A Warrior's Spirit

by Erin Hunter

  “Of course we do,” she mewed uneasily. “Hawkfrost, what’s going on?”

  Hawkfrost hesitated for a moment and then, as if he couldn’t stop the words bursting out of him, announced, “I put the moth wing outside Mudfur’s den.”

  Mothwing stiffened. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think for a few heartbeats, and then she croaked, “What?”

  “Shh,” Hawkfrost shushed her. “You were meant to be a medicine cat. Any cat could see it. But just because we weren’t born in the Clan, Mudfur insisted on waiting for some kind of sign. You already proved yourself, so why should we wait for something that might never happen?”

  “But . . .” Mothwing felt sick. Had her vision just been her imagination after all? “StarClan didn’t approve of me? I should tell Mudfur.”

  Hawkfrost moved closer and dropped his voice. “StarClan let it happen.” His breath was hot on her cheek. “If StarClan is real, they must think it’s okay. Maybe they don’t care. Or maybe they don’t exist.”

  “Maybe.” Mothwing felt like she was breaking into pieces. Maybe StarClan was just a story after all, and what she’d seen at the Moonstone had just been a dream.

  Surely they wouldn’t have let Hawkfrost do something so sneaky, if they were real? If StarClan was true, surely they wouldn’t have tortured her by making her wait so long—they would have told Mudfur yes or no themselves.

  “I should tell Mudfur,” she meowed again, feeling less sure.

  “But you won’t.” The clearing was lit by gray dawn light now, and Hawkfrost was watching her through pale, half-slitted eyes. “You know RiverClan will be better off with you as a medicine cat.”

  Mothwing took a deep breath. Hawkfrost was right. And if she told Mudfur, she’d lose everything. RiverClan would probably kick her and Hawkfrost both out for tricking them. She swallowed hard. Where would they go? All she wanted was to be a RiverClan medicine cat. Was that bad? Even if StarClan hadn’t picked her? Whether StarClan exists or not, she promised silently, I’ll be the best medicine cat I can.

  Chapter 4

  “Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen . . . ,” Mothwing murmured, carefully separating dock leaves with one claw.

  “Twenty-four,” Mudfur interrupted irritably, his voice weak. “You’ve counted every herb in this den five times.”

  “You’re the one who taught me to be thorough,” Mothwing told him. A cold breeze blew through the medicine den and she shivered. This leaf-fall had been bitterly cold, and it had been a while since she had been able to find any fresh herbs.

  “I didn’t teach you to do the same thing over and over,” Mudfur grumbled, more faintly than before. Mothwing ran a worried eye over him. The older medicine cat’s eyes were bleary and his meow was hoarse. Touching his side gently with one paw, she felt that his thin body was radiating heat.

  Mudfur’s sickness had come at exactly the wrong time. Terrible things were happening in the Clans’ territories. Twolegs had invaded the forest. They’d chopped down Fourtrees and brought monsters to dig up the earth. Prey had fled. The other Clans were talking about leaving the forest. What if we have to leave? How will Mudfur manage the journey?

  Young warriors from each Clan had disappeared and come back, including Stormfur from RiverClan, although his sister, Feathertail, had been killed on their journey. They said that StarClan had given them a prophecy: that a sign would tell the Clans where to go, when to leave. But the sign hadn’t come yet.

  RiverClan, protected by the river, had been safe from the Twolegs so far. Leopardstar had said they would stay where they were unless the Twolegs came onto RiverClan territory. But the river grew shallower by the day—more so than it had been during the terrible drought that summer, even though rain fell regularly—and no cat knew why. We might have to leave.

  Mudfur groaned and laid his head down on the side of his nest as if he was too tired to hold it up. His frail frame shook.

  “Is the pain very bad?” Mothwing asked. Mudfur moaned again, and she quickly mixed some poppy seeds with honey and feverfew leaves. The poppy seeds would help with the pain and the honey with the infection, while the feverfew leaves should cool him. “Try to eat this,” she mewed, lifting the mixture to his mouth, and Mudfur licked weakly at her paw.

  Mothwing watched as her mentor began to doze restlessly, his thin sides moving in shallow breaths. Please get better, she thought. I can’t do this on my own.

  She had only been an official medicine-cat apprentice for a few moons. She had memorized the uses of herbs and she had helped Mudfur care for injured paws and sick kits. She knew a lot already, but she didn’t know everything a medicine cat should.

