Owlpaw had darted around him already and was clawing him from behind.
He would never be a warrior.
It was the one thing he wanted above all. But he had to accept that he couldn’t fight alone. Fury raged inside him like a badger cornered in its set.
Leafpool’s words echoed in his head.
All his life he had imagined growing up to be a warrior.
Why would he feel that way if StarClan had planned another destiny for him?
“Brambleclaw!” Firestar welcomed his deputy back into camp. Jaypaw had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed his father’s return.
“We’ve remarked the trees and covered the stench of ShadowClan,” Brambleclaw reported.
Something was bothering him; Jaypaw could sense hesita-tion tripping his father’s tongue.
“Oakfur claimed ShadowClan had a right to our territory because ThunderClan has so many cats who are not . . .”
Brambleclaw paused awkwardly. “Who are not Clanborn.”
“So ShadowClan still believe a cat must be Clanborn to
become a warrior,” Firestar growled.
“I told him that every cat in ThunderClan is a warrior,”
Brambleclaw meowed.
“Good.” Firestar raised his voice so that every cat in the clearing could hear him. “There is not a single cat in ThunderClan who does not deserve to be here!”
Anxiety flashed from Dustpelt. “But there is truth in what ShadowClan says.” The tabby warrior’s words cracked the air like a stone hitting ice. “ThunderClan has taken in more cats than any other. That alone leaves us open to criticism from other Clans.”
Stormfur got to his paws. “Do we care what the other Clans think?” he snarled. “I was raised in RiverClan, but does any cat here doubt my loyalty to ThunderClan?”
“Your father was a ThunderClan warrior,” Dustpelt pointed out. “You have ThunderClan blood.”
“And what about those of us who don’t?” Hazelpaw protested, her soft gray-and-white pelt bristling. “I was born in the horseplace with Berrypaw and Mousepaw. Does any cat think we are not worthy to train as warriors?”
“Of course not!” Graystripe called. “Belonging has nothing to do with blood! I was born pure ThunderClan, yet I am more of a stranger here now than any cat. Millie was a kittypet only moons ago, but she fought as hard as Firestar to drive off ShadowClan today—and so did Brook!” His eyes flashed toward the Tribe cat, who blinked her thanks.
Sorreltail mewed loudly in agreement. “Loyalty is proved by what we do, not where we came from!”
Jaypaw jerked his head up. He could sense doubt pulsing from Hollypaw, horsetail balm still fragrant on her paws. “But the warrior code tells us we should drive strangers from our territory,” she mewed uncertainly.
“We have taken in any cat who has asked us for help,”
Firestar meowed. “Does the warrior code condemn us for showing mercy?”
“N-no,” murmured Hollypaw.
“And every cat we have taken in has helped make ThunderClan stronger!” Firestar went on. Mews of agreement rose from the other cats.
“But,” Firestar added, “Brambleclaw is right to tell me what ShadowClan has said.”
“When have we let the other Clans tell us what to do?”
Graystripe challenged.
“
A ripple of approval passed around the hollow, but Jaypaw still sensed tension. He knew from furtive worried whispers that he was not the only cat who wondered how
ThunderClan’s mixed blood might change the way the other Clans saw them, or even the way StarClan thought of them.
The other apprentices were asleep, the air sighing with their gentle breathing. But Jaypaw was wide awake. Leafpool’s words still haunted him. He kept trying to persuade
himself that he could learn how to be a warrior, that his fighting skills would improve. But every time he thought it, the hope became hollower.
He would go to the Moonpool. Perhaps there would be an answer for him there. Quietly he slipped out of the den. An icy wind stirred the bare branches of the trees; he would need to move very quietly, because every sound would travel far.
Brackenfur was guarding the camp entrance. Jaypaw could smell his scent. If the warrior turned him back then he would find another way out of the camp.
“You’re out late,” Brackenfur observed.
“I can’t sleep.”
“It can be like that after a battle,” Brackenfur meowed.
“I’m going into the forest.” Jaypaw waited for surprise to flash from Brackenfur, but the warrior did not flinch.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he offered. “Brook won’t mind starting her watch early.”
“No, thanks.”
“You need some time alone,” Brackenfur guessed.
Jaypaw nodded, and Brackenfur went on, “At least it’s quiet tonight. But I’ll keep my ears pricked for you, just in case.”
“Thanks, Brackenfur.” Jaypaw was relieved he had at least one Clanmate who didn’t fuss over him as though he were a newborn kit. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he called as he padded away from the entrance.
As he climbed the slope, the leaves slippery with frost beneath his paws, Jaypaw started to feel less eaten up with anxious thoughts. The noisy buzz and flow of the Clan,
which invaded his senses like mosquitoes nipping at his ears, was gone. He followed the route he’d taken with Leafpool toward WindClan territory; the memory of it seemed burned into his paws as they retraced the path that grazed the WindClan border and led up into the hills.
His ears were sharp enough to hear the tumbling of the stream before his paws felt the ground turn to rock. His nose twitched, smelling for danger, but he scented nothing other than clean, fresh air rolling down from the mountains. He followed the stream steadily upward until he was scrambling up the rocks that led to the bushes circling the hollow. The whispering voices, the softly walking cats who weren’t there, surrounded him again. Their presence was oddly reassuring, as if they had come to welcome him.
Jaypaw paused at the top of the spiraling path; though his eyes saw nothing, he could clearly picture the sloping walls of the hollow and the pool below cradling the moon. The whispering grew louder until it became a droning purr that echoed around the rocks. As he followed the path down to the Moonpool, his ears twitched, straining to make out words from the murmuring sigh.
“You are welcome, Jaypaw.”
“Come, Jaypaw.”
Scents flooded around him, the scents of cats he had no memory of, yet who seemed familiar.
“Dream with us, Jaypaw.”
A pelt brushed his and then another as the cats guided him down to the pool. A faint memory stirred of a long, snowy
journey, where his mother’s voice had comforted him and two soft pelts had urged him on.
Jaypaw stopped at the edge of the pool and lay down on the smooth stone shore. Closing his eyes, he touched the water with his nose.
He opened his eyes and found himself in lush woodland.
Trees soared into the blue sky above his head. Ferns unfurled their arching fronds above his back. Warm air,
