Long Shadows

Chapter 13

Lionblaze felt cool grass brushing his belly fur as he crept forward.

The scent of WindClan was in his nostrils. Leaves scraped his pelt and left raindrops on his ears and whiskers, but he was concentrating too hard to flick them away. Every muscle in his body was focused on what he could see in front of him.

Now! Pushing off with his powerful back legs, Lionblaze leaped. The squirrel fled, but it was too late. Lionblaze’s claws sank into its shoulders and he killed it with a swift bite to the throat.

As the squirrel went limp, Lionblaze’s vision blurred. A lake of scarlet, sticky blood spread out across the grass and leaves of the forest floor; he could taste the stench of it. The squirrel became a gray-furred she-cat. Lionblaze found himself looking down at Heatherpaw’s dead body; her blood clogged his paws.

“No… oh, no,” he whispered.

Ever since Jaypaw had asked him to fetch the catmint from WindClan, two sunrises before, Lionblaze had felt guilty. But he couldn’t do it. He was too scared that his dream would come true, and he would end up killing Heatherpaw.

He shuddered, staring at the dreadful vision of the dead cat he had once loved. Yet again, he wished that he could be an ordinary warrior, without the powers that terrified him more and more as they grew stronger.

If only I could tell Jaypaw how I feel… But he couldn’t show weakness to his brother, not when Jaypaw was depending on him to fulfill his part of the prophecy. He only knew that he couldn’t risk going into WindClan territory, especially not through the tunnels. Heatherpaw had betrayed him; Lionblaze desperately wanted to believe her story that it was the kits who had given away the secret of the tunnels, but he couldn’t be sure that was true. Heatherpaw was his enemy now, because he was completely committed to ThunderClan. Why should he trust a cat from another Clan? He would never forgive Heatherpaw, but he still didn’t want her blood on his paws.

As the vision faded, Lionblaze straightened up with his prey in his jaws. Ashfur was approaching through the bracken from the stream that marked the WindClan border, carrying a couple of voles by their tails. Spiderleg followed him with a mouse.

“Well done.” Ashfur nodded at Lionblaze, dropping his prey nearby. “Have you seen Sorreltail? We’ve caught as much as we can manage.”

“Here.” Sorreltail staggered through the undergrowth, dragging a rabbit nearly as big as she was. “Whew!” Dropping her prey, she spat out a clump of fur. “Some other cat can carry that back.”

As they padded back to the stone hollow, Lionblaze’s worries started to creep back into his mind. So far leaf-fall had been mild and prey was running well, but there weren’t enough warriors fit to hunt. When he had left the camp that morning, Brightheart was coughing, and he had spotted Honeyfern heading toward the medicine cats’ den. How long before so many cats are sick that there aren’t enough of us left to take care of them?

The fresh-kill pile was ominously low when Lionblaze dropped his prey on it.

“We’ll go out again right away,” Ashfur announced, “but we should all eat something first, to keep our strength up.”

“I’m fine,” Sorreltail meowed. “One of the sick cats can have mine.”

Ashfur padded up to her. “You will eat. What good will you be to your Clan if you get sick too?”

Sorreltail stared back at him rebelliously for a heartbeat, then dropped her gaze. “Okay. You’re right.” But Lionblaze noticed that she chose the smallest mouse from the pile.

As he gulped down a vole, he spotted Jaypaw emerging from the warriors’ den. Swallowing the last mouthful, he bounded across to him.

“How’s Brightheart?” he asked. “I heard her coughing this morning. And Honeyfern was on her way to your den.”

“Like you care!” Jaypaw snapped at him.

“I do!” Guilt and indignation battled inside Lionblaze.

That’s not why I won’t go to WindClan!

“They both have greencough,” Jaypaw mewed curtly.

“Cloudtail, too. I’ve told them not to leave their nests. Now will you go and fetch the catmint?”

“I can’t.” Lionblaze flinched from the fury in Jaypaw’s eyes.

He wished that he could explain to Jaypaw about his dreams; then he would understand why it was impossible for him to go to WindClan. “Why can’t you send another cat instead?” he asked.

