Dawn

Chapter 12

Leafpaw raked through the fur at the base of her tail, scraping out the troublesome flea. She cracked its fat body between her teeth, tasting with some satisfaction the blood it had stolen from her. “Got it!”

“Don’t tell the others you had an extra piece of fresh-kill,” Squirrelpaw joked. “They’ll all want one.”

Leafpaw’s belly growled. The vole she had just shared with her sister had barely touched her hunger. They were lying side by side in a shallow dip in the stone, watching the sun sink behind Sunningrocks. The clouds had cleared, and a perfect half-moon hung in the blue evening sky.

“Has Cinderpelt decided whether you’re going to make the journey to the Moonstone tonight?” Squirrelpaw meowed.

“She’s speaking with Firestar about it now,” Leafpaw replied. The medicine cats of every Clan met each half-moon at Mothermouth to share tongues with StarClan.

They didn’t need the half-moon to secure a truce—medicine cats lived outside the differences between Clans that sometimes led to quarrels—but it was an important time for sharing concerns and advice about treating their Clanmates.

Leafpaw saw Cinderpelt emerge, and she clambered to her paws, keen to find out if they would be going to Highstones in spite of the dangers that lurked in the forest.

But Cinderpelt shook her head as she came over and stood at the edge of the hollow. “Firestar agrees with me,” she reported. “We can’t risk the journey with so many Twolegs and monsters about.”

“But we need to share with StarClan now more than ever!”

Leafpaw protested.

“Firestar says he cannot risk losing us, and he’s right.

Where would the Clan be without a medicine cat?”

Leafpaw sighed and scraped at the rock with her claw.

“StarClan will share with us if they wish to,” Cinderpelt mewed.

Leafpaw shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not going,” Squirrelpaw meowed as Cinderpelt padded away. “I nearly lost you to the Twolegs once. I don’t think I could bear it again.”

Leafpaw gave her sister a quick, fond lick on her head and settled down again. “Do you think the RiverClan cats will go to Highstones?” she wondered out loud. It was strange to think that the other medicine cats might be making the journey without them. Would StarClan think Cinderpelt and Leafpaw were being cowardly?

“I doubt they’ll risk it,” Squirrelpaw told her. “Last time Brambleclaw and I saw Stormfur, he said Mudfur was pretty sick.”

“I was just hoping that, if the medicine cats from all the Clans traveled to the Moonstone together, it might bring us closer,” Leafpaw admitted.

Squirrelpaw nodded. “I know. You’d think trouble like this would unite us, like it did when BloodClan attacked, but instead we seem forests apart.”

“Each Clan seems to have its own idea about what to do.”

Leafpaw sighed. “If only StarClan would give us a sign!”

“Were you hoping that StarClan might share something with you tonight?”

Leafpaw gave a small nod, avoiding her sister’s gaze. She didn’t want to betray the fear that had made her heart pound all day: the cold dread that they would go all the way to the Moonstone and find StarClan silent even there.

“It’s stupid that the Clans should find it so hard to come together.” Squirrelpaw’s mew interrupted her thoughts.

“They have far more in common than they think.”

Leafpaw looked thoughtfully at her sister, suddenly wondering what Squirrelpaw was hinting at.

“After all, ShadowClan, RiverClan, and ThunderClan even share kin,” Squirrelpaw went on.

“You mean Tawnypelt and Stormfur?”

“Not just them.” Squirrelpaw’s tail twitched as she spoke.

“There are other cats linked to ThunderClan by blood.”

With a jolt Leafpaw wondered if her sister had discovered a secret she had known for a moon and kept to herself. “Are you talking about Tigerstar being Hawkfrost and Mothwing’s father?”

Squirrelpaw stared at her in astonishment. “Have you been sharing my dreams again?”

Leafpaw shook her head. “I’ve known for some time,” she admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Squirrelpaw demanded.

