by Erin Hunter
Cinderpelt’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been dreaming?”
“No, I—” Leafpaw broke off. “Actually, I think perhaps I have, but I don’t know what it means. I can’t even remember what the dream was about.”
Cinderpelt’s blue eyes considered her calmly for several heartbeats. “This may be a sign from StarClan,” she meowed at last.
“Then can you tell me what it means?” Leafpaw begged. “Please!”
To her dismay Cinderpelt shook her head. “The sign—if it is a sign—is yours,” she explained. “You know that StarClan never speak to us in plain words. Their messages come in little things . . . the prickling of fur, a tugging in our paws—”
“The feeling that something’s right—or wrong,” Leafpaw put in.
“Exactly.” Cinderpelt nodded. “Part of being a medicine cat is learning to read those messages by instinct . . . and we both know how hard it can be to make a leap of faith. That’s what you have to do now.”
“I’m not sure I know how,” Leafpaw confessed, scraping the ground with one forepaw. “Suppose I get the meaning wrong?”
“Do you think I’m never wrong?” Cinderpelt’s gaze suddenly grew intense. “You must trust your own judgment. Believe me, Leafpaw, one day you will make a wonderful medicine cat—perhaps even as good as Spottedleaf.”
Leafpaw’s eyes flew open. She had heard many stories of the gifted young medicine cat who had been killed not long after Firestar had joined ThunderClan. She had never in her wildest dreams thought that she might be compared with her. “Cinderpelt, you can’t mean that!”
“Of course I mean it,” Cinderpelt mewed dryly. “I don’t talk for the pleasure of hearing my own voice. As for burdock, you’ll find it growing on the edge of the training hollow. Why don’t you go and dig up a few roots—so we’ll have plenty, just in case.”
As Leafpaw trotted out of the camp, she tried to remember what she had dreamed about. But nothing came into her mind except for a picture of dark Twoleg nests and harsh light shining on a Thunderpath. She wondered if the dream had really been a sign from StarClan; instead, she had a sense that Squirrelpaw was trying to tell her something, though the strength of their link had dwindled with distance. Leafpaw had not seen her sister and the other journeying cats in her dream, but somehow she became convinced that Squirrelpaw had been bitten by a rat.
If only I’d gone with her, she thought helplessly. They need a medicine cat. Oh, Squirrelpaw, where are you?
In the sandy hollow, Mousefur and Thornclaw were training their apprentices. Leafpaw paused for a few moments to watch, but somehow she could not summon up much interest. She felt as if the sunlight were draining all her energy away, so that she could hardly manage to put one paw in front of the others.
The tall stems of the burdock were easy to find. Leafpaw burrowed under the dark, sharp-scented leaves to dig up the roots. When she had scraped off most of the clinging earth, she carried them back to Cinderpelt’s den and laid them in a neat pile beside the other herbs.
Tonight was the Gathering, she remembered. When Cinderpelt had first told her she would be going she had been excited, especially at the thought of seeing Mothwing again. Now she did not feel she had enough strength for the journey to Fourtrees. She would have given up every Gathering from now until she went to join StarClan, if only she could have been sure that her sister was safe.
By the time the ThunderClan cats reached the Gathering, Leafpaw felt better. She had snatched a brief nap after sunhigh, her nose filled with the scent of burdock clinging to her fur, and woken with energy in her paws again.
As she emerged from the bushes in the clearing at Fourtrees, she saw Mothwing pushing her way towards her.
“Hi, there,” Leafpaw meowed. “How are you getting on?”
Mothwing paused. “Fine, I think, but there’s so much to learn! And there are times I don’t feel any closer to StarClan than before I went to Mothermouth.”
Leafpaw let out a wry meow. “We all feel that. I think every medicine cat in the forest has felt it at some time.”
Mothwing’s huge amber eyes were confused. “But I thought I’d be wise now that I’m a medicine cat. I thought I’d walk closely with StarClan and always know the answer to everything.”
She looked so dejected that Leafpaw leaned over and gave her ear a comforting lick. “One day perhaps you will. We walk closer to StarClan every day.” When Mothwing still looked uneasy she added, “Mothwing, is there something in particular bothering you?”
