Chapter 3

"Phew!" Snowspots collapsed on the ground at the end of the long day's training. The wind had picked up considerably. "I'm worn out, how about you?"

"No..." Was it strange that Waterpaw wasn't the slightest bit tired after a full day of battle training? Definitely, he decided. But why was it that he was never tired?

"You aren't?" Snowspots' voice betrayed her slight surprise. "I can't imagine anything better than curling up in my nest right now. Maybe I'm just getting old." They both knew it was a joke—Snowspots had only been a warrior for a few moons. But Waterpaw couldn't figure out why he still wasn't tired.

Then a thought occurred to him. The prophecy? Could it have something to do with this? He didn't have time to wonder as Snowspots continued to talk.

"Well anyway, you were excellent today. At this rate you'll be a warrior before you know it. I'm amazed how well you did that leap-and-twist."

"Uhh, thanks."

Waterpaw was hit with a gust of cold air as they went from the forest to the exposed hillside. It was even windier out here, the gale threatening to sweep Waterpaw off his paws this time. He dug his claws into the ground as the wind buffeted his fur.

"Storm coming," Snowspots called over the torrent. "Let's hurry on back to camp."

Waterpaw obeyed gladly, picking up his pace. He stalked along the ridge, his head down and his claws fighting for a grip on the earth.

The first icy drops fell just as he was bounding down the trail back into camp, his mentor close behind. Not a lot of the Clan was outside on a day like this, but the cats who were there hurried to get back in their dens as the rain began to fall. Snowspots ducked into the warriors' cave with a last nod to Waterpaw, and the pale gray tom hurried down the path to the apprentices' den.

Robinpaw was already huddled in her nest. Her dark gray pelt was a mess, stained with a few drops of the rain that was already coming down steadily by now. She was rasping her tongue over it now, untangling her matted fur with her teeth. She looked up as Waterpaw entered.

"Brr!" she exclaimed. "It's nasty out there, isn't it? I hope the wind doesn't blow too much rain in here." She was right: the wind was driving some of the freezing water into the corner of the cave, right onto the nest that used to be Pebblestorm's. "At least most of the cave is dry."

"Where's Fishpaw?" Waterpaw asked. The red-furred apprentice was nowhere to be seen. "He's not still out training, is he?" Just the thought of being out in this weather made him shiver.

"I'm not sure. Maybe he and Bluefang got caught in the storm. I hope they can find some shelter."

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll be fine." Waterpaw hoped he sounded more sure than he felt. What if they weren't?

"Your fur's a mess." Robinpaw was just finishing grooming her own pelt. "Get in here and get dried off."

"Watch out." Waterpaw shook the water from his pale gray fur, sending water droplets spinning in every direction. Robinpaw ducked away from the freezing raindrops that showered the cave.

The young apprentice ignored the dark gray she-cat's hiss of displeasure and sat down in his own nest to begin grooming his pale fur. He looked up as flash of lightning illuminated the den, followed by an enormous clap of thunder. Waterpaw pressed himself flat to the floor and squeezed his eyes shut, his ears flattened. It seemed to drag out for moons until it finally gave way to the sound of the howling wind. All SkyClan cats hated thunder.

All except Robinpaw, it seemed. "It's alright," she mewed when she could make herself heard. "It's just thunder. I'm going to sleep. You must be tired too, I heard you did battle training today."

"Er—right." Waterpaw didn't see the point in explaining again that he wasn't tired—especially when he couldn't explain it. Instead, he lay down in his nest, trying to get comfortable. But with the storm, on top of his restless nature, sleeping was almost impossible. Just as he was finally beginning to get relaxed, Fishpaw came in.

"Great StarClan, it's awful out there!" He shook the rain from his reddish pelt, showering the whole den with water droplets. Robinpaw raised her head crossly.

"Don't be quiet or anything, because then some of us might actually be able to sleep."

"Sorry," her brother apologized.

"You want to tell us where you were?" Waterpaw asked.

"Oh, yeah, Bluefang sprained his paw, so going was pretty slow. He'll be fine, though," Fishpaw added.

Waterpaw nodded absently. Something had just caught his eye as another bolt of lightning illuminated the stormy sky. He could have sworn, in that fraction of a second, that he'd seen the silhouette of a cat on top of the cliff. Who could be out there at this time, and at the top of the cliff, no less?

"Guys, look. There's a cat out there, just standing at the top of the ridge."

Lightning split the sky again, but there was no sign of the figure Waterpaw was sure he'd seen. The young apprentice prayed that, whoever that had been, they'd found some sense and gotten off the rocky ledge. You wouldn't catch me up there even without the lightning and the slippery rocks.

"I don't see any cat," Robinpaw mewed.

"They've gone now. StarClan knows what they were doing up there."

"I hope they've found some shelter, then," Fishpaw replied. "Any idea who it could have been?"

"None at all. I hope they got down by themselves, and didn't fall."

"No kidding."

"Isn't this a fascinating conversation," Robinpaw interrupted. "I'm going to sleep now."

"I'm pretty tired too," Fishpaw admitted. "Aren't you?"

"Well—no, not really."

"Sure you're not. G'night."

Waterpaw felt a trace of resentment at Fishpaw for not believing him, but he couldn't really blame the reddish-brown tom. After all, why shouldn't he be tired? Not that it was a big deal anyway. The pale gray tom curled up in his nest and shut his eyes, trying to block out the sound of the thunder. But it was no use; he just wasn't going to get to sleep tonight.

Waterpaw got up and padded to the mouth of the cave. He stared out at the stormy sky, letting his mind drift. At first he wondered why he wasn't tired, then he thought of the prophecy. And then, the topic he could avoid no longer: their possible connection.

"What kind of power would that be?" he wondered aloud. "It seems so useless."

He sensed a sudden presence: the warm smell of him mother. "Owlstare?"

"It will be far more useful than you realize, little one. Have faith in your own ability. One day you'll find just how valuable it is."

"But what's the point? What's the use in staying awake all night?"

But Owlstare's scent had vanished. An enormous clap of thunder made Waterpaw flinch, and suddenly he felt father from his mother than ever.

"Why did you have to die? You could be here right now, to comfort me, tell me it's just a storm, that everything's going to be all right. Instead you're some wispy spirit reminding me that I have to save four Clans I've barely heard of." His words were whisked away by the wind, but Waterpaw didn't care. He didn't know who he was talking to anyway. All he knew was that StarClan had made a mistake. They'd chosen the wrong cat; whatever Owlstare said, he couldn't be the one in the prophecy.

He waited for her familiar scent to wreathe around him, for her warm breath in his ear and her words of assurance that he was more powerful than he thought. But they never came.

"Where are you?" he wailed into the stormy night, his words lost to another massive clap of thunder. "Have even you given up on me now?"

The only reply was a dog's distant baying and the sound of the howling wind.