by Erin Hunter
“Well, why are you standing there?” Sorreltail asked. “Go and fetch us some more moss.” She gave Lionblaze an affectionate prod with her muzzle, softening her sharp tone. “Make sure it’s good and dry, and we’ll need all you can find.”
When Lionblaze and the others returned the second time, he spotted Sandstorm approaching at the head of a hunting patrol. Berrynose and Whitewing followed her; all three cats had their jaws stuffed with prey.
Sandstorm headed for a hollow tree trunk a few fox-lengths from the entrance to the Twoleg nest, among thick growths of fern and long grass. She dropped her fresh-kill just inside the opening. “I’m glad I found this,” she commented. “The prey will keep dry here.”
“And we can stay away from the sick cats,” Berrynose added as he dumped his own catch.
“Foxes might come and steal it,” Whitewing mewed, adding her fresh-kill to the growing pile. “Would it help if we scent-marked the opening?”
“Good idea,” Sandstorm replied. “And we’ll set markers around the edges of the old Twoleg garden. If the foxes think a lot of cats are around here, they might stay away.”
They won’t know the cats are too sick to fight, Lionblaze thought as he led his patrol inside the den with their bundles of moss.
By now the Twoleg nest was looking much more welcoming. Ashfur had finished dividing up the area into nests separated by branches. The first load of bedding was spread neatly in the nursery area. Brackenfur and Cinderheart were sniffing along the walls, pushing twigs and leaves into any cracks they had missed. Leafpool was there, too, checking for drafts in the nursery area.
“Over here!” she called to Brackenfur. “The wind’s cutting through me like a claw.”
Brackenfur bounded over with a bundle of dry leaves and shoved them into the gap the medicine cat had pointed out.
“Much better.” Leafpool waved her tail approvingly.
Sorreltail showed Lionblaze and the others where to put their moss. “That’s great!” she meowed, flexing her claws into the fresh bedding. “But we still need more.”
“I know.” Lionblaze twitched his whiskers. “We’re on our way.”
Leaving the den, he saw Jaypaw and Mousewhisker approaching from the direction of the camp with bundles of herbs in their jaws. They laid them on a flat stone near the entrance to the den, and Jaypaw separated them neatly into piles.
“Pity there’s no catmint,” he commented to Mousewhisker, loudly enough for Lionblaze to hear. “The sick cats would stand a much better chance if we had some.”
“What about the plants growing here?” Mousewhisker asked.
“I’ve checked,” Jaypaw replied, swinging his head around to glare at Lionblaze from sightless blue eyes. “They’re starting to grow again, but only a tiny bit.”
Guilt stabbed Lionblaze again, sharp as thorns, but he said nothing. He couldn’t explain to Jaypaw why he’d refused to go through the tunnels into WindClan territory. But what if cats die because of your dreams?
Unable to answer the question, Lionblaze raced off into the forest as if a horde of badgers were hard on his paws. But as he headed for the moss place, he knew that he would never outrun his guilt.
The sun was going down, filling the forest with red light barred with dark shadows, as Lionblaze and his patrol returned to the old Twoleg nest once more. He had lost count of how many loads of moss he and his Clanmates had gathered and brought to the nest.
Crossing the hard stone path, Lionblaze saw Leafpool standing in the entrance to the nest with Brambleclaw beside her. They broke off their conversation when they spotted the patrol.
“Well done,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Take that inside, and then you can stop. Everything’s ready.”
Lionblaze led his Clanmates up to the nest, noticing that there was now a well-stocked fresh-kill pile inside the hollow tree. Inside, the nest felt warm and safe, with cozy dens big enough for two or three cats to sleep, and a bigger area for the nursery, lined with the softest moss and feathers. Ferncloud was patting the clumps into place.
Sorreltail waved Lionblaze over to the last space, and spread out the moss and bracken he and the others were carrying.
“All done,” she declared, touching her nose to his. “Thanks, all of you.”
Looking around, Lionblaze saw that most of the healthy cats had gathered in the nest. Brackenfur and Cinderheart both had pelts snagged by thorns and brambles, but their eyes glowed with satisfaction. Poppyfrost was busily licking one of her pads, as if she had a thorn in it. Graystripe was flexing his claws in the moss; Lionblaze guessed he was impatient to get back to Millie. Berrynose had curled up for a snooze in one of the new nests; Hazeltail gave him a sharp prod with one paw.