Mothwing started. “Oh, no,” she replied, shaking her broad golden head. “Nothing at all, only—”
Leafpaw never found out what she was going to say. A loud yowling drowned out Mothwing’s voice as Tallstar, on the top of the Great Rock, called for silence. Leopardstar stood beside him, while Firestar and Blackstar, the leader of ShadowClan, sat a little way behind.
Leopardstar was the first of the leaders to speak. “Tallstar,” she meowed, “rain has fallen many times on the forest since the last Gathering. Do the streams run freely again in WindClan territory?”
Tallstar inclined his head toward her. “They do, Leopardstar.”
“Then I take back the permission I gave to you and your Clan to enter RiverClan territory to drink. From now on, my warriors will drive out any WindClan cats we find across our borders.”
She said nothing about the way that WindClan had gone on visiting the river even when they no longer needed to, but her voice was sharp, and Leafpaw could see the displeasure she was not expressing in words.
Tallstar faced the RiverClan leader, unblinking. “Leopardstar, WindClan thanks you for your help and will not abuse your trust.”
The RiverClan leader gave him a sharp little nod and stepped back. Suddenly there was a disturbance among the cats in the clearing, and a sleek tabby cat with massive shoulders rose to his paws. It was Mothwing’s brother, Hawkfrost.
“With your permission, Leopardstar, I would like to speak,” he meowed.
Leafpaw was surprised; young warriors did not usually speak at Gatherings.
“Well?” Leopardstar mewed.
Hawkfrost hesitated, scuffling the ground in front of him with one paw in apparent shyness, though Leafpaw noticed that his ice-blue eyes flicked from side to side as if making sure that every cat was watching him. “I’m not sure I should say this, but . . . well, when WindClan came to the river, they didn’t just drink. I’ve seen them stealing fish.”
“What?” Tallstar sprang to the edge of the rock and crouched there as if he were about to pounce on the RiverClan warrior. “How dare you! No WindClan cats have stolen prey!”
Leafpaw knew that was a lie; she remembered Squirrelpaw telling her about catching a WindClan patrol on ThunderClan territory with a stolen vole.
“Did any other cats see this?” Leopardstar asked Hawkfrost.
“I don’t think so.” Hawkfrost sounded apologetic. “I was on my own at the time.”
Leopardstar’s gaze raked the clearing, but no cat spoke. Leafpaw wondered if she should say anything, but she had not seen the theft for herself; Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw were long gone, and Dustpelt, who had also seen it, had not come to this Gathering. She kept silent.
Tallstar turned to the RiverClan leader. “I swear by StarClan that WindClan have taken nothing but water from the river. Are you going to condemn us on the word of one warrior?”
Leopardstar’s neck fur bristled. “Are you saying that my warrior is lying?”
“Are you calling my Clan thieves?” Tallstar’s lips drew back in a snarl, his teeth bared and his claws unsheathed.
Yowls of protest broke out in the clearing from both RiverClan and WindClan cats. Leafpaw watched the warriors turn on each other, spitting challenges. She felt her fur stand on end, suddenly terrified that the sacred truce of the Gathering would be broken.
“Did Hawkfrost have to start this?” she murmured, half to herself.
“What should he do?” Mothwing’s voice was sharp
as she defended her brother. “Keep quiet and let WindClan get away with it? Every cat in RiverClan knows that for a couple of mousetails those cats would steal the pelt off your back.” Her amber eyes blazed and she sprang to her paws as if she were ready to join in a fight the moment it started.
A furious hiss came from her mentor, Mudfur, reminding her that medicine cats were meant to keep peace, and Mothwing shot him a glance, half-angry, half-ashamed.
“Wait!” The single word carried clearly across the hollow. Leafpaw saw that Firestar had come forward to the edge of the rock. “StarClan is angry—look up at the moon!”
With every other cat, Leafpaw gazed upward. The full moon floated above the trees; not far away a single cloud was being driven towards it, even though there was barely a breath of wind in the clearing. She shivered. If StarClan were angry enough to cover the moon, the Gathering would have to break up.
