by Erin Hunter
“Cats are dying!” Leafpool thrust her muzzle closer to his. “You’re a medicine cat. How can you sit back and let that happen?”
“Onestar blames ShadowClan for Furzepelt’s death and for losing a life,” Kestrelflight lowered his gaze.
“You know that’s nonsense!” Leafpool exclaimed.
Alderpaw could hardly believe his ears. “The rogues killed Furzepelt, not ShadowClan!”
“But ShadowClan hasn’t retaliated,” Kestrelflight argued. “Onestar thinks ShadowClan is defending the rogues.”
“What else can they do?” Leafpool’s tail whisked over the sandy floor of the den. “So many of their apprentices left to live with the rogues. Would Onestar attack his own cats?”
“He would if they betrayed their Clan,” Kestrelflight answered grimly.
Leafpool flexed her claws. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Why should we care who attacks who? We’re medicine cats. Our duty is to heal. We need lungwort, not just to bring Twigpaw home, but because ShadowClan cats will die without it.”
She was staring deep into Kestrelflight’s eyes. Alderpaw willed the WindClan medicine cat to agree.
Kestrelflight’s pelt prickled uneasily. “You will have to ask Onestar.”
Dread dropped like a stone in Alderpaw’s belly. He didn’t want to face the angry WindClan leader. He’d seen him raging at the Gatherings. And if Onestar’s own Clanmates feared him, how would he react to unwelcome visitors?
“Come on.” Kestrelflight slipped past them and nosed his way out of the den.
Alderpaw blinked nervously at Leafpool. “Do you think we’ll be able to persuade him?”
“We have to try.” Leafpool followed Kestrelflight into the clearing.
Belly hollow with fear, Alderpaw hurried after her.
Onestar was pacing the head of the clearing as Alderpaw emerged from the gorse den. The WindClan leader’s furious gaze tracked Leafpool and Kestrelflight as they approached him.
Alderpaw trailed behind, his paws as heavy as stone.
Onestar curled his lip, his gaze flashing toward Alderpaw. “You’ve brought Bramblestar’s kit,” he snarled. “Was Bramblestar too mouse-hearted to come himself?”
Outrage surged in Alderpaw’s chest. “Nothing scares Bramblestar!”
“Perhaps he’s just too proud.” Scorn laced Onestar’s mew. “I assume you’ve come to beg for lungwort. Has ShadowClan been whining in his ear?”
Alderpaw faced the WindClan leader, trying to stop his paws from shaking. “ShadowClan is holding Twigpaw hostage until you give them the lungwort.”
He felt Leafpool’s warning gaze flashed toward him. Had he said too much?
Onestar drew himself up, eyes blazing. “Typical ShadowClan. If they can’t get what they want fairly, they resort to sly tricks.”
“They’ve promised not to hurt her,” Alderpaw blurted, hoping to smooth over his mistake. He didn’t want to make Onestar hate ShadowClan more.
Onestar sniffed. “Then why are you worried? Let her stay with them. She has a sister in their Clan, doesn’t she? Perhaps she’ll enjoy living there.”
Leafpool stepped forward. “Twigpaw is not the issue. We miss her, of course, but if Rowanstar has promised not to hurt her, he will not hurt her. He will keep his promise.”
Onestar’s ears flattened. “Just as he’s kept his promise to the rogues.”
Alderpaw’s tail twitched with anger. Onestar was being so unreasonable! “He’s promised nothing to the rogues!”
“Then why are they still here?” Onestar glared at Alderpaw.
Alderpaw groped desperately for a reply, but the WindClan leader went on.
“ShadowClan allowed them to stay near their territory.” His mew rose to an angry yowl. “They paid for this foolishness by losing some of their best apprentices. When the so-called ‘special’ kit returned, they took her back in, and now she lives among them—giving who knows what information to her rogue friends! They are weak and foolish! They deserve no help. They don’t even deserve the name of Clan cats. They are no more than rogues themselves. Let them keep Twigpaw. Let them die of sickness. I will not be tricked or bullied into helping them. They deserve everything StarClan has brought upon them.”
Alderpaw stared into Onestar’s wild, blazing eyes. Fear ran beneath his pelt like icy water. He glanced at Leafpool. She was staring in disbelief at the WindClan leader.
“Come on,” she mewed loudly to Alderpaw. “We’re wasting our time here.” She shot a last pleading look at Kestrelflight, but the WindClan medicine cat had backed away, his gaze on his paws as though shame washed his pelt.
