Chapter 14
"There has never been a greenleaf like it," One-eye grumbled. "These woods are as dry as kits' bedding."
Tinyclaw couldn't help but agree. The sky had been empty of clouds for what seemed like a moon, and all the streams in ThunderClan territory had dwindled until the Clan had to trek all the way to Sunningrocks for river water.
He prayed to StarClan that rain would come soon. They had to know the Clans needed it – ThunderClan couldn't be the only Clan suffering in the drought. The worst part of it was that thirsty cats had to go closer and closer to where Brackenfur kept the ShadowClan cats to get water now, and the risk of them coming across the lingering scents of disease was growing high. The better part was that the worries about water put Cloudpaw and her whereabouts out of Tinyclaw's mind.
The sunhigh patrol had returned just now, and Frostfur was organizing some cats to go collect water. Nearly all the Clan stayed out of the sun, huddling in the shady edges of the clearing. It gave little protection, but it was a better feeling than baking in the direct sunlight.
"Why would StarClan send such a drought now?" Smallear wondered.
Tinyclaw flicked his ear, feeling the old cat's gaze linger on him for a moment. Tinyclaw didn't need to read minds to know that Smallear was thinking of broken ceremonies. Tinyclaw shivered.
"The dryness doesn't bother me so much as the Twolegs," One-eye rasped. Thankfully, there was no more comment on Smallear's statement. "Those things have been stamping about everywhere, scaring prey and ruining our scent markers with their stench. Some rain might drive them off!"
"I'm worried about Willowpelt," Speckletail meowed. She was gently grooming her deaf son Snowkit, huddled amongst the elders in the shade. She visited him often. "She has to travel so far to get water, and her kits are so young to be left alone for so long. But if she doesn't drink, her kits get no milk."
Patchpelt was nodding. "And the other youngins, too," he mused. "They might be on solid prey but they can't go out for water like a warrior can." The patched elder paused, then suggested, "Perhaps if we carried back moss soaked in water, they could drink from that?"
"A good idea," Tinyclaw agreed. I should have thought of that, he scolded himself. I can't put the nursery out of my mind just because one kit makes me uncomfortable. "Could you bring some back today?"
Patchpelt nodded.
"We'll all bring some," Speckletail promised.
"Thank you," Tinyclaw meowed. He blinked at the elders in respect – yet his heart sank. Cloudpaw would have jumped at the chance to help the elders in this task. She would have carried all their moss, too, before they could tell her they could handle it. She loved them. Tinyclaw forced away a frown. The worst thing was that the elders didn't even comment on her absence.
The entire Clan doesn't seem to care, he thought. Was he the only cat to have thought that Cloudpaw could have adapted to life in the Clan? Had they truly had so little faith in her from the beginning? Tigerstar was right – it had been Cloudpaw's decision – but it didn't stop Tinyclaw from missing her.
He called to Sandstorm and Cinderpelt, who were sharing a meal with Dustpelt. It seemed as if Sandstorm and Dustpelt were friends again – at least, they could stand one another's presence. Tinyclaw wondered how much that had to do with Cinderpelt, who was sitting unusually close to Dustpelt. At his call, though, the two she-cats got to their paws and headed over.
"Would you escort Smallear and the others?" Tinyclaw asked. He explained about the balls of water-soaked moss, and how it was for the queens and kits. "I don't know how close to the river they'll have to go, and I want them to have backup in case they run into a RiverClan patrol." He paused, looking them over. "I know you're probably tired, but Dustpelt will be taking Ashpaw out soon and someone needs to stay with Whitestorm to guard the camp."
"It's no problem," Cinderpelt assured him.
"I'm not tired, Tinyclaw," insisted Sandstorm. Her lovely green gaze fixed on him, and Tinyclaw trembled from head to paw.
