Goosefeather's Curse

by Erin Hunter

  Goosekit nodded.

  “The dark brown tom went behind the elders’ den,” mewed the tom. “And I think I saw the other one go into those ferns.”

  Goosekit’s fur spiked. If Cloudberry caught Moonkit beside her den, they’d be in big trouble! “Thanks!” he called to the black-and-white cat. He bounded to the elders’ den and squeezed behind it, screwing up his eyes so they didn’t get poked by thorns. He almost fell over Heronkit, who was trying to make himself invisible by crouching behind a clump of thistles.

  “Watch out!” Heronkit protested, wriggling out of the way.

  “Sorry,” Goosekit puffed. “At least I found you! Go join the others by the half-tree. I need to find Moonkit.”

  He turned around, not easy in the tiny, prickly space, and struggled back to the clearing. He could see the tips of some ferns waving beside the rock that sheltered the medicine cat’s den. Goosekit hoped that he would find Moonkit before Cloudberry did. He ran over to the tunnel that led into the dense ferns and stuck his head between the pale green stalks.

  “Moonkit! Are you in there?”

  There was no reply. Goosekit sighed and pushed his way in. The scent of fresh and dried herbs was overwhelming this close to the medicine den, and it was impossible to pick up any other smells. But he spotted a tiny paw print in a damp patch of earth, and a dent at the stalks of some ferns, as if something had brushed past not long ago. He followed the trail and spotted pale gray fur glowing among the greenery.

  “I see you, Moonkit!” he called softly.

  There was a hiss of annoyance and his sister started heading toward him.

  “Come on, before Cloudberry sees us,” Goosekit urged. He turned and began pushing through the ferns just as a stir of movement close by suggested that Cloudberry had poked her head out of her den.

  “Swiftpaw, is that you?” the old cat called.

  Ducking his head, Goosekit nudged Moonkit past the last clump of stalks and into the clearing.

  “I can’t believe you found me so quickly!” Moonkit wailed.

  “He found all of us too quickly,” meowed Heronkit, narrowing his eyes. “I bet he cheated!”

  “I did not!” Goosekit protested. His fur grew hot. He hadn’t asked the black-and-white cat to help him! Any of the others could have been told where he was hiding when it was their turn to look.

  “You must have,” Poppykit insisted. “You didn’t look anywhere else except where we were hiding!”

  “I told you that I heard Rabbitkit move!”

  “I don’t believe you,” Poppykit hissed. “I don’t want to play with you anymore.”

  “Me neither,” huffed Heronkit. He deliberately turned his back on Goosekit. “Come on, let’s play something else. Without him.”

  Moonkit shot Goosekit an apologetic look. “It does seem like you cheated,” she whispered.

  Goosekit flattened his ears. “Whatever. I don’t want to play with you anyway.” He stomped toward the nursery. Maybe he’d find an elder to tell him more stories about LeopardClan and TigerClan. Those were real adventures, not like stupid games of hide-and-seek.

  There was a rattle of branches as a patrol returned through the gorse tunnel. Goosekit sat down in the shadows beside his den and watched the long-legged, powerful-looking warriors spill into the clearing. Cloudberry puffed her way out of the ferns to meet them.

  “Is all well on the borders, Windflight?” she asked the gray tabby who was sniffing at the fresh-kill pile.

  Windflight nodded. “Twolegplace was as quiet as Fourtrees at new moon,” he commented. “Those cats we chased off two sunrises ago haven’t dared showed their noses again!” He lifted his head and looked around the clearing. “Is Swiftpaw back? I want to take her out for some battle training with Harepounce and Adderpaw.”

  Cloudberry narrowed her eyes. “I assumed she’d met up with you and joined the patrol. I haven’t seen her since she left.”

  “No, she didn’t join us. I thought you told her to fetch comfrey leaves and come straight back,” Windflight meowed.

  A dark ginger cat with a white muzzle trotted over to them. “Are you talking about Swiftpaw? Is something the matter?”

  “Nothing to worry about, Flashnose,” Windflight mewed. “Swiftpaw is taking longer than we expected to fetch herbs, that’s all.”

  Flashnose turned in a tight circle. “She went out before we did. Something must have happened to her!”

