Darktail gave Hawkwing a brief glance before going back to studying his own paws. “Thanks,” he whispered.
Hawkwing drew away slightly, leaving Darktail with Rain, and gestured with his tail for his Clanmates to gather around. “We have to decide what to do now,” he meowed.
Sagenose shrugged. “What can we do? We’ve no proof that the Clan cats were ever here.”
“Even if they were,” Firefern agreed with a frustrated twitch of her tail, “there’s nothing to tell us where they’ve gone now.”
“You mean we should just turn around and go home?”
Harrybrook asked, blinking unhappily.
Hawkwing opened his jaws to protest. “But we—”
“What else do you suggest?” Sagenose interrupted. “Should we just wander around, trying to pick up scent that might never have been there in the first place? That’s a good way to get ourselves killed.”
Firefern and Harrybrook both let out approving murmurs as Sagenose spoke. Hawkwing could tell there was no arguing with them, and deep down he had to admit they were right. There’s no way we can find Firestar’s kin now.
“Okay,” he mewed, reluctant to believe this was his second failed quest. I was so sure we would succeed this time! And now we’re no closer to finding the spark that remains. “I guess we go home.”
As he was speaking, Darktail rose to his paws and padded over with Rain at his shoulder. Hawkwing could see that he was beginning to recover, though he still looked shaken.
“We should move away from here,” he meowed. “Those dogs could still be around.”
Hawkwing cast an uneasy glance back at the barn. There was no sign of the dogs or Twolegs—he was almost certain they had gone away—but he couldn’t rid himself of the fear that they could come bursting out at a heartbeat’s notice and hunt him and his Clanmates down.
Their paws trailing despondently, their tails dragging on the ground, the patrol followed Sagenose, who took the lead back across the stretch of grass toward a holly thicket at the far side. “I think we should make camp for the night,” he suggested, “and then head back to the gorge at sunrise.”
Within the thicket was a small clearing sheltered by ferns, where water seeped from a crack in a rocky outcrop and trickled into a small pool. Darktail let himself flop down at the water’s edge with a drawn-out groan. Hawkwing could see that though he had roused himself to follow the others away from danger, he was still devastated by the death of Toad.
“Why don’t you rest,” he urged, “and some of us will hunt.”
“I’ll go,” Sagenose offered immediately. “Harrybrook, will you come with me?”
“Sure,” the young gray tom replied.
“I’ll come too,” mewed Rain.
The hunters moved off into the bushes, leaving Hawkwing and Firefern beside Darktail. While Firefern coaxed the rogue to lap some of the water, Hawkwing drew into himself, unable to think anymore of what he could say to Darktail. He was too busy imagining all too clearly what it would be like when they returned to the SkyClan camp.
Sharpclaw doesn’t think I can do anything right. And now I’ll have to explain to him that we’ve failed again.
By the time the hunting party returned the sun was going down, filling the thicket with shadows. A chilly breeze had sprung up, rustling the fern fronds and piercing Hawkwing’s fur with cold claws.
Rain strode into the clearing dangling two mice by their tails, while Sagenose followed with a thrush and Firefern dragged a rabbit between her forelegs.
“At least the hunting was good,” Sagenose mewed, dropping his prey beside the pool. “Come and eat.”
Hawkwing forced himself to move forward and take his share of the prey, but he felt every mouthful was going to choke him.
Darktail hardly touched a morsel, and none of the others had much appetite either, except for Rain, who devoured his mouse and swiped his tongue around his jaws with satisfaction.
As full darkness gathered, Hawkwing curled up and closed his eyes, but it took a long time for sleep to come, and when it did, his dreams were full of Toad’s desperate shrieks as the dogs tore him apart.
Hawkwing opened his eyes and stretched his jaws into a wide yawn. Pale dawn light was filtering through the branches of the holly thicket. Blinking, Hawkwing sat up and saw that the rest of the patrol were rousing too. For a moment he found it hard to remember where they were and what they should be doing. When his memory flowed back, he felt as if a huge rock had dropped into his belly.
This is the day we have to head back and admit we failed—again.
A few scraps of prey were left from the night before. No cat felt like hunting for more, so when they had shared the meager remains they set out again, with Darktail in the lead. The rogue tom seemed to be looking inward, scarcely speaking; Hawkwing guessed that he was still reliving Toad’s terrible death.
The sun was just coming up, shedding a golden light across their path. Every blade of grass glittered with dew. But Hawkwing’s thoughts were still dark as he thought of their return to their waiting Clan. How am I going to explain all this to Leafstar and my father?
After a while, Darktail dropped back a few paw steps to pad alongside Hawkwing. “You look worried,” he meowed. “Are you okay?”
Hawkwing was touched that Darktail should think about his feelings in the midst of his own grieving. “Yes, I am worried,” he confessed. “I’m nervous about going home and telling every cat that we’re no nearer to finding Firestar’s kin. I really hoped I would impress Sharpclaw on this quest, but now he’s going to despise me as much as ever.”
Darktail gave him a sympathetic glance. “Sharpclaw doesn’t sound like much of a father,” he observed, “if he blames you for something that isn’t your fault.”
Hawkwing felt a tinge of defensiveness at the white tom’s words. After all, Darktail doesn’t really know Sharpclaw.
“He’s a great cat,” he responded. “But… well, things haven’t been the same between us since Duskpaw died.”
“Then maybe you’ll both get over it,” Darktail mewed with an understanding nod. “But remember—it’s all well and good being kin to a cat, but in the wild you have to take your kin where you find it.”
His somber tone convinced Hawkwing that he was speaking from personal experience. He felt a sharp prick of curiosity, wondering if this had anything to do with Darktail’s friend who had starved to death in a harsh leaf-bare, but Darktail said no more, and Hawkwing didn’t feel that he could ask him about it.
Hawkwing and the rest of the patrol approached the SkyClan camp as their second day of travel drew to a close. The sinking sun cast red light over the stretch of grass that separated the gorge from the Twolegplace, and a few warriors of StarClan already glimmered in the sky.
As the cats headed toward the gorge, Hawkwing picked up the scent of the border markers, and halted abruptly, his pads prickling with apprehension. “That’s odd,” he muttered.
“What’s the matter?” Harrybrook asked.
“The scent markings are stale,” Hawkwing replied. “They haven’t been renewed since dawn at least.”
His Clanmates tasted the air, and after a moment Sagenose nodded. “You’re right,” he mewed. “M aybe they’re just late with the evening patrol…”
“Do you really think so?” Hawkwing challenged him. “Or has there been more trouble? Let’s get down there!”
The patrol picked up speed as they wound their way among the shrubs at the top of the gorge, and the shadows of the trees lay dark across their path. Hawkwing imagined they were ominous paws reaching out to grab him, then gave his pelt a shake, telling himself not to be so mouse-brained.