by Erin Hunter
“Are you stealing my apprentice?” came a warm voice behind Leafpool.
She turned to see Brackenfur watching her. “Only for a moment,” she promised. “Firestar’s bedding is a little frosty this morning.”
The golden tabby narrowed his eyes. “How is he?”
“Fine,” mewed Leafpool. “But losing a life is a bigger deal than Firestar makes out, so I’ve told him to stay in his nest today.”
Brackenfur nodded. “Quite right. Brambleclaw can manage the patrols.”
Leafpool studied the warrior. “Do you think Firestar made the right decision to declare Graystripe dead and appoint Brambleclaw in his place?”
The warrior flicked his tail. “A Clan without a deputy is . . . an odd thing. I always felt that it made us vulnerable.” He bent down and touched his muzzle to the top of Leafpool’s head. “But there are some absences that leave us even more unprotected. I’m glad you came back, Leafpool. Without a medicine cat, I don’t think ThunderClan would survive.”
Leafpool was saved from having to reply by a flurry of paw steps from the nursery.
“Brackenfur!” squeaked Berrykit. “Watch this fighting move that Thornclaw taught me!” He skidded to halt in front of the warrior. “I don’t need to wait another moon before I become an apprentice,” he chirped. “I can defend my Clan now!” He squatted on his haunches and glared at an ant scuttling across the ground, then sprang into the air with his front legs outstretched. He landed in a heap of creamy fur while the ant darted unscathed beneath a stone.
“You’re almost ready, little one,” Brackenfur meowed, picking up Berrykit by the scruff of his neck and setting him on his paws again. “Keep practicing!”
Daisy appeared at the entrance to the nursery, her cream fur ruffled. “Berrykit! Stop bothering Brackenfur! Come here so I can finish washing you!”
Berrykit’s littermates Hazelkit and Mousekit popped their heads out beside their mother. “Yes, Berrykit,” mewed Hazelkit. “You’re so naughty, Firestar is going to feed you to the badgers!”
Daisy looked horrified. “Firestar would never do such a thing! Go back inside, you two, it’s far too cold out here.” She ushered her kits back into the nursery.
“Daisy seems a bit overwhelmed,” Leafpool commented with an amused purr.
Brackenfur sent Berrykit on his way with a gentle nudge. “The nursery’s pretty crowded with Sorreltail’s kits as well. I don’t remember having this many kits at the start of leaf-bare before.”
Leafpool nodded. “At least Daisy’s kits will be able to help with hunting soon.”
Brackenfur tipped his head on one side. “Help—or hinder,” he purred. Then he straightened up. “But if StarClan has given us the gift of so many kits, our ancestors must know that we are able to take care of them. That is our duty, after all.” He strode away, calling to Ashfur that they would take their apprentices out as soon as Whitepaw returned.
There was a rustle of branches at the entrance to the nursery and four tiny bundles hopped out. “Can’t catch me!” squealed Molekit, charging across the clearing on his stumpy legs.
“Bet I can!” puffed his sister Honeykit as she raced after him.
Poppykit and Cinderkit followed more slowly, placing each paw delicately on the frosty grass. “Ooh, it’s cold!” mewed Poppykit, fluffing up her tortoiseshell fur.
Cinderkit looked around, and Leafpool felt the little cat’s pale blue gaze rest on her. “Look, it’s Leafpool!” Cinderkit chirped. She trotted over to the medicine cat, her short gray tail straight up in the air. “How’s Firestar?” she mewed. “We heard there was a terrible accident.”
“Yes, an accident,” Leafpool echoed. Wise Sorreltail was keeping the true horror of the events from her babies. “He’s doing well,” she purred. “He’ll stay in his nest for one day, then he’ll be up and about again.”
“Good,” mewed Cinderkit. “A Clan needs its leader.”
Leafpool stared at the tiny cat. What was it about her that seemed so different from other kits? Sometimes she sounded so much older than a moon, and Leafpool had watched her gaze at her Clanmates as if she was looking from far, far away, with the knowledge of a cat in StarClan. Also, there was something familiar about her scent, more than the milky comfort of the nursery and Sorreltail’s warm smell. Leafpool was about to bend down and sniff Cinderkit’s pelt again when Sorreltail squeezed out of the nursery, her belly still loose and swollen from the birth.
