Hollypaw let out a last fearsome screech and halted, panting. “It worked!”
The yowls of fighting cats came through the cleft; Brambleclaw was leading his warriors into battle outside.
Lionpaw took a long breath and tasted blood on the air.
“Come on!” he urged.
The way out of the den was clear now. Lionpaw hurled himself through the cleft and into the open. The wide space in front of the rocks seethed with knots of tussling cats as Tribe and Clan clashed with the intruders. Moonlight shone on mingled tabby, ginger, and white fur and glinted on sharp teeth and claws. Shrieks of pain and fury split the night.
Lionpaw’s ears pricked as he thought he heard a whisper behind him. “Lionpaw— now!” His head whipped around.
Had he really heard Tigerstar? There was no dark tabby shape in the shadows, no gleam of amber eyes, but the call to battle was compelling.
Just in front of him, the brown intruder Flick had Screech pinned to the ground while he raked his claws through the to-be’s belly fur. Yowling in fury, Lionpaw leaped on top of him, biting down hard on his neck. Squalling in pain and shock, Flick reared up in an attempt to throw him off.
Screech wriggled free and vanished into the darkness.
Lionpaw lost his balance but succeeded in pulling Flick down on top of him and battered at the intruder’s belly with his hind paws. Brown fur flew out and he caught the hot reek of blood. He lunged for Flick’s throat. Flick raked one paw across his ear and managed to stagger to his paws. Lionpaw let him go.
For a heartbeat he stood panting, looking for his next opponent, and he thought the whisper came again.
“Lionpaw—look behind you!” He whipped around to confront a huge gray tom, whose pale pelt was already running with blood. Lionpaw just had time to dodge to one side, raking the intruder’s pelt as he slipped past him.
Scrambling onto a boulder, he surveyed the moon-washed battle and caught a glimpse of Hollypaw and Pebble, fighting side by side, thrusting their way through the press of cats to where Brambleclaw and Stripes fought together, rolling over and over in a screeching tangle of fur and claws. He spotted Squirrelflight, too, leaping forward to chase a black tom around the curve of a boulder and out of sight. Her ginger tail streamed out behind her and her teeth were bared in a snarl of fury.
Just below Lionpaw, Gray was struggling with a black-and-white she-cat, his paws flailing as he tried to dislodge her teeth from his shoulder. He looked as if he was rapidly tiring.
Lionpaw let out an exultant yowl as he dropped onto the trespasser’s shoulders, digging in his claws in the move he had practiced with Ashfur back in the forest. The she-cat released Gray and instantly rolled over, crushing Lionpaw beneath her bulk. The breath driven out of him, his nose buried in her fur, he fought to breathe and convulsed with pain as he felt her teeth meet in his ear. Think! The whisper came again, and this time Lionpaw could picture Hawkfrost’s ice-blue eyes.
He let every limb go limp. The she-cat relaxed her grip, and at once Lionpaw heaved upward, tearing his ear free and throwing her back onto the stony ground. She clambered to her paws and crouched to leap at him. He braced himself to meet her attack.
Suddenly Lionpaw spotted Hollypaw and Breezepaw dashing toward him. They split up, racing up on either side of the she-cat. The trespasser leaped, claws extended. Lionpaw dived beneath her belly and felt his fur ruffled as she overshot and landed just where Hollypaw and Breezepaw were waiting to slash her flanks with their claws. The she-cat wailed and fled.
“Great!” Lionpaw gasped, springing up again. “They must teach that move in WindClan, too!”
Battling cats were already separating him from the other two apprentices. He hurled himself into the fight again. He could hear the blood pounding inside him; he felt as if he had the strength of twenty cats. He felt alive, more than ever before. As one cat after another fled from his raking claws he knew this was what he had been born for.
There came a moment when no other cat leaped to confront him. Lionpaw spun around like a kit chasing its tail.
Where are you? Come out and fight!
“Lionpaw.” No mysterious whisper now; the steady voice was his father’s. “Lionpaw, stop. It’s over.”
Lionpaw halted, staring at Brambleclaw, his teeth bared.
“It’s not over,” he hissed. “Not until every last intruder has been defeated.”
“Calm down, Lionpaw,” Brambleclaw meowed. “They are defeated. We’ve won.”
Lionpaw’s first reaction was disappointment. No more of that wonderful coordination of muscles, teeth, and claws? No more of the light of fear in his opponents’ eyes as they fled?
He took several deep breaths and looked around. Cats of Clan and Tribe were watching him, impressed—and maybe scared? Why? What have I done?
“You fought well, Lionpaw,” Crag told him quietly. “Your skill and courage will be remembered as long as the Tribe exists.”
Lionpaw looked down at himself and saw his fur clumped together with drying blood. He felt hot and sticky, and his stomach heaved at the stench of it. He staggered; then Hollypaw was at his side, her green eyes horrified.
“Where are you hurt?” she asked anxiously.
Lionpaw shook his head in confusion. The only pain he felt was from his bitten ear, and in his paws, which had been sore for days from scrambling over rock. “I’m okay,” he mumbled.
Before Hollypaw could say any more, a few of the trespassers crept timidly out from among the rocks. Stripes was in the lead. He had lost most of the fur from one shoulder and his muzzle was bleeding. He limped up to Crag and Brambleclaw and dipped his head.
“You have won,” he rasped. “We will respect your borders from now on, if only you leave our queens and kits alone.”
Crag and Brambleclaw glanced at each other, as if they were considering what the silver tom had said. Part of Lionpaw wanted to yowl, No! Drive them out! But he kept silent.
“The Tribe has no quarrel with queens or kits,” Crag meowed at last. “We will leave you in peace so long as you stay on your own side of the border.”
Stripes dipped his head again and waved his tail to lead his battered companions back through the cleft into their camp.
Lionpaw watched them go. Had Tigerstar and Hawkfrost really fought beside him in the battle? Or did their shadows stalk the woods beside the lake, waiting for his return? There were no voices now, no praise for the way he had fought, nothing but Hollypaw trying to check him for wounds.
“Lie down and rest,” she begged. “Do you want me to fetch Jaypaw? I’ll get him here somehow.”
“I’m okay,” Lionpaw insisted. “I don’t need help.”
Brambleclaw was rounding up his warriors, Clan and Tribe, ready for the journey back to the cave. Lionpaw joined them, falling in beside Breezepaw and Pebble, trying to ignore Hollypaw’s fussing as she padded along on his other side, clearly expecting him to collapse at any moment.
Pebble’s eyes were gleaming. “Did you see them run?” she mewed.
“I always knew the Clans would sort out the Tribe’s problems,” Breezepaw told her loftily. “You’ll be grateful to us forever!”
Catching Hollypaw’s troubled green gaze, Lionpaw could see that she wasn’t so sure. But the battle was won. He had won the battle. And he would fight it all over again in a heartbeat.
Chapter 29
Jaypaw lay in the sleeping hollow where the scents of his littermates still lingered. He did not try to sleep; his ears were pricked for the first sounds of the returning warriors. His belly churned with apprehension. What if Hollypaw or Lionpaw died in the battle? What would happen to the prophecy then, if three suddenly became two—or even one? How could he bear to be without them?