Dark River

“Don’t worry,” Lionpaw reassured him. “I can handle foxes now.”

They padded up the slope and onto the ridge.

“Where are we going?” Lionpaw asked.

“The lake.”

Lionpaw made no comment. No interest sparked from his pelt. Jaypaw could feel a dark cloud hovering in his brother’s mind, absorbing every other thought like quicksand. He tried reaching into it but felt nothing but uncertainty.

As they left the trees and headed down the grassy slope, the wind whipped at Jaypaw’s ears and whiskers. He lashed his tail, excited by the stormy weather and the thought of touching the stick once more. He could smell the lake now and pictured it—a vast Moonpool, ruffled and reflecting a shattered moon.

The scents of RiverClan, WindClan, and ShadowClan clashed and mingled on the breeze. Was there really going to be a battle?

“Do you think WindClan is planning to invade us?” he mewed.

Lionpaw pressed against him, steering him around a rabbit hole. “It wouldn’t make sense.” Jaypaw thought he heard hope in his brother’s mew. “It’s RiverClan they should be worried about, not us.”

“But what about the squirrel-hunting?”

“Why shouldn’t they hunt squirrels? The woods belong to them on that side of the gully.” Lionpaw sounded more like a warrior than an apprentice; as though he knew something Jaypaw didn’t.

As their paws crunched on the pebbles around the edge of the lake, Lionpaw hesitated. “Why are we here?”

“I left something here,” Jaypaw explained. “I need to drag it into the trees. I want to keep it safe from the lake.”

“What?”

“A stick.”

“A stick?”

“Yes!” Jaypaw sniffed the air, hoping to detect its scent. “It has markings on it.” His tail pricked with anxiety as he smelled nothing but windblown water. “I left it here.”

“What does it look like?”

“No bark,” Jaypaw mewed. “Just smooth wood. With lines scratched into it.”

“Okay,” Lionpaw mewed. “You check where you left it. I’ll search the top of the shore in case the wind’s carried it up there.”

Jaypaw hurried to the place where he had abandoned the

stick. His heart began to pound. He was certain it was gone, and not just because he couldn’t scent it. There was a dark emptiness in his chest that told him the stick was no longer here.

He was right.

The pebbles were bare.

Fighting the fear that jabbed his belly, Jaypaw zigzagged over the shore, sniffing at the pebbles, trying to trace where the stick had gone. Why had he let the storm chase him away?

He should have made sure the stick was safe before he ran home like a fox-hearted coward!

“Have you found it?” Lionpaw’s mew was muffled by the wind.

“No!” Jaypaw felt panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t have lost it.

“Is this it?” Lionpaw called suddenly.

Jaypaw charged toward his brother. He tripped over a piece of driftwood, bruising his paw, but he ignored the pain and limped desperately toward Lionpaw.

He knew even before he reached it that it was not the stick. “Where are the scratches?” he snapped. “I told you, it has scratches!”

“Okay, okay!” Lionpaw flashed with resentment. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I have to find it.” Jaypaw wandered away, stumbling over the pebbles and debris. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He felt as if he had let someone down, though he had no idea how or who. His paw was throbbing now but he didn’t care. Had

the lake reclaimed the stick?

He headed down the beach until water lapped his paws and paddled into the shallows. He had to find the stick. Cold water rippled against his belly fur. It dragged at his paws as he waded deeper. He remembered falling from the cliff, sinking, floundering beneath the waves. Crowfeather had saved him then, but the fear of the lake had stayed with him. It screamed at him now, warning him to turn back.

Jaypaw!

A voice rang in his head. Something tugged his fur, drawing him farther out. The waves lapped over his spine and he lifted his chin to keep it dry.

This way!

With each paw step he had to reach down farther to feel the pebbles. But he had to find the branch.

Suddenly, his paw knocked something beneath the water.

That’s it!

Taking a great gulp of air, he ducked his head beneath the waves and grabbed the end of the branch in his teeth.

Tugging desperately, he began to drag it up the beach. He let go and took another gulp of air before diving again to grab the branch. He dug his paws into the pebbles, scrabbling to get a grip. The stick was so heavy! He pulled and pulled, his lungs bursting as he tried to drag it out of the water.

Suddenly, it moved more easily. Almost weightless, the stick began to float toward the shore; Jaypaw only needed to guide it with his teeth. Relief surged in his paws as his head finally broke the surface. He gasped and coughed, still grip

ping the stick in his teeth, water dripping from his whiskers.

He had reached the shallows.

“What in StarClan were you doing?” The branch slapped down in the water as Lionpaw let go of the other end. “I saw you disappear under the water and I thought you were trying to drown yourself. Then I realized you were dragging this! I don’t know how you thought you were going to get it out on your own.”

The water lapped around the stick. Jaypaw ran his paw over it, searching out the scratches. He wished the stick was not so big, that he could take it back to camp with him.

“Look,” he breathed, running his paw over the marks.

“You half drown yourself in the middle of the night for a stick with claw marks on it!” Water sprayed from Lionpaw as he shook himself. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m not,” Jaypaw snapped hotly. “It’s important.”

Thank you, Jaypaw. We’ll be remembered as long as you guard us.

“Come on,” he mewed. “Let’s get this tucked under a root and get back to camp.”

,

Chapter 11

“For StarClan’s sake!” Ashfur bounded from the ferns and glared angrily at Lionpaw. “How did you miss it?”

The wagtail, which had whisked away from Lionpaw’s outstretched paws only moments earlier, perched on a branch above the training hollow and called an alarm before fluttering away into the trees.

Lionpaw hung his head. He should have caught it, but his paws felt like stones. “Sorry.” The midnight trek to the beach with Jaypaw had left him exhausted. He quivered with irritation. He had left Heatherpaw early last night so he could catch up on his sleep. Why had Jaypaw dragged him out to the lake instead of letting him rest?

“You’re lumbering around like a badger today,” Ashfur scolded.

Spiderleg and Mousepaw padded out of the ferns with Honeypaw and Sandstorm.

“More like a hibernating hedgehog!” Mousepaw teased.