“You know why!” Jaypaw spat, his fur bristling up. “You know what it’s like in the tunnels.”

“So does Hollyleaf,” Lionblaze argued. “She could go—”

“Hollyleaf!” Jaypaw interrupted. “You know what she’s like about the warrior code. Do you think she’d agree to trespass on another Clan’s territory and steal their herbs? She’d claw our ears off if we even mentioned it. No, it has to be you.

Besides, you’re the best fighter we’ve got, and if you get caught you’ll need your powers to escape.”

“Then why can’t Leafpool ask Barkface for some catmint?”

“Stupid furball!” Jaypaw hissed. “Which cats did we just fight? Barkface might give Leafpool catmint, but Onestar would have to know, and if he found out ThunderClan is weak, he’d attack again before you could say ‘mouse.’” Lashing his tail, he added, “It’s useless talking to you. I never thought my own brother would stand by and let his Clan die.” Spinning around, he stalked toward his den.

Lionblaze watched him go, then padded sadly back to the patrol by the fresh-kill pile. Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight had appeared, and Graystripe bounded up to choose a piece of fresh-kill and head for the medicine cats’ den.

“Take some for yourself as well,” Squirrelflight called after him, but Graystripe gave no sign that he’d heard her.

“Okay, Ashfur,” Brambleclaw meowed, “when you take your patrol out again, go along the ShadowClan border. You can combine the border patrol with some hunting. But when you get back, that’s it for today. You need to rest.”

“Take your own advice, then.” Squirrelflight gave her mate a flick on the shoulder with her tail. “You need to rest, too.”

“I can’t.” Lionblaze’s heart sank when he saw how bright

Brambleclaw’s eyes were, and heard the rasp in his voice. “I need to fix up more patrols.”

Sorreltail leaned in to Lionblaze and murmured in his ear, “If your father gets ill…”

Lionblaze nodded, but didn’t reply. There was no need.

With Firestar sick, ThunderClan depended on their deputy to protect them.

Oh, StarClan, Lionblaze thought, why are you letting this happen?

Gray clouds covered the sky, but the air was still mild; wind rustled through the trees above the hollow, but down below the cats were sheltered. Lionblaze had just returned from a hunting patrol with Brambleclaw, Hollyleaf, and Cinderheart.

Brackenfur and Sorreltail were sprawled near the fresh-kill pile, sharing tongues, while Sandstorm crouched beside them, eating a thrush.

As Lionblaze and the others dropped their prey on the pile, Leafpool and Jaypaw appeared to choose fresh-kill for themselves.

“How is Millie?” Sandstorm asked, looking up from her thrush.

“If she doesn’t get some catmint soon, she’ll die,” Leafpool meowed flatly.

Jaypaw shot a furious glare at Lionblaze as he snatched a mouse from the pile; Lionblaze felt it like a claw raking across his pelt. Stop blaming me! I can’t go to WindClan!

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the flicker of a flame-colored pelt up on the Highledge. Looking up, he saw that Firestar had appeared. Every hair on his pelt tingled with shock. What was the Clan leader doing out of his nest? He looked unsteady on his paws, and when he opened his jaws to speak all that came out was a cough.

“Firestar!” Sandstorm leaped to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Go back to your nest right now!” Leafpool sprang up and raced for the rocks, closely followed by Sandstorm.

Firestar stretched out a paw to halt them. “Don’t come any closer,” he rasped. “The sickness spreads too easily. We have to get the sick cats out of the camp to keep the others healthy.”

“But we can’t do that,” Leafpool objected, halting at the foot of the tumbled rocks. “There’s nowhere for them to go.”

“Yes, there is,” Firestar told her, his too-bright eyes shining with triumph. “The old Twoleg nest has walls and a roof to shelter us, and there’s a stream nearby where we can drink.”

“But I can’t be in two places at once,” Leafpool pointed out; she sounded anguished, as if she hated to refuse the hope that Firestar offered.

“You won’t need to be,” Firestar meowed. “I shall look after the sick cats. You can tell me which herbs to use, and keep me supplied without coming too close.”

Sandstorm let out a gusty sigh, fluttering her whiskers.

