by Erin Hunter
“Yes,” Mothwing meowed. “She took a patrol over to RiverClan to try to free the prisoners and collect the bodies of our Clanmates for burial, but some of the rogues spotted them when they tried to cross the border. There was a skirmish, and . . .” Her voice was shaking, and she paused to steady it. “Mistystar and our warriors lost. Raven—she was leading the rogues’ patrol—let them go, but she told Mistystar that if there was another attempt to steal back the territory, the rogues would kill the RiverClan prisoners.”
“That’s outrageous!” Alderheart exclaimed, digging his claws into the soft sand of the lake’s edge.
“It is.” Mothwing blinked unhappily. “But we can’t just leave them there and do nothing!”
With a determined flick of her tail, she set off again along the water’s edge in the direction of the WindClan border.
“So what’s the plan?” Alderheart asked as he padded along beside her.
“Willowshine and I built up a good store of herbs in our den,” Mothwing told him. “I thought if I went there and told the rogues I had come to collect them, they might let me into the camp.”
“It’s worth a try,” Alderheart responded. He remembered his quest, when he had discovered Darktail and his rogues in the gorge where SkyClan used to live. Back then, Darktail had seemed fascinated by all the things that medicine cats knew. I hope that means he’ll respect medicine-cat ways now, even though his rogues aren’t Clan cats.
“Of course, I don’t care if they let us take the herbs or not,” Mothwing went on. “We can always gather more. But once we’re in the camp, we might be able to find out how the prisoners are doing, and where they’re being kept. If we get really lucky, we might be able to speak to them.”
Approaching the stream that marked the border with WindClan, Alderheart opened his jaws to taste the air, and he picked up the powerful fresh scent of WindClan cats. At first he couldn’t see any movement on the hillside, but as he and Mothwing splashed through the water and climbed out on the opposite bank, a WindClan patrol rose up out of a clump of reeds and bounded forward to block their way.
“What do you want?” Sedgewhisker, who was in the lead, raked her gaze over both medicine cats. “I hope you’re not expecting to visit Onestar. We made it clear enough yesterday that he doesn’t want to see any other cats.”
Yesterday? Alderheart wondered. Sedgewhisker didn’t seem to be talking about Mistystar’s patrol just passing along the lakeshore. I didn’t know any cats had tried to visit Onestar. He pushed his curiosity aside for the moment, swallowing anger at the tabby she-cat’s hostile tone. “No,” he mewed. “We just want to pass over your territory to get to RiverClan.”
At his words, Sedgewhisker relaxed a little, though her companions, Leaftail and Oatclaw, still bristled with suspicion. Alderheart remembered that his Clanmates always spoke of Sedgewhisker as a reasonable cat; he was relieved that she was the one they had to deal with.
“Well—” she began.
“Don’t let them! It’s a ThunderClan trick!” Leaftail growled.
Sedgewhisker glanced over her shoulder at her Clanmate. “They’re medicine cats, mouse-brain!” Turning back to Alderheart and Mothwing, she added, “Okay, but put one paw more than three tail-lengths from the water and you might find yourself missing your ears.”
Alderheart and Mothwing both ignored the threat. “Thank you, Sedgewhisker,” Mothwing mewed with a polite dip of her head.
Alderheart could sense the eyes of the patrol boring into his back as he and Mothwing made their way along the lakeshore at the foot of the swell of moorland. “What did Sedgewhisker mean, ‘made it clear enough yesterday’?” he asked.
“I forgot you might not have heard,” Mothwing replied. “When Mistystar got back from RiverClan, she sent Mallownose and Petalfur to see Onestar and ask for his help. But a WindClan patrol turned them back at the border. Onestar doesn’t want to speak to any cat outside his own Clan.”
“That’s really weird,” Alderheart meowed. “When the rogues first arrived, Onestar was so keen to have them driven out. And now . . . things have only gotten worse, but he doesn’t seem bothered at all, whether they stay or go.”
Mothwing nodded agreement. “I heard how Darktail said something to Onestar in the first battle. I wonder what it was.”
