by Erin Hunter
Breezepelt crouched down. Lionblaze could see his muscles bunching beneath his pelt, ready for another attack.
“Stop!” Leafpool shot between them.
Breezepelt’s lunge hit her square in the side. His claws tore her pelt as he dragged her to the ground. Another jet of blood sprayed the snow. Lionblaze stared in shock. Before he could reach for Breezepelt, Crowfeather had crossed the ditch and hauled his son off Leafpool.
He tossed him aside like prey and leaned over Leafpool. “You chose your Clan, remember?” he hissed.
She stared up at him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you.”
Crowfeather’s eyes flashed with pain. “Maybe you did,” he growled. “But it wasn’t enough, was it?”
“Get away from her!” Nightcloud had crossed the ditch. She sank her claws into Crowfeather’s pelt and dragged him away from Leafpool.
Crowfeather turned on his mate, hissing. Breezepelt darted between them with a wail of protest. Lionblaze felt sick. He’s my brother. How can I fight my brother?
Breezepelt faced his father, tail bushed, lips drawn back. “Leave my mother alone.” The thrush had been forgotten. This was about a different kind of blood now, the sort that flowed in a cat’s veins, binding him to another.
Lionblaze shook his head, making his ears flap. These cats aren’t my kin. A few paces away, Leafpool heaved herself to her paws. Lionblaze glared at her. It’s her fault. She made this mess. Yet her eyes were shot with grief, and he suddenly felt her pain as though it were his own. She has suffered more than any of us.
Crowfeather, growling, turned away from Breezepelt and jumped the ditch back onto WindClan territory. “Come on,” he snarled. “If ThunderClan is going to starve without that puny bird, let them have it.” Breezepelt slunk after him, leaving a thin trail of blood in the snow.
Lionblaze fluffed out his fur. He hadn’t felt a scratch. Should he stop fighting Clan cats? It’s cheating. Dovepaw’s words echoed in his mind. Perhaps he should save his powers for the Dark Forest warriors.
Nightcloud leaped the ditch, then paused and turned back. “Next time we’ll shred you!” she spat.
Dovepaw darted forward. “Breezepelt started it!”
“Hush.” Cinderheart guided her away from the border, murmuring to Lionblaze as she passed, “Perhaps you shouldn’t have fought him.”
Dovepaw’s ears pricked. “Why not?”
Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Have you caught anything yet?” he asked his apprentice pointedly.
Dovepaw flicked her tail. “Not yet.”
“Then start hunting.” Lionblaze watched Dovepaw stamp away, then turned to Leafpool. “You should go back to the camp and get Jayfeather to look at your wounds,” he ordered. Leafpool dragged her gaze from the border and nodded.
Lionblaze waited till the two cats had disappeared past the brambles. “Why are you worried about a WindClan cat?” he hissed to Cinderheart.
“You could’ve really hurt him!”
Do you think I don’t know that? “I know what I’m doing!” he growled. “Stop treating me like a two-headed fox!”
Cinderheart stared at her paws. “Well, excuse me for not knowing how to handle this,” she muttered. “You’re the one who changed everything.”
Lionblaze stared at her. Tiredness swamped him like a black wave. “No,” he sighed. “This was all decided long before I was born.” He turned away. “Let’s hunt and go home. The Clan is hungry.”
Lionblaze stood back while Graystripe circled the fresh-kill pile, licking his lips. They’d brought back two rabbits, the thrush, and a grouse.
“We should hunt on the WindClan border more often,” the gray warrior purred.
Berrynose’s mouth fell open. “It looks like a pile again!”
Lionblaze stared across the clearing. The good day’s hunting hadn’t eased the pain in his heart. Cinderheart hadn’t even looked at him since they’d talked, and Leafpool had hardly spoken to anyone. He watched Sandstorm coughing. The ginger she-cat was crouched beside the halfrock with Firestar. Brightheart was with them. “She should see Jayfeather,” she meowed.
“Really, it’s just snowflakes,” Sandstorm insisted.
Brightheart circled her. “We’re all breathing in snowflakes,” she fretted. “You’re the only one coughing.”
Firestar sniffed her. “Perhaps Jayfeather should check you out.”
Brightheart nodded. “It sounds like whitecough.” Firestar flashed the one-eyed warrior a sharp look. Brightheart twitched her tail. “If it is whitecough, we need to know.”
