“That was different,” Onestar retorted.
“Exactly.” Firestar’s voice was quiet, but full of authority. “Back then, we had to join together to survive what the Twolegs were doing to the forest. I don’t believe StarClan would want us to stop helping each other now.”
“They would, if it meant keeping the Clans separate,” Onestar insisted. “There have always been four Clans. Every kit knows that.”
More protests broke out. “WindClan would have been destroyed without us!” Dustpelt yowled.
Onestar took a pace forward, his claws scraping on the bark. “Look up at the moon!” he rasped. “Do you see clouds covering it? No, it’s shining brightly—and that means StarClan agrees with what I’m saying.”
“No cat has ever claimed there shouldn’t be four Clans,” Firestar defended himself. “But that doesn’t mean StarClan want us to turn our backs on each other when trouble comes.”
“I can see why you would say that,” Onestar hissed. “You think your Clan is the strongest and make sure to prove it to the rest of us whenever you get a chance.”
“Mouse dung!” Blackstar growled. “ThunderClan helped us once. If they set paw on our territory without an invitation, they’ll find out just how strong we are.”
Leafpool dug her claws into the ground. Why couldn’t the other leaders see that Firestar was right? Even if there were four Clans, that didn’t mean they couldn’t help each other in a crisis. She turned to Cinderpelt, but before she could ask her mentor what she thought, she felt a light touch on her shoulder. Drawing in her breath sharply, she looked around to see Crowfeather crouching in the shadows at the edge of the clearing.
“I have to talk to you!” he whispered, jerking his head in the direction of the bushes.
Cinderpelt was staring up at the Clan leaders. Cautiously Leafpool slid backward until the shadows engulfed her, too. An overhanging branch screened them from the cats in the clearing as they pushed their way through the encircling bushes. Together they retreated a few pawsteps towards the shore of the island until they could put a jutting rock between themselves and the Gathering place.
“What happened to you?” Crowfeather’s eyes looked hurt. “Why didn’t you meet me that night?”
Leafpool swallowed nervously. “Don’t be angry with me,” she pleaded. “I couldn’t come. I had to help Mothwing.”
Crowfeather lashed his tail. “It’s no good, stealing moments together like this,” he murmured. “I never get to see you.”
“I know. I feel the same. But Crowfeather, I’m a medicine cat …” Leafpool knew this was her chance to tell Crowfeather that there was no point in loving her. But here, standing beside him, her pelt brushing his, his scent flooding over her, she couldn’t begin to find the right words.
For a moment her guilt and anxiety faded. She felt as though nothing mattered except being close to him, gazing into his burning amber eyes.
“I know there are problems,” Crowfeather went on, scraping the earth with his claws. “You’re a medicine cat, and we’re in different Clans. The whole of the warrior code is against us. But there must be a way.”
Leafpool blinked at him. “How?” All their difficulties came rushing back until she felt trapped by them.
The grey-black warrior was so tense she could almost see lightning playing around his fur. “I wish we could just escape everything!” he burst out. “Clans, traditions, all the rules and boundaries … I want to get away from all of it!”
“Escape?” Leafpool echoed. “Do you mean–go away?”
Was Crowfeather really suggesting they could leave their Clans and the lives they had known ever since they were kits? She would have to say goodbye to her mother and father, to Squirrelflight and Sorreltail, and to her mentor, Cinderpelt. More than that, she would have to give up her life as a medicine cat. Pain twisted in her belly. How could she face never again walking in dreams with StarClan, never seeing Spottedleaf, never healing her Clanmates with the help of her warrior ancestors?
Crowfeather nudged her. “Leafpool?”
Unhappily she shook her head. “We can’t leave our Clans. That’s not the answer.”
“I don’t know what the answer is, either.” He broke off with a hiss.
Leafpool realised that the sounds of argument from the clearing had died away; they could just hear Blackstar drawing the meeting to a close.
“It’s time to go,” Crowfeather muttered. “Tomorrow, at sunhigh, go and collect herbs by the stream near the stepping stones. I’ll come and talk to you there. Please.”
Without waiting for her reply he whipped around and skirted the bushes until he reached his Clanmates as they made for the tree bridge.
