The Forgotten Warrior

“Why don’t we do some hunting before we go back to camp?” she suggested, dismissing Sol from her mind. She wanted to show Lionblaze that her senses had returned.

“I’m surprised you have the energy after that training session,” Lionblaze remarked.

Dovewing bounced on her paws. “I feel like I could run right around the lake!” she purred. Then she spotted Cinderheart blinking with pleasure. Oh, no, she thinks it’s because of Bumblestripe!

“Okay, let’s hunt,” Lionblaze meowed. “And to make it a bit more interesting, we’ll have a contest. We’ll all start from here, and the first to make a catch wins.”

Ivypool pricked up her ears. “Wins what?”

“Oh… how about first pick of the fresh-kill pile?” Cinderheart suggested.

Dovewing crouched down and waited, sending out her senses as delicately as the seeds from a dandelion, drifting on the wind. Soon she picked up a bird—a moorhen—beside the lake, pecking its way along the shoreline. Concentrating intensely, she held her focus as Cinderheart and Ivypool set off in different directions, holding their heads high to scent the air.

Lionblaze was still watching her. Dovewing fixed on the exact location of the moorhen, still pecking among the little stones at the water’s edge, then sprang to her paws. She took off toward the lake, winding her way through the trees, leaping over dead branches and tiny streams.

I didn’t realize how far we were from the lake!

Pausing beside a hazel bush, Dovewing checked that the moorhen was still there, then carried on. As she burst out of the trees the bird fluttered up, but she batted it out of the air with a massive pounce, and gave it a sharp bite to the neck. Picking up her prey, she headed back to the clearing. She wasn’t surprised, given how far she had run to make her kill, to see that the three others had all gotten there before her.

“Bad luck,” Ivypool mewed sympathetically, a plump mouse lying at her paws.

Cinderheart had caught a squirrel, and Lionblaze a blackbird.

“Ivypool was first back, so she wins,” Cinderheart announced.

Dovewing dipped her head to her sister. “Well done.”

Picking up her prey, Cinderheart led the way back to the clearing with Ivypool at her side. Shrugging, Dovewing followed. Secretly, she wasn’t disappointed to be the last back. She had done what she set out to do. Lionblaze was watching her intently, and as she met his gaze, he gave her a nod. He wasn’t disappointed, either. He knew her power had come back.

Chapter 9

Jayfeather shivered as a cold wind probed his fur with icy claws. He stood at the crest of a hill; around him a copse of pine trees bent their tops into the gale, their branches rattling together. Above the trees, the sky heaved with gray clouds.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Jayfeather muttered, gazing out across the bleak landscape. “I’m leaving.”

But before he could wake from his dream he heard the puffing breath of a cat climbing the hill, and spotted a skinny gray shape struggling through the thorny undergrowth.

“Yellowfang,” he sighed as the cat emerged into the open. “Did we really have to meet here? This wind is blowing my fur off.”

Yellowfang halted in front of him and stared at him from narrowed amber eyes. Jayfeather thought that she looked even scruffier than usual. Her pelt was ruffled by the wind, her breath stank, and her eyes were gummy, as if she hadn’t groomed herself for moons.

“I chose this place because I can’t risk any cat overhearing us,” Yellowfang informed him, wheezing.

“There’s still a bad feeling in StarClan, then?” Jayfeather asked.

“Yes!” the old she-cat hissed. “And you must trust no cat!”

Jayfeather dug his claws into the cold ground. He felt chilled to the bone, and wanted nothing more than to wake into his warm den. “What do you want?” he mewed impatiently.

“To tell you what you must do,” Yellowfang replied. “You need to recruit another medicine cat. I don’t mean an apprentice. I mean the other fully trained cat that lives in ThunderClan.”

Jayfeather’s pelt prickled with surprise. “But Leafpool isn’t a medicine cat anymore,” he pointed out. “That’s beyond my control—or yours.”

Regret clouded the old gray cat’s eyes. “I know,” she mewed sadly. “I don’t mean Leafpool. What she did was so wrong when judged against the medicine cat code, it’s as if her training had never existed. Don’t underestimate the depth of her punishment, Jayfeather. She hasn’t only given up her place as medicine cat. She’s forbidden to use her knowledge, even though she worked so hard to achieve it.”

Jayfeather felt a flash of frustration. Like you didn’t have a kit of your own, even if your Clan never knew the truth. “That’s like punishing the whole Clan for one cat’s mistake!” he hissed.

“It was a grave mistake.” Yellowfang’s voice was somber.