"Come, it's this way," Willowstar called over the mutters and wails. Hawkpaw flicked his ears edgily at the sound. Many of his Clan were shocked and wounded, and the overwhelming stench of fish and Riverclan unsettled them. They were close to their camp now. Hawkpaw could hear the frenzied activity of warriors preparing for the Windclan cats' arrival.
"It's too wet here," Frostpaw mewed, irritably twitching water from her muddy paws. Hawkpaw could barely recognize his sister limping beside him. Her white pelt was streaked with mud, and blood welled from where she'd knocked her shoulder when the bear had slammed into her. Hawkpaw flicked his tail lightly over her flank. The young she-cat wasn't usually this negative, but the attack had left her more scared than she was ready to admit. "I guess that's why they all say Riverclan cats have webbed feet," he agreed.
As they journeyed along the thickest part of the river, Hawkpaw peered around to assess the damage to his Clan for the first time since fleeing camp. The Riverclan warriors surrounded the Windclan cats, partly as protection and partly to keep them from seeing too much of the territory, Hawkpaw assumed.
Ravenfeather and Robinsong padded at the center, gently supporting Fernleaf between them. His mother could hobble now, but she was still in a dangerous state. Rockhead was nearby, watching anxiously as the three she-cats struggled, but whenever he stepped forward to help, Robinsong snarled at him and he jumped back. Hawkpaw swallowed a low growl at his medicine cat's stubbornness.
Harepelt and Swiftshadow padded alongside Berryfoot. She was heavily pregnant now, and Hawkpaw was grateful she hadn't started kitting when the bear struck. The cream she-cat kept pausing to tense up and groan, only to have Swiftshadow gently nudge her on. Hawkpaw prayed that her unborn kits hadn't somehow been hurt during the attack.
Lilypelt, Volefur, and Thistletooth were falling behind. Shepherdheart, who was keeping watch at the back, pushed them onward. "Only a little farther," he meowed encouragingly. It made Hawkpaw's fur bristle. They weren't kits!
"What's the point?" Volefur snapped. "Our camp is destroyed, our territory invaded. There's nothing left for Windclan." The elder looked up to the lightening sky with despair.
A glossy red Riverclan she-cat padded up to him. "Starclan wouldn't abandon you so. You must have faith!"
Volefur didn't reply. His patchy brown fur was marred with fresh wounds. Luckily they weren't deep, and they'd stopped bleeding. Still, Hawkpaw wondered if the old tom would recover. He glanced at Flowerbelly, who, despite a wound on her throat trickling blood, determinedly led the shattered Windclan cats onward.
It was then Hawkpaw noticed that Marshstar wasn't with them.
Blinking with shock, he frantically whipped his head around, opening his jaws wide to catch any trace of the Windclan leader. The last time he'd seen his mentor was when Marshstar led a frontal assault against the bear in order to save time for Berryfoot to flee from camp.
"What is it?" Frostpaw asked grimly, noticing his sudden tension.
Hawkpaw didn't want to worry his sister further. It was clear his Clan mates were too exhausted and afraid to notice or question Marshstar's absence. "Nothing, I just need to ask Flowerbelly something."
He left Frostpaw and quickened his pace until he was walking alongside the Windclan deputy. "I couldn't help but notice that we're missing our leader," he hissed.
Flowerbelly twitched her ears, but she didn't look at him. "We lost sight of him in the fighting," she mewed quietly, for Hawkpaw's ears alone. "I decided that it wasn't worth risking the Clan to go on looking for him. Shoalblaze and Rushwind are out searching, but…" she trailed off, finally turning to gaze at Hawkpaw mournfully. "Marshstar is on his last life."
The ground seemed to shift beneath his paws. Marshstar had been leader since before Hawkpaw was born. He couldn't be dead. He shook his head disbelievingly. "He's out there. We'll find him."
Flowerbelly didn't look like she believed him, but she briefly rested her nose between his ears.
Willowstar padded up to Flowerbelly, identifying her as Windclan's stand-in leader. "Our camp is through here," she mewed softly, pointing her muzzle towards a reed bed across the river. "You can all rest there and we'll treat your wounds. When the sun rises, I'll send out a patrol to search for a temporary camp for you close by."
