Thunder and Shadow

  The ShadowClan leader’s eyes were bleary with sleep. His fur was unkempt, and he stared listlessly at Puddleshine. “What do you want?”

  “I don’t know how to cure Wasptail and Oakfur,” Puddleshine confessed. “I’ve tried everything I know, but none of it works.”

  “I thought they had greencough,” Rowanstar grunted. “Give them catmint.”

  “Catmint isn’t working. It must be another illness. One I don’t know.” Puddleshine looked frantic.

  Rowanstar’s pelt prickled irritably along his spine. “You’re the medicine cat,” he growled. “Why are you asking me?”

  Violetpaw padded closer. “He thought you might have seen the illness before,” she told him. “He hoped you’d know what to do.”

  “Littlecloud took care of sickness.” Rowanstar blinked at her crossly.

  “Perhaps we should ask a more experienced medicine cat,” Violetpaw ventured. “Perhaps Leafpool could come and help again. I can go and fetch her now—”

  “No!” Rowanstar’s eyes flashed with anger. “We’re not asking ThunderClan for help.”

  “But she trained me!” Puddleshine argued. “You didn’t mind asking for help then.”

  “I had no choice,” Rowanstar growled.

  “We have no choice now,” Puddleshine pressed. “We can’t let Wasptail and Oakfur get sicker. Oakfur is old. I don’t know if he can survive much longer. And what if the sickness spreads? I have to know what to do.”

  “Try other herbs.” Rowanstar fluffed out his pelt against the hardening rain. He turned and slunk back into the shelter of his den.

  Puddleshine stared after him, eyes round. “I’ve tried everything I know,” he mewed thickly.

  “I could slip out of camp now and fetch Leafpool anyway,” Violetpaw mewed softly.

  “No.” Puddleshine shook his head. “Rowanstar would be angry.”

  “But you need help!”

  Puddleshine gazed at her wearily. “I’ll just keep giving them the herbs I’ve got and hope that they improve.” He wandered away, lost in thought. “Perhaps if I mix tansy, coltsfoot, and borage . . .”

  His voice trailed away as he neared his den.

  Violetpaw stared after him, wondering how to help. I’ll suggest to Dawnpelt that we spend the day gathering herbs.

  Dawnpelt agreed, and through the wet morning she and Violetpaw gathered bundles of tansy, coltsfoot, and borage. Puddleshine had shown them sprigs from the store in his den, and soon Violetpaw could trace the scent of them from several fox-lengths away.

  At sunhigh they headed back to camp, their jaws filled with herbs. Violetpaw felt dizzy from the heady fragrances as she padded through the entrance tunnel. She blinked through the rain. Scorchfur, Crowfrost, and Tawnypelt were gathered at the entrance to Rowanstar’s den, Tigerheart hurrying to join them. Violetpaw could tell by their rippling pelts that something was wrong.

  She glanced at Dawnpelt. Her mentor’s eyes flashed with worry. She must have seen them too. Together they raced across camp.

  Violetpaw dropped her bundle of herbs as Tawnypelt turned and stared at her, alarmed. “What’s happened?”

  “Rowanstar’s not well.” Tawnypelt’s eyes glittered with worry. She glanced at the mouse at her paws. “I took him some prey but he won’t wake up. He must be really sick.”

  Hoarse coughing sounded from inside the den.

  Scorchfur backed away. “He sounds like Wasptail and Oakfur did.”

  Crowfrost straightened, his gaze hardening. “Fetch Puddleshine,” he told Violetpaw.

  Violetpaw turned and raced for the medicine den. She burst in, gagging as the stench of sickness swept over her. Wasptail and Oakfur wheezed in their nests, their fur matted, their muzzles dripping.

  Puddleshine was dozing beside a pile of herbs. He jerked his head up and blinked at her. “I was just taking a nap,” he mumbled.

  Violetpaw stiffened with alarm. “Are you sick too?”

  Puddleshine scrambled to his paws. “No. Just tired.”

  “You’ve been working hard,” Violetpaw sympathized. “But we need you. Rowanstar is—” She stopped. Puddleshine was staring at her as though he hardly saw her. Stars seemed to sparkle in his faraway gaze. She tipped her head, anxious. Perhaps he was sick? “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Puddleshine blinked, his attention flashing to her. “I’m fine!” He pushed past her eagerly.

  She followed him into the clearing, surprise sparking through her fur. What was wrong with the medicine cat? Why was he acting so strangely?

