Warriors: A Starless Clan #4: Thunder

Prologue

Did you know she’d suffer? Windstar looked in dismay at Riverstar.

Riverstar didn’t look at her; he kept staring into the pool. Her words pierced his heart, but he couldn’t let them sway him. This was the only way. It can’t be changed, he growled.

Shadowstar, Skystar, and Thunderstar sat beside him, hunched over, their eyes dark as they gazed into the crystal water. The smooth surface didn’t reflect the StarClan sky. Instead it showed the RiverClan camp. It was night there. Only a few cats lingered in the watery moonlight, finishing the last of the prey, talking in hushed whispers, while a ShadowClan warrior padded softly around, peering into the dens and sniffing around the camp wall. Another stood at the edge of the clearing, waiting for the last of the RiverClan cats to go to their nests for the night.

The image in the pool shifted. It swung toward the moor, skimmed the heather, faster than a hawk, and slowed as it homed in on a young, light gray she-cat lying alone beneath the stars. She was barely moving. Blood ran from the wound on her neck, gleaming as it soaked her chest fur.

Windstar’s pelt pricked with alarm. She’s dying.

This wasn’t her destiny! Thunderstar mewed imploringly. She was never meant to be a medicine cat.

No. Riverstar’s tail twitched. "But things have changed. If RiverClan is to survive, it needs a messenger. A powerful messenger."

Even if it kills her? Shadowstar gasped.

She’s strong, Riverstar growled.

There must be another way! The ShadowClan founder protested.

You can’t let her die! Even Skystar sounded shocked.

I believe in her. Riverstar was still watching the young she-cat. She’s stronger than any cat I’ve seen in generations.

"Strong enough for this?" Windstar sounded angry.

RiverClan is mine, Riverstar growled. This is my choice to make. He leaned closer to the pool. Frostpaw will find the strength to survive. I’m sure of it. She will be the one to save her Clan.

Chapter 1

Trust no cat. The words pierced the fog of pain that had wrapped itself around Frostpaw. Blackness swirled at the edge of her consciousness, but she fought it, fear surging toward her like a flood. I mustn’t die. Hot blood poured from the wound in her neck and grew cold where it soaked her chest fur, and she could smell it, mingled with the dank odor of peat and heather. The scent filled her nose and bathed her tongue. She felt sick and began to shiver as the icy grip of the moor seemed to harden around her where she’d fallen, hidden by night, far from home, far from safety.

But was home safe anymore? The thought pressed a fresh thorn of fear into her heart. Who had attacked her? She stared into the darkness, her ears pricked, fighting back the exhaustion that wanted to drag her into the earth. Were they still nearby? Panic shrilled through every hair on her pelt. Would they burst at any moment from the heather to finish her off?

Why had she come here? She felt like a kit, floundering in the river as it swirled her toward a waterfall. She grasped at memories as though clutching for stones in the riverbed—anything to slow her thoughts, to stop her being swept over the edge into darkness.

The vision! She’d watched the RiverClan deputy die! But why had StarClan sent her a vision now, after she’d admitted to the whole Clan that she had no connection with them and that her previous visions had been no more than her imagination trying to give her Clanmates the answer they craved? RiverClan had wanted StarClan to decide who their next leader should be, and they’d been waiting for her to tell them. She’d done her best—at the Moonpool and in her dreams. She’d strained to understand StarClan’s wishes. But the vague images she’d conjured in her mind had never led to the right answer; instead, they had just produced a series of wrong ones.

This vision of Reedwhisker’s death had been different. It had been real. Even though she was a warrior apprentice now, she’d known in her bones it was true. Just hours before, Harelight had been teaching her how to fish when the river had faded in front of her and she’d found herself looking through the eyes of the cat who’d attacked Reedwhisker and pushed him over the cliff.

The vision had terrified her. She’d told Splashtail about it. She’d planned to tell Whistlepaw; she wanted to ask the WindClan medicine-cat apprentice’s advice. That was why she’d come to the moor.

She’d been so close to the WindClan camp. She’d almost reached it when she’d heard paw steps behind her and turned, hoping to find Whistlepaw. Instead she’d seen the shape of a cat hidden in shadow, and a paw had come out of the night and slashed her throat. Perhaps if she could reach the camp now, she could get help.