Leafpool turned and headed for the camp entrance.
Alderpaw hurried after her, his pelt burning as he felt Onestar’s intense gaze on it. “What are we going to do?” he whispered desperately.
CHAPTER 19
Pale sunshine streamed through the gaps in the walls as Twigpaw paced the ShadowClan apprentices’ den. The scent of pinesap was making her queasy. She missed the musty smell of the ThunderClan camp.
Violetpaw watched her, anxiously. “Won’t you come outside?”
“I don’t want to.” Anxiety prickled in Twigpaw’s belly. This wasn’t her Clan. She didn’t know any of the cats. And she felt foolish for having come here and gotten caught. “I just want to stay inside.” She’d spent yesterday hiding in the apprentices’ den while Violetpaw went training with Dawnpelt. She had been relieved when Violetpaw had returned, although the ShadowClan cats had kept her well-fed. Fresh-kill had been left at the entrance of the den, as well as moss soaked with water to quench her thirst. But Birchpaw and Lionpaw, who shared the den, had only come there to sleep and had hardly acknowledged her presence. She’d been relieved when they’d left their nest this morning and headed into the clearing.
Violetpaw tipped her head impatiently. “You can’t stay here forever.”
Twigpaw stiffened. “I hope I won’t be here forever!”
Violetpaw ignored her. “Dawnpelt said I was excused from training today so I could spend time with you. She’s worried about you. She says young cats need exercise. It’s newleaf, and the forest is filled with prey-scent.”
“All I can smell is pinesap,” Twigpaw growled. “Besides, Crowfrost would never let me roam the forest. I could hear warriors outside the den all last night. He’s keeping me under guard.”
Violetpaw blinked at her apologetically. “I know it’s not nice for you to be held here. But let’s make the best of it.”
Paw steps pattered outside. “Grassheart says ThunderClan cats can climb trees,” Whorlkit mewed.
“She told me that if kits misbehave, they throw them in the lake.” There was a tremor in Flowerkit’s mew.
Whorlkit snorted. “Don’t be frog-brained! You’re too old to believe nursery tales. We’re going to be apprentices in less than a moon.”
“What if she smells funny?” Flowerkit fretted.
“Hold your breath.” The entrance rustled as Whorlkit barged in. “We’ve come to see you.” He blinked at Twigpaw. “Is that okay?”
“I guess.” Twigpaw stared uncertainly at the gray-and-white tom.
A pair of eyes blinked in the gap behind him. “Is she there?” Flowerkit squeaked.
“Of course she’s here!” Whorlkit rolled his eyes. “Where else would she be?”
A silver she-kit crept in. Her eyes widened as she saw Twigpaw. “You look like a normal cat today!”
“What did you think I’d look like?” She glared at Flowerkit.
Flowerkit looked thoughtful. “Last night, in the moonlight, you looked like a fox.”
Violetpaw’s whiskers twitched. “Your head is full of fluff!”
“It’s not!” Flowerkit retorted. “Scorchfur and Ratscar say all ThunderClan cats are just foxes in cat pelts.”
Twigpaw flicked her tail irritably. “Scorchfur and Ratscar are a pair of old gossips.”
Flowerkit spluttered with amusement. “Can I tell them you said th
at?”
“No!” Alarm spiked through Twigpaw’s pelt.
Whorlkit was still staring at her. “Is it true that you’re special?”
Twigpaw exchanged glances with her sister. She hadn’t thought about being special for ages. She’d been too busy trying to be the best Clan cat she could be.
When Twigpaw didn’t answer, Violetpaw answered for her. “Only StarClan knows if we’re special or not, and they’re not telling.” She trotted to the den entrance and peeked out. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“We’re bored,” Whorlkit complained.
“Grassheart spends all her time with Snakekit,” Flowerkit mewed sadly.
“She’s sick,” Whorlkit told Twigpaw.
Flowerkit shifted her paws. “I hope she gets better in time for our naming ceremony,” she whimpered.
Twigpaw felt a sudden wave of sympathy for the two kits. “Would you like us to play with you?” she suggested. “We could teach you some hunting moves.”
Whorlkit’s eyes brightened. “That’d be great.”
Twigpaw crouched, starting to show him a stalking position, but Whorlkit blinked at her.
“There’s not enough space here. We’ll have to go outside,” he mewed.
