Twilight

by Erin Hunter

  “Go!” Russetfur bared her teeth. “Now!”

  Both kittypets backed away a couple of paces, then turned and fled for the nest. They scrambled over the wall and vanished into the garden. Squirrelflight heard the door of the nest open and a Twoleg voice raised in alarm.

  Russetfur twitched her tail and the combined patrol of ShadowClan and ThunderClan cats bounded back into the shadow of the pine trees, not stopping until they were within sight of the camp.

  “I’ll fetch Blackstar,” Russetfur meowed, slipping over the edge of the hollow.

  Tawnypelt padded over to Brambleclaw and pushed her nose into his fur. “Thanks. You were great—all of you,” she added, lifting her head.

  “It was a pleasure,” Brambleclaw purred. “Any time.”

  “Wasn’t that great?” Squirrelflight meowed. “I’ll never forget the look on those kittypets’ faces when they saw us coming. And Brambleclaw, you were in just the right place when I attacked that big brute. You were terrific!”

  The warmth welling up inside her turned to ice as Brambleclaw’s gaze swept over her from ears to tail-tip. “You fought well too,” he replied stiffly, as though he were paying a compliment to another cat’s apprentice.

  Squirrelflight sank her claws into the leaf mould and bit back an angry retort. She wasn’t going to quarrel with her Clanmate in front of the ShadowClan cats. But his coldness hurt more than any wound she had received in the battle.

  The bushes rustled in the hollow and Blackstar appeared. “Russetfur tells me you made the kittypets promise to leave us alone.”

  “You shouldn’t have any more trouble,” Brambleclaw meowed, “but if you do, let us know. We’ll be glad to help.”

  “Thank you.” Blackstar’s voice was cool. “But I think we’ll be able to manage for ourselves now.”

  His words were a dismissal. Brambleclaw didn’t try to change his mind. He gathered his cats together with a sweep of his tail and briefly touched noses with Tawnypelt. “Goodbye,” he mewed to Blackstar. “I expect we’ll meet at the next Gathering.” He turned and headed back towards ThunderClan territory, following the scent trail they had left on their way.

  Padding behind him, Squirrelflight felt dull anger slow her paws. The excitement was over; the brief feeling of closeness to Brambleclaw was over too. Why couldn’t they just be friends? This antagonism was such a waste, when the two of them fought so well together. Her belly twisted with pain that Brambleclaw could put aside old rivalry for the sake of ShadowClan, but not for her.

  “Fine. If that’s the way he wants it,” she muttered, too low for any cat to hear. “See if I care.”

  But her shoulders ached and her drooping tail brushed the pine needles as she followed her Clanmates back to the stone hollow.

  CHAPTER 13

  “I’ll be glad when newleaf comes,” Mothwing remarked, turning over her store of juniper berries with one paw. “We’re very short of herbs.”

  “It’s just as bad in ThunderClan,” Leafpool told her, touching her shoulder sympathetically with the tip of her tail. “This has been a long leaf-bare, and we don’t know the best places yet to find supplies. At least your cats are getting well now.”

  “Yes, thanks to you.” Mothwing let out a purr, then turned to Willowkit, who was standing just outside the medicine cat’s den, shifting from paw to paw. “Give two juniper berries to each cat—except for Minnowkit and Pebblekit. They can have one each. Can you remember what juniper is for?”

  The small grey kit paused with one paw raised, ready to snag a couple of berries on her claws. “Bellyache,” she began, eyes narrowed with the effort of remembering, “but they’re getting better, and their bellies aren’t aching anymore.” She hesitated, puzzled; then her eyes brightened. “Strength!” she mewed triumphantly. “You’re giving them juniper so they’ll get strong again.”

  “Very good!” Mothwing purred. She watched the young kit as she tottered away to give the juniper to Dawnflower. “She’s been such a help—and so have you, Leafpool. My Clanmates would have died without you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Leafpool meowed, embarrassed by her friend’s praise. “You knew what to treat them with all along.”

  Her third night in the RiverClan camp was drawing to an end. Dew glittered on every leaf and blade of grass in the slanting rays of the sun, and Leafpool was convinced it felt warmer than before. Newleaf could not be far off.