She tried to struggle to her paws. Pain clawed into her. Weakness made her legs fold beneath her, and she fell back against the earth. Why struggle to reach the WindClan camp? She didn’t even know it was safe. She didn’t know if anywhere was safe.

The heather rustled beside her. Her heart began beating so hard she felt sure it would give her away. They’ve come back! Terror gripped her like badger jaws. I’m going to die.

Overwhelmed by panic, Frostpaw thought she glimpsed pale brown fur and caught a familiar scent. Curlfeather! Hope surged in her chest. Her mother had come to save her! She yearned for Curlfeather’s touch and, reaching desperately for the warmth of her fur, fell into darkness.

She opened her eyes to find that dawn had washed the night from the moor and the heather was soaked with rosy sunlight. The wound on her neck had dried. She could feel the scab crack when she moved her head. I’m alive. The thought surprised her. A shaft of sunshine sliced through the branches, and she screwed up her eyes. There was no warmth in the dazzling brightness. There was no warmth anywhere. She was freezing.

Paw steps scuffed the earth beyond the wall of heather. Frostpaw’s breath caught in her throat as they padded closer. Her attacker?

The bushes rustled beside her. Frostpaw pressed herself against the earth as though she could disappear into it as a cat pushed their way through. She strained to recognize the strange cat, but mist swam across her vision. Fear was shaking her like a fox shaking its prey, and she heard a low growl. It was rolling in her own throat. Is that me?

The cat dropped into a crouch beside her. You’re hurt.

Leave me alone! Frostpaw tried to wriggle away. Terror pulsed like fire through her body. She felt her wound split, and blood soaked her fur once more.

Fierce paws pushed her back. Stay still! The mew sounded scared. You’re making it worse.

Frostpaw froze. She heard moss being ripped from the earth beside her, smelled its peaty scent as it rolled over her, and felt it being pushed against her throat. Paws pressed into her neck. This cat’s trying to kill me! She struggled but had no strength to escape. Help! She felt too terrified to push out any sound. Then she realized there was no sharpness in the paws at her neck, no claws, no tearing of flesh, only a strong, steady pressure that held her still.

It’s okay. The cat spoke softly, like a mother to her kit. I’m going to help you.

Confused, Frostpaw stopped trying to fight and lay still.

Her fear began to ease. She became aware of the cat’s scent. It was WindClan. The gray tabby fur seemed familiar. She smelled herbs and found herself looking into a face she’d seen many times before. Whistlepaw. Her mew was no more than a whisper.

Didn’t you recognize me? Whistlepaw sounded surprised.

I thought they’d come back.

Who? Whistlepaw was still pressing her paws against Frostpaw’s wound. Who did this to you?

I don’t know.

Well, there’s no cat around now. Whistlepaw sat back on her haunches.

Frostpaw began to push herself to her paws.

No! Whistlepaw reached for her throat again. Don’t get up. I’ve stopped the bleeding for now, but it’ll start again if you move. She leaned back again as Frostpaw stopped struggling. I need to get help. Whistlepaw glanced around.

Panic sparked in Frostpaw’s chest. No! she gasped. You can’t tell any cat.

But you’re hurt, Whistlepaw mewed. You need help. Stay still while I fetch Kestrelflight.

No! Frostpaw’s panic spiraled.

But he’ll know what to do. Whistlepaw’s eyes were glittering with alarm. This is beyond me.

"No cat can know I’m here," Frostpaw rasped.

What about the cat who hurt you? Whistlepaw mewed. We need to get you somewhere safe.

Frostpaw stared at her imploringly. Nowhere’s safe, she mewed.

Whistlepaw frowned. But I can’t leave you here, she mewed. You might die.

You could fix me up, though, Frostpaw begged. Just enough that I can get away.

"Get away where?" Whistlepaw looked unconvinced.

Somewhere no cat can find me.

You’d be safest in our camp, Whistlepaw insisted. Kestrelflight can treat your wound properly, and I’ll make sure no cat hurts you again.

Frostpaw’s heart began to pound. How? she mewed. We don’t know who did this. It could be any cat. It could be one of your Clanmates.

"You think a WindClan cat tried to kill you?" Whistlepaw looked shocked.

I don’t know! Frostpaw felt more helpless than ever. She had to convince Whistlepaw to keep this a secret. But the WindClan she-cat was frightened, and fear might make her tell. Please, she begged. Please don’t say anything.

