“A RiverClan elder is suffering from greencough,” Mudfur went on. “Mothwing needs catmint to cure him, but she can’t find any.” His eyes filled with anxiety. “Did I make a mistake when I chose Mothwing to be our medicine cat? The sign of the moth’s wing outside my den seemed so clear . . .” He hesitated, as if he was not sure how to go on. “Leafpool, I beg you to make sure that my Clan doesn’t suffer for my poor judgment.”
“Do you want me to take her some catmint?” Leafpool asked, remembering the thick clumps that grew near the abandoned Twoleg nest.
“No. There’s plenty of catmint just outside her own territory if Mothwing knew where to look,” Mudfur meowed. “She must go to the small Thunderpath at the edge of her territory, and follow it away from the lake until she comes to a row of Twoleg nests with gardens. Catmint grows there. Leafpool, will you tell her this?”
He opened his mouth and a thin mewling came out. Leafpool watched in alarm as the old medicine cat faded away, but she could still hear the mewling. Her eyes blinked open and she saw Berrykit thrashing in his nest. “It hurts! My tail hurts!” he wailed.
Leafpool rested a paw on his chest to calm him, and trickled more of the borage juice into his mouth. As she stroked his fur and purred soothingly into his ear, she remembered the anxiety in Mudfur’s eyes as he told her about the dreaded greencough.
The moon had vanished, and the first traces of dawn light were appearing in the sky; Leafpool could just make out the dark outlines of trees overhead.
“How can I go to RiverClan?” she murmured.
Firestar had given her permission to help RiverClan in the past, but this time she had a sick kit to consider. Berrykit might die if he weren’t cared for properly. Besides, not many days ago Leafpool had abandoned ThunderClan to go with Crowfeather—what would her Clanmates think if she disappeared again? Even if she told them she was going to help Mothwing, they wouldn’t sympathise with a show of loyalty towards a different Clan.
Mothwing will find the catmint on her own if she looks hard enough. At least tonight is the quarter moon, and I’ll be meeting her at the Moonpool. I can pass on Mudfur’s message then, without having to leave my Clan.
But as she went on watching over Berrykit, she couldn’t push her dream of the old medicine cat out of her mind. Was it part of her duty to carry out his request? She sighed. Why did it suddenly seem so complicated to be a medicine cat? Was her duty to ThunderClan alone, or to StarClan, and therefore all the cats that they watched over?
“I’m not sure I should go,” Leafpool meowed anxiously.
The sun was setting, sending blood-red shafts of light into the clearing. Leafpool stood outside her den, gazing down at Berrykit. He was sleeping more peacefully now, curled up in his nest. His fever was waning, but she still wasn’t convinced that his injuries were healing properly.
After her vigil Leafpool felt almost too exhausted for the long journey to the Moonpool. Besides, she shrank from the thought of seeing the other medicine cats and telling them that Cinderpelt was dead.
“You have to go,” Brightheart told her, flicking her on the shoulder with her tail. “Berrykit will be fine with me. I know what to give him if he wakes up.”
Leafpool knew that was true. Brightheart was an efficient helper, and she had all the herbs she would need. And there was Mudfur’s message to deliver to Mothwing.
“OK,” she meowed. “I’ll go. But I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Brightheart assured her.
After checking Berrykit one last time, Leafpool padded out into the clearing and headed for the thorn tunnel, saying good-night to Thornclaw, who was just settling down on guard duty. It felt strange to be going on this journey without Cinderpelt. She longed to feel Cinderpelt’s spirit beside her, but there was no trace of familiar scent, no brush of soft grey fur. Leafpool had never felt so alone.
The sun dipped below the horizon as she headed for the WindClan border and followed the stream up into the hills. The scents of greenleaf wreathed around her as the forest filled with shadows, and the dew was cool on her pads. Her weariness faded away as she thought about crouching down to lap the water of the starry pool and sharing dreams with StarClan. With the other medicine cats around her, and the warriors of StarClan to share tongues with, she wouldn’t feel so lonely.
Near the border of WindClan territory, she saw Barkface, the WindClan medicine cat, just ahead of her, and Littlecloud from ShadowClan. They must have scented her, because they stopped and waited while she scrambled up the last slope and fell in beside them.