“Get up, stupid furball!” she hissed. “These aren’t for us.”
“I’ve been working all day,” Berrynose grumbled, rising to his paws and giving his shoulder fur a quick lick to hide his embarrassment.
Leafpool appeared in the entrance, with Brambleclaw just behind her. “Everything’s ready,” she mewed. “We can go back to camp now. But no cat must go inside until our sick Clanmates come out. From now on, we have to stay away from them.”
“What?” Graystripe’s claws worked harder in the moss. “You mean we can’t help them?”
“Some of them are too weak to make the journey without us,” Brackenfur objected.
“The stronger ones will help the weaker,” Leafpool told him in a tone that warned every cat not to argue. “You know how fast the sickness spreads. We need to stay strong and healthy to provide for ourselves and the ones who are sick.”
“She’s right,” Brambleclaw added from where he stood at the medicine cat’s shoulder. “That’s why we’re doing this, remember?”
There were no more objections, but Lionblaze’s pelt prickled at the thought of sick Clanmates struggling along without help, and from the glances they exchanged he could see that most of the other cats felt the same.
Leafpool led the way back to the camp and vanished into the tunnel through the thorns. Brambleclaw waved his tail to set the rest of the Clan into position on either side, leaving a wide space between to let the sick cats through.
Lionblaze’s belly clenched in pity as they began to emerge: Firestar led the way, his head raised proudly even though he was shaken by a bout of coughing as he padded past. Cloudtail supported Thornclaw, while Dustpelt leaned on Brightheart’s shoulder. Hollow coughs came from the brown tabby; Lionblaze could see every one of his ribs, while his pelt was thin and dull. Ferncloud let out a piteous mew, instinctively starting forward; Birchfall raised his tail to bar her way.
Dustpelt turned his head, blinking eyes glazed with fever. “Keep back,” he meowed hoarsely. “I’ll be fine.”
Ferncloud looked away and buried her muzzle in Birchfall’s shoulder fur.
Daisy was the next cat to appear, carrying Rosekit, with Toadkit, Blossomkit, and Bumblekit behind her. The mischievous kits were unusually subdued, their gaze fixed on their paws as they padded quietly along.
“You can’t go with Rosekit,” Brambleclaw declared, stepping out to bar Daisy’s path. “You and the healthy kits have to stay in camp.”
“Nonsense!” Rosekit let out a feeble wail as Daisy set her down gently to confront the Clan deputy. “Who will feed Rosekit if I’m not there?”
“Rosekit can eat fresh-kill now,” Brambleclaw replied. “And Firestar will make sure she’s cared for. Do you want the other kits to get sick?”
For a couple of heartbeats Daisy stood glaring at him, then dropped her gaze and padded to one side, gathering the healthy kits to her with a sweep of her tail.
“I want to go with Rosekit!” Toadkit mewed fiercely.
“You can’t.” Daisy stooped to touch her remaining kit on the head with her nose. “You can help her best by keeping well and strong.”
Toadkit still looked rebellious, but he didn’t say any more. Honeyfern, emerging from the barrier, took in the situation at a glance and st
ood over Rosekit. “I promise I’ll look after her,” she told Daisy, who gave her a grateful nod.
Rosekit batted the air with her paws and went on wailing as her Clanmate carried her toward the Twoleg nest.
More movement in the tunnel signaled Millie’s approach. The gray she-cat was supported on either side by Leafpool and Jaypaw. Lionblaze caught his breath in horror when he saw her. Her paws barely moved; the medicine cats were all but carrying her. Her pelt clung to her ribs, and her sides heaved as she let out a rasping cough.
“No!” Graystripe yowled from just behind Lionblaze and Hollyleaf. He plunged forward; Lionblaze blocked him, and Hollyleaf sank her teeth into the loose fur on his shoulder. “Let me go!” Graystripe snarled as he struggled. “She’s dying! I have to go to her!”
