Goosefeather's Curse

by Erin Hunter

  “It’s a vole,” Harepounce panted. She crouched down and hauled at it with her teeth. Goosefeather scrabbled at the soil on the other side of the fresh-kill. With a squelch the vole was pulled free, and Harepounce sat back on her haunches.

  Goosefeather gazed down at the vole in dismay. Its flanks had caved in, the flesh eaten away by fat white maggots, which writhed in the shriveled fur. The remains of the creature stank worse than crow-food, and greasy slime was oozing out of it, soaking Goosefeather’s paws.

  “It’s ruined,” Harepounce whispered.

  All around them, warriors were digging up more rotten prey. Soaked, maggoty, and wasted away to nothing, their precious stores were useless. Goosefeather looked up and saw Doestar standing below Highrock, her eyes dark with fear. Pineheart was standing beside her, his tail lashing as he promised to send out more patrols, restock the stores. But there was a weight in Goosefeather’s belly like cold stone. His vision was going to come true. There was nothing he could do to save his Clanmates from starvation.

  Harepounce died first, refusing to eat a mouthful from the moment they dug up the rotten prey and instead giving all her meager share to her kits. The rain stopped and snow came, smothering the forest into silent whiteness, which was pierced by moans of pain and hunger. Pineheart kept sending out hunting patrols, but again and again they returned empty-pawed.

  Goosefeather and Cloudberry turned their paws raw from scraping in the snow in search of leaves to soothe bellyache and ward off coughs and fever. Flashnose died from a bout of sickness that racked her body with terrible spasms, and Stagleap and Hollypelt faded soon after. By the time Nettlebreeze slipped into a slumber from which he couldn’t awake, sprawled in the middle of the clearing on his way back from the dirtplace, none of the cats were strong enough to move his body. A circle of StarClan cats gathered around the dead tom, their pelts noticeably shiny amid the mangy, dull-eyed warriors.

  Goosefeather stared down at the stiffening ginger cat softly being covered with snowflakes and felt a surge of molten fury in his belly. Swiftbreeze staggered past, almost tripping over one of Nettlebreeze’s legs.

  “Careful!” Goosefeather hissed.

  The tabby-and-white she-cat turned to him with clouded, vacant eyes. A scrap of bark clung to her whiskers. Goosefeather knew that some of the warriors had started chewing twigs in an effort to fill their empty bellies.

  “He can’t feel anything now,” Swiftbreeze rasped, sounding older than stone.

  “He still deserves our respect,” Goosefeather mewed. He was too weak to move Nettlebreeze himself, but he tried to tuck the dead cat’s legs under his belly so that no one else would fall over him.

  He heard paw steps crunching over the snow and looked up to see Cloudberry limping toward him. The medicine cat looked hollow beneath her white fur, and her teeth seemed too large for her mouth. “Rabbitpaw dug up some worms today,” she croaked. “I’m sharing them with Rainfur and the kits. Do you want one?”

  Goosefeather pictured the slimy, throbbing creature and gagged. “It’s okay,” he mewed. “Save them for yourself.” He gently picked up Nettlebreeze’s tail in his jaws and draped it over the ginger cat’s back.

  “We did everything we could,” Cloudberry whispered close to his ear. Her breath smelled rotten. “It’s not your fault we couldn’t stop this happening. The rain spoiling all our prey was just bad luck.”

  Goosefeather lifted his head and looked at her. “There is no such thing as bad luck,” he told her. “Only destiny. I knew this was coming. But everything I did just made it worse.”

  He turned and plunged through the snow toward the gorse tunnel. Churned slush showed where a patrol had gone out in the hope of finding something to eat. Goosefeather scrambled up the ravine and walked into the silent forest.

  How had he ever thought his visions were a gift? StarClan hadn’t blessed him; they had cursed him instead. He would always know the worst that would happen, and be powerless to change it. Mapleshade was right: He was doomed.

  “Goosefeather?”

  A soft voice made him stop and look around. A familiar dark brown figure was waiting beneath a patch of bracken.

  “Pearnose!”

  The dead cat looked more alive than any of his Clanmates. Goosefeather padded up to her, inhaling her sweet, leaf-fresh scent.

  “I have seen what is happening in ThunderClan,” Pearnose murmured. “My heart is breaking for you all.”