Brackenfur's words from a few nights ago echoed in his mind – he was still not over it – and he couldn't help but clam up. A little too loudly, he squeaked, "Er, right." He bent down to lick his chest – was it warmer than he thought, or was it because of his black fur? His licking increased in briskness as Cinderpelt's whiskers twitched in amusement.
He was more than relieved when the two she-cats padded away. Dustpelt got to his paws a moment later to fetch Ashpaw, and soon the clearing was all but deserted. Whitestorm was with Tigerstar in his den. Willowpelt and Brindleface were in the nursery with the kits, keeping an eye on them. Mistykit had tottered out of the nursery on her own the other day, and nearly left the camp herself. The queens had been in a fuss, and Oakheart had been the one to track her down and bring her back – even though Tinyclaw had been closer, he just couldn't meet Mistykit's eyes.
Yet now as he listened to the kits' mewling inside the nursery, he couldn't help but worry. What if their mother couldn't produce enough milk? He couldn't help but worry about the patrols, too, and whether or not they would reach the river without issue. He pictured Sandstorm's pale orange pelt glowing softly in the sunshine – and then, with a jolt, he remembered the ShadowClan cats.
He shuddered and headed for Yellowfang's den. What if Brackenfur didn't send them away? He thought worriedly. What if they're still here, and one of the patrols caught them? Tinyclaw couldn't imagine the trouble he and Brackenfur would be in if that were the case.
Tinyclaw nearly bumped into Brackenfur as he limped out of the den's entrance. "What's the matter with you?" he spat indignantly. "Watch it!" His face was screwed up in irritation – he became more like Yellowfang every day – but when he read Tinyclaw's expression, his face softened. "Tinyclaw, I'm sorry – what's wrong?"
"Are they really gone?" Tinyclaw demanded. "Really?"
It took a moment for Brackenfur to realize what Tinyclaw was talking about. His eyes flashed with recognition, and he insisted, "We've been over this already, Tinyclaw."
"Are you sure?" Tinyclaw repeated.
"They promised to leave that very night," Brackenfur stated. His tone brooked no argument.
"And the sickness – is there any sign of it left?" Tinyclaw wondered.
Brackenfur's ear twitched. "Look," he sighed, "I have little time for this! I told them to leave, and they said they would. I need to get berries for Yellowfang before birds pick them all! If you don't believe, me, check for yourself."
A low growl sounded from within: "Why are you still here, Brackenfur?" Yellowfang demanded. "Those berries are the only moist thing in the forest, and animals will be lining up to get them!"
"Sorry," Brackenfur called over his shoulder. "Tinyclaw was talking to me." The golden-brown warrior flashed Tinyclaw a look of irritation.
"Well tell Tinyclaw to buzz off!" Yellowfang hissed impatiently. "If he's wasting your time, he'll have me to answer to!"
Tinyclaw felt a pang of quilt. Brackenfur turned back to Tinyclaw and sighed apologetically. "You're such a fretful old badger, aren't you?" he muttered. Brackenfur butted Tinyclaw on the shoulder affectionately. "Go check the root cave for yourself when you have the time. By StarClan's mercy, they are gone."
As Brackenfur limped past, Tinyclaw knew he was right – Tinyclaw would not be satisfied until he checked for himself. Yet he couldn't leave just now, since he and Whitestorm were the only two warriors in camp. Despite increasing the size of patrols in readiness for whatever Redtail's warning meant, two warriors needed to be in camp at all times.
His fur itched with worry. He padded away from the medicine cat's den and headed for the shade of the Highrock – only to spot Whitestorm headed towards him.
"Have you decided on the evening patrol yet?" the white warrior wondered as he drew close.
"I thought Runningwind might take Mousefur, Thornpaw, and Dustpelt when he returned from training Ashpaw," Tinyclaw replied.
"Good idea," Whitestorm agreed. His tone sounded distracted – something was on his mind, but it didn't take long for him to say it. "Could Swiftpaw go on the dawn patrol tomorrow?" he asked. "The experience would do him good, and I have been… neglecting him lately." Whitestorm's ear twitched.
