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| - Mattimeo and his companions race to the landslide beneath which their parents are buried, and are seen by Slagar who sends fellow Slavers to recapture them. Within the cave Matthias and the pursuers are close to suffocating while above them-- and unknown to them-- Mattimeo digs frantically. And Slagar watches. Beneath Redwall Abbey, John, father of the captured Tim and Tess, helps decipher the ancient Loamscript-- but it contains more questions than answers. They work on, unaware that solving the complex riddle will give them an answer to where their young ones are being taken. The answer indicates the South-- and Warbeak and her Sparra squadrons take copies of the partly-solved riddle and fly South to try and find Matthias. Mattimeo is recaptured by Slagar and cruelly forced to abandon his dying father--it forces the last step in his transformation which chills even Slagar with its cold intensity. Mattimeo has become a warrior as, behind him, his father Matthias is released by Log-a-Log and his shrew army-- and prepares to again take up the pursuit.
- Not for the first time, Dewstar felt a deep pang of loss for the cat he regarded as the best leader SpringClan had ever had. He didn't know how he could keep his Clan from falling, let alone live up to Oakstar's legacy of quiet nobility and endless love. He didn't want to end up like Quailstar. The cat stirred. "Dewstar?" One brilliant green eye glowed up at him. "Hollystrike. How are you?" "They're asleep." She smiled gently down at the two bundles of fur tucked against her belly, but it was a sad sort of smile. "I can see that. Precious, dear things. But I asked about you." She stood carefully, using her nose to nudge Owlkit and Vixenkit closer together for warmth. "Owlkit hasn't been talking. They're old enough, but he's just stopped. Vixenkit doesn't understand, and it's angering her. After losing everyone, she doesn't know why her brother, the only one left, won't even speak to her." "Not the only one left. She has you." Hollystrike made a small noise of disparagement. "I'm not made to be a mother." "I know. I have some news. Another she-cat in the Clan is expecting kits, and has offered to raise Owlkit and Vixenkit so you can resume warrior duties." She lit up for a second, then deflated. "Resume warrior duties," she echoed, her voice full of regret. "Dewstar, I was banished from my Clan, remember?" He glanced away. "Of course. Forgive me, I didn't mean to be presumptuous." "What do you--Oh! You meant warrior duties here. Nonsense, you weren't being presumptuous. You were being kind. I am glad I can leave the nursery, though of course I'll still spend every possible second with my nephew and niece that I can. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say... SpringClan has been very hospitable to me." She hesitated. "While I'm here, I would like to patrol and hunt and help any way I can." He dipped his head at her. "That is appreciated." Her eye narrowed. "I--You're being oddly formal today." He shrugged. She dropped her head, and he said more gently, "You still haven't answered my question." "I'm fine, Dewstar. You have other things to worry about. How is the apprentice that collapsed?" Hollystrike's face tightened with concern. "The medicine cats are trying their best." Dewstar wondered if she could read through his steady voice, down to the fear beneath. Breezeflight had pulled him aside earlier, and he could tell she was holding back tears. What was wrong with Brightpaw, she'd said, could not be fixed so easily. "Gorsepaw wanted to see her." "I gave him permission, as long as a warrior is watching him." Relief showed on her face. "Thank you. I know what he did was wrong, and you have every right not to trust him. But that was really decent of you. He cares about her, you know." "I don't intend to treat anyone like dirt because they're GreenClan." He couldn't help the trace of defensiveness that crept into his voice. "Or deny the fact that a GreenClan cat could care for a SpringClan cat, or vice versa. Even if it is against the warrior code." "No, of course not," she murmured. "You saved my life." She was tilting her head. She did that a lot, he had noticed. Trying to hide the scar where Viperstar had torn her left eye. She didn't understand. Yes, she had a beautiful green gaze, and half was lost. But the scar didn't matter. Viperstar couldn't possibly rip out what mattered. "But you forget, sometimes." He raised his eyebrows. "I forget?" She was smiling a little. "Yes. You forget that I was deputy of GreenClan. I'm not just a maiden in distress." "Oh, trust me, I know. You managed to evade GreenClan, didn't you? And even before that, the first time I ever saw you. Defiant. Unafraid.Telling Viperstar the Order would never work." "I was afraid when he knocked me down, slashed my face, and banished me. Maybe I shouldn't have done what I did. It cost me," she said bitterly. "You are the rightful leader of GreenClan," he said truthfully. She finally