“Kits!” she called. “Don’t bother the warriors!”
“We’re not!” squeaked Honeykit. “Me and Molekit are practicing our running.”
“Yeah, and I’m still faster than you,” her brother insisted. He stretched out one front paw. “Look, my legs are longer!”
“But mine are quicker!” yowled Honeykit, hurtling away in a blur of light brown fur.
Sorreltail winced as her daughter almost knocked Whitepaw off her feet. The apprentice was half hidden behind a bundle of moss that she had dragged through the entrance.
“Oh Honeykit, watch where you’re going!” Sorreltail chided. She turned to Leafpool and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how StarClan thought I could cope with four of them!” But her voice was warm and full of love.
Leafpool caught her breath as her belly tightened around a powerful squirming sensation. It was not the first time she had felt it, but it still made her flinch. She had figured out what the vision of three tiny stars meant half a moon ago. Bluestar, Yellowfang, Lionheart: They had all known the shadowed path that Leafpool was about to tread. And now it was as if the kits inside Leafpool were challenging her to stop lying to herself, to admit their existence and start preparing for the future.
My kits!
Not just Leafpool’s kits—Crowfeather’s too. And they would arrive within the next moon. Oh, what am I going to do?
“Are you all right?” Sorreltail was peering at her. “Do you feel ill?”
Leafpool turned away. She didn’t want Sorreltail to look at her too closely; if any cat knew what an expecting she-cat looked like, it was this experienced queen. “I’m fine,” she panted. “Just a little bellyache. Must have been that tough old shrew I ate yesterday.” She glanced around and saw Brambleclaw’s tail whisking into the warriors’ den. His hunting patrol had returned. “I must go check Brambleclaw’s wounds,” Leafpool meowed, hurrying away. She felt Sorreltail’s gaze boring into her but she didn’t turn around.
Brambleclaw was lying in his nest, licking his pads. His claws were battered from digging up the fox trap and he was covered in scratches dealt by Hawkfrost, but he had insisted on going out on patrol as usual. He looked tired, though, and Leafpool could tell by the way he held himself that he was in pain.
He brought this upon himself! I saw him in the Dark Forest with Tigerstar and Hawkfrost! They must have plotted together to catch Firestar in the trap. Leafpool couldn’t explain why Brambleclaw had decided to free Firestar and kill Hawkfrost; she assumed something had gone wrong with the plan. But I saw the circle of thorns surrounding the hollow, keeping us safe! Why can’t I trust Brambleclaw now?
“Let me see your paws,” she mewed, bending over him.
With a grunt, Brambleclaw shifted and raised each foot in turn. Some of his claws were dangerously loose, and Leafpool suspected one would fall out next time he pounced on something, but there was no smell of infection. “They’d heal more quickly if you rested,” she commented. Brambleclaw shrugged. “I’ll send Whitepaw over with some marigold juice,” Leafpool went on. “Rub it into each pad, and also the wounds in your pelt. If you have trouble sleeping, I can give you a poppy seed.”
“I don’t need that,” Brambleclaw meowed. Leafpool turned away, eager to leave the cramped, musty space and her troubled feelings about the injured warrior.
She felt Brambleclaw’s amber gaze burning into her pelt. “You can trust me now, Leafpool,” he mewed.
Leafpool looked back at him. “It’s not my role to judge you.”
“I
know you saw me in the Dark Forest with Tigerstar and Hawkfrost.”
Leafpool flinched. “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen,” she whispered.
Brambleclaw shook his head. “No, and I’m not going to deny it. But I promise that it won’t happen again. Yesterday changed everything. Hawkfrost is dead—dead because of me! And I know where my loyalty lies now. I am the deputy of ThunderClan, and my Clan is the only thing that matters.”
Suddenly the kits writhed, pushing against Leafpool’s flanks so hard that she staggered.
Brambleclaw sat up. “Leafpool, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Leafpool hissed through gritted teeth. “I . . . I swallowed some mouse bile by mistake when I was treating Mousefur’s ticks, that’s all.”
“You look like you need some fresh air,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Go on, I’m fine here. Send Whitepaw with the marigold juice when you’re feeling better. And get the apprentices to deal with ticks!”
