by Erin Hunter
“Cats had to die for unity and harmony?” Mothwing bristled. “All I see is StarClan’s numbers growing.”
“No cat ever has to die for things to get better,” Mudfur replied sadly. “But sometimes it seems to be the only way for the Clans to truly see their path.”
With a growl of frustration, Mothwing turned her back on him. But she could still hear Mudfur’s voice.
“After all this time not being able to reach StarClan, you’ll turn away from us now?”
Mothwing whipped back around, her tail bushed in anger. “You know the worst thing for any medicine cat is to see so many of her Clanmates suffering. Why can’t StarClan settle the battles between Clans without all this bloodshed? It’s like everything I do is useless.”
Mudfur brushed his tail along her back. “Don’t think that way. You’re a fine medicine cat.”
Mothwing scoffed. “I shouldn’t even be a medicine cat!” She aimed her words like claws at Mudfur and the other cats of StarClan. “Hawkfrost tricked you. He planted the moth’s wing outside your den.” Mudfur gazed at her, his calm expression unchanged. “Doesn’t that bother you? You made a mistake. I wasn’t the apprentice you wanted.”
Mudfur’s gaze softened. “I might have been deceived then, but StarClan wasn’t,” he assured her. “If I had to be tricked into taking you as an apprentice, I’m glad of it. You’ve done your duty for your Clan. StarClan makes no mistakes.”
Stepping away from her, Mudfur began to fade. Leopardstar, her pelt shimmering, led the rest of the StarClan cats out of camp. From Dapplenose’s body, a pale form—Dapplenose, young again—rose and followed.
As the cats around her burst into wondering chatter, Mothwing looked again at the injured lying on the ground. StarClan makes no mistakes? All the cats who had died—drowned kits like Tadpole, sick elders, cats who had died on the journey to their new territory or during the long drought, all the cats who had died in accidents or battle—was that meant to happen?
In the past, she had wondered how the other cats could believe in StarClan. Now she saw that life after death was real. But StarClan wasn’t the all-seeing force for good the other medicine cats seemed to think it was.
We can’t rely on our ancestors. We can only rely on one another. That was what she had learned today. Bending to pick up her bundle of herbs again, Mothwing was filled with a new sense of resolution. StarClan didn’t matter. She had Clanmates to care for.
Chapter 9
Mothwing padded beside the edge of the lake, her ears twitching as she took in the sounds of Twolegs playing in their water monsters and of black-headed gulls calling overhead. In her mouth she carried a fresh stock of catmint, picked from near the Twolegplace, and the sun warmed the fur of her back pleasantly. It was a good day.
Newleaf had come again, and, except for a few minor skirmishes over borders, the Clans had been at peace since their great battle with the Dark Forest. Maybe they would stay that way now that they had been allies in such a desperate struggle for survival. But Mothwing doubted it. Warriors loved to fight, and the Clans’ rivalry with one another tied Clanmates more securely together. Still, she would enjoy the peace while she could.
Hawkfrost had not been seen in Clan territory again, nor had any of the other Dark Forest cats. She had to assume that they had returned to the Dark Forest and that they wouldn’t be back.
The sun was beginning to journey down the sky when she crossed the stream that protected RiverClan’s camp.
“Quick! Get her inside!” A desperate yowl broke the calm, and Mothwing pricked up her ears in alarm. The voice—and a babble of softer, worried voices, she heard now—came from the entrance to RiverClan’s camp.
She dropped the catmint and began to run.
A patrol was bunched at the center of camp, their voices high with panic.
“It came out of nowhere!”
“Be careful with her.”
“We need a medicine cat. Where’s Mothwing? Where’s Willowshine?”
“Let me pass.” Mothwing pushed her way through the knot of warriors. Across the clearing, she saw Willowshine hurrying out of the medicine den. In the center of the group, supported between Icewing and Mallownose, Petalfur hung limply, her fur streaming with blood.
“Put her down,” Mothwing mewed. There was no time to take Petalfur into the medicine den; they had to treat her now. She had so many wounds. Some were little more than scratches, but dark red blood welled from worryingly deep punctures—bite marks—on her belly.
