Emotion swelled from her, sentimental and oppressive, filling his mind like a sticky cloud. Taken aback, he edged away and darted down onto the shore. Ahead, a stream was babbling as it flowed out of the forest and into the lake. This was where Mousepaw had lost the squirrel. And it was where he had found the stick. He hadn’t realized that they had come this far around the lake.
His paws tingled with excitement.
He picked his way over the shore, careful not to trip on the twigs and Twoleg rubbish washed up by the lake. A large drop of rain landed between his shoulder blades. He shook it off, ducking as another hit his nose. He could smell the stick now, its strange scent calling to him like a kit mewling for its mother. He hurried to where he had left it tucked behind the tree root and dragged it out onto the shore. He wanted to run his paws over it again, feel the scars in its smooth surface. His pads felt warm as they stroked it, his heart suddenly as full as a well-fed belly.
“Is that the same old stick you found last time?” Leafpool had caught up to him.
Jaypaw nodded.
“Why are you so interested in it?” Leafpool was puzzled.
“It feels important!” He rested both paws on the wood, as smooth as spider’s silk. A gentle murmuring filled his mind, like softly lapping waves. His paws traced the etching on the wood. They lingered on the uncrossed marks, and he felt sadness spike into his pads.
Rain was spattering on the leaves overhead and splashed in great drops onto his back.
“We should get back,” Leafpool decided.
“What about the stick?”
Thunder rolled in the distance. Wind whipped in off the lake, buffeting and pushing like a bad-tempered badger.
“We must get back to camp.” Leafpool sounded worried. “I can see the storm clouds coming. We shouldn’t be out in this.”
Jaypaw’s fur bristled. He felt lightning prickle in the air. A blast of wind pushed him sideways, knocking him away from the stick.
“Come on!” Leafpool urged.
Waves were pounding the shore now, beaten in by the rising wind.
“What about the stick?” Jaypaw called.
But Leafpool was already hurrying away. “Come on!” she ordered.
There was no time to drag it back to the safety of the root.
The wind was tearing at his fur, blowing back his ears. Pelting rain stung his eyes. Ducking down, Jaypaw darted after his mentor and raced back to the safety of the camp.
The rain had stopped but the wind still roared above the hollow.
Jaypaw lay in his nest and listened to the forest creaking high above the medicine den. The leaves swished like waves upon a shore. But Jaypaw hardly heard them. His ears were filled with whispering. His claws itched as he imagined the earthy scent of the stick. He rolled over in his nest and flattened his ears, but the whispering still breathed in his ears.
He stretched out and pummeled restlessly at the moss underneath him.
“Why don’t you go for a walk?” Leafpool murmured from her nest. “Before your fidgeting wakes Cinderpaw as well.”
“Okay.” Jaypaw sat up. His paws ached to be outside. He wanted to touch the stick once more.
He pushed his way through the brambles. Outside, the wind was stirring up the restless scents of newleaf so that the whole forest seemed to be swaying and fidgeting with impatience. Instinctively, Jaypaw knew that the sky was clear and the moon was shining. He could feel its cold light wash his pelt. As he headed for the camp entrance, the thorn barrier quivered.
“Jaypaw?”
Lionpaw was squeezing though the dirtplace tunnel.
“Hi, Lionpaw,” Jaypaw greeted him curiously. His brother’s pelt pricked with guilt and alarm. And it smelled of the wind.
“I was just making dirt.” Lionpaw was lying.
Jaypaw narrowed his eyes.
“I was just going out.” He sensed weariness in his brother’s paws and decided to test him. “Will you come with me?”
“If you want,” Lionpaw mewed warily.
Birchfall hailed them from the camp entrance. “Who’s there?”
“Only us,” Jaypaw called back. He padded toward the thorn tunnel. “We’re just going out into the forest.”
Birchfall purred. “A midnight adventure,” he meowed.
“That reminds me of my apprentice days.” He sounded wistful, even though he’d been a warrior for only a few moons.
Jaypaw didn’t say anything; Birchfall always liked to pretend he was vastly wise and experienced compared with apprentices but Jaypaw hadn’t forgotten the fuss he’d made over getting a thorn in his paw.
The warrior stepped aside, and Jaypaw felt the wind whisk down the tunnel. He beckoned to Lionpaw with his tail.
“Coming?”
Lionpaw followed Jaypaw through the barrier.
“Watch out for foxes!” Birchfall called after them.
Jaypaw shivered. The memory of the fox springing from the undergrowth while he and Brightheart trekked through the forest made his belly tighten.
