Sunset

by Erin Hunter

  “Because my duty is to my Clan, not to you,” Mothwing replied calmly.

  Hawkfrost drew his lips back, baring his teeth. “This isn’t what we planned!” he snarled. “I didn’t help you become a medicine cat for this. What do you think would happen if your precious Clanmates knew the truth about you?”

  This time Mothwing did flinch, taking a pace back and turning her head away. Leafpool felt as if she had stepped into an icy torrent, a powerful rush of fear that could sweep her off her paws. How could Hawkfrost have helped Mothwing become a medicine cat? Mudfur had chosen her with the guidance of StarClan. What was “the truth” that could force Mothwing to lie for her brother?

  Suddenly Mothwing looked her brother squarely in the eyes. “Do what you want, Hawkfrost,” she meowed. “I’ve tried to be a good medicine cat and to serve my Clan as best I can, but I can’t go on lying. You were made deputy once before, when the Twolegs trapped Mistyfoot, and you’ll be made deputy again—if you don’t do anything stupid.” She paused and added more sharply, “If you tell the truth about me, you won’t look so good yourself, will you?”

  Hawkfrost raised his forepaw. Leafpool braced herself to rush out and help her friend, but then the tabby warrior spun round and stalked away. He looked exactly like his father, Tigerstar, had in Leafpool’s dream.

  Mothwing slumped down under the tree as if all her strength had been drained. Leafpool padded up to her and gently touched her shoulder with the tip of her tail. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wondered if she should reveal that she had overheard the quarrel. Leafpool was still trying to figure out exactly what she had learned from it. Hawkfrost obviously knew that his sister didn’t believe in StarClan. But Leafpool knew it too, and had long since forgiven her. Mothwing tried so hard to be a good medicine cat, even without StarClan to strengthen and guide her.

  “Mothwing, it’s me,” she began falteringly. “I’m so sorry that Heavystep died.”

  Mothwing looked up, her blue eyes pools of regret. “I searched and searched for catmint, but I couldn’t find any,” she mewed.

  Words of comfort choked in Leafpool’s throat. How can I be responsible for reading the signs for two different Clans?

  “Leafpool?” Mothwing asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “It’s my fault!” Leafpool blurted out. “Mudfur came to me in a dream and told me where you could find catmint. But I was caring for a sick kit, and I didn’t have time to come. Anyway, I didn’t know if you would believe me,” she added.

  “Oh, I would,” Mothwing replied quietly. “I would never doubt the strength of your faith.”

  Curiosity nagged at Leafpool, sharp as a thorn in her pad. “Then how do you explain my dreams, if you don’t believe they come from StarClan?”

  Mothwing paused to think. “Well, you could have known about the catmint anyway. Perhaps Brambleclaw or Squirrel -flight spotted it when they first explored around the lake. One of them could have told you, except you’ve forgotten that’s how you know.”

  Leafpool didn’t remember any conversations about cat-mint; besides, the first exploration of their new territory had taken place in leaf-bare, when not much was growing. “I don’t think so,” she murmured uncomfortably.

  “I’m sure you’re not lying,” Mothwing assured her. “Just that you remember stuff in dreams that you’ve forgotten when you’re awake. You believe in StarClan, so that’s how the memory appears to you.”

  Leafpool shook her head, confused. “Whatever. I’d better tell you where the catmint is, anyway. Go to—”

  “Mothwing!” Leopardstar’s voice came from the edge of the clearing. “Are you going to sit there gossiping all night?”

  “Coming!” Mothwing called, springing to her paws. “I must go. Leopardstar’s angry enough with me as it is.”

  “Follow the Thunderpath away from the lake!” Leafpool called after her friend as she headed towards the RiverClan leader.

  But Mothwing gave no sign that she had heard before vanishing into the darkness.

  Sighing, Leafpool got up and followed her, scrabbling her way through the ring of bushes until she emerged on the shore of the island. Cats were already making their way across the tree-bridge, slipping and scrambling in the darkness with a desperate need to get away from the disastrous Gathering. Others clustered around the torn-up roots, waiting for their turn to cross.