“I didn’t think it mattered. Not right now, when all the Clans are in danger. Why should it make a difference if Tigerstar is Hawkfrost and Mothwing’s father?” Leafpaw knew she was trying to convince herself. The last thing the Clans needed was another cat with Tigerstar’s hunger for power.

“A warrior like Hawkfrost can’t be trusted,” Squirrelpaw insisted.

Leafpaw felt an uneasy knot twist in her belly. “But Tigerstar is Brambleclaw’s father too,” she pointed out.

“And Brambleclaw is a loyal warrior.”

“Brambleclaw has nothing to do with this,” Squirrelpaw snapped.

“Of course not,” Leafpaw agreed quickly. “I only meant that having Tigerstar as a father doesn’t mean a warrior has to follow in his pawsteps.” She prayed this was true.

“Good.” Squirrelpaw nodded. “Because Brambleclaw is completely different from Hawkfrost. They have nothing in common. Nothing.”

Leafpaw curled into a ball beside her sister and buried her nose under her paws for warmth. Squirrelpaw’s words had sounded like an echo—were they Brambleclaw’s, perhaps?

“Good night, Squirrelpaw,” she whispered, curling up close to Squirrelpaw, their sharp words forgotten. Leafpaw did not need a visit from StarClan to tell her that her sister was falling in love with Brambleclaw. Amid everything else that was going on, and however much Leafpaw missed the connection that once only the two of them shared, this felt right and good for the whole Clan.

She closed her eyes. I wonder if StarClan will share my dreams, she thought as sleep tugged at her like a gentle river. It was a half-moon, after all; that had to count for something, even if they weren’t at the Moonstone.

Leafpaw felt the insistent nudge of a nose prodding her awake. “Who is it?” she whispered sleepily.

“It’s me, Mothwing.” The young cat’s voice trembled with fear.

Leafpaw blinked open her eyes and saw the RiverClan apprentice outlined in the pale moonlight.

“Come quick; I need you,” Mothwing mewed under her breath.

Leafpaw felt her sister stirring beside her. “What’s going on?” Squirrelpaw yawned.

“It’s Mothwing,” Leafpaw told her.

Squirrelpaw was on her paws in an instant. “What are you doing in our camp?” she hissed.

“I need Leafpaw’s help,” Mothwing explained. “Mudfur is very ill.”

“And you thought you’d just creep in here in the middle of the night?”

“Be quiet, Squirrelpaw, before you wake the whole Clan,” Leafpaw growled. She wanted to tell her sister to stop seeing Tigerstar’s daughter standing in front of them, and see her instead as a medicine cat in trouble, but she didn’t want to make Mothwing feel uncomfortable. “Wait here, both of you,” she meowed. “I’ll go and tell Firestar and Cinderpelt.”

“But—” Mothwing began.

Leafpaw silenced her with a glance. “I’ll come with you, but I have to tell them where I’m going.” Leaving the two cats in uneasy silence, she hurried up the slope to the overhang. She crept into the shadowy cavern and followed her father’s scent.

Firestar lifted his head drowsily. “Is that you, Leafpaw?”

Beside him, Sandstorm shifted but did not wake.

“Mothwing’s come to ask if I can go and help Mudfur. He’s really ill.”

She saw a shadow moving toward her from the back of the den, and scented Cinderpelt.

“What’s she treating him with?” the medicine cat called under her breath.

“I don’t know,” Leafpaw replied.

“Do you think it’s safe to go?” Firestar’s eyes gleamed anxiously in the gloom.

“Mothwing wouldn’t lie to me,” she assured him, guessing he feared an ambush from strong RiverClan cats.

“Then you must go,” Firestar murmured. “But if you are not back by dawn, I’ll send a patrol to fetch you.”

“We’ll be back,” Cinderpelt promised. She met Leafpaw’s surprised gaze. “I’m coming too. We must do everything we can to help Mudfur.” She led Leafpaw out of the den to the crevice where she kept her supplies and pulled out several bundles of leaves.

