Midnight

Chapter 8

“Snakerocks is the best place in the forest to find chervil,” Cinderpelt explained over her shoulder as she limped along the fern-shaded path. “But we can’t go there just now, thanks to that wretched badger.”

“It’s still there, then?” Leafpaw asked. She and the medicine cat were on an herb-gathering expedition. The sun shone brilliantly from a sky that was clear again, but the rain had revived the forest plants, and Leafpaw was enjoying the delicious coolness on her paws as she followed her mentor along the narrow track.

“So the dawn patrol said,” Cinderpelt replied. “Keep your eyes open for—Ah!”

She swerved into the ferns and up a sandy slope, where several clumps of a strongly scented herb were growing; the flowers were gone but Leafpaw recognized the large, spreading leaves, and as she drew closer she smelled the sweetish scent of chervil.

“Tell me what we use it for,” Cinderpelt prompted, beginning to gnaw one of the stems at its base.

Leafpaw narrowed her eyes and tried to remember. “The juice of the leaves for infected wounds,” she mewed. “And if you chew the root it’s good for bellyache.”

“Well done,” Cinderpelt purred. “Now you can dig up a few roots—not too many, though, or there’ll be no more in seasons to come.”

She went on biting the stems while Leafpaw obediently began to scrape at the ground to uncover the roots. The chervil scent was all around them, making her feel light-headed, but after a few moments she began to scent something else—something that reminded her of the acrid tang of the Thunderpath, though it was not quite the same.

She glanced up and spotted a thin thread of smoke rising from a clump of dead bracken a little way down the slope.

“Cinderpelt, look,” she mewed uneasily, pointing with her tail.

The medicine cat looked around and froze, her neck fur bristling and her blue eyes blazing. “Great StarClan, no!” She gasped. Awkwardly, because of her injured leg, she began scrambling down toward the burning bracken.

Leafpaw leaped after her and passed the medicine cat in a couple of bounds. As she drew closer to the clump of bracken, a searing light flashed, dazzling her eyes. Blinking, she made out something shiny and clear sticking out of the ground, some spiky scrap of Twoleg rubbish. The sun was falling straight onto it and the bracken behind was slowly blackening and sending the wisp of smoke into the sky.

“Fire!” Cinderpelt yowled, coming up behind her. “Quick!”

Suddenly the bracken burst into flame. Leafpaw sprang back from the wave of heat. Turning to flee, she saw that Cinderpelt stood still, gazing into the scarlet and orange blaze that leaped hungrily at the brittle stalks.

Was she frozen in panic? Leafpaw wondered. Sandstorm had told her about the terrible fire that once swept through the ThunderClan camp. Cinderpelt had survived, but several cats had not, and fire must be especially frightening to the medicine cat when her injured leg made it hard for her to run away.

Then Leafpaw saw that Cinderpelt’s eyes were not wide with fear, but something else. Her gaze was fixed and remote, and Leafpaw realized with a shiver from her ears to her tail tip that her mentor was receiving a message from StarClan.

As quickly as it had blazed up, the fire began to die, and Leafpaw let out a sigh of relief. The flames sank into bright embers and began to wink out, the fronds of bracken disintegrating into flecks of ash. Cinderpelt took a step backward.

She was even more unsteady than usual; Leafpaw darted forward to press up against her side, supporting her and helping her to sit down.

“Did you see it?” Cinderpelt whispered.

“See what, Cinderpelt?”

“In the flames… a leaping tiger. I saw it clearly, its huge head, the leaping paws, stripes as black as night along its body…” The medicine cat’s voice was hoarse. “An omen from StarClan, fire and tiger together. It must mean something, but what?”

Leafpaw shook her head. “I don’t know,” she confessed, feeling scared and helpless.

Cinderpelt got shakily to her paws, shrugging off Leafpaw’s attempt to help her up. “We must go straight back to camp,” she mewed. “Firestar should hear about this at once.”

The ThunderClan leader was alone in his den under the Highrock when Cinderpelt and Leafpaw returned. Cinderpelt paused outside the curtain of lichen that covered the entrance and called out, “Firestar? I need to talk to you.”

“Come in,” Firestar’s voice replied.

Leafpaw followed her mentor into the den to see her father curled up on the bed of moss by the far wall. His head was raised as if Cinderpelt had roused him from sleep, and when the medicine cat and her apprentice entered he rose and stretched, arching his back so that the muscles rippled under his flame-colored pelt.

“What can I do for you?”

Cinderpelt padded across the den toward him, while Leafpaw sat quietly beside the entrance, wrapping her tail around her paws as she tried to push down her sense of approaching danger. She had never seen Cinderpelt receive a message from their warrior ancestors before, and she was unsettled by the fear she had seen in her mentor’s eyes on the journey back through the damp green forest.