“Greetings, Leafpool,” Barkface rumbled. “It’s good to see you again. I grieve for your loss. It’s sad that Cinderpelt had to go so young to join the ranks of StarClan.”
“What?” Littlecloud exclaimed, his neck fur rising. “Cinderpelt is dead?”
Leafpool knew that the ShadowClan medicine cat wouldn’t have heard the news yet. She nodded. “Badgers attacked our camp. Onestar brought WindClan to help us, but they were too late to save Cinderpelt.” I was too late.
Littlecloud bowed his head. “She was a great medicine cat. I owed her my life.”
Leafpool had heard the story of how Cinderpelt had disobeyed orders many moons ago to help Littlecloud and one of his Clanmates when sickness struck ShadowClan. Littlecloud always said that was what had made him choose to become a medicine cat.
She wondered if she should tell the others what really happened—that Cinderpelt died because Leafpool had turned her back on her Clanmates and all her medicine cat duties. Would they blame her for Cinderpelt’s death as much as she blamed herself?
Then she realised that there was nothing but sympathy in Barkface’s and Littlecloud’s eyes. There was no point in unburdening herself and only adding to their grief.
“You must miss her greatly,” Barkface murmured. “But you will be a worthy successor.”
“I hope so,” Leafpool replied tightly, her throat almost too choked to speak. “I’ll never forget her or everything she taught me.”
As they climbed further into the hills, her fellow medicine cats padded one on each side of her, sharing her grief and adding their strength to hers.
Leafpool would have liked to ask Barkface how Crowfeather was, but she knew she couldn’t. You have to stop thinking about him!
By now night had fallen. Leafpool halted at the top of a swell of moorland and looked back to see the quarter moon shining over the distant lake. There was no sign of Mothwing, and when she tasted the air she could not pick up her friend’s scent.
“Did you see Mothwing on the way?” she asked the others. Barkface shook his head.
“I haven’t seen her either, but then she never comes through ShadowClan,” Littlecloud meowed. “But don’t worry. She’s been late before.”
Leafpool knew that was true, but she also knew what was going on in RiverClan. She wondered if Mothwing had been unable to come because she couldn’t leave the elder who was ill with greencough. Perhaps the sickness had spread further, without a supply of catmint to treat the sick cats.
When Leafpool and the others reached the tumbling stream, there was still no sign of Mothwing. Leafpool bounded up beside the star-filled water and pushed her way through the bushes that surrounded the hollow, half hoping that her friend would already be there.
The waterfall poured down the wall of rock, a moving sheet of silver, churning the pool below so that it seemed full of leaping moonlight. But no familiar golden tabby shape rose to greet Leafpool; no friendly scent reached her. The hollow was empty.
Barkface led the way down the spiral path to the edge of the pool. Leafpool followed, feeling her paws slip into the marks left behind by generations of cats long gone. But this time she didn’t feel the peace that always surrounded her in this place. She was too worried about Mothwing and RiverClan, and afraid that if she met Mudfur in her dreams he would blame her for not passing on his message.
She could say nothing about it
to the other medicine cats. Instead, she crouched beside them on the edge of the pool and craned her neck to lap from the icy water. The cold seemed to flow into every part of her, gripping her limbs so that she felt like a cat made of ice. Her gaze was transfixed by the churning surface of the water; gradually it stilled, and Leafpool made out the reflections of countless cats, lining the hollow around her.
She looked up. Barkface and Littlecloud, one on each side of her, were motionless, far distant in their own dreams. Around the pool, and lining the sides of the hollow as far as the circle of bushes, were the glimmering shapes of the warriors of StarClan.
A blue-furred cat rose to her paws on a mossy rock jutting out over the water. Leafpool recognized Bluestar.
“Welcome,” meowed the former ThunderClan leader. “StarClan welcomes you as the new medicine cat of ThunderClan.”
A murmur of greeting rose from the starry ranks around the pool. Leafpool spotted Feathertail sitting beside a beautiful silver-furred she-cat who must be her mother, Silverstream. Closer to the water’s edge were Shrewpaw, Larchkit, and Hollykit, Ferncloud’s kits who had died in the famine in the old forest. Tallstar, the previous WindClan leader, sat nearby. Leafpool felt herself draw strength from their luminous eyes.