  Maybe if StarClan had really chosen her . . .

  That’s ridiculous, she scolded herself. StarClan must be only a dream. If they were real, they never would have let Hawkfrost trick Mudfur.

  There wasn’t anything she cared about more than keeping her Clanmates strong and healthy. If that didn’t make her a true medicine cat, what would? But she wasn’t ready to do it alone.

  As night began to fall, Hawkfrost stuck his head into the medicine den. “I brought you a mouse,” he announced, with a nervous glance at dozing Mudfur.

  “Thanks,” Mothwing meowed. “I don’t want to leave him.”

  Hawkfrost dropped the mouse in front of her and then hesitated, shifting from one powerful paw to the other. “I was talking to Sasha at the edge of our territory,” he told her slowly.

  “Oh, good,” Mothwing replied. A few moons before, Sasha had been captured by Twolegs along with several Clan cats, including Mistyfoot. Some ThunderClan cats had gotten them all free, and Mistyfoot had invited Sasha to visit whenever she wanted. It had been wonderful to see their mother again, even though she wouldn’t stay. Couldn’t stay, not if she wanted to keep the secret that Tigerstar was their father. Too many ShadowClan cats knew that she and Tigerstar had been mates. If ShadowClan knew that Sasha was Mothwing and Hawkfrost’s mother, they might figure out their secret. But it was good to know Sasha was nearby. “Was she okay?”

  “Yeah . . . ,” Hawkfrost began, then looked down. “But Firestar and a couple of other ThunderClan cats saw us. They were coming onto RiverClan territory to talk to Leopardstar. Firestar asked if we were Tigerstar’s kits, and Sasha said yes.”

  “What?” Mothwing went cold. “Why would she admit it?”

  Hawkfrost hunched his shoulders. “The way he said it . . . he already knew. I look like Tigerstar, I guess. At least, I look like Brambleclaw. And every cat knows he’s Tigerstar’s son, but he was born in the Clans, so no cat worries about him.”

  “They would have found out eventually, I suppose,” Mothwing mewed dully. Hawkfrost and Brambleclaw did look a lot alike. “Do we have to leave?”

  RiverClan wouldn’t want Tigerstar’s kits, she was sure of it. They still talked about the cats he’d killed, the terrible things he’d done as he rose to power. They used his name to frighten naughty kits, as if he were a monster or a fox.

  “Maybe not.” Hawkfrost came closer and touched his nose to her cheek, gently. “I don’t think Firestar will tell any cat or let the cats he was with tell anyone. I think he’s known for a long time.”

  Mothwing’s belly was heavy with dread. “But if they do . . .”

  Hawkfrost extended his long claws, digging them into the ground. “I’m RiverClan’s strongest warrior,” he insisted. “If anyone tries to turn against us, they’ll be sorry.” Mudfur shifted restlessly in his sleep, and Hawkfrost glanced at him again. “I’d better go.”

  Mothwing nodded, distracted, as he left the medicine den. Everything was falling apart.

  A small sound came from Mudfur’s nest, and Mothwing looked up to see his eyes open and fixed on her. What if he heard? she thought, dismayed. Would he still want her as his apprentice, if he knew she was Tigerstar’s kit?

  “Mudfur?” she asked. The brown tom made a strange wheezing noise and tried to climb to his paws. He looked worried, not angry. He made it
halfway up and then fell back into his nest, gasping.

  “Mudfur!” Mothwing forgot about Hawkfrost and Tigerstar and ran to her mentor’s side. His eyes were fixed on hers, and he seemed to be struggling to speak, but only a thick gargling noise came out. “Where does it hurt?” she asked. “What do you need?”

  Mudfur gagged. A string of bile ran from the corner of his mouth and he panted, gasping for breath. Mothwing pressed her paw against his side, feeling how shallow his breathing was. “Help!” she called. “Help!”

  After what seemed like an endless moment, a pounding of paws came from outside, and Blackclaw and Swallowtail dashed into the medicine den. Blackclaw’s apprentice, Volepaw, was close on their tails. “Get Leopardstar!” Mothwing snapped at them, and Volepaw doubled back out of the entrance, running hard.

  A few heartbeats later, Leopardstar pushed her way between the warriors and stared down at Mudfur, horror in her amber eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Mudfur gagged again, his thin body trembling uncontrollably.