Firestar leaned forward. “Keep your voice down!” Clearly he didn’t want the Clan worried.
“I’m going to fetch Jayfeather,” Brightheart decided. She hurried away to the medicine den.
“Well done, Lionblaze.” Brambleclaw sniffed the fresh-kill pile. “Poppyfrost should eat first, and the kits.”
“Briarlight will need some too,” Millie added.
Lionblaze rolled a rabbit distractedly with his paw. “There’ll be enough for everyone.”
Jayfeather was following Brightheart from his den. He stopped beside Sandstorm and leaned over her.
Lionblaze broke away from his Clanmates. “Is it whitecough?” he asked softly as he neared his brother.
“Shhh!” Jayfeather pressed his ear closer to Sandstorm’s flank. His tail quivered. “She’ll need rest.” He straightened. “And keep her warm.”
Brightheart shifted her paws. “So it is whitecough.”
“It may be.” Jayfeather touched Sandstorm’s ear with a pad. “I’ll see if there’s any feverfew left.”
Lionblaze sat down. It was early in leaf-bare for whitecough. What if it spread? A flash of tabby pelt caught his eye. Leafpool was hurrying toward her mother.
“Sandstorm, what’s wrong?” Leafpool bent to sniff Sandstorm’s breath and looked up at Jayfeather. “We need tansy. I’ll go and find some.”
“It’s getting late.” Firestar rested his tail on Leafpool’s spine. “Why not wait till morning?”
“And where are you going to find tansy?” Brightheart shook her head in despair. “We’ve been scouring the forest for days.”
“There’s some in your herb patch beside the Twoleg nest,” Lionblaze offered.
Jayfeather stiffened.
Leafpool shook off Firestar’s tail. “I’ll fetch it!”
“It’s too delicate,” Jayfeather snapped. “If we pick it now, it may kill off the roots, and we’ll lose the whole plant.”
Leafpool snapped her head around to stare at him. “And if we don’t, Sandstorm might get worse!”
“She’s strong,” Jayfeather countered. “She may not need tansy. I don’t want to risk it.”
“Risk what?” Leafpool challenged. “The tansy or Sandstorm’s life?”
Firestar stepped forward. “It hasn’t come to that yet.”
Jayfeather kept his blind gaze fixed on Leafpool. “I’ll decide when to use the tansy,” he growled. “I’m the medicine cat.”
Lionblaze tensed in the chilly silence. Snow creaked beneath his paws.
“Very well,” Leafpool meowed at last. “I’ll find some in the forest.” She turned and stalked away.
“Wait till the morning!” Firestar called.
Leafpool hesitated, then stalked to the warriors’ den and disappeared inside.
“Was there any sign of intruders on the border?”
“What?” Lionblaze looked up and saw Firestar staring at him. He’d forgotten to report the skirmish. “We met a WindClan patrol.”
Firestar’s eyes narrowed. “Did they cross the border?”
Lionblaze felt a rush of confusion. Yes, but only because he’d taunted his half brother. How would he explain that? “There was a small argument about a piece of prey that crossed the border,” he meowed at last. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Who won the prey?” Firestar asked.
“I did.”
Sandstorm started cough
ing again. Firestar wrapped his tail around his mate. “These disputes are bound to happen,” he meowed before turning his attention to Sandstorm.
If only it were that simple! Lionblaze closed his eyes. Today’s fight hadn’t been about prey, or hunger, or hunting rights. The tangling of relationships between the two Clans had caused the skirmish. It had poisoned feelings, not just between Clans but between Clanmates, weakening the Clan from within as cat turned against cat.
Perhaps Yellowfang was right. Perhaps each Clan should stand alone. When faced with such a treacherous enemy, they couldn’t risk letting anything distract them from the final battle.
Chapter 19
The roof of the elders’ den creaked under the weight of snow. Jayfeather winced. “I hope it holds,” he muttered.
“The old den would have been flattened.” Beside him, Purdy’s fur brushed against bark. “But now, with the honeysuckle woven around the beech branches, this den is strong enough to hold off a hollowful of snow.”
