by Erin Hunter
Oakkit unsheathed his claws. “Go and steal someone else’s herbs!”
The tom’s gaze narrowed. “How dare you?” His ears flattened.
Stormkit felt sick.
“He’s going to kill us!” Oakkit croaked.
“Run!” Stormkit turned and scrambled through the mallow. He skidded to a halt on the first stone, then leaped again.
Oakkit landed beside him. “Help!” he wailed as his hind paws slipped off the stone. Stormkit grabbed his brother’s scruff before Oakkit could slide into the swirling river.
“Thanks!” Oakkit regained his balance and jumped for the next stone. The tom yowled behind them. Stormkit hurtled after his brother.
“You don’t get away from Goosefeather that easily!” the old cat snarled. Stormkit felt hot breath on his heels and jagged claws spiked his tail. Unbalanced, he leaped for the final stone. His paws hit water as he plunged into the river.
StarClan help me!
Pain shot though his face as he collided with the base of the rock. Cold water engulfed him and the world turned black. Churning his paws, Stormkit flailed for the surface but he had no idea which way up was. Gravel grazed his belly, then his spine, as the river tumbled him downstream like a leaf.
Water stung his eyes as he opened them, searching for sunlight. Shadowy shapes raced past him. He struggled against the current, trying to swim, but another submerged rock slammed against his side, knocking the last of his breath from him. His chest heaved as he fought not to suck in water. Then he saw a shape moving steadily toward him. A she-cat. Orange and white, he could just make her out in the gloom.
Had StarClan come to claim him? Terror clawed Stormkit’s belly and he fought harder, praying for air, for the surface, for something to grab on to that would stop him being washed into StarClan’s hunting grounds. He couldn’t die yet!
The orange-and-white cat swam closer.
Go away! I don’t want to come with you! The words screamed in Stormkit’s mind.
“Don’t worry, little one.” He heard the cat’s words as though she were whispering in his ear, even though she was still a tail-length away. “It’s not your time yet. You have a great destiny ahead of you.” Her amber eyes shone in the green water and then she was gone.
Teeth gripped Stormkit’s scruff. With a jerk, he was above the rushing water, dangling from the jaws of Mudfur. The brown warrior turned against the current and swam for shore. Stormkit gulped air, coughing and trembling, suddenly aware of an agonizing pain in his cheek.
Mudfur scrambled from the river and bounded up the bank.
“Is he okay?” Oakkit yowled.
Stormkit could hear his brother but he couldn’t open his eyes because his whole face felt as if it were on fire. He felt liquid bubbling at his lips and tasted blood. He started to shake. What’s wrong with me?
Mudfur didn’t speak or put him down, just headed along the path toward camp with Stormkit swinging limply beneath his chin.
“What’s wrong with him?”
The sound of fear in Oakkit’s voice frightened Stormkit more. Each jolt as Mudfur’s paws hit the ground shot through his face like lightning. Stormkit tried to open his eyes. Grass, sedge, and willow herb streamed past in a blur. He could hear his own breathing. He was terribly cold and his paws felt numb.
It’s not your time yet. It’s not your time yet. He clung to the orange-and-white cat’s words, repeating them as though praying to StarClan. He smelled the warm scent of Brambleberry as Mudfur ducked through the sedge tunnel into camp.
“Where did you find him?” Rainflower’s shrill mew cut through the anxious murmur that greeted them. “Oakkit? Oakkit!”
“I’m here.”
“What happened?”
“Stormkit fell and hit a stepping-stone.”
Brambleberry’s mew sounded calm among the others. “Take him to my den, Mudfur.”
Past the haze of pelts and worried eyes. Past the deep olive sedge and into the green calm of Brambleberry’s den. It was a wide space, almost a clearing, thickly walled by sedge with a nest hollowed out at one side where Brambleberry slept. Stormkit smelled his mother close by, her scent edged with fear.
Rainflower moved around him, pushing past Brambleberry, nudging Mudfur as the brown tom laid Stormkit gently down. “What has he done to himself?”
“Let me see.” Brambleberry nosed the queen away.
Stormkit tried to focus on the white medicine cat, but the black spots that dotted her fur swam before his eyes.
