Mistystar’s Omen

Chapter 6

“He’s not stealing prey!” Mistystar yowled, pounding past the scent markers and skidding to a halt beside her startled Clanmate.

“I’m sorry,” Pebblefoot puffed. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Antpelt’s hackles rose. “Oh, I think you knew exactly where you were going,” he sneered. “Onto territory with better prey than yours!” His eyes raked over the RiverClan warriors, and Mistystar winced as she saw their scrawny frames through an outsider’s eyes. It was painfully obvious that the RiverClan cats hadn’t had a proper meal in moons.

Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy, stepped forward. “Mistystar, I heard about Leopardstar’s death, and I am truly sorry. But what are you doing, letting your warriors stray onto our territory? Did you forget to replace your border markers?”

Her tone was gentle, but Mistystar heard reproach beneath it. What kind of leader allowed her own patrol to cross a boundary? “I’m sorry, Ashfoot,” she meowed, struggling to keep her fur flat. “It was a genuine mistake. Pebblefoot just got carried away chasing that squirrel.”

“Well, it’s ours now,” Antpelt put in. “So you can remove your mangy pelts from our territory before we make you.” He raised one front paw and let his claws slide out. Pebblefoot glared at him, with the fur rising along his spine.

“Antpelt, enough!” ordered Ashfoot. “Mistystar, take your cats home. I suggest you renew the border markers to remind your warriors to hunt inside their own territory in future.”

Feeling her pelt burn with shame, Mistystar dipped her head. “Yes, Ashfoot. May StarClan light your path.”

“And yours,” Ashfoot mewed briefly before summoning her warriors with a sweep of her tail. “Antpelt, put your claws away. Come on, back to camp.”

The WindClan cats raced away over the turf, their bellies low enough to brush the grass. Mistystar led her Clanmates back to the border and didn’t stop until they were well past the markers—which were plenty strong enough. Pebblefoot was still bristling.

“Antpelt treated us like mangy rats,” he fumed. “And how dare Ashfoot tell you to renew the border markers? You’re a leader! She’s only a deputy!”

Mistystar sighed. “She was just making a point, Pebblefoot. You did cross the boundary, after all. Let’s see if we can catch something that doesn’t run into a different Clan, okay?”

She watched her warriors spread out across the marsh, lifting their paws high to avoid tripping over the tussocks, and flattening their ears as they tried to pick up the scent of prey. We train to catch fish, not mice and voles, she thought. We’re as hopeless as kits on dry land. Oh, StarClan, why are you letting us starve?

Three sunrises later, with the fresh-kill pile still pitifully small, Mistystar spotted the faint outline of a half-moon floating between the clouds. That night the medicine cats from all four Clans would gather at the Moonpool to share tongues with StarClan. Mistystar cast her mind back to previous half-moons, realizing that she could hardly remember one when Mothwing hadn’t sent Willowshine in her place on the excuse that a sick or kit-heavy cat needed her to stay in the Clan. How had Leopardstar not realized that Mothwing was neglecting so many of her responsibilities?

After a day of fruitless hunting in the bushes around the camp, Mistystar settled outside her den and waited for one of the medicine cats to leave. She saw Mothwing emerge from between the rocks, and for a moment Mistystar thought the golden cat might be making one last attempt to prove her right to be RiverClan’s medicine cat. But then Willowshine padded out behind her.

“Thank Jayfeather for the herbs,” Mothwing instructed. “And ask Kestrelflight if Tornear’s cough cleared up with the poultice of bright-eye and lovage.”

Willowshine nodded. “See you later,” she meowed, stretching up to brush her muzzle against Mothwing’s. With an anxious glance at Mistystar, she trotted out of the camp.

Mistystar stood up. Mothwing had vanished back into the shadows behind the rocks, and the clearing was silent apart from the murmurs of sleepy warriors in their nest. Mistystar pushed her way through the ferns and went down to the edge of the lake. She paced along the shore, feeling the stones smooth beneath her paws. Sparkling reflections of stars swirled and danced on the surface of the water—the empty, fishless water that mocked the RiverClan cats and their hungry bellies. Mistystar stared at the silvery patterns, desperately trying to read a message in their shapes. Should they be fishing in a different way? Were the fish about to return? Perhaps the hunger was nearly at an end.