Whistlepaw shifted uncertainly. Okay, she agreed. For now I’m going to get some herbs to fix you up the best I can. Don’t move until I get back. The gray tabby medicine-cat apprentice slid back into the heather.

Frostpaw watched her go. Can I trust her? She had no choice. She wanted to creep away, but Whistlepaw was right: her wound would reopen if she moved. Now that she was alone once more, exhaustion seeped back into Frostpaw’s limbs. The rush of desperation that had given her the energy to argue with Whistlepaw seemed to drain away. But she was still scared. What about the cat who hurt you? Whistlepaw’s words haunted her. They could still be close. She’d have to play dead.

Frostpaw lay stiff, like prey, but unsheathed her claws. She wouldn’t die without a fight. She stared at the bushes ahead, ears pricked, alert for the sound of paw steps. I have to figure out who did this. She struggled to piece together what had happened. Who could want to silence her? She’d been with Harelight when she’d had the vision. She’d been close to the RiverClan camp when she’d told Splashtail. She’d been attacked on WindClan land. What was the link? Above her, the dawn lost its glow, brightened into day, became brittle as the sun lifted over the moor. Her thoughts grew foggy. She glimpsed an idea, lost sight of it, then glimpsed another for a moment before it disappeared. Her eyes felt heavy. I mustn’t sleep. Mothwing had taught her that sleep could cure, but that if a cat was weak enough, it could kill. She fought it, straining to stay awake, but still the moor seemed to fold over her and darkness consumed her.

Frostpaw.

Whistlepaw’s urgent whisper dragged Frostpaw back into consciousness. She smelled thyme and felt poppy seeds on her lips.

Swallow, Whistlepaw ordered.

Frostpaw licked the leaf crumbs and seeds from around her mouth as she opened her eyes. Whistlepaw was peeling away the blood-soaked moss. She had a heap of cobweb and goosegrass beside her and was chewing herbs into a poultice. She lapped the ointment into Frostpaw’s wound. Frostpaw winced at the pain but held still, recognizing the scent of oak leaf and marigold, remembering from her training that they would fight infection.

Finally Whistlepaw draped cobweb over the gash and gently wound the sticky goosegrass around her neck to hold it in place.

She sat back. How are you feeling?

The poppy seeds were already easing Frostpaw’s pain and, with the thyme, had taken the edge off her fear. But she was still freezing.

I need to get you somewhere warm where you can heal, Whistlepaw mewed. She was frowning again. I’m not sure if the herbs I’ve given you are enough. Are you sure you won’t let me take you back to the medicine den? I promise you’ll be safe there. She blinked hopefully at Frostpaw.

No. The thought of being trapped in a den, in another Clan’s camp, made Frostpaw’s heart begin thumping once more. It’s too dangerous.

Whistlepaw’s eyes shone with worry. Please let me help you.

No. Frostpaw wished she could shrug off the exhaustion clawing at her limbs. Some cat tried to kill me and I don’t know who. I need to hide. She was the only one who knew that Reedwhisker had been murdered, besides the murderer. I need to find a way to protect my Clan.

But you can’t protect them if you die here, Whistlepaw mewed. Please let me fetch Kestrelflight.

You mustn’t tell! Frostpaw glared at her desperately. "You have to keep this secret. Tell no cat what’s happened, not even Kestrelflight. Whoever did this must think I’m dead. I need time to figure out what to do."

Chapter 2

Nightheart was purring. Sunbeam seemed to be settling into ThunderClan so easily. His heart still fluttered with joy that she’d come. That they could be together after all. They lay, pelts touching, in a patch of fading sunshine at the edge of the stone hollow next to Bayshine and Myrtlebloom. The last hunting patrol had just returned, and Fernstripe, Flipclaw, and Sorrelstripe would be leaving soon for the evening border patrol. For now, though, they seemed to be hanging back, as though they didn’t want to go.

Bayshine was teasing Myrtlebloom. "Sunbeam snores way less than some of our denmates." He looked at her pointedly.

Are you saying I snore? Myrtlebloom shot back.

Maybe. Bayshine winked at her.

"I didn’t hear you snore," Sunbeam told Myrtlebloom.

See? Myrtlebloom sniffed at Bayshine, then nodded toward the warriors’ den. I fixed up your nest earlier, she told Sunbeam.