“His face! His handsome face!” Rainflower’s wail sent a new wave of terror through him.
Mudfur’s pelt brushed Stormkit’s flank as he huddled facedown on the smooth earth floor. “Come on, Rainflower. You need to check on Oakkit. He’s pretty shaken up.”
As the warrior steered Rainflower from the den, Brambleberry leaned closer to Stormkit. “Don’t worry, little one. I’ll take care of you.”
Stormkit lay numb and trembling as Brambleberry disappeared for a moment. When she returned she was carrying something that had a strong, sour tang.
“I’m going to squeeze juice into the side of your mouth,” she told him. “It’ll taste bad and it’ll hurt to swallow, but you must take it.” Her mew was firm. “It’ll help you feel better.”
Stormkit tried to speak but his mouth felt thick and strange, and another jolt of pain made him cry out.
“This has willow bark, thyme, and poppy extract in it,” Brambleberry went on, her voice low and soft.
Stormkit felt wetness at the side of his mouth and then a stream of liquid trickled in. He forced himself to swallow in spite of the agony.
“Good kit.” Brambleberry stroked his flank with her tail. “Have a long sleep and when you wake up you’ll feel a lot better than you do now.” As she talked, the medicine cat pulled moss around him until he felt warm and cozy. Her words drifted into a low murmur until the green clearing and the sharp scents of herbs faded into darkness.
Chapter 4
Stormkit blinked at his mother. “Are you leaving already?”
“I’ve got to,” Rainflower meowed, glancing up at the sky.
Why won’t she look at me?
“There’s a lot of hunting to do now the fish are back,” she went on.
Oakkit rested his paws on the edge of Stormkit’s nest. “I’ll stay,” he promised.
Stormkit tried to catch Rainflower’s eye. “I wanted to tell you about the moth I caught last night.”
Confined to the medicine den for a moon, he’d had little chance to hunt. It’d been pure luck the moth had flitted into Brambleberry’s den; he’d snatched it out of the air with a single paw.
Oakkit shuffled closer. “You can tell me about the moth.”
“It was huge.” Stormkit leaned toward his mother, but Rainflower was already halfway to the entrance.
“I promised Rippleclaw I’d join his patrol,” she called.
“Rainflower!” Brambleberry backed out of the small hollow in the sedge wall where she stored her herbs. Strange green scents clung to her fur, and there were fragments of leaf on her muzzle where she’d been sorting through her supplies.
Rainflower halted. “Yes?”
“Stormkit can go back to the nursery today,” Brambleberry told her.
“Really?” Oakkit tumbled into Stormkit’s nest and started pummeling him playfully with his hind paws. “That’s great! Come on, lazybones!”
“So he’s better?” Rainflower’s eyes darkened. She glanced at Stormkit. “You can’t do any more for him?”
Oakkit froze, mid-pummel.
“He’s got all his ears and whiskers.” Stormkit heard sharpness in the medicine cat’s mew. “He can play and practice hunting like any other kit. What more do you want?”
Rainflower turned away and ducked through the entrance. “Fine. Send him back to the nursery then,” she called as the tip of her tail disappeared.
Stormkit tilted his head on one side. “Is Rainflower okay?”
Brambleberry flexed her claws. “Tired,” she echoed drily.
Oakkit flicked Stormkit’s ear with his tail. “Come on!” He leaped out of the soft moss nest. “You’ve been lying around too long. We need to get you fit. We’ll be apprentices in less than two moons.”
“I’m afraid not.” Brambleberry crossed the den.
Stormkit’s heart lurched. “What do you mean?”
Her blue gaze was clear. “You’ll have to wait a while
to become a ’paw, little one.”
Stormkit leaped out of his nest. “Why?” His paws trembled beneath him.
“You broke your jaw,” Brambleberry reminded him.
“But it’s healed,” Stormkit told her. He opened and closed his mouth to show her. It still felt stiff and lopsided, and it ached if he lay on it during the night, but he knew the bones had mended because the pain wasn’t so sharp it made him feel sick.
“You hardly ate for a half-moon, and even now you find it hard.” Brambleberry’s gaze flicked along Stormkit’s flank. “You need to fill out a bit before you start your apprentice training.”