But how would she know if there were any messages to be seen? She wasn’t a medicine cat! Mistystar hissed and sank her claws into the grit between the pebbles. Mothwing had made it impossible for her to lead her Clan with any sort of confidence.

“Oh, Stonefur!” Mistystar whispered. “I can’t do this alone!”

Mistystar tossed and wriggled all night, unable to get comfortable in her nest. The fresh moss seemed full of thorns, and she was convinced there was a lump of gorse caught up in it. As the first rays of the sun slanted through the rowan branches, she jumped up and trotted into the clearing. She just caught sight of Willowshine’s gray striped tail whisking into the medicine cats’ den. Mistystar followed and stood in the entrance. The two medicine cats blinked at her from the shadows.

“Willowshine, from now on you will be RiverClan’s sole medicine cat,” she announced. Her heart pounded, and she dug her claws into the earth to stop her legs from shaking. “Mothwing will no longer live with you in this den.”

“That’s not fair!” cried Willowshine. “I still have so much to learn!”

“StarClan will help you,” Mistystar mewed. She looked at Mothwing, who was staring at her in dismay. “I’ve had enough time to think about this. Mothwing, you have served RiverClan for many seasons, and we are grateful. As an elder, you will be well cared for. No cat needs to know about… anything.”

Mothwing stepped forward. “Mistystar, I know you want to punish me—”

“This is not about punishment!” Mistystar interrupted. “This is about doing what is right for the Clan!”

Mothwing twitched one ear. “Don’t you think the Clan has suffered enough change recently, with the loss of Leopardstar? Let them come to terms with that before you make them accept something else. You are not the only cat who has their best interests at heart, Mistystar. I’ll announce my retirement at the next Gathering, but not before.” Her blue eyes flashed briefly with anger.

Mistystar gritted her teeth. She must see that I have no choice in this! She cannot be a medicine cat if she doesn’t believe in StarClan! “Very well,” she hissed. “You may stay here for the rest of this moon.”

She started to back away, but stopped as Mothwing moved toward her. Placing her muzzle close to Mistystar’s ear, she murmured, “I am so sorry.”

So am I, thought Mistystar. You were my closest friend. But there was nothing to say, so she just shook her head and walked quickly away from the rocks, feeling her heart break with every step.

“Mistystar! Watch this!” It was Podkit, Duskfur’s sturdy son. He had sunk his claws into a twig and was dragging it toward the nursery. “I caught this giant fish and I’m going to feed the whole Clan!” he squeaked proudly.

Mistystar purred. “Great catch, Podkit. Make sure it doesn’t eat you first!”

“It won’t. I killed it with one paw!”

Duskfur appeared at the entrance to the nursery. “Podkit! I hope you aren’t bothering Mistystar!”

“He’s not,” Mistystar assured her. “If he can catch a fish that size, we might have to make him a warrior already!”

“Really?” gasped Podkit, his eyes huge.

“Of course not,” snapped his sister, Curlkit, who was wriggling out past their mother. “You’re such a minnow-brain!”

“Don’t be rude to your brother,” Duskfur chided. “If you can’t play nicely, one of you will have to go back to the nest.”

“She started it,” Podkit muttered, slicing the bark of the twig with his tiny claws.

Duskfur rolled her eyes. “Tell me it gets better,” she begged Mistystar. “Some days I feel I do nothing but scold them from dawn until dusk!”

“It does get easier,” Mistystar promised, though inside she felt a stab of agony that her time with four playful kits had passed so quickly.

Duskfur shuffled her paws as if she realized she had said something clumsy. “We’re all so pleased that you’re our leader,” she mewed earnestly. “Not that I didn’t like Leopardstar, of course, but every cat thinks you’re the best choice for RiverClan.”

Even though we’re still hungry? Mistystar wondered. What will they say when we lose one of our medicine cats at the next full-moon?

“There was one thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Duskfur went on. “I found Curlkit up to her belly in mud yesterday by the stream, and I wondered if we could put up some sort of barrier to keep kits away from the edge of the water. I know it’s inside the boundary of the camp, but I’d hate for there to be an accident with a very small kit.”