Leafpaw picked up half the bundles, and they hurried down the rock to where Mothwing waited with her sister.

“I’m coming with you,” Squirrelpaw announced.

Leafpaw shook her head. “No need,” she muttered through the bundles dangling from her teeth.

“I’ll make sure they both return safely,” Mothwing meowed.

Squirrelpaw stared distrustfully at the RiverClan cat, and Leafpaw knew her sister was seeing a different cat, broad-shouldered and with gleaming amber eyes. Though they had been born many moons after Tigerstar’s death, both sisters had heard him described enough times to be able to picture him as well as any of their Clanmates.

“Remember Brambleclaw,” she whispered to her sister.

Sharing Tigerstar’s blood did not mean a cat shared his dark heart.

“Lead the way, Mothwing.” Cinderpelt’s order was muffled by the bundles she carried, but Mothwing nodded and bounded silently down the slope.

They waded easily across the river, keeping the herbs above the water. Leafpaw thought back to barely a moon ago, when she had crossed the stepping stones to help a RiverClan apprentice; she had nearly been swept away by the force of the water, and only the spirit of Spottedleaf had stopped her from plunging into the rain-swollen flood. Now the stream trickled quietly around the rocks, hardly covering the pebbles on the riverbed.

Mothwing led the ThunderClan cats into the reed beds; they were no longer marshy, but felt dry underpaw. Leafpaw’s heart quickened at the thought of entering another Clan’s camp, but Mothwing seemed unconcerned and took them straight into the clearing among the reeds. Unfamiliar eyes gleamed in the shadows, but there was nothing but worry and curiosity in their faces.

“Good, you have come,” Leopardstar greeted them. Even in the moonlight Leafpaw could see that the RiverClan leader was not as well fed as she had been lately. Her pelt hung from her body, and her eyes had the dullness of hunger that Leafpaw had begun to accept as normal.

But why should RiverClan cats be starving when the Twolegs were still a long way from their territory?

“Mudfur is in his den,” Leopardstar meowed. “Mothwing will take you.” She stared into Cinderpelt’s eyes. “Do everything you can, but don’t let him suffer. He has served this Clan well, and if StarClan needs him more than we do, then we should let him go in peace.”

Leafpaw followed Cinderpelt and Mothwing through a narrow reed-lined passage that opened into a smaller clearing. It was so similar to the medicine clearing in the ravine that she felt a pang of longing for her old home.

A low moan came from a shadowy corner.

“It’s all right, Mudfur,” Mothwing whispered. “I’ve brought Cinderpelt.”

Cinderpelt hurried over to examine the medicine cat, sniffing him and pressing gently along his flanks with her paws.

Whatever it was, the sickness had taken hold far inside his frail body. Mudfur was clearly in agony, his words indistinct and filled with pain.

“Cinder… pelt… let… me… go… peacefully,” he begged in a voice that rasped like claws scraping on bark.

“Lie still, my friend.” Cinderpelt looked up at Mothwing.

“What have you given him so far?”

“Stinging nettle for the swelling, honey and marigold to soothe the infections, feverfew to cool him, and poppy seeds for the pain.” Mothwing listed her remedies so quickly that Leafpaw blinked. Last time she had seen Mothwing face a crisis—when the RiverClan apprentice nearly drowned—she had been frozen with panic, and Leafpaw had stepped in to treat the young cat instead.

“Good, that’s exactly what I would have given him,” Cinderpelt agreed. “Have you tried yarrow yet?”

Mothwing nodded. “But it made him sick.”

“It can do that sometimes.” Cinderpelt looked down at Mudfur, and her blue eyes clouded with sympathy. “I’m sorry.

I don’t think there’s much more we can do.”

“But he’s suffering!” Mothwing protested.

“I’ll give him more poppy seeds,” Cinderpelt meowed.

“Do you have any marigold left?”

