Goosefeather’s Curse

Chapter Three

Several heads turned toward him.

“She’s in the reeds by Sunningrocks,” Goosekit went on.

Larksong pricked her ears. Beside her, Hollypelt looked skeptical. “You’ve never even left the camp,” she meowed. “How do you know about the reeds beside Sunningrocks?”

Goosekit pressed his paws into the solid earth. “A warrior told me he saw Swiftpaw there.”

“Which warrior?” asked Larksong, looking around.

“I… I don’t know,” Goosekit admitted. “He’s not here now.”

Harepounce rolled her eyes. “Fancy that.”

“I’m not lying!” Goosekit insisted, digging his claws into the earth in frustration.

Larksong looked closely at him. Then she lifted her head. “We’ll need to check the whole territory,” she pointed out. “So we may as well start with Sunningrocks. Mumblefoot, Hollypelt, will you come with me?”

“Because a kit said so?” Hollypelt mewed. “I don’t think so. Doestar and Pineheart will be back soon. I’ll wait for them to organize search patrols.”

“I’ll come with you,” Mumblefoot meowed, padding over to Larksong. He glanced at Goosekit.

“It would be a funny thing for a kit to make up, don’t you think?”

Larksong nodded. She whisked around and plunged back into the gorse with the sturdy brown tom at her heels. More cats emerged into the clearing before the thorns stopped quivering. This patrol was led by Doestar and Pineheart. The ThunderClan leader’s face darkened as she heard about Swiftpaw.

Hollypelt told her about the cats who had already gone out to search.

Doestar turned to her deputy. “It sounds as if Snakerocks and the Thunderpath boundary have been covered. I want you to take a patrol to the treecutplace and along the border with Twolegplace.”

Pineheart dipped his head. “We’ll go at once.” He summoned the three warriors standing closest to him with a flick of his tail, then led them into the tunnel at a run.

Almost at once, Flashnose, Rooktail, and their patrol returned to the clearing. Their tails drooped, and Flashnose’s eyes were brimming. “We searched all the way to Snakerocks and back,” she murmured. “But there was no sign of her.”

Doestar rested her cream-colored tail on Flashnose’s shoulder. “There are warriors spread through the whole forest,” she meowed. “We’ll find Swiftpaw, I promise.”

Suddenly there was a crackle of branches, and a small, sodden figure draped in green slime stumbled out of the gorse.

“Swiftpaw!” Flashnose screeched, flinging herself on her daughter.

Larksong appeared behind Swiftpaw, her tortoiseshell coat dripping with bright green riverweed.

“She was well and truly stuck!” the warrior reported. “Mumblefoot and I thought we’d never get her out of the reeds!”

Mumblefoot joined them. His brown fur stood on end, and there was a piece of reed stuck behind one ear.

“I hurt my leg,” Swiftpaw whimpered. “I was following a frog and I got all tangled up. I thought the river was going to swallow me!”

“You’re safe now, my precious,” Flashnose purred. She lifted her head and gazed at Larksong and Mumblefoot. “Thank you for finding her! You saved her life!”

Larksong curled her tail over her back. “It’s Goosekit you should thank. He told us where Swiftpaw had gone.”

Flashnose tipped her head on one side. “How did you know? And why didn’t you tell us at once?”

“A warrior told me,” Goosekit mewed. “A dark brown tom.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t Squirrelwhisker?” mewed Rooktail.

Goosekit shook his head. “No! I know the difference between a tom and a she-cat!”

Pineheart stood over him, looking stern. “There are no other dark brown warriors in ThunderClan, Goosekit. Who told you where Swiftpaw was?”

Goosekit looked around, wishing the amber-eyed warrior would appear from the shadows. “I told you! I don’t know his name!”

Daisytoe left her sister licking the slime from Swiftpaw’s fur and came over to stand beside

Pineheart. “You have to tell the truth,” she meowed. “Have you been outside the camp on your own?

Is that how you knew where Swiftpaw had gone?”

“No!” Goosekit yowled. “I am telling the truth!”

There was a faint scent of herbs as Cloudberry padded over. “I don’t think we need to make a fuss about it,” she rasped. “Swiftpaw is back, and that’s what matters. Daisytoe, go help Flashnose clean her up before I take a look at her leg. Goosekit, you come with me.”

Feeling very small beside the ancient white medicine cat, Goosekit followed her to where Doestar was standing. The leader looked at them questioningly. “Is something wrong, Cloudberry?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Goosekit, I want you to describe the cat who told you where Swiftpaw was. Everything you can remember, from his nose to his claws.”

“And you’re not going to be angry with me?” Goosekit checked.

Cloudberry shook her head.

Goosekit closed his eyes and pictured the brown-furred warrior. “He had long legs, but he wasn’t as tall as you, Doestar. His fur wasn’t as thick as Cloudberry’s, and his tabby stripes were really dark, almost black. Darker than Squirrelwhisker’s.” He opened his eyes and looked at the senior cats.