  “Crowfrost!” Puddleshine slid to a halt in front of the deputy, his pelt glittering as rain caught in his fur. “I had a dream!” He sounded jubilant. “StarClan has finally shared dreams with me!”

  Crowfrost stared at the young tom, his ears flicking. “What was it?”

  “The sickness is called yellowcough. Runningnose came and led me to StarClan’s hunting grounds. He told me what to do.” Puddleshine spoke fast. “There’s an herb called lungwort. It grows on the moor. Its leaves will cure our Clanmates.”

  Crowfrost lifted his tail. “Did he show you what it looks like?”

  “Yes!” Puddleshine nodded excitedly.

  “Good.” Crowfrost glanced toward Rowanstar’s den. “Our leader is sick.”

  Puddleshine ducked inside, darting out a few moments later. He glanced around his Clanmates, his gaze clouded with worry. “Do any of you know what tansy looks like?”

  “I do.” Dawnpelt nodded toward the bundle of herbs at her paws. “And coltsfoot and borage.”

  “Of course!” Puddleshine mewed, as though only just remembering he’d shown her what they looked like earlier that morning. “Chew equal parts into a thick pulp and try to get Rowanstar to swallow it. It won’t cure him, but it will help his symptoms until I can get back with the lungwort.” Puddleshine turned toward the entrance.

  “Wait!” Crowfrost blinked through the rain at the medicine cat. “You’re needed here.”

  “I’m the only one who knows what lungwort looks like.” Puddleshine stared at the deputy.

  Crowfrost hesitated, then nodded toward Tigerheart. “Go with him. You too, Scorchfur.”

  Violetpaw stiffened in surprise as Crowfrost’s gaze flicked to her. “And you.”

  Joy fizzed in her paws. Crowfrost trusted her enough to send her on this important mission!

  Scorchfur frowned. “Tawnypelt should come instead of her.” He scowled at Violetpaw. “Tawnypelt can be trusted.”

  Crowfrost scowled. “So can Violetpaw!”

  Scorchfur grunted.

  “Hurry!” Puddleshine headed for the entrance. “We mustn’t waste time.”

  Crowfrost flicked his tail toward the medicine cat. “Go with him.”

  Violetpaw bounded across the wet clearing, Tigerheart at her tail. Scorchfur raced past her, kicking up mud as he passed, and ducked out of camp.

  As Violetpaw followed them, Tigerheart called from behind. “I’ll lead! I know the quickest route.” He pulled past Violetpaw, Scorchfur, and Puddleshine, heading for the ditches. As he reached each one, he leaped it in turn. Violetpaw raced behind, one eye on Puddleshine as she cleared the gashes in the forest floor. The medicine cat was nimble, making the jumps with ease. As the ground smoothed ahead, she glimpsed light. They were nearing the edge of the forest.

  Tigerheart broke from the trees first. Violetpaw followed, narrowing her eyes against the driving rain as she left the shelter of the pines. She dodged a bramble, her paws slithering on the wet grass as she hurried toward the lake.

  She could see the Twoleg halfbridge reaching into the water. Beyond it, a stretch of meadow led to the lower slopes of the moor.

  “Tigerheart!” A loud yowl sounded from behind the patrol.

  Violetpaw looked back. A ThunderClan cat was calling from the border. She could just make out the shape on the shore. Dovewing. Another cat was with her. She strained to see. Twigpaw! Her heart leaped. Did her sister know she’d left the rog
ues and returned to ShadowClan? Has she come here to see me? She thought, with a pang of guilt, about their last meeting, when she’d refused to help Twigpaw search for their mother. Had Twigpaw gone alone? Had she found her?

  Dovewing paced the scent line, staring eagerly at the ShadowClan patrol. Did they have news? Violetpaw turned to Tigerheart. The tabby tom was still charging toward the WindClan border. He couldn’t have heard Dovewing’s call. “Wait!” she yowled.

  Tigerheart pulled up and turned to stare at her. “What?”

  “Twigpaw and Dovewing!” She jerked her muzzle toward the ThunderClan cats.

  Scorchfur and Puddleshine stopped.

  “So what?” Scorchfur’s wet pelt bristled.

  Tigerheart seemed to be avoiding looking toward the ThunderClan cats. “We don’t have time. Let them wait until the next Gathering to chat.”

  Violetpaw itched with frustration. She wanted to speak with Twigpaw.

  Puddleshine whisked his tail. “We should warn them about the illness,” he mewed. “It spreads quickly. They should know.”