looked at him head-on, and he hoped she couldn't see his selfish thoughts, the ones he was trying so hard to push away. "Thank you for saying that. I know there are cats in your Clan who just want us exterminated. Not restored." Dewstar shook his head. "With every passing day, it becomes more obvious that the war between GreenClan and SpringClan is a way to distract from the true danger." "The Prophecy of Rocks." "You've been eavesdropping." "Perhaps. I get bored." "You won't have to worry about that anymore." "Right. So who's the lucky--and extraordinarily sweet--she-cat?" He grinned. "You know the fluffy one?" Her eye lit up. "Chamomile! Specklenose is the father?" "Who else?" "Oh StarClan, that's so wonderful. Shall I go congratulate them?" "Of course." But she lingered on a moment. "I just wanted you to know... we all have them. Those thoughts. Not good enough, not strong enough, not brave enough. But you are. You're so young to be leading this Clan, yet you refuse to break. I'm not stupid, Dewstar. I might not be from SpringClan, but I know what strength is." "Because you have it too," he said without thinking. She laughed, stepping towards the nursery exit so that she stood beside him. "Someday, maybe, when I'm leader of GreenClan and you're leader of SpringClan... We could make our Clans work together for the vale. We could forge a peace." The sun was rising over the camp; it spilled through the nursery awning and turned her cream pelt blindingly bright. She was cut from stone and marble, scarred and whole, taken from her home and yet still regal and a born ruler. "Yes. A peace." Peace was all he wanted. It was. The intense look vanished from her face, replaced by a light-hearted excitement. "Will you watch the kits please? I want to thank Chamomile and congratulate her." "Of course." He watched her bound outside, then trotted over to the nest. Vixenkit was still dozing, but Owlkit was peering up at him with large eyes. "Hello," Dewstar said in what he hoped was a fatherly tone. No response. He couldn't help but be disappointed; he'd hoped to have some sort of magical connection with the kit that would loosen his tongue again. But of course it wasn't that easy. Scars didn't heal quickly; sometimes they took a lifetime. - - - - "Specklenose, I am going to kill you!" Minkears barged in on the two of us, eyes blazing, and turned on the tom. Specklenose gulped and backed into me, quailing in the face of her wrath. "You're going to be a father? Why am I the last cat on the face of the planet to find out about this?" "I--uh--" "I was just congratulating him on it." For a she-cat who had always been known for her cynicism and aloofness, my voice was sounding suspiciously trembly. I cleared my throat and tried for a gruffer tone. "As long as his kits don't wind up as annoying as he was when he was one." "Oh, shut up," he said, giving me a fond look, and suddenly the three of us were wrapped in a sloppy embrace, clinging to each other as we sank to the ground, limbs tangled together as we shared our warmth. I buried my face in Specklenose's fur to hide the fact that I was crying. I was so overjoyed on behalf of him and Cammy, but I was also still completely dumbfounded. Specklenose, the little kit who had pulled mine and Daisyheart's tails when we were little and chased us around the camp for countless hours, was going to have kits of his own? "You're all grown up," whispered Minkears, her tone partly regretful, partly awed. "You're going to be a wonderful father, too," I added. "And Chamomile will be a sweet, caring mother." Specklenose nodded. He looked dazed by his own happiness, his eyes shining bright as stars. "She already has practice taking care of me," he joked. "Good point," smirked Minkears. "Shut up. No one asked you." We stood up, but stayed with our pelts pressed together, talking comfortably for a few minutes. I leaned into Specklenose and Minkears, reflecting on how incredible it was that after all that had happened, I had managed to hold onto the most precious thing in my life: my friends. This was a friendship that had survived innumerable disasters, fights, tragedies, and had only grown stronger in spite--or perhaps because--of it. "Talk names," said Specklenose. "I'm thinking Specklekit and Nosekit." Both Minkears and I groaned loudly. "What?" protested an offended Specklenose. "Chamomilekit is way too long." While Minkears and Specklenose argued, I gradually felt my enthusiasm seep out of me. My mind returned, inevitably, to other, graver matters. Not wanting to disturb them, especially so that I wouldn't dampen Specklenose's happiness, I quietly slipped away. It was still just before dawn; most of the Clan was still asleep in their dens. I trotted through the camp till I reached the medicine cat's den. Blossomleaf greeted me. "How is she?" I said immediately. Shaking her head, the medicine cat stepped back so I could enter. Brightpaw lay on a pallet of grass in the warmest corner of the den. She was no longer spitting blood, but her nose was