Hollypaw took a quick breath, then threw herself at Cinderpaw. Before she knew what was happening, Cinderpaw had knocked one of her forelegs from under her with a powerful front paw, then tipped her over with a rolling shove from her hind legs.
Hollypaw scrambled to her feet and shook herself. “Wow!” she mewed, impressed. “Can I try?” She wanted to try the move in a slightly different way. As soon as Cinderpaw rushed her, she ducked her head, knocking Cinderpaw’s forepaw from under her with her muzzle. She was so low to the ground that it was easy to roll onto her side from there and thrust her hind legs in a powerful kick that sent Cinderpaw flying.
Cinderpaw scrambled to her paws. “I love the way you used your muzzle instead of your paw! It made your rollover much smoother. Can I try it that way on you?”
“Sure!”
Cinderpaw lunged for Hollypaw, this time using her muzzle to unbalance her, just as Hollypaw had done. She finished the move with a hind kick so much quicker that it sent Hollypaw skidding backward across the clearing.
Hollypaw sat up, panting.
“That was great, you two,” Cloudtail praised them.
Cinderpaw licked her paw and drew it over her ear to wipe off some moss that had caught on it. As she went to lick it again her paw twitched as though she were flicking dirt from between her claws. Hollypaw’s whiskers twitched with amusement; Cinderpaw’s little paw flick was something none of the other cats did.
“What did you think?” Hollypaw asked, turning to Leafpool. But Leafpool did not answer. She was staring at Cinderpaw with a look of startled disbelief. Hollypaw wondered if the apprentice had suddenly changed into a badger, but Cinderpaw was still sitting quietly, washing her ears.
“Leafpool?” Hollypaw mewed again.
Leafpool dragged her gaze from Cinderpaw, her eyes still round with shock. “Y-yes?”
“Are you okay?”
Leafpool shook her head as though to clear it. “Yes, of course. It’s just that Cinderpelt used to flick her paw just like that.” She glanced uneasily back at Cinderpaw, who had finished washing and was circling Cloudtail.
“Will you teach me how to do a back kick?” the gray apprentice begged.
“It’ll be dusk soon,” Cloudtail observed. “I think we should head back to camp.”
Leafpool nodded. “I want to check Millie’s paw while there’s still light.”
The sky was darkening above the trees, and the air was growing chillier. Even so, Hollypaw was sorry to leave the mossy clearing. Her body felt bruised and tired, but her mind was buzzing as she tried to work out how to make the moves she had learned even better.
As she followed Cloudtail and Cinderpaw up the bank and into the trees, Leafpool fell into step beside her. “You fought well. I was really impressed.”
For a moment Hollypaw was thrilled. Joy surged through her paws, making them light as dandelion floss.
Then her heart plummeted. She’s never praised me like this for being a medicine cat apprentice. Why wasn’t she as good at remembering herbs as she was at remembering fighting moves?
It will happen! Hollypaw told herself firmly. One day her mind would be as sharp in the medicine den as it was in the mossy clearing. It was just a matter of time. She had chosen to become a medicine cat, and she was not about to let herself or her Clan down.
Chapter 13
Jaypaw dawdled over his meal, taking minuscule bites from the mouse he had plucked from the fresh-kill pile.
Brook padded past with Stormfur. “No appetite today?”
“Not much,” Jaypaw muttered.
He went back to nibbling at his meal as the two warriors took fresh-kill from the pile and settled at the edge of the clearing. He was in no hurry to begin his apprentice duties.
Still confined to camp— days after Crowfeather had brought him home—he was bored with clearing out dens and running errands. This morning he was supposed to clean out Graystripe and Millie’s den. The new arrivals had recovered enough to eat in the clearing with the rest of the Clan.
“Nice catch, Dustpelt!” Graystripe called out from below Highledge, where he was sharing a rabbit with Millie.
“Thanks,” Dustpelt meowed back.
Jaypaw liked Graystripe. He was easygoing and good-humored, though still guarded when there were lots of cats around. Millie was all right too, for a kittypet. Still, he wasn’t looking forward to clearing the soiled moss from their den while they went out on their first patrol. It wasn’t fair; they would be out exploring the forest while he would be scrabbling through their stinky bedding.
He took another tiny bite from his mouse. He could sense Brightheart watching him from where she sat by the halfrock.
She was sharing tongues with Dustpelt, but her gaze kept flicking back to him. He could feel her frustration like thorns in his pelt. What did she expect of him? Was he supposed to be happy about cleaning out dens instead of learning how to hunt and fight? Even though he was confined to camp, there was enough space in the clearing for her to teach him some battle moves. But she seemed interested only in making him run around looking after his Clanmates. Was that all she thought he was good for?
“Hurry up, Jaypaw,” Brightheart called. “Once you finish Graystripe’s den, I promised Ferncloud that you’d play with her kits while she went hunting. She hasn’t been out of the camp for two moons.”
Jaypaw lashed his tail. “And when am I going to get to hunt?”
“Once you’ve learned to serve your Clan without complaining,” Brightheart told him mildly.
Jaypaw heard an amused purr rumble in Dustpelt’s throat.
“You’ll have to take him out eventually, Brightheart,” he meowed. “Before he drives us all crazy.”
“It was Firestar who confined him to camp,” Brightheart pointed out.
“I’m sure you could persuade Firestar that Jaypaw needs to be out training,” Dustpelt argued.
Jaypaw’s heart skipped with hope.
“There’s more to being a warrior than hunting and fighting,” Brightheart replied.
The thorn barrier rattled. The dawn patrol had returned.
Whitewing, Ashfur, Lionpaw, Spiderleg, and Mousepaw carried the scent of the forest temptingly into the clearing. And yet Jaypaw could sense anxiety among them; Ashfur was lashing his tail while Whitewing padded in agitated circles.
Brambleclaw swished out through the entrance of the warriors’ den, followed by Squirrelflight. “Anything to report?”
“ShadowClan are marking every tree along the border,” Ashfur replied, his mew sharp with anger.
Jaypaw felt an explosion of energy as Graystripe leaped to his paws. “Are ShadowClan up to their old tricks already?” the warrior spat. “If any of them set paw on ThunderClan territory while I’m on patrol, I’ll claw their ears off.”
“They haven’t crossed the new border yet,” Brambleclaw informed him. “So we’ve decided to ignore them.”
Graystripe snorted. “Ignore ShadowClan? You may as well try to ignore the wind and the rain—it won’t stop you from getting cold and wet!”
“That may be how it was in the forest,” Brambleclaw meowed. “But it’s not necessarily the best thing to do here.”
“Things are different since the Great Journey,” Squirrelflight added.
“Not so different that we should trust ShadowClan!”
Ashfur growled. “Some cats will always try to take what another cat has.”
Jaypaw sensed his mother flinch, as though stung. What did Ashfur mean, exactly?
“ShadowClan will always push for more than is rightfully theirs!” Dustpelt agreed.
Jaypaw’s whiskers quivered. He knew there had been dark mutterings about Firestar’s decision to give up territory to ShadowClan, but now the warriors were openly agreeing with Graystripe. Shouldn’t they be loyal to their leader first?