“This is ridiculous! You’re putting yourself in danger. You need rest just as much as the other sick cats.”

Firestar looked down at her, love glowing from his green eyes. “I have lives to lose; my Clanmates do not. I have to do this, for their sake.”

Murmurs of surprise came from the cats gathered around the fresh-kill pile. Brambleclaw looked up at his leader, then slowly nodded, as if he was making a promise.

“It might work,” Brackenfur remarked.

“I think it’s worth a try,” Cinderheart agreed. “If we don’t do something, every cat will get sick.”

The more Lionblaze thought about Firestar’s suggestion, the more sense he could see in it. The sick cats would have a safe, dry place to stay, and those who were left could look after them better. Leafpool and Jaypaw would have more chance of keeping well. And maybe Jaypaw’s catmint plants at the Twoleg nest would have grown enough to provide some healing leaves.

“There aren’t enough yet,” Jaypaw growled as if Lionblaze had spoken aloud. “We need more! Half the Clan is sick.”

Lionblaze felt as if his littermate’s glare was scorching his pelt. Turning away, he padded over to Hollyleaf.

“Isn’t Firestar great?” she meowed. “I’m so proud he’s our kin. I wonder if I’d have the courage to do what he’s doing.”

Lionblaze touched his nose to her shoulder. “I’m sure you would.” And what about my courage? he asked himself. I should be brave enough to fetch the catmint. But I can’t do it, I just can’t!

On the Highledge, Firestar straightened up and lifted his head. “Let all cats—” His attempt to raise his voice ended in a bout of coughing.

Brambleclaw bounded up to the Highledge and spoke rapidly to his leader. Lionblaze couldn’t hear what they said, and a moment later Firestar staggered back into his den. Brambleclaw looked down at the clearing.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting,” he yowled.

Foxpaw and Icepaw appeared from the elders’ den, each with a bundle of soiled bedding. Mousefur followed them and stalked across to where Sandstorm and Leafpool stood at the foot of the tumbled rocks.

Ferncloud and Squirrelflight emerged from the warriors’ den and padded over to the fresh-kill pile. Berrynose and Graystripe pushed their way out after them, and stayed sitting just outside the den.

Lionblaze’s heart sank to see how few cats answered the summons. So many of the Clan were sick, and the rest of them must be out on patrol.

Brambleclaw began by explaining to the cats who hadn’t heard Firestar’s plan. “We’ll need to collect a lot of moss and bracken—and dried leaves and feathers, anything to keep the sick cats comfortable and warm,” he continued. “Lionblaze and Hollyleaf, you can do that, and take the apprentices with you.”

Lionblaze flicked his tail in acknowledgement of his father’s order.

“Brackenfur, you’re good at mending den walls,” Brambleclaw went on. “Find some warriors to help you, and block the holes in the Twoleg nest so that there aren’t any drafts.”

“Sure, Brambleclaw,” the ginger warrior replied.

“And there’ll need to be a new fresh-kill pile. Sandstorm, you’re best at hunting; can I put you in charge of that?”

Sandstorm gave him a tense nod, her green eyes narrowed as if she was already planning her hunt.

“Leafpool, you’ll need to transport herbs for Firestar to use.

Get another warrior to help you if you have to collect more.”

“I’ll do that,” Leafpool replied. “And every cat should keep a lookout for catmint. It’s just possible there are a few clumps we’ve overlooked.”

Lionblaze could tell that the medicine cat didn’t believe what she was saying, but he knew that they couldn’t ignore even the smallest chance of discovering more of the precious herb. And if we did find some, I wouldn’t feel so guilty anymore.

“Right,” Brambleclaw began. “Then—”

“What about me?” Squirrelflight interrupted, her green eyes blazing a challenge. “You don’t expect me to sit around in camp doing nothing?”

“You’re not fit to leave yet,” Leafpool retorted instantly.

“You’ll leave when our medicine cat says you can,” Brambleclaw told his mate. “But you won’t be doing nothing. As the cats out on patrol come back, you can explain to them what’s happening, and give them jobs to do.”

Squirrelflight hesitated, as if she was going to argue, then gave a reluctant nod, muttering something under her breath as she scraped her claws in the earth.