  Violetpaw’s heart leaped as the medicine cat bounded toward the ThunderClan border. Growling impatiently, Tigerheart raced after him.

  Scorchfur rolled his eyes. “Medicine cats have no sense.”

  Violetpaw hardly heard him. She chased after Tigerheart, wind streaming though her fur.

  “Warn Leafpool.” Puddleshine was already talking to Dovewing by the time she caught up. The young medicine cat’s eyes glowed with pride. “But tell her I know which herb cures it. Tell her I had a dream from StarClan!”

  Twigpaw stared at her paws, a tail-length behind Dovewing. Look at me! Desperately Violetpaw tried to catch her sister’s eye. Did you look for our mother? Twigpaw was acting as though Violetpaw wasn’t there. Was she still angry? Or perhaps she was ashamed she hadn’t found their mother. It’s okay. I knew there wasn’t much chance. I’m sorry I didn’t help you. She swallowed back the words, her paws hot with frustration.

  Dovewing was eyeing Tigerheart. “Thanks for sharing this with us. It was good of you to stop.”

  Tigerheart fluffed out his fur. “It was Puddleshine’s idea, not mine.”

  Dovewing returned his gaze coolly. “We thought it was strange to see a ShadowClan patrol heading toward WindClan territory. We thought something might be wrong.”

  “Well, there is, and now you know.” Tigerheart turned away brusquely.

  “Twigpaw?” Violetpaw twitched her ears hopefully, but Twigpaw carried on staring at her paws, her tail flicking restlessly. She clearly wasn’t going to talk.

  “Come on, Violetpaw!” Tigerheart’s urgent mew called her away.

  Violetpaw threw a last pleading glance at Twigpaw. “I’m sorry,” she murmured before turning to race after the others.

  Tigerheart and Puddleshine had already reached Scorchfur and were heading for the WindClan border. She glanced over her shoulder.

  Twigpaw was staring after her.

  Hope flickered in Violetpaw’s chest. If Twigpaw was watching her, she must care. We’ll talk soon! She hoped she’d be able to keep her silent promise; there was so much to talk about, but there was no time to worry about it now. Scorchfur had already leaped over the stream that cut between ShadowClan land and the moor. She pushed harder against the wet grass, closing the gap. Her lungs were burning as she caught up to the patrol.

  The grass felt coarser as brambles gave way to heather, which grew thicker and thicker as the slope steepened. Wind whipped the rain harder against Violetpaw’s pelt. She was relieved as the heather closed around them and she found herself chasing Scorchfur through a narrow gap, rough stems closing in on either side. The trail twisted one way, then the other. She breathed in the sweet scent of peat and a sour smell she didn’t recognize. She’d never been on the moor before.

  Suddenly the heather opened onto a wide stretch of grass. Gorse swayed on one side, and above she saw the top of the moor, arched like a spine against the glowering sky.

  Tigerheart slowed, Scorchfur beside him. Puddleshine eased his pace and glanced across the slope as though scanning for lungwort.

  “Can you see any?” Violetpaw pulled up beside him.

  “Hush!” Tigerheart’s hiss made her jump. The tabby tom had halted and was staring at a bank of heather ahead. It rocked in the wind. Violetpaw narrowed her eyes, suddenly wary. Tigerheart was tasting the air. “WindClan cats,” he warned.

  Scorchfur shifted beside her.

  Violetpaw blinked at Tigerheart. “They’ll understand why we came, won’t they?”

  “Of course they will.” As Puddleshine padded forward, his ears pricked eagerly, three WindClan warriors emerged from the heather.

  Violetpaw stiffened. Hostility shone in their eyes. The largest tom’s hackles were up. Puddleshine halted and glanced nervously at Tigerheart.

  “Don’t worry.” The ShadowClan tom stepped in front of the medicine cat and faced the WindClan patrol.

  “What are you doing here?” The dark gray tom flattened his ears threateningly.

  “Hi, Crowfeather.” Tigerheart stood his ground and mewed briskly. “We’ve come on an herb-gathering mission. It’s urgent.”

  A black tom with amber eyes padded closer, showing his teeth.

  “Wait, Breezepelt,” Crowfeather cautioned.

  “Wait for what?” hissed the third tom. His tabby fur was plastered to his lithe frame by the rain. “We should chase them off our land.”

  “Not yet, Leaftail.” Crowfeather padded closer and stopped a muzzle-length from Tigerheart. “First we’re going to take them to Onestar so they can explain themselves to him.” Spite glittered in his gaze.