Lionblaze braced himself; it went against everything he had learned to fight a Clanmate, but he knew that he couldn’t allow Graystripe to be near his sick mate.
“Keep back!” Leafpool ordered, raising her tail in warning.
Graystripe ignored her and kept struggling, lashing out a paw to rake his claws down Lionblaze’s shoulder.
“Stop!” Brambleclaw bounded up to help.
“Graystripe.” Firestar’s hoarse voice came from the head of the pitiful line of cats. The Clan leader had halted and turned to face his friend. “I know how you feel. But you must stay away from Millie.” His voice was full of sympathy; Lionblaze knew how deep the friendship was between the two cats. “Millie needs you to stay strong and healthy.”
Graystripe stopped struggling and took a long breath. “Firestar, my heart is clawed in pieces.”
“I know. But what you’re doing now doesn’t help. Graystripe, if Millie’s paws are truly set on the path to StarClan, then I’ll send for you to say good-bye. I promise you.”
Graystripe hesitated for a heartbeat, then bowed his head. “I’ll hold you to that, Firestar,” he choked out.
Lionblaze and Brambleclaw stood back, and Hollyleaf let go her grip on the gray warrior’s shoulder. Graystripe stood still, his head and tail drooping; Lionblaze was close enough to feel the shivers that were running through him.
Leafpool and Jaypaw moved on, with Millie supported between them. Her head hung; she didn’t seem to have heard her mate’s protests. Behind them came Longtail, guiding himself by the tip of Leafpool’s tail. Briarkit dangled limply from his jaws like a piece of fresh-kill.
Lionblaze tensed. Was the tiny kit dead? Then her tail twitched, and she let out an exhausted cough. Seeing she was still alive, Lionblaze relaxed, only to have his relief swallowed up in a wave of guilt. She needs catmint. They all do.
When the sick cats had gone, Brambleclaw led the rest of the Clan back into the stone hollow. Mousefur and Squirrelflight, the only cats remaining, were sitting together near the fresh-kill pile; Mousefur rose and padded to meet them as they returned.
“I should be with them,” she snapped at Brambleclaw. “I could help. I’m an elder; it doesn’t weaken the Clan if I get sick.”
Brambleclaw dipped his head. “That’s an offer worthy of a warrior,” he replied. “But the Clan values every cat, from the newest kit to the most senior elder.” His amber eyes glinted. “I know you already asked Firestar, and he said no. Don’t think you can get around me.”
“Pesky young cat…thinks he knows everything,” Mousefur muttered, turning her back.
Instead of going to their dens, the remains of the Clan huddled together in the center of the clearing, as if they were waiting for something. Lionblaze crouched beside his sister, his fur standing on end. The camp felt strange, as if it wasn’t their home anymore. The stench of sickness still hung around it, and an eerie quiet covered everything.
“I don’t like this,” Hollyleaf whispered. “I wonder how many of the sick cats will ever come back.”
Don’t. Lionblaze dug his claws hard into the ground. “It’s in the paws of StarClan,” he muttered, knowing how hypocritical he was being.
It seemed a long time, though the shadows had crept no more than a mouse-length across the hollow, before Leafpool and Jaypaw returned.
“Good, you’re all here,” Leafpool meowed, padding toward the gathering of cats. “Jaypaw, fetch me those strengthening herbs from our den.” As Jaypaw bounded off, she continued, “Every scrap of bedding has to be taken out of the dens and into the forest, and fresh bedding brought in.”
“What?” Icepaw, who had been grooming herself drowsily, raised her head. “I’ve been dragging moss around all day. Do we really have to get more? I’m worn out!”
“Every cat is worn out,” Spiderleg added. “Can’t it wait until morning?”
“Sure it can, if you want more cats to get sick,” Leafpool retorted. Her tone softened as she added, “Every cat will be helping this time. It won’t take long.”
Jaypaw came back with the herbs, dropping a few leaves in front of every cat. Lionblaze felt his aching limbs fill with warmth as he swallowed them.
“Let’s get going,” he mewed to Hollyleaf. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be done.”