Mousefur turned in her nest. “It’s the thaw I’m not looking forward to. At least the snow is dry now. When it starts dripping through the roof—”
Purdy cut her off. “When the thaw comes, you’ll get wet. Like you do every leaf-bare.” His tail swished. “Cats that live wild get wet. Not even your StarClan can change that.”
Jayfeather touched his muzzle to Mousefur’s. “Hold still,” he ordered as she pulled away. He smelled her breath. It wasn’t sour, and her nose was cool. He listened to her chest, unsure whether the wheezing was infection or just age. Yet it was sunhigh, and the old she-cat was still in her nest. “Are you sure you don’t have a sore throat?” he asked again.
“I’m sure,” Mousefur grunted.
“Any aching in your joints?”
“Only the usual.”
Jayfeather frowned. Why had she refused to play moss-ball with Molekit this morning? He turned to Purdy. “Let me know if she starts coughing.”
“I’ll fetch you myself,” the old loner promised.
Jayfeather nosed his way through the honeysuckle tendrils, shivering as his paws touched snow in the clearing. The big catch Lionblaze’s patrol had made had fed the Clan for days, but now the fresh-kill pile was pitifully empty, and Sandstorm’s whitecough was beginning to spread. First, Jayfeather had confined Bumblestripe to his nest after coughing and fever gripped the young warrior during the night. Then Poppyfrost had sent Blossomfall to the medicine den.
“She says Cherrykit’s got a fever,” Blossomfall had told him.
“Tell her I’ll come as soon as I’ve checked on Mousefur.”
As Thornclaw led his patrol out of camp, Jayfeather headed for the nursery, praying that Poppyfrost was just being overanxious. Rasping breath caught his ear. He paused. “Is that you, Mousewhisker?”
“Yes,” the warrior croaked from the edge of the clearing.
“Get to your nest and stay there.” Jayfeather crossed the clearing, not waiting for the warrior to object. There was no time for argument. The infection was spreading. He’d moved Sandstorm to the medicine den. She couldn’t stay with Firestar. ThunderClan needed its leader to be healthy. Jayfeather sent a silent prayer to StarClan. Please don’t let Briarlight catch it.
“Jayfeather!” Poppyfrost’s mew sounded from the entrance to the nursery. As the warmth of the den surrounded him, tiny claws bit into his back.
“Get off him, Molekit!” Daisy’s stern mew sounded from her nest.
Molekit slid down Jayfeather’s back. “Just practicing my attack pounce!”
Poppyfrost bustled past Jayfeather. “Go and practice outside,” she told the young kit.
“Can Cherrykit come?” he mewed.
Jayfeather cuffed him gently with a soft paw. “Maybe later. I need to check her first.”
As Molekit tumbled out of the den, Poppyfrost put her mouth against Jayfeather’s ear. “She feels hot,” she murmured.
Jayfeather leaned into the nest and touched Cherrykit’s small muzzle with his own. “She is a bit warm.” He pressed an ear to her chest. “Her breathing is clear, though.”
“I feel fine,” Cherrykit squeaked. “Can I go and play with Molekit?”
“Does she need herbs?” Poppyfrost’s mew was tight with worry.
“Not yet.” Jayfeather wanted to preserve his small supply for as long as possible. “Send her out to play in the snow with Molekit.”
Poppyfrost gasped. “Outside?”
“The best thing you can do is to keep her cool,” Jayfeather advised. “The snow will do that as long as her breathing is clear.” He nosed Cherrykit out of the nest. “If you start to feel sick,” he told the kit, “come inside and rest.” He turned to Poppyfrost. “Call me if she starts to cough or wheeze.”
Jayfeather slid out of the nursery and headed back to his den to check on Sandstorm. “How are you?” he meowed as he leaned into the orange warrior’s makeshift nest.
“I’ve felt better,” Sandstorm admitted.
Jayfeather touched a pad to her ears, worried to find them hotter than ever. He turned away from the nest and began pulling herbs from his store. There must be more feverfew somewhere. His chest tightened as he felt the dried leaves and sniffed. Nothing good for coughs.
The brambles rustled, and a fresh tang filled the air. Yarrow?
“You forgot to bring these in.” Rosepetal’s muffled mew sounded at the den entrance. Leaves thumped gently on the floor. It is yarrow! Yarrow never survived the first frost.
Jayfeather hurried over to sniff the pile of leaves. “Where did you find these?” There might be other herbs nearby.