  Tigerheart lifted his chin. “I’ll be happy to talk to Onestar. I’m sure he’ll understand why we came.”

  Crowfeather and Leaftail exchanged glances. Was that amusement in their eyes? Violetpaw suddenly felt cold.

  Puddleshine seemed unaware of the menace in the air. He blinked at the WindClan warriors. “Are we going to your camp?” His eyes lit up. “Good! I need to speak with Kestrelflight.”

  Crowfeather’s whiskers twitched. “I doubt you’ll be doing much talking,” he meowed darkly.

  Violetpaw’s belly tightened with foreboding as the WindClan warriors flanked them and began to guide them along the slopes. They crossed the moor until she saw a dip surrounded by gorse. Crowfeather led them to a gap in the thick green wall and ducked through it. Violetpaw followed Scorchfur and Tigerheart, Puddleshine at her tail.

  The tunnel opened onto a wide stretch of grass. Heather clustered at the edges, backed by thick gorse. Small, sleek cats slid from dens and stared at them as the patrol marched them across the clearing. Their eyes sparkled nervously. Violetpaw’s heart quickened. Tension hung in the air as though thunder was coming. She padded closer to Puddleshine, comforted by the touch of his flank against hers.

  Onestar was sitting on a wide, flat rock at the end of the clearing.

  His gaze sharpened as he saw them. He leaped onto the grass and stood motionless as they approached.

  Violetpaw blinked at him, her throat tightening. Was this how the rogues had felt when they’d first entered the ShadowClan camp? She doubted they’d been as scared. Rowanstar was stern, but his gaze had never been as icy as Onestar’s.

  Her fear intensified when the WindClan leader looked right at her, nostrils flaring. “What is she doing on my territory?”

  Crowfeather looked confused he stopped in front of Onestar. “Er—we caught them inside our border.”

  Fury flashed in Onestar’s eyes, turning ice into fire in a moment. He lashed his tail in her direction. “This one is a rogue. She lived among the same cats who killed Furzepelt!”

  Violetpaw stiffened with fear.

  The WindClan leader’s pelt spiked along his spine. “How dare you?” he hissed. “Get her off my territory before I take my revenge!”

  Tigerheart stepped backward, and Violetpaw saw the two warriors’ claws curl into the
grass as though preparing for a fight. She tried to back up as well, but hit a wall of tawny fur, thick with WindClan scent. Cats padded closer on every side. The gorse hemmed them in. Her paws trembled. They were trapped.

  “Hear me out. Violetpaw is a ShadowClan cat now. She poses no threat,” Tigerheart said in a steady voice.

  Onestar snarled. “Make it quick.”

  Tigerheart glanced at Puddleshine, whose gaze was frozen on Onestar. Violetpaw could smell his fear. Tigerheart said quickly, “Three of our Clanmates are ill with a sickness we’ve never seen before. StarClan sent Puddleshine a dream telling him which herb would cure it. They told him that he must gather it on the moor.”

  Onestar narrowed his eyes to slits. “I don’t care what StarClan told him. No ShadowClan cat crosses onto WindClan land.”

  Tigerheart’s tail twitched and Violetpaw guessed he was angry, but he replied calmly. “We mean no harm. But we can’t let our Clanmates die.”

  Onestar snorted. “And yet you shelter rogues who killed my Clanmate.” He glared again at Violetpaw.

  Scorchfur bristled. “Violetpaw is one of us! We’re not sheltering them!”

  Onestar thrust his muzzle close to the dark gray warrior. “Even if she is loyal to ShadowClan . . . you let the others live at the edge of your territory, despite the fact that they are murderers. Half your apprentices left to join them. It just proves what I’ve always thought: ShadowClan cats are no better than rogues. You will not gather herbs on my land.”

  Violetpaw could hardly believe the rage in the WindClan leader’s mew. What was wrong with him? Was he really going to let Clan cats die just because of the rogues? Weren’t leaders meant to be wise?

  She saw movement at the corner of her vision and saw Kestrelflight approach. “Surely Puddleshine can gather herbs?” The WindClan medicine cat blinked nervously at his leader. “The Clans have always allowed medicine cats to gather herbs when lives are at stake.”

  Onestar turned on him. “No!”

  “But our Clanmates need—”

  Onestar cut Kestrelflight off with a hiss. “They will gather no herbs here.” His malicious gaze flicked back to Tigerheart. “Get off my land.”

  Tigerheart returned his gaze without moving.