Doestar was staring at Cloudberry. “He must be mistaken,” she murmured.

Cloudberry shrugged. “You would think so.”

“Do you think it’s a sign?” Doestar queried.

“I can’t see how it could be,” Cloudberry meowed. She twitched her tail. “I’ll talk to him.”

Doestar nodded. “I think you should.” She walked away to join the others.

Cloudberry looked down at Goosekit. “That cat you saw. Has anyone ever described him to you before?”

Goosekit shook his head.

“And he didn’t tell you his name?”

“No!” Goosekit was starting to feel frustrated. Why did it matter who had told him where Swiftpaw was, as long as the apprentice had been found?

Cloudberry gazed around the clearing. “Are there any cats here now whose names you don’t know?”

Goosekit shrugged. Was he going to get into trouble for not knowing the names of every one of his Clanmates? There were so many of them!

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” Cloudberry urged him gently, as if she could tell what he was thinking.

Goosekit narrowed his eyes against the bright sun. “Well… the black-and-white cat washing himself by the Highrock. I think he’s an apprentice. There’s an elder who tells great stories; I don’t know her name, but she often comes to see me in the nursery. She has brown fur and green eyes. And there’s a cat beside Nettlebreeze who I haven’t seen before.”

Beside him, Cloudberry tensed. “Tell me about that cat,” she whispered.

Goosekit wondered if Cloudberry was losing her sight. “She’s got pale orange fur, a white belly, and four white paws. She’s watching him as if he’s just a kit!” He purred with amusement at the thought of cranky, ancient Nettlebreeze ever being in the nursery.

Cloudberry nudged Goosekit’s shoulder. “Let’s go ask Nettlebreeze her name.” She started to walk across the clearing. Goosekit trotted beside her, thinking it would be more polite to speak to the ginger cat directly.

As they reached the elders’ den, Cloudberry hissed, “Let me do the talking.” She raised her voice.

“Hello, Nettlebreeze. You look comfortable out here. Tell me, do you know a pale orange she-cat with a white belly and white paws?”

The fur rose along Nettlebreeze’s spine. “That’s my mother, Dawnfeather,” he growled. “Why are you asking about her? Has she spoken to you from StarClan?”

“StarClan?” Goosekit yelped. “But she’s right—”

Cloudberry clamped her tail over Goosekit’s mouth. “She asked me to tell you that she is watching over you, Nettlebreeze. All is well.”

The old ginger tom grunted and put his chin on his paws. “It’s a nice thought, I’m sure,” he muttered, closing his rheumy eyes.

Goosekit bounced on his toes as Cloudberry steered him across the clearing to her den. They plunged through the soft green ferns and entered the den beneath the broad expanse of rock.

Cloudberry sat down and curled her tail over her paws. “You can talk now,” she puffed.

“What’s going on?” Goosekit squeaked. “That orange she-cat was beside Nettlebreeze all the time! Why couldn’t he see her?”

“Because she’s dead,” Cloudberry replied, fixing her yellow gaze on Goosekit. “She died many seasons ago, before I came to ThunderClan.” She shifted her bony haunches on the dusty ground. “The striped brown tom who told you where Swiftpaw was? I think that was Beetail. He was Oakstar’s deputy when I arrived. He was a great warrior, wise and kind.”

“He… was?” Goosekit echoed. “You mean he’s dead too?”

Cloudberry nodded. “As are the other cats you described, the black-and-white apprentice and the brown elder. I don’t know who they are. They must have lived in ThunderClan a long time ago. Only you can see them, no one else.”

“That’s not fair!” Goosekit whimpered. “Why can I see all the dead cats?”

“I don’t know,” Cloudberry admitted. “StarClan didn’t tell me.” She rolled a piece of moss under her paw until it crumbled. “You have a great gift, Goosekit,” she mewed softly, “but it is not one that all the cats will appreciate. You must keep it to yourself. Do you understand?”

Goosekit put his head on one side. “But they might like to know that their ancestors are here in the camp!”

There was a flash of temper in Cloudberry’s eyes. “It doesn’t work like that!” she spat. “Warriors are raised to be suspicious of anything that doesn’t come from the warrior code—and preferably from inside their own boundaries!”

Goosekit suddenly remembered what his mother had told him about Cloudberry, how she came from RiverClan after the ThunderClan medicine cat Ravenwing was murdered. Had the ThunderClan cats been unwelcoming at first? Even though they needed a new medicine cat?

Cloudberry had stood up and was pacing anxiously around her cave. “You will have to become my apprentice,” she mewed, jerking his thoughts back to the present.

Goosekit gulped. That wasn’t what he had planned. He was going to be a great warrior like Rooktail!

“Hopefully StarClan will guide me in how to train you to use your gift,” Cloudberry went on. She stopped and stared at him. “What do you think, Goosekit? Would you like to be a medicine cat?”