“It was a dog.” Mallownose’s voice shook as he gently lowered his mate to the ground. “It came out of nowhere. We all fought it off, but it grabbed Petalfur in its mouth. . . .” His voice trailed off, his eyes clouded with fear. “You have to save her.”
“She’ll be all right,” Mothwing reassured him, trying to assess which of Petalfur’s wounds were most serious. The she-cat’s eyes were open but dazed, and she didn’t seem to be hearing what was said around her. “Willowshine, bring me some cobwebs.”
Willowshine was quick, and the two medicine cats worked together, pressing the webs on the bites. The most important thing was to staunch the bleeding. But as she pressed down, more blood gushed out of Petalfur’s wounds, warm and thick, soaking Mothwing’s paws. Petalfur began to gasp—choking, panicked noises—and struggled, trying to rise.
“Mallownose, hold her down,” Mothwing ordered. Petalfur was in too much pain to understand that they were trying to help her.
“StarClan is watching over you,” Willowshine whispered comfortingly into Petalfur’s ear. “They’ll guide our paws, and we will keep you safe.”
Mothwing sighed to herself—why would StarClan help now, when they let so many cats die every season?—but Petalfur stilled as if Willowshine’s words had comforted her.
If believing that StarClan will help us makes Willowshine and Petalfur feel better, that’s fine, Mothwing thought. But I know we’re on our own.
It was hard to believe one small she-cat had so much blood in her. The cobwebs were soaked, and the pressure they were applying didn’t seem to be helping at all. Willowshine looked at Mothwing, her green eyes desperate. “She’s losing too much blood,” she mewed.
Mothwing’s heart was fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest, but she took a deep breath. I’ve been a medicine cat for a long time. Mudfur trained me well, and I’ve treated many cats since then. All those moons ago, she had begged to become a medicine cat, and she had never regretted it. This was her purpose.
“Let’s try horsetail,” she decided. “Run and get as much as we have. We’ve got to stop this bleeding.”
She concentrated on trying to hold the edges of Petalfur’s injuries together, hoping to slow the gushing blood, until Willowshine returned. Then she began to chew the bristly stemmed plant into a poultice as Willowshine cleared the cobwebs away from the bites.
She put the poultice on thickly, smearing it across the wounds until they were completely covered with the thick green paste. Slowly, the bleeding became a trickle. “Now the cobwebs,” she added, and she and Willowshine carefully wrapped them over the poultice.
Petalfur was still now, and she blinked her eyes, trying to focus on the worried faces around her. “What’s happening?” she asked, her voice faint. “Mallownose?”
“I’m here,” her mate meowed quickly.
“Let’s get her into the medicine den,” Willowshine ordered. “If you help me, Mallownose, we can take her there without reopening her wounds.” Mothwing watched as they lifted the wounded warrior gently to her paws and started toward the medicine den.
The circle of cats around them breathed in relief at last. “Thanks be to StarClan,” Mistystar mewed softly.
Mothwing stopped herself from flicking her tail in irritation. StarClan hadn’t guided her paws, or told her what herb to use. It was Mothwing and Willowshine’s training and skill that had saved Petalfur. For a moment, resentment snagged like a claw on her heart.
Then she shoo
k out her pelt and let her anger go. Whether StarClan had helped them or not, Petalfur would be healed, and that was what mattered. Calmly, she followed her patient toward the medicine den.
It had been the right decision to stay with Hawkfrost in RiverClan, all those moons ago. It had brought her the unity of a Clan. And it had been the right choice to ask Mudfur to train her.
This is exactly where I should be. I belong in the medicine den, and I belong in RiverClan.
Mothwing had a Clan, and she would save every cat she could.
Excerpt from Warriors: The Broken Code #1: Lost Stars
Chapter 1
Shadowpaw craned his neck over his back, straining to groom the hard-to-reach spot at the base of his tail. He had just managed to give his fur a few vigorous licks when he heard paw steps approaching. He looked up to see his father, Tigerstar, and his mother, Dovewing, their pelts brushing as they gazed down at him with pride and joy shining in their eyes.
“What is it?” he asked, sitting up and giving his pelt a shake.