The warriors crouched down, their hostility fading to fear.
Firestar’s voice rang out again. “Leopardstar, Tallstar, will you lead your Clans into battle on the word of one warrior? Hawkfrost, is it possible that you were mistaken in what you saw?”
Hawkfrost paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing to slits as he stared at the ThunderClan leader. “I believe what I said,” he replied at last, “but I suppose it’s possible I got it wrong. I might have been dazzled by the sun on the water, or something.”
“Then let there be friendship between RiverClan and WindClan,” Firestar meowed. “Tallstar has already promised not to come down to the river again.”
“And I’ll keep my promise,” Tallstar spat. “But you should teach your young warriors to show a bit of respect, Leopardstar.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Leopardstar was still angry, but Leafpaw recognised that the threat of battle was over. Above their heads the cloud was carried away from the moon, as though StarClan’s anger were fading.
“Remember how good life is in the forest just now,” Firestar urged both leaders. “Prey is plentiful, and the streams are full again. We are all well prepared for leaf-fall and leaf-bare. There is no need for us to invade one another’s territories.” He flashed a glance at Blackstar, who had been sitting with a knowing look on his face, as though he were enjoying the disagreement between the other Clans. “That doesn’t mean my borders are not well guarded,” he added pointedly.
“And so are RiverClan’s,” Leopardstar hissed, but she took a pace back, as if acknowledging that the dispute was over.
Tallstar moved away, too, leaving Firestar at the front of the rock. Leafpaw knew what was coming; her father paused before he began to speak, and she guessed that he was choosing his words with care. He would not want the other Clans to think that he had driven out his own cats.
“A quarter moon ago,” he began, “the warrior Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw, an apprentice, left ThunderClan. We do not know where they have gone, but we have reason to believe that they did not go alone.” Turning to the other leaders, he went on. “Have any of your warriors gone missing?”
Leopardstar replied willingly enough; Leafpaw guessed that Mistyfoot had told her she had already passed on the news about Stormfur and Feathertail. “Two warriors left RiverClan—Stormfur and Feathertail—just before the half-moon. At first we assumed they had crossed the river to live in your territory, Firestar. Since they have connections in ThunderClan”—she spoke with icy disapproval of her warriors’ half-Clan heritage—“we can assume they have all gone together.”
There was a pause; then Tallstar cleared his throat and mewed quietly, “WindClan has lost an apprentice, Crowpaw. It would have been about the same time.” He added, “I thought a fox or a badger might have got him, but it looks as if he might be with your lot.”
A murmur of uneasiness broke out in the clearing. Some cat called out, “How do you know? Maybe there’s something in the forest picking us off one by one.”
The murmur grew louder, and a cat on the edge of the throng let out a wail of terror. Leafpaw could see cats exchanging fearful glances or springing to their paws as if they were ready to flee from the clearing.
“What about the dogs?” another voice yowled. “Maybe the dogs have come back!”
Firestar paced to the edge of the Highrock and looked down. For a moment he caught Leafpaw’s eye. She shivered; surely he wasn’t going to talk about her link with Squirrelpaw in front of the whole Gathering?
She relaxed as her father began to speak. “We wondered about predators too,” he meowed. “But there are none of the signs we would expect to see in the forest—and believe me, ThunderClan would know if the dogs were back. We are sure these cats left of their own accord.”
His calm voice seemed to reassure his listeners; the cats who had sprung up sat down again, though many of them still looked uneasy.
“What about ShadowClan?” Firestar turned to Blackstar. “Have you lost cats too?”
The ShadowClan leader hesitated; it was always the nature of that Clan to be secretive, as if information were as precious as prey.
“Tawnypelt,” he meowed at last. “I assumed she had gone back to ThunderClan to be with her brother.”
Murmurs filled the clearing, as the cats tried to make sense of what they had just learned.
“That’s at least one cat from every Clan!” Mothwing exclaimed. “What does it mean?” Sounding frustrated, she added, “Why hasn’t StarClan shown this to me?”