Mistystar nodded. “That’s a good point. The recent rain has made that bank very slippery, and I’ve nearly lost my footing there myself. I’ll ask Grasspelt if he can sort something out. He can get the apprentices to help.”

“He’ll be lucky,” grumbled Pouncetail, getting up from outside the elders’ den. “Our bedding was supposed to be changed today, but there’s been no sign of any apprentices.”

Pebblefoot looked up from the shrew that he was chewing unenthusiastically. “Really? I definitely told Rushpaw and Hollowpaw that they had to do it before we did battle practice after sunhigh.”

“Well, you’d better check their hearing,” grunted Pouncetail.

Pebblefoot pushed the remains of the shrew away from him and stood up. “If you haven’t seen them, where are they?” he pondered, looking troubled.

“They could be collecting fresh bedding first,” Mistystar suggested, not wanting the apprentices to get into trouble unnecessarily.

Robinwing crossed the clearing and dropped a bundle of moss on the ground outside the warriors’ den. “I didn’t see them when I was gathering this,” he remarked.

Troutpaw and Mossypaw padded into the camp, dragging a wet, dark-furred creature between them.

“Is that a rat?” squeaked Curlkit. “Gross! There’s no way I’m eating that!”

Duskfur flicked her daughter’s ear with her tail. “Then you’ll have to go hungry,” she snapped. “This isn’t the time to start being fussy.”

Mistystar went to greet the apprentices and their mentors, Graymist and Minnowtail. “Have you seen Hollowpaw and Rushpaw? They were supposed to be clearing out the elders’ den, but no cat has seen them.”

Graymist frowned. “They weren’t on the marshes. Did you see what Troutpaw and Mossypaw caught? That should feed us for a while!”

Troutpaw looked proudly over the spine of the bedraggled corpse. “It took ages to drag it back!” she declared. “My teeth ache now!”

Privately Mistystar shared Curlkit’s feelings about tucking into a rat—that was ShadowClan food, not RiverClan. But she nodded and mewed. “Well done! Now, where else might Hollowpaw and Rushpaw be?”

Mossypaw shrugged. “I don’t know. They were muttering about something last night when I was trying to go to sleep, but I didn’t hear what they were saying.”

Mistystar felt the ground dip beneath her paws. Was she losing control of her entire Clan? No fish, prey scarce on land, a medicine cat who didn’t believe in StarClan, and now half the apprentices gone missing?

Just then, the brambles behind the medicine cats’ den rustled, and Rushpaw and Hollowpaw emerged, looking triumphant and somewhat ruffled. They were each carrying a tuft of moss.

“Where have you been?” demanded Pebblefoot. “The elders’ den should have been cleared out ages ago!”

Hollowpaw dropped his mouthful of moss. “We were collecting fresh bedding!” he protested.

Pouncetail prodded the dusty moss with his paw. “From where? Some other cat’s manky nest?”

“You can use what I’ve collected,” Robinwing meowed. He narrowed his eyes at the apprentices. “I don’t know where you found that, but stick to our usual supplies in future, okay? There’s no point in refilling a den with moss that is going to be uncomfortable, especially for the elders.”

“Whatever,” Rushpaw muttered. “We were just trying to help.”

Mistystar studied the apprentices closely. From the state of their rumpled fur, they looked as if they had traveled a long way in search of bedding for the elders. Exceptional commitment, or had they been looking for something else as well? She felt a flash of fear that they might have been trying to fish on their own. With the lake this full, that was strictly forbidden for younger cats. She’d have to warn Pebblefoot and Reedwhisker to keep an eye on them during future patrols.

The apprentices clawed out Pouncetail’s and Dapplenose’s old bedding and replaced it with Robinwing’s fresh supply. Then they joined their Clanmates at the fresh-kill pile, as the cats divided up the prey. Mistystar noticed that Hollowpaw and Rushpaw only shared a tiny minnow between them. Were they feeling guilty for not pulling their weight properly that morning? She sighed. Whatever they had been up to, she didn’t want any of her Clanmates punishing themselves with further hunger.

She looked at the rocks that guarded the medicine cats’ den. Willowshine and Mothwing seemed to be avoiding Mistystar as much as they could. Was Willowshine even watching out for omens? Or was StarClan ignoring them after all?