With a twinge, Tinyclaw realized that Whitestorm had been spending an awful lot of time with Tigerstar lately. Their affection for one another was no secret, and Tigerstar always seemed in a better mood with Whitestorm around – yet Tinyclaw couldn't help but wonder if Whitestorm feared what might happen if he left Tigerstar alone for too long. Tinyclaw felt guilty that another cat had caught on to Tigerstar's weakness – but there was no better cat for that than Whitestorm, especially when it came to sharing worries.
"Of course," Tinyclaw agreed.
Together, they sat down in the shade of the Highrock. Whitestorm settled himself, drawing his thick tail over his paws. "It's quiet this afternoon," he remarked.
"Sandstorm and Cinderpelt went with the elders to fetch water for the queens and kits," Tinyclaw explained. "Patchpelt suggested soaking moss with water for easier transportation."
Whitestorm nodded. "An old trick," he agreed. "Perhaps they could share some with Tigerstar. He has been reluctant to leave the camp." Whitestorm's voice lowered. "He has been licking dew from the leaves every morning, but he needs more than just that."
Tinyclaw felt anxiety swell in his chest. "He seemed so much better the other day," he murmured.
"He gets better every day," Whitestorm assured, "but still, he…" Whitestorm held a deep frown, and Tinyclaw did not wish for him to go on. There was no need.
"I understand," Tinyclaw agreed. "I'll tell Patchpelt to bring her some when they return."
"Thank you," Whitestorm purred, relieved. He looked appraisingly at Tinyclaw. "You're doing very well, you know."
Tinyclaw flicked an ear. "What do you mean?"
"Being deputy," Whitestorm explained. "I know it hasn't been easy, with this drought and Tigerstar's… condition. Yet I know there isn't a cat in the Clan who could have handled this better than you – and I am not the only one who thinks so."
Tinyclaw flattened his ears. I can name a few who disagree… Dustpelt, for one, and the elders. Yet he realized he was being churlish – Whitestorm did not give out praise so easily. "Thank you, Whitestorm," he offered. He valued this cat's opinion just as much as Tigerstar's, and such praise warmed his pelt.
"And I am sorry about Cloudpaw," Whitestorm went on, his tone sympathetic. "He was your kin… it must be very hard for you. Clanborn cats sometimes take such things for granted."
Tinyclaw's eyes widened at Whitestorm's shrewdness. "Well, yes," he began awkwardly. "I miss her very much – not just because she was my kin, but I truly thought she could have been a great warrior in the end." Tinyclaw was surprised when he saw Whitestorm nodding beside him.
"She was a good hunter and a good friend to the other apprentices," Whitestorm agreed. "But perhaps StarClan has a different destiny for her. I am no medicine cat – I cannot read the stars or listen to the wind like Yellowfang or Brackenfur, but I have always been willing to trust our warrior ancestors. They only want what is best for us."
Tinyclaw could only stare at the noble warrior beside him. How could he ever measure up to someone like Whitestorm, so loyal and strong? If Cloudpaw had one whisker of Whitestorm's respect she might have…
A clattering of stones at the camp entrance made Tinyclaw break off his thought. Both he and Whitestorm jumped to their paws. Tinyclaw was through the camp entrance just as Speckletail burst down the ravine, tail puffed out in anger. The others were following, scattering pebbles and dust as they came.
"Twolegs!" Speckletail cursed.
Tinyclaw looked up. Sandstorm and Cinderpelt had burst from the woods, with their pelts fluffed. Together, the she-cats were helping the elders down, going boulder-to-boulder.
"It's all right," Cinderpelt huffed. "We lost them."
When they were all at the bottom, Sandstorm explained, still gasping for breath: "There was a group of young ones – they chased us!"
Tinyclaw's fur bristled with alarm. "Are you all right?" he demanded.
Sandstorm glanced at the elders, then she nodded.
