Maps
Chapter 1
Mothwing rolled onto her back and stared up at the branches at the top of the warriors’ den. In the darkness she could just make out the shapes of the feathers and sweet-smelling grasses that had been woven among them.
“I can’t sleep,” she whispered. Her tail twitched nervously.
Beside her, her brother Hawkfrost sighed. “Just shut your eyes,” he said. “You’ll fall asleep eventually.”
“I feel …” Bad, Mothwing thought somberly. Before she could finish, a yowl came from the opposite side of the den.
“None of us will be able to sleep if you two don’t settle down,” Blackclaw said fiercely, and other warriors growled in agreement.
“You’re warriors now,” Mosspelt added firmly from her nest. “Be sensible and let the rest of the den sleep.”
“Sorry,” Mothwing said. She turned onto her belly again and tucked her tail tightly around herself. Closing her eyes, she thought, I’m a warrior now, not an apprentice. I can look after myself. Despite the soft fresh moss in her nest, she couldn’t get comfortable, and she shifted onto her side. I miss Sasha.
When their mother had left RiverClan and returned to life as a rogue, she’d invited Mothpaw and Hawkpaw to come with her. Mothpaw had loved being a RiverClan apprentice—she’d learned to hunt and fight and, for the first time, trust cats who weren’t her kin—but she loved her mother more. If it had been up to her, she would have left with Sasha.
But Hawkpaw had wanted to stay. He’d dug his claws into the dirt as if he could force them to stay in RiverClan by clinging to the camp.
So they had stayed. Mothpaw wouldn’t go without Hawkpaw. He was her littermate, her only littermate now. They belonged with each other.
I made my choice, she thought. I decided to become a RiverClan warrior. She rolled onto her other side. I just hope I can be a good one.
Hawkfrost groaned. “Settle down!” he hissed softly. “I can’t sleep if you’re awake!”
“Sorry,” Mothwing whispered. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, resolving to stay still. Part of her wanted to explain to Hawkfrost why it was so hard to fall asleep. After all, he’d been there when it had happened. He’d understand why she never liked to sleep … why she was afraid to dream. But the effort it took to stay awake was exhausting.
Despite herself, her breaths grew deep and steady, and soon she drifted off. The dream always came, and the terrible thing always happened, just like it had in real life. She could never stop it.
“We’ll never find Ken,” Hawk complained, hurrying to keep up with Tadpole. “We don’t know which Twoleg nest was his.”
Tadpole flicked his tail dismissively. “Sasha told us lots about where she used to live. I’m sure we’ll recognize it. She’ll be so happy we found him.” Sasha was always worried, but her sad eyes lit up when she told them about the long-ago days when she had been a kittypet and lived with an old Twoleg named Ken.
Moth walked closer to Hawk, her fur brushing his, and they exchanged a doubtful look. She didn’t believe it would be that easy, no matter what Tadpole thought.
As they came to the edge of the Twolegplace, Moth’s paws slowed in dismay. There were so many nests! She had never realized how big the Twolegplace was. Suddenly she wanted to run right back to their cozy den and curl up in a tiny ball. How could they ever find one Twoleg in such a huge, confusing place?
“Come on!” Tadpole called cheerfully. “We’ve never had such a big adventure!”
An adventure, Moth thought, heartened, and took a step forward. She was with her littermates on their biggest adventure yet. They would take care of one another.
The Twoleg path was strangely rough underfoot, and Moth placed her paws hesitantly, while Hawk sat down and licked his front paws, as if trying to wash away the sensation. A breeze ruffled Moth’s fur. Somewhere among the Twoleg nests a dog barked, and all three kits flinched.
Moth spotted a tree up ahead with branches low enough to the ground that even a kit could climb them. “Doesn’t that look like the tree Sasha told us about?” she asked, her tail lifting with excitement. “The one she climbed every day when she was a kittypet?”
Tadpole tilted his head and looked at the tree thoughtfully. “I bet you’re right,” he replied. “Good work, Moth!”
“Let’s look over the fence.” Hawk rushed forward, the other kits on his heels. It was easy to hop up onto the lowest branches of the tree, and Moth dug her claws into its rough gray bark and clambered up ahead of her brothers. Peering over the fence, she saw a Twoleg kit running through the grass outside its nest, kicking at a ball with its pale, furless legs.
“Did Ken have kits?” she asked.
Tadpole peered over her shoulder. “I don’t think so,” he mewed doubtfully. “He was an elder, wasn’t he?”
At a sudden rapping noise, the kits looked up. There was an opening in the nest covered with clearstone, and a female Twoleg stood behind it, knocking on the clearstone and glaring at them.
“She looks angry!” Hawk yowled.
“We’d better get out of here,” Tadpole added.
Moth nodded, backing up on the branch. “That’s not Ken.”
Safely on the ground again, the kits searched the area. A pair of Twolegs, their heads close together in conversation, was coming down the path, and Moth crouched instinctively, her belly fur brushing the earth. Don’t notice me! With a loud whirring noise, another Twoleg approached, riding on the back of a skinny monster that had two narrow round paws, one behind the other. As it sped past, the Twoleg turned its head to look at the kits, and Moth panicked.
“Run!” she screeched, and raced down the path, heading for a narrow opening between the Twoleg nests. She could hear her brothers running after her.