Leafpaw longed to tell her friend what Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw had told her before they left. She wondered if Cinderpelt would mention the omen she saw in the burning bracken, that fire and tiger would join together, somehow connected to trouble for the whole forest. But when she spotted the medicine cat, crouched beside Littlecloud at the base of the Highrock, her head was lowered and she did not speak.
“What do you suggest we do, Firestar?” Tallstar asked.
“There’s not much we can do,” Leopardstar interrupted before Firestar could reply. “They’re gone. They could be anywhere.”
Tallstar looked troubled. “I don’t understand why they had to go all together like that, but they must have had some idea in their heads. I’d swear Crowpaw was loyal to his Clan.”
Firestar nodded. “They are all loyal cats.” Leafpaw knew he must be thinking of his quarrels with Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw before they left, and his worries about the prophecy.
“There must be something we can do,” Tallstar asserted. “We can’t just pretend they never existed.”
“Your concern honours you, Tallstar,” Firestar meowed. “But I agree with Leopardstar. There’s nothing we can do. They are all in the paws of StarClan. And may StarClan grant that one day soon they will come back safely.”
Blackstar, who had made no suggestions so far, added derisively, “Hope is easy, but it catches no prey. If you ask me, we’ve seen the last of them.”
From somewhere behind Leafpaw some cat muttered, “He’s right. It’s dangerous out there.”
Leafpaw felt as though a huge talon were squeezing her heart. Her fears for Squirrelpaw flooded over her again, and she remembered her dream about the rat bites. Squirrelpaw, she murmured to herself, there must be something I can do to help you.
She found it hard to listen as Blackstar reported more Twoleg activity around the Thunderpath, even harder when it seemed that the new monsters were all gathered around a boggy piece of ground where the cats never went.
What does it matter? she thought distractedly. Who cares what Twolegs do?
When the meeting was brought to a close she said goodbye to Mothwing and hurried to find Cinderpelt. An idea had come to her; she was eager to get back to camp and try it out.
On the way back to the ThunderClan camp she made herself keep to Cinderpelt’s slower pace, until the two medicine cats were walking alone, behind the others.
“Cats from all four Clans have disappeared, have they?” Cinderpelt mused. She paused briefly to gaze up at the full moon, now sinking below the trees. �
�Leafpaw, you’re worried about Squirrelpaw, aren’t you? Do you know anything about where she is now?”
The direct question startled Leafpaw, and for a couple of heartbeats she did not know how to reply.
“Come on, Leafpaw.” Cinderpelt narrowed her eyes. “Don’t try to tell me you know nothing.”
Leafpaw stopped and faced her mentor, grateful for the chance to tell the truth. “I know that she’s alive, and that she’s with the other cats who have left. But I don’t know where they are, or what they’re doing. They’re very far away, I think—further than any of the forest cats have gone before.”
Cinderpelt nodded; Leafpaw wondered if StarClan had told her anything about the journey, but if they had the medicine cat said nothing.
“You might tell your father that,” she meowed. “It will help reassure him.”
“Yes, I will.”
They reached the ravine at last; Leafpaw’s paws felt weary as she followed her mentor down the gorse tunnel and into the camp.
“Cinderpelt,” she meowed, “will it do me any harm to eat some of the burdock root?”
“It might give you a bellyache if you eat too much,” Cinderpelt replied. “Why?”
“Just an idea I had.” If I can tell what Squirrelpaw is thinking, she added to herself, maybe she can pick up something from me. She almost felt that she was stupid to hope she could reach her sister across such great distances, but she knew she had to try.
Warmth glimmered in Cinderpelt’s eyes, and she did not press her apprentice to say more. Before she went to her nest in the ferns, Leafpaw bit hard into one of the burdock roots stored in the den, and settled down to sleep with the bitter mouthful in her jaws.
Burdock root. Burdock root, she whispered. Squirrelpaw, can you hear me? Burdock root for rat bites.
CHAPTER 22
Brambleclaw crouched in the bushes and watched the full moon suspended in the dark blue sky. Back at Fourtrees, the Clans would have met for their Gathering. The thought of the clearing thronged with cats, of gossip exchanged and stories told, made him feel lonelier than ever.