“Okay, the meeting’s over,” Brambleclaw meowed crisply.

“Let’s get moving.”

Lionblaze beckoned the apprentices with a wave of his tail and led the way to the thorn tunnel with Hollyleaf padding at his shoulder. His paws tingled with urgency; even the apprentices didn’t complain at the task.

“It feels weird.” Hollyleaf was looking worried as they headed deeper into the forest. “The Clan has never been split up like this before.”

“It’s the best way to save lives,” Lionblaze answered.

“There’s nothing about this in the warrior code. Except…

we all swear to defend our Clan, so I guess this is one way of doing it.” Her anxious look faded.

Lionblaze led the other cats farther from camp, into a clearing where the moss lay deep and undisturbed.

“Thank StarClan it hasn’t rained lately,” Foxpaw muttered as he tugged a huge swath of moss away from a tree root and started to bundle it up.

“Be careful to squeeze all the water out,” Hollyleaf instructed him. “And dig as deep as you can to find the driest bits.”

“Hey, look what I’ve found!” Icepaw came bounding across the clearing with a bunch of gray-and-white feathers in her jaws. “There’s a whole lot more over there,” she added. “A fox must have killed a pigeon.”

“That’s good,” Lionblaze meowed. “They’ll be soft to lie on. Collect as many as you can.”

When they had as much bedding as they could carry, he and the other cats headed for the Twoleg den. Lionblaze pricked his ears in surprise as they approached. The place that had always been eerily quiet was now swarming with activity like a disturbed ants’ nest.

Poppyfrost bounded past him with a bundle of sticks in her jaws, followed by Birchfall, who was dragging a long tendril of bramble. When Lionblaze reached the entrance to the den, he saw Cinderheart stuffing more bramble into a gap between the stones.

“Great, Poppyfrost,” she meowed as the young tortoiseshell dropped the sticks at her paws. “That’s just what we need.”

“I’ll fetch some more.” Poppyfrost spun around and whisked past Lionblaze, back into the forest.

“Let’s have that moss over here!” Sorreltail called. She was helping Ashfur drag branches into place, separating the floor of the den into separate nests. “Put it there,” she continued, waving her tail toward a wide space at the back of the den, already surrounded by thorns woven together. “That’s going to be the nursery.”

Foxpaw and Icepaw followed Lionblaze and his sister and dropped their bundles in the place Sorreltail had shown them. Both the apprentices stared around uneasily, as if they expected something to leap out at them from the shadows in the corners of the nest. Lionblaze could understand how they felt. The straight lines and hard angles of the Twoleg nest were uncomfortably strange; the floor was hard and cold under his paws and it didn’t feel right to have a solid roof overhead, without gaps for sunlight or moonlight to shine through. That might be why Poppyfrost dashed off so quickly, he thought. Will the sick cats really be able to settle down here?

“Well, why are you standing there?” Sorreltail asked. “Go and fetch us some more moss.” She gave Lionblaze an affectionate prod with her muzzle, softening her sharp tone. “Make sure it’s good and dry, and we’ll need all you can find.”

When Lionblaze and the others returned the second time, he spotted Sandstorm approaching at the head of a hunting patrol. Berrynose and Whitewing followed her; all three cats had their jaws stuffed with prey.

Sandstorm headed for a hollow tree trunk a few fox-lengths from the entrance to the Twoleg nest, among thick growths of fern and long grass. She dropped her fresh-kill just inside the opening. “I’m glad I found this,” she commented. “The prey will keep dry here.”

“And we can stay away from the sick cats,” Berrynose added as he dumped his own catch.

“Foxes might come and steal it,” Whitewing mewed, adding her fresh-kill to the growing pile. “Would it help if we scent-marked the opening?”

“Good idea,” Sandstorm replied. “And we’ll set markers around the edges of the old Twoleg garden. If the foxes think a lot of cats are around here, they might stay away.”

They won’t know the cats are too sick to fight, Lionblaze thought as he led his patrol inside the den with their bundles of moss.

By now the Twoleg nest was looking much more welcoming.

