by Erin Hunter
Mousefur shook her graying head. “They’ll be telling this story in the elders’ den long after I’ve left it.”
“How did you do it?” Sorreltail stared at Lionblaze in undisguised admiration.
“Are you hurt badly?” Daisy was frowning.
Graystripe prodded Lionblaze toward the medicine den. “Enough questions. Let Jayfeather check him over first.”
Pushing through the brambles, Lionblaze was relieved to be in the peace of the medicine den. Cinderheart looked up sharply as he entered, a pile of herbs at her paws.
“Are you really okay?” she rasped. “I thought they might have to carry you back.” The words caught in her throat.
Jayfeather padded forward. “I’ve had Cinderheart mixing herbs ready to treat you.” He nodded to the gray she-cat. “Thanks for your help, but you can go now. I’ll need quiet to treat him properly.”
Cinderheart’s ears twitched. “I could help,” she offered.
“No,” Jayfeather told her firmly. “Thank you.” He fixed his sightless blue gaze on her until she dipped her head and padded toward the brambles.
Briarlight was straining in her nest, craning to see Lionblaze. “I thought you were dead by the way she was carrying on.”
Jayfeather tossed her a ball of moss. “Do your exercises,” he ordered.
Briarlight grunted but dutifully began to toss the moss ball from one paw to the other, stretching farther and farther each time to keep it in the air.
Jayfeather led Lionblaze to the back of the den. “Are you happy now that you’re everyone’s hero?” he asked sharply.
“It had to be done.” Lionblaze felt stung.
“Not by you alone.”
Lionblaze bristled. “The fox has gone,” he hissed. “No one’s hurt.”
“Well, you can be the one to explain how that happened.”
“Can’t you just clean me up and smear a bit of ointment on me to make it look convincing?”
Jayfeather sighed. “Okay.” He led Lionblaze toward the pool at the side of the den and began to wash him with moss soaked in the icy water.
Exhausted by the fight, Lionblaze let Jayfeather clean his fur. But the quarrel with Dovepaw lingered in his mind.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t stop Ivypaw from going to the Dark Forest?” he whispered, one eye on Briarlight, still busy juggling in her nest. “Dovepaw’s worried about her.”
“Ivypaw’s okay.” Jayfeather dipped a fresh wad of moss into the pool. “She hasn’t come to me with any of her injuries and she hasn’t shown any sign of disloyalty to ThunderClan. We might as well use her to keep an eye on Tigerstar.”
“Then we should speak to her,” Lionblaze reasoned.
“And tell her what? To start spying?” Jayfeather swabbed Lionblaze’s ears roughly. “Remember what happened when you asked Dovepaw to spy for us? Let’s wait, then talk to her. She’ll have more to tell us, and she won’t feel like we’re using her.”
Lionblaze grunted and closed his eyes, resting until Jayfeather had finished.
“These should convince our Clanmates that you at least got a scratch or two.” Jayfeather rubbed a final blob of chewed herbs between Lionblaze’s shoulder blades.
Briarlight’s moss ball came sailing across the den and landed at Lionblaze’s paws. He scooped it up and threw it back.
“Are you okay now?” Briarlight asked.
“Fresh as a newborn kit,” Lionblaze told her.
Jayfeather snorted and started bundling away the herbs he’d unpacked from his store.
“Thanks, Jay,” Lionblaze murmured.
Jayfeather didn’t look up. “Would there be any point in telling you to be a bit more careful next time?” he muttered. “We don’t know for sure how far your powers stretch.”
Lionblaze touched his nose to the top of Jayfeather’s head. “Okay.” He headed for the entrance. “See you later, Briarlight,” he called as he nosed his way through the brambles.
Cinderheart was waiting outside. She hurried toward him and started sniffing at the streaks of ointment. “I wasn’t sure you’d be out so soon. . . .” Her mew trailed away, and she sniffed harder. “I can only smell the ointment,” she meowed slowly. “I don’t smell blood.”
Lionblaze edged away from her. “Jayfeather used some strong herbs,” he meowed. “They block most of the scent.”