Leafpool waited for a few heartbeats before creeping back through the branches into the clearing. It didn’t look as if any cat had noticed her leaving to talk to Crowfeather. The medicine cats were still huddled together on the edge of the bushes. Leafpool padded over to join them.
“I’ve had the same dream again and again,” Littlecloud was meowing anxiously. “Warnings of danger to come … yet StarClan never tell me what the danger is.” He glanced anxiously from cat to cat. “Have any of you had a clearer sign?”
Leafpool didn’t look at Mothwing. There were now two medicine cats whose dreams were closed off to StarClan. Her warrior ancestors certainly hadn’t sent her the dream of the dark forest where she had seen Tigerstar and his sons. She couldn’t let any cat know she hadn’t received the dreams Littlecloud was describing, and she hoped that Cinderpelt wouldn’t ask her directly.
Mothwing broke the silence. “I don’t know what any of these dreams mean,” she mewed. Leafpool realised how careful she was being not to reveal her lack of faith in StarClan. “But we should warn our Clan leaders to be alert for danger.”
Cinderpelt dipped her head approvingly. “Good idea.”
“But what sort of danger?” Barkface asked with a twitch of his whiskers. “WindClan hasn’t seen much that could threaten us since we moved in, unless you count the fox, and that was quickly dealt with.”
“We had the problem with the Twoleg poison,” meowed Mothwing. Glancing at Leafpool, she added, “But StarClan sent a special warning about that.”
“And we had trouble with the kittypets.” Littlecloud nodded to Cinderpelt. “ThunderClan helped us sort that out, so StarClan wouldn’t still be sending dreams about it.”
“There must be another danger,” Cinderpelt decided. “Something that hasn’t come yet, and something that could affect every Clan.”
“All of us must keep watch for signs,” Barkface rumbled. “Maybe by the time of the half moon StarClan will have shown us something more.”
His words were the signal for them to leave. The clearing was almost empty as the last of the cats made their way out through the bushes. Leafpool emerged to find the stretch of shore beside the tree bridge crowded with cats milling around the roots, waiting for their turn to cross.
Leafpool let her gaze travel over them; when she spotted Crowfeather, she felt as if a bolt of lightning had ripped through her fur.
The WindClan warrior sprang nimbly onto the tree trunk and began making his way to the shore, balancing easily with his tail straight up in the air. Leafpool hardly knew how she stopped her paws from dashing after him, even though they were surrounded by cats from every Clan.
StarClan, help me! she begged. I don’t know what to do!
CHAPTER 16
“Daisy! Daisy, where are you?”
Squirrelflight stopped and looked around when she heard the furious yowl that came from the medicine cats’ den. A moment later Brightheart appeared, carrying one of Daisy’s kits by the scruff. The tiny creature was wailing miserably, his paws thrashing the air. His littermates crept out after them, heads down and tails drooping, and huddled together beside the brambles that shielded the den.
The horse place cat had been in camp long enough for her kits to grow stronger and more confident, and to begin exploring t
he camp. And that was likely to mean trouble; Squirrelflight’s whiskers twitched as she remembered some of the things she and Leafpool had got up to before they were apprenticed.
Brightheart dropped the kit she was carrying—it was Mousekit, Squirrelflight realised, taking a closer look. The ginger and white she-cat’s good eye was blazing with anger. “Daisy! Come here!”
There was no response from the nursery, but a heartbeat later Daisy appeared from the thorn tunnel and raced across the camp to confront Brightheart. Cloudtail followed her more slowly.
“What’s the matter? What are you doing to my kits?” Daisy demanded.
“Ask your kits what they’ve been doing in Cinderpelt’s den,” Brightheart retorted. “And stop making that noise,” she added to the kit she had dropped, who was still wailing, his tiny pink jaws gaping wide. “I haven’t hurt you.”
“What happened?” Daisy’s blue eyes were just as furious, and her long, creamy fur couldn’t hide the tension in her muscles. For a moment Squirrelflight thought she might fly at Brightheart with one of the fighting moves Cloudtail had been teaching her. Squirrelflight knew Brightheart could look after herself, but Daisy might not get away unscratched. She padded over in case some cat was needed to stop the fur flying.
“Your kits came into Cinderpelt’s den and started messing with the herbs,” Brightheart explained. “Did you eat anything?” she hissed, rounding on Berrykit and Hazelkit. “Any of you?”
Mute with terror, the kits shook their heads. Squirrelflight knew that part of Brightheart’s anger was fuelled by fear that the kits might have eaten something dangerous. Cinderpelt wouldn’t keep anything like deathberries among her supplies, but there were plenty of remedies that could give a cat a nasty bellyache if they ate too much.
Brightheart’s fur began to lie flat again, but annoyance still crackled off her like lightning in greenleaf. “Just go and look at the mess they’ve made,” she meowed to Daisy. “Why weren’t you keeping an eye on them?”
“She was with me,” Cloudtail meowed.
“And that makes it OK for her kits to spoil Cinderpelt’s supplies?” Brightheart challenged him.
“They didn’t know any better.”
“Then they should!” Brightheart snarled back at her mate. “Do you think we have nothing better to do than clean up after them? I spent all day yesterday collecting berries.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” Daisy mewed, glancing uneasily from Cloudtail to Brightheart and back again. She nudged Mousekit to his paws and collected the others with a sweep of her tail. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“You do that,” Brightheart snapped.
The horse place cat headed back to the nursery, herding her kits in front of her. Squirrelflight heard Mousekit complain, “That ugly cat frightened me!”
“Then you shouldn’t get into trouble,” Daisy replied.
Squirrelflight saw Brightheart flinch at what Mousekit said. She and Cloudtail were nose to nose, their tail-tips twitching back and forth.
“I’ll help clean up,” Squirrelflight offered, backing round the brambles. She didn’t want to get involved in a quarrel between Brightheart and her mate.
When she turned round she saw why Brightheart had been so angry. Berries were scattered all over the ground at the mouth of the den, and herbs lay in untidy clumps. Some of the leaves had been torn off their stems and were covered in dirt; they would probably have to be thrown out.
Squirrelflight began to roll the berries that could be salvaged into a pile. She wondered where Leafpool and Cinderpelt had gone. After a few moments she heard another cat padding up behind her.
“There you are!” meowed Ashfur, touching his nose to her shoulder. “I thought we were going hunting. Why are Cloudtail and Brightheart glaring at each other like a couple of badgers?”
Squirrelflight went on sorting berries as she explained.
“Clanborn kits would know not to do this sort of thing,” Ashfur commented. “Maybe these kittypets will never settle here properly.”
“What did you say?” Squirrelflight spun around to face him. “Have you forgotten that my father was a kittypet?”
Ashfur blinked. “I’m sorry. But Firestar’s pretty special. Most kittypets couldn’t live our sort of life. They need their Twolegs to look after them.”
Squirrelflight let out a furious hiss, and her claws slid out; it took a massive effort to shield them again and go on sorting berries. How dare Ashfur make judgments based on a cat’s birth? she fumed. Did that mean he thought less of her because she was half kittypet? Couldn’t he see that she and Leafpool, Cloudtail, and his kit Whitepaw were as important to the Clan as any warrior who was forestborn through and through?
Before Ashfur could say anything else, the bramble screen shook as Leafpool and Cinderpelt brushed past. Both medicine cats carried large bunches of chickweed.
“What’s going on here?” Cinderpelt asked, dropping her mouthful.
Squirrelflight explained what had happened for the second time, while Leafpool began examining the scattered leaves and piling up the ones that would have to be thrown out.
“Kits!” Cinderpelt grunted, nosing a muddy and crumpled stack of yarrow leaves. “Still, if they didn’t eat anything there’s no real harm done.”
“A lot of extra work, though,” Ashfur pointed out.
“We can manage,” Leafpool meowed sharply, and Squirrelflight glanced at her in surprise. “I’ll throw out these damaged herbs and go and collect some more.”
A bolt of strong emotion made Squirrelflight’s fur stand on end. She stared at her sister. Was that guilt Leafpool was feeling? Why should she feel guilty about collecting herbs? Even more mysteriously, mixed with the guilt there seemed to be a thrill of anticipation, and beneath it all a layer of piercing unhappiness.
Squirrelflight told herself her sister was just tired; the night before had been the half moon, when Leafpool and the other medicine cats paid their regular visit to the Moonpool. But deep down she knew Leafpool was suffering from more than the long journey and lack of sleep. Perhaps the medicine cats had received a sign from StarClan of trouble ahead. Yet Leafpool hadn’t been her normal self for some time. In fact, she’d been as jumpy as a grasshopper since the Gathering.
“I’ll help you,” Squirrelflight offered. “Ashfur, you’d better hunt without me. I’ll join you later if I can.”
Ashfur gave her a long look. “OK.” With a nod to Cinderpelt he left.
Squirrelflight opened her mouth to call him back, wishing she hadn’t spoken so sharply to him, but her need to talk to Leafpool was greater. Besides, perhaps it was best for them both to have some space after their quarrel.
“Which herbs do we need to throw out?” she asked her sister.
“These.” Leafpool pointed with her tail. “The rest are OK, I think.”
Squirrelflight divided the heap of bruised and dirty leaves into two bunches and picked up one of them. Cinderpelt had begun to carry the herbs and berries worth keeping back into her den. Leafpool picked up the remaining herbs and followed Squirrelflight out of the camp. They carried the leaves to the rough ground a few fox-lengths from the entrance where the cats went to make their dirt.
“It’s good to get out of there,” Squirrelflight remarked when she had finished spitting out scraps of sharp-tasting leaf. She wanted to tell Leafpool about Ashfur’s hurtful comments, but now she could see how tense and miserable Leafpool was, her quarrel didn’t seem important. “Is everything OK with you?” she asked.
“Why shouldn’t it be?” Leafpool scraped the ground in front of her and sniffed at an unfurling frond of bracken.
“When Cinderpelt suggested collecting more herbs, I just thought you seemed … well, weird, sort of.” A thought struck her and she added, “You’re not worried about Brightheart, are you? I mean, you’re Cinderpelt’s real apprentice. Brightheart is just helping out.”
Leafpool blinked. “No, of course I’m not worried about Brighthe
art. Look, Squirrelflight,” she went on, “we’d better split up if we’re going to collect herbs, otherwise it will take all day. I know Cinderpelt wants more catmint. Do you think you could fetch some from the abandoned Twoleg nest?”
Squirrelflight stared at her. It couldn’t be more obvious that Leafpool was trying to get rid of her. “Where are you going to go?”
“Oh … near the ShadowClan border, maybe.”
Another bolt of guilt and impatience flashed from her, making every hair on Squirrelflight’s pelt tingle. She was sure Leafpool was lying, and she clamped her teeth shut on a yowl of outrage. We never lie to each other!
“You know,” she mewed, trying to sound calm, “you are weird these days. It feels like something’s changed.”
She had meant the words as a joke, an attempt to recover the closeness to her sister that somehow seemed to have vanished. But instead of being amused, Leafpool flinched as if a bee had stung her. Her eyes narrowed.
“I’m going to collect herbs,” she meowed coldly. “I’m a medicine cat. You can’t expect to share every part of my life.” Turning her back on her sister, she stalked off into the undergrowth.
For a few heartbeats Squirrelflight was tempted to follow her, but if Leafpool found out she would be even more furious. But Squirrelflight couldn’t just ignore her sister’s unhappiness, not when they had always meant so much to each other. She would just have to keep her eyes open and wait for the chance to discover what was wrong.
The hooting of an owl woke Squirrelflight. Faint moonlight filtered through the branches of the warriors’ den, outlining the curled-up bodies of her Clanmates. The den was filled with the warmth of their breath.
Squirrelflight’s jaws gaped in a yawn, but she didn’t feel like going back to sleep. She was wide awake now and restless. Sliding out of her nest, being careful not to wake Ashfur, who was sleeping a tail-length away, she crept between the overhanging branches and into the clearing.
The moon, waning now to the thinnest crescent like a claw scratch in the indigo sky, shed just enough light to see the boundaries of the hollow. Clumps of bramble and fern cast dark shadows around the edges. Opposite her, beside the entrance to the thorn tunnel, Squirrelflight could just make out the pale pelt of Cloudtail, sitting on guard.