runny, and she wasn't eating. There were two shapes bent over her, one large and broad-shouldered, the other hunched over and looking like he was trying to appear as small as possible. The larger shape, Lionpatch, straightened. "I'm so worried. A few hours ago she was able to talk, but her condition has worsened. She's in a comatose state." "What's wrong with her?" The smaller shape near Brightpaw revealed itself to be Gorsepaw. "I think I know," he whispered, then flinched, as if we would kill him for even speaking. "It's the shadowhopping. Every time I see her after she's done it, she looks so weak and drained. I think it's finally gotten to be enough for her body." "Breezeflight," Blossomleaf said in a warning tone, as if she sensed the crescendo of rage and frustration in me that longed to spew out in the form of seizing Gorsepaw and beating him senseless. He knew about shadowhopping; Brightpaw had trusted him enough to tell him about her ability. She'd trusted him, spent time with him, precious time, a commodity that now seemed like it might be in dangerously short supply in her life. It wasn't fair. Why did we give our hearts up only to have them broken? I couldn't stand looking at Brightpaw in this state, so far fallen from her lively-eyed youth. Perhaps the fear of death was just a ploy, a distraction put in place by the greatest deceiver in the world: life. Life, who taunted and tempted us into offering her the choicest bits of ourselves, our hopes and dreams, who swept them all away ruthlessly as soon as we were close enough to touch. "You need to calm down," Blossomleaf whispered in my ear. "Losing control of yourself isn't going to help her." I shook my head and staggered out of the medicine cat's den, blindly tripping over my own paws in my desperation to get out. I nearly ran right into Dewstar. "Just the cat I was looking for. We need to talk. I'm holding a war council." "A what? What for?" I wanted to scream in his face and throw things. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about things that would hurt more cats. "Infiltrating the GreenClan tunnels. Isn't that what you've been saying we have to do all along? We need to get Poolpaw and Petalpaw back. Viperstar won't listen to reason, so we have to use force." The world swung. I didn't know which way was up and which way was down, what was right and what was wrong. I tried to walk past Dewstar. "I can't talk about this right now." He stopped me. "Breezeflight, this is important. You can't walk away." "You realize there's some kind of beast we have to worry about, right? And we don't have a third of the Prophecy. And we don't know what the parts we do have mean." "And two apprentices are missing," snarled Dewstar, suddenly angry. "I will not have Cloverflower and Cranelegs's daughters die because you think you've been given the short end of the stick and would prefer to sulk and feel sorry for yourself instead of acting like a warrior." I sort of lost my cool. I know, I know. Dewstar was the leader of my Clan. I should've shown some respect. But I was pissed. How dare he accuse me of not acting like a warrior? "For your information, I have not sulked!" I all but shouted. "I got the Life-Rock. I got another part of the Prophecy from Seabreeze. I figured out what the ring of fire is!" I wake up every night from nightmares. I flinch when I step on sharp pebbles because I think that bones are rising out of the ground. I hold back tears when I see Ren around the camp because the ghost of my dead best friend walks beside him. A mocking echo of my own words rung in my ears. The anger in Dewstar's eyes faded to pity, which was much, much worse. "Get yourself together," he said, his voice impassive. "You have an hour." "Wait," I said. "Can't you--can't we--" "I care about you, Breezeflight. You know I always will; I will never forget being your mentor. But right now? I'm your leader and you're my warrior. More importantly, you're a warrior of SpringClan." His gaze locked with mine. "Heroism is not stopping all the bad. Heroes are made by how far they walk after the bad has crippled, wounded, broken and savaged them." My throat tightened. "Sounds like fun," I croaked. "My den. An hour's time. Goldenburst and some of the other senior warriors will be there. Leave your tears at the door." I began to walk away, but said in a rough voice as I did, "What tears?" At least he'd given me an hour. I needed to get my mind back in the right place. With that goal in mind, I bounded out of the camp, cutting a path through the silent woods. Once I'd trotted along for a few minutes, I slowed my pace, letting my paws become silent as they fell on the snow-covered ground. My black pelt made hunting during leaf-bare a little tricky, but I'd learned to rely on camouflage techniques to make up for my conspicuousness. Now I slunk behind a fallen bough of pine, knowing the sharp scent and dense cover of needles would be a prime hiding spot, and waited. Sure enough, after about ten minutes, a snowshoe made an appearance, nose