4. The Lies of a Father

"C'mon, Stonefeather, lets go already!" Shalepaw was impatient to get out of the camp. Stonefeather was his mentor, the best warrior in all WindClan. In all four Clans, thought Shalepaw proudly. The young apprentice had only just reached six moons, and was filled with enthusiasm for his new life.

It was his first fighting lesson, or was supposed to be. His mentor, a strong, grey tom who dwarfed the other cats in the Clan, was lingering by the leader's den, talking to Wildstar. Although he wasn't the deputy – rumour had it that when Wildstar had become leader, he'd offered Stonefeather the job, but he'd refused – Stonefeather still had a lot to do with the running – and defence – of the Clan.

"If we don't keep a better eye on ShadowClan, then the dales are lost," he was saying emphatically, in a whisper not meant to reach Shalepaw's ears.

"The warriors are overstretched already," snapped Wildstar in reply. There had been many extra patrols of late, one reason everyone was glad for Shalepaw's apprentice ceremony. There were only two other apprentices, Darkpaw and Threepaw, and less warriors than there should have been, owing to the difficult leaf-bare and a savage attack from ShadowClan less than a moon ago. Darkpaw's mentor Rattooth had been killed, and the apprentice still didn't have a new one. He'd only just gotten out of the medicine den, recovering from wounds to his leg. The battle had been inconclusive, so everycat was on edge for another ShadowClan incursion. Besides which, RiverClan had been getting restless in past moons, having been unable to hunt in their frozen river throughout leaf-bare. Now, a moon or so into new-leaf, most of the Clan had relaxed, reasonably sure that that Clan wouldn't attack without desperation. But Stonefeather, ever untrusting, wasn't so sure.

"Go. Your apprentice is waiting," said Wildstar, a little kinder. He disliked arguing, especially with his valued friend and aide. With a twist of his lip to show his irritation, Stonefeather nodded to his leader and swept out of camp, Shalepaw bobbing excitedly in his wake.

"Stand over there, Shalepaw," instructed Stonefeather when they reached the dip in the hills that was used for battle training. The sun was just over the horizon, filling the hollow with light.

"Now. I'm going to attack you, and you see if you can defend yourself," continued his mentor as Shalepaw bounded into position and dropped into a passable imitation of a battle crouch. Then Stonefeather sprang, and Shalepaw had time only to bat at the air with his paws before his mentor bowled him over and put a claw to his throat.

"Speed," said Stonefeather, letting his apprentice get up and shake the dust from his fur, "is the essence of fighting. Not only do you have to learn battle moves, but you have to be able to use them swiftly. Again."

Stonefeather and Shalepaw worked hard until the sun was high in the sky. As they returned to camp, the exhausted apprentice glanced at his mentor and said quietly, "Tell me about my father."

Shalepaw had never known his father, and his mother had died giving birth to him. Stonefeather, who'd taken care of Shalepaw whilst he was a kit, being like an uncle to him, was willing enough to talk about her.

"Rainwillow was a beautiful cat, and as kind as she was pretty. Everyone loved her," he would say, sadly. But when Shalepaw tried to ask about his father, Stonefeather's face would cloud. All he had told Shalepaw was that his father was a terrible cat, and he was better off not knowing. Shalepaw had had many theories; perhaps he was a warrior from another Clan, a rogue, even.

But now, as Shalepaw had known would happen, Stonefeather's eyes narrowed and he snarled, "Get back to camp. You can have the afternoon off." He spun on his paw and crashed away through the heather. Shalepaw lashed his tail in frustration. Stonefeather had always been close to Shalepaw, always known everything about him, even before Shalepaw knew it himself. And apparently, according to the elders' tales, Stonefeather had also been close to Rainwillow. They'd been friends. Shalepaw was sure that Stonefeather would know who Rainwillow had loved, if anyone did.

Then, suddenly, a new suspicion occurred to Shalepaw. After some careful thought, he had deduced that Stonefeather had loved Rainwillow. The way he spoke of her, and the look that came into his eyes. But Rainwillow hadn't loved him back, obviously – and so of course, Stonefeather would be bitter about the cat she had loved, which would explain why he called him 'terrible'. It would also explain why Stonefeather would take so much interest in an orphaned kit, even agreeing to mentor him after refusing to take on any other apprentice. So, Stonefeather had loved Rainwillow, and he hated the cat whom she had loved. But who had that been? Shalepaw thought he might have the answer. Frowning, he set off for camp alone, speeding up until he was flying through the heather.