“You and every cat in ThunderClan!” Alderheart responded. “It must have been catastrophic, to affect him like this.”
As he and Mothwing drew closer to the horseplace, Alderheart felt uneasy. It was bad enough in ThunderClan’s camp: Juniperclaw and Strikestone had arrived recently from ShadowClan, and with the additional warriors from RiverClan, all the cats were treading on one another’s tails. And all the newcomers were demanding help to get back their territory. Every cat was stunned that Darktail had invaded RiverClan. His power now extended over half the land around the lake.
Bramblestar had sent out extra patrols, afraid that the rogues could attack ThunderClan at any moment. So far there was no sign that Darktail was planning another invasion, but every cat knew that, sooner or later, it would come. And no cat knew where he was holding the prisoners or how they might be rescued, until Mothwing had come up with her idea.
If her idea even works . . .
“I’m sorry, Alderheart.” Mothwing broke the silence as if she had been following his thoughts. “I know this is a mouse-brained plan, but what else can we do?”
“You’re right,” Alderheart responded, pushing aside his misgivings. “We can’t let things go on as they are. Did you hear about Dawnpelt?”
Mothwing shook her head. “What about her?”
“Juniperclaw and Strikestone—you know, they’re Dawnpelt’s kits—came into our camp a few days ago. They asked to join Rowanstar and their other Clanmates, and they said that Dawnpelt was going to follow them, but she never showed.”
Mothwing gave Alderheart an uneasy glance. “That’s really worrying.”
“Juniperclaw and Strikestone don’t know what to do. They told us that things were really bad among the rogues, and they’re afraid that Darktail has done something to Dawnpelt.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Mothwing mewed.
“It wouldn’t surprise any cat. I suppose Dawnpelt might have changed her mind about leaving, but I doubt it.”
“Then if we can get into the RiverClan camp,” Mothwing suggested, “we might keep a lookout for Dawnpelt, too. If she’s there, then at least we can reassure her kits that Darktail didn’t hurt her.”
And if she’s not there . . . Alderheart had a cold feeling in his belly when he thought about Dawnpelt. I’m sure something bad has happened to her.
He and Mothwing fell silent again as they passed the horseplace and padded along the stretch of marshland toward the RiverClan border. Glancing up toward the ridge, which Twigpaw had to have crossed on her journey to find the barn where SkyClan was sheltering, Alderheart thought of the other reason he felt tense from his whiskers to his tail-tip.
Dovewing, Tigerheart, and Molewhisker haven’t come back with news of her. A quarter moon is an awfully long time to travel to the barn and back.
Alderheart tried to convince himself that as long as the patrol was still out looking, there was still hope that Twigpaw was okay. But he couldn’t manage to banish his fear that he would never see the small apprentice again.
Passing the end of the tree-bridge that led to the island, Alderheart once more made an effort to thrust unwelcome thoughts away. It was time to concentrate on their mission.
When the two medicine cats reached the border, they discovered that the RiverClan scent markers were fading. Alderheart gagged on a mingled, unfamiliar scent, strong and sour, as if the cats who’d left it had never washed themselves since they were kitted. He knew that the reek must come from the rogues.
Are they nearby now? he wondered, his muscles tensing.
Mothwing wrinkled her nose and let out a huff of disgust. “Yuck! They’ve fouled the whole territory with their stin
k.”
Now she and Alderheart trod warily, taking advantage of the cover that every bush and tuft of long grass offered them.
“It’s weird,” Alderheart murmured as they paused to rest in a dip in the ground. “Before the battle, a RiverClan patrol would have met us long before now. But we haven’t seen a whisker of the rogues.”
Mothwing flicked her ears in agreement. “I don’t like the silence,” she whispered. “But maybe it means Darktail doesn’t have enough cats to patrol regularly. After all, he’s trying to hold two territories now.”
The two cats continued, growing even more cautious as they began to hear the gurgle of running water not far ahead: the stream at the edge of the RiverClan camp. The reek of rogue scent was in the air, growing stronger with every paw step they took.