"Good," Tinyclaw breathed, steadying himself. "Where were they, then? By the river?"
"We hadn't even made it to Sunningrocks!" Sandstorm huffed. "They were loose in the forest, traipsing about! Not even on their paths." Her eyes glittered with indignation.
Tinyclaw tried hiding his worry. Twolegs very rarely came into this part of the forest. "We will have to wait until dusk to fetch water," he decided.
"Will they be gone then, you think?" One-eye rasped.
Tinyclaw glanced up at the cloudless sky. "Why should they stay?" he wondered. "Twolegs need rest, just as we do." In his experience, Twolegs were always less active at night – but who could truly predict them?
"But what about Willowpelt and the kits?" Smallear wondered. His coat was caked with dust, his folded-over ears twitching. "They'll need water before dark."
"I'll go," Sandstorm offered.
"No," Tinyclaw interjected, "I will." Fetching the water would give him the perfect excuse to go looking for the ShadowClan cats, and keep any others from possibly finding them. He glanced at Sandstorm. "I'll need you to stay at the top of the ravine and keep a look out for Twolegs. I won't have them discovering the camp." At One-eye's whimper, Tinyclaw meowed, "I'm sure they'll have gone back by now, but I want Sandstorm on guard just in case. You'll be safe with her watching about." He knew deep in his heart that Sandstorm would die to defend her Clan.
"I'll go with you, then," Cinderpelt offered.
Tinyclaw shook his head. He didn't need someone else wondering what he was going on about. Brackenfur's deed had been foolish, but good – yet Tinyclaw knew that the Clan would not think so, not even his sister. "You'll need to guard the camp with Whitestorm," he told her. "And I want you to report what happened to Tigerstar. I'll carry as much back as I can – the rest of you can wait until sunset."
The others seemed to agree. Tinyclaw and Sandstorm climbed up the ravine together. There was no scent of Twolegs here, thankfully.
"Be careful," Sandstorm whispered, brushing close against him.
Tinyclaw's pelt warm, and he turned and licked her between the ears. "I will," he promised softly.
Green eyes met ice-blue for a long moment, and then Tinyclaw turned away and hared into the trees. He crept warily through the forest, slipping between the thickest undergrowth he could find. His senses were strained to catch any sign of Twolegs – but as he approached Sunningrocks, their unnatural stench was staling.
Tinyclaw turned and cut through the woods. The land sloped up here to run along the RiverClan border. As he checked for RiverClan patrols, he kept his eye open for the big gray head of his friend, Graystripe. Yet there was no sign of cats in the airless forest. Tinyclaw would be able to fetch water from the stream without disruption – but first, he needed to check the ancient oak.
He headed along the border, stopping to smell scent markers and freshen ThunderClan's in between. The newleaf lushness was gone even here, the leaves shriveled and worn from a lack of water and too much sunshine. It seemed that the river's water could not reach this far. Tinyclaw soon came upon the gnarled oak, with its dusty cave.
Tinyclaw breathed in deeply. The stench of sickness had gone. With a sigh of relief, Tinyclaw decided to take a quick look inside before going to fetch the water. He bent down and peered into the dark hole, stretching his neck to look for recent signs of ShadowClan occupation.
He let out a startled gasp as a great weight slammed down onto his back, claws grasping at his sides. Fear and rage pulsed through him as he yowled, twisting violently to shake off his attacker. But the cat who had ambushed him had greater size, and the ambush made it difficult for Tinyclaw to shake off the firm hold. Tinyclaw prepared himself for thorn-sharp claws to drag at his flanks, but the paws that battered him were sheathed.
A familiar scent filled Tinyclaw's nostrils. A scent he would have known anywhere.
"Graystripe!" Tinyclaw meowed joyfully.
"I thought you'd never come to see me," Graystripe meowed playfully.