  No more RiverClan cats had fallen ill. Mistyfoot had organised the fittest warriors to clean up any traces of the silver-green liquid they found in and around the camp, while Hawkfrost had finished the barrier around the Twoleg thing and made sure every cat knew they had to avoid it.

  Meanwhile, all the remaining cats who had been poisoned by the sticky stuff were recovering. Heavystep had already returned to the elders’ den, while Minnowkit and Pebblekit were feeling well enough to get into mischief. They were down by the stream now, dabbing a paw into the water as if they were pretending to fish.

  “Stay away from the edge!” Mothwing called out. “I don’t have time to rescue you if you fall in.”

  The two kits glanced at each other and drew back a couple of pawsteps, then started to chase each other in a circle.

  “They’ll have to go back to the nursery,” Mothwing sighed. “Dawnflower isn’t really strong enough to look after them yet, but I’ll get Mosspelt to help her. They’ll only get into trouble if they stay here. I caught Minnowkit sniffing around my herb store yesterday.”

  Leafpool let out a mrrow of amusement. “You’d think they’d had enough bellyache without stuffing themselves with the wrong sort of herbs.”

  She stood up and gave herself a good long stretch. Along the bank of the stream the sick cats were stirring: Dawnflower had rolled onto her side to wash her belly fur, while Beechpaw was sitting up with his jaws parted in an enormous yawn. No cat looked uncomfortable or in pain.

  “It’s time I was leaving,” Leafpool meowed. “You don’t need me any more.”

  Mothwing nodded, although there was a flash of regret in her eyes. “It’s been great, having another medicine cat to work with. But I know you have to go home to your Clan.”

  “You’re leaving?” Willowkit bounced up to them to collect another dose of juniper berries. “We’ll miss you, Leafpool.” Hesitantly she added to Mothwing, “Will you still need me to help?”

  “Of course I will,” Mothwing reassured her.

  Willowkit’s tail pointed straight up and her eyes shone.

  Leafpool padded along the bank to say goodbye to those cats who were awake. When she returned to Mothwing’s den she saw that Leopardstar had appeared.

  “Mothwing tells me you’re leaving,” the RiverClan leader meowed. “The thanks of all RiverClan go with you, Leafpool.”

  Leafpool bowed her head. “Any medicine cat would have done the same.”

  “We won’t forget in a hurry,” Leopardstar told her. “Have a safe journey, and give my thanks to Firestar, too.”

  With a last goodbye to Mothwing, Leafpool followed the stream down to the lake, splashing through at a shallow spot and heading along the shore, past the tree bridge. She hoped Crowfeather hadn’t been too angry when she had broken her promise to meet him. She had forgotten about him on the first night in her desperate rush to help the sick cats, and on the next two nights she had been too exhausted. Besides, she hadn’t known if he would wait for her again, since she’d let him down the first time.

  When she reached WindClan territory she kept one eye on the moorland, half hoping to see his lean, grey-black shape racing towards her, yet half dreading it too. Maybe it was better to end it this way, letting him think she wasn’t interested.

  But the only WindClan cats she spotted were a patrol high up on the hillside; they were too far away for her to identify them, except to be sure none of them was Crowfeather. She felt as if she would recognise his sleek dark shape from the other side of the lake.

  As she approached the stone hollow, the
warm scent of ThunderClan cats surrounded her. A purr rose in her throat and she pushed her way eagerly through the thorn tunnel, glad to be home.

  Firestar was talking to Cloudtail close to the nursery entrance. “I can’t see Daisy ever becoming a warrior,” Leafpool heard him meow as she approached. “But sure, you can teach her some fighting moves. She needs to be able to defend herself and her kits if she’s going to live in the wild.”

  Cloudtail’s blue eyes gleamed. “She’ll be fine,” he promised, before vanishing into the brambles to tell her.

  Firestar shook his head doubtfully, then straightened up as he spotted Leafpool. “Welcome back,” he purred, touching her ear with his nose. “How are things in RiverClan?”

  “They were very bad when I first arrived. Twolegs left some sticky poisonous stuff on their territory.” Leafpool described what she had discovered, and how she had helped Mothwing care for the sick cats. “But they’ll be fine now,” she finished.