To Alderheart’s surprise, he and Mothwing reached the bank of the stream without meeting any of the enemy cats. But as soon as they set paw in the water and began to cross, three heads appeared over the top of the opposite bank, and three cats came bounding down to the water’s edge, where they stood waiting for the medicine cats.
Alderheart couldn’t help his heart thumping harder in his chest when he saw that one of the cats was Needletail. Instinctively, he lifted a paw in greeting and stepped forward to meet her. Then he halted as he saw Needletail regarding him with a cold, unrecognizing stare.
We grew to be such good friends when she came with us on my quest, he thought sadly.
It was the cat in the lead, a long-furred black she-cat, who spoke.
“Greetings.” Though the word was polite, her voice was harsh. “What are you cats doing here?”
While she was speaking, the third cat stepped out from behind Needletail, and Alderheart got a good look at her for the first time. His heart lurched again as he realized that she was Violetpaw. She looked so much like the missing Twigpaw, and as he gazed at her, Alderheart’s compassion swelled up until it almost choked him.
She’s trying to look brave and fierce, he thought, but somehow I can tell that she is just sad and afraid!
Mothwing dipped her head politely in response to the black she-cat’s question. “Greetings, Raven,” she meowed. “Alderheart and I have come to collect my herb stores.”
It was Needletail who replied, the fur on her neck and shoulders rising. “Don’t you know this is Kin territory now?”
“Yes, of course we do.” Mothwing still kept her even, polite tone. “But medicine cats are supposed to be able to cross Clan boundaries, even after a battle. I gathered those herbs, and we need them for all the extra cats who are living in ThunderClan now.”
Raven let out a contemptuous snort. “Yeah, well, we’re not Clan cats; we are Kin. And the Kin follow no rules but their own,” she hissed. “This territory and everything in it are ours now—right, Needletail?”
“Right,” Needletail mewed firmly. “We are not Clan cats. Go home now, if you know what’s good for you.”
As they spoke, Alderheart kept looking at Violetpaw, who had stayed quiet the whole time. She looked upset and unsure of herself, gazing straight ahead as if she didn’t want to be near the others as they argued.
I should feel angry with her, for how she attacked Twigpaw in the battle, but she’s so young. . . . How can she stand up to all these older cats, telling her what she should do?
Glancing back at Needletail, Alderheart met her gaze, and for a moment the two cats stared at each other. Alderheart could see that behind the strength and anger, Needletail was carrying some hurt deep within her. He remembered that the RiverClan cats had told him that Rain hadn’t been seen in the battle.
I wonder if something bad happened to him. Needletail liked him so much. . . .
As he kept gazing at her, something in Needletail’s expression shifted. “Okay,” she began. “You can come and get the herbs—”
“What?” Raven interrupted, her ears flattened with fury. “Are you completely mouse-brained? They—”
“No, wait. Listen,” Needletail meowed. “They can come in, if they tell Puddleshine what the herbs are used for.”
Raven looked thoughtful, as if she was considering Needletail’s suggestion, but Alderheart couldn’t understand what his former friend was meowing about.
Puddleshine must know most of the herbs by now, since Yellowfang started teaching him in his dreams. Doesn’t Needletail realize that? Her intense expression wasn’t giving him any clues. What is she up to?
Finally Raven gave an ungracious shrug. “I suppose you might have a point. Okay,” she added to the two medicine cats. “You can come into the camp, but if you put one whisker out of line you will be leaving it with a serious limp—that’s if you leave it at all.”
Alderheart and Mothwing climbed the bank, flanked by Raven and Needletail, with Violetpaw trailing behind. As they crossed the shallow ridge and padded down into the camp, Alderheart’s pelt prickled with horror at what he saw. The lush growth of ferns that bordered the clearing and sheltered the dens had been torn apart, and debris was scattered everywhere. The cats themselves looked dirty and hungry, with wild looks in their eyes, as if they expected to be attacked in the next heartbeat. Alderheart scanned the cats for Dawnpelt, but did not see her.
He tried to look around for the cream-furred she-cat, or to figure out where the prisoners were being held, but Raven hustled him and Mothwing along far too quickly for him to spot any sign of them.