All the warriors headed out of the camp to fetch fresh moss and bracken, while Icepaw, helped by Mousefur and Squirrelflight, cleared the old bedding out of the dens and carried it as far as the barrier to be disposed of outside. Leafpool and Jaypaw checked the dens to make sure not a scrap of it remained behind. By the time it was all gone, and fresh bedding installed, the taint of sickness that had hung about the camp for so long had almost vanished.
“This is better,” Hollyleaf murmured as she settled down inside the warriors’ den beside Lionblaze. “Except it’s strange with so many cats missing. I hope Firestar’s plan works.”
Lionblaze was already sliding into sleep, his eyes closed and his tail wrapped over his nose. He was too exhausted for his worries to keep him awake, but as he slid into darkness his mind filled with a vision of catmint: thick, lush clumps of it, growing among rocks on the edge of the moor, just as Jaypaw had described. He leaped forward to bite off the stems, only to halt, trembling, on the bank of a river.
The stream that marked the border with WindClan had swollen into a rushing scarlet torrent. The air was filled with the stench of blood, and the grasses on the edge of the river where Lionblaze stood were spattered with it.
He took a step back, horrified at the thought of blood sticking to his paws, and stiffened as he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Are you scared, little warrior?” Tigerstar taunted him. “Where’s this power of yours now?”
CHAPTER 14
Every muscle in Jaypaw’s body was yowling with exhaustion as he finished sniffing around the elders’ den to make sure that every scrap of the tainted bedding had been removed. He stumbled back into the clearing and padded up to Leafpool. “It’s okay,” he reported.
“Why don’t you get some rest?” his mentor meowed. “Brambleclaw and Cinderheart have just brought us some fresh moss.”
Jaypaw opened his jaws to protest that he could keep going as long as any cat, then thought better of it. His job and Leafpool’s was finished for now; there was no reason why he couldn’t catch up on his sleep. But tired as he was, his paws were itching and his mind whirling; he knew his thoughts would keep him awake.
“Thanks,” he replied, “but I’d like to go out for a while.”
“Fine.” Leafpool sounded faintly surprised. “Be careful, won’t you?”
“Sure.” Jaypaw wished she wouldn’t keep trying to mother him. He had Squirrelflight for that; Leafpool was just his mentor. He took off at a trot through the tunnel, where he passed Whitewing and Birchfall returning with bundles of bedding, and headed for the lake.
Pushing through the last of the undergrowth, Jaypaw paused at the top of the bank overlooking the water. He could hear the soothing lap of waves on the shore, and the faint scrape of pebbles. Scenting carefully, he made his way to the hollow under the tree roots where he had hidden the stick.
As he laid his paws
on the scratch marks, the whispers of the long-ago warriors rose up around him. He strained to hear them clearly, but just as before, they stayed out of his reach.
“Rock, don’t you have a message for me?” he meowed aloud.
His head spun with thoughts of everything that had happened: the mysterious appearance of Sol, and the fake sign that had become real and driven him from ShadowClan; the terrible sickness, and Firestar taking the sick cats away from the stone hollow…Jaypaw felt as if he were a leaf spinning in eddies of wind.
It’s all escaping from me, like prey running too fast. I’m supposed to have power, but I can’t control anything.
“Has it always been like this for the Clans?” he murmured. “Fighting one battle after another? And some battles no cat can win. I wonder if it was sickness that drove the first cats away from the lake?”
Yet again he ran his paws over the scratches, the record of the cats who had emerged victorious from their test in the tunnels, and of those who had never come out. The whispers wafted around him like faint puffs of breeze, but Jaypaw still couldn’t make out their meaning.
“What’s the use of you if I can’t hear you?” he protested. “Speak up a little, please. Tell me how to fight the sickness, or what I can say to Lionblaze to make him fetch the catmint.”
But the gentle whispering didn’t change. Sighing, Jaypaw lay down with his chin on the stick, and closed his eyes.
Damp soaking into his belly fur woke Jaypaw. His muscles felt stiff and cramped with cold as he raised his head and looked around. He was in the underground cave, lit by a trickle of daylight from the roof far above his head. The river flowed past him a couple of tail-lengths away.
Jaypaw staggered to his paws. He expected to see Rock, but the ledge where the ancient cat usually crouched was empty, and there was no sign of him anywhere in the cave.