Her eyes grew round. “You sound like nothing happened today.” Was that irritation in her mew? “You just took on a fox, single-pawed. You were drenched in blood.”
Lionblaze shrugged. “I’ve been trained to fight.”
“You looked like you were bleeding to death!” Anguish shone in her eyes. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
Lionblaze pressed his muzzle to her cheek. “You’ll never lose me,” he promised, his heart pricking with guilt.
“No!” Cinderheart flinched away from him. “I can’t do this. I can’t feel this way every time you go into battle.”
“Don’t say that!” Lionblaze’s heart lurched. “All warriors go into battle. But that doesn’t stop them from having mates.”
“Most warriors don’t hurl themselves right into the middle of every battle, or go out hunting foxes while everyone’s asleep!”
“But I’m okay! Look at me!”
“You can’t be!” Cinderheart stared at him, her eyes glazing. “All that blood!” Her tail trembled.
Lionblaze checked the clearing. Dustpelt was organizing hunting patrols. Daisy was washing a complaining Cherrykit while Molekit scrambled up her broad cream back. Berrynose and Hazeltail were busy weaving birch stems into the torn barrier.
No one was listening.
“I need to tell you something,” he whispered to Cinderheart. Wrapping his tail around her shoulders, he led her into the bramble patch beside the medicine den. Ducking between the tangled branches, he beckoned with his tail for her to follow. She crept in after him, eyes wide with curiosity.
“There’s something you need to understand.” Lionblaze stared straight at her. “Something that will reassure you that I won’t ever be hurt.”
She blinked at him.
“I can’t be wounded,” he blurted out.
She snorted. “You’ve certainly been lucky so far.”
“No!” Lionblaze shook his head. “There was a prophecy, many moons ago. It was given to Firestar. It was about cats who’d have more power than any others in all the Clans.”
Cinderheart tipped her head to one side, listening.
“I’m one of them. I’m one of those cats. I can’t get hurt. That’s my power. Not in battle, not with foxes, not by anything.” He stared at her, willing her to understand. To believe what he was saying.
Cinderheart sat back and stared at him. “There’s a prophecy?” she murmured. “About you?”
Lionblaze nodded. She understood!
“And you’ll never get hurt.” Cinderheart glanced at the ointment smears again.
“No.”
“So that you can protect the Clan.”
“Yes.” Lionblaze leaned forward, relieved that she’d taken it all so calmly. “You never need to worry about me again.” He ran his cheek along hers, his heart warming at her scent. “It’s all going to be okay.”
“No!” She jerked away and backed out of the brambles, her eyes glittering with grief. “We can’t do this. I can’t be your mate. Not if StarClan has given you this power.”
Lionblaze’s blood froze. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“You have a much greater destiny than me!” Cinderheart whispered. “We can’t do this anymore!” With a wail she turned and fled toward the warriors’ den.
Chapter 14
Jayfeather began to scoop up the herbs littering the den floor. What a waste. He’d used the commonest leaves to patch Lionblaze’s “wounds,” but even nettle stem and tansy would be hard to replace now that the snows had come. Last night, Brightheart and Leafpool had returned with only a few pawfuls of mallow and thyme. It had taken them
half a day to find that much.
“Millie!”
Briarlight’s mew jerked Jayfeather back into the present. His mouth watered at the sweet scent of mouse.
“I brought you some fresh-kill.” Millie dropped it beside Briarlight’s nest. “I thought you might be hungry. You ate hardly anything this morning.”
“I told you,” Briarlight muttered. “I’m not hungry.”
Millie began to tear the mouse apart. “Try a morsel.”
“That’s not going to make me hungry,” Briarlight snapped.
“Just eat a little of it,” Millie coaxed.
“I’m not hungry!”
Jayfeather padded to Briarlight’s nest. He touched his nose to her muzzle. It was damp but not warm. She wasn’t running a fever. But her mind was a whirl of worry and guilt.
“Has her chest infection come back?” Millie asked anxiously.
“Leave the fresh-kill with me,” Jayfeather suggested. “I’ll check her over and see if I can persuade her to eat something.”