Really? Sunbeam had spent her first night in the ThunderClan camp in a hastily gathered pile of ferns beside Nightheart. Thanks.

"I helped, Nightheart mewed quickly. We wove the ferns together and lined it with moss."

Sunbeam nudged his cheek with her nose. Thanks.

Bayshine looked at her warmly. I hope the warriors’ den isn’t too crowded for you.

It is kind of crowded, Sunbeam mewed. Not that I mind, she added hastily. ShadowClan’s warriors’ den is just bigger, that’s all. She hesitated. Not that ThunderClan’s den is too small. It’s just that . . .

Sunbeam was floundering. Nightheart felt a flash of sympathy for her as her mew faded away. He knew that being a new warrior in another Clan was complicated; he remembered what it had been like when he’d moved to ShadowClan. He hadn’t wanted to seem disloyal to ThunderClan, but he had wanted ShadowClan to see that he was serious about becoming a ShadowClan warrior. He ran his tail along Sunbeam’s flank. It’s always strange sleeping somewhere new, he mewed reassuringly.

He still couldn’t believe she’d followed him when he’d returned to his birth Clan. She’d appeared the day before and announced in front of every cat that she loved him so much she wanted to join ThunderClan. He purred louder as he remembered. I’m just glad you’re sleeping beside me.

Bayshine began to wash his face, then paused and blinked at Sunbeam. Did Nightheart tell you about the time he put a live vole on the fresh-kill pile? he mewed. He thought he’d killed it, but when Squirrelflight picked it up, it bit her on the chin.

Myrtlebloom purred. What about the time he got stuck in the Sky Oak?

Heat spread through Nightheart’s pelt. Okay, okay. He waved his tail at his two friends. Would they mention how many times he’d failed his assessment next? Sunbeam doesn’t have to know every embarrassing mistake I made when I was an apprentice.

Yes, I do. Sunbeam’s whiskers twitched. I want to know everything about you.

Lilyheart and Sparkpelt were padding toward them.

Bayshine’s eyes sparkled mischievously. What about the time he got stuck headfirst in a rabbit burrow and Lilyheart had to dig him out? He blinked at the small, dark tabby she-cat as she reached them. You remember that, right?

Of course. Lilyheart’s whiskers twitched. But he did manage to catch a rabbit while he was down there. She glanced affectionately at Nightheart.

Sparkpelt halted beside her. Nightheart always found his own way of doing things.

Nightheart eyed his mother uncertainly. Was she criticizing him?

She hadn’t finished. I really think he has the makings of a great warrior.

Nightheart relaxed. Since he’d returned, his mother had been treating him as though he were a different cat from the one who’d left ThunderClan. It felt like she respected him now.

He watched Sparkpelt as she dipped her head to Sunbeam. I’m pleased he’s found a mate who loves him enough to switch Clans, she mewed. He deserves it.

Nightheart blinked at her. Perhaps it was good that he’d left. But I’m glad I came back.

If you need any help finding your way around ThunderClan territory, just let me know, Lilyheart told Sunbeam. I’ll be happy to show you around.

Nightheart felt a wave of gratitude to his former mentor. To all his Clanmates. Before he’d left, he’d felt criticized and unappreciated, as though no cat in his Clan—not even his kin—had really understood him. It was the reason he’d decided to join ShadowClan. Not the only reason, of course. He glanced at Sunbeam. The white patches in her soft brown fur looked snowy in the early evening light. He’d wanted to become her mate. But now that he’d returned, he felt accepted and valued in a way he never had before. Even Finchlight, his littermate, had welcomed him home warmly, as though she’d never been angry at him for leaving.

Joining ShadowClan had been tough. Sunbeam’s mother, Berryheart, seemed to have a grudge against any cat who hadn’t been born in ShadowClan. But that wasn’t why he’d come home. He’d left too many things unresolved here, and it had been hard to witness Bramblestar struggling as ThunderClan’s leader. He’d wanted to help. And now that conflict loomed between the Clans, he knew he had to stand with the warriors who’d raised him.

His pelt prickled uneasily at that thought. Sunbeam was still chatting with Sparkpelt and Bayshine. She seemed so at home. But what would she do if ThunderClan found itself at war with ShadowClan? She’d already admitted to him that she didn’t know if she’d be able to fight her former Clanmates. Faced with a battle against ShadowClan, would she stay?