  Windflight touched her rump with the tip of his tail. “She’ll be fine. She’s almost a warrior now, and she’s smart enough to take care of herself. Just like her mother,” he added.

  But the ginger she-cat refused to be comforted. “We must find her! What if she came across a fox?” She looked at the den below Highrock. “Is Doestar back yet?”

  Cloudberry shook her head. “You’re the first patrol to return. No one here but the kits and elders.”

  Another patrol returned, this time carrying the rewards of good hunting. As they started to drop their catch on the fresh-kill pile, Flashnose called to them, “Did any of you see Swiftpaw in the forest?”

  Daisytoe tucked the tail of her fat gray squirrel onto the pile. “Not a whisker,” she meowed. “I thought she went to fetch herbs.”

  “She did, but she’s not back yet,” Windflight explained. “I’m sure she’s fine—”

  “You can’t be sure!” Flashnose hissed. “Swiftpaw is too young to be out on her own.”

  “We’ll go back out to look for her,” Rooktail meowed, coming to stand beside Flashnose. The other warriors in his patrol nodded.

  Daisytoe trotted over to the kits, who were watching, huge-eyed. “Come on, into the nursery,” she prompted. “I want you to stay there until I come back.” As she ushered them past Goosekit, she included him with a sweep of her tail. “You too, little one.”

  “But we could help look for Swiftpaw!” Moonkit protested as Daisytoe pushed them into the den.

  “Definitely not!” Daisytoe mewed. “It’s bad enough that an apprentice has gone missing. We’ll be back soon.” She whisked around and Goosekit listened to the warriors thundering through the gorse. Their paw steps faded as they climbed the ravine and disappeared into the trees.

  Rabbitkit scrabbled crossly at the dried moss. “We totally could have helped!” he grumbled. “I’m nearly as big as the apprentices!”

  Heronkit nodded. “It would be just like playing hide-and-seek!”

  “Except we wouldn’t cheat,” mewed Rabbitkit, glaring at Goosekit.

  Goosekit wasn’t in the mood for defending himself again. When the others started to play a game of spot the ant at the far end of the den, he slipped through the brambles. The clearing was deserted except for Cloudberry dozing near the entrance and, tucked below Highrock, the black-and-white tom who had helped Goosekit find his denmates.

  Goosekit trotted over to him. “You’re an apprentice, aren’t you?” he asked.

  The tom stopped licking his chest fur and looked up. “That’s right.”

  “Why aren’t you looking for Swiftpaw? Can you go find her, please?”

  The black-and-white cat looked unsure. “I don’t think I can go by myself,” he mewed.

  A long-tailed warrior with brown striped fur padded past. “Hey!” the black-and-white cat called. “An apprentice has gone missing!”

  The warrior stopped and fixed clear amber eyes on Goosekit. “Which one?”

  “Swiftpaw,” Goosekit replied. “She’s got tabby-and-white fur and yellow eyes. Have you seen her?”

  “Quite small, carrying herbs?” meowed the brown tom.

  Goosekit nodded. “That’s her!”

  The warrior turned to walk away. “Oh yes, I saw her,” he purred. “She was just below Sunningrocks, in the reeds.”

  Goosekit started to call after him, but the sun was in his eyes and he couldn’t see where the warrior had gone. The clearing was starting to fill up with another returning patrol, and the ravine echoed with cries of alarm as Cloudberry
woke from her snooze and told them what had happened.

  Goosekit ran over to the warriors. Taking a deep breath, he stopped and stretched himself as tall as he could. “I know where Swiftpaw is!” he blurted out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Several heads turned toward him.

  “She’s in the reeds by Sunningrocks,” Goosekit went on.

  Larksong pricked her ears. Beside her, Hollypelt looked skeptical. “You’ve never even left the camp,” she meowed. “How do you know about the reeds beside Sunningrocks?”

  Goosekit pressed his paws into the solid earth. “A warrior told me he saw Swiftpaw there.”

  “Which warrior?” asked Larksong, looking around.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” Goosekit admitted. “He’s not here now.”

  Harepounce rolled her eyes. “Fancy that.”

  “I’m not lying!” Goosekit insisted, digging his claws into the earth in frustration.

  Larksong looked closely at him. Then she lifted her head. “We’ll need to check the whole territory,” she pointed out. “So we may as well start with Sunningrocks. Mumblefoot, Hollypelt, will you come with me?”