Ashfur had finished dividing up the area into nests separated by branches. The first load of bedding was spread neatly in the nursery area. Brackenfur and Cinderheart were sniffing along the walls, pushing twigs and leaves into any cracks they had missed. Leafpool was there, too, checking for drafts in the nursery area.

“Over here!” she called to Brackenfur. “The wind’s cutting through me like a claw.”

Brackenfur bounded over with a bundle of dry leaves and shoved them into the gap the medicine cat had pointed out.

“Much better.” Leafpool waved her tail approvingly.

Sorreltail showed Lionblaze and the others where to put their moss. “That’s great!” she meowed, flexing her claws into the fresh bedding. “But we still need more.”

“I know.” Lionblaze twitched his whiskers. “We’re on our way.”

Leaving the den, he saw Jaypaw and Mousewhisker approaching from the direction of the camp with bundles of herbs in their jaws. They laid them on a flat stone near the entrance to the den, and Jaypaw separated them neatly into piles.

“Pity there’s no catmint,” he commented to Mousewhisker, loudly enough for Lionblaze to hear. “The sick cats would stand a much better chance if we had some.”

“What about the plants growing here?” Mousewhisker asked.

“I’ve checked,” Jaypaw replied, swinging his head around to glare at Lionblaze from sightless blue eyes. “They’re starting to grow again, but only a tiny bit.”

Guilt stabbed Lionblaze again, sharp as thorns, but he said nothing. He couldn’t explain to Jaypaw why he’d refused to go through the tunnels into WindClan territory. But what if cats die because of your dreams?

Unable to answer the question, Lionblaze raced off into the forest as if a horde of badgers were hard on his paws. But as he headed for the moss place, he knew that he would never outrun his guilt.

The sun was going down, filling the forest with red light barred with dark shadows, as Lionblaze and his patrol returned to the old Twoleg nest once more. He had lost count of how many loads of moss he and his Clanmates had gathered and brought to the nest.

Crossing the hard stone path, Lionblaze saw Leafpool standing in the entrance to the nest with Brambleclaw beside her. They broke off their conversation when they spotted the patrol.

“Well done,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Take that inside, and then you can stop. Everything’s ready.”

Lionblaze led his Clanmates up to the nest, noticing that there was now a well-stocked fresh-kill pile inside the hollow tree. Inside, the nest felt warm and safe, with cozy dens big enough for two or three cats to sleep, and a bigger area for the nursery, lined with the softest moss and feathers. Ferncloud was patting the clumps into place.

Sorreltail waved Lionblaze over to the last space, and spread out the moss and bracken he and the others were carrying.

“All done,” she declared, touching her nose to his. “Thanks, all of you.”

Looking around, Lionblaze saw that most of the healthy cats had gathered in the nest. Brackenfur and Cinderheart both had pelts snagged by thorns and brambles, but their eyes glowed with satisfaction. Poppyfrost was busily licking one of her pads, as if she had a thorn in it. Graystripe was flexing his claws in the moss; Lionblaze guessed he was impatient to get back to Millie. Berrynose had curled up for a snooze in one of the new nests; Hazeltail gave him a sharp prod with one paw.

“Get up, stupid furball!” she hissed. “These aren’t for us.”

“I’ve been working all day,” Berrynose grumbled, rising to his paws and giving his shoulder fur a quick lick to hide his embarrassment.

Leafpool appeared in the entrance, with Brambleclaw just behind her. “Everything’s ready,” she mewed. “We can go back to camp now. But no cat must go inside until our sick Clanmates come out. From now on, we have to stay away from them.”

“What?” Graystripe’s claws worked harder in the moss.

“You mean we can’t help them?”

“Some of them are too weak to make the journey without us,” Brackenfur objected.

“The stronger ones will help the weaker,” Leafpool told him in a tone that warned every cat not to argue. “You know how fast the sickness spreads. We need to stay strong and healthy to provide for ourselves and the ones who are sick.”

“She’s right,” Brambleclaw added from where he stood at the medicine cat’s shoulder. “That’s why we’re doing this, remember?”

There were no more objections, but Lionblaze’s pelt prickled at the thought of sick Clanmates struggling along without help, and from the glances they exchanged he could see that most of the other cats felt the same.