  Padding towards them, Leafpool couldn’t stop worrying about Mothwing. She hadn’t managed to ask her friend about the pebble dream, or the confrontation with Hawkfrost, or find out why he thought he was responsible for Mothwing becoming a medicine cat. Perhaps it was just as well, she thought. Mothwing might not have wanted to answer.

  Leafpool glanced around for her own Clanmates. Clouds still covered the moon, and when she first saw movement in the shadows she couldn’t tell which cat it was. Then a familiar scent flooded over her. She stopped dead. Crowfeather!

  Her paws urged her to flee, but the WindClan warrior had already spotted her. He stepped forward; his lean body was faintly outlined by starlight, his dark grey pelt turning him to another shadow.

  “Hi, Crowfeather,” Leafpool mewed awkwardly. “How are things in WindClan?”

  “Fine.” Crowfeather’s voice was curt.

  Leafpool doubted that was true. During the Gathering it had been obvious that some of his Clanmates still blamed him for leaving WindClan to be with her. “I’m sorry if you’re having problems . . .” she began.

  “Problems?” Crowfeather shrugged. “I told you, every-thing’s fine.”

  Being so close to him was making Leafpool’s heart pound. She couldn’t bear to see him so brittle and tense when she knew how much pain he must be hiding. “I never meant to hurt you,” she murmured.

  “We chose to be loyal to our own Clans.” Crowfeather’s voice was quiet and steady, but Leafpool could hear agony in every breath. “It’s better if we don’t see each other any more.”

  Leafpool knew he was right, but pain stabbed her more deeply than a badger’s fangs. Couldn’t they even be friends?

  Crowfeather held her gaze for a heartbeat longer, then walked away, down the shore to the few cats who still waited on this side of the tree-bridge.

  “Goodbye,” Leafpool whispered, but he didn’t look back.

  “But look at your poor tail!” Daisy wailed.

  Berrykit turned circles in his nest outside Leafpool’s den, trying to see the stump of his tail. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all. “I’m just like a warrior now!” he boasted. “Every warrior has wounds. It shows how brave they are.”

  Daisy flinched. “Can’t you do something?” she begged Leafpool.

  Leafpool suppressed a sigh. “Not even StarClan can grow back a tail,” she meowed.

  “Oh, I know, and I’m so grateful to you for everything you’ve done. I thought he would die for sure. I just wish that some cat could make him see that it wasn’t a clever thing to do, and he mustn’t ever, ever do it again.”

  “You know that already, don’t you, Berrykit?” Leafpool prompted.

  Berrykit stopped circling and sat up among the bracken, his eyes bright. Leafpool could hardly believe he was the same kit who had lain there wailing from pain and fever, not so many days before.

  “Well . . .” he mewed. “I know it was wrong, but camp’s so boring! I want to go and see the lake.”

  Daisy let out a squeal of terror. “You’ll drown if you go there!”

  “You must wait until you’re apprenticed,” Leafpool told him. “Then your mentor will take you all over the territory.”

  Berrykit gave an excited wriggle. “Can I be apprenticed now? Can Brambleclaw be my mentor?”

  Leafpool suppressed a mrrow of amusement. It was good to see that Berrykit’s terrible experience hadn’t dampened his spirit.

  “No, you’re too young,” she replied. “And Firestar decides who your mentor will be.”

  Berrykit looked disappointed, but soon brightened up again
. “Then can I go back to the nursery? I bet Hazelkit and Mousekit can’t think of any good games when I’m not there.”

  Daisy sighed. “You know, he’s right,” she meowed to Leafpool. “It’s been so peaceful, you can’t imagine!”

  “In another day or two,” Leafpool promised the kit. “You need to get a bit stronger first. Rest instead of bouncing around the whole time.”

  Berrykit immediately curled up among the ferns, managing to wrap his bit of tail over his nose. His eyes still gleamed, watching his mother and Leafpool.

  “Thank you so much, Leafpool,” Daisy meowed, rising to her paws. “ThunderClan is really lucky to have you as their medicine cat.”

  Saying goodbye to Leafpool and Berrykit, she left, passing Brightheart, who brushed past the bramble screen with a leafy bunch of catmint in her jaws.

  “There!” she exclaimed, after dropping the bundle near the entrance to Leafpool’s den. “Don’t you just love the smell of catmint?”

