Too troubled to sleep, Hawkwing crouched at the entrance to the warriors’ den and gazed out across the gorge. The moon was barely a claw-scratch, making the stars blaze out more brightly than ever.
“Oh, StarClan,” Hawkwing breathed out. “What are you doing to us?”
Behind him, he could hear his Clanmates shifting in their nests; he didn’t think any of them were sleeping, either. We’re all so afraid that the rogues will come and attack us in the camp. He angled his ears forward, trying to pick up any strange sounds beyond the gorge, but all he could hear was the wind rustling in the trees.
Ever since he had spoken to his mother, her ominous words had repeated themselves in Hawkwing’s mind. SkyClan may be lost forever.
He didn’t want to believe that could be true.
Hawkwing knew he was young; he hadn’t lived through SkyClan’s most trying days. Still, the Clan meant more to him than he could possibly say. Even though he’d gone searching for the other Clans, it was difficult for him to imagine a life outside the gorge he loved so fiercely, or away from these cats who were all like kin to him. Spending time with Darktail, a former rogue, had only emphasized the value of his Clan to Hawkwing. We look out for each other, he thought now. We put the Clan first, and ourselves second. That’s important. He paused, looking up at the narrow moon and his ancestors twinkling in the sky. And what would it say to StarClan if we let SkyClan fall? he wondered. So many cats have fought so valiantly to preserve SkyClan, through the seasons.
Those cats dated all the way back to Skystar—the great founder of SkyClan.
We have to save our Clan.
Every hair on Hawkwing’s pelt began to tingle, but this time it was not with fear. He felt a fierceness run through his body, powerful as flame, a determination to make sure that the worst would never happen.
As long as I’m alive, SkyClan will never be exiled. We will always survive!
Chapter 15
The dawn patrol had just returned, reporting no sign or scent of the rogues on SkyClan territory. Even so, Hawkwing was still aware of deep uneasiness within the Clan. Echosong had still received no further visits from StarClan, and every cat knew that their future was desperately uncertain.
At the foot of the Rockpile, Sharpclaw was organizing the hunting patrols. “Sparrowpelt, you lead one,” he instructed, “and
Waspwhisker, you take another. I’ll lead the third. Leafstar wants senior warriors to go out more, just in case we run into any of the rogues.”
“Right, Sharpclaw,” Sparrowpelt meowed, sliding out his claws. “I’d be delighted to run into them. I could use some extra fur to line my nest.”
“Hawkwing, you’re with me,” Sharpclaw continued, as the cats began to divide into three groups. “You too, Darktail. We know you can fight, but I haven’t seen your hunting technique yet.”
“Gladly, Sharpclaw,” Darktail responded with a brisk nod.
Hawkwing was pleased, too, that his father had chosen him for his patrol. Maybe he’s not so angry with me anymore.
While Sharpclaw was supervising the departure of the other patrols, Darktail sidled up to Hawkwing and stood so close that their pelts were brushing.
“Have you seen your friend this morning?” he asked Hawkwing, angling his ears toward Pebblepaw, who was chatting with Rain over their fresh-kill a few tail-lengths away.
Immediately Hawkwing’s pelt grew hot with embarrassment.
“M y friend?” he muttered.
“Pebblepaw. I’ve seen you staring at her,” Darktail meowed, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t like her.”
“Uh…” Hawkwing scrabbled on the ground with his forepaws.
“You need to talk to her more and figure out what your feelings are,” Darktail continued. “You won’t get any closer to doing that by avoiding her!”
“I’m not avoiding her,” Hawkwing mewed defensively.
“And hedgehogs fly!” Darktail scoffed. “Besides, from the way
Pebblepaw looks at you, she needs to sort out her feelings, too.”
Hawkwing blinked with a mixture of hope that Darktail might be right, and awkwardness that the rogue was forcing him to discuss it. “I don’t think so… ,” he murmured.
Darktail flicked Hawkwing’s ear with the tip of his tail. “Either Pebblepaw likes you back, or she doesn’t, but you need to know the truth, so you can make a decision before it’s too late.”
With a massive effort, Hawkwing let out a huff of laughter.
“I’m still a young cat,” he mewed, “and Pebblepaw is still an apprentice. It’s way too early to start thinking about time running out.”
I’d never admit it to Darktail, he added to himself, but I have started to think about the future. It feels really weird.
Darktail shook his head, still amused. “That’s not what I meant.”
Hawkwing realized there was something odd about Darktail’s tone of voice. “Whether I’m with Pebblepaw or not can’t be that serious, can it?” he asked.
“Of course it can,” the rogue tom replied, his voice still dark and ominous. “It is the most serious choice. You can’t afford to make a mistake when choosing which cats to have by your side.”
To Hawkwing’s relief, before he could say more, Sharpclaw called to them to head out on patrol. As the other two groups had climbed the trails to hunt in the forest above the gorge, Sharpclaw led his cats downstream toward the stretch of shrubs and spindly trees that grew on either side of the river where the gorge widened out.
Hawkwing hoped that this would be a good opportunity to straighten things out with his father, but his belly churned with anxiety at the thought that Sharpclaw might snap at him again.
Besides, he didn’t want to talk about anything important with Sharpclaw where Darktail might overhear.
Instead, Hawkwing concentrated on picking up the traces of prey, hoping that he might impress his father with a good catch. As they slid into the scrubby undergrowth Sharpclaw halted, then plunged into the shadow of an elder bush and emerged with a mouse dangling from his jaws.
“Good job!” Darktail mewed admiringly. “I never even smelled it.”
Sharpclaw twitched his whiskers. “Figures.”
Hawkwing could see that his father was still not impressed with Darktail. He wished that the white rogue could catch something, if only to dispel the frosty atmosphere that had spread through the patrol.
When Sharpclaw had scratched earth over the mouse so it could be collected later, the patrol moved on. Padding alongside the river, Hawkwing came to a spot where the bank had crumbled away into a sandy spit of land stretching out into the current. A vole was scrabbling around among the pebbles.
Hawkwing dropped into the hunter’s crouch and began to creep up on his prey, when something white flashed past him and he saw Darktail hurl himself off the bank and land on top of the vole, crushing it between his forepaws.
“I smelled that one,” he announced as he picked up his fresh-kill and leaped back onto the bank.
Hawkwing tried not to be annoyed that Darktail had stolen what had clearly been his prey. What matters is that the Clan is fed.
But it was still irritating, especially when he had hoped to show off his hunting skills to his father.
The patrol padded on, getting farther and farther from the camp. Hawkwing became more alert still, his pelt prickling with apprehension as he wondered if they might meet the rogues again.