  “Because a kit said so?” Hollypelt mewed. “I don’t think so. Doestar and Pineheart will be back soon. I’ll wait for them to organize search patrols.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Mumblefoot meowed, padding over to Larksong. He glanced at Goosekit. “It would be a funny thing for a kit to make up, don’t you think?”

  Larksong nodded. She whisked around and plunged back into the gorse with the sturdy brown tom at her heels. More cats emerged into the clearing before the thorns stopped quivering. This patrol was led by Doestar and Pineheart. The ThunderClan leader’s face darkened as she heard about Swiftpaw. Hollypelt told her about the cats who had already gone out to search.

  Doestar turned to her deputy. “It sounds as if Snakerocks and the Thunderpath boundary have been covered. I want you to take a patrol to the treecutplace and along the border with Twolegplace.”

  Pineheart dipped his head. “We’ll go at once.” He summoned the three warriors standing closest to him with a flick of his tail, then led them into the tunnel at a run.

  Almost at once, Flashnose, Rooktail, and their patrol returned to the clearing. Their tails drooped, and Flashnose’s eyes were brimming. “We searched all the way to Snakerocks and back,” she murmured. “But there was no sign of her.”

  Doestar rested her cream-colored tail on Flashnose’s shoulder. “There are warriors spread through the whole forest,” she meowed. “We’ll find Swiftpaw, I promise.”

  Suddenly there was a crackle of branches, and a small, sodden figure draped in green slime stumbled out of the gorse.

  “Swiftpaw!” Flashnose screeched, flinging herself on her daughter.

  Larksong appeared behind Swiftpaw, her tortoiseshell coat dripping with bright green riverweed. “She was well and truly stuck!” the warrior reported. “Mumblefoot and I thought we’d never get her out of the reeds!”

  Mumblefoot joined them. His brown fur stood on end, and there was a piece of reed stuck behind one ear.

  “I hurt my leg,” Swiftpaw whimpered. “I was following a frog and I got all tangled up. I thought the river was going to swallow me!”

  “You’re safe now, my precious,” Flashnose purred. She lifted her head and gazed at Larksong and Mumblefoot. “Thank you for finding her! You saved her life!”

  Larksong curled her tail over her back. “It’s Goosekit you should thank. He told us where Swiftpaw had gone.”

  Flashnose tipped her head on one side. “How did you know? And why didn’t you tell us at once?”

  “A warrior told me,” Goosekit mewed. “A dark brown tom.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t Squirrelwhisker?” mewed Rooktail.

  Goosekit shook his head. “No! I know the difference between a tom and a she-cat!”

  Pineheart stood over him, looking stern. “There are no other dark brown warriors in ThunderClan, Goosekit. Who told you where Swiftpaw was?”

  Goosekit looked around, wishing the amber-eyed warrior would appear from the shadows. “I told you! I don’t know his name!”

  Daisytoe left her sister licking the slime from Swiftpaw’s fur and came over to stand beside Pineheart. “You have to tell the truth,” she meowed. “Have you been outside the camp on your own? Is that how you knew where Swiftpaw had gone?”

  “No!” Goosekit yowled. “I am telling the truth!”

  There was a faint scent of herbs as Cloudberry padded over. “I don’t think we need to make a fuss about it,” she rasped. “Swiftpaw is back, and that’s what matters. Daisytoe, go help Flashnose clean her up before I take a look at her leg. Goosekit, you come with me.”

  Feeling very small beside the ancient white medicine cat, Goosekit followed her to where Doestar was standing. The leader looked at them questioningly. “Is something wrong, Cloudberry?”

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Goosekit, I want you to describe the cat who told you where Swiftpaw was. Everything you can remember, from his nose to his claws.”

  “And you’re not going to be angry with me?” Goosekit checked.

  Cloudberry shook her head.

  Goosekit closed his eyes and pictured the brown-furred warrior. “He had long legs, but he wasn’t as tall as you, Doestar. His fur wasn’t as thick as Cloudberry’s, and his tabby stripes were really dark, almost black. Darker than Squirrelwhisker’s.” He opened his eyes and looked at the senior cats.