Leafpool stumbled out of the den, gulping the cold, clean air as if it were water. Berrykit, Hazelkit, and Mousekit were lined up in the center of the clearing, taking turns pouncing on a stick.
“Got you, ShadowClan warrior!” Mousekit spat, baring his tiny white teeth.
Berrykit braced his front paws in the middle of the twig and pushed down until it snapped. “Death to the enemy!” he squealed.
Hazelkit was distracted by their father, Spiderleg, walking past. “This is the real enemy!” she chirped, making a grab for the black warrior’s tail.
Spiderleg dropped the piece of fresh-kill he was carrying and spun around. “What are you doing?” he snapped, flicking his tail out of the way.
Hazelkit’s shoulders drooped. “Only playing,” she mewed.
Daisy looked out of the nursery. “Don’t disturb your father!” she called. Spiderleg grunted and picked up his prey again. Leafpool saw Daisy narrow her eyes as the long-limbed black tom walked away.
Crowfeather would always be willing to play with our kits. The thought flew into Leafpool’s mind before she could stop it. She pictured the dark gray warrior surrounded by three tiny shapes, letting them pounce on his tail and nibble his whiskers. In her mind, the background was blurry, and she couldn’t tell whether he was framed by cliffs or the open moor where WindClan made their home. But what did it matter where they lived, as long as their kits were happy?
CHAPTER 3
Leafpool flattened her ears, feeling fury and shame battle inside her. Stop! Why are you thinking like this? You cannot have these kits!
She had already betrayed ThunderClan once by leaving them when the badgers attacked. When Cinderpelt died because Leafpool had chosen to go away with Crowfeather, Leafpool had made a vow to StarClan that she would never abandon her duties. Wherever you are, Cinderpelt, if you can hear me, I promise that I will never leave our Clan again.
In her belly, her kits thrashed in protest. What about us? they seemed to be saying. Leafpool was about to twist around and press her muzzle against her side when she realized that Daisy was watching her. She forced herself to stand up straight and trotted over to the Highledge. There was only one place she could go to think clearly.
“Firestar, I need to visit the Moonpool.”
The ThunderClan leader looked surprised. “Really? Can’t it wait until the half-moon? Or is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Of course there isn’t,” Leafpool lied. “But it is important.”
“Then you must go,” mewed Firestar. He stretched his forepaws over the side of his nest. “Brightheart can take care of Brambleclaw’s wounds while you’re gone.” Leafpool opened her mouth to speak but he continued, with a glint in his eye, “And I promise to stay in my den for the rest of today. Although I presume I’m allowed to poke my head out for some fresh air?”
Leafpool purred. “Only your head, nothing more!” The thought of being able to go to the Moonpool made her dizzy with relief. The StarClan warriors would show her the way forward, remind her that she was not alone and that everything would be all right.
Firestar flicked his ears. “You must leave now if you want to reach the Moonpool before darkness. Go well, and be safe.”
Leafpool blinked gratefully at him. “Thank you, Firestar. I will return as soon as I can.”
She ran down the tumble of rocks to the clearing, careful not to let the weight of the kits unbalance her. She found Brightheart stocking the fresh-kill pile and told her she would be away for a day, no more. Brightheart agreed to check Brambleclaw’s injuries, though there was a flash of alarm in her single blue eye.
“Is everything all right, Leafpool? Has there been an omen?”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Leafpool told her.
Squirrelflight dragged a blackbird up to the pile. “Are you going somewhere?”
“To the Moonpool. I need to speak with StarClan.”
Squirrelflight looked up at the dark gray sky. “There’s a storm on the way. Are you sure you should go alone?”
“Of course,” Leafpool meowed. “StarClan will light my path.”
Her sister nodded to the blackbird. “Do you want something to eat before you go?”
“No, I want to be there by nightfall.” Leafpool touched her muzzle to Squirrelflight’s and turned away before the she-cats could ask any more questions. In spite of the heaviness inside her belly, her steps felt light and quick. StarClan would show her what she must do!
