The Lost Prophecy: Book 2: Broken Destinies

Chapter 23

When ThunderClan arrived at Fourtrees, the scent of WindClan hung in the air. Standing at the edge of the ridge, Ravenpaw realized that he was out of breath from a run that he would have made easily before he'd gotten greencough. The last moon had passed in a haze, and Yellowfang had only cleared him to return to a full training schedule the previous day. Although he wasn't looking forward to spending time with Tigerclaw, Ravenpaw figured that once he started training every day again his endurance would improve. Strangely, Tigerclaw hadn't once tried to convince Yellowfang to let Ravenpaw continue with his apprentice duties before he was ready.

Unfortunately, it was clear that Tigerclaw's training sessions were about to resume with their same intensity as before. On the way to Fourtrees, Ravenpaw had fallen behind the rest of the Clan, and Tigerclaw had stormed back to fetch him.

"You!" he'd snapped. "What are you doing, sniffing every twig and leaf that cross your path?! Hurry up! We don't have all night! Bluestar and the rest of the Clan are waiting for you!"

"I'm coming, Tigerclaw!" Ravenpaw panted, making an effort to pick up the pace. The trek to Fourtrees would have been fine if he hadn't been expected to make the same time as he used to. His sides were aching.

"You're lucky she's willing to wait," Tigerclaw growled, falling into step beside him. "If I were in charge I wouldn't be so charitable to a leech like you! You can't keep up even after lazing about the camp for a moon!" Ravenpaw bowed his head. Tigerclaw pulled ahead, and looked back over his shoulder to glare menacingly at Ravenpaw as he left. "And don't think you're getting out of training tomorrow just because you got to go to the Gathering!"

Slipping over his paws, Ravenpaw nodded. "Yes, Tigerclaw."

It was difficult to hear anything besides Tigerclaw's disdain filled voice now. Ravenpaw had almost forgotten how fear inducing his mentor was after a peaceful moon of barely speaking with him.

Sometimes he would think of how calm the last moon had been, and guilt would hit him like a thorn-sharp claw. Dustpelt's argument with Yellowfang echoed in his ears at random. His brother was right; he was responsible for Cinderpaw's injury, and because of his actions Cinderpaw would be crippled for life. He shouldn't be so happy not training, not when he had taken away Cinderpaw's future.

Now though, Ravenpaw tried to focus on the Gathering. Bluestar would give the signal any moment now. Trying to distract himself from thoughts of Cinderpaw, he weaved his way through the ThunderClan cats so that he stood between Graystripe and Dustpelt. Relaxing when his brother didn't shift away, he squinted down at the clearing, noticing a black tom with a twisted foot, and beside him, a long tailed black and white tom. "I know that tom is Deadfoot. But is that who I think it is?" Ravenpaw angled his ears toward the warrior.

"I forgot you've never seen Tallstar before," Dustpelt replied. "Yes, that's him."

Ravenpaw wondered what to say next; this was the first time in a moon he'd had a pleasant conversation with Dustpelt. Unable to think of anything, he decided to stay silent, and shifted his gaze across the clearing again.

"I wonder how Morningflower's kit is settling in," Graystripe meowed. Dustpelt murmured agreement.

A familiar voice called out; Ravenpaw pricked his ears, wondering why he would recognize a mew that came from within the hollow before he recalled how he'd run from the WindClan cats on his way to the Moonstone. That voice belonged to a WindClan cat; it must have been one of the warriors that chased him off their territory. A drop of anxiety hung in his chest. He hadn't clearly been seen on WindClan territory, but what if they recognized him by scent? He'd never gotten around to telling Bluestar about his run in with WindClan, and now he wished he had.