“It’ll be okay,” Oakkit mewed. “I bet you catch up to me even if you start your training late.” He nudged Stormkit with his shoulder.
Stormkit almost fell over. When did Oakkit grow so much? He was strong and weighty, more like a ’paw than a kit. Stormkit felt tiny beside him, with hollow flanks and thin legs. He sat down. Was this going to stop him from becoming a warrior? What about Clan leader? Could he still be Clan leader if he was apprenticed late?
Brambleberry touched his head with her muzzle. “Oakkit’s right,” she murmured. “You’ll grow in no time. Just eat well and get some exercise. StarClan is watching over you. There’s no reason why you won’t be as big as Shellheart by next newleaf.”
StarClan’s watching over me. Stormkit dug his claws into the soft ground. “I’m going to get big and strong and be the best apprentice ever.”
Oakkit flicked his tail toward the tunnel. “Come on! Everyone wants to see you.” He bounded away and Stormkit followed, suddenly excited to be out in the camp again.
“Thanks, Brambleberry,” he called over his shoulder.
“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” Brambleberry promised. “Make sure you eat well and rest whenever you get tired.”
Stormkit burst out into the clearing, dazzled by the sunshine and surprised by the heat. The river chattered beyond the reed bed and wind swished the rushes. New warrior dens had been woven around the fallen tree. The apprentices’ den had grown a warm coating of moss, and the nursery, tucked away in the sedge wall, looked as cozy as ever. Hailstar’s den had been rebuilt, its willow stems bright and freshly woven among the roots of the ancient willow. Beetlekit, Volekit, and Petalkit were chasing a ball of moss in the clearing. Mudfur was lying in the shade with Cedarpelt. Shellheart was sharing fresh-kill with Hailstar, Tanglewhisker, and Birdsong at the top of the slope while Softpaw hauled stale moss from their den.
“Are you almost finished, Softpaw?” Fallowtail, her mentor, was calling from the camp entrance. “I want to teach you a new battle move.”
“Won’t be long,” Softpaw answered.
Stormkit breathed deep and smelled the mouthwatering tang of newly caught fish. “Are you hungry?” he asked Oakkit.
“I ate when the dawn patrol got back, but there’s fresh-kill left if you want some.” He flicked his tail toward the pile of fat trout lying beside the reed bed. “Let me get you one.” Oakkit raced away.
“Stormkit!” Mudfur’s rumbling mew sounded across the clearing. The warrior clambered to his paws and padded across the clearing. “It’s good to see you up and about.”
Volekit caught the moss ball Petalkit had just tossed and turned to stare at them. “Stormkit!” He left the ball and came charging across the clearing, Beetlekit and Petalkit on his tail. They dived around Mudfur, nearly tripping over the brown tom’s feet, before skidding to a halt in front of Stormkit.
Volekit gasped. “H-how are you?”
Petalkit pushed past her brother. “We kept begging to visit you but Rainflower wouldn’t let us.” Her eyes glittered. “Would she, Mudfur?” She looked up anxiously at the brown warrior.
Why does she sound weird?
Mudfur sat down behind the kits. “She was worried you were too sick.”
Stormkit frowned. He’d begged Rainflower for visitors. Had he really been too sick to see anyone? He’d been in pain, but after half a moon he’d been as bored and frustrated as a turtle up a tree.
Beetlekit was staring at him. “You look funny.”
“Hush, Beetlekit.” Echomist came trotting across the clearing. “He looks very well considering what he’s been through.” She licked Stormkit between the ears. “I’m so pleased you’re out of the medicine den,” she purred. “The nursery’s been quiet without you.” She glanced at Volekit. “Well, almost quiet.”
Volekit swallowed. “We’ve—er—made a training corner in the nursery.” He looked away. “You’ll love it. We’ve got bulrushes and moss to help us practice.”
“He can see it later.” Echomist silenced her kit. “Right now he needs sunshine and food.” She glanced at Stormkit. “And plenty of it.”
Even Echomist sounded strange.
Stormkit frowned. “Oakkit’s getting me some fresh-kill,” he told her.
“Stormkit!” Birdsong’s mew sounded from the top of the bank.