Graystripe slipped from his back, and Tinyclaw realized that his friend's gray pelt was soaking. Tinyclaw's own black pelt was damp now, and he gave it a shake. It felt good against the heat, but he stared in amazement at Graystripe's soaked pelt. "You swam across the river?" he meowed in amazement.
Nodding, Graystripe gave himself a quick shake. Water spun easily from his pelt which now had a glossy sheen on its thickness. "It's quicker than going across the stepping-stones," he meowed. "Besides, my fur doesn't seem to hold the water in any more. One of the advantages of eating fish, I suppose."
"About the only one, I imagine," Tinyclaw remarked. He couldn't imagine eating the strong flavor of fish appealing to him. He much rather preferred the musky flavor of ThunderClan prey.
"It's not so bad once you get used to it," Graystripe said.
"But you'd eat anything," Tinyclaw countered.
Graystripe looked warmly at Tinyclaw. "You look well," he meowed.
"You, too," Tinyclaw purred.
"How is everyone?" Graystripe wondered. "Is Dustpelt still a pain? How is Tigerstar?"
"Dustpelt is fine," Tinyclaw meowed, "better than fine. And Tigerstar, is…" Suddenly he trailed off. Graystripe was his friend, but he was also an enemy warrior. How much could he truly tell?
"What's up?" Graystripe wondered, narrowing his eyes.
Tinyclaw flinched, realizing that Graystripe knew him far too well. He flicked his ears self-consciously.
"T-Tigerstar is all right, isn't he?" Graystripe's voice was thick with concern.
"He's fine," Tinyclaw insisted. Thankfully it as anxiety Graystripe had detected, not Tinyclaw's brief wariness of his old friend. "But… he hasn't really been himself lately. Not since Bluefur…"
Graystripe frowned. "Have you been seeing that old poisonpaws around lately?" he wondered.
Tinyclaw shook his head. "No sign of her, or Darkstripe either. I don't know how Tigerstar would react if we saw them again."
"He'd scratched their eyes out, knowing him," Graystripe meowed assuredly. "I can't imagine anything keeping Tigerstar down for long."
I wish that were true, Tinyclaw thought sadly. He knew he could not truly confide his worries to Graystripe anymore. Graystripe was RiverClan now and sharing the details of Tigerstar's weakness was something Tinyclaw could not do, no matter how much he wanted to. And there was another thing – he could not bring himself to tell Graystripe about Cloudpaw's disappearance. Tinyclaw tried to tell himself it was because he didn't want to worry Graystripe – but it was because of Tinyclaw's own pride. He didn't want Graystripe to know he had failed a second time as a mentor, so soon after Brackenfur.
"What's it like in RiverClan?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject. He hoped Graystripe didn't notice the pause.
Graystripe shrugged. "Not much different than ThunderClan," he admitted. "Some are happy, some are grumpy, some are… normal. They're all normal cats, same as there were in ThunderClan." He smiled. "I didn't think they'd be, but they are."
Tinyclaw couldn't help envying Graystripe's new life. It clearly held nowhere close to the amount of responsibility that Tinyclaw's did as deputy. Tinyclaw couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment tinged with grief – Graystripe could not leave his mate and kits, but couldn't he have fought harder to keep them in ThunderClan?
He pushed away his unfriendly thoughts. "How are your kits?" he asked.
Graystripe purred proudly. "They're wonderful!" he declared. "Featherkit is just like Silverstream – every bit as beautiful with the same temper too! She follows Silverstream around everywhere. And Stormkit is more easygoing; he rolls with just about anything that comes his way, even when his sister is pulling on his ear."
"Just like his father," Tinyclaw chuckled
Graystripe nodded, his eyes shining. "Every cat loves them, Tinyclaw. Especially Crookedstar – you should see how he spoils them! Silverstream can nurse them now, she's just as healthy as before. I couldn't imagine being without her, or them."