  “I don’t know,” Mothwing wailed. “He . . . he’s been ill and he just fell and can’t seem to catch his breath or talk. I’ve been giving him poppy seeds and feverfew and—”

  Leopardstar cut her off. “Will he recover?” Her meow was calm, but something in it reminded Mothwing that Mudfur was not only Leopardstar’s medicine cat, but her father. If Mudfur died, it would be a terrible blow to their leader.

  “I don’t know,” Mothwing repeated, feeling helpless. “I’ve been doing all I can, but . . . I might need advice from a more experienced medicine cat.” She felt ashamed. “Can I ask Cinderpelt for help?”

  Leopardstar nodded. “ThunderClan’s camp is at Sunningrocks now. Go as fast as you can. I will stay with Mudfur.”

  Outside, there was enough moonlight to guide Mothwing’s paws as she raced out of camp and toward the river’s edge. I’ll find Leafpaw first, she decided. She likes me, and she’s Firestar’s daughter. She’ll get him to let Cinderpelt come.

  She waded into the shallow river, heading for Sunningrocks on the other side. In the moonlight, she could see ThunderClan cats curled on the bare surface of the rocks, sleeping. They would be leaving the forest soon: their camp had been destroyed. There was nothing left for them here.

  What if Mudfur dies? Mothwing felt cold with dread and grief. Mudfur was old and sick; he might not survive. If the RiverClan medicine cat died, and the other Clans left, she would have to take care of RiverClan alone. I’m not ready.

  If she had been chosen by StarClan, maybe she would be ready by now. Maybe she would automatically know what to do. Mothwing splashed her paws a little more firmly through the water. She had been working hard. No cat would know more than she did after so little training. But the lingering thought remained, no matter how she tried to shake it away: If they’re real, StarClan is punishing me. But even if that was true, she couldn’t let Mudfur down. He’d had faith in her abilities and had suffered the Clan’s anger because of it. That was reason enough for her to stay and become the medicine cat Mudfur seemed so sure she could be. She would start by using everything he’d taught her to take care of him. Come what may, Mothwing resolved to make her mentor proud.

  Mudfur lay in the center of the medicine clearing, his sides barely moving with slow, shallow breaths. Rain ran through the branches above onto his flank, but he didn’t flinch or try to move away. Mothwing had tried to move him to his nest when the rain started, but he had whimpered like a hurt kit, and she hadn’t had the heart to keep trying.

  For a few sunrises after Cinderpelt and Leafpaw’s visit, Mudfur had rallied, getting back on his paws and moving slowly around the medicine den as Mothwing had fed him herbs to ease his pain and stave off infection.

  At the same time, things had been going from bad to worse in the territory outside their medicine den. WindClan was almost starving. The river had gotten lower and lower; the cats had discovered that the Twolegs had diverted the water away. When ShadowClan’s camp had been destroyed in front of the Clans’ eyes, Leopardstar had decided that it was too dangerous for even RiverClan to remain. All four Clans would leave together to find a new home.

  Or at least that had been the plan. But now Mudfur was dying. There was no way he could travel. We can’t leave him to die alone, Mothwing thought, stroking his side with her tail.

  Leopardstar came through the reeds and looked down at her father, her eyes clouded with grief. “How long?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mothwing told her. “Not long.”

  Leopardstar nodded. “I’ll tell the Clan. We’ll wait until the end. He’s served RiverClan well, and we should honor him.”

  As she left, Shadepelt came into the medicine clearing. “I wanted to say good-bye,” the dark gray elder meowed sadly. “Mudfur and I were kits together.” Sighing, she sat beside Mudfur and pressed her nose against his cheek.

  They sat together in silence, Mothwing comforted by Shadepelt’s steady presence. Mudfur’s breathing grew slower and slower. Mothwing had given him a last dose of poppy seeds at dawn, but now he was too far gone to swallow any more. It was just a matter of time.

  A little later, Runningnose, the ShadowClan medicine cat, came through the reeds into the clearing, Cinderpelt and Leafpaw trailing behind him.

  “Firestar is here,” Leafpaw told Mothwing. “And he’s brought Frostfur and Speckletail, our elders. They want to care for Mudfur when RiverClan leaves.”

