Chapter 8
Tuifeather walked in dedicated pace with Fallenstar, who padded determinedly. Most of the cats were silent, only broken by a seldom whisper or growl. For the umpteenth time that day, Tuifeather thought of the mysterious prophecy: Follow the river and you will meet fire, but beware of darkness. There were many holes and double meanings in the omen, and for once in her career as a medicine cat, Tuifeather wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing. What if I lead my Clan away unnecessarily? Are we right to leave? Tuifeather knew that if she was wrong about the prophecy, her Clanmates wouldn’t trust her any longer. Leaving their home was a big thing, even though it was provoked by such a big thing as contaminated water. Tuifeather glanced back anxiously at the Clan she was leading away. Lightfoot’s patrol looked jolly – Keapaw and Hollypaw were throwing the odd paw at each other playfully. Dewfrost and Lightfoot were talking in hushed voices with nostalgia on their faces. Tuifeather guessed they were talking about the old camp. The old camp, Tuifeather mused, taking in the name of what still seemed like their old home. Where would they live now? What would be at the end of this sickly river? Tuifeather shook her head and looked to Volewhisker’s patrol. Tulipaw was throwing herself around Beestripe, who had his chest puffed out and took long strides. Tulipaw cast quick glances over at Keapaw, seeing if he was looking. Tuifeather remembered being an apprentice with a crush on Riverfur. Then her mentor, Mintfur, had told her that medicine cats can’t take mates. She was so heart-broken… for a moon. Then she became enthralled in the world of medicine and forgot all about her little crush. Cuckoonose was talking – without taking breaths – to Cricketsong, who was looking entirely bored. Tuifeather, being an admitted gossip, knew all about the relationships in the Clan. Cricketsong and Yarrowleaf, for one. Yarrowleaf was entirely charming, a dedicated warrior and a popular young she-cat. Cricketsong, however, was crass, boring and uninterested. He didn’t deserve such a nice cat like Yarrowleaf. Tuifeather, being a medicine cat, knew about Yarrowleaf being unable to have kits. It’s a shame, Tuifeather thought absently. She’d be a good mother. Duskflower’s patrol, Tuifeather saw as she glanced over, was stiff and rigid with fear. Duskflower lead with a slightly menacing swagger and seemed completely confident. Her group of cats looked unsure and afraid. Tuifeather remembered when all the cats used to look the same – happy and carefree. This journey has, and will, change cats, Tuifeather thought knowingly.
“Fallenstar,” Tuifeather began. “How sure are you that we’re doing the right thing?” she mewed. The young black and white medicine cat, though senior enough to have an apprentice, was still unsure of where she put her paws. Her pale, tortoiseshell leader shot her a brief, unreadable look.
“How sure are you that we’re doing the right thing?” he countered.
“Very.” Tuifeather said immediately. She couldn’t let her own leader know how disconcerted she was.
“Then I’m very sure we’re doing the right thing,” Fallenstar mewed, with a deep resonance. “I believe in you, Tuifeather. I trust you. You’re the one cat I can turn to and trust to make decisions with. Know that.” Tuifeather’s belly knotted. He wouldn’t trust me if I lead his Clan to certain death!
The Clan came to an intersection of paths – one spiralling off left, the other going uphill. Tuifeather halted the Clan with her tail. No matter what, her Clan trusted and relied on her. She couldn’t fail. The Clan was hushed and peered around quietly, not knowing what to do. Tuifeather studied her surroundings, searching for signs of which way to go. Straight ahead, the path got dusty and baron. To the left, crickets chirped noisily and there were many puddles. Tuifeather flicked an ear and inspected one of the puddles. She stared in awe as she recognised the shape of the assorted puddles. They were in the shape of a giant pawprint!
Tuifeather jumped with excitement. Surely, this must be a sign from StarClan that the Clan are doing the right thing?
“This way!” she meowed to the Clan. It felt strange not calling them MeadowClan, but with no meadow to call their own, were they just a homeless Clan? Fallenstar ran up to walk by Tuifeather again. The groups, led by Lightfoot, Volewhisker and Duskflower made haste to catch up. Without turning around, Tuifeather could hear the exerted panting of Dandelionfur. The pregnant queen would not find this journey easy, but now Tuifeather was sure that she was leading the Clan the right way.
Thank you for having faith in me, StarClan.
Keapaw felt bouncy.
It had been one day since leaving the camp. Although some of the more elderly warriors were dragging their paws a bit, there was a type of electricity running through everyone. It was energy. The Clan was relishing in adventure, in not knowing; whereas in MeadowClan everything was set in stone.