“They were lying outside the camp, near the thorns,” Rosepetal mewed. “I thought you’d dropped them.”
Jayfeather frowned. “Not me.”
“Well, someone did.” Rosepetal’s paw brushed the yarrow, and bitter scent drifted up. “Perhaps it was Leafpool,” she suggested.
“Maybe.” Leafpool had been scouring the forest for days. She was so tired that it was possible she had dropped some leaves and forgotten about them. “I’ll go thank her.” Jayfeather brushed past Rosepetal and pushed through the brambles.
Leafpool was tumbling with the kits outside the nursery. Her pelt smelled of the forest, but there was no scent of yarrow on her.
Jayfeather crossed the clearing. “Thanks!” he called.
Leafpool paused. “Thanks?”
“For the herbs.”
“What herbs?”
“The yarrow leaves,” Jayfeather explained. “Rosepetal found them outside the camp. We figured you’d picked them and dropped them there.”
“It wasn’t me.” Leafpool’s tail-tip brushed the snow as she walked toward him. “Maybe it was one of the other cats?”
Jayfeather twisted and called toward his den. “Rosepetal?”
The young cat came bounding out. “What?”
“Show me where you found the yarrow.”
He followed Rosepetal through the thorn barrier. “Here,” she announced, stopping in the narrow clearing outside, between the hollow and the trees.
Jayfeather sniffed the ground. No scent of any cat. Just yarrow and snow.
“Perhaps a warrior found leaves and hoped they’d be useful,” Rosepetal suggested. “They may have been on patrol and planned to tell you later.”
“Maybe.” Jayfeather shrugged. “If no one mentions it, I’ll ask Firestar to thank whoever found it at the next Clan meeting.” Pushing his curiosity aside, he headed back into the hollow.
“Jayfeather!”
Thornclaw’s yowl made him stop. “What is it?” Jayfeather tasted the air. “Mothwing, is that you?” Thornclaw and Spiderleg were accompanying the RiverClan medicine cat down the slope to the hollow.
“We found her by the shore,” Thornclaw reported. “She wants to speak with you.”
Mothwing snorted and broke away from her escort. “Thanks for your company,” she muttered. “I think I could have found my own way here.”
Spider
leg’s pelt sparked. “We were just trying to help.”
Jayfeather flicked his tail. “I’m sure she’s grateful.” He padded past the warrior, nudging Mothwing along with him. “Let’s go to the lake. My den is full.”
“Sickness?” Mothwing followed him up the slope.
“Whitecough.” Jayfeather wrinkled his nose at the scent of fish on her breath. “Only Sandstorm so far, but possibly three more.”
As Mothwing sighed, he wondered if he should warn her that StarClan was trying to divide the Clans. After all, she had no connection with StarClan. They had no power over her. But he couldn’t forget Yellowfang’s words. Or his vision.
“How’s Briarlight?” Mothwing asked.
“She’s shaken off the infection.”
“Good.”
“Her forepaws are as strong as any warrior,” Jayfeather went on. “They’ll be stronger if she keeps on with her exercises.”
“It’s going to be a long hard path for her,” Mothwing warned.
“Once it becomes the only path she knows, it won’t seem so hard.” The lake breeze stung Jayfeather’s nose as he reached the crest of the slope. He hurried on, breaking from the trees and bounding down the snowy slope. He wanted to stay a few paw steps ahead of Mothwing. It was too easy to fall into the old bond of friendship.
He plunged down the bank, shocked as snow swallowed him up. It had piled along the shore, and he coughed as it shot up his nose. Sneezing, he struggled toward the water’s frozen edge until he was free of the drift. “I wish it would thaw,” he spluttered to Mothwing.
She lumbered through the snow and settled beside him. “It’s just getting colder,” she observed. “We’re having trouble stopping the kits from playing on the ice. I had to treat three sprained paws yesterday.”
Has she just come to gossip about kits? Jayfeather let his thoughts drift into hers.
Her mind seemed empty. He was wasting his time. “What do you want?” he snapped. “I don’t have all day.”
A purr rolled in her throat. “Blunt as ever.” She pawed at the snow, then lowered her voice. “Willowshine told me that StarClan has ordered us to stop talking to the other medicine cats.”