  “You’ve done well. I always knew you would be a brilliant medicine cat.” Her father dipped his head and licked her ears. “I’m very proud of you.”

  Leafpool’s pelt tingled with pleasure. “I’d better go and find Cinderpelt,” she mewed. “She must have been rushed off her paws without me to help her.”

  She bounded across the clearing and slipped behind the screen of brambles to Cinderpelt’s den. “Cinderpelt, I’m—”

  She skidded to a halt at the mouth of the den. Rainwhisker was lying on the sandy floor with one paw held out, while Brightheart vigorously licked his pad. “That’s better,” she meowed. “I should be able to get it out now.”

  There was a thorn sticking out of Rainwhisker’s pad. Carefully Brightheart gripped it in her teeth and pulled; it came away easily, followed by a spurt of bright blood.

  “That looks fine,” Brightheart murmured, nosing the thorn to make sure no scraps of it were left in the paw. “Give your paw a good lick, and you should be able to walk on it soon.”

  “Thanks, Brightheart,” Rainwhisker meowed.

  Every hair on Leafpool’s pelt bristled from shock. How many medicine cats did ThunderClan need? She knew Brightheart had offered to help Cinderpelt collect herbs while Leafpool was away, but Leafpool had never imagined she would start doing any of the other medicine cat tasks.

  Brightheart looked up. “Oh, Leafpool, you’re back.”

  Before Leafpool could reply, Cinderpelt emerged from her den with a mouthful of borage leaves. “Here you are, Brightheart,” she mewed, setting them down. “This should help Mousefur’s fever.”

  Brightheart sprang to her paws. “Thanks. I’ll take them to her right away.” Grabbing them in her jaws, she hurried across the camp to the elders’ den.

  Leafpool struggled with a pang of envy as sharp as a thorn. It looked like she wasn’t needed any more! Then she told herself to stop overreacting. She should have been grateful that Brightheart had made it possible for her to help RiverClan.

  A warm tongue rasped across her ear. “Welcome back,” Cinderpelt meowed. “Tell me all about what happened.”

  As Leafpool sat down, tail wrapped neatly over her paws, she tried to put Brightheart out of her mind. Helping with one thorn and a few herbs didn’t make a medicine cat.

  I’m home now, and everything will soon be back to normal.

  When she had finished reporting to Cinderpelt, she padded off to the fresh-kill pile for something to eat; her belly was yowling, because she hadn’t had so much as a sniff of food since she left RiverClan. She was about to sink her teeth into a plump vole when Squirrelflight and Ashfur appeared, their jaws full of fresh-kill.

  “Hi,” Squirrelflight meowed, dropping her load on the pile. “It’s great to see you again. You’ll never guess what happened while you were away!”

  “What?” Squirrelflight’s eyes were gleaming with satisfaction, so it couldn’t be anything bad.

  Ashfur brushed his nose against Squirrelflight’s fur. “You tell Leafpool all about it,” he mewed. “I’ll go back and collect that last squirrel you caught.”

  “Thanks.” Squirrelflight flicked her ears at him. “See you later.”

  While she listened with half an ear to Squirrelflight telling her about the kittypets in ShadowClan territory, another pang of envy sank its claws into Leafpool. Her sister and Ashfur were getting along so well together, working as a team, sleeping side by side in the warriors’ den. Why couldn’t she share anything like that with Crowfeather? Because you’re a medicine cat, she reminded herself. She had no right to be in love, even if Crowfeather had been a ThunderClan cat. There was no hope that they could be together.

  “Are you OK?” Squirrelflight broke off what she was saying to look at Leafpool with concern. “Everything’s all right in RiverClan, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine now.” Leafpool longed to pour out her problems to her sister, but she couldn’t take any cat into her confidence. Instead, she forced herself to sit and eat her vole, and make all the right admiring comments about the raid on the kittypets.

  Oh StarClan, she sighed, why does your way have to be so difficult?

  Leafpool was still feeling confused as the sun went down, but when she curled up in her nest outside Cinderpelt’s den, she fell asleep almost at once. She found herself padding through deep woods, the kind of place where she had often walked with warriors of StarClan.