“We just came to see you off,” Tigerstar responded, while Dovewing gave her son’s ears a quick, affectionate lick.
Shadowpaw’s fur prickled with embarrassment. Like I haven’t been to the Moonpool before, he thought. They’re still treating me as if I’m a kit in the nursery!
He was sure that his parents hadn’t made such a fuss when his littermates, Pouncestep and Lightleap, had been warrior apprentices. I guess it’s because I’m going to be a medicine cat. . . . Or maybe because of the seizures he’d had since he was a kit. He knew his parents still worried about him, even though it had been a while since his last upsetting vision. They’re probably hoping that with some training from the other medicine cats, I’ll learn to control my visions once and for all . . . and I can be normal.
Shadowpaw wanted that, too.
“The snow must be really deep up on the moors,” Dovewing mewed. “Make sure you watch where you’re putting your paws.”
Shadowpaw wriggled his shoulders, praying that none of his Clanmates were listening. “I will,” he promised, glancing toward the medicine cats’ den in the hope of seeing his mentor, Puddleshine, emerge. But there was no sign of him yet.
To his relief, Tigerstar gave Dovewing a nudge and they both moved off toward the Clan leader’s den. Shadowpaw rubbed one paw hastily across his face and bounded across the camp to see what was keeping Puddleshine.
Intent on finding his mentor, Shadowpaw barely noticed the patrol trekking toward the fresh-kill pile, prey dangling from their jaws. He skidded to a halt just in time to avoid colliding with Cloverfoot, the Clan deputy.
“Shadowpaw!” she exclaimed around the shrew she was carrying. “You nearly knocked me off my paws.”
“Sorry, Cloverfoot,” Shadowpaw meowed, dipping his head respectfully.
Cloverfoot let out a snort, half annoyed, half amused. “Apprentices!”
Shadowpaw tried to hide his irritation. He was an apprentice, yes, but an old one—medicine cat apprentices’ training lasted longer than warriors’. His littermates were full warriors already. But he knew his parents would want him to respect the deputy.
Cloverfoot padded on, followed by Strikestone, Yarrowleaf, and Blazefire. Though they were all carrying prey, they had only one or two pieces each, and what little they had managed to catch was undersized and scrawny.
“I can’t remember a leaf-bare as cold as this,” Yarrowleaf complained as she dropped a blackbird on the fresh-kill pile.
Strikestone nodded, shivering as he fluffed out his brown tabby pelt. “No wonder there’s no prey. They’re all hiding down their holes, and I can’t blame them.”
As Shadowpaw moved on, out of earshot, he couldn’t help noticing how pitifully small the fresh-kill pile was, and he tried to ignore his own growling belly. He could hardly remember his first leaf-bare, when he’d been a tiny kit, so he didn’t know if the older cats were right and the weather was unusually cold.
I only know I don’t like it, he grumbled to himself as he picked his way through the icy slush that covered the ground of the camp. My paws are so cold I think they’ll drop off. I can’t wait for newleaf!
Puddleshine ducked out of the entrance to the medicine cats’ den as Shadowpaw approached. “Good, you’re ready,” he meowed. “We’d better hurry, or we’ll be late.” As he led the way toward the camp entrance, he added, “I’ve been checking our herb stores, and they’re getting dangerously low.”
“We could search for more on the way back,” Shadowpaw suggested, his medicine-cat duties driving out his thoughts of cold and hunger. He always enjoyed working with Puddleshine to find, sort, and store the herbs. Treating cats with herbs made him feel calm and in control . . . the opposite of how he felt during his seizures and the accompanying visions.
“We can try,” Puddleshine sighed. “But what isn’t frostbitten will be covered with snow.” He glanced over his shoulder at Shadowpaw as the two cats headed out into the forest. “This is turning out to be a really bad leaf-bare. And it isn’t over yet, not by a long way.”
Excitement tingled through Shadowpaw from ears to tail-tip as he scrambled up the rocky slope toward the line of bushes that surrounded the Moonpool hollow. His worries over his seizures and the bitter leaf-bare faded; every hair on his pelt was bristling with anticipation of his meeting with the other medicine cats, and most of all with StarClan.