  Leafpool murmured agreement, even though the scent was making her belly lurch. She thought it would remind her for the rest of her life of the message she had failed to deliver to RiverClan, and the death of Heavystep.

  “Leafpool,” Brightheart began, “is it OK if I go back to warrior duties now? Only Ashfur still needs his wounds checked every day. There’s really not much for me to do here.”

  Leafpool looked at her in surprise. She had grown used to having the ginger-and-white she-cat’s help this past moon. It was hard to remember how much she had resented her when Cinderpelt was alive, and she realised that she wasn’t looking forward to being medicine cat all alone. But Brightheart was right—there was no reason to keep her from her regular duties any more.

  “Sure,” she replied. “I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done.”

  Brightheart dipped her head, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’ve enjoyed it,” she meowed. “I’ve learned a lot—from you as well as Cinderpelt. I’ll come back to help any time you need me.”

  “Thanks, Brightheart.”

  Leafpool watched her friend vanish round the brambles, then turned and picked up the catmint to take it into her den. Her supplies of herbs and berries were looking untidy; she began to sort through them, making sure everything was in its proper place.

  She noticed that some of her juniper berries were shrivelled and started to examine them to pick out those that could still be used. A pang of grief shook her as she remembered Cinderpelt doing the same, showing Leafpool which berries were too old and could be discarded. Now she couldn’t even pick up Cinderpelt’s scent in her den; the air was too thick with the scents of herbs, moss, and stone. It was as though her mentor had never been, as though individual medicine cats didn’t matter, only the skills that were passed down the generations.

  If that’s true, then what I feel doesn’t matter either, Leafpool told herself firmly. I will serve my Clan as best I can.

  It might be time to think about training an apprentice of her own; perhaps one of Sorreltail’s kits, when they were old enough. She hoped she would find a cat as good as RiverClan’s Willowpaw. Leafpool remembered how helpful the new apprentice had been when many RiverClan cats got sick from the Twoleg poison. Are StarClan pleased with Moth-wing’s choice of apprentice? Leafpool wondered. Surely they must be. But how could Mothwing teach Willowpaw to be a proper medicine cat, when she didn’t believe in StarClan? How could she show her apprentice how to interpret signs and dreams from StarClan, when she never received any herself?

  Thinking of Mothwing reminded Leafpool of the golden cat’s bitter quarrel with her brother at the end of the Gathering the night before. What was going on between them?

  Just then, she heard an excited squeal behind her. She turned to see Hazelkit and Mousekit frisking around outside the den, and opened her mouth to warn them not to disturb Berrykit, who was sleeping quietly now. Before she could speak, a butterfly fluttered into the den, high above her head, and the two kits came leaping after it. They scrambled past Leafpool, scattering the carefully sorted juniper berries, and letting out little joyful mews as the butterfly flew just out of reach of their paws.

  “Hey!” Leafpool exclaimed. “Watch where you’re going.”

  The two kits took no notice, chasing the butterfly out into the open air again. Sighing, Leafpool padded after them, checked that they hadn’t disturbed Berrykit, then poked her head out from behind the brambles to make sure that they weren’t getting into more trouble. She was just in time to spot Hazelkit and Mousekit pursuing their prey behind some thornbushes that grew close to the rock wall.

  “Kits!” she muttered. They were likely to get stuck in there, or even try climbing the wall. She set off after them, hearing a yowl of triumph as she whisked round the bristling thorn branches.

  Inside the thicket, the two kits were looking down at the butterfly, lying dead on the ground with one bright speckled wing torn off.

  Hazelkit looked up as Leafpool appeared. “I got it,” she boasted. “I’m going to be the best hunter ever!”

  Leafpool felt her pelt prickle as she gazed down at the butterfly’s torn wing. Somehow the sight was familiar, though she couldn’t recall ever looking closely at a dead butterfly before.

  Before she found an answer, Mousekit interrupted her thoughts. “The tortoiseshell cat showed the butterfly to us. She told us we could chase it.”

  Leafpool was puzzled. “Do you mean Sorreltail?” Her friend was the only tortoiseshell cat in the Clan just now, and she was still in the nursery with her kits.

  “No, another tortoiseshell cat.” Hazelkit sounded a bit scornful, as if she thought Leafpool was being mousebrained. “She called us out of the nursery. I’ve never seen her before, but she smelled like ThunderClan.”