The black-and-white she-cat dipped her head gratefully. "Thank you Willowstar. If I may ask…" Flowerbelly hesitated before going on. "How is it you knew we were in trouble? Did Starclan send a sign?"
"Our previous medicine cat, Flaretail, appeared to Rockhead's apprentice," the Riverclan leader replied thoughtfully. "He told Shellpaw to send help and to bring you all here."
Hawkpaw narrowed his eyes. So it was that young insistent she-cat whom Starclan had spoken to. Could that mean she'd been telling the truth about her prophecy too?
When they reached the shore, Windclan muttered and shifted fearfully.
"If they think I'm going swimming, they've got another thing coming," Spottedsky growled. Meanwhile Lilypelt had collapsed on the pebbles, panting with exhaustion. Thistletooth nudged his mate as Rockhead padded over to examine the ginger-and-white she-cat.
Willowstar confidently plunged into the dark water. She swept forward like a fish, her light silver body carving a path through the rippling waves. She stopped halfway across and turned back to the weary Windclan cats. "The current is the gentlest here. It's the safest crossing on this side of the territory." She paddled back to them, her fur dripping dry as she began to coax the reluctant cats into the river.
Flowerbelly waded in first. Her shoulders tensed when the water sucked at her belly, but she flicked her tail for her Clan mates to follow. Hawkpaw watched as Lilypelt staggered up and followed Thistletooth into the current. The red Riverclan she-cat guided Volefur with her tail as they worked their way forward. A tabby apprentice pressed against Frostpaw as he pushed her into the water. He stayed by her side as she fought to keep her head above the water.
Hawkpaw was about to follow them when he spotted Fernleaf, Ravenfeather and Robinsong staring forlornly at the river. Despair paralyzed Hawkpaw for a heart beat. Fernleaf could barely stand, let alone work up enough energy to swim. Hawkpaw bounded over to his mother.
"We'll just have to support her as best we can," Robinsong meowed.
Rockhead, who had just sent off Berryfoot in the capable paws of Shepherdheart, came over to inspect Fernleaf's wounds. Robinsong hissed an angry warning, but the Riverclan tom tactfully ignored her. "You don't have the strength to make it on your own," he told his patient. "And your Clan mates don't have the experience to keep you afloat. Two of us will have to support you." He flicked his tail, beckoning a small golden she-cat over.
"We can handle her on our own, thanks," Robinsong meowed coolly.
Hawkpaw growled furiously, but before he could snap at the medicine cat, Ravenfeather stuffed her tail over his nose. "I'm still recovering from my wounds from the first bear attack, Robinsong," she meowed diplomatically. "Fernleaf's safety is more important than our pride." Her blue-green eyes flashed warningly, reminding Hawkpaw of her father, Marshstar.
"You're all forgetting that I can speak for myself," Fernleaf purred, her gaze sparkling with humour. She sounded like the old Fernleaf, before anyone had even known a bear could exist. "Since you've all brought me this far, I have a pretty good feeling that you won't drown me today." Although her tone was light, her body was stiff with pain.
Hawkpaw flicked his tail impatiently. "Are we going to stand around here all night?" He wanted his mother resting and full of herbs as soon as possible.
Robinsong said nothing, but she stepped back and allowed Rockhead and the Riverclan warrior into the water with Fernleaf between them. Something touched his shoulder and Hawkpaw turned to look at Ravenfeather.
"Do you want to help each other across?" she asked. Hawkpaw was grateful for her clever interference; he didn't want to swim alone, but he didn't want to seem cowardly either.
When they were all safely across, Willowstar led the way into the Riverclan camp. It was strange, to say the least. The river parted two close islands. The large one clearly hosted most of the camp. A great willow tree grew beside it, stretching across and shading a good portion of the island. Dens made of reeds, bark, and moss lay scattered throughout.
The second island was smaller, and seemed to only contain one big den. The scent of herbs wafting around it proved that it was the medicine den. Shellpaw peered out from it to take in the new arrivals. She bounded through the water without hesitation and went to address her mentor.
The Windclan cats were herded to the center of the island. Hawkpaw found Flowerbelly and sat down near her. If anything important would happen, it would be shared with his deputy. Frostpaw padded up to join him.