Millie stayed beside her kit’s nest. “I want to know if she’s okay.”
“Go back to the hollow.” Jayfeather suspected that it would be easier to find out what was troubling the young warrior without Millie hovering. “It’ll give me more room to examine her.”
Millie hesitated.
“I’ll tell you as soon as I know anything,” he promised. He felt reluctance weighing Millie’s paws as she padded out of the den.
“I don’t know why she has to fuss over me so much,” Briarlight huffed as soon as she was gone.
“Don’t you?” Jayfeather didn’t wait for a reply. He leaned forward and sniffed her breath. It was clean and fresh. No sign of infection. He laid a paw on her chest. “Breathe in as deeply as you can.” Her breath was deep and clear.
“So, no appetite, eh?” He sensed stubbornness stiffening her pelt and felt the fierce ache of hunger in her belly.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“What?”
Jayfeather felt surprise flash from the young cat. “You might be able to fool Millie, but not me. Do you really think it’s fair to make her worry just because you’ve gotten it into your head that you don’t deserve food because you can’t hunt?”
“What are you talking about?” Embarrassment glowed hotly from the young warrior.
Jayfeather softened his tone. “I know you think you’re being fair.” He settled down beside her nest. “But it’s not that simple.”
Briarlight turned her head away. “I don’t hunt. I shouldn’t eat.”
“Daisy doesn’t hunt,” Jayfeather pointed out. “Should she starve?”
“She looks after the kits!” Briarlight grunted.
“What about when you keep them amused by playing moss-ball with them while Daisy rests?”
“Any cat could do that.”
“What about Purdy and Mousefur, then?” Jayfeather pressed. “They don’t hunt.”
“They’re old; they’ve hunted enough for the Clan.”
“But they can’t hunt anymore. Why don’t we let them die now?”
Shock pulsed from the young cat. “We couldn’t! They’re part of the Clan. It’s our duty to look after them.” Her nest rustled beneath her paws. “Besides, the Clan wouldn’t be the same without them.”
Jayfeather left a small silence for her to hear her own words. Then he mewed, “Do you think the Clan would be the same without you?”
She didn’t answer.
“The Clan brings you fresh-kill because they think you deserve it, and because looking after their Clanmates is what makes them warriors. They are proud to help you.”
“I just wish there was something I could do to help them back.” Emotion choked Briarlight’s mew.
“Okay.” Jayfeather sat up. “Come on. Out of that nest.”
Fur brushed twigs as Briarlight hauled herself out.
“If helping look after Molekit and Cherrykit isn’t enough work for you, there’s plenty you can do here.” He swept his tail around the medicine den. “I like to keep balls of moss piled beside the pool so that I can soak them if I need water for washing wounds or quenching the thirst of a sick cat. Brightheart usually brings me fresh moss every few days. From now on it’s your job to check it for splinters or thorns, then divide it into balls and stack it by the pool.”
“Okay.” Jayfeather felt Briarlight’s spirits lifting. “What else?”
“Keep the den floor clean,” he ordered. “We have just about every cat in the Clan coming and going at the moment. My herbs seem to get everywhere. Sweep out any dirt and paw up all stray leaves and pile them next to my store.”
“No problem.”
“And I need to go through my supplies and see what’s running low,” Jayfeather went on. “You can help me.” He padded to the crack in the rock at the back of the den. Sliding into the chilly cleft, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll pass them out; you stack them by the wall. We can go through them together.”
He began to shove out bundle after bundle of herbs. Many were dry and crumbled in his paws. Reaching to the back, he felt something downy beneath his paw. Hooking it with his claw, he pulled out a scrap of fur. He sniffed it, his heart quickening. Hollyleaf! How had her fur gotten here? Had she returned from the dead?
Don’t be mouse-brained!
She’d been Leafpool’s apprentice once. It must have lodged in a corner then and been there ever since. The warm familiar scent of his sister flooded his heart. For a moment he was back in the nursery, squirming and fighting with Lionkit and Hollykit while Ferncloud sniffed disapprovingly.
Catch this, Jaykit!
Hollykit’s a slow slug!