twitching, eyes bright, ears perked. There was that moment of connect. I could see the rabbit's mind go, Wait a minute. I didn't see anything else, because in the next instant I was leaping out of my hiding spot like a scared woodpigeon, snow flying up around my paws as I surged into the air. My claws only managed to graze my prey's haunch as it kicked off in a flat-out sprint, leaving a sprinkling of blood on the snow where it had stood. I lost no time in giving pursuit. Even with my reputation for being a fast runner (and being modest, too), there was no way I could've outrun the rabbit if it hadn't been wounded. It took a lot--heart roaring, lungs burning--as it was. I finally took the creature down, killing it as swiftly as possible by taking its head in my jaws and yanking. A low whistle punctuated the air. Ryan emerged, like he always did, out of nowhere, his black coat rumpled and dusted with snow like he'd been rolling in it. "Nice catch. That was impressive." "Are you stalking me?" "I was hunting with Lily and Chamomile, actually. Told them to take the prey back to camp." I gave him a smile. "Delegating responsibilities, huh? How about you be a gentletom and carry this rabbit back for me?" He narrowed his eyes. "So you can run off and sulk by yourself?" I threw up my paws. "Unbelievable. Why does everyone think I spend all my time sulking?" He eyed me curiously. "What's wrong?" "How's Chamomile? Shouldn't she be moving in to the nursery instead of galavanting around in the middle of leaf-bare?" "Don't change the subject. She promise to move in tonight, but she wanted one last hunt with her siblings before she becomes a 'boring old queen.'" "She'll be a great mother, what's she talking about?" "Do you think I'm stupid, Breezeflight?" "Is that a trick question?" "Seriously." "'Cause I'm not sure if you wanna hear the answer to that." He stepped closer in a pathetic attempt to intimidate me. When Specklenose and Chamomile stood by each other, she was short enough for him to rest his chin on her head without even stretching. Ryan and I were almost the same height, which forced me to look directly into his eyes. I could see every snowflake caught in his disheveled fur, every sharp angle of his face, outlined in bone and sinew under his midnight pelt. Without thinking, I reached up and patted his head. He blinked and scowled. "What was that for?" She-cats and toms, introducing: me. Casanova extraordinaire. Behold my charms. "You had snow on your head," I said romantically. He sighed. "Okay, whatever you say. Just tell me why you're out here." I scrutinized him. "Why?" "Why else? So I know how I can help." HIs eyes bore into mine. I dropped my gaze and pursed my lips. "That's not going to work." "What?" "Getting close so you can intimidate me." "That is the last reason I have for getting close to you," he said, a little too naturally for me to believe the belated laugh he gave, his hackles rising in embarrassment. I stared at the dead rabbit at my paws, half envying its peaceful expression. "I have to get back to camp. Dewstar wants my advice." "Well, aren't you special." "You know I didn't mean it like that." "I was kidding." "Brightpaw. That's what's wrong. It's Brightpaw." He stopped in his tracks. "I know it is," he said quietly. "I just wanted you to trust me enough to tell me." "I do trust you," I said helplessly. "Not like you used to." "I don't know what to tell you, Ryan. Things aren't the way they used to be. Neither are we." In the end, it was the second I flicked my gaze upwards that finished me. No way could I hold with that golden gaze and not be honest. "She's fading fast. Gorsepaw--the mangy worthless piece of traitor scum--" "Of course," Ryan interrupted sarcastically, and I curled my lip at him. "--thinks it's because she's been shadowhopping, and I agree. It's her power. It's draining her." And suddenly Ryan was the one unable to bring himself to meet my gaze. "StarClan." I let out a soft moan. "Don't tell me. You and Fire--?" "She's an apprentice." His tone was defensive. "It's worse for her." "Is that what you three were talking about?" Oh man, this was it. I was done. I was so mad, I was surprised the snow around me hadn't started melting, seared away by the pure heat of my rage. "Breezeflight, I'm fine. Look at me." "I am looking at you. You look exhausted and spent." "Yeah, because I wake up every night to--" I stepped back. "To comfort me when I'm..." "That's not what I meant," he said, his voice becoming ragged. I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. What's going on?" He opened his mouth, and I added tersely, "And be honest, Ryan." "It's the powers of legend." "What about them?" "Something dark. I can't explain it; I can only feel it. Every time I try to use my power, whatever I see is accompanied by these shadows, everywhere. This horrible feeling, like somebody's stuck something in my veins and is sucking out my life-blood." I shuddered. "Oh, stars. Ryan, you can't live like that. We have to figure out what's