  Goosefeather closed his eyes and fought down the urge to wail like a kit. “I can’t believe there was nothing we could do to stop it. I knew what was coming!”

  The she-cat licked the top of his head. “You walk a difficult path, my friend. You must learn that it is not your role to change the future. Instead, all you can do is shine a light through the darkness, like the tiniest flame. Your Clanmates must deal with their destinies as they unfold. You cannot be responsible for all of them.”

  Goosefeather let out a long sigh. “Then my gift is useless,” he whispered. “Without power, everything I see, everything I know, will bring me nothing but pain.” He lifted his head and opened his mouth in a yowl. “StarClan! Why have you done this to me?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The snow did not last forever. The days lengthened, and the biting chill left the air. The forest echoed with the sound of dripping water, and tiny green buds appeared on the trees. The ThunderClan cats emerged, weak and blinking, from the moons of darkness and horror.

  On the first day of sunshine, Doestar summoned her Clanmates to give the apprentices their warrior names. “They have fought hunger alongside us,” she declared, “with the courage of lions and the loyalty of true warriors. Moonflower, Poppydawn, Heronwing, and Rabbitleap, your Clan welcomes you.”

  Goosefeather cheered his sister’s new name with a burst of pride. She had never given up hope during the hungry moons, never stopped looking for food or caring for her Clanmates. Then Goosefeather saw Stormtail watching Moonflower with a light in his eyes that made Goosefeather’s stomach clench. Of all the warriors, would Moonflower choose him as her mate? Goosefeather didn’t need a vision of the future to know the answer.

  Beside him, Cloudberry wheezed, breaking into his thoughts. Goosefeather turned to his mentor. “Go lie down in the sun,” he urged. “I’m going to forage for catmint today. You should take some.”

  Cloudberry shook her head. “I’m fine,” she rasped. “But it’s a good idea to look for herbs. Specklekit was complaining of bellyache this morning. I think it’s because she’s had a good feed from Rainfur for the first time since her mother died, but we could give her something to ease the pain.”

  Rainfur had brought the kits into the clearing to watch the warrior ceremony. The queen had suckled all five since Harepounce’s death, and she looked like a ragged pelt draped over empty bones. But the kits had survived, and Rainfur was given first choice of every piece of fresh-kill now that prey was returning to the forest.

  “See if you can find some chervil, too,” Cloudberry added.

  Goosefeather looked at her in surprise. “Is there sickness in the camp?”

  “It’s always good to have some in stock,” Cloudberry replied carefully, but Goosefeather saw her gaze flit to Doestar, who was climbing down from Highrock. The leader looked as thin as her Clanmates, her pelt ragged and her breath rasping in her chest. As she passed Goosefeather, he realized that her eyes were sore and oozing, and she smelled faintly of the dirtplace, as if she had made one visit too many.

  “Is Doestar sick?” he whispered to Cloudberry.

  The medicine cat was watching Doestar limp into her den. “I will care for her myself,” she announced without directly answering. “Let no other cat into the den. Food and soaked moss must be left outside. And whatever herbs you can find, bring them straight to me.” She paused and looked at Goosefeather. “Don’t let any cat know that Doestar is ill. This is her last life, and it would panic them too much to think of losing their leader now.” She rested her tai
l on Goosefeather’s shoulder. “A medicine cat keeps many secrets,” she murmured.

  Goosefeather ran into the forest and gathered every medicine he could find, even alder bark, which was used for toothache, and blackberry leaves, which eased bee stings. He figured nothing could hurt Doestar now, and one of them might help unexpectedly. Back at the camp he sent Moonflower for soaked moss; the she-cat grew round-eyed with worry at the urgency in Goosefeather’s tone, but he told her that Doestar was merely exhausted and needed to rest to regain her strength.

  He chose the biggest mouse from the newly stocked fresh-kill pile and dragged the food and wet moss to the entrance to the den beneath Highrock. “Cloudberry!” he called softly.

  The white cat peeked out. “Are you alone?” she rasped. Goosefeather nodded. “Good. Let no other cat come near.” Cloudberry reached out and pulled the mouse toward her. Then she looked at Goosefeather. “Will you stay here tonight?” she asked quietly. “I . . . I’d like to know you are close by.”