The storm hit just as Leafpool started the rocky climb up to the hollow where the Moonpool lay. Freezing wind buffeted her fur and flung sharp pellets of hail at her until her skin was soaked and sore. Leafpool lowered her head and plodded on, sinking her claws into the mud between the rocks so the wind wouldn’t blow her off the path. Inside her, the kits seemed to curl up in fear.
Don’t be scared, little ones. I will keep you safe.
Leafpool was trembling so much from cold and exhaustion when she reached the top of the hollow that her paws could hardly carry her down the print-marked spiral path. She stumbled to the edge of the Moonpool, ruffled and black in the half-light, and let her body fold onto the hard stone. Waves splashed against her muzzle. Too tired to utter a prayer to StarClan, Leafpool plunged into sleep.
She opened her eyes in a warm green forest, with sunlight slicing between the branches. There was the scent of prey on the air, and the rustle of a small furry animal in a nearby patch of ferns. Leafpool looked around for the StarClan warriors she hoped to see—and saw a slender dark gray cat watching her with his head on one side.
“Your turn, Leafpool,” he prompted. He nudged a ball of moss with his forepaw. “Remember what I showed you about pouncing.”
Crowfeather! Then she was not in StarClan, but back in a memory of the time she had spent with the WindClan warrior, in the woods beyond the ThunderClan border.
Crowfeather flicked his tail. “Don’t be afraid of some moss!” he teased. “Rabbits have teeth and claws to fight back with, but this won’t hurt you.”
Leafpool crouched down and crept toward the moss. She flattened her ears, shifted her weight onto her haunches, and sprang forward with her legs outstretched. At the very last moment, Crowfeather rolled the ball of moss away with his paw and Leafpool’s claws grasped at thin air.
“Oh no!” Crowfeather purred. “It escaped!”
Leafpool whirled around and jumped onto the moss, ripping it to shreds. “Take that!” she hissed. “You won’t get away from me!” She looked up at the dark gray tom, laughter bubbling inside her. “I haven’t played this game since I was a kit!” she mewed.
Crowfeather narrowed his eyes. “I can tell!”
Leafpool launched herself at him, knocking him onto the fallen leaves. “Think I can’t hunt, hmmm? I can catch you anytime I want!” She found herself standing over him, gazing down into his blue eyes.
“I’d never run away from you,” Crowfeather whispered. “Ow!”
Leafpool jumped backward. “Did I hurt you?”
Crowfeather was sitting up and licking at the base of his spine. “No, I think I lay on a thistle.”
“Let me look.” Leafpool pushed his muzzle away and parted the hair on his back. “There’s a tiny prickle stuck in you. Hold still . . .” She bent closer and gripped the end of the thorn in her teeth. It slid free easily, and Leafpool rubbed the spot with her paw. “There, you’ll live!”
Crowfeather nuzzled her cheek. “Thank StarClan I had a medicine cat to save me!”
“Let’s climb a tree!” Leafpool suggested. She walked over to a moss-covered oak and stared up at the branches.
Crowfeather padded over to join her. “I don’t see why we can’t stay on the ground,” he muttered. “We’re cats, not squirrels!”
“Come on,” Leafpool urged. “You know it’s not as hard as it looks, and the view from the top is worth it!” She jumped up to the lowest branch and used her front paws to haul herself onto the next one. Crowfeather followed, moving more carefully than Leafpool, but light-footed and nimble thanks to his slender frame. The branches were strong and dry, with deeply-ridged bark that made it easy to grip with their claws. Leafpool was hardly out of breath when she reached the top of the oak and broke through the leaves. Crowfeather popped out beside her, clinging so hard to the slender branch that Leafpool felt it sway beneath them.
“It’s okay,” she mewed. “I won’t let you fall.”
Crowfeather blinked. “Neither of us has wings, Leafpool, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t like how high up we are.”
“But look how far we can see!”
They were on the other side of the ridge from the lake, out of sight of any of the Clan territories. In front of them, the land unrolled in dips and curves all the way to the dark line of mountains on the horizon. Here and there, Twoleg dens clustered in small reddish groups, but mostly the view was empty.
Leafpool shuffled closer to Crowfeather and leaned her head against his shoulder. His pelt smelled of grass and the breeze, with a faint hint of rabbit underneath. “There is so much land beyond our homes,” she whispered.