“Well caught,” Yellowfang remarked.

“Come and share?” Crookedstar invited her.

“Maybe later.” Yellowfang didn’t look back.

A little farther on, Jayfeather spotted Barkface, the old WindClan medicine cat; his heart gave a leap of sorrow when he saw that the cat with him was Flametail. They stood beside a clump of thyme; Barkface was pointing something out to the younger cat.

“Hey, Jayfeather, come and join us!” Flametail called.

Jayfeather’s paws were tugging him toward the medicine cats, but Yellowfang let out an annoyed hiss, and he had to follow her. “Sorry!” he replied. “Another time.”

As he turned back to follow Yellowfang, Jayfeather spotted a gray tom running swiftly through the trees. He halted, staring; as if aware of his gaze the other cat stopped and glanced back over his shoulder, returning Jayfeather’s stare with burning blue eyes. Then he turned and ran on, vanishing behind a clump of hazel saplings.

“Ashfur!” Jayfeather exclaimed, spinning around to face Yellowfang. He felt cold to the tips of his claws. “He’s here?”

“Why not?” The old cat’s voice was steady. “His only fault was to love too much.”

Jayfeather let out a snort of disbelief. “Hardly. He tried to push us off the cliff!”

“But he didn’t,” Yellowfang pointed out. “Squirrelflight stopped him—and maybe her only fault is that she loved too much, as well.”

“What do you mean?”

Yellowfang shrugged. “Work it out for yourself, mouse-brain. And get a move on. I haven’t got all day.”

Sighing in exasperation, Jayfeather followed her along a winding track that climbed through the trees until they emerged at the foot of a grassy hill. Yellowfang bounded up the slope and waited for Jayfeather to join her, panting, at the top.

“You need more exercise,” she commented, giving him a prod with one paw.

“I’ve been on my paws all night,” Jayfeather retorted. “StarClan cats might not get tired, but I do. What are we doing here, anyway?”

“Just look.” Yellowfang waved her tail at the scene below them.

Jayfeather gazed over the tops of the trees. StarClan’s forest looked open and inviting, dotted with clearings and lighter-colored trees, and cut through by a sparkling river. Cats were playing in the shallows, throwing up spray and splashing one another with the shining droplets. Jayfeather recognized the strong bodies and sleek pelts of RiverClan.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Yellowfang prompted after a few moments.

“Yes,” Jayfeather whispered.

The old medicine cat padded so close to him that their pelts brushed. “All this depends on you, Jayfeather,” she mewed. “You’re not just protecting ThunderClan now but all the Clans, including this one.”

Me? Jayfeather wanted to wail out loud like a lost kit, but he forced himself to stand still, looking across the peaceful landscape. “You don’t want me to go to the mountains because you’re scared of what will happen to the Clans.”

The old cat bowed her head. “Sometimes the right choice can be the hardest one,” she rasped.

Scenes flashed through Jayfeather’s mind, and he realized that he was seeing her memories: a younger Yellowfang, suckling a dark brown tabby kit; the same kit, big enough now to be an apprentice, fighting savagely with a young black she-cat; then muscular and full-grown, brushing through bracken with a terrified, mewling kit in his jaws; older now, with scarred, blinded eyes, crouched against a thorny barrier with a much younger Dustpelt guarding him. Last of all, Yellowfang herself, casting glances at the dark tom and snagging a scarlet deathberry on one claw.