"Where's Marshstar?" she demanded. Her eyes were glassy and her hackles stood on end. She wasn't the only one with bristling fur. The cats who hadn't noticed their leader's absence before were starting to panic now. Their fearful cries spread until all of Windclan was wailing with grief.
Frostpaw's eyes were wide with shock, finally coming to the dreadful realization. "How can Marshstar be dead?"
"He's not dead," Hawkpaw insisted stubbornly. "There's no proof of that."
He watched as Willowstar leaped up through the big tree, closely followed by Flowerbelly. They nimbly weaved through spindly twigs until they were situated on a thick branch a few tail-lengths above the ground. Hawkpaw guessed this was similar to the hill above Marshstar's den used to address the Clan. Shepherdheart yowled for silence, and gradually the feline-clogged island quieted. Willowstar told the cats below what she'd told Flowerbelly earlier.
"We also have a search party out for Marshstar," she soothed. "If he is out there, we'll find them."
Hawkpaw didn't understand how the Riverclan leader could make such promises. Windclan territory was dangerous now, and she wouldn't risk her warriors' lives even to locate a missing leader. Hawkpaw shivered as the events of the night caught up to him.
He remembered waking to the sound of a terrifyingly familiar roar and the warning yowl of Swiftshadow, who'd been on guard duty. It was then a long blur of blood and fear as Hawkpaw fought to protect the lives of his Clan mates. He remembered plunging into the medicine den to help guide his wounded mother from the horrors of the camp. And then, like a blessing from Starclan, the Riverclan warriors had arrived. But even with the combined power of two Clans, the bear couldn't be stopped. All that was left was to flee to Riverclan territory, the only goal being survival.
It was then that Hawkpaw realized that they hadn't truly driven off the bear when it first appeared. It had simply lost interest in them. But now its gaze was turned on the Clans, and it wasn't going to stop unless they fought back. But even with two Clans of warriors, it couldn't be stopped. The bear didn't follow them in their retreat, happy with its newly won prize. Hawkpaw knew that Willowstar would never abandon her warriors to that, not even for a good cause.
Suddenly a dreadful moan rose up from Windclan. Hawkpaw jumped to his aching paws. Great Starclan, what now? He pushed forward, the source of the cries coming from Berryfoot. She was stretched out on the grass, twitching and convulsing. Her huge belly rippled and tensed rapidly. Robinsong shoved forward and gently pressed her paw to the queen's stomach.
"I know what's wrong," a gray-and-white Riverclan queen mewed. "She's kitting."
Robinsong snorted, giving the queen a hostile glance. "Thank you. I didn't know Riverclan had three medicine cats."
Undaunted by Robinsong's harsh gaze, the queen stepped forward. "Berryfoot and her kits need shelter. There's enough space in our nursery."
Robinsong peeled her lips back in the beginnings of a snarl, but before she could speak, Flowerbelly approached, followed by Willowstar, Rockhead, and Shellpaw.
"You can lead Berryfoot to the nursery, Robinsong," the Windclan deputy ordered. "Rockhead and his apprentice can take care of her while you treat the wounded out here. They have graciously allowed you to take full advantage of their herb stores while they work. I expect you to treat any wounded Riverclan warriors as well." Without giving Robinsong a chance to protest, she briskly padded away, clearly dismissing her.
Robinsong looked furious, but when Berryfoot moaned desperately she didn't hesitate to pull her to her paws. With the queen leaning heavily on her, Robinsong huffed to Rockhead, "You'd better show me where each and every herb is so I can work as efficiently as possible."
"Of course," Rockhead mewed kindly. Hawkpaw swore there was a glimmer of amusement in the young tom's eyes. Shellpaw, in comparison, was staring at Robinsong with open frustration. So I'm not the only one, Hawkpaw mused.
When the three medicine cats disappeared into what was presumably the nursery, Hawkpaw took in the crowded camp. Most of the excitement had died down, and the Riverclan cats were drifting off into their dens. He wrinkled his nose at that. How could they rest in such a stuffy, confined sleeping place?
The Windclan cats sheltered throughout the island. Volefur was curled up under some bracken between Spottedsky and Harepelt, who were working together to lick clean the blood and dirt from his pelt.
Without any kits to defend, and their only queen in the nursery, the warriors rested in a cluster in the middle of the island. Frostpaw sat with them.