  “Of course,” Goosefeather whispered. He pushed the soaked moss into the mouth of the den, then circled to make a scoop in the earth that was comfortable enough for sleeping. He rested his chin on his paws and watched the stars strengthen in the darkening sky. StarClan, watch over Doestar, he prayed. She has suffered so much. Let her live to see her Clan grow well again.

  He was woken at dawn by a stir of movement at the mouth of the den. Cloudberry stood there, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. “She’s gone.”

  Goosefeather swallowed the lump of grief that rose in his throat. “Shall I help you wash her?”

  Cloudberry shook her head. “I’ll do it. And no other cat must come near her during the vigil. Whatever Doestar had, we cannot let it spread. We are all too weak to fight this sickness.”

  What about you? Goosefeather wanted to wail. But he said nothing. He knew what Cloudberry was doing, and he could only honor her by following her wishes exactly.

  As the sun began to slide behind the treetops, Cloudberry hauled Doestar out of the den. Goosefeather had already warned his Clanmates to stay back, so the cats watched in horrified silence as Cloudberry staggered across the clearing, her jaws clenched firmly in Doestar’s creamy ruff. She stopped in the center of the clearing and looked around. “You can honor our leader without putting yourselves in danger from her sickness,” she rasped. “Please, for your own sake, stay back.” She lay down and rested her nose against Doestar’s cheek. The leader’s clouded eyes stared up at the sky.

  One by one, the ThunderClan cats walked past at a careful distance. Fallowsong was coughing, and Goosefeather reminded himself to give her catmint. She didn’t have greencough yet, but he wasn’t prepared to wait. When he looked at Doestar’s unmoving body, he saw another cat stretched out beside her, cold and lifeless, thick white fur stirring faintly in the breeze. They would be sitting vigil for Cloudberry soon, leaving him as ThunderClan’s only medicine cat. Lying down at the edge of the clearing, he dozed off, trying to recall all the herbs he needed to restock his stores.

  Cloudberry woke him at dawn. “I will bury Doestar,” she told him. “You must take Pineheart to the Moonstone for his nine lives ceremony. I am too weak to make the journey. You know what to do, don’t you?”

  Numb, Goosefeather nodded. He felt as if Cloudberry were being pulled away from him, growing more and more distant until she was only a claw-point of light in swirling darkness. As if she could read his thoughts, Cloudberry mewed, “You have been a good apprentice, Goosefeather, and you will be a good medicine cat. Trust your instincts and remember everything I have taught you.” She leaned her forehead against him. “Good-bye, my friend.”

  Goosefeather struggled to speak around the lump in his throat. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered.

  “But I must leave you,” Cloudberry replied. “You are not the only cat who is powerless to change the future.” She lifted her head and gazed at him. “I don’t envy you what you can see, Goosefeather. You must learn to live with the most terrible knowledge. Put your Clan first in all things, and may StarClan light your path, always.”

  She turned away, leaving Goosefeather chilled with sorrow. Pineheart padded up to him. “Shall we go?” he asked softly. The red-brown tom’s eyes were wet with grief. He glanced at Doestar’s body. “I never thought this would happen so soon,” he murmured. “I don’t know if I will be half the leader she was.”

  “Doestar will watch over you from StarClan,” mewed Goosefeather. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Really?” There was a flicker of hope in Pineheart’s eyes. “Have you had a vision?”

  Distracted by the sight of Cloudberry bending over the dead leader once more, Goosefeather nodded. Then he braced himself. “Come, we have a long journey ahead of us.” He led Pineheart out of the camp, feeling the gazes of his Clanmates burning into his fur. They were the new leader and medicine cat. The future lay on their shoulders.

  They reached Mothermouth as night was falling. It had taken longer than usual to reach Highstones because both cats were still weak from the Great Hunger, yet unable to eat because of the ceremony that lay ahead. Pineheart hesitated at the mouth of the tunnel, but Goosefeather plunged into the shadows, the cold stone familiar beneath his paws. After a moment he heard Pineheart following him, his breath loud in the confines of the winding passage.

  The Moonstone sparkled faintly when they entered the cavern. Without speaking, Goosefeather and Pineheart lay down with their muzzles touching the base of the crystal. Goosefeather felt eyes watching him from the edges of the cave, heard the whispers just beyond his hearing, but ignored them and concentrated on slipping into the darkness that waited for him.