As they hurried across the camp, Violetpaw bounded forward to catch up with Alderheart and trot along by his side.
“How is Twigpaw?” Her mew was soft, as though she didn’t want Raven to overhear. “Is her injury healing okay?”
For a moment, Alderheart didn’t know how to answer. He could see from the pain in Violetpaw’s eyes that she felt terrible about her attack on her sister during the battle. He felt even more pity for her, clearly lost and trapped among these vicious cats.
“Yes,” he replied at last, his throat tightening as he spoke the lie. “Twigpaw is recovering just fine.”
He hated lying to her, and he wished he could have told her how he had seen in a vision a cat who might be her kin. But there was no time for that, or for the truth about where Twigpaw had gone.
“Thank you,” Violetpaw mewed, ducking her head briefly, then wandering off across the camp.
Raven led the way through a line of bushes that enclosed the clearing and down to the other stream that bordered the camp on the opposite side. Here the current had scoured out a hollow underneath the bank, a good-sized cave with a roof supported by tree roots. On a stretch of pebbles at the cave opening, Puddleshine was sitting and sorting herbs into different piles.
“This is your den?” Alderheart asked Mothwing. “It’s cool!”
The golden tabby she-cat looked sad. “It was my den,” she murmured.
Puddleshine sprang up hopefully as Alderheart and the other cats leaped down the bank and landed on the pebbles. “Hi,” he meowed, his ears twitching forward in surprise. “What brings you here?”
“Mothwing and Alderheart have come to collect Mothwing’s herb stores,” Needletail replied. “In exchange, they’re going to tell you how to use some of them, like”—Needletail glanced around a little wildly, then grabbed a sprig of watermint in her claws—“like this,” she finished.
Puddleshine looked slightly confused. “But that’s an easy one. It’s watermint, and you use it to treat a bellyache. Yellowfang showed me that in my dreams, along with . . .”
His voice trailed off as he gazed at Needletail and Raven, clearly realizing that something was going on that he didn’t understand. Needletail still had the same intense expression, while Raven’s eyes suddenly narrowed with suspicion and she slid out her claws.
I hope Puddleshine figures out that Needletail has a plan, Alderheart thought, though he was still wondering what the plan might be.
“Of course, I don’t know nearly everything yet,” Puddleshine went on. “I could definitely use some help with some thing
s. For example, I was just wondering what this is.” He nudged a marigold flower closer to Mothwing.
Alderheart’s belly lurched. Every medicine-cat apprentice learns about marigold—it’s one of the first herbs we work with! Surely Raven is going to realize that she’s being tricked? But when the black she-cat stayed silent, merely looking on stonily, he breathed a thankful sigh that the rogues knew nothing about medicine cats.
“That’s called marigold. We mostly use it to stop infection,” Mothwing explained, “though it will help aching joints if you can’t get daisy leaves.”
Puddleshine nodded, looking as if he was trying to concentrate and remember. To Alderheart’s relief, Raven relaxed her suspicious stance and began to clean her claws.
“And this is yarrow,” Mothwing continued. “Chewed and swallowed, it will make you vomit, which means it’s good for a cat who’s eaten something they shouldn’t have. . . .”
While the lesson went on, Alderheart nudged Needletail and drew her off to one side. “How are you really doing?” he asked. “Is everything okay? What happened to Rain?”
Needletail flicked her tail, brushing off his concern. “Rain is dead,” she told him, “but it’s fine. It’s a good thing, really.”
Alderheart tried to hide his shock at Needletail’s indifference toward the death of any cat, especially a cat she had cared for. “And how are you?” he meowed.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Needletail seemed to be trying to work up some enthusiasm in her tone, but she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “Everything’s fine.”
Why does she keep repeating that? Alderheart wondered. Is she trying to convince herself?
“Actually,” Needletail went on, “I wanted to ask you about Dawnpelt. How is she doing in ThunderClan?”
Alderheart felt his heart sink right down into his paws. But he knew he would have to answer the question. “Dawnpelt isn’t in ThunderClan,” he replied. “Isn’t she still with you and the rogues?”