“Outside?” Twigpaw stared at him, her heart lurching.
“Good idea!” Violetpaw nudged her toward the entrance. “Come on, Twigpaw. Let’s go outside.”
Reluctantly, Twigpaw let Violetpaw nose her out of the den. Flowerkit and Whorlkit pushed past them and raced into the clearing.
Twigpaw hesitated at the edge. Early morning light broke through the thick canopy, splashing puddles of sunshine over the camp.
Tawnypelt stood at the head of the clearing. ShadowClan warriors paced restlessly around her while Tigerheart listened intently a few tail-lengths away. “Snowbird and Pinenose have both come down with the sickness,” Tawnypelt told them. “There’s not enough room in the medicine den, so Crowfrost is helping to move them all to the warriors’ den.”
“We’ve noticed,” Stonewing grumbled.
Tawnypelt ignored him. “Until they’re well, you can make your nests in the elders’ den.”
“Oh, great.” Strikestone rolled his eyes. “We’ll never be able to sleep! Ratscar snores like a badger.”
“You’ll have to try.” Tawnypelt sounded impatient. “You’ll each have to make two hunting trips today. Tigerheart, can you mentor Lionpaw until Snowbird is well again?”
Tigerheart nodded. “I’ll take her hunting with me.”
“Good.” Tawnypelt turned to Scorchfur. “Can you concentrate your training on hunting too? I want the fresh-kill pile well-stocked.” She glanced at the shriveled mouse and limp thrush left over from yesterday’s hunt, then blinked at Dawnpelt. “Will you take Violetpaw hunting?”
“I promised that she could spend the morning with her sister,” Dawnpelt told her.
Tawnypelt’s gaze flitted toward Twigpaw. She looked relieved. “Our visitor is finally out of her den.” Twigpaw blinked with surprise as Tawnypelt dipped her head in greeting. “Help yourself to prey if you’re hungry,” she called across the clearing.
“Th-thank you.” Twigpaw stammered.
Violetpaw brushed against her. “I told you. ShadowClan isn’t as bad as ThunderClan says.”
As she spoke, Mistcloud and Rippletail barged past her, knocking the kits out of the way as they swaggered across the clearing.
“Hey!” Whorlkit shouted after them indignantly. “Watch out!”
The warriors ignored him.
“You’re late for the morning meeting,” Tawnypelt snapped.
“So?” Rippletail flicked his tail.
“I need every cat out hunting today,” Tawnypelt told him.
Mistcloud puffed out her pelt. “But we spent yesterday hunting. Can’t we patrol borders instead?”
“Borders will have to wait,” Tawnypelt told her. “We have too many sick cats to worry about.”
Rippletail stopped in front of her and rubbed his nose with a paw. “Sick cats don’t eat. Why do we need to catch so much prey?”
Mistcloud mewed in agreement. “We only need to catch half as much prey as—”
A yelp cut her short. At the fresh-kill pile, Birchpaw and Lionpaw were tugging the thrush between them, snarling at each other, their jaws tightly clamped into the bird’s flesh.
Tawnypelt growled at them. “Can’t you just share it?”
Birchpaw threw her a look of disdain and yanked the thrush from his denmate.
Lionpaw glared at him as he carried the bird away.
Twigpaw leaned closer to her sister. “In ThunderClan, apprentices aren’t allowed to eat until they’ve caught prey for their Clan.”
Violetpaw shrugged. “It’s just leftovers from last night.”
Twigpaw’s pelt pricked with surprise. She knew ShadowClan wasn’t ThunderClan, but she’d assumed they all followed the same warrior code.
As Twigpaw wondered how two Clans could be so different, Lionpaw hissed at her brother. With a growl she raced after him and leaped onto his back. Knocking the thrush from his paws, she began pummeling him with her hind legs.
“Her claws are unsheathed!” Twigpaw stared in shock as she saw Birchpaw’s fur fly. He struggled to free himself, yowling in pain. Twigpaw turned to the older cats, waiting for one to race across the clearing and separate the fighting cats.
Mistcloud sat down and began washing her belly.
Tawnypelt went on with her orders as though nothing was happening. “Tigerheart.” She nodded to the dark tabby tom. “Hunt around the ditches. There are bound to be mouse nests around there.”
Twigpaw couldn’t stay quiet. “Aren’t you going to stop them?”
