stars. She was almost certain that two cats stood there, looking down at Crowfeather; one was slightly taller than the other, but their pelts were marked by the same mottled shadows, as though they were kin.

Feathertail and Silverstream?

Leafpaw blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the silver cats had vanished.

Chapter 24

Squirrelpaw hurried after Stormfur along a rocky trail that only days ago had been buried beneath a tail-length of snow. He seemed determined to cross most of the mountains in search of prey. The rocks echoed with the drip, drip, drip of melting ice. Even the deepest snowdrifts were thawing. Dark gray rainclouds rolled toward the mountains, carried on a milder wind that was releasing the peaks from the grip of the snow and ice.