“Thank you,” she replied. “I’ll do my best to serve my Clan, I promise.”
On the opposite side of the pool she could see a group of former medicine cats: her own dear guardian, Spottedleaf, along with Yellowfang and Mudfur. A shadow seemed to hang over them, though above the hollow the moon floated in a cloudless sky. Mudfur’s gaze was fixed on his paws; Leafpool’s heart lurched as she wondered if he was deliberately avoiding her.
She peered into the shadow, desperate to see Cinderpelt. In spite of what Spottedleaf had said to her, Leafpool was still afraid that her former mentor blamed her for abandoning her Clan.
“Please, Cinderpelt . . .” she whispered. Turning to Bluestar, she asked, “Bluestar, where—?”
But the warriors of StarClan were already fading, the shimmer of their pelts growing dim until Leafpool could see the sides of the hollow through them. For a heartbeat they shone like a thin layer of ice on the rocks; then they were gone, and Leafpool was blinking awake on the edge of the pool.
She rose, stretching to ease her cold, cramped limbs. Beside her, Littlecloud sat up and started to wash his face with one paw, while Barkface gave his rumpled fur a quick grooming. Neither of them spoke of what they had seen in their dreams.
“When I was out yesterday, I found a good clump of water-mint, just above the stepping-stones,” Barkface told Leafpool as they climbed the path out of the hollow. “You might want to collect some—there’s plenty for both of us.”
“Thanks,” mewed Leafpool. “It’s the best herb there is for bellyache.”
“I spotted that ginger-and-white cat collecting marigold the other day,” Barkface went on, leading the way down the slope. “Brightheart, is it? She looked busy—too busy to notice me.”
“Yes, she’s been a huge help,” Leafpool admitted. “We’ve needed a lot of marigold to treat wounds after the badger attack.”
Littlecloud nodded. “Thank StarClan we haven’t seen the badgers in ShadowClan territory,” he mewed. “Is ThunderClan recovering? Do you need any help?”
Briefly Leafpool wondered what Blackstar, the ShadowClan leader, would have to say about Littlecloud’s offer of help to a rival Clan. It was just as well she could refuse with a clear conscience. “No, thanks, we’re fine,” she replied. “Our wounds are healing.”
Dawn was not yet streaking the sky above the hills, and Leafpool realised she had a chance to take Mudfur’s message to Mothwing. But if she was late returning to the hollow, what message would that send to her Clanmates? She had left them once before; they needed to see that now she was completely dedicated to them. Besides, the sooner she returned to check on Berrykit, the better.
Not only that, but to get to RiverClan she would have to travel through WindClan territory, and the risk of running into Crowfeather was too great.
Following the stream down into ThunderClan territory, she refused to even look sideways at WindClan’s moorland. That part of her life was over, never to be revisited. She was a medicine cat, with the power to walk among StarClan. There was a good reason why she could never be close to any other cat—she walked a different path and always would. If she could just concentrate hard enough on her duties, her feelings would die away, and Crowfeather would mean nothing more to her than any other warrior.
Chapter 10
As Brambleclaw walked away from the fresh-kill pile, he spotted Ashfur limping away from Leafpool’s den. Fresh cobwebs were plastered on the gash in his foreleg. He was heading for the warriors’ den, but before he reached it Birchpaw came bounding over to him.
“Hi, Ashfur!” he meowed. “Brackenfur is taking Whitepaw for a training session. Can we go with them?”
“No.” His mentor’s voice was an ill-tempered growl. “I fell off a rock and opened this wound again. Leafpool says I can’t leave the camp today.”
Birchpaw’s tail drooped; he turned his head to watch mournfully as Brackenfur and his apprentice, Whitepaw, left through the thorn tunnel.
Brambleclaw strolled over to Ashfur and Birchpaw and flicked the disappointed apprentice with his tail. “Cheer up.” To Ashfur he added, “I’m just leaving on patrol. I could take Birchpaw with me, if you like.”
Birchpaw’s tail shot straight up in the air again and his whiskers quivered with excitement. “Please, Ashfur!” he begged.