It was a golden afternoon, much like the one when Fallenstar had announced they would leave. The place they were staying for the night was covered in gorse bushes and abandoned rabbit warrens. Surprisingly, it was busy with prey. Keapaw had caught a plump mouse, Yarrowleaf and Cricketsong had worked together to catch a pigeon that fed the two elders, and Starlingflight had caught the biggest weka many of the Clan had ever seen. Keapaw was listening half-heartedly to the black-and-white warrior boasting about her catch.
“It barely knew I was there!” Starlingflight mewed. “Mistpaw really helped me with this one,” she flicked her tail at her apprentice who had her chest fluffed out. “Mistpaw distracted the old bird by rustling around. When it was least expecting it…” Starlingflight’s voice dropped to a theatrical whisper. Beetlepaw and Tweetpaw leaned forward, eyes wide.
“Snatch!” Starlingflight’s paw shot forward in a mime of catching the weka. Her audience flinched. “It was a matter of seconds. Just speed and skill,” Starlingflight licked her paw modestly. Keapaw knew that wekas were extremely hard to catch, and most warriors couldn’t catch a full grown one. They were fierce and strong, wekas, and Starlingflight had caught a young adult. She’d be mouse-brained to go for a fully grown weka – that fight she wouldn’t win. Keapaw shuddered and took another bite of his mouse, feeble compared to the weka. Duskflower ignored the boastful warrior and congratulated Starlingflight’s apprentice.
“Very good job, Mistpaw.” Duskflower nodded. The fluffy grey apprentice purred loudly and blinked thankfully. Keapaw scuffed the grass with his paws. Duskflower never complimented him like that! Like a ghost, suddenly Lightfoot was at his shoulder. Her eyes were tired but excited. She crouched beside him.
“Starlingflight’s a very good hunter.” Keapaw commented.
“Yes,” Lightfoot agreed, tipping her head to the side. “But she’s very proud.” Keapaw nodded, not really understanding. Pride is a good thing, isn’t it? Keapaw thought.
“My hunting’s going well,” the tortoiseshell apprentice purposefully changed the topic, seeing an unreadable expression cross Lightfoot’s face. Then her face seemed to pop back into normality; back into cheerful old Lightfoot.
“It is, is it?” she purred.
“Yes! When I was hunting with Cuckoonose, I caught a thrush all by myself. I gave it to Fallenstar and he said –” Lightfoot tensed and she stared at Keapaw.
“When did you go hunting with Cuckoonose?” she mewed.
“A few days before we left, when you went on the sunhigh patrol.” Keapaw spluttered. What’s wrong with hunting with another warrior when your mentor’s away? Lightfoot’s neck fur bristled. “I suppose she said I had sent her?”
Keapaw nodded. Lightfoot exploded, tearing up the grass.
“When a lazy warrior has an apprentice, it turns out a lazy apprentice!” she hissed furiously. “Cricketsong. Cricketsong was Cuckoonose’s first apprentice. The whole Clan can see that he is not bothered with anything, just like his old mentor! I do not want her training you again, okay Keapaw? She’s a liar and a cheat!” Keapaw felt his mouth begin to slide open and shut it quickly. What had occurred between Lightfoot and Cuckoonose? Before he could ask – which was decidedly unwise – Dewfrost raced up to her sister. “Lightfoot, come eat with us! Your pelt is horribly dirty!” Dewfrost purred. Lightfoot was transformed again, and the two sisters padded away, tails in the air. Keapaw felt like he was surrounded by secrets. The animosity between Cuckoonose and Lightfoot, the distance between Cricketsong and Yarrowleaf, where Duskflower’s mate was. All the secrets were suddenly swirling around him with foreign tongues, whispering to him. You need not know! and If you want to know then chase us!
“Got ants in your pelt?”
That wasn’t a voice inside his head. Keapaw spun around, ears burning with embarrassment to see Hollypaw. Her pelt looked freshly groomed. Her eyes were as warm and mellow as the morning light. Keapaw was frozen.
“Keapaw?” she cocked her head to the side and nudged him with a tentative paw.
“Hi, Hollypaw.” Keapaw managed to meow. Hollypaw took the liberty of curling up next to the tortoiseshell apprentice. She yawned and wriggled around. “I should feel tired,” she murmured, eyes transfixed on the horizon. “But, I don’t. I feel great.” She cast her gaze over at Keapaw.
“I barely miss the old camp.” He agreed. Hollypaw nodded slowly and flexed her paws. “I’m just looking forward to a new tomorrow. I barely had enough time to get attached to MeadowClan. Now I can be anything. We can be anything.” Keapaw stared at Hollypaw. Did she mean ‘we’ as the Clan, or him and her?