Should we share out the prey? Poppyfrost mewed from beside the fresh-kill pile, which still lay untouched.

Is there enough? Lionblaze padded toward the pile. It looked full, but Lionblaze seemed worried. The golden warrior had been on edge all day. Perhaps we should send out another hunting patrol, he mewed.

It’s a little late, isn’t it? Poppyfrost frowned. Besides, Squirrelflight and Bramblestar will be leaving for the Moonpool soon. We should all be here to see them off. She glanced at Squirrelflight as though hoping for an answer, but the ThunderClan deputy didn’t seem to have heard her. She was pacing at the bottom of the rock tumble, lost in thought.

Ivypool crossed the clearing. It’s never too late to catch prey, she mewed. A hunting patrol could go out with the border patrol once Squirrelflight and Bramblestar have left.

It sounds like a good idea to me. Bramblestar was stretching below the Highledge. The ThunderClan leader looked more relaxed than he had in moons. Are you ready, Squirrelflight?

At the sound of her name, Squirrelflight finally looked around. Almost. She glanced at Alderheart. The dark ginger medicine cat was darting back and forth, gathering up the poppy seeds Jayfeather was scattering as he tried to ease them with his claws from a dried seed head. You should have something to eat, Squirrelflight called to him. Her gaze flicked toward Nightheart. And you, she mewed.

Me? He blinked at her in surprise.

I want you to come with us.

Nightheart saw his mother’s gaze light up with pride. He felt a rush of joy. Had Squirrelflight chosen him to show him that she trusted him? That she respected him as a warrior now? The thought pleased him, but anxiety tugged in his belly. Going with Squirrelflight and Bramblestar to the Moonpool would mean leaving Sunbeam with the Clan. They’d be kind to her, but she might feel uncomfortable alone with Clanmates she barely knew. He looked at her. Will you be okay? he whispered.

Yes. She lifted her chin. She must have guessed what an honor this was. "I think I can survive one night without you." She was making light of it, but he knew by the prickling of her pelt along her spine that she was nervous.

The Clan began taking prey from the pile. Poppyfrost carried a shrew to Alderheart and dropped a mouse beside Nightheart.

Nightheart offered to share his mouse with Sunbeam, but she insisted he eat it all and shared a squirrel with Myrtlebloom instead. His paws were fizzing with excitement. He could barely swallow, but he forced himself to eat every morsel. He could still hardly believe he’d been asked to join Squirrelflight and Bramblestar on one of the most important journeys of their lives.

At last, the sun disappeared behind the treetops and Squirrelflight padded to the middle of the clearing. She looked around at the warriors scattered around the camp.

We’ll be back before sunhigh, she promised as Bramblestar got to his paws and crossed the camp to stand beside her. And when we return, I hope StarClan will have accepted me as your leader.

Lionblaze’s pelt ruffled. Are you determined to do this?

It’s okay if you want to change your mind, Poppyfrost added.

We’re not changing our minds, Squirrelflight told her.

We’ve given it a lot of thought. Bramblestar’s gaze was solemn. Squirrelflight will make a better leader than I can be now.

You might feel differently in a few moons, Lilyheart called. Once you’ve rested, you might feel like your old self.

Bramblestar looked back at her darkly. I don’t think I’ll ever be my old self again, he mewed. But I can still be a good Clanmate, even in the elders’ den. I think we all know that this is what’s best for ThunderClan.

Nightheart could remember how courageous and energetic Bramblestar had been before Ashfur had stolen his body. Bramblestar’s soul had roamed the forest for moons, unseen and unheard, neither dead nor alive, until the villainous warrior had finally been driven out. The experience, and his time as a captive in the Dark Forest, had changed the ThunderClan leader. He’d struggled for moons now, his energy sapped and his concentration in tatters, and Nightheart was relieved that the noble warrior he’d admired and respected since he was a kit was now taking time to care for himself.

His Clanmates murmured uneasily to each other. Even though Bramblestar would be happier as an elder than as leader, the change clearly worried them.

Sparkpelt stepped forward, shooting a challenging glance at her Clanmates. Squirrelflight will make a great leader, she called out confidently.

It’s right she should take Bramblestar’s place, Twigbranch agreed.

But what if StarClan refuses to give her nine lives? Lionblaze fretted. "We don’t know that they’ll agree