ravine. She disappeared into the lush greenery.
Jaypaw started to panic. I mustn’t let her out of my sight! He scrambled over the edge of the ravine, following the path Cinderpaw had taken, fighting to keep his balance on the tumble of rocks because he was unaccustomed to using sight to guide him. At the bottom, a dense wall of gorse blocked his way. Just in time he spotted the tip of Cinderpaw’s tail disappear into it. He raced after her and found an opening in the gorse. He slithered through and found her standing in a sandy clearing at the bottom of the ravine. Bushes and ferns circled it protectively and at the far end, a jagged rock blocked the way out.
“Cinderpaw?” Cautiously, Jaypaw padded toward her, tasting the air. It didn’t smell like StarClan territory, but there were definitely some scents that he recognized. A tree stump near the edge of the clearing seemed to smell of Firestar and Graystripe. The bramble bush beside him carried the scents of Dustpelt and Thornclaw.
Cinderpaw gazed around, wide-eyed, her tail twitching with pleasure. “It’s just as I remembered! I haven’t been here for such a long time.”
What did she mean? This wasn’t ThunderClan territory.
How could Cinderpaw have been here? It didn’t even feel like anywhere near the lake. The wind sounded different as it rustled the leaves in the trees at the top of the ravine. The air tasted warmer, filled with a damp fustiness that Jaypaw had never scented before.
“Look here!” Cinderpaw was padding over to the huge rock. “This is Highrock.”
Then she turned and bounded over to the bramble bush that smelled of Thornclaw. “And this is the warriors’ den.
The elders’ den is over there.” She flicked her tail toward a fallen tree. “And over here”—she raced across the clearing to another bush—“is the apprentices’ den. I used to sleep here before . . . ” Her mew trailed away, her eyes growing misty. She blinked. “Then I moved to Yellowfang’s den.”
Yellowfang! The name seared Jaypaw’s ears. Yellowfang had been ThunderClan’s medicine cat before Cinderpelt. She was with StarClan now, and it seemed to Jaypaw that her main duty was to butt into his dreams. He could picture her, yellow eyes sparking, matted pelt bristling with impatience. . . .
“Come and see!” Cinderpaw’s mew interrupted his thoughts.
An eerie feeling pricked his tail as she led him through a narrow tunnel to a much smaller clearing. A rock towered at the far end, split down the middle by a cleft big enough for a den.
Cinderpaw gazed wistfully into the shadowy cave.
“Yellowfang kept her herbs in there.”
“Yellowfang’s dead,” Jaypaw mewed. “She’s in StarClan now.”
Cinderpaw looked at him. “Of course she is! Where else would she be?”
“I don’t understand. Why are you acting as if you lived here too?”
“Because I did. Many moons ago, before we left the forest.”
“But you never lived in the forest!”
“Once I did.” Cinderpaw’s blue eyes sparkled with starlight. “But I have returned to tread a different path, the path of a warrior.” She looked warmly at him, and when she spoke her voice seemed deeper, more wise, as if she’d aged in front of him. “Tell Leafpool that she has nothing to fear. I will recover this time. And tell her that I am proud of her. She has learned more than I could ever have taught her.”
Jaypaw’s pelt bristled. Vivid images were thronging in his mind: a young gray cat running through an unfamiliar forest, a monster screeching off a Thunderpath, agony piercing her hind leg, blood and the wails of her Clanmates; memories of learning herbs, limping after Yellowfang, of kits born in a river of blood, of fear and the forest being ripped apart by monsters, of a long hard journey through snow and ice and of snarling, vicious black-and-white creatures, jaws snapping, hungry for revenge and for death. . . .
Jaypaw took a gulp of air, his paws unsteady beneath
Jaypaw started to panic. I mustn’t let her out of my sight! He scrambled over the edge of the ravine, following the path Cinderpaw had taken, fighting to keep his balance on the tumble of rocks because he was unaccustomed to using sight to guide him. At the bottom, a dense wall of gorse blocked his way. Just in time he spotted the tip of Cinderpaw’s tail disappear into it. He raced after her and found an opening in the gorse. He slithered through and found her standing in a sandy clearing at the bottom of the ravine. Bushes and ferns circled it protectively and at the far end, a jagged rock blocked the way out.
“Cinderpaw?” Cautiously, Jaypaw padded toward her, tasting the air. It didn’t smell like StarClan territory, but there were definitely some scents that he recognized. A tree stump near the edge of the clearing seemed to smell of Firestar and Graystripe. The bramble bush beside him carried the scents of Dustpelt and Thornclaw.
Cinderpaw gazed around, wide-eyed, her tail twitching with pleasure. “It’s just as I remembered! I haven’t been here for such a long time.”
What did she mean? This wasn’t ThunderClan territory.
How could Cinderpaw have been here? It didn’t even feel like anywhere near the lake. The wind sounded different as it rustled the leaves in the trees at the top of the ravine. The air tasted warmer, filled with a damp fustiness that Jaypaw had never scented before.
“Look here!” Cinderpaw was padding over to the huge rock. “This is Highrock.”
Then she turned and bounded over to the bramble bush that smelled of Thornclaw. “And this is the warriors’ den.
The elders’ den is over there.” She flicked her tail toward a fallen tree. “And over here”—she raced across the clearing to another bush—“is the apprentices’ den. I used to sleep here before . . . ” Her mew trailed away, her eyes growing misty. She blinked. “Then I moved to Yellowfang’s den.”
Yellowfang! The name seared Jaypaw’s ears. Yellowfang had been ThunderClan’s medicine cat before Cinderpelt. She was with StarClan now, and it seemed to Jaypaw that her main duty was to butt into his dreams. He could picture her, yellow eyes sparking, matted pelt bristling with impatience. . . .
“Come and see!” Cinderpaw’s mew interrupted his thoughts.
An eerie feeling pricked his tail as she led him through a narrow tunnel to a much smaller clearing. A rock towered at the far end, split down the middle by a cleft big enough for a den.
Cinderpaw gazed wistfully into the shadowy cave.
“Yellowfang kept her herbs in there.”
“Yellowfang’s dead,” Jaypaw mewed. “She’s in StarClan now.”
Cinderpaw looked at him. “Of course she is! Where else would she be?”
“I don’t understand. Why are you acting as if you lived here too?”
“Because I did. Many moons ago, before we left the forest.”
“But you never lived in the forest!”
“Once I did.” Cinderpaw’s blue eyes sparkled with starlight. “But I have returned to tread a different path, the path of a warrior.” She looked warmly at him, and when she spoke her voice seemed deeper, more wise, as if she’d aged in front of him. “Tell Leafpool that she has nothing to fear. I will recover this time. And tell her that I am proud of her. She has learned more than I could ever have taught her.”
Jaypaw’s pelt bristled. Vivid images were thronging in his mind: a young gray cat running through an unfamiliar forest, a monster screeching off a Thunderpath, agony piercing her hind leg, blood and the wails of her Clanmates; memories of learning herbs, limping after Yellowfang, of kits born in a river of blood, of fear and the forest being ripped apart by monsters, of a long hard journey through snow and ice and of snarling, vicious black-and-white creatures, jaws snapping, hungry for revenge and for death. . . .
Jaypaw took a gulp of air, his paws unsteady beneath
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