Tinyclaw felt a familiar rush of joy from being with his old friend. Suddenly, Tinyclaw burst, "I miss you, Graystripe." The thought of running through the woods with Graystripe filled his mind, hunting and sleeping and fighting together. "Why can't you come home?"
"I am where I belong," Graystripe said, his eyes darkening. "I can't leave my kits. I can't leave Silverstream. I love them. I love her."
Tinyclaw could not disguise the hurt from his expression. Yet Graystripe's words flooded over him. What would Tinyclaw do if he were in Graystripe's position? He touched his nose to Graystripe's cheek. I would do the same for Sandstorm. A hundred times.
Graystripe nudged him back. "Enough soppy stuff," he chuckled. "You didn't come here to see me, did you?"
Tinyclaw was caught off guard. "Well, not entirely," he confessed.
Graystripe smirked. "You were looking for those ShadowClan cats right?"
Tinyclaw's eyes widened. "How did you know about them?" he demanded.
"How couldn't I?" Graystripe exclaimed. "What with that stench they were giving off… ShadowClan cats smell bad on their own but sick ones? Yuck!"
"D-Does the rest of RiverClan know about them?" Tinyclaw wondered. His tail trembled. If they did… Oh StarClan, Tinyclaw could only imagine Leopardfur's fury. Not only that, but ThunderClan sheltering ShadowClan cats again? Sick ones? The other Clans would be livid.
"Not as far as I know," Graystripe offered. "I managed to get all the patrols on this side of the river. The other cats indulged me, thought I was homesick." With a grin, he added, "They were probably secretly hoping I'd go back to ThunderClan if I got enough of the forest in my nose."
"But why protect the ShadowClan cats?" Tinyclaw wondered.
Graystripe shrugged. "I came over and spoke to them when they arrived," he explained. "They told me that Brackenfur had hidden them there, and that he was treating them. And if Brackenfur knew about it, I assumed you did, too… and I figured it was probably all right. Sheltering sick cats is the sort of soft-hearted thing you'd do."
"As if you wouldn't!" Tinyclaw huffed.
Graystripe only shrugged again.
"I wasn't exactly thrilled when I found out," Tinyclaw admitted.
"You let him off though, I'm betting?"
"… Of course," Tinyclaw grunted.
Graystripe grinned. "Thought so. Brackenfur sure knows his way around words – be careful, he's got you wrapped around his paw!" he chuckled affectionately. "But either way, they're gone now."
"When did they leave?" Tinyclaw wondered. He felt a wave of relief that Brackenfur had kept his promise.
"A couple days ago," Graystripe replied. "One was hunting on this side of the river, but I haven't seen them since."
"A couple of days?" Tinyclaw repeated. Alarm flashed through his pelt. So Brackenfur hadn't told them to leave when he said he would after all – he must have kept them around to make sure their sickness had left them before sending them away. All that time I had assumed… what if some cat had come across them? With any luck, they had taken the threat of sickness with them.
"Look," Graystripe meowed, "I have to go. I'm supposed to be hunting, and I promised I'd watched a couple of apprentices this afternoon."
"Have you got an apprentice of your own?" Tinyclaw wondered.
"Not right now," Graystripe meowed. "I don't think they're willing to trust me that far yet."
Tinyclaw met his friend's eyes. He couldn't tell if it was amusement or something else that made Graystripe's whiskers twitch.
"I'll see you again sometime," Graystripe decided. He touched his nose to Tinyclaw's.
"Definitely," Tinyclaw agreed.
A pang of sadness tore through Tinyclaw as Graystripe turned away. First Ravenpaw, then Cloudpaw… would he be forced to watch those closest to him leave? "Take care!" he called as Graystripe slipped into the river. Graystripe waded in confidently, his paws churning, leaving a gentle wake behind him.
If only I could go on so smoothly, Tinyclaw thought. It would be so easy, then, shedding problems like water on Graystripe's pelt. There was no time for that, though – Tinyclaw turned away and headed into the trees.