“I better get some rest now,” Hollypaw sighed. Keapaw stretched his legs and stood up. “I might go share tongues with the rest of the Clan. See you later –” Just as Keapaw started to walk away, he felt a tugging at his paws. Some part of him wanted to stay by Hollypaw. Suddenly he was crouching next to her, eyelids drooping. Keapaw barely had time to think about why he had returned before sleep enveloped him like a starry cloak.
Keapaw awoke, cold. The light of day had not yet reached the small clearing where they slept, blocked by a hill. Hollypaw was gone. Seeing Keapaw had risen, Tweetpaw came bundling over, green eyes shining amongst a thick cover of sleek, black fur. “Keapaw! We’re going to do battle training today.” He mewed excitedly. Keapaw blinked in surprise. “Battle training? I thought we’d be travelling.”
“Well, Tuifeather reasons that she needs time to interpret the signs around us. Decide where we’re going, you know.” Tweetpaw seemed jumpy and hasty. Keapaw groaned and nodded. He followed the young apprentice out of the temporary camp. Tweetpaw kept checking back over his shoulder and getting bursts of random speed. Keapaw kept at a steady speed and gradually caught up to Tweetpaw, who stopped at a shallow, grassy dip sheltered by a large lemonwood tree. Cricketsong and Lightfoot were sitting at the base of the tree, their pale pelts dappled as the sunlight groped through the gaps in the trees.
“Tweetpaw, this is your first session of battle practice.” Cricketsong meowed monotonously. His black apprentice was quivering with excitement. Tweetpaw’s tail had a mind of its own.
“Keapaw, as one of the older apprentices I want you to be patient. Claws sheathed, but do not go easy on Tweetpaw.” Cricketsong continued. Lightfoot halted the young warrior’s lecture with her tail. “Tweetpaw,” Lightfoot began brightly. “Can you stand by that blackberry bush? Thank you.” Keapaw watched Lightfoot closely. She was a ghost of the angry side he had seen last night. I guess Cuckoonose and Lightfoot are standing on an argument they had, Keapaw concluded.
“Keapaw?” Lightfoot’s mew startled him. “Over by the fallen log, please?” Keapaw nodded and padded over.
“Now!” Cricketsong started in a booming voice. “Keapaw is going to advance on you slowly,” he said to Tweetpaw. “You, will dive, twist, and swipe.” Cricketsong demonstrated as he spoke; he darted forward on his belly, rolled over and lashed out a paw at an imaginary enemy’s belly.
“That’s not a beginner’s move, Cricketsong,” Lightfoot mewed sternly. “Are you sure he can handle it?” she spoke both to mentor and apprentice. Tweetpaw nodded vigorously but Cricketsong ignored him.
“Of course he’s ready.” He scoffed, flicking his tail condescendingly at the older warrior. Keapaw felt a fizzle of annoyance run down his spine. How dare that lazy tom talk to Lightfoot that way?
Cricketsong took Tweetpaw through the procedure once more then gave the go ahead. Keapaw flexed his shoulders and then, at a slow run, approached Tweetpaw. The spry black tom wiggled his haunches before shooting between Keapaw’s front paws and twisting. As Tweetpaw flipped onto his back, his hind paw knocked Keapaw’s leg, and it buckled. Before Tweetpaw could swipe, Keapaw lay sprawled on top of him. The black tom immediately scrambled out from under him. Keapaw leapt back up and stared at Tweetpaw with guilt.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to fall.” Keapaw mewed. Tweetpaw purred, amused. “That’s fine. It was my fault, anyway.” Cricketsong approached from the lemonwood tree, irritation pricking from his pelt. “Yes, it was your fault. Your twist was awkward and wide – if you tried that on a warrior, he would’ve flattened you and taken advantage of the position. You have to be lithe!” Cricketsong ranted. Lightfoot ran in, for the second time. She thrust her head forward. “Cricketsong!” Lightfoot’s voice was full of displeasure and horror. “Tweetpaw is an apprentice, furthermore, your apprentice, and for his first try it was brilliant. He hasn’t had any other training, you said so yourself.” She hissed quietly. Cricketsong had a dull expression, giving away nothing. Lightfoot turned away with exasperation.
He doesn’t deserve an apprentice.
“Try again,” she encouraged. “Focus on keeping your back paws together and we’ll take it slowly.” Cricketsong watched from the sides, not contributing any feedback as he watched his apprentice improve his battle technique. Eventually, Cricketsong weaved his way back to the temporary camp. As Lightfoot gave a pep-talk to the apprentices, Tweetpaw watched his mentor leave with a look of longing. Keapaw felt inner frustration.
He doesn’t deserve an apprentice, or deserve to be a warrior!
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