Birchpaw had twisted free and turned on his sister. Slamming his paws onto her shoulders, he held her chin to the earth while he raked his claws along her flank. She wailed with pain.
Scorchfur met Twigpaw’s gaze coolly. “They started it,” he meowed. “Let them finish it.”
“But they might hurt each other!” Twigpaw gasped.
Mistcloud looked up. “If they do, it’s their own fault.”
Twigpaw raced toward the fighting cats. “Stop!” Hooking her claws into Birchpaw’s scruff, she hauled him away from his sister.
His eyes flashed with rage. He swung out at her and raked her muzzle. Surprised, she staggered, pain scorching through her. Lionpaw jumped to her paws and swiped at her, hissing. Alarm spiraled into Twigpaw’s chest as both apprentices turned on her. She batted them away, trying not to hurt them.
“Stop!” Tawnypelt’s yowl cut across the clearing. The she-cat bounded toward them, barging into the fight and pushing the ShadowClan apprentices away. “Crowfrost promised that she wouldn’t be hurt.”
As Twigpaw backed away, Violetpaw rushed to her side. “You should have just let them fight it out.”
Twigpaw stared at her sister, trembling. “Is this normal?”
Violetpaw met her gaze, puzzled. “Isn’t ThunderClan like this?”
“No!” Twigpaw could hardly believe her ears. She glanced around the clearing at the unruffled warriors and the scratched and bleeding apprentices. None of them seemed shocked by what had happened. Whorlkit and Flowerkit were watching, their eyes bright with excitement.
“Why did you stop them?” Whorlkit hurried to Twigpaw’s side.
Flowerkit joined him. “Now we won’t know who would have won.”
Twigpaw felt sick. I want to go home! She suddenly felt a surge of anxiety for Violetpaw. She grew up here. Is she like this too? No wonder she joined the rogues! As her thoughts swirled, the entrance to the warriors’ den trembled and Puddleshine stumbled out.
The medicine cat’s eyes were clouded with exhaustion.
“How are the sick cats?” Tawnypelt padded toward him.
“I’m doing the best I can,” Puddleshine glanced back at the den. “I need more tansy and borage.”
“Lionpaw and Birchpaw can gather s
ome for you,” Tawnypelt told him.
Lionpaw huffed. “Do we have to? Herb gathering is boring.” She seemed unruffled by her fight.
“Yes, you do,” Tawnypelt told her sternly. “Dawnpelt can go with you to make sure you don’t get distracted.”
“We’ll go when we’ve finished eating,” Lionpaw told the tortoiseshell. She leaned down and took a bite from the thrush, which was covered in dirt from the fight.
Birchpaw rubbed a streak of blood from his muzzle and settled beside her to eat.
Twigpaw stared at them. Why had they fought over the thrush if they were going to share it anyway? And how could they eat when their sick Clanmates needed herbs? “I can help.” She hurried to Puddleshine’s side. “I used to help Alderpaw. I know what borage and tansy look like. I can gather some now if you like.”
“No.” Tawnypelt’s gaze flashed toward her. “You’re not to leave camp.”
“Then let me do something else to help.” Twigpaw looked pleadingly at Puddleshine. His fur was dull and his ribs were showing through his pelt. He clearly hadn’t slept or eaten properly in days. “I’ll fetch you some food.” Twigpaw hurried to the fresh-kill pile and grabbed the shriveled mouse. She carried it back to Puddleshine and dropped it at his paws. “Eat this. I’ll check on the sick cats.”
Puddleshine stared at her gratefully. “Oakfur needs water.”
“I can do that,” Twigpaw told him.
“Kinkfur too.” He crouched stiffly and began gnawing at the mouse. “There’s moss at the back of the warriors’ den, but it needs soaking.”
Twigpaw beckoned Violetpaw with a jerk of her nose. “Come and help.”
Tawnypelt was staring at her in surprise. “This is very kind of you.”
Twigpaw blinked at her. “Since I have to stay here, I might as well be useful.” Flicking her tail, she padded into the warriors’ den.
A sour stench hit her as she padded into the gloom.
Violetpaw followed her in. “Ewww.”
“Ignore the smell.” Twigpaw had spent enough time in ThunderClan’s medicine den to recognize the scent of sickness. But she’d never smelled it this strongly before. She crouched beside the nest closest to the entrance. An old tom lay as limp as prey, his fur matted, on the stinking moss. “Who’s this?” Twigpaw whispered to Violetpaw.