“Plenty.” Mothwing hurried to a gap in the reed wall and drew out a pawful of crushed petals. Taking some dried berries from one of the bundles, Cinderpelt began to knead the petals into them. The berries still had enough softness in them to make a pulp. Cinderpelt sprinkled in more poppy seeds than Leafpaw had seen her use before, then she pushed the mashed herbs to Mudfur.

“This will soothe your pain,” she whispered. “Eat as much as you can.”

The old medicine cat began to lap at it, his eyes growing soft with gratitude as he recognized what was in the mixture.

For a wild moment, Leafpaw wondered if Cinderpelt had given him enough poppy seeds to make him sleep all the way to StarClan, but she knew from the gentleness in her mentor’s eyes that she was only trying to ease Mudfur’s pain.

However silent their warrior ancestors had been lately, Cinderpelt still trusted them to come for Mudfur when they chose to.

“Leave us now,” Cinderpelt murmured to Leafpaw and Mothwing. “I’ll sit with him till he sleeps.”

“Will he die?” Mothwing asked, her voice quavering.

“Not yet,” Cinderpelt told her. “But this will ease his suffering until StarClan calls him.”

Leafpaw backed away and followed Mothwing through the tunnel to the main clearing.

“How is he?” Leopardstar demanded as soon as they emerged into the silvery pool of moonlight.

“Cinderpelt’s doing all she can,” Mothwing reported.

Leopardstar nodded, then turned and padded away.

“I’ve never been here before,” Leafpaw mewed, hoping to distract Mothwing. “It’s well-sheltered.”

The young cat shrugged. “It’s a good camp.”

“I’m not surprised Leopardstar doesn’t want to leave it,” Leafpaw went on, being careful to keep her voice nonthreatening. She was curious about Leopardstar’s sudden thinness—and by the look of the other cats moving around the edge of the clearing, the RiverClan leader was not the only cat going hungry here.

“You’re running out of fish now that the river’s so low, aren’t you?” Leafpaw guessed bravely.

Mothwing looked at her for a long moment. “Yes. We haven’t eaten well for a while.”

“Does that mean Leopardstar might consider leaving now?”

To her dismay, Mothwing shook her head. “Leopardstar says we will stay as long as there are no Twolegs in our territory. She says that if the river cannot feed us, we will have to learn to hunt new prey.”

Leafpaw felt a searing pang of frustration with the stubborn RiverClan leader—there was no new prey, she longed to screech—but she did not want to show disrespect for Mothwing’s Clan. “You’ve become a great medicine cat,” she mewed, clumsily changing the subject. “Cinderpelt wouldn’t have done anything different to help Mudfur.”

Leafpaw almost leaped out of her fur when Hawkfrost’s voice sounded beside her ear.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “The Clan will be lucky to have such a good medicine cat when Mudfur goes to hunt with StarClan.”

“I think Hawkfrost has more faith in me than I do myself,” Mothwing murmured.

“You have no reason to doubt yourself,” Hawkfrost insisted. “Our father was a great warrior. Our mother is proud and strong. They shared only one flaw: that their only loyalty was—and still is, in Sasha’s case—to themselves above all other cats.” He paused and glanced around the clearing. “We’re not like that. We understand what it means to be loyal to our Clan. We have the courage to live by the warrior code. And because of that we’ll be the most powerful cats in RiverClan one day, and our Clanmates will have to respect us then.”

Leafpaw felt as if she’d been flung headfirst into the icy river. However much Hawkfrost pledged to live by the warrior code, that sort of ambition could make him dangerous—like his father before him.

Mothwing gave a purr of amusement. “You mustn’t take anything my brother says too seriously,” she told Leafpaw.

“He’s the bravest and most loyal cat in RiverClan, but he gets carried away sometimes.”

Leafpaw blinked. She hoped with all her heart that Mothwing was right. But the arrogance that glinted in Hawkfrost’s eyes filled her heart with unease. Something told her—some instinct that made her fur crawl—that this was only the beginning.

Hawkfrost could not be trusted.