  Doestar was staring at Cloudberry. “He must be mistaken,” she murmured.

  Cloudberry shrugged. “You would think so.”

  “Do you think it’s a sign?” Doestar queried.

  “I can’t see how it could be,” Cloudberry meowed. She twitched her tail. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Doestar nodded. “I think you should.” She walked away to join the others.

  Cloudberry looked down at Goosekit. “That cat you saw. Has anyone ever described him to you before?”

  Goosekit shook his head.

  “And he didn’t tell you his name?”

  “No!” Goosekit was starting to feel frustrated. Why did it matter who had told him where Swiftpaw was, as long as the apprentice had been found?

  Cloudberry gazed around the clearing. “Are there any cats here now whose names you don’t know?”

  Goosekit shrugged. Was he going to get into trouble for not knowing the names of every one of his Clanmates? There were so many of them!

  “It’s okay if you don’t know,” Cloudberry urged him gently, as if she could tell what he was thinking.

  Goosekit narrowed his eyes against the bright sun. “Well . . . the black-and-white cat washing himself by the Highrock. I think he’s an apprentice. There’s an elder who tells great stories; I don’t know her name, but she often comes to see me in the nursery. She has brown fur and green eyes. And there’s a cat beside Nettlebreeze who I haven’t seen before.”

  Beside him, Cloudberry tensed. “Tell me about that cat,” she whispered.

  Goosekit wondered if Cloudberry was losing her sight. “She’s got pale orange fur, a white belly, and four white paws. She’s watching him as if he’s just a kit!” He purred with amusement at the thought of cranky, ancient Nettlebreeze ever being in the nursery.

  Cloudberry nudged Goosekit’s shoulder. “Let’s go ask Nettlebreeze her name.” She started to walk across the clearing. Goosekit trotted beside her, thinking it would be more polite to speak to the ginger cat directly.

  As they reached the elders’ den, Cloudberry hissed, “Let me do the talking.” She raised her voice. “Hello, Nettlebreeze. You look comfortable out here. Tell me, do you know a pale orange she-cat with a white belly and white paws?”

  The fur rose along Nettlebreeze’s spine. “That’s my mother, Dawnfeather,” he growled. “Why are you asking about her? Has she spoken to you from StarClan?”

  “StarClan?” Goosekit yelped. “But she’s right—”
/>
  Cloudberry clamped her tail over Goosekit’s mouth. “She asked me to tell you that she is watching over you, Nettlebreeze. All is well.”

  The old ginger tom grunted and put his chin on his paws. “It’s a nice thought, I’m sure,” he muttered, closing his rheumy eyes.

  Goosekit bounced on his toes as Cloudberry steered him across the clearing to her den. They plunged through the soft green ferns and entered the den beneath the broad expanse of rock.

  Cloudberry sat down and curled her tail over her paws. “You can talk now,” she puffed.

  “What’s going on?” Goosekit squeaked. “That orange she-cat was beside Nettlebreeze all the time! Why couldn’t he see her?”

  “Because she’s dead,” Cloudberry replied, fixing her yellow gaze on Goosekit. “She died many seasons ago, before I came to ThunderClan.” She shifted her bony haunches on the dusty ground. “The striped brown tom who told you where Swiftpaw was? I think that was Beetail. He was Oakstar’s deputy when I arrived. He was a great warrior, wise and kind.”

  “He . . . was?” Goosekit echoed. “You mean he’s dead too?”

  Cloudberry nodded. “As are the other cats you described, the black-and-white apprentice and the brown elder. I don’t know who they are. They must have lived in ThunderClan a long time ago. Only you can see them, no one else.”

  “That’s not fair!” Goosekit whimpered. “Why can I see all the dead cats?”

  “I don’t know,” Cloudberry admitted. “StarClan didn’t tell me.” She rolled a piece of moss under her paw until it crumbled. “You have a great gift, Goosekit,” she mewed softly, “but it is not one that all the cats will appreciate. You must keep it to yourself. Do you understand?”

  Goosekit put his head on one side. “But they might like to know that their ancestors are here in the camp!”

  There was a flash of temper in Cloudberry’s eyes. “It doesn’t work like that!” she spat. “Warriors are raised to be suspicious of anything that doesn’t come from the warrior code—and preferably from inside their own boundaries!”