He might not be a full medicine cat yet, and he might not be fully in control of his visions . . . but he would still get to meet with his warrior ancestors. And from the rest of the medicine cats he would find out what was going on in the other Clans.
Standing at the top of the slope, waiting for Puddleshine to push his way through the bushes, Shadowpaw reflected on the last few moons. Things had been tense in ShadowClan as every cat settled into their new boundaries and grew used to sharing a border with SkyClan. Not long ago, SkyClan had lived separately from the other Clans, in a far-flung territory in a gorge. But StarClan had called SkyClan back to join the other Clans by the lake, because the Clans were stronger when all five were united. Still, SkyClan had needed its own territory, which had meant new borders for everyone, and it had taken time for the other Clans to accept them. Shadowpaw was relieved that things seemed more peaceful now; the brutally cold leaf-bare had given all the Clans more to worry about than quarreling with one another. They were even beginning to rely on one another, especially in sharing herbs when the cold weather had damaged so many of the plants they needed. Shadowpaw felt proud that they were all getting along, instead of battling one another for every piece of prey.
That wasn’t a great start to Tigerstar’s leadership. . . . I’m glad it’s over now!
“Are you going to stand out there all night?”
At the sound of Puddleshine’s voice from the other side of the bushes, Shadowpaw dived in among the branches, wincing as sharp twigs scraped along his pelt, and thrust himself out onto the ledge above the Moonpool. Opposite him, halfway up the rocky wall of the hollow, a trickle of water bubbled out from between two moss-covered boulders. The water fell down into the pool below, with a fitful glimmer as if the stars themselves were trapped inside it. The rippling surface of the pool shone silver with reflected moonlight.
Shadowpaw wanted to leap into the air with excitement at being back at the Moonpool, but he fought to hold on to some self-control, and padded down the spiral path to the water’s edge with all the dignity expected of a medicine cat. Awe welled up inside him as he felt his paws slip into the hollows made by cats countless seasons before.
Who were they? Where did they go? he wondered.
The two ThunderClan medicine cats were already sitting beside the pool. Shadowpaw guessed it was too cold to wait outside for everyone to arrive, as the medicine cats usually did. Alderheart was thoughtfully grooming his chest fur, while Jayfeather’s tail-tip twitched back and forth in irritation. He turned his blind blue gaze on Puddleshine and Shadowpaw as they reached the botto
m of the hollow.
“You took your time,” he snapped. “We’re wasting moonlight.”
Shadowpaw realized that Kestrelflight of WindClan and Mothwing and Willowshine, the two RiverClan medicine cats, were sitting just beyond the two from ThunderClan. The shadow of a rock had hidden them from him until now.
“Nice to see you, too, Jayfeather,” Puddleshine responded mildly. “I’m sorry if we’re late, but I don’t see Frecklewish or Fidgetflake, either.”
Jayfeather gave a disdainful sniff. “If they’re not here soon, we’ll start without them.”
Would Jayfeather really do that? Shadowpaw was still staring at the ThunderClan medicine cat, wondering, when a rustling from the top of the slope put him on alert. Looking up, he saw Frecklewish pushing her way through the bushes, followed closely by Fidgetflake.
“At last!” Jayfeather hissed.
He’s in a mood, Shadowpaw thought, then added to himself with a flicker of amusement, Nothing new there, then.
As the two SkyClan medicine cats padded down the slope, Shadowpaw noticed how thin and weary they both looked. For a heartbeat he wondered if there was anything wrong in SkyClan. Then he realized that he and the rest of the medicine cats looked just as skinny, just as worn out by the trials of leaf-bare.
Frecklewish dipped her head to her fellow medicine cats as she joined them beside the pool. “Greetings,” she mewed, her fatigue clear in her voice. “How is the prey running in your Clans?”
For a moment no cat replied, and Shadowpaw could sense their uneasiness. None of them wants to admit that their Clan is having problems.
Shadowpaw was surprised when Puddleshine, who was normally so pensive, was the first to speak up. Maybe the cold had banished his mentor’s reserve and enabled him to be honest.