Flowerbelly, Willowstar, and Shepherdheart sat a tail-length or so from a hollow in the big tree, whispering fiercely to each other. Hawkpaw wished he could listen in, but he knew it would look suspicious if he sat by himself in a different Clan's camp. So he went to join his sister with the warriors.
Most of them were curled up, but Hawkpaw could tell that none of them were sleeping. Their bodies were tense, their eyes bright in the early morning gloom. Robinsong padded up to them with a bundle of herbs in her jaws. She still appeared angry, but that didn't stop her from caring for her Clan mates.
The breeze picked up, bringing with it unfamiliar scents. Hawkpaw was suddenly washed with homesickness. Would Windclan ever see their home again? Seeming to sense his uneasiness, Frostpaw shifted closer and began to tiredly groom his messy fur.
Three Riverclan cats emerged from a den and padded out through the reed barrier. Another patrol left soon after. Hawkpaw guessed they were out hunting to feed the Clans. He wanted to go on a hunting patrol of his own, but his battered body didn't seem to agree with him.
The reeds rustled again, and Hawkpaw tensed when two warriors emerged. They were the cats Willowstar had sent out to search for Marshstar. Since they were alone, the news probably wasn't good, but Hawkpaw strained to listen to them as they reported to their leader.
"We didn't go very far," explained a sleek black tom. "The stench of that thing was everywhere. We could barely pick out any other scents."
Willowstar nodded. "That's fine, Rushwind. I told you not to take risks."
"We're also not too familiar with Marshstar's individual scent," went on the second warrior, who had to be Shoalblaze. "The bear seems to have made the Windclan camp into its own den. I think it was sleeping when we returned, but we didn't dare stop to look. We skirted the outside, and caught a very faint scent trail." He exchanged a glance with Rushwind, and Hawkpaw couldn't help but imagine the trail leading to the mangled corpse of his leader. Flowerbelly leaned forward, and even Hawkpaw could see her whiskers trembling.
"There was more blood than cat in that scent," Shoalblaze warned. "It led through the hills toward Thunderclan territory, but it faded and we couldn't pick it up again."
Shepherdheart flicked his tail. "So he is still missing."
The two warriors nodded.
Willowstar turned and rested her tail on Flowerbelly's shoulder. "No body means no death," she reminded the Windclan deputy gently.
Flowerbelly closed her eyes, her face unreadable. A cry from the nursery caught her and Hawkpaw's attention. Shellpaw emerged and raced to the medicine den, coming back moments later with more herbs. When she disappeared into the nursery again, Hawkpaw looked back at Flowerbelly.
She had left Willowstar and was padding over to join her Clan mates. Volefur, Harepelt, and Spottedsky left the bracken to walk with her. Hawkpaw nudged Frostpaw, who'd been drifting off beside him. The rest of the Clan huddled in to listen to what their deputy had to say.
"For those of you who haven't heard, Marshstar is still missing," she declared. Windclan stared sullenly at her. Comfortable under their scrutiny, she continued.
"Willowstar has sent out two hunting patrols, and we will all be fed shortly."
"I don't want fish-eaters catching prey for me!" Swiftshadow protested, unsheathing his claws.
"I'm not done," Flowerbelly meowed sternly. "As soon as Robinsong says you're ready, you may take part in their patrols."
Hawkpaw was surprised that Willowstar would allow enemy warriors to learn Clan hunting secrets. But then again, she'd led them to the heart of their camp, so this wasn't too far out there.
"In the meantime, another patrol is going to find a suitable place close by to make a temporary camp," Flowerbelly continued.
"And then what?" demanded Lilypelt. "We can't stay here forever!"
"But we can't go back home either," Thistletooth pointed out.
"I might have to speak to the other leaders before making a decision," Flowerbelly meowed. "But for now, we'll just have to make due."
"Is Flowerbelly leader now?" whispered Frostpaw in her brother's ear.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Right now the Clan listens to her, but she has to receive nine lives from Starclan before she can be called Flowerstar."
"If Marshstar is dead," mewed a voice behind them. Hawkpaw turned his head to glance shamefully at Ravenfeather. It had to be hard, not knowing if her father was dead or not, and when her Clan was already beginning to treat his deputy as their new leader.
Looking straight at her, he echoed, "If he is dead."