Eclipse

Leafpool was padding toward the gray she-cat, snowflakes dappling her coat. She looked young, with the rounded face of a kit and her fur fluffed up against the cold. “Cinderpelt, let me fetch you some fresh-kill,” she begged. “A hunting patrol has just returned with a blackbird.”

Hope sparked in Cinderpelt’s dull eyes. “A blackbird?” she murmured. “We haven’t seen prey like that for a while.”

“Let me bring you some,” Leafpool insisted.

Cinderpelt’s expression changed abruptly. Now her eyes were like chips of ice. “Don’t waste it on me!” she snapped.

“The elders and queens must eat first. And the warriors and apprentices. They need their strength if they are to find more food.”

“But you need strength, too,” Leafpool argued. “You’re looking after the cats with whitecough. What if it turns to greencough? They’ll need you even more.”

Cinderpelt dipped her head, then spoke more gently. “With this leg, I can’t walk far. Especially when the cold makes it ache. I can get by on less food than the others.” There was grief and longing in her voice. Jaypaw could hear the words Cinderpelt did not speak: If I weren’t crippled, I could be out there too, finding food for my Clanmates…

“She’s fine.” Leafpool’s bright mew jolted him back into the present. His mentor was reassuring Cloudtail enthusiastically.

“Nothing will stop her from becoming a warrior.”

“I’ve noticed her leg is stiff in some of her battle moves.”

Cloudtail sounded uncertain. “I’m worried she’s not telling me when it hurts.”

“Then it probably doesn’t hurt,” Leafpool mewed.

“Perhaps you could watch her next training session?”

Cloudtail ventured. “To make sure?”

“No need.” Leafpool was brisk. “She’s going to make a great warrior. You should be proud of her.”

“I am,” Cloudtail assured her. “But I don’t want to push her. If she needs more time to recover I’m happy to wait.”

“You’re not pushing her, I’m sure,” Leafpool insisted.

Jaypaw sensed Cloudtail’s doubt melt away.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” the warrior meowed.

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Are you coming to eat?” Cloudtail asked. “A hunting party’s just returned.”

Jaypaw waited for the two cats to leave before he hopped out of the cleft in the rock. He could still feel Cinderpelt’s grief like a wound in his mind. How had Leafpool pushed it away so easily? She must have felt it; the memory was hers. Yet she had sounded so bright when she had spoken to Cloudtail.

Unnaturally bright, as though covering doubt. Jaypaw picked up a bundle of coltsfoot and headed back into the store. He hoped that Leafpool was right about Cinderpaw’s injury.

Chapter 5

Leafpool was sharing a mouse with Cloudtail when Jaypaw nosed his way out of the medicine cat den and padded to the fresh-kill pile.

There was plenty of prey to choose from. Hunting patrols had already stacked it full, and it was hardly sunhigh. As he dragged a shrew from the bottom—so fresh it still felt warm—the image of Cinderpelt starving in the snowy camp flashed in his mind. Was Leafpool thinking of her old mentor as she ate her meal?

“Jaypaw!” Graystripe was bounding across the clearing toward him. The warrior skidded to a halt. “Eat up! We’re going hunting.”

“Me?” Jaypaw’s heart soared.

“Sorreltail, Mousewhisker, and I will be hunting,” Graystripe corrected him. He must have realized Jaypaw’s disappointment. He whisked his tail along Jaypaw’s flank.

“You’ve got a more important job. Leafpool wants you to come with us to gather herbs.”

Great. Jaypaw suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore. He shoved the shrew back under the pile. “I’ll eat when I get back.”

“We’re going down to the lake,” Graystripe went on.

“The lake?” Jaypaw felt a glimmer of interest. The notched stick was on the shore; it was his link to the ancient cats from the tunnels. Maybe to even greater mysteries, if he could just understand what all the claw marks meant. “I guess it’ll be good to get out of camp and stretch my legs.”

“That’s more like it.” Graystripe turned and headed toward the thorn tunnel. Jaypaw could hear Sorreltail and Mousewhisker pacing there impatiently. He hurried after Graystripe, and together the patrol headed out into the forest.

Mousewhisker—only recently made a warrior—was buzzing with excitement. “I hope I catch something good! Maybe a squirrel.”

Graystripe purred. “Look out, squirrels!”

The woods were drowsy with heat, the undergrowth limp and fragrant as Jaypaw brushed past it, the air humming with bees. Mousewhisker’s paws thrummed on the leaf-strewn floor as he dashed on ahead. Graystripe hurried after him.

“I wish it could be greenleaf forever.” Sorreltail was padding beside Jaypaw, letting her pelt brush his.

“Yeah.” He drew away from her. He knew this part of the forest well enough not to need guiding. Pushing hard against the leafy forest floor, he broke into a run and charged along the familiar track.

“Wait for me!” Sorreltail called in surprise.