“Jayfeather?” A voice summoned him from his thoughts.
“That’s all there is, Briarlight.” Jayfeather tucked Hollyleaf’s fur into a crack in the rock.
“Jayfeather!” the voice called again.
“Start piling the matching leaves together, Briarlight. I’ll be out in a moment.”
“Jayfeather.” This time warm breath stirred his ear fur.
He jumped around, his pelt scraping the rock. No one was there. Yet the scent of another cat hung heavy in the air.
Yellowfang!
He squeezed out of the cleft. Briarlight was beside the far wall, sifting through the herbs. “I’m matching the leaves,” she called.
“Good, good.” Jayfeather circled warily, tasting the air. The frosty chill was thick with her scent. Why had Yellowfang come here? It was half-moon. He’d be sharing dreams with her at the Moonpool tonight. Why come now?
“Come with me.” Her rasping mew sounded behind him. “Don’t worry; no one can hear me except you.”
“What are you doing here?” he hissed.
“Visiting you.”
Briarlight paused. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” Jayfeather meowed hurriedly. “I—I’ve got to go out for a while. Keep matching the leaves. I’ll be back soon.” He followed Yellowfang’s scent out of the den and across the clearing.
“Couldn’t you have waited till tonight?” he snapped once they were clear of the hollow.
“Do you think I wanted to leave StarClan and come to this freezing place?”
A faint outline shimmered in front of Jayfeather’s eyes. He could see Yellowfang’s ragged pelt now, and the fuzzy outlines of trees behind her.
“Then why did you come?” Jayfeather’s paws ached from the snow.
“You needed to know this before you met with the others at the Moonpool!”
“Okay, okay,” Jayfeather muttered. “Just tell me, and we can both go home.”
“I saw Lionblaze fight the fox,” Yellowfang rasped.
“And?”
“It was a sign.”
“A sign of what? That he’s a mouse-brain?”
“He fought it alone.”
“Yeah. I know. He’s a mouse-brain,” Jayfeather repeated. His teeth were starting to chatter. “Can you get to
the point?”
Yellowfang’s stinking breath billowed around his muzzle as she leaned close. “Stop complaining and start listening,” she hissed. “Like Lionblaze, ThunderClan must fight alone.”
“When?”
“When the Dark Forest rises, ThunderClan must face its greatest enemy alone.”
Jayfeather blinked. “But the Dark Forest threatens every Clan.”
“Only one Clan will survive,” Yellowfang growled. “Yesterday four patrols could not drive the fox from your territory. Today Lionblaze sent it fleeing for its life. In the great battle that is coming, ThunderClan must fight alone.”
“But the Dark Forest warriors are training cats from every Clan,” Jayfeather reminded her.
“So every Clan might betray you!”
“But we’re all in danger. Surely we have to fight together?”
“Why do the Three belong to ThunderClan and no other Clan?” Yellowfang’s amber eyes burned. “It must be ThunderClan’s destiny to survive while others perish.”
What? There have to be four Clans! Around them, the cold wind whipped the snow into drifts. “Yellowfang!”
The old cat was fading, and with her his dream-vision. Jayfeather was plunged once more into blackness.
As the dusk patrol returned and settled down to share tongues, Jayfeather slipped out of the medicine den.
“Good luck!” Millie called as he padded softly around the clearing.
“Take care,” Briarlight added.
The young warrior was sharing a scrawny robin with her littermates, and Jayfeather could sense the relief washing over Millie’s pelt. He hadn’t told her why Briarlight had refused to eat, but Millie hadn’t asked. When the gray warrior had come to the medicine den to check on her kit and found her gulping down the mouse, paws stained with herbs, she’d been delighted.
“Keep her busy,” Jayfeather had advised. “She still has two paws, and they’ll get restless if they’re given nothing to do.”
Lionblaze and Dovepaw were yet again describing the miraculous defeat of the fox to their Clanmates. No one seemed to notice that the story changed a tiny bit in every telling. Rosepetal and Foxleap were begging for every detail.
“What was your winning move?”
“How did you avoid its teeth?”