Mistystar’s Omen

Chapter 5

Mothwing flinched as if Mistystar had struck her. “I have served my Clan for many seasons,” she argued. “I have guarded the health of every cat as if they were a kit of my own. Leopardstar trusted me.”

“Leopardstar didn’t know the truth!” Mistystar snapped. “Did she?”

Mothwing shook her head. “No,” she admitted. Her eyes clouded with sadness. “What do you want me to do now?”

Mistystar twitched the tip of her tail. “I don’t know. Restock your supplies with Willowshine, and let me figure something out. We don’t want every cat in the Clan learning about this.” She walked away, feeling her stomach churn. Had she really just dismissed her medicine cat? Oh, StarClan, why didn’t you tell me the truth when you had the chance?

Rapid paw steps sounded, and Mallownose appeared at the head of his hunting patrol. He was carrying a tiny minnow in his mouth, which he dropped in the space where the fresh-kill pile should be. Robinwing, Petalfur, and Minnowtail placed similar-sized prey beside the miniscule fish. Minnowtail’s apprentice, Mossypaw, was covered in stinking green weed but had nothing to contribute that could be eaten.

Mistystar stared at the pile in dismay. “Is that it?” she gasped. “That won’t feed Duskfur’s kits, let alone the rest of us!”

“I’m sorry,” meowed Mallownose. “The water may have come back, but the fish haven’t. The lake is empty.”

“Apart from weeds,” Mossypaw put in crossly, trying to pull the slimy fronds off her ears.

“I warned you that rock was slippery,” sighed Minnowtail.

Mistystar felt a wave of panic rise in her chest. “We’ll have to look elsewhere for prey, then. Start hunting away from the lake for different kinds of prey.”

Mossypaw made a face. “Yuck! Who wants to eat fur and whiskers?”

Mallownose flicked her with his tail. “Any cat who doesn’t want to starve,” he growled.

“StarClan must really hate us if they won’t bring the fish back,” Mossypaw muttered.

Mistystar bristled. There is no way StarClan would punish us for letting Mothwing be our medicine cat, is there? No, of course not. She has been our medicine cat since before we came to the lake; why would StarClan turn against us now? And yet if they sent us a sign guiding us to a better source of prey, who would see it?

The bushes at the entrance quivered, and Reedwhisker pushed his way through. “Blackstar says he is sorry to hear that Leopardstar has lost her last life, and looks forward to greeting you at the next Gathering,” he announced to Mistystar. His gaze fell on the puny pile of minnows. “Great StarClan! Did everyone eat already?”

“No,” meowed Mistystar. “We were just discussing finding other places to hunt until the fish return to the lake.”

Reedwhisker nodded. “I can take a patrol into the marshes now if you like. And Mintfur?” He called to the pale gray tom who was washing himself on the far side of the clearing. “Why don’t you take the apprentices upstream to see what you can find in the reeds beyond the border?”

For a moment Mistystar was taken aback by Reedwhisker’s brisk string of commands; then she remembered that he was the deputy now, and it was his duty to organize patrols. “Right, thanks, Reedwhisker,” she mewed. “I’ll come with you, if that’s okay?”

Reedwhisker looked surprised. “Of course it is. Icewing, Pebblefoot, will you join us?” The two warriors had just returned from a border patrol, but they nodded and trotted over. Mistystar fell in behind them as they filed out of the camp. She felt Mothwing watching her from the entrance to the medicine cats’ den, but she didn’t turn around. It was too painful to look into her old friend’s eyes and know that she had been keeping a secret that threatened the whole Clan.

There was a strong wind blowing across the marshes, scented with rain. Mistystar’s fur stood on end as she trekked across the sodden ground, leaping from tussock to tussock of spiny grass. The lake beckoned invitingly, sending waves fluttering over the stony shore. But Mistystar reminded herself that the water was empty, that the end of the drought had not brought an end to RiverClan’s hunger. Oh, StarClan, did Rippletail die in vain?

Suddenly Icewing let out a hiss and stiffened as a vole crept out of a clump of grass. The white cat pounced a fraction too late, and the vole shot away. Icewing stumbled over a muddy rut, and for a moment it looked as if the vole was safe. Then Mistystar realized it was heading toward her, so she leaped forward, blocking the vole’s path with her front paws, and thrust her head down so that it practically ran into her jaws. One sharp, frantic bite and the creature lay dead at her feet.

“Good catch!” called Reedwhisker.

Mistystar looked at Icewing, who had stumbled to a halt beside her, panting. “We did it together,” she meowed. Icewing nodded, too breathless to speak.

Up ahead, Pebblefoot was crouching at the foot of a wind-warped pine tree. “I can see a squirrel,” he yowled over his shoulder.

“Don’t climb up after it!” Mistystar warned. RiverClan cats most definitely did not belong in trees. “Wait until it comes down!”

Pebblefoot scraped his claws impatiently down the trunk. There was a brief gray blur, and the squirrel dropped down from one of the lower branches and set off across the marsh, its fluffy tail bobbing behind it. Pebblefoot tore after it, sending scraps of grass and mud flying up from his hind paws. With a start, Mistystar realized he was running too fast to see where he was.

“Stop, Pebblefoot!” she screeched. “You’re too close to the border!”

Reedwhisker bounded after his Clanmate, but the squirrel leaped the final tussock of marsh grass onto the smooth, cropped surface of WindClan’s territory and took off up the slope. Pebblefoot raced after it, straight into a patrol of shocked-looking WindClan cats who had just appeared around the side of the hill. A brown warrior named Antpelt sprang forward to block his path.

“Trespasser! Prey thief!” he screeched.