Eclipse

She padded to the front of the boulder and let her paws slide over the edge. It was a short, steep drop, but the grass below looked like it would make a soft landing. She leaped. As she landed, a flurry of fur and paws knocked the breath from her body and sent her flying. Who’s attacking me? Gasping, she scrambled to her paws and prepared to defend herself.

“Why did you get in the way?”

Breezepaw!

The black WindClan apprentice was shaking out his fur beside her. “I almost had that mouse!”

“Sorr—” she began to apologize, then bristled. Why didn’t the dumb furball look where he was going? “I thought we were supposed to be hunting over there!” She flicked her tail toward the copse.

“I decide where I hunt!” Breezepaw snapped. He glanced up at Lionpaw, who was peering over the edge of the boulder.

“At least I was hunting and not sitting around chatting with my denmates.”

“Your denmates wouldn’t want to sit around and chat with you even if they were here!” Hollypaw retorted. She felt instantly guilty. Even though he was as bad-tempered as his father and twice as smug, she had begun to feel sorry for Breezepaw. Crowfeather treated his son with such scorn that Breezepaw sometimes seemed a loner among his own Clanmates.

Lionpaw jumped down beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Of course she is!” Breezepaw snorted. “She’d be even better if she were hunting like she’s supposed to, instead of getting in my way. The sooner we get this fresh-kill, the better. Then we can go home.”

It had been obvious from the start that Breezepaw hadn’t wanted to come to the mountains. And Crowfeather hadn’t acted like he was glad to have him along. He didn’t seem proud of anything Breezepaw did, unlike Brambleclaw, who made Hollypaw feel like the best warrior in ThunderClan when he praised her. Compassion welled in her chest as she looked at the miserable WindClan apprentice. “We’ll be back at the lake before long,” she mewed gently.

Breezepaw glared at her. “Why do we have to find fresh-kill for the Tribe, anyway? Why can’t they hunt for themselves?”

The compassion evaporated. Hollypaw wondered if she should remind Breezepaw that the Tribe cats were exhausted by their recent battle, and that prey was scarcer than ever in the mountains because of the gang of rogues who had invaded their land and forced them to set borders around their hunting grounds. But if he didn’t know that already, she wasn’t going to waste her breath. Let him figure it out. All she wanted now was to be back home, warm in her nest with a full belly and her denmates sleeping peacefully around her. She glanced at her brother. Would he set Breezepaw straight?

But Lionpaw just rolled his eyes at the WindClan apprentice. “Go catch a rabbit.” He snorted and stomped away across the grass.

Breezepaw curled his lip. “ThunderClan cats think they’re so special,” he sneered before stalking down the slope.

Hollypaw hurried after her brother. He was muttering under his breath as she caught up to him.

“I wish I had the power to shut that furball up once and for all!”

Is he joking? Hollypaw looked sideways to see if Lionpaw’s eyes were shining with their usual good humor, but they were half closed in a frown. She skipped in front of him and blocked his path. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

Lionpaw flicked his tail. “Of course not,” he grumped. “I’m just tired.”

“But do you think that’s what ‘the power of the stars’ means?” Hollypaw persisted. “The power to make any cat do what we want?”

Lionpaw shrugged but didn’t meet her gaze. “I suppose,” he answered. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You must have!”

Lionpaw padded around her and kept going for a few moments before he spoke again. “I hope it will make me stronger than any other cat, so that I can always win battles.”

He paused. “What about you?”

“I hope it means I’ll know things other cats don’t.”

“Like what?” Mischief lit his gaze. “How to speak to Twolegs?”

“Don’t be stupid!” Hollypaw’s claws itched with impatience. “I mean the power to understand”—she groped for the words to explain—“everything,” she mewed at last.

Lionpaw nudged her shoulder affectionately. “Is that all?”

Hollypaw flicked him away. “You know what I mean.”

They had almost reached the trees before Lionpaw spoke again. “Perhaps each of us will feel the power differently,” he ventured. “Jaypaw can already tell what cats are thinking, can’t he?” He caught Hollypaw’s eye. “He does it to you, right?”

Hollypaw nodded.

“Leafpool can’t do that,” Lionpaw went on. “None of the medicine cats can. Jaypaw is already making predictions about trouble in other Clans, too. That must be his power—to see things other cats can’t.”

“He’s the least blind of us all,” Hollypaw murmured, feeling her pelt prickle the way it did when Jaypaw said exactly what was running through her mind.

Thick foliage grew at the edge of the wood, and she halted to let Lionpaw take the lead. “Have you felt anything yet?” she ventured as he began to nose his way into the bushes.