Stonefeather pushed his way unseeing through the bushes that barred his way. Shalepaw had to stop asking! When was he just going to accept that Stonefeather would never tell him about his father, that terrible cat from Stonefeather's past? Shalepaw was better off not knowing what his father had done. He was better off without a father at all. Stonefeather would take care of him, not knowing. Reaching the cliff near the RiverClan border, Stonefeather slowed down. He looked over the brink to the river rushing far below. He came here often, when things got too much. He'd even considered jumping once or twice, but when it came down to it he just didn't have the nerve. Too many memories, dreams of an old ginger cat falling, down, down, like a bird without wings. Stonefeather could never jump. But he would wait here until his anger and regret and bitterness left him, until he could deal with the guilt.

Back at camp, Shalepaw sought out Stonefeather's closest friend, a warrior named Featherstone. They'd taken each other's names deliberately, a sign of their close bond. After the battle of the gorge, at which the pair had earned their warrior names, both had been quite distraught over the deaths of two WindClan elders. The story was that the two had intercepted one of the elders, and been very heroic trying to keep him from harm. Then Featherstone had been knocked unconscious, and Stonefeather had had to fight off three RiverClan warriors alone, whilst protecting the elder. But then one of the warriors had pushed the elder off a cliff. Stonefeather had tried to save him, but it was too late. Instead, he turned back to the battle, and fought off the warriors single-pawed. That was the story which old Yellowstripe had told him when he was a kit. But despite his heroics, Stonefeather had never been the same afterwards. It was because he thought he could have done more, although everycat knew that that wasn't true, Yellowstripe had said. In any case, it had led to a very tight friendship between Featherstone and Stonefeather. In recent seasons, however, their relationship had become strained, distant even, and they barely even spoke. Most of the cats could date this separation to around Rainwillow's death – and Shalepaw's own birth. "Everyone loved that cat," was Yellowstripe's sad comment when Shalepaw had asked about his mother. But maybe it was something more, realised Shalepaw now. Maybe it was because Rainwillow, the cat that Stonefeather had loved, had died bearing the kit of his best friend.

"Littleflower! Do you know where I might find Featherstone?" asked Shalepaw of his foster mother when he reached camp. The she-cat was just coming out of the warrior's den.

Littleflower looked confused, but answered, "He went hunting by himself near the ShadowClan border. Don't you go running off over there by yourself, now, Shalepaw!" she added as the apprentice went tearing off again. Shaking her head with a smile at her adopted son's antics, Littleflower made her way over to the fresh-kill pile.

Shalepaw did go running off over there by himself, too caught up in his excitement and nervousness to heed Littleflower's words. He found Featherstone neatly dispatching a hare in the heather, and called a greeting as the golden warrior began to bury his prey.

"Shalepaw. What are you doing here?" Featherstone's tone was cool. Shalepaw had always thought it was because he was a favourite of Stonefeather, whom Featherstone didn't like anymore, but now it took on new meaning.

"I need to ask you something," said Shalepaw. His heart was thudding in his ears and he was trembling.

"Well, spit it out then." Featherstone bent to finish burying the rabbit.

Shalepaw bit his lip, then blurted out, "Are you my father?"

Featherstone raised his head slowly, shock in his eyes.

"No. Whatever gave you that idea?" he said, too surprised to be tactful. Shalepaw's breath came out in a rush.

"I – I just - "

"Just what?" said Featherstone gently. He looked very sad now. "I didn't love Rainwillow, Shalepaw; not that way."

Shalepaw was silent. A bitter tear coursed its way down his face, unnoticed. He'd been so sure! Finding his father was the key to his life, it seemed to him. Once he knew, just knew, he'd know also who he was.

"Do you know – "

"Who he is? I knew him once. Long ago." said Featherstone, his voice full of grief that Shalepaw could not know, so young as he was.

"Long ago."

The next dawn, Stonefeather and Shalepaw were out patrolling, not officially but just to see the borders. Shalepaw tried to find his previous enthusiasm, but it was gone for the moment. His quest had hit a dead end, and it seemed he'd run out of meaning and purpose as well as ideas. Watching him, Littleflower knew something was wrong, and, being a smart cat, could hazard a guess at what, but she wasn't too concerned. Shalepaw would realise in time that one was not defined by one's parents, but by one's self. She did not actually know who Shalepaw's father was, but nor did she care. He was one of her sons.

"Over there is the RiverClan border. Fourtrees is very close," Stonefeather told his apprentice as they made their way across the moor. His tone was cordial, if not warm then not chilly and cruel as it had been the day before.

"There's a full moon in a few days. I'll ask Wildstar if you can go to the Gathering," he continued without any enthusiasm. Shalepaw didn't really care that much either, but he would be excited later.