Leafpool led the way back to the camp and vanished into the tunnel through the thorns. Brambleclaw waved his tail to set the rest of the Clan into position on either side, leaving a wide space between to let the sick cats through.

Lionblaze’s belly clenched in pity as they began to emerge: Firestar led the way, his head raised proudly even though he was shaken by a bout of coughing as he padded past. Cloudtail supported Thornclaw, while Dustpelt leaned on Brightheart’s shoulder. Hollow coughs came from the brown tabby; Lionblaze could see every one of his ribs, while his pelt was thin and dull. Ferncloud let out a piteous mew, instinctively starting forward; Birchfall raised his tail to bar her way.

Dustpelt turned his head, blinking eyes glazed with fever.

“Keep back,” he meowed hoarsely. “I’ll be fine.”

Ferncloud looked away and buried her muzzle in Birchfall’s shoulder fur.

Daisy was the next cat to appear, carrying Rosekit, with Toadkit, Blossomkit, and Bumblekit behind her. The mischievous kits were unusually subdued, their gaze fixed on their paws as they padded quietly along.

“You can’t go with Rosekit,” Brambleclaw declared, stepping out to bar Daisy’s path. “You and the healthy kits have to stay in camp.”

“Nonsense!” Rosekit let out a feeble wail as Daisy set her down gently to confront the Clan deputy. “Who will feed Rosekit if I’m not there?”

“Rosekit can eat fresh-kill now,” Brambleclaw replied. “And

Firestar will make sure she’s cared for. Do you want the other kits to get sick?”

For a couple of heartbeats Daisy stood glaring at him, then dropped her gaze and padded to one side, gathering the healthy kits to her with a sweep of her tail.

“I want to go with Rosekit!” Toadkit mewed fiercely.

“You can’t.” Daisy stooped to touch her remaining kit on the head with her nose. “You can help her best by keeping well and strong.”

Toadkit still looked rebellious, but he didn’t say any more.

Honeyfern, emerging from the barrier, took in the situation at a glance and stood over Rosekit. “I promise I’ll look after her,” she told Daisy, who gave her a grateful nod.

Rosekit batted the air with her paws and went on wailing as her Clanmate carried her toward the Twoleg nest.

More movement in the tunnel signaled Millie’s approach.

The gray she-cat was supported on either side by Leafpool and Jaypaw. Lionblaze caught his breath in horror when he saw her. Her paws barely moved; the medicine cats were all but carrying her. Her pelt clung to her ribs, and her sides heaved as she let out a rasping cough.

“No!” Graystripe yowled from just behind Lionblaze and Hollyleaf. He plunged forward; Lionblaze blocked him, and Hollyleaf sank her teeth into the loose fur on his shoulder.

“Let me go!” Graystripe snarled as he struggled. “She’s dying!

I have to go to her!”

Lionblaze braced himself; it went against everything he had learned to fight a Clanmate, but he knew that he couldn’t allow Graystripe to be near his sick mate.

“Keep back!” Leafpool ordered, raising her tail in warning.

Graystripe ignored her and kept struggling, lashing out a paw to rake his claws down Lionblaze’s shoulder.

“Stop!” Brambleclaw bounded up to help.

“Graystripe.” Firestar’s hoarse voice came from the head of the pitiful line of cats. The Clan leader had halted and turned to face his friend. “I know how you feel. But you must stay away from Millie.” His voice was full of sympathy; Lionblaze knew how deep the friendship was between the two cats.

“Millie needs you to stay strong and healthy.”

Graystripe stopped struggling and took a long breath.

“Firestar, my heart is clawed in pieces.”

“I know. But what you’re doing now doesn’t help. Graystripe, if Millie’s paws are truly set on the path to StarClan, then I’ll send for you to say good-bye. I promise you.”

Graystripe hesitated for a heartbeat, then bowed his head.

“I’ll hold you to that, Firestar,” he choked out.

Lionblaze and Brambleclaw stood back, and Hollyleaf let go her grip on the gray warrior’s shoulder. Graystripe stood still, his head and tail drooping; Lionblaze was close enough to feel the shivers that were running through him.