going on." He picked up the rabbit I'd caught. "It's cold and you're shivering. Let's get back to camp. You have a meeting to attend." "Yeah, right. Your health is more important than a meeting." He rolled his eyes but failed at hiding a smile. "What happened to Breezepaw? Little Miss Choose My Clan Over All Else." "Meet Breezeflight. Just as loyal, only to everything and everyone I care for." His eyebrows went up. He swallowed hard before saying simply, "Huh." "I told you. We've both changed." "Indeed. Come on. Hurry up." I grinned and bumped my shoulder to his. "Thanks for being my porter. You can have a rabbit leg when we get back." "Oh, please. This is all for me. You'll be lucky to get a sliver of ear skin." "Hey, everyone! This is a council, not a free-for-all! So would you all kindly shut your fat mouths?" Dewstar yelled as the assembly broke out into the third screaming match of the evening. I was, by far, the most irreverent member, currently in the process of shouting directly in Mintwhisker's face without even having realized it. My cheeks went up in flame. I apologized out loud to Mintwhisker, silently apologized to Oakstar up in StarClan for yelling at his mate, and assumed a more polite sitting position with my paws in my own personal space bubble. Dewstar was glaring at me. He probably thought I hadn't taken his advice and used the hour of free time I had to cool down, but I had. I had shared the rabbit with Ryan, helped Lily make a nest for Cammy in the nursery, and played with Vixenkit (while Owlkit looked on in the silence that had become his custom now). I had cooled all the way down, then come in here and boiled over again. Which probably wasn't healthy. Ryan had told me I needed to find something therapeutic to do, and Blossomleaf had seconded this. I told them both that running was therapeutic for me, at which point Ryan had announced me certifiably insane. "I am making an executive decision. I know everyone has a million different opinions on this matter, but I am the leader of SpringClan, and it is time for us to act. I will be dividing our warriors into three patrols: two ground patrols, one guard patrol for the camp. Breezeflight will lead one ground patrol, and Fire will lead the other, since they have both been in the tunnels before. Goldenburst will lead the guard patrol." "But Dewstar, I should be on this mission--" protested Goldenburst. Dewstar shook his head. "There's a good chance Viperstar will try to take advantage of our distraction with a counterattack. We need your expertise here." "I'll be on the mission, right?" interrupted the cream she-cat seated at the far corner of the council, as if she still wasn't quite sure she had a right to be there. Hollystrike, the former GreenClan deputy. Dewstar stared at her like she was crazy. "Of course not." "But I know how my old Clan thinks. You need me." "She's right," I said quickly. "She can give us their secrets, like Gorsepaw's been giving them ours." Hollystrike flinched and turned on me coldly. "I am not a spy or a traitor. Not for you, not for this Clan, not for all the world laid at my paws. Don't forget that I'm GreenClan at heart." Something twisted in Dewstar's eyes, but vanished before I could even be sure I'd seen it properly. "Fine," he said shortly. "Hollystrike can come. But be careful," he added, giving the cream she-cat a look of what I could only describe as resentment, even though that made no sense. "You might think you're GreenClan, but I doubt Viperstar will spare you out of Clanmate love if he gets near you." She sniffed. "I don't need his love. I just need my own claws, Dewstar." Their eyes locked, hers defiant, his a mixture of frustration and anger. Mostly to break the tension, I asked "What's our mission? How does it work, I mean?" "Fire's patrol will hold off GreenClan cats. You get Poolpaw and Petalpaw." I raised my eyebrows. "Sounds ridiculously oversimplified," said Thistleblossom, which is exactly what I was thinking. "We can't plan it all out, because we don't know what we're going to be facing. Having a rigid plan will destroy our ability to think on our paws and react quickly to any unforeseen challenges." Mintwhisker nodded approvingly. Her eyes glinted. "It's how Oakstar would've done it." Dewstar raised his chin, seeming to gain a fraction of courage from that. "This is the plan, and it goes into action tomorrow. Are we all in?" One by one, each of us nodded. "Good." Quieter, almost to himself, he muttered, "Being a leader means making decisions that could lead to cats getting hurt. It's just the cost." Hollystrike raised her chin, and finally the air of enmity seemed to break between us and her. She moved towards the center of the den, and she and Dewstar looked eerily similar, the hard resolve in their faces, the set of their jaws, the power in their stance. Two leaders. "We will follow you, Dewstar. Come what may," Mintwhisker vowed. I nodded in agreement. "That's what it means to be a warrior."
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