  “Spottedleaf?” she called. She was desperate to speak with her, to make sure her warrior ancestors weren’t punishing her for thinking about Crowfeather. “Are you there?”

  But there was no trace of the medicine cat’s sweet scent. Clumps of fern arched above her, and when she looked up for a glimpse of the starry warriors overhead, massive branches blocked her view of the sky. They shifted with a desolate creaking sound; the wind that stirred them probed her pelt with icy claws.

  “Where are you?” Panic surged through her. “Spottedleaf, Feathertail, don’t leave me alone!”

  She remembered her dream at the Moonpool, when she had been unable to work out what her warrior ancestors were saying. She knew instinctively that they were not here now. Perhaps she had lost them forever. She began to run, scrambling over gnarled roots and forcing her way through thorn thickets.

  At last Leafpool spotted a faint light through the trees. She veered towards it until she halted, gasping for breath, at the edge of a clearing. Light filtered down, but it seemed grey and sickly, not like the silver blaze of the stars she was used to. It lay heavily on a thick covering of dead leaves and clumps of fungus that glowed with a light of their own.

  In the centre of the clearing a grey rock pushed up at an angle out of the leaf-mould. A massive tabby tom crouched there, his paws tucked under him and his gaze fixed intently on two cats who sat at the base of the rock, their faces turned towards him.

  Leafpool let out a gasp, so loud she was sure the three cats must have heard her, and shrank back fearfully against the nearest tree trunk. She recognised the two cats on the ground instantly: one was her Clanmate Brambleclaw, the other his half-brother, Hawkfrost. And that meant she could put a name to the huge tabby on the rock, who looked so much like both of them.

  He must be their father, Tigerstar!

  CHAPTER 14

  Shivering, Leafpool peered out into the clearing. If Tigerstar looked up, she felt as if his amber gaze could have burned away the tree trunk to reveal her cowering behind it. Instead, his eyes were fixed on his sons. But this was a dream! Had Tigerstar called them to him as they slept, in the same way that medicine cats walked in dreams with StarClan? He had brought them somewhere Leafpool had never been before, a place of endless night where living cats never set paw. Even StarClan, she guessed, had never breathed the dank airs of this forest, or padded through its sickly light.

  “Courage matters more than anything,” Tigerstar was saying. “Remember that, when you are leaders.”

  Hawkfrost meowed something that Leafpool didn’t catch; Tigerstar twitched his tail impati
ently.

  “Of course courage in battle is important,” he rasped, “but I’m talking about courage in the way you deal with your own Clan. They must accept your orders, and if they question you, back up your decisions with tooth and claw.”

  Leafpool’s eyes stretched wide in disbelief. Firestar had never attacked a member of his Clan, even if they disagreed with him.

  “Weakness is dangerous,” the huge tabby continued. “You must hide your doubts—or better still, don’t have doubts at all. You must always be certain that what you are doing is right.”

  Was that how Tigerstar had felt, Leafpool wondered, when he had murdered Redtail and plotted the murder of Bluestar so that he could be Clan leader? When he led the dog pack to the ThunderClan camp to gain revenge, and brought BloodClan into the forest to help him force the other Clans into submission—had he been completely sure that he was right?

  Hawkfrost’s ice-blue eyes were fixed on his father; he was obviously drinking in every word. Brambleclaw had his back to Leafpool so she couldn’t see his expression, but his ears were pricked. Icy claws gripped her heart. Tigerstar was training his sons, like a warrior preparing an apprentice for battle! He was trying to turn them into the kind of murderous tyrant he had been.

  “But how do we become leaders?” Brambleclaw asked. “I don’t think Firestar will ever make me his deputy. I haven’t even had an apprentice yet.”

  The fur on Tigerstar’s shoulders bristled. “When you hunt, do you expect the mice to leap into your jaws?” he hissed. “No. You scent your prey, you stalk it, and then you pounce. It’s the same with power. It won’t come to you unless you seek it.”

  Brambleclaw muttered something, and Leafpool saw Tigerstar’s neck fur lie flat again.

  “Don’t worry,” he meowed. “Both of you have the true spirit of warriors. I know you will succeed if you follow my pawsteps closely.”