  He found himself standing in a clearing in the forest—not a place that he recognized, exactly, but filled with familiar scents and warmed by sunshine. Pinestar, the new leader of ThunderClan, stood in the middle of the grassy space, surrounded by nine cats with starlit fur and glowing eyes. Among them was Pearnose, who nodded to Goosefeather. One by one, the StarClan cats stepped forward and gave Pinestar a life: for courage, for loyalty, for knowing when to fight and when to pursue peace instead. Pearnose gave him a life for appreciating the work of a medicine cat and trusting the wisdom of this companion throughout his leadership.

  As the ninth cat moved forward, a long-legged gray tom with piercing blue eyes, Goosefeather’s ears started to buzz. The grassy clearing vanished and Goosefeather was standing in a sharply scented, too-colorful enclosure with a red stone Twoleg den looming over him. His heart pounded with fear, and he crouched down, ready to leap over the wooden border behind him and flee into the forest. Then he noticed a cat in front of him: sturdy, thick-furred, with a reddish-brown pelt. Pinestar!

  A gap appeared in the side of the den, and a Twoleg stepped out. Pinestar trotted up and arched himself against the creature’s legs, purring and pressing against the hairless pink paw that reached down to stroke him. Goosefeather staggered backward. He tried to call out to his leader, but no sound came out. Pinestar reared up on his hind legs and patted the Twoleg’s knees. Then he followed the Twoleg into the den, still purring, and the gap closed behind him with a snap.

  Goosefeather stared after him in horror. The red stone den and the brightly colored flowers around him faded away, and he was back in the clearing. The starlit cats had vanished, and Pinestar stood in front of him, trembling with excitement.

  “I received my nine lives!” he whispered.

  Goosefeather nodded. Pearnose’s words rang in his ears. It is not your role to change the future. Goosefeather knew that Pinestar was going to betray his Clanmates, Doestar, and every part of the warrior code by leaving the forest to become a kittypet. Every sunrise from now, Goosefeather would wake wondering if this was the day that his leader would abandon his Clan. He couldn’t tell any cat, not even Pinestar, because that was not his duty. He could only wait, and watch. He was, as always, cursed to keep his knowledge a secret. He had seen the future.

 
And there was nothing he could do to change it.

  EXCERPT FROM WARRIORS SUPER EDITION: BLUESTAR’S PROPHECY

  CHAPTER 1

  “Shouldn’t she have opened her eyes by now?”

  “Hush, Swiftbreeze. She’s only a day old. She’ll open them when she’s ready.”

  Bluekit felt the rasp of her mother’s tongue on her flank and nestled closer to Moonflower’s milk-warm belly.

  “Snowkit opened hers this morning,” Swiftbreeze reminded her. “And my two had theirs open from almost the moment they were born.” The she-cat’s tail stirred her bedding. “Leopardkit and Patchkit are natural warriors.”

  A soft purr sounded from a third queen. “Oh, Swiftbreeze, we all know that no kit can compete with your two,” Poppydawn gently teased.

  A small paw poked Bluekit’s side.

  Snowkit!

  Bluekit mewled with annoyance and snuggled closer to Moonflower.

  “Come on, Bluekit!” Snowkit whispered in her ear. “There’s so much to look at and I want to go outside, but Moonflower won’t let me till you’re ready.”

  “She’ll open her eyes in her own time,” Moonflower chided.

  Yes. In my own time, Bluekit agreed.

  Waking, Bluekit could feel the weight of her sister lying on top of her. Moonflower’s belly rose and fell rhythmically beside them. Swiftbreeze was snoring, and Poppydawn wheezed a little as she breathed.

  Bluekit heard Leopardkit and Patchkit chattering outside.

  “You be the mouse and I’ll be the warrior!” Patchkit was ordering.

  “I was the mouse last time!” Leopardkit retorted.

  “Were not!

  “Was!”

  A scuffle broke out, punctuated by squeaks of defiance.

  “Watch where you’re rolling!” came the cross meow of a tom, silencing them for a moment.

  “Okay, you be the warrior,” Patchkit agreed. “But I bet you can’t catch me.”