The pair reached the great oak circle and stopped to gaze up at the gigantic trees. The forest on the other side rustled in the brisk new-leaf breeze. Shalepaw could almost see cats moving in the woods on the top of the rise, in what he could smell was ThunderClan territory. Then,

"Shalepaw! Get down!" yelled Stonefeather, moving into an attack position as something huge came crashing down through the Gathering clearing and threw itself at the two WindClan cats. Shalepaw only had time to register black and white fur before he was knocked to the ground. He struggled as the creature bared foul-smelling fangs at his face, but it was too heavy and too strong. Then Stonefeather tore it off him, and they rolled together past the great oaks. Shalepaw scrambled to his feet, staring wildly after the pair. He could see now that it was a badger, a huge one, covered in cuts and scrapes. Stonefeather shoved it away from him, slamming it against one of the oaks with enough force to shake some of its leaves loose, but the badger just shook its head and snarled as the warrior circled in a battle crouch, ready to attack. Shalepaw could hear raised voices and shouts on ThunderClan territory. But if they were coming to help they'd get here too late. The badger swiped at Stonefeather, who dodged the blow and retaliated with such speed that Shalepaw could barely see the blow. But the badger didn't even seem to care, and its next strike caught Shalepaw's mentor full on the side, sending him spiralling across the clearing into the great rock. Growling triumphantly, it made to move after him and finish him off, but Shalepaw, trying to be as brave as his fearless mentor, pounced on its back and dug his claws in. The badger snarled and snapped at him, but it couldn't shake him off. Then it rolled over, crushing the breath out of the apprentice. Shalepaw let go, and it staggered back onto its paws with surprising agility. Slashing cruelly at him with one of its enormous paws, it turned back to Stonefeather, still lying limp against the great rock. Shalepaw wrenched his head away as fiery pain flashed over the left side of his face. Shaking blood from his eyes, he pushed himself onto his side in time to see the ThunderClan patrol rushing down the slope and driving the badger off, back to the forest where they'd have the advantage in fighting it. They were so intent on their quarry that they didn't seem to notice either of the WindClan cats. Then there was silence in the clearing.

Shalepaw crawled over to where Stonefeather lay. One glance at the warrior told him that he was dying; the badger had ripped Stonefeather's flank to shreds, crushing his ribs. There was blood all around the grey tom, pooling underneath him.

"Stonefeather," gasped Shalepaw, shocked. Stonefeather blinked open an eye. He was breathing shallowly and with much effort, but still a look of concern flashed across his pain-drawn face.

"Shalepaw, you're hurt," he murmured, every word costing him. Shalepaw shook it away. He could barely feel it.

"Tell me, Stonefeather. You have to tell me now."

Stonefeather's eyes widened a little. "No." It was a whisper.

"Why not? Why not? I have to know!" Shalepaw said fiercely. He put a paw on his mentor's shoulder. "Tell me."

Stonefeather turned his head away. Then, with a sigh, he whispered, "I am."

Shalepaw staggered away in shock. "But – but no . . . Rainwillow didn't love you, that's why you were so angry all the time – "

"I wish she hadn't loved me. I wish you'd never been born!" Stonefeather's eyes were closed now, his voice stronger with pain that had nothing to do with his wounds. "She'd still be alive today if it weren't for me," he murmured, a single tear falling.

Shalepaw's face twisted into a war of expressions. Fulfilment, confusion, hatred.

"Why . . . ?" he choked.

"But that's not all," whispered Stonefeather, his eyes opening and staring wildly at the sky. Shalepaw got the impression that the warrior didn't really know where he was anymore, who he was talking to.

"I killed Crookedclaw. It was me, it was my fault. I never told anyone. I carried it, myself, I let them believe – "

"What?" His mentor – his father – wasn't a hero, at all. Wasn't anything but a lying old cat, who didn't even love his own son!

"I hate you!" shouted Shalepaw. "How could you do this to me? How could you do this?"

"Everything I touch . . . everything I loved . . . " Stonefeather murmured, so sadly.

Then his eyes came back to the present, and he focussed with difficulty on Shalepaw.

"I told you you were better off not knowing," he whispered then, face filled with sadness and regret at his apprentice's, his son's, words. Then, as Shalepaw opened his mouth to shout at him again, his eyes clouded and his breath left him with a sigh. He stared sightlessly up at the stars around the great rock, grief etched forever into his face. Shalepaw stepped away, tears running freely. He shook them away, and staggered out of the Gathering clearing, that circle of oaks where the truth lay dying. Tears and blood falling from his face, he came back to the WindClan border, but did not cross it. He could see in the distance on the moor, cats playing, cats who did not know or care that Shalepaw's father lay dead in the woods behind him, and dead in Shalepaw's own heart.