“StarClan have sent me an omen,” the medicine cat began.

She described how the Twoleg rubbish had caught the sun’s rays and set fire to the bracken. “In the flames I saw a leaping tiger. Fire and tiger together, devouring the bracken. Such power, unleashed, could destroy the forest.”

Firestar was crouched in front of her, with his paws tucked in and his green gaze fixed on her face so intently that Leafpaw almost expected her mentor’s gray fur to start smoking like the bracken burning under the hot sunlight. “What do you think it means?”

“I’ve been trying to work it out,” Cinderpelt meowed. “I’m not sure I’m right, but… in the old prophecy, ‘fire will save the clan,’ ‘fire’ meant you, Firestar.”

The ThunderClan leader gave a start of surprise. “You think it refers to me now? Well… perhaps, but what about ‘tiger’? Tigerstar is dead.”

Leafpaw felt uneasiness stir inside her as her father calmly named the fearsome cat who had shed so much blood in his quest for power.

“He is dead—but his son still lives,” Cinderpelt pointed out quietly. She glanced at Leafpaw sitting in the shadows, as if she were uncertain her apprentice should be hearing this. Leafpaw stayed absolutely still, determined to listen to the rest.

“Brambleclaw?” Firestar exclaimed. “Are you saying he’s going to destroy the forest? Come on, Cinderpelt. He’s as loyal as any warrior in the Clan. Look at the way he fought for us in the battle against BloodClan.”

Leafpaw felt a sudden urge to say something in Brambleclaw’s defense, though it was not her place to speak here. She did not know the young warrior particularly well, but some instinct inside her cried out, No! He would never harm his Clan, or the forest.

“Firestar, use your head.” Cinderpelt sounded irritable.

“I haven’t said that Brambleclaw will destroy the forest. But if ‘tiger’ doesn’t mean him, then which cat does it mean?

And something else… if ‘tiger’ is Tigerstar’s son, then maybe ‘fire’ is Firestar’s daughter.”

Leafpaw flinched as if a badger had sunk its teeth into her fur.

“Oh, I don’t mean you.” Cinderpelt turned to her apprentice with amusement gleaming faintly in her blue eyes. “I’ll keep an eye on you, don’t worry.” Glancing back at Firestar, she added, “No, I think it more likely means Squirrelpaw. She has a flame-colored pelt like you, after all.”

Leafpaw’s brief sense of relief was swallowed up in fear and dismay as she realized where the medicine cat’s logic was leading. Her own sister, the cat who was dearer to her than all others—was she prophesied to do something so terrible that her name would be cursed by all the Clans, just as queens told their kits now that if they were naughty the terrible Tigerstar would come and get them?

“My own daughter… she’s headstrong, yes, but not dangerous…” Firestar’s eyes were deeply troubled; Leafpaw saw that he had too much respect for Cinderpelt’s wisdom to argue with her interpretation, though it was bitter as mouse bile to hear. “What do you think I should do?” he asked helplessly.

Cinderpelt shook her head. “That’s your decision, Firestar.

I can only tell you what StarClan have shown me. Fire and tiger together, and danger to the forest. But I’d advise you not to tell the Clan yet, not until I receive another sign. They’ll only panic, and that will make things worse.” Her head swiveled to fix an icy stare on Leafpaw. “Say nothing about this, on your loyalty to StarClan.”

“Not even to Squirrelpaw?” Leafpaw asked nervously.

“Especially not to Squirrelpaw.”

“I must tell Graystripe,” Firestar mewed. “And Sandstorm—StarClan know what Sandstorm will think about this!”

Cinderpelt nodded. “That is wise, I think.”

“And it might be as well to keep the two of them apart.”

Firestar spoke half to himself. Leafpaw could see how he was torn between doing his best for his Clan, and his deep feelings for his daughter and the warrior who had once been his apprentice. “She’s an apprentice, he’s a warrior; it shouldn’t be hard,” Firestar went on. “We’ll make sure they have enough to do, and not in each other’s company. Maybe StarClan will send another omen to tell us when the danger is past?” he suggested, glancing hopefully at Cinderpelt.

“Maybe.” But the medicine cat’s tone was not reassuring.

She rose and flicked her tail for Leafpaw to follow her. “If they do, you’ll be the first to know.”

She dipped her head and backed out of the den. Leafpaw moved to follow her, hesitated, then rushed across to her father and buried her muzzle in his pelt, wanting to be comforted as much as to comfort him. Whatever this omen might mean, she was scared by it. She felt Firestar’s tongue rasp warmly over her ear. Her eyes met his and she saw her own sorrow and fear reflected there.

Then Cinderpelt called “Leafpaw!” from outside, and the moment was over. Leafpaw bowed her head to her leader and left him alone, to wait for further news from StarClan about the destiny of his cats.