Knowing how important it was for him to get some rest before setting out, he stumbled into his nest and curled up, wrapping his tail over his nose. Instantly, as it seemed, he opened his eyes and realized that he was in StarClan. He lay in long grass on the bank of a stream that gurgled over stones. The water reflected red light; Jayfeather looked up to see the sky stained with bars of scarlet as the sun went down in a brilliant blaze. All around him the shadows of evening were gathering, and a chilly wind whispered through the grass and ruffled the surface of the stream. As Jayfeather rose to his paws and looked around, a nearby clump of bracken quivered and a cat emerged into the open. Jayfeather studied the messy, clumped gray fur and snaggly teeth.

“Yellowfang,” he greeted her.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Yellowfang rasped. “What’s all this nonsense about going to the mountains?”

Jayfeather flicked up his ears in surprise. “You know about that? Did Rock speak to you too?”

Yellowfang let out a snort of disgust. “That one doesn’t speak much to any cat.”

Jayfeather wondered how much the former medicine cat knew about Rock. “You don’t think I should go?”

“I think it’s a mouse-brained scheme,” Yellowfang replied, baring her teeth. “The Dark Forest is rising. You should stay in ThunderClan and protect your Clanmates.”

“The Tribe of Rushing Water is linked to the destiny of the Clans,” Jayfeather argued.

“That’s not your responsibility,” Yellowfang snapped.

“But what if it is?” Jayfeather insisted. Yellowfang might change her opinion if she knew that Jayfeather had traveled back to the time of the ancient cats who had once lived beside the lake.

But she doesn’t know, and I’m not going to tell her. Not yet. Not here.

Yellowfang let out a sigh. “Come, walk with me,” she meowed, abandoning the argument.

Jayfeather padded at her shoulder as she led him along the bank of the stream beside thick clumps of bracken and herbs. Jayfeather breathed in their scents, trying to identify each one, and wishing with all his heart that he could take some of them back with him to ThunderClan.

Comfrey…celandine…marigold. And I’m trying to cope with a few dried-up leaves!

Other cats brushed through the undergrowth, dipping their heads as they passed. Some of them looked strong, their colors as vivid as if they were still alive. Others were pale, like wisps of vapor, as if the next stiff breeze would blow them into nothingness. Jayfeather spotted Lionheart and Whitestorm from ThunderClan, sharing tongues in the shadow of an elder bush. A beautiful white she-cat, unknown to Jayfeather, was with them, and a tiny kit frolicked around her paws. He would have liked to stop and talk but Yellowfang stalked on with nothing more than a passing nod.

Crookedstar, the former RiverClan leader, was sitting beside the stream, staring down into the water. As Jayfeather watched, he flashed out a paw and hooked a gleaming silver fish. It flapped helplessly on the bank until Crookedstar killed it with a single bite.