  “And she knew our names,” Mousekit added.

  The prickling in Leafpool’s pelt swept over her again, much stronger than before. “Where is she now?” she asked carefully.

  Mousekit shrugged. “I dunno. Gone.”

  Losing interest, the two kits scampered back into the clearing. Leafpool stayed where she was, staring down at the torn butterfly. There was only one tortoiseshell cat who could have visited the kits like that and vanished with no other cat seeing her. She must have sent them after the butterfly for a reason, but what was it? Spottedleaf, what are you trying to tell me? Leafpool patted the remains with one paw, snagging her claw on the torn wing. A butterfly’s wing . . . a moth’s wing . . . Mothwing!

  Standing frozen with her eyes wide open, Leafpool saw a scene unfold in her mind: Hawkfrost with a moth’s wing pierced on one claw, slipping through the shadows in the old RiverClan camp and carefully laying it outside Mudfur’s den. Leafpool shivered. RiverClan had accepted the old medicine cat’s choice of Mothwing to be his apprentice because he found a moth’s wing at the entrance to his den. He had taken it to be a sign that StarClan approved his choice . . . but had Hawkfrost put it there on purpose?

  Leafpool was sure Mothwing hadn’t known the sign was false until much later; she could still remember the wonder in her friend’s eyes when she first spoke about the moth’s wing. She must have been devastated when Hawkfrost told her, but her commitment to serving her Clan as a medicine cat would have forced her to keep the secret.

  Leafpool shook the butterfly’s wing from her claw. She wanted to believe that she was wrong, that no cat would do such a dreadful thing, not even Hawkfrost. But she couldn’t deny what Spottedleaf seemed to be telling her; it explained too much that had been hidden in shadows until now.

  At the Gathering, Hawkfrost had threatened Mothwing with revealing a secret, and he had said that he helped her become her Clan’s medicine cat. He was obviously holding the secret over her, forcing her to invent messages from StarClan to help him gain power in RiverClan.

  Leafpool had always doubted whether Hawkfrost was trustworthy, but there was no room for doubt now. Her claws scored the ground in front of her; she wished she could sink them into Hawkfrost’s fur. B
ut fighting him would solve nothing. Leafpool considered challenging him at a Gathering, but that wouldn’t work either. After all, she had no proof. And accusing him would mean denouncing Mothwing, too. If RiverClan knew the moth’s wing sign had been false all along, would they let her continue as their medicine cat?

  Spottedleaf, show me what to do. You must have told me this for a reason.

  Then she remembered Willowpaw. The young apprentice must believe in StarClan, like all Clanborn cats. Perhaps she would be able to take over those parts of Mothwing’s duties that involved StarClan. If Mothwing knew that, it might give her courage to stand up to her cruel brother. Willowpaw couldn’t solve the problem altogether, but she might help.

  But how can I show her? Leafpool asked herself. She’s Moth wing’s apprentice, not mine. How can Willowpaw learn about StarClan when her mentor doesn’t believe in them?

  Chapter 13

  Ferns brushed Brambleclaw’s pelt as he raced through the forest of shadows towards his meeting with Tigerstar. Strength flowed through him now that his shoulder was fully healed, and his paws itched to show off his fighting skills to his father and Hawkfrost. He was sure Tigerstar would be pleased by what he had to tell.

  Reaching the clearing, he came to an abrupt halt in the shadow of a thorn tree. His father was sitting on the rock in the centre, his head bent to speak to a slender tortoiseshell warrior.

  Tawnypelt! What’s she doing here?

  Curiosity sank its claws into his heart. With his belly fur brushing the ground, he crept round the clearing until he could get closer to the rock in the shelter of a clump of long grass. With his ears pricked, he could just make out the other cats’ voices.

  “I’ve told you before,” Tawnypelt snapped. “I don’t want any part of your ambitions. I have my own plans.”

  Brambleclaw tensed. No cat spoke like that to Tigerstar!

  But the massive tabby didn’t seem angry. His tone was pleased as he replied, “You have my spirit, Tawnypelt, and you’re a brave warrior. But there are times when spirit becomes foolishness. Don’t throw away what I can offer you. I can make you a leader.”