Leafpool and Jaypaw moved on, with Millie supported between them. Her head hung; she didn’t seem to have heard her mate’s protests. Behind them came Longtail, guiding himself by the tip of Leafpool’s tail. Briarkit dangled limply from his jaws like a piece of fresh-kill.

Lionblaze tensed. Was the tiny kit dead? Then her tail twitched, and she let out an exhausted cough. Seeing she was still alive, Lionblaze relaxed, only to have his relief swallowed up in a wave of guilt. She needs catmint. They all do.

When the sick cats had gone, Brambleclaw led the rest of the Clan back into the stone hollow. Mousefur and Squirrelflight, the only cats remaining, were sitting together near the fresh-kill pile; Mousefur rose and padded to meet them as they returned.

“I should be with them,” she snapped at Brambleclaw. “I could help. I’m an elder; it doesn’t weaken the Clan if I get sick.”

Brambleclaw dipped his head. “That’s an offer worthy of a warrior,” he replied. “But the Clan values every cat, from the newest kit to the most senior elder.” His amber eyes glinted. “I know you already asked Firestar, and he said no. Don’t think you can get around me.”

“Pesky young cat… thinks he knows everything,” Mousefur muttered, turning her back.

Instead of going to their dens, the remains of the Clan huddled together in the center of the clearing, as if they were waiting for something. Lionblaze crouched beside his sister, his fur standing on end. The camp felt strange, as if it wasn’t their home anymore. The stench of sickness still hung around it, and an eerie quiet covered everything.

“I don’t like this,” Hollyleaf whispered. “I wonder how many of the sick cats will ever come back.”

Don’t. Lionblaze dug his claws hard into the ground. “It’s in the paws of StarClan,” he muttered, knowing how hypocritical he was being.

It seemed a long time, though the shadows had crept no more than a mouse-length across the hollow, before Leafpool and Jaypaw returned.

“Good, you’re all here,” Leafpool meowed, padding toward the gathering of cats. “Jaypaw, fetch me those strengthening herbs from our den.” As Jaypaw bounded off, she continued, “Every scrap of bedding has to be taken out of the dens and into the forest, and fresh bedding brought in.”

“What?” Icepaw, who had been grooming herself drowsily, raised her head. “I’ve been dragging moss around all day. Do we really have to get more? I’m worn out!”

“Every cat is worn out,” Spiderleg added. “Can’t it wait until morning?”

“Sure it can, if you want more cats to get sick,” Leafpool retorted. Her tone softened as she added, “Every cat will be helping this time. It won’t take long.”

Jaypaw came back with the herbs, dropping a few leaves in front of every cat. Lionblaze felt his aching limbs fill with warmth as he swallowed them.

“Let’s get going,” he mewed to Hollyleaf. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be done.”

All the warriors headed out of the camp to fetch fresh moss and bracken, while Icepaw, helped by Mousefur and Squirrelflight, cleared the old bedding out of the dens and carried it as far as the barrier to be disposed of outside. Leafpool and Jaypaw checked the dens to make sure not a scrap of it remained behind. By the time it was all gone, and fresh bedding installed, the taint of sickness that had hung about the camp for so long had almost vanished.

“This is better,” Hollyleaf murmured as she settled down inside the warriors’ den beside Lionblaze. “Except it’s strange with so many cats missing. I hope Firestar’s plan works.”

Lionblaze was already sliding into sleep, his eyes closed and his tail wrapped over his nose. He was too exhausted for his worries to keep him awake, but as he slid into darkness his mind filled with a vision of catmint: thick, lush clumps of it, growing among rocks on the edge of the moor, just as Jaypaw had described. He leaped forward to bite off the stems, only to halt, trembling, on the bank of a river.

The stream that marked the border with WindClan had swollen into a rushing scarlet torrent. The air was filled with the stench of blood, and the grasses on the edge of the river where Lionblaze stood were spattered with it.

He took a step back, horrified at the thought of blood sticking to his paws, and stiffened as he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Are you scared, little warrior?” Tigerstar taunted him.

“Where’s this power of yours now?”