“Is that Stormkit out of the medicine den?” Tanglewhisker appeared beside Birdsong, whose tail curled over her back.
Stormkit looked past them to see his father but Shellheart was already on his paws and bounding down the slope. “Stormkit!” He nudged Stormkit’s cheek with his muzzle as though he hadn’t seen his kit in moons.
Stormkit wriggled away. “You just saw me yesterday!”
“It’s just good to see you out of the medicine den at last! You have lots to catch up on. I’ve been giving Oakkit some training to get him ready for his apprenticeship. You need to get to the same level as fast as you can.”
Stormkit purred. He glanced across the clearing wondering if Oakkit had found him a fish yet. His belly was growling.
He stiffened.
Rippleclaw was staring at him from underneath the ancient willow. The silver-and-black warrior looked away as Stormkit caught his gaze.
The whole Clan was acting odd.
Confused, Stormkit turned back to the friendly faces crowding around him. Everyone was making a fuss, saying how pleased they were to see him, how much they’d missed him, but there was something peculiar about the way they were looking at him. Because they weren’t actually looking at him. Stormkit realized with a jolt that, despite the purrs and kind words, none of them was looking directly at his face. A cold chill ran through him.
He shouldered his way past Echomist and Mudfur and headed for the reed bed.
“Stormkit?” Oakkit dropped the fish he was carrying as Stormkit dashed past him.
Stormkit stopped at the shore, by a patch of clear water, and stared down.
“Stormkit!”
He hardly heard Oakkit’s mew. He was staring at the strange cat reflected in the water. That wasn’t his face! This cat’s jaw was twisted from just below his ear, hardly visible beneath one cheek, sunken horribly beneath the top lip. His nose was stretched sideways and up, and his tongue poked out at one side, lolling between his teeth like a fat pink worm.
“What happened to me?” he whispered.
Oakkit pressed close to him. “You’re lucky to be alive, that’s what,” he mewed fiercely. He stroked Stormkit’s spine with his tail. “Brambleberry thought you’d die of shock and then infection. She fought really hard to keep you alive. And Shellheart sat with you night after night.”
“What about Rainflower?” Was this why his mother had hardly visited him? Because he was so horrible to look at?
“Rainflower was up
set,” Oakkit told him.
Stormkit felt a flood of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“What for?”
“That I hurt Rainflower so much.”
“Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault.” Oakkit’s voice sounded as if it was stuck in his throat. “Come on.” He sat up and nudged Stormkit away from the water’s edge with his nose. “We’re supposed to be fattening you up!”
Stormkit let his brother guide him toward the fish he’d dropped. He felt weak.
“Eat,” Oakkit ordered, stopping beside the fish.
Stormkit crouched down and took a mouthful. He could hardly taste it. All he could think about was how strange it felt when his tongue kept trying to slide out of the side of his mouth. How oddly he had to move his jaws to chew. In the medicine den, it had seemed normal. It’s just part of your recovery, Brambleberry had told him as he clumsily munched the fish she’d brought him. But he was better now. Back among his Clanmates. Why was eating still so difficult? He must look weird, trying to keep the food from dribbling from the twisted side of his mouth. He glanced up, wondering who was watching.
“I can’t do it,” he whispered.
“Yes, you can.” Oakkit picked up the fish and carried it to a shadowy spot behind a jutting branch of the fallen tree. “Come over here.” He beckoned to Stormkit with his tail. “It’s quiet. You can eat in peace.” Oakkit pushed the fish toward Stormkit and padded back to the clearing.
Stormkit’s belly rumbled as if to remind him that he was still hungry. Hidden behind the fallen tree he took another bite of fish. He glanced up to see if anyone was watching. But Oakkit had found him the most private spot in the camp. No one could see him here. Relieved and grateful, Stormkit gulped down the fresh-kill. Pain raked along his jaw, but he kept chewing. At last, his belly full, he sat up. A small pile of half-chewed fish sat by his paws where it had dribbled from his mouth. Stormkit quickly dug a hole in the soft earth and buried it. He jumped, hot with embarrassment, as Oakkit appeared around the end of the branch.
“Are you done?”
Stormkit nodded.
“Come and see the training corner we made in the nursery.”