“How can you be sure?” Needlepaw asked, tilting her head to one side.
“Because the other Clans—our Clans—drove SkyClan out of the forest. That was so shameful, it’s been kept a secret ever since. My visions were telling me to go to SkyClan and bring them back to share our territory by the lake—to clear the sky, like in the prophecy.”
Alderpaw’s voice began to shake as he realized the depth of his failure. “I messed up! I didn’t understand the first vision right away, and then Sandstorm died… We got to the gorge too late. We couldn’t find what lay in the shadows, because SkyClan had already left. Now the sky will never clear! Who knows what will happen to the Clans? And it’s all because I’m a terrible medicine cat!”
He crouched down on the hard Twoleg path and rested his nose on his paws, letting out a desolate whimper. It seemed there was nothing but darkness ahead of him.
Needlepaw said nothing, and when Alderpaw at last looked up again, she was sitting watching him with her tail curled neatly around her forepaws and a skeptical look on her face. “Are you done?” she asked.
Alderpaw flicked an ear, annoyed with Needlepaw and with himself for breaking down in front of her. “I guess so.”
“You’re being stupid and self-pitying.”
Needlepaw’s tone was harsh. “It would have taken the rogues a long time to set up in SkyClan’s old camp. And from the way you described Mistfeather, all ragged and skinny, the attack didn’t happen just yesterday. With the timing of your visions, there’s no way we could have made it to the gorge in time to save SkyClan.”
Alderpaw took all that in, beginning to feel a tiny bit better. “So?” he mewed at last.
“So,” Needlepaw responded, rising to her paws and heading off down the alley, “your visions must mean something else.”
Alderpaw was silent for a moment, thinking everything over. At the end of the alley they spotted the bridge a little way downstream, where Bob had told them it was. To his relief, it wasn’t a huge Thunderpath carrying monsters across the river, but a narrow, wooden structure, a bit like the half-bridges that jutted out into the lake. With no Twolegs in sight, it took only a couple of heartbeats for Alderpaw and Needlepaw to dart across.
On the opposite side of the river, a small stream trickled into the main current, tracking through long grasses with a belt of woodland beyond. Alderpaw’s spirits rose as they headed into the trees, but he still couldn’t stop worrying over the meaning of his quest.
He had to admit that what Needlepaw had said made sense. But if my visions weren’t leading me to SkyClan so I could save them, what were they doing? It was hard for him to feel that anything had been accomplished on the journey. We haven’t saved any cats. We haven’t embraced what we found in the shadows. We barely managed to survive ourselves. And we lost Sandstorm. Is there something else I should have done?
Without guidance from StarClan, Alderpaw felt as helpless as a kit.
Together Alderpaw and Needlepaw trekked across open country for several sunrises, heading toward the setting sun. They crossed Thunderpaths, skirted Twolegplaces, and found their way through fields where strange animals cropped the grass and watched them curiously.
Now, toward the end of another tough day, Alderpaw was weary and cold, tired of sleeping under bushes or in drafty hollows in the ground.
He longed for his comfortable nest in the stone hollow.
At least my hunting skills have improved, he thought grimly. It seems like all I needed was to go hungry a few times, to concentrate my mind on the prey just like Molewhisker wanted me to.
From time to time, he and Needlepaw had picked up the scent of the other questing cats, which reassured them that they were going in the right direction. But each time they found the traces, they were fainter and staler, as if the others were moving faster and drawing farther ahead.
The daylight was dying, and gray clouds were massing overhead. A chilly wind blew across the grass, ruffling the cats’ fur. Now and again Alderpaw felt the sharp sting of rain, and he guessed that a storm was coming.
That’s all we need! he groaned inwardly.
Suddenly Needlepaw, a little way ahead, let out an excited cry and began racing forward.
“Wait! What’s the matter?” Alderpaw called after her.
“It’s the farm!” Needlepaw tossed the words over her shoulder. “The one we passed through on the way!”
Bounding after Needlepaw, Alderpaw spotted the shiny fence and the field where the tall, yellow-brown plants had grown. Now only spiky stubble remained, and there was no sign of the monster with the spinning jaws.
Needlepaw reached the fence and easily scrambled over it, then pelted onward toward the cluster of Twoleg dens.
“Wait! Come back!” Alderpaw yowled, but Needlepaw ignored him.
At the same moment the skies opened and rain cascaded down, drenching Alderpaw within heartbeats. He could barely see Needlepaw ahead of him through the driving screen of raindrops. When he reached the fence, the shiny strands were already so wet and slippery that it took all his concentration to clamber over.
A sharp pang stabbed through Alderpaw as he remembered Sandstorm. This is where everything went wrong. This terrible sharp fence, and the sticky mud that made her wound worse. We must have passed her grave on the way without even realizing it. Oh, Sandstorm, I’m sorry…
Landing awkwardly on the other side, Alderpaw pushed aside his memories and managed to spot Needlepaw, still heading toward the center of the farm. “Stop! Come back!” he called again, but if she heard him, she paid no attention.
“Fox dung!” Alderpaw snarled. He knew that the sensible thing to do was to leave the farm, shelter under some trees until the storm was over, and then work out the best way to go. But he felt he had no choice now but to follow
Needlepaw.
She ran past the cluster of Twoleg dens and headed into the field with the big yellow barn.
Wide wooden doors barred the entrance, but there was a gap at the bottom, and Needlepaw managed to squeeze through. Growling with annoyance, Alderpaw flattened himself to the muddy ground and dragged himself through after her, the bottom of the door scraping his back fur.
Staggering to his paws, Alderpaw looked around. The huge barn was divided into sections by wooden barriers, and he stiffened when he saw that horses were standing in two of them.
“Needlepaw, watch out!” he called, then realized that long tendrils were tethering the horses in place. Thank StarClan! There’s no way they can get at us!
Needlepaw ran into one of the empty sections, then popped her head out and beckoned Alderpaw with a flick of her ears.
“Come on, mouse-brain!”
Alderpaw followed her. Inside the section, the barn floor was covered by dry stalks that reminded him of the yellow-brown plants in the field. A warm animal smell filled the air; the scent of horses was strongest, but Alderpaw detected mice too.
“Why did you come in here?” he asked Needlepaw, anger still surging inside him.
“Haven’t you learned anything? Twolegs are dangerous!”
Needlepaw settled down among the spiky stalks and began to groom herself. “I’d never want to live with Twolegs,” she mewed between strokes of her tongue, “but they do have nice warm dens, and loads of food. Would you really rather be outside in the rain right now?”
Listening to the rain battering down on the roof, Alderpaw had to admit that the annoying she-cat had a point. Letting out a sigh, he sank down into the stalks beside her.