  Mothwing shook her head. “They won’t need to. There’s nothing more any cat can do.” She looked down at Mudfur’s still form, her shoulders sinking. “At least he’s not in pain. I’ve made sure of that.”

  Runningnose stepped forward and pressed his muzzle to Mudfur’s shoulder. “Go swiftly to StarClan, my friend. We will look after your Clanmates.” Cinderpelt and Leafpaw buried their noses in Mudfur’s fur, their eyes closed.

  With one last shuddering gasp, Mudfur grew still. As the other cats pulled back, their faces full of grief, Mothwing closed Mudfur’s golden eyes for the last time with a gentle paw. “He’s with StarClan now,” she announced sadly, hoping it was true. He had believed he would be.

  She gasped as the thought of StarClan brought a new wave of panic. How could she take care of her Clan, if she didn’t even know if StarClan was real?

  Mothwing was confident that she could care for the health of her Clan, but Mudfur had been RiverClan’s connection to StarClan. Now the Clan would be turning to Mothwing to interpret StarClan’s wishes. How could she do any of this—her whole life—without her wise mentor? “How will I manage without him?” she asked. Her meow sounded harsh and frantic to her own ears.

  Cinderpelt nuzzled her. “You’ll be fine. And there will be time to grieve, but not now.”

  Mothwing looked around at the medicine cats, taking comfort in their sad, calm gazes—they believed Mudfur was in StarClan—and took a deep breath before padding back out to tell RiverClan that Mudfur was dead.

  As the cats wailed in grief and then began, one by one, to stream through the tunnel to pay their respects to Mudfur for the last time, Mothwing felt numb. She heard what was going on, but it was as if she were at a great distance from her Clanmates. Cold rain trickled through her fur, and Mothwing stared up at the gray morning sky. Was StarClan up there somewhere? Was Mudfur among them?

  Mothwing couldn’t make herself believe that Mudfur’s spirit had traveled anywhere. He was dead. Whatever was left of him was lying in the medicine den’s clearing. The elders would watch over all that remained of Mudfur.

  Hawkfrost, with Stormfur beside him, came over to Mothwing. Hawkfrost’s gaze was softer than Mothwing had seen in a long time, and he rested his muzzle on her head, giving her silent support. Mothwing closed her eyes, pressed her face into his fur, and breathed Hawkfrost’s familiar scent. He’s all I have left, she thought.

  Leafpaw came and spoke to her, but Mothwing barely heard her friend. When she lifted her head, she found Leafpaw and Cinderpe
lt gathering the remaining stores of herbs in the den, making sure nothing was left behind. “I can do that,” Mothwing offered weakly. “I want to help.”

  After all, even in the midst of their grief, every cat was doing their part to prepare for their journey—cleaning out dens and bundling up the remains of the prey. She needed to prepare too. But Cinderpelt and Leafpaw returned her gaze with sympathy in their eyes. “You’ve already done so much,” Cinderpelt mewed. “Let us help.”

  After a long moment, Mothwing nodded gratefully. She realized then that she was wrong. Hawkfrost was not all she had left. No cat would ever replace Mudfur, but she could turn to these medicine cats—they were from different Clans, but they were all healers, and that was more important. She felt the weight on her lighten with relief.

  Soon, every cat assembled in what had been the center of their camp while Leopardstar addressed them. She announced that Loudbelly and Shadepelt, as well as the ThunderClan elders, had decided to stay behind rather than travel to find an unknown territory. They would sit vigil over Mudfur while RiverClan left with the other Clans.

  At least he won’t be alone, thought Mothwing. Then, glancing from her brother to her fellow medicine cats, she added silently, And neither will I.

  “Are we ready?” Leopardstar asked the Clan. Mothwing opened her eyes and got to her paws. All around her, RiverClan was preparing, their tails high and their eyes determined, ready to go. She saw among them so many that Mudfur had treated and restored to health. But Mudfur was gone, and they would need Mothwing to take care of them through injury and illness on their journey and in their new home. I’m responsible for RiverClan now.

  “I have traveling herbs for us all, Leopardstar,” she said, her meow calm, and turned toward the medicine den.

  Hawkfrost stuck close to Mothwing, padding beside her as they left RiverClan’s territory for the last time. ThunderClan and ShadowClan were waiting for them at the edge of the forest. WindClan would meet them on the moor before they all left Clan territory entirely.