We’ve lost, Hawkwing thought, a dark mist of sadness and disbelief swirling around him. Our leader is giving up the gorge.
At Leafstar’s order the SkyClan cats began to stream out of their camp. Hawkwing froze for a moment as he watched them scatter in all directions, disappearing into the night and the pouring rain.
He thought again of his mother’s words: I’m afraid that if we are driven into exile again, SkyClan may be lost forever. And here they were, about to be driven out of their home. Can it really be over so quickly?
Still, Hawkwing didn’t question his leader’s decision. He would follow her order. Forcing his limbs into motion, Hawkwing fled with his Clanmates, heading downstream, but after a few paces he halted and looked back.
Darktail stood on top of a boulder in the middle of the camp, a terrible expression of triumph on his face. His white pelt was clotted with blood.
Sharpclaw’s blood… the blood of my Clanmates.
With horror, Hawkwing realized that Darktail was staring straight at him. He froze, panting and full of rage. He thought of how Darktail had asked him to stay with him in the gorge—right after he’d delivered the killing blow to Sharpclaw! I’m nothing like you! he thought fiercely. He desperately wanted to fling himself on Darktail and claw that look of triumph from his face, but he knew this wasn’t the time. Instead, he tore his gaze away and raced out of the camp, his heart ready to break from anger and pain.
He remembered now how proud he’d felt to bring Darktail back to camp from the ashes of the fire. He’d truly believed he might be the “spark that remains,” or might have helped SkyClan find it. I brought Darktail here. I trusted him, and all the time he was deceiving us. He wanted to take away everything we cared about… and he has. But I was the cat who started it all. It’s my fault we’ve lost the gorge. Darktail might have been his killer, but still, it’s my fault that Sharpclaw is dead.
Hawkwing fled blindly, not stopping until he came to the riverbank and realized that he had reached the patch of scrub and small trees where he had hunted with Sharpclaw and Darktail in what felt like another life. At first he thought he was alone, unsure where the rest of his Clan had gone.
Are we all scattered? Is this the end?
Rain was still driving down, and the river was running high and strong, sweeping twigs and debris down with it as it rolled between the banks. Hawkwing had to strain to see anything in the darkness.
Then Hawkwing heard voices coming from farther downstream.
Heading in that direction, he spotted Birdwing’s three kits trying to cross the river over a set of stepping-stones. Curlykit was urging them on; there were no adult cats in sight.
“Stop! It’s too dangerous!” Hawkwing yowled.
But the kits seemed not to hear him through the rain and the roar of the river, launching themselves on the perilous crossing.
Hawkwing bounded toward them, and realized as he drew closer that there were other cats on the far bank. He could just make out their shadowy shapes and hear their meows, though he couldn’t distinguish what they were saying. From their voices, Hawkwing thought they might be Echosong and Pebblepaw, but there was no sign of Birdwing or the kits’ father, Sagenose. He understood now why the kits wanted to cross the river, but they were still in terrible danger.
By the time Hawkwing reached the stepping-stones, all three kits were well on the way across; Curlykit, in the lead, was more than halfway. Hawkwing began to follow. He was more frightened still for the kits when he felt the slick surface of the stones with the river water lapping over them. Oh, StarClan! Don’t let them slip!
Curlykit reached the far bank and was hauled to safety by a cat who Hawkwing could now see was Pebblepaw. Fidgetkit followed, leaping up the bank by himself and turning, ready to help his remaining littermate.
Hawkwing thought that Snipkit looked exhausted. She was moving slowly, hesitating before she leaped from one stone to the next. Her legs were wobbling. Hawkwing speeded up, not bothering to check his balance as he sprang from rock to rock. At each landing he felt his paws shift under him, and only pushing off for his next leap saved him from falling.
Before Hawkwing could reach Snipkit, her paws slipped as she tried to jump. She fell short, letting out a terrified wail; her forepaws scrabbled at the next stone, but she couldn’t get a grip.
She fell with a splash, her eyes wide with disbelief as the current quickly swept her away.
Instantly Hawkwing plunged into the river. “Snipkit! Snipkit!” he yowled, desperately peering into the darkness in the hope of spotting the drowning kit.
The fierce current dragged at Hawkwing, and soon he was struggling desperately simply to stay afloat. “Don’t swim after her!” he gasped to the frantic cats on the bank. “It’s too—”
Water flowed into Hawkwing’s mouth, cutting off his warning.
His head went under and he lost all sense of direction; surging black water was all around him.
I’m going to die, he thought, and then his next thought surprised him: Maybe that’s best. If I survive, I’ll have to face Cherrytail and the others, and live with the guilt of knowing that I brought Darktail into the Clan.
In his mind, Hawkwing once again saw his father’s terrible death, murdered while he had looked on, powerless to help him. If I drown, I’ll never have to remember that again.
Then, as Hawkwing felt himself begin to spiral away into darkness, he imagined his father’s brilliant green gaze fixed on him.
“M y son is not a coward!” Sharpclaw meowed.
The memory of his father’s faith in him filled Hawkwing with new energy and determination. He began to fight again, his legs churning the water, until abruptly his head broke the surface.
Coughing, he forced himself to keep paddling until he felt the gravelly bottom of the river under his paws and managed to stand.
With water streaming from his pelt, he staggered ashore, as Pebblepaw came bounding over to him, followed by Echosong, Curlykit, and Fidgetkit.
“This way!” he choked out, pointing downstream with his tail.
He forced his aching legs into motion to race downstream, scanning the rolling current for any sign of Snipkit. Pebblepaw ran beside him, the others less than a tail-length behind.
“Snipkit! Snipkit!” Every cat was calling for her, but there was no reply, and nothing to see in the night and the rain.
Eventually Hawkwing staggered to a halt, and Pebblepaw collapsed to the ground beside him.
“It’s no use,” Pebblepaw gasped. “We have to stop.”
The two remaining kits came limping up with Echosong.
“We can’t just leave her!” Curlykit protested. “We have to find her!”
“It’s too dark,” Echosong mewed gently. “We could easily miss her if we carry on. We’ll look for her in the morning, I promise.”
Curlykit and Fidgetkit exchanged a glance; Hawkwing could tell that they wanted to be reassured, but they were still doubtful.
Their wide eyes glimmered in the gloom and their flanks were heaving as they fought against their grief. Hawkwing could see how desperately they were trying to be brave.
He knew how they felt. Little as he wanted to admit it, even to himself, he thought that probably Snipkit was already dead.
A wave of anger surged through Hawkwing, so hot that he stopped shivering and dug his claws fiercely into the ground.