Ashfur opened his mouth; Brambleclaw was convinced he was about to refuse. Then a new voice spoke from behind Brambleclaw. “Good idea. Birchpaw missed a lot of training while he was hurt. He shouldn’t miss any more.”
Brambleclaw turned to see his Clan leader leaping down the rocks from the Highledge. “I thought we’d go up by the ShadowClan border,” he meowed. “We’ll renew the scent markers and check for fox traps.”
Firestar nodded, though Ashfur was staring at Brambleclaw through narrowed eyes. Without saying anything the grey warrior turned away and stalked off to the warriors’ den.
“Off you go, then,” Firestar meowed to Birchpaw. “Do as Brambleclaw tells you and watch out for those traps. You don’t want to lose your tail, like Berrykit.”
“I’ll be careful,” Birchpaw promised.
Brambleclaw stuck his head through the branches of the warriors’ den and called Sandstorm and Thornclaw to join the patrol. Ashfur, settling himself among the mossy bedding, ignored him.
The day was overcast, with a damp breeze that promised rain later. Prey-scent was muted, as if all the prey were hiding in their holes, and there was little sound except for the rustle of branches overhead.
Birchpaw was still trembling with excitement; Brambleclaw could see that he was struggling to control himself and pad along quietly beside the rest of the patrol.
“Why don’t you run ahead and see if you can spot the ShadowClan scent markers?” he suggested. “Come back and tell us when you find them.”
“OK, Brambleclaw!” Birchpaw’s eyes gleamed, and he bounded off with his tail straight up.
Brambleclaw suppressed a pang of anxiety at the sight of his fuzzy haunches, where the fur was just beginning to grow back. Birchpaw had been lucky to survive the badger attack. But he couldn’t be protected by his Clanmates forever. He had to learn the skills he needed to survive, and being out on patrol was a good way to put them into practice. “Be careful of fox traps!” he called after him.
“It’s time he ran the itch out of his paws,” Sandstorm commented when the apprentice had disappeared. “Between his injuries and Ashfur’s, he’s hardly been out of camp since the badger attack.”
“Maybe Firestar will let you take over his training until Ashfur’s fit again,” Thornclaw suggested.
“Maybe.” Brambleclaw nodded, trying to hide how much the idea pleased him. He was enjoying this taste of mentoring, and his paws ti
ngled with eagerness to have an apprentice of his own.
He still hoped Firestar would choose him to mentor Berrykit. He admired the kit’s brave, inquisitive nature, even though it had led to trouble. He was the biggest and strongest of Daisy’s litter, too, with the potential to be a fine warrior.
Leaping over the gnarled roots of an oak tree, Bramble claw spotted Birchpaw standing beside a bramble thicket a few tail-lengths ahead, his jaws open to draw in scent.
“I’ve found the scent markers, Brambleclaw,” he reported.
“What? You can’t have.” Hadn’t Ashfur given Birchpaw any training at all? “We’re nowhere near the ShadowClan border.”
Birchpaw looked hurt. “But I’m sure . . .” he began.
Sandstorm brushed through the ferns until she reached the spot where Birchpaw had stopped to taste the air. A moment later she came back, her green eyes gleaming with anger. “Birchpaw’s right,” she meowed. “ShadowClan have set their scent markers just beyond those brambles.”
Thornclaw let out a furious hiss. “That’s ThunderClan territory!”
Brambleclaw felt a growl rising in his throat. With his patrol behind him, he stalked across the clearing and skirted the brambles. The reek of the ShadowClan scent markers flooded over him after a couple of tail-lengths.
“Those are fresh,” he hissed. “If we follow them we should be able to catch up to the patrol and ask them what they think they’re playing at.” Whirling around, he added, “Birchpaw, run back to camp as fast as you can. Tell Firestar what’s going on, and fetch help.”
The apprentice took off, racing back along their trail with his belly close to the ground and his tail streaming out behind him.
Brambleclaw checked the scent markers to discover which way the ShadowClan patrol had gone, then bounded off in pursuit, with Sandstorm and Thornclaw a pace behind. The ShadowClan scent became stronger and stronger, until Brambleclaw reached the